Boosting - Chapter 6
Joe was enjoying the motorcycle drive through the open country. It was nice cruising along and allowing the sound of the engine to lull him without having to worry about investigating anything. The only thing to concentrate on being Frank on his scarlet and black bike out in front, while avoiding potholes and other vehicles, which were few and far between.
It felt like they were kids again going off on one of their adolescent adventures. This particular stretch of asphalt with overhanging trees and shrubs especially reminded him of Shore Road, and he half expected to round a bend and come face-to-face with that old house on the cliff that they used to dumbly believe was haunted. Until, of course, they'd later uncovered the truth that the supposed ghost had been, in fact, a gang of nefarious smugglers!
Joe kept catching himself grinning behind his helmet feeling nostalgic. His face was starting to ache.
Half an hour later, which seemed a much shorter time span, Frank was indicating and leading him onto a rougher, dirt track.
Working down through the gears, Joe proceeded to follow on and began negotiating his way around the uneven surface, avoiding scattered and slippery mud patches. Shortly, he could see the cabin up ahead of them with an SUV parked outside; looking exactly as it had done in the Internet pictures. A veritable picture postcard, so unlike that image of that creepy old house that kept appearing in his head.
Of a cedar wood construction, the single-level building had a frontage consisting of a blue door centrally placed between two windows with four steps leading up to the main entrance. At the top of those stairs, and to the left, an extra wooden step led up onto a wrap-around decked porch cum patio area, upon which was a table with four chairs for outside living. A wooden railing ran around the front of the house and disappeared around the side, caging off the patio and creating a viewing area to the other elevation – it was pretty much perfect.
The sight of it seemed to spur the brothers on and they gunned their engines and put on a little more speed, quickly roaring up to the front of the wooden structure and stopping; in Joe's case, into an impressive skid.
Joe pushed his visor up and found that Frank was pointing, having already removed his helmet.
"Look at that!" Frank exclaimed, indicating to the lake that ran alongside the cabin itself, overlooked by the windows to the side of the property, giving an obvious explanation for the need of a viewing platform.
Joe knew there was a river running by that fed into a larger body of water, but he didn't know it was so close to the house – bonus! "Did I pick a cool place, or did I pick a cool place?" he asked, leaning his elbows onto his handlebars.
"You picked a cool place—" said a stranger's voice from the front doorway.
They both turned in their saddles and found a man standing on the front stoop smiling down on them. "Mr Hardy and Mr Hardy, I presume?" he asked.
"Yes, I'm Frank and this here is Joe – take your helmet off, bro!" Frank put his bike into neutral, rocked it back on its stand and disembarked to shake the stranger's hand who was walking down to meet him halfway.
Joe did likewise, unclipping and removing his helmet before joining Frank to take the man's hand. "Mr Penny?"
"Yes, and you're right on time – who's in charge of the keys?"
Joe tipped his head towards his brother. "Big brother's less likely to lose them than me," he admitted with a laugh.
Frank accepted the keys and they watched as the man walked between them and started making his way to his SUV.
"Enjoy your stay. Leave the keys on the inside table when you're done and pull the door shut after you," Mr Penny called over his shoulder before climbing into his vehicle and driving away.
On the journey over, Joe had reached the decision that somersaulting into Frank's head in camouflage gear, with all guns blazing possibly wasn't the best-laid plan he'd ever had. So theorised instead that as they were in a totally different environment, his brother would become more relaxed, which would hopefully loosen his tongue. He had to give him a little time and be patient – not a virtue he admittedly held in spades – so he knew he would have to sit on his usual impulses. Unhitching his saddlebag from his bike, he proceeded to carry it into the house to join his bother in the doorway.
He found that the inside of the cabin was comprised of a comfortable seating area immediately as they entered, with a wood burning fire and a well-stocked kitchenette and dining table. To the left was a raised area, which had two easy chairs set upon it in front of a patio door leading out onto the viewing area overlooking the lake. In front of the window stood a tall tripod housing a large telescope that was aimed across the water.
Splintering off from this main area were three comfortable double bedrooms, two of which had their own bathrooms – they decided immediately to commandeer those as their own and lugged their saddlebags inside and dumped them on the beds. Unsurprisingly to Joe, his brother immediately set about unpacking and getting himself in order.
Joe left him to it and headed to the kitchen area to start mooching. "Want some chow?" he called out, inspecting the label on a tin. It hadn't been that long since he'd had the burger at the diner, but it was in the back of his mind that Frank hadn't eaten anything. Either way, Joe was always in the mood for a feed, so it made little difference to him.
Frank came out of his bedroom and nodded in agreement and between them, they cooked a simple meal, which they took out onto the viewing area with the intention of eating while looking over the lake. Once they'd slid open the patio doors, however, they'd found more steps leading down to the lakefront, so they sat there with their plates balanced precariously on their knees and made small talk.
"Hey, Frank," Joe said and smirked. "Do you remember when Chet decided to try fly-tying as a hobby?"
Frank chortled. "Aw man, yeah! I think he caught himself more than he caught any fish." Giving up on trying to balance his plate, Frank set it down on the ground instead and began skewering each piece of food by gripping the very end of the fork. He pushed his leg out in front of him to straighten it fully and flex his foot.
"Not one of 'em even passably resembled a fly – at least, no insect I've ever seen," Joe agreed. "He made this one, and I swear to God, it was fluff from his belly-button with a hook tied on!"
Frank burst into laughter. "Was that the one he managed to spear into his palm and we had to take him over to the ER to get it removed?"
"Yeah, I think it was. He screamed like a girl." Joe raised himself from the steps and took their plates back inside to dump them in the basin, noting that Frank had only eaten half of his.
"Let's go and have a look around." Frank suggested, silhouetted in the doorway. "Before it gets dark."
Joe leaned his hand against the counter, feeling beat. He knew he should be kicking back and taking it easy, but he decided to throw caution to the wind and let his bother have his way. However, to his surprise and concern, Frank's choice of exploration was a trudge up quite a steep embankment. "Frank, we shouldn't – your knee, dude!" Joe warned.
"Don't worry, Bro, if I feel any worrying pains, I'll stop." Frank assured him. "And besides," he reached inside his jacket, pulled forth his walking stick and snapped each section into place, "I have my trusty steed!" He waved it in the air and grinned.
Joe was doubtful, but his fears were proven unfounded because Frank not only used his stick, he was so practiced with it that he was able to control the pressure he was putting on his recovering leg the entire way up. The older Hardy brother even rested at the halfway point without Joe having to suggest it. And truth be known, Joe was relieved to take that break himself because the side where he had taken the bullet was starting to complain a little, not that he mentioned that to his brother.
It took them quite a while, but they did eventually reach the top and found they were overlooking the huge expanse of water below them.
Once they'd caught their breaths, Frank scanned around and found a fair sized stone. He tested the weight in his hand for a couple of bounces and suddenly leaned back and hurled it as high and as far as his could and they both stood side-by-side and watched it sail down and hit the water with a gentle plop, sending up a tall spray into the air. Frank glanced at his brother. "Do you think—?" he began, and then stopped to pick up a stick and flung that instead.
After patiently waiting for some long seconds, Joe implored, "Go on, Dude."
Frank rubbed his nose. "Can't remember what I was goin' to say. Doesn't matter."
Joe sat down on a large rock and began to tie a loose bootlace. When he looked up again, he found his brother was standing right on the edge, staring down into the water, his face solemn, his mouth drawn-down. It was uncomfortable viewing him positioned that close to such a sheer drop, but Joe avoided the impulse to pull him back.
"Let's go down before it gets completely dark," Joe said and stood up. "I think I'm getting a blister and I don't think it would be a good idea you tryin' to manoeuvre your way down in poor light and risk trippin'." He didn't wait for his brother to agree, simply started down and was reassured to hear his brother mechanically following on behind.
They finally emerged out from the trees in front of the cabin again after travelling down in companiable silence the entire way. "I challenge you to a skimming competition!" Joe blurted out as soon as they were next to the water again. It was literally the only thing he could think of to suggest. "Lame, Joe, so very lame!"
"You're on!" Frank surprisingly agreed. He folded up his walking stick and again imprisoned it inside his jacket.
Joe picked up the flattest stone his could immediately find and threw it underarm. It shot out of his fingers like a bullet and skimmed across the water, bouncing a few times and sinking out of sight. "Only two," he muttered, unimpressed.
Frank followed up with the same type of move, but his style was closer to ground level. Not that it made any difference as he also scored only two. "We're out of practice!" he muttered with a look of disgust at the duo of ripples he'd created.
Nodding sagely, Joe agreed. "We so are. We used to be great at this!"
They continued taking it in turns, but after about five minutes and because of the way Joe had to bend to throw, his side began knotting up. So when he stood up, he leaned the other way to stretch the muscle and eased it.
Frank had finished skimming a four-bouncer when he suddenly said, "Joe, when Iola died – and I know this is in no way a comparison – but—"
"—It's okay," Joe was quick to assure him in a nonchalant tone.
"Well, I remember you had nightmares, right?"
Joe smiled, but was careful not to let Frank see, skimming another pebble with his back to him. "Yeah I did, and intense ones at times. Why do you ask?"
"How did you stop them from happening?"
"Why, are you gettin' them?"
"They're interfering with my sleep."
Joe decided to apply some gentle pressure: "Why do you think you're suffering from them?" he asked and tossed another stone. Immediately upon the rock leaving his fingers, he was aware of a sudden, building pressure in his side and he began to cramp up again. "Not now, not now!" he remonstrated and attempted to ignore it and act as if nothing was wrong, hoping it would pass. He leaned forward, gripped his knees and pretended to watch his brother's pebble bounce while taking in silent deep breathes through bared teeth.
Frank continued: "Do you have any ideas as to what I can do to rid myself of them?"
Joe stood upright and put his hands on his waist to stretch, and started pacing about; making believe he was searching for a suitable stone and waiting for the discomfort to lessen. "The thing is, Frank, you have to explore the reasons why they're occurring in the first place before you can—" he stopped for a second and swallowed hard before continuing, "—really get to the crux…of the…of the—" and that was all he was capable of saying for the moment.
His hands were back on his knees and he knew he was lurching into an attack of the worst muscle spasm he'd had in weeks. All that travelling, walking uphill and stone skimming had caught up with him – big time! He gritted his teeth, a whining noise escaping from somewhere deep within despite his best effort to stay silent. It sounded unnerving, even to him.
Joe heard his brother drop his latest pebble and move quickly towards him, before then feeling hands gripping his shoulders. "What's wrong?" Frank demanded to know.
In an attempt to lessen the impact of what was about to occur, and while he still could speak half coherently, Joe raised his head, looked his brother dead in the eyes and blurted out: "Frank, something that will look bad is goin' to happen, but this is something my doctor warned me about and it's totally normal."
Frank was gawking at him, his eyes wide with confusion and concern.
Joe made a strangled noise as the first wave hit him and he began to sink.
Frank switched his hands from Joe's shoulders to his elbows and supported him all the way down, helping to ensure that he didn't hit the ground hard. "What is it? What's happening? What's wrong?"
Lying on his back with his legs drawn up and unable to answer for the moment, Joe closed his eyes and cupped his side, concentrating on riding it out. When the cramp started to finally ease, he opened them again and caught Frank holding and staring down into his cell phone's screen. Second-guessing his intention, Joe reached out and gripped around his brother's hand and the handset, trapping them and stopping him from being able to dial. "No need for an ambulance, just help me back to the cabin."
"Are you sure?" Frank asked, immediately replacing the phone for his walking stick and hurriedly unfolding it.
"Yeah, quick, before it starts again!" Joe urgently pushed himself up off the ground with his brother's help and they began moving towards the house, Joe relying heavily on Frank's left arm for help. They got about half way there when the second wave hit and they had to stop again.
"Are you sure you don't want me to get some help?" Frank asked, once the whimpering had stopped.
Joe shook his head, vehemently. "I've got some medication back in my room, I just need to get at it."
So Frank helped him up again and they moved towards the cabin. One more mini stop on the stairs outside the patio door, but for Frank's knee this time, and they finally made it to Joe's room.
Joe immediately collapsed onto the bed grunting and writhing around as the mythical fist began grinding relentlessly into his muscle again. "This is so not cool!" Joe gasped out, the pain now not coming in waves, but attacking without mercy or respite.
"Where the hell is that medication?" Frank asked, searching urgently through his brother's saddlebags and making a bit of a mess.
"My toiletry bag," Joe forced out. "Stop stressing!"
"You're not seeing what I'm seeing!" Frank shot back and finally put his hands on the little jar of pills and quickly read the label. "Two, right?" he asked for confirmation.
Joe nodded, perspiration beading his brow.
Frank left hurriedly to get some water and when he returned, Joe allowed his brother to pull him half upright so he could swallow the tablets down. Twenty minutes later, he was starting to feel less uncomfortable, the creases in his face smoothing out.
"What was that?" Frank asked. "Man, it was like watching Alien, but with less gore – you could have warned me!"
Joe was still self-comforting by stroking his side. "When I was shot, they didn't only kill my kidney, they decimated the one side of my abs. The bullet did that thing where it left a small entrance but large exit wound. My muscles are nearly healed, but they still get painful sometimes if I overdo it. The pills are a muscle relaxant, but I only take them when things get bad. I hadn't had a bout of cramp for ages before this, so I thought I was done with them. They'll knock me out in a little while, so you won't have to listen to my yammering soon."
Frank slumped down onto the side of the bed. "Joe, I'm real sorry. I wish you'd never had to get up onto the school roof that night, and the shooting—"
Joe cut him off. "Don't be stupid, dude! If I hadn't gone, you'd be dead right now and who would be around to give me my pills then? It was only a muscle spasm." He felt himself growing steadily wearier, eyes drooping. "I'm goin' to have that nap now, but don't sit there all night staring at me, it gives me the creeps." He settled himself more comfortably and closed his eyes, aware that his brother hadn't moved.
Joe lay there for a while, silent and still and felt himself starting to float up. But then, with one final burst of energy, he sought out his brother's wrist and lightly gripped on. "It's not your fault, dude," he muttered. "Stop beating yourself up about it. We'll talk tomorrow, yeah?" He thought he heard a shuddered sigh in reply, but he wasn't sure because his eyelids were so heavy he simply couldn't lift them to see. So instead, he submitted to the insistent ebb and flow and allowed himself to completely drift away, leaving Frank standing alone on the shore.