The Fear That Haunts Me

CHAPTER 1

"She started up with a cry, and saw the boy, and somehow she knew at once that he was Peter Pan. If you or I or Wendy had been there we should have seen that he was very like Mrs. Darling's kiss. He was a lovely boy, clad in skeleton leaves and the juices that ooze out of trees but the most entrancing thing about him was that he had all his first teeth. When he saw she was a grown-up, he gnashed the little pearls at her."

Peter Pan

J.M. Barrie

**************

Lost Boys

Wednesday, November 10, 2015

1645 HOURS

"Central, to any Units in the vicinity of Mill Pond?" asked Central Dispatch.

I continued to drive, ignoring the call. I didn't want to get involved in anything that would prolong the watch. Tonight was the Marine Corps birthday. Court at Cohan's Pub would be in session at eight bells of the first watch. Whiskey and Cohan's famous winter stout were the orders of the day. And before long, we'd sing the hymn and howl at the moon.

Unfortunately, a storm was inbound, and we felt the start of the November gales. The sky was overcast with ominous gray and black clouds and was spitting. If the forecast was correct, we would have a nor'easter by eight o'clock tonight. And when Central's second broadcast attempt went unanswered, I looked over at my partner, Johnny Keegan, show shook his head.

"No," he said. He spat a stream of tobacco juice into his cup.

Anxious moments passed with no response from any other unit when Central tried again.

"Ah, shit," I said. I leaned over and took the handset from its cradle. Keegs threw his hands up, sighed, and shouted.

"No. Are you kidding me, Kelly? Seriously?"

He cracked the window enough to take and throw the tobacco wad from his mouth.

"Six three David to Central. Send it," I said.

"Ten—Four Corporal. Anonymous caller reports an intoxicated male fishing. His truck is illegally parked near the hanging tree area of Mill Pond. Handle code one."

"Ten-four, en route."

"These freaking people," said Keegs. "They have nothing better to do than call us about this crap? I mean, for real, Kelly? It's about to rain, and we've got a cyclone coming, and all they care about is a dude on the road."

Keegs popped another chew wad in his mouth and continued complaining about the weather and the anonymous caller.

When I pulled around the corner, the rusted truck was there, and I regretted not heeding Keegs' advice to ignore the call. The nineteen ninety-one Chevy S-10 extended cab pickup belonged to our sergeant. It was parked half on the shoulder and street, its engine still rumbling.

"And the hits just keep on rolling. For Christ's sake. Can this get any freaking worse?" said Keegan. "Sergeant Beck. That's just great. We don't need this shit, Kelly."

"His rank is Staff Sergeant, Keegs. He earned it," I said, frustrated, before calling us on the scene. "Just calm down."

"He can't even stand Kelly. Look at him! He's completely hammered. I'm not into this. It's going to be one giant shit show!"

"Okay, okay, okay. Semper Gumby, my man," I said as I smiled.

Keegs rolled his eyes. "Can you speak English, please? Freaking jarhead crap."