The Field: A Novel

Jason Fuhrman

The Field

A Novel

Copyright © 2017 by Jason Fuhrman

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

First edition

This book was professionally typeset on Reedsy

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For Mike, who made me start it, and for Breanna who made me finish it

Contents

I. TRUST ME

1. Flight or Flight

2. Wasteland

3. Bigger Monsters

4. Dump

5. Scars

6. Bard

7. Charbroiled

8. Red

9. Hell Hole

10. Demons

11. Angels

12. Relics

13. A Foot Taller

14. The Cost

15. Day’s End

16. The Calm

17. Charlie

18. More Scars

19. The Snake’s Tail

II. FIRE AND ASH

20. Over

21. Peace

22. The Visitor

23. That Night

24. Aurora

25. The Wolf

26. The Hunt

27. Gallows

28. Coward

29. Release

30. Free

31. Trapped

32. No Going Back

33. Silent Movies

34. Eventually, Never

35. Beginnings and Endings

III. 10,000 DAYS

36. The Mirror

37. The Gallery

38. Ghosts

39. Gone

40. Masonsvale

41. Open Wounds

42. The Boy From Long Ago

43. Blasphemy

44. A World Away

45. See you Soon

46. Rustling in the Grass

IV. YOU ASKED ME ONCE

47. Lights and Sounds

48. Barriers

49. Still Time

50. The Gift

51. The Road Ahead

Want More?

Afterword

About the Author

Also by Jason Fuhrman

I

Trust Me

1

Flight or Flight

Will wiped the sweat from his forehead.

Behind a barbed-wire fence of wooden posts and a sprawling front yard infested with piles of rusted scrap, the house stood silent. It had eight windows, as many eyes as a spider had, and whitewashed siding made of warped and stained panels, which armored its two stories like the plates of an exoskeleton. A few panels were missing, maybe where monstrous appendages came out to grab trespassers when they got too close. Or maybe they were battle scars, left unrepaired as monuments to its survival, worn with pride.

What did you say the house looked like again? Eddie asked.

Like that, Will said, wiping his face again with his shirtsleeve.

You’re lying. No way it’s the same house.

Well, not exactly the same, but it was white and old.

Eddie walked to the fence without hesitation. It looked like the kind used to keep cows from wandering onto the highway. But there were no cows.

Eddie studied the fence, his eyes inches away from the topmost wire. What happened to the people when they went in?

One girl was hung on a meat hook, and there was a guy who was hit with a big hammer. He fell on the floor and started to flop around like a fish.

Whoa.

Yeah.

Well, I guess we better do this. Eddie put one hand between the metal thorns and vaulted over the fence.

Will didn’t move. They had passed the house countless times on their way to and from school, never thinking much about it. But now that he was closer to it than he’d ever been, his feet remained immovable, as if they had grown roots.

Come on, Will, Eddie said. It’ll be cool, I promise. You like this stuff. Stop just watching it, and live it.

Yeah, yeah. He could do this.

Well? Eddie wiggled the fence wire with both hands in invitation.

Will looked over his shoulder at the dumpster they had stashed their backpacks behind. He had decided that the weight would only slow them down—or provide a convenient handle for any possible pursuer.

Our backpacks will be fine. Quit stalling. I don’t want to be around here when it gets dark.

Will approached the fence, looking for a broken wire or any place where he could squeeze through. He’d be damned if he was going to climb the thing. It might be able to hold Eddie’s willowy frame, but his would give it a little more trouble.

Damn it, Will. Just hop over. It’s easy. Here, I’ll hold it steady for you.

Whatever, screw that.

Dude, I’m not kidding. Just do it real quick.

Will pointed to a loose wire. There. Just pull that one up a little, and I’ll crawl under.

Jeez. Fine.

Will squirmed under the fence and got to his feet, brushing the dirt off his chest. See?

If we have to get out of here fast, it’ll be easier to hop over.

Will shrugged off the comment and walked toward the house.

Hey, wait up, Eddie called out.

Heat waves emanated from the ground, warping the surrounding heaps of rubble. What do you think all this stuff is for? Will asked.

I don’t know. He probably likes junk. I bet there’s a lot of cool stuff here, though.

Hey, check it out. A sickle. A rusted blade stuck out of a shopping cart piled with what looked like bike parts.

Cool. But those are just for cutting down crops.

Or killing people.

I know what you’re trying to do, and it won’t work. Don’t act like you weren’t freaked out a minute ago. Eddie jogged ahead to inspect something sticking out of the dirt. Man, I’m glad we’re not here at night, though. That’s when all the bad stuff in those movies happens, right?

Well, not this one. Remember, I told you it was during the day. I think he turned on the generator so no one would hear when he used his chainsaw. Either that or to muffle the sound of people screaming.

Eddie stared at the looming house, his face paler than usual. You’re kidding, right?

The shadow of the house enveloped them, its cool embrace beckoning them closer. A porch swing swayed ever so slightly below a broad window. Come on, Will said. Would a killer have a porch swing?

I don’t know. What do you think?

Will walked toward the house. I guess I forgot to tell you that the guy lived with his killer mom and she loved porch swings.

Huh?

Nothing.

Eddie caught up with Will and crouched between an oil drum and a car door. Get down. We’re close now.

Will knelt beside him. Now what?

I say we go between all this stuff and make our way to the window over there. He pointed. The curtain doesn’t look closed. I bet we could peek inside.

Man, I don’t know. Maybe we should just head back. We just wanted to get a closer look, right?

Eddie looked directly in his eyes. Don’t tell me you’re chickening out now?

No. Basement floors covered in blood. People dangling from hooks. Someone waiting in a dark corner, ready to—

Good. Come on.

They made their way through the maze of refuse like soldiers in foxholes, creeping closer to the enemy, Eddie in the lead. He made random turns he said were strategic maneuvers to guarantee they weren’t being followed. Will knew better than to argue. Besides, it was just getting hotter. Even the prospect of getting a glimpse inside the house—and what they might see—didn’t outweigh a cold soda from the Stop N Buy.

Eddie held his hand back. Okay.

Now what? You think it’s okay to stand up? Will’s legs burned from all the squat walking.

Eddie dove across the gap between the house and where Will was crouched.

How am I supposed to do that? Eddie’s acrobatics must be payback for freaking him out earlier.

You don’t need to stand up. Just crawl over, but do it fast.

Will scrambled over like a crab with a few broken legs, caught his shoe in a pothole, and fell, hitting his head against the side of the house.

Shit, are you okay?

Will looked up at Eddie with one eye. I’m fine.

We’re right below the window now, Eddie said. See? I told you I knew what I was doing.

Who’s looking first?

Me, I guess. I’m the one who got us here.

But it was my idea in the first place.

No, it wasn’t. You just told me about the movie, and I was the one who said we should check it out.

But you wouldn’t have thought to check it out if I didn’t tell you about the movie and how this house looked a lot like the one in it.

Well … Eddie spun on his heels and used the windowsill to pull himself up.

Damn it. Will stood, too, and peered into the window, but all he saw was a white curtain. Nice.

How was I supposed to know? Look how many windows this house has. We’ll just try another one.

They crept along the perimeter until they reached the next window.

Will paused to listen. All he heard was the distant hum of traffic. I say I get the first look this time.

Eddie shrugged.

Will crawled his hands up the wall, the grooves of the wood catching on his flesh like tiny spines. His pulse thumped from his throat to the sides of his head.

Almost there.

He looked in.

The curtains on the other side of the window parted from a sudden breeze, allowing him to look inside. A ceiling fan hung from a bronze pole, its polished blades spinning slowly. Will saw his own half-headed reflection in a mirror on the opposite wall, which looked like it was peeking over the back of the cracked leather recliner that sat there. In the center of the room, stacked with issues of National Geographic, was a glass-topped coffee table.

The room was clean. No bodies, no blood, no hooks.

Well? Eddie asked.

Will flinched when a bead of stinging sweat trickled into his eye. He brought his hands up to wipe it, but his knuckle rapped against cold glass instead.

Shh, Eddie said, rising to his feet.

A mechanical roar cut through the air.

Eddie pulled Will down from the window and tumbled into the dirt, taking Will along with him. Once Will cleared the grit from his eyes, he looked up from his hands and knees and saw Eddie’s mouth forming words, but he couldn’t hear him over the din.

Will got to his feet and barreled after Eddie, who was rounding the corner of the house.

Come on! A distant shout.

Will followed it to the best of his ability, but he skidded to a halt when he saw the rusted monster. Spattered with oil and grime, it shook on its chain like a rabid dog trying to escape.

A generator.

He ran.

Between the blinding sun and the roaring generator, his senses were numb. All he could see was the fortress of trash in front of him, but at least it was in the opposite direction of the house. There had to be a break in it somewhere.

A tangle of red hair burst from around a fallen refrigerator, followed by a pair of wild green eyes. Hurry up, Eddie said. I found a way out!

Will nodded through his stagger. With each step, the generator became quieter. Eddie grabbed his arm, leading him through the trash, kicking away any small object they didn’t have to run around. The mounds were getting smaller. He could almost make out civilization again.

But then, he saw it.

The barbed-wire fence.

It stretched into infinity. There was no way that he could crawl under it this time. Eddie had been right.

Here we go. Eddie’s eyes narrowed, his tongue stuck out in concentration.

Eddie let go of Will’s arm and leaped over the fence like an Olympic high jumper, landing on both feet, then extended his hand over the fence in a final flourish. Will took it and anchored his foot on the middle wire, pushing down on it with all of his strength.

He flew over the fence, gravity losing its hold. His flailing arms rode on jet streams. Rocks, twigs, and dirt blurred below him.

His feet landed flat on the ground, not his face to his bafflement.

See, I told you. Easy, Eddie called over his shoulder.

Will had no breath to say a word, still marveling at the fact that he hadn’t eaten dirt yet, his legs pushing him onward.

His heels slammed against concrete and then the asphalt of the Stop N Buy’s rear parking lot. The blue dumpster was just ahead, and he charged toward it, his lungs crumpled sandwich bags but his legs somehow a steam engine high on fuel. Finally, he closed the distance and collapsed behind the dumpster, wheezing out the last of his breath. The cold wall against his back was a welcome change.

Eddie peeked around the dumpster. Come over here. You have to see this.

Just give me a minute.

Man, you okay? You sound like a busted kazoo.

Yeah, I’m fine. Like I said, I just need a minute to catch my breath.

Eddie’s head swiveled, his attention drawn to something in the distance. Hurry, come check this out.

Will shambled over to Eddie, who was at the edge of the parking lot. Through the waves of heat and the silhouetted mounds, he saw a man—or thing—standing on the back porch. He was a giant. The open screen door bent to his will, its rickety frame warped in the grip of his ham-sized fist. His head and face were a mess of hair, and he wore a faded flannel shirt, which hung open to reveal a stained tank top. Something around his neck. An apron? Maybe this was the horror of Texas relocated to the pit of Central California after all. No mask, but he probably didn’t wear it all the time anyway.

He’s … huge, Eddie said. Like a grizzly bear.

No. Like a Kodiak bear.

Wh-what’s a Kodiak bear?

A bigger one.

Wow.

Will stood there, transfixed on the beast of a man, and didn’t let his gaze slip until the screen door closed. The generator sputtered off, the buzz of traffic filling the void. Eddie leaned against the dumpster and slid to the pavement. Will sat on the curb next to him.

After a while, Eddie said, That was crazy, Will.

I know. You think—

Nah, no way. But maybe. Eddie’s brow wrinkled.

I don’t think so, either. I mean, it was just a movie.

You told me it was based on a true story.

Well … Eddie had a point.

Eddie grinned. You know what sounds good right now?

What?

A nice cold—

Coke.

Eddie adjusted one of the safety pins that kept his shoes together and hopped to his feet. Hey, do you think I can borrow a dollar?

2

Wasteland

Will and Eddie exited the Stop N Buy, each with a giant red cup in hand.

You better stop messing with that guy, Will said between slurps. Sooner or later, he’s not going to let you in there anymore.

Whatever. A refill is when you finish your drink and then go back for seconds. I just tasted it to make sure it was okay before I filled my whole cup. You know how they sometimes either have no flavor or aren’t fizzy enough.

I know. Just sayin’.

Will pressed the crosswalk button at the corner of Willow Lane. Traffic flew by in a blur. He always hated to cross this road. Even with the little green man lighting up on the other side, telling him everything would be fine. With all the dead animals littering this street, he wondered how it wasn’t stained red. Usually a crossing guard was on duty before and after school, but their detour to Kodiak’s house must have taken too long. The little green man blinked to life.

The stopped cars rumbled deep in their engines and spit up heat as Will and Eddie crossed the road. The blinking red hand showed up before they made it to the other side, like it always did.

What do you want to do now? Will asked.

The Field?

Yeah, but it’ll probably be dark soon.

Nah, we still have a few hours left. It’ll be cooler anyway.

That’s true. We need to get Charlie, though. My dad will probably let me stay out there later if we do. He always says I should take him on more walks.

Eddie tilted his head back, slumping his shoulders. But that means we have to bring the wagon with us. I hate doing that.

You want to carry him back home?

Eddie took a long drink. No. Okay, let’s go.

Will walked out of the backyard gate with Charlie. Eddie followed, dragging the old Radio Flyer behind him, which squeaked and rattled over every bump and crack. When Will looped Charlie’s leash around his hand a few times, the old dog nuzzled him for a scratch. Will obliged, running his fingers through the fur on Charlie’s head, the groove on his brow, wondering when the black had turned into a blotchy white mask.

Hey, boy. How you doing today?

Charlie hobbled along, drifting behind them.

Keep up the pace, old man, Eddie said.

Charlie’s tail wagged once before it disappeared in the shaggy fur of his haunches.

The trio made their way down the sidewalk toward their destination. The front yards they passed were empty. Everybody must have been inside, avoiding the heat, and Will didn’t think that was such a bad idea. Even though it was cooling off, the ground still sweltered from baking in the sun all day.

Finally, the End sign came into view. It stood there like a guardian atop a wide pile of dirt that stretched the width of the road. Eddie hurried past Will and Charlie, dragging the wagon up and over it until the last shock of his hair vanished. Will climbed up and took in the view.

It was endless. Patches of powdery dirt, like quicksand, intermixed with hardpan and rocks. A few stubborn weeds stood at attention, battling the sun and the parched earth. Abstract shapes lay half buried here and there, the remnants of ones who dared to challenge the wasteland. Farther still was the rock quarry, where rusted machines plumed black clouds into the sky while they formed the immaculate sculptures that would have been disrespectful to climb. There was also the refinery, surrounded by the only form of life that somehow thrived—the eucalyptus trees. Proud soldiers they were, rooted to their post, shrugging off the broiling days of summer and the biting frost of winter. They guarded great black cylinders behind a chain-link fence topped with barbed wire. What happened inside was unknown.

Eddie was ahead, scanning the area. When Will caught up to him, he unlatched Charlie’s leash. Charlie contemplated his freedom a moment before he headed off to whatever adventures an old dog could find.

Can I stash this wagon in the bushes over there? Eddie nodded to the tumbleweeds that were piled against the backyard fences of the houses bordering The Field.

I guess, Will said. Just don’t forget where you put it.

It’s bright red. I don’t think we’re going to lose it.

Will thought about making a joke about Eddie’s hair, but he couldn’t come up with anything. They covered up the wagon with tumbleweeds and marked it with a discarded white fence post.

Hey, so I’ve been working on a new story, Eddie said, making his way along a trail of deep tire tracks. Want to hear it?

Sure.

"Two travelers decided to brave the wasteland. They’d been holed up in a makeshift shelter for weeks. Their food was gone, and they only had a few drops of water left. Unfortunately, they needed to travel by day because the Drikaarians hunted at night.

The first traveler wrapped his face with a cloth to protect it from the burning wind. He helped his friend out of the shelter because he injured himself on a razor-wire trap just a few days ago. The Drikaarians were a tricky race.

Will listened in silence, imagining himself as one of the travelers who sought riches at the risk of certain death. Charlie sniffed around the distant eucalyptus trees.

But finally, Eddie said, after hours of walking, the travelers saw something in the distance. Was it a mirage? Was it the work of a sorcerer? They didn’t know, but their only choice was to investigate.

They stopped at the edge of the canal. The bed was dry. A coating of algae clung to life on on the rocks that littered the bottom. To their right, the canal bed disappeared into two drainage pipes.

Eddie said, The uninjured traveler told his friend to wait a minute and climbed down into the pit. He could see something shimmering in the darkness.

Eddie slid down and crawled into one of the pipes. Hey, Will. You gotta check this out.

When Will reached the bottom, he saw Eddie’s dark shape cutting through the light at the other end of the tunnel. He heard the sound of shuffling paper between Eddie’s giggles.

What is it? Will stepped inside. Mud squished around his shoes, gluing him to the ground, and the ripe smell of thriving slime filled the moist air.

Look. This is so rad. Eddie pressed something into Will’s hands.

Forms took shape on the pages. A magazine. Was that a face? Oh, man. Will could see boobs. Big ones.

Yeah, I know. Awesome, huh? Eddie’s giggles transformed into gasps of awe.

Where did you get these? Were they just down here in the dirt?

I saw something sticking out of the mud over here. It’s a lunch box. Eddie held it up. It wore algae and mud like a second coat of paint, bits of navy blue peeking through the grime. The kind of lunch box his dad used to take to work. Back when he did work.

Who would bury naked lady magazines in a lunch box?

Who cares. Eddie turned a page. The whites of his eyes grew, darting around like a pinball.

Will couldn’t look away from the bare flesh on the pages in his hands. A woman on all fours gazed over her shoulder at him, her plump lips parted, licking a bright red lollipop. He turned another page. The same woman was in a shower. Water cascaded down her skin from a steaming shower head, making it glisten, reflecting the white-hot sun rays that glared through the frosted glass window behind her. Bubblegum-colored nipples stuck out like brand-new pencil erasers.

As if Eddie knew exactly what Will was staring at, he said, You think Ms. Acherman has pink or brown nipples?

Will lowered the magazine onto his lap. Eddie clutched Voluptuous Vixens with white-knuckled fingers, concealing everything from his shoulders to the top of his head.

Ms. Acherman was a goddess. She was also their fourth-grade teacher. Polished ivory skin. Golden hair that could buy a kingdom. Lips of precious jewels. Brown nipples would just be weird. Pink, he said.

Yeah. I think so, too. You think she has a bush this big? Eddie turned his magazine at Will. A full-page spread. The woman had black hair that reflected electric blue, carving an oil river all the way down her snowy swells. Her legs were pressed together, forming a subtle line that curved into a patch so dark it almost looked like a hole ran all the way through the back cover.

Holy crap, Will said. That looks like Abraham Lincoln’s beard. Except bigger.

Eddie exploded into a series of snorts, coughs, and wheezes, his face ripening to a brilliant red. Will laughed along, wiping away tears. After they caught their breath and exchanged magazines a few times, they tossed them back into the lunch box and sealed it for another day.

So what do you think of my new story so far? Eddie asked.

I like it a lot.

Yeah?

Yeah.

Well, thanks. Sometimes I’m afraid you won’t like them.

I always like your stories. I wish I could make up stuff like that.

Eddie didn’t answer, focused on something in the darkness above.

You should write them down. Why don’t you?

Somewhere, far away, an ambulance siren blared and faded.

Because if I write it down, it can’t change.

What do you mean? Sure it can. You just erase it and write something else.

Stories are supposed to live. Like people. Writing them down is like throwing them in jail forever.

In the dim light, Eddie’s face was etched with lines and cut with shadow.

Uh, okay, Will finally said.

Eddie frowned. Whatever. You just don’t get it.

Hey … sorry, I was just messing around.

Yeah, just messing around with my stuff, a voice said from the other end of the pipe.

Will jolted to his feet, bumping his head on the low ceiling.

Eddie hopped into a crouch position. Who is that?

Nobody, said the voice.

Eddie bolted out into the sun, making it a few strides before a leg shot out and tripped him. He hit the ground with his shoulder, rolled, and sprang to his feet in a low stance.

Will used the sides of the pipe for leverage to pull his feet from the hungry mud. A hard kick to his butt forced him out.

Can’t get your fat ass out of the pipe, huh?

Will crossed his arms in front of his face and tried to make sense of the shadow that blotted out the sun. All he saw was butter-yellow teeth and a gray slit running from lip to nostril.

Rick Bishop.

The one sixth grader he didn’t want to see. His dark work on the playground was legendary.

Get the fuck up, Rick said, kicking him in the shin.

Hey! Eddie shouted. Leave him alone, you asshole.

Rick swung around and pushed Eddie with both hands square in the chest. Eddie tripped, arms flailing, and slammed against the bank of the canal.

Hey! Will yelled.

A punch to the gut doubled him over, any words he had left spewing out in a spray of spit. In his peripheral vision, another figure lurked. Robbie, Rick’s younger brother, who always clung to him like a parasite.

Will wrapped his arms around his belly, dropping to his knees. His eyes welled, his stomach knotted. Rick’s shadow crept across the ground.

So, like I said. You were messing with my stuff. Why would you be doing that, huh? It was Rick.

Will’s mouth wouldn’t work, his jaw trembling. He kept his head down. The toe of Rick’s jet-black high top came into view, red smeared on the front of its dingy sole. Was that blood?

I-I—we didn’t know it was your stuff. We were … we were … just walking around, and Eddie found it over there. Will’s shaking finger pointed at the two pipes.

So, your girlfr— A dirt clod exploded on Rick’s face, and his arms went wild, waving away the debris.

Ha! Eddie teetered on the edge of the bank with a fistful of rocks in hand.

Rick clambered up the slope, but he was too late. Eddie ran down the length of the canal toward the railroad tracks, throwing rocks like an Indian warrior vaulting arrows from horseback. One or two managed to hit Rick, but he didn’t slow down.

Shoe heels ground dirt nearby. Will glanced up. Robbie shuffled his feet, craning his neck to see the chase. He crossed and uncrossed his arms, looking down at Will.

Stay down, you fat— Will jumped to his feet and slammed into Robbie, but Robbie’s instincts were animalistic, primitive, and he used Will’s momentum to throw him into the dirt again. Will got a mouthful this