The Garden Club, James Gerard [best beach reads .txt] 📗

he thought.

 

Then, out of the corner of the eye, something caught the attention.  Squinting into the morning sky, Hal could see what looked to be a figure standing atop the hill.  Is that Ron?  Certain that he had continued on through the night, he was rather surprised to see him.

 

Maybe Ron had realized that they had been separated and decided to wait up.  Of it could have been that he too was tired from the fast pace and decided to take some extra rest.  Whatever the reason, Hal was glad to see him.

 

As he approached him from the side, Ron was sitting close to the soil analyzer.  His head was exposed to the night air having shed the suit’s hood.  Figuring he had taken a soil sample just to discover it was hopeless to continue, Ron appeared rejected.  Naw, he’s too damn stubborn to quit.  He’s probably sore is all.

 

Closing in on Ron, Hal too shed the hood.   A tear rolling down a cheek was seen.  Hal contemplated if the deeply personal moment should be disturbed.  Stepping closer, enough of his old friend’s face was seen to see that the familiar look of anger had melted away and gave way to a look of vulnerability that had not seen for so many years.

 

“Are you okay? asked Hal.

 

“Yeah.”

 

“I’d thought you’d be far ahead by now.”

 

“I’d thought you had given up.”

 

“Naw.  I’m not ready to die just yet.”

 

“We can’t be in the Arabian Desert you know.  We must of flown farther south than we thought and ended up somewhere in north Africa.”

 

“How’s that?”

 

“For one thing, there’s too much life around.  I’ve been seeing….”

 

“Snakes and lizards and rodents,” Hal interrupted.

 

“You too?”

 

“Yeah, but that might not mean anything.”

 

“I’ve also done some soil analysis.  If this is supposed to be the toxic hotbed you say it is, then why isn’t it detecting any contamination?”

 

“I don’t know.  Even if we are somewhere in Africa, it still should be picking up low levels of contamination.”

 

“I think we’re in the Sahara Desert,” said Ron.

 

“I’m telling you we can’t be.  Just before the navigator went dead, it showed that we were on course.”

 

“But it has to be the Sahara.”

 

“I don’t think it has terrain like this,” responded Hal.

 

Ron pointed towards another hillside.  “Then explain that.”

 

Hal looked.  “What?”

 

“The shrubs?”

 

“Look again.”

 

Hal scanned the entire hillside but still could not see what Ron was pointing out.

 

“Oh for god’s sake.  Remember where we used to go on our lunch break sometimes that first summer we worked at the zoo?”

 

“Up by the research lab?”

 

“No, that isolated trail closed off to visitors.”

 

“Yeah,” said Hal with a smile.  “By the freeway.  I remember.”

 

“Then look.”

 

Hal once again scanned the hillside carefully.  He eyed every object that was in view.  “I’ll be damned,” he uttered.  “Sheep?”

 

“Maybe there are still small pockets of sheep in the Sahara?”

 

“I doubt it,” said Hal.  “All the wild sheep had been rounded up years ago.  They’d never let a food supply like that go to waste.”

 

“We have to be in the Sahara.”

 

“If they aren’t wild sheep, then that means there would be ranchers around.  Do you see any villages?  Where are they?  We are not in the Sahara.”

 

“What happened to you?” Ron asked out of the blue.

 

“To me?”

 

“You just don’t get it do you?”

 

“Get what?  Tell me, get what?”

 

“Ah, never mind.  You just don’t get it.”

 

“I guess I don’t.  And I guess I don’t get you.”

 

With the sun rising, Hal just walked away from the argument that was about to commence and dumped the contents out of the makeshift backpack.  The tent free for its use as a shelter, he set it up quickly and sought refuge inside.

 

Ron unrolled his sleeping bag on the ground.  “Oh yes you do,” he shouted.  “It just scares the hell out of you doesn’t it?”

 

“It’s you that scares me,” shouted Hal.

 

“Me?”

 

“Yep.”

 

“How do I scare you?”

 

“You know why.  You just don’t want to admit it.”

 

“I don’t….”

 

“Just shut up and get some sleep.”

 

At times Hal just could not understand Ron.  Had he waited up for me?   And if he had waited then why the sudden outburst of anger?  If he was so angry at me, why didn’t he just go on without me?  And as far as his claim of me being scared of him, how does that figure?  "Whatever."

 

*                              *                              *

 

Lightning flashed in the sky.  Thunder roared.  Rain poured down.  Puddles formed all around.

 

Ron woke up and immediately rolled up his sleeping bag and threw it on his sled.  He then walked over to Hal’s tent and unzipped the flap.

 

“What?” mumbled Hal, feeling the thumping on an arm.

 

“Come on, get up.”

 

“Okay already, I’m up, I’m up.”  Still in a fog, Hal crawled out of the tent and was pelted by the drops of rain.  “Wow,” he shouted, “how can it be raining?” Curious as to a lack of a response from Ron, the eyes looked around and spotted him hiking down the hill with the sled sliding down behind him.  “Wait up!”

 

“You can catch up,” Ron hollered back.

 

“Come on, we have to refill the empty water bottles before it stops raining!”

 

Ron did not respond.  He just kept walking down the hill.

 

At the top of his lungs Hal screamed, “Hey genius, you don’t think it’s a good idea to capture some of the rain water and fill up some of the empty bottles?”

 

Ron kept on hiking.

 

“Damn it,” Hal whispered.  After swallowing down a quart of water he set up the other empty bottles and figured out a way to make a large enough funnels to capture just enough remnants of the heavy downpour. While the bottles filled, the stakes of the tent were ripped from the ground and the makeshift backpack assembled.

 

Hal was so puzzled how his friend’s anger overcame the common sense of the situation.  Why he refused to yield to an unexpected source of desperately needed water went far beyond his reasoning ability.  Whatever the cause, he could think of no legitimate reason for Ron to act in the manner he had.

 

Hal raced after and quickly caught up to Ron.  “Is this about getting on your case about the complaints at the park?”

 

Ron did not respond.

 

“If it is, don’t be pissed off at me.  I told you over and over again that what you were doing would lead to complaints.”

 

“Yes you did.”

 

“You knew the Governor would’ve closed down the park if anyone would’ve actually got hurt.”

 

“Of course he would.  But did anyone ever get hurt?”

 

“That’s not the point.  The point is he never liked what you were doing.  Look at how many complaints it led to.”

 

“You noticed the increase in the walk-up gate receipts,” countered Ron.

 

“You gotta be kidding.  You actually think that was an increase?  You might’ve fooled them, but you weren’t fooling me.  Really, using your own money to inflate the figures.”

 

“I did no such thing.”

 

“So you’re telling me the revenue figures were accurate?”

 

“You only dragged your lazy self in for two days a week.  How would you know what ever happened?  All you did was sit up in the nest and dealt with the monthly reports.”

 

“You really have lost touch with reality haven’t you,” said Hal.

 

“Reality?  I’ll give you reality—the figures are real.”  Ron laughed.  “Since every visitor believed the so-called crazed and caged up animals were going to attack them, I thought I’d screw with their heads by warning them that when walking the ground path they’d be doing so at their own risk.  It ended up bringing in business.”

 

“But the complaints?  How do you explain the complaints?”

 

“Look, for some reason,” continued Ron, “they’d ignore the warning and walk the path.  Don’t you think it was their own curiosity that made them do that?  They wanted to find out for themselves what was down there.  Then, as always, a caiman would either come out of the water to sunbathe or a snake would slither its way along the water’s edge and scare the hell out of them.  But for some reason a lot of them didn’t go running away screaming.  They just continued down the path and all through any of the park’s open pathways.

 

“Then, they must’ve told their family and friends about it because the next thing I know the weekend attendance starts to climb.  That’s the reality you can’t seem to grasp.  In fact, your mind is like the pathways up to the emergent tier in the park—all blocked off.”

 

“But that still doesn’t explain the complaints.”

 

“Wow, I can’t believe you just don’t get it.  The only complaints were from the brain dead teachers—not the students.  I guarantee you Hal, the complaints were made up.  I truly believe it was by the urging of the Board of Realtors.”

 

“So, what have you been doing with your money?”

 

“That’s none of your business.”

 

“Do you have it tucked in your shoes?  Under a mattress?  That is if you had a bed to sleep on.”

 

“You see, you’ve changed.  You want the park closed down so badly that you just don’t see what’s been going on?”

 

“If you would’ve worked with me things might’ve turned out differently,” said Hal as they walked across a river bed rising fast with water.

 

“Work with you?  I don’t think so—you’re nothing but a coward.”

 

“Oh, you’re the one to talk.  It wasn't me hiding out like a scared little child,” said Hal walking up the next hill.  “You treated the park like your own private world.”

 

“But you’re the one that sold out.”

 

“Damn it, what the hell is wrong with you?  I’m not the enemy.  I’ve faced the world.  I’m the one that met with the Governor and the maintenance crew.  I’ve done nothing but defend and protect you.”

 

“You just don’t get it.”

 

Hal grabbed Ron by the shoulder, turned him around.  “Get what?  Tell me please, in plain ordinary language. Tell me face to face.  Tell me without the stinkin’ attitude, get what?”

 

“Oh my, I’m so scared.  You aren’t actually going to try and hurt me are you?”

 

Hal looked at that face filled with hatred and felt the tension tighten in every muscle in his body.  A hand closed and clenched tightly to form a fist.  He smiled.  “Of course I’d never hit you Ron.”

 

The clenched fist was thrown forward.  It smacked Ron square in the jaw.

 

Ron fell to the ground and spat out blood.  “Well, you got some life in you after all.”

 

“Come on; get up,” yelled Hal.

 

“The last time you did anything like this was in the fifth grade.  Let’s see, was it because I called you 'fatty,' just like you are now?”

 

“Get up,” shouted Hal.

 

“Let’s see,” said Ron as he staggered to his feet, “you got in one good punch before I got up and made you cry like a baby.”

 

“Well, come to baby.”

 

Ron lunged at Hal as if to wrestle him to the ground.

 

Hal shuffled out of the way and landed a shot on the back of Ron’s head sending him sprawling onto the ground.

 

“Ouch,” laughed Ron.  He got up on his knees.  “I can’t believe it—you’re actually acting upon what you’re feeling.”

 

“Forgot how to fight Ron?”

 

Ron laughed hysterically.  “I’m not the man I used to be, but neither are you.”

 

Hal yearned to kick him in the teeth, but the urge to do so was squelched at the sight of the blood dribbling out of the corner of the mouth.  Suddenly he saw a face wracked with pain.  Ron doubled over, clutched his stomach, and began to groan.

 

Hal rushed in and fell to his knees.  “What’s wrong?”

 

“In my shirt pocket.”

 

Hal confused, reached in and pulled out a small unmarked bottle of liquid.  “What is this stuff?”

 

“Just medication.”

 

He looked to Ron’s face after he swallowed some of the liquid down.  Instantly, the painful expression went away.  Ron sat up.  His eyes were watery as if caused from what could only have been excruciating pain.

 

Hal took a whiff of the concoction, “Phew!  What is this stuff for?”

 

“It’s not important.”

 

“Like hell it isn’t.”

 

“Just forget about it.”

 

“Forget about it…just tell me.”

 

“You broke our pact you know.”

 

Hal knew in an instant the source of rage.  He had never realized it had been brewing for so long, just waiting for it to rear up and make itself known.  But at the same time, Hal felt his friend’s passions