The Anchor

It was a sweltering summer night in the 80’s in July. The campfire was surrounded by the crew. Four high school bruisers, drinking beer and smoking dope. The mosquitoes were buzzing, and they all smelled of bug spray and sweat.

“I stole a boat last week and chained it up across the lake in the woods. I’ve been painting it camouflage; we can use it for fishing.” Jerry said.

“Where’d you steal it from?” Louie asked.

“I was walking through the woods along Jarvis Creek, when I saw it on the bank. I had to find a log to cross the creek. Then, I grabbed the boat and paddled upstream. Then I dragged it through the woods and over hills and paddled it across a couple of lakes to get it here.” Jerry explained.

He popped a Milwaukee’s Best beer and took a big drink. Then, set the beer down and pulled a Marlboro Red from a crumpled pack.

“Hey, let me get a square.” Kevin said, holding out his hand.

Jerry gave him a smoke.

“You gotta light?” Kevin asked.

Jerry looked at him.

“You want me to smoke it for you too?”

“Where’s the boat? Maybe we can put out some jugs, or trotline?” Louis asked

“That’s what I was thinking.” Jerry said.

The crickets sang, and the bull frogs gloated as the boys planned their fishing trip.

“We could gig some frogs too. Frog legs are the best,” Danny chimed in

“I can steal a bottle of whisky from my stepdad’s stash. He won’t know. He’ll think he drank it. Besides, I don’t care if he likes it or not. I stole his brand-new work boots and took them back to Wal-mart for the money. Easy peasy.” Kevin said.

“You stole his boots?” Louis asked.

“Yeah, he had to go to Wal-Mart in his flip flops to buy another pair before work the next day.” Kevin said.

Everybody laughed and drank and smoked to the glory of rebellion.

“I’ll bring hot dogs. buns and fish bait. Chicken livers work best for catfish. I can grab a carton of smokes from my mom too.” Danny said.

The drinking went on until everybody was drunk, passed out in sleeping bags, and fighting the skeeters buzzing in their ears.

***

“Mrs. Costanza can we talk with your son?”

Jerry saw the cop car pull up to the house. He thought about running out the back, but he was curious to find out what was going on.

“Jerry!” Mom yelled.

Jerry hopped down the stairs and smiled at the deputy at the door.

“Jerry this officer wants to talk to you,” Mom said.

Jerry nodded his head but didn’t say anything.

“Come in here to the kitchen table Deputy Logan, you’ll be more comfortable.”

The deputy followed Mom inside and kept Jerry close and in eyesight. The officer pulled out a chair for Jerry to sit down. Then he sat down across the corner from him but within arm’s length.

Jerry wondered if his mom realized she was basically selling him down the river, to a man who she wanted to help make comfortable. She always followed the rules and turned him in to teachers and neighbors and now the cops.

Mrs. Law abiding citizen.

“Jerry, I’m here to ask you about a missing boat you might have found.”

Jerry’s mind rolled. How did he know about the boat and about me?

“Now you’re not in trouble, we just want to find the boat.”

Jerry shrugged his shoulders,

“I got nothing to say.” He told the cop.

The officer leaned back and adjusted his belt.

“Jerry! You stop being rude. The deputy is just trying to find the missing boat. He is your friend here.” Mom said.

Jerry looked into the cop’s eyes and could tell that it was not true. Course Mom believed it, but he and the cop were on the same page.

“Are you saying you don’t know? Or you got nothing to say.” Deputy Logan asked.

Jerry knew that if he said he didn’t know it was a lie and he could be arrested for obstruction, if the cop knew he knew.

So, he played like a dumb kid.

“I watch enough TV shows to know I ain’t supposed to talk to the police about nothin. I want my lawyer.” He said, playing it to the hilt.

“Jerry!’ Mom said. “Officer, I'll tell you anything you wanna know.”

There was the real Mom, right on cue.

“Jerry, we already talked to your friends. They said you stole the boat.”

He knew that was a lie. They wouldn’t snitch, except maybe Louie.

“Who said that? They are lying.”

“Do you know a Louie Young?” Deputy Logan asked.

“Yeah. I know him.”

“He said you told everyone you stole the boat.”

“I didn’t steal the boat, I found it in the woods, and just said I stole it to my friends.”

Where did that stroke of genius come from? Jerry thought.

“Well, we might need to talk to you again” The Deputy said, as he stood up to leave.

Mom helped show him to the door, while Jerry went upstairs and started calling the crew.

“Danny, Louie is a snitch. The cops were just here asking about the boat.” Jerry said into the receiver. He lay on his bed and played with the cord.

“Snitches get stitches” Danny said.

“Yeah, I’m gonna get him.” Jerry said, looking up at his Motley Crue poster.

He called all the rest.

“Louie is a snitch.” He told Kevin.

“What are we going to do?” Kevin asked.

“I’m gonna mess him up. Just tell him we are still going fishing. Don’t mention the boat, or the cops. Just pretend like all this never happened. Tell him we got everything else. All he needs to do is bring an anchor.”

“An anchor?”

“Yeah. Something heavy that can hold things underwater. A few milk jugs full of rocks and a rope will work.”

“What are you going to do”

“Go fishing” Jerry said and hung up the phone.

He planned to crack Louie in the head with his paddle and then dump him in the lake, with the anchor tied around his neck. If he was going to face hard time in prison for stealing a boat, he was going to make sure it was real hard time, and no one would mess with Jerry Costanza again.

***

It was Friday night and Jerry quickly packed his camping backpack with gear. Sleeping bag, knife, matches, canteen of water. He knew they’d have beer and be partying, but it was smart to have the basics. He tossed the bag onto the bed and opened his closet, where he grabbed his fishing pole and tackle box.

Louis was going to get it. Nothing else mattered.

“Why kill him?” a thought came to Jerry.

“Because he’s a snitch!” Jerry said out loud.

He set the fishing gear down and started to put his backpack on when he saw the cop car pull up again. He carried his gear downstairs and set it by the back door. If things got hairy, he’d grab the stuff and run out the back.

“Jerry!”

He came out of the kitchen and looked into the cop’s eyes. He could tell if the cop was here to arrest him. He was ready to bolt.

“Hey Jerry, I just wanted to tell you that we found the boat and took it back to the owner. Thank you for helping us find it.” He said, with a big grin.

Jerry’s mind reeled.

“What is going on?”

‘Well, that’s wonderful!” Mom said. “Isn’t that wonderful Jerry?”

Jerry looked at his mother with disgust.

The cop smiled again.

“Yeah, the owner was thrilled with the new camo paint job. He decided not to press charges. It’ll be great for duck hunting.”

Jerry almost exploded.

“It’s my boat! I stole it, I dragged it through the woods and I painted it! It’s mine!”

He didn’t say it, but he sure thought it.

“Well, alright. Stay out of trouble Jerry, and don’t do drugs.” The deputy handed Jerry a black and white baseball hat with D.A.R.E on it.

Jerry was seething and the cop knew it.

He watched the officer turn and leave.

Like Jerry was going to wear a D.A.R.E hat. Drug Abuse Resistance and Education. The program the cops had for stopping drugs, by telling kids marijuana was from the devil. Jerry had changed the name to D.A.R.E., Drugs Are Really Excellent.

There was no way he was wearing that hat.

“See? Cops are good people. He gave you a hat.” Mom said, smiling at Jerry.

Jerry turned, ignoring his mother and walked upstairs.

He grabbed the phone and called Kevin.

“We ain’t goin fishin. Tell everyone it’s off. The boats gone.”

“What happened?” Kevin asked

“The cops stole it.”

“Ok, let’s just go up town.”

“Yeah.” Jerry said.

“What about Louie?”

“Forget it. I ain’t gonna trust him no more, but he always has money”.

“He can buy the beer”

“Yeah, he never snitches about beer.”

END

Bio: Chris Bunton is a writer and poet from Southern Illinois. His writing leans toward action, crime, fantasy, sci-fi, speculative, true crime and horror. He has been published in Corner Bar Magazine, Yellow Mama, Eldritch Science Magazine, Blood and Honey, White Cat Publications, and others. His poetry has been published in Mind’s Eye Publications, Stygian Lepus Magazine, Lothlorian Poetry Journal, Poetry Habitat and others. He is the Publishing/ Editor for The Yard: Crime Blog.

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