The Shadow Year Read Online Free Page B

I said.
    â€œWe’ll just have everyone in town flush at the same time, and he’ll ride the wave out into the sump behind the baseball field,” said Jim.
    Every few minutes one of us would lean into the pipe and yell to Franky, and he would yell back. Pretty soon we couldn’t make out what he was saying, and his voice got smaller and smaller. Then we called a few more times and there was no answer.
    â€œWhat do you think happened to him?” I asked.
    â€œMaybe the pervert got him,” said Jim, and he looked worried. “He could be stuck in there.”
    â€œShould I run home and get Pop?” I asked.
    â€œNo,” said Jim. “Go up to that manhole cover on the bike path by the playground and call down through the little hole. Then put your ear over the hole and see if you hear him. Tell him to come back.”
    I took off running up the side of Sewer Pipe Hill and across the field as fast as I could. Reaching the manhole cover, I got on all fours and leaned my mouth down to the neat round hole at its edge. “Hey!” I yelled. I turned my head and put my ear to the hole.
    Franky’s voice came up to me quite clearly but with a metallic ring to it, as if he were a robot.
    â€œWhat?” he said. “I’m here.” It sounded as if he were right beneath me.
    â€œCome out,” I called. “Jim says to come back.”
    â€œI like it in here,” he said.
    In that moment I pictured his house; his sister, Lily, with her crossed eyes; his mother’s prominent jaw and horse teeth, her crazy red hair; the little figures his father fashioned out of the wax from his enormous ears. “You gotta come back,” I said.
    A half minute passed in silence, and I thought maybe he had moved on, continuing through the darkness.
    Finally his voice sounded. “Okay,” he said, and then, “Hey, I found something.”
    Jim was sitting on the lip of the sewer pipe reading a magazine, while George sat at his feet staring up at him. As I eased down the side of the hill, he said, “Look what George tracked down by that fallen tree.” He pointed into the woods. “There were some crushed beer cans and cigarette butts over there.”
    I came up next to him and looked over his shoulder at the magazine. It was wrinkled from having been rained on, andthere was mud splattered on the cover. He turned the page he was looking at toward me, and I saw a woman with red hair, black stockings, high-heeled shoes, a top hat, and an open jacket but nothing else.
    â€œLook at the size of those tits,” said Jim.
    â€œShe’s naked,” I whispered.
    Jim picked the magazine up to his mouth, positioning it right in the middle of her spread-out legs, where the little hedge of red hair grew over her pussy, and yelled, “Hellooooooo!”
    We laughed.
    I forgot to tell Jim that I’d made contact with Franky. Instead we moved on to the centerfold. Three full pages of a giant blonde bending over a piano bench.
    â€œAye-aye, Captain,” said Jim, and rapidly saluted her ass four times. Then we flipped the pages quickly to the next naked woman, only to stare and swoon.
    As I reached down to pet the dog for his discovery, we heard Franky inside the pipe. Jim got up and turned around, and we both stared into the opening. Slowly the soles of his shoes appeared out of the dark, and then his rear end, as he backed out into daylight. When he stood up and turned to face us, he was smiling.
    â€œWhat’s your report?” asked Jim.
    â€œIt was nice and quiet in there,” said Franky.
    Jim shook his head. “Anything else?”
    Franky held out his hand and showed Jim what he’d found. It was a green plastic soldier, carrying a machine gun in one hand and a grenade in the other. I moved closer to see the detail and noticed that the figure wore no helmet, which was unusual for an army man. He wore cartridge belts over each shoulder, and his