Creature (10 page)

Blake Tanner blinked. The implications of what Jerry Harris was saying could be enormous. “Have you talked to Ted Thornton about this?” he asked.

Harris smiled thinly. “I didn’t have to,” he said. “It’s Ted’s policy. And it’s a policy,” he added, “that I happen to be in one-hundred-percent agreement with. TarrenTech made this town. We are, one way or another, responsible for everything that happens here. And we don’t shirk that responsibility.”

When he left Harris’s office that morning, Blake Tanner had a new respect for the company—and the people—he worked for. Silverdale, he was beginning to suspect, was not simply going to be a new step in his career.

It might very well change his life.

   Mark Tanner found himself walking home alone after school. He had waited in front of the building for Linda Harris for twenty minutes, and when she hadn’t shown up, he’d finally wandered around to the back. Just as he’d rounded the corner of the building, the door from the boys’ locker room had flown open and the football squad, dressed in practice gear, had trotted out onto the playing field. He’d called out to Robb Harris, but either Robb hadn’t heard him
or had chosen to ignore him. He was about to call out again when the coach appeared and Mark realized that perhaps neither had been true. For as the coach had approached the squad, all of whom were standing in a neat formation, he had suddenly stopped and glared at one of the boys in the rear rank.

“Fifty push-ups!” he’d shouted. “Now!”

As Mark watched, the boy had immediately dropped to the ground and begun pumping his body up and down. It wasn’t until he’d already completed ten of the push-ups that Mark realized what the boy’s infraction had been.

He’d waved to one of the girls on the drill team, which was already in the midst of its practice session on the next field. “Holy shit,” Mark whispered to himself. He started to turn away, then heard Linda calling his name. Looking up, he saw her waving to him.

“Hi,” he said as he walked over to where she was standing with three other girls and two boys. “I was sort of looking for you.”

“Cheerleading practice,” Linda told him. “And then I have to go over to the library. Want to wait for me?”

Mark shook his head. “Can’t,” he said. “Mom needs me to help her with the unpacking.” He hesitated. “Do you practice every day?”

Linda smiled and shook her head. “Just three days a week, and once during the evening before a game.” Their eyes met for a moment, and then, feeling himself reddening, Mark turned away.

“Well, see you tomorrow, I guess,” he mumbled.

He didn’t see Linda smiling after him, nor did he see Jeff LaConner, who had paused on the football field for a moment, staring speculatively in his direction.

Instead of going directly home, Mark decided to walk down Colorado Street to the shopping district, look around for a few minutes, then cut back over to Telluride Drive. He walked slowly, gazing at each of the houses as he passed, his mind already framing the ornate Victorian-style buildings in
the lens of his camera. Almost every one of them, he decided, was worth a picture.

Calendar shots, that’s what they looked like.

He filed the idea away, wondering what you did to sell pictures for calendars.

A quarter of an hour later he came to the small collection of buildings, all facing on a little square, that served as Silverdale’s downtown section. Like the rest of the town, the commercial area looked like something out of another century. It was a series of free-standing buildings, most of them of wood-frame construction in a style that reminded Mark of a western movie. Wooden sidewalks, raised above the narrow, bricked street by a couple of steps, connected the buildings, and there was a large parking lot laid out behind the Safeway store. The street itself seemed only to be used by pedestrians and a couple of dogs that lay sunning themselves in the middle of the road. Mark stopped to scratch one of the dogs. When he looked up, he saw a camera shop, the name
SPALDING’S
emblazoned in bright blue letters over the door. The shop was small, tucked into the narrow space between the drugstore and the hardware store.

It was then the idea came to him.

If he had a job after school, there was no way his father could insist that he go out for sports.

Straightening up, he tucked his shirt neatly into his jeans, then walked into the camera store. From behind the counter a friendly-looking man with gray hair and wire-framed glasses smiled genially at him.

“What can I do for you?” the man asked.

“Are you Mr. Spalding?” Mark asked.

The man nodded. “None other. And who might you be?”

“Mark Tanner,” Mark replied. “I just moved here, and I was wondering if maybe you needed some help. Just part-time, after school and maybe on weekends.”

Henry Spalding’s brows arched skeptically. For a moment Mark was certain he was going to be turned down flat. Then, to his surprise, Spalding cocked his head thoughtfully. “Well,
actually, I’ve been thinking about some help. Ski season is coming, and that always brings some people around. Then there’s Christmas, and whatnot.” His gaze sharpened slightly. “But it’s evenings I’d need.”

Mark thought quickly. What difference did it make? If he was working in the evenings, he’d have to do his studying in the afternoons. “That’s okay,” he said. “That would be perfect.”

Spalding disappeared into the tiny office at the back of the store and returned with a crumpled and stained job-application form. “Well, why don’t you fill this out, and then we can talk,” he said, handing the application to Mark. As Mark fished a pen out of the bottom of his book bag, Spalding regarded him speculatively. “What team are you on?” he asked. “You look kind of small for football. Tennis, maybe? Or baseball?”

Mark shook his head, not looking up from the form. “I’m not on any of the teams,” he said. “I’m … well, I guess I’m a lot better at photography than I am at sports.”

Suddenly Mr. Spalding’s hand appeared in Mark’s line of sight, pulling the application back.

“Not on any team?” he heard the man asking, and looked up to see Spalding gazing quizzically at him.

“N-No,” Mark stammered. “Why?”

“Why, because it makes all the difference in the world,” Spalding told him. “This is Silverdale, son. Here, we support our teams. And that includes making sure they get first pick of the part-time jobs.” Then, seeing the look of disappointment in Mark’s eyes, he tried to soften the blow. “Tell you what,” he said. “I’ll give the school a call tomorrow and sort of see what’s what. Maybe nobody on the teams will want the job here. And if they don’t, then you can surely have it yourself.”

Mark bit his lip and managed to thank Henry Spalding before he picked up his book bag and backed out of the little shop. But as he started home, he knew that there would be no job for him at Spalding’s camera shop.

After all, he’d overheard one of the boys in his photography class talking that morning about looking for a job until baseball season started.

As he turned onto Telluride Drive, Mark began to wonder if maybe he wasn’t wrong about Silverdale after all. A week ago it had all seemed so exciting.

Now it didn’t seem exciting at all.

6

Sharon Tanner stood at the kitchen sink, her lips pursed, her brows pulled together in a worried frown. Though there were four steaks sizzling on the grill behind her, she had forgotten them for the moment, for she was watching Mark, who was seated cross-legged on the lawn near the garage, staring blankly at the rabbit hutch. Though she’d been watching him closely for only a few minutes, she’d been vaguely aware of his presence in the backyard for at least half an hour. That in itself wasn’t unusual; Mark usually spent at least an hour a day taking care of the rabbits, petting them, checking them, or just playing with them, letting them run free in the yard for Chivas to chase, confident that the dog would bring them back unharmed.

But today something was different. Instead of frolicking around Mark and sniffing eagerly at the hutch, Chivas was sprawled out on the ground beside his master. The dog’s forelegs were stretched out in front of him and his massive head rested quietly on his paws. Behind him, his tail lay limply on the ground, and though he looked as if he might be asleep, Sharon could see even from the kitchen that his eyes were open and staring up at Mark’s face.

Chivas, too, apparently sensed that something was wrong. And now that she thought about it, Sharon realized that it wasn’t only today. All week, it seemed in retrospect, Mark had grown quieter and quieter, spending more and more time by himself, wandering around in the hills with Chivas after school, or just sitting by himself in the backyard, staring at the rabbits in their cage. But she was almost certain he wasn’t seeing the rabbits at all. No, something else was on his mind, something he hadn’t been willing to talk about. When Kelly came into the kitchen, demanding to know when dinner was going to be ready, Sharon made up her mind.

“In a few minutes, honey,” she told the little girl. “How’d you like to take care of the steaks for me?”

Kelly’s eyes glittered with pleasure, and she instantly picked up the large fork from the counter by the grill and stabbed experimentally at one of the thick T-bones that were just barely beginning to brown. “Is it time to turn them?”

“Every four minutes,” Sharon replied, glancing at the meat and deciding she had at least fifteen minutes in which to talk with her son. Leaving Kelly alone in the kitchen, she went out into the yard and dropped down on the lawn next to Mark. As if sensing that help for his master had arrived, Chivas sat up, his tail wagging, his big trusting eyes fixed on her expectantly.

“Want to talk about it?” Sharon asked.

Mark glanced at her curiously. “Talk about what? Did I do something wrong?”

“No,” Sharon replied. “But I’m your mother. I can tell when something’s bothering you. You get quiet. But quiet won’t fix anything.”

Mark took a deep breath, then sighed. “I—I guess I’m just not sure I like Silverdale,” he said, looking away.

“This is only Thursday. In less than a week you’ve already decided you don’t like it? You were the one who was so excited about coming, remember?”

Mark nodded glumly. “I know. And I know how much Dad likes it. Even Kelly’s stopped sulking about her friends at home.”

“And you don’t want to rain on anybody’s parade. Right?”

Mark hesitated, then nodded. “I guess so,” he admitted. But then, as he met his mother’s gaze, everything that had been building up inside him since Monday came pouring out. “All anyone here thinks about is sports,” he said. “Mom, I can’t even get a job, ’cause I’m not on any of the teams.”

Sharon stared at him in confusion. What on earth was he talking about? “A job?” she asked. “Why are you looking for a job?”

Mark flushed self-consciously. “I—Well, I thought if I had a job, Dad might get off my back about going out for sports. I mean, if I was working, I wouldn’t have time to play, would I?”

Sharon could hardly keep from laughing out loud, but the look of appeal in her son’s eyes stopped her. “Well, aren’t you the devious one,” she said, allowing herself a small chuckle. “I have to admit, it would probably work. So what’s the problem?”

Mark shrugged, and told her what had happened at the camera store on Monday afternoon. The scene had been repeated on Tuesday and Wednesday afternoons, as he’d presented himself at other shops. Today, Henry Spalding’s words had been repeated to him again, this time at the drugstore. “What am I going to do? I’m not going to make any of the teams, and I’m not going to be able to get a job, and Dad’s going to start riding me.”

The two of them sat without speaking for a few minutes, as if the silence itself might provide a solution. Finally, Sharon shrugged. “I wish I knew what to tell you,” she said. “I’ll try to keep your father from pushing you too hard. But you know your father.” She gave Mark an affectionate pat on the back, then scrambled to her feet. “Come on. Supper’s almost ready.”

But Mark shook his head. “I’m not very hungry,” he said, looking up at her. “Is it all right if I just skip dinner? Maybe I’ll take Chivas up into the hills.”

Sharon considered it for a moment, then made up her
mind. He’s almost sixteen, she told herself. He has to start working things through for himself. “Okay,” she agreed. “But just make sure you get back before dark. I don’t want you getting lost up there.”

Mark grinned at her, and the change in his expression alone was enough to make Sharon certain she’d made the right decision. “I won’t. But even if I did, Chivas would get us back.”

As Sharon started back to the kitchen where Kelly was already yelling that the steaks were going to burn, Mark and Chivas disappeared down the driveway.

   Mark wasn’t certain how long he’d been gone. In fact, he hadn’t really been paying too much attention to how they’d gotten here. With Chivas romping ahead of him, he’d walked north until he’d come to the edge of town, then followed the winding course of the river for a quarter of a mile to a small footbridge. Crossing the bridge, he’d found three paths leading in as many directions, and chosen the one that would take him uphill. Within twenty minutes they’d come to the edge of the valley and started up into the mountains.

The tree-dotted meadowlands of the valley quickly gave way to thick stands of pines interspersed with groves of aspen. Chivas, his whole body quivering with pleasure at the strange aromas that filled his nostrils, kept bounding off into the woods, giving chase to the squirrels and birds, or anything else that moved. Mark himself kept to the trail, working ever higher. Then, as he came around a tight bend, he found himself standing at the top of a steep bluff that commanded a view of the entire valley. For some reason the crest of the bluff was clear of trees, but in several places the tall grass had been matted down where deer had apparently bedded for the night. Mark glanced around for Chivas, but the big dog was nowhere to be seen. The sun, still a little above the horizon, felt warm after the deep shade of the woods, so he
dropped down onto one of the deer beds and gazed out over the valley.