Offspring by Jack Ketchum Read Free Book Online Page A

Sometimes it helps a boy to feel he’s useful. ‘Specially a boy with trouble.”
    “Trouble?”
    He hadn’t told Campbell a thing about Luke, or for that matter about Claire and Steven. Only that Luke was his godson and that he and Claire would be staying awhile.
    “I’ve raised two boys and a girl myself, and I’ve built a lot of houses for a lot of people. Things come out in people when they’re building houses. Things you sometimes don’t really want to see. Stress, I guess you’d say. There’s a lot of money involved, of course. House is a big investment. There’s a lot of decisions that look small, but aren’t. Not at the time. Hell, they’re crucial. I’m not saying I’ve seen it all by now, but I did see a pretty good fella kick his dog one time just because his windows hadn’t arrived the day we were ready to set ’em. Kids get trouble too. You see it sometimes.”
    It was the most he’d ever heard Campbell say on a subject. Any subject.
    Campbell pulled on the Pall Mall and pointed to the deck above.
    “We’ll do this here in tongue-and-groove quarter-sawn fir,” he said. “Soon as we finish the addition. You’ll see. It’ll look real nice.”
    Luke came to the edge of the clearing and put up the binoculars. The woods sprang into focus. Suddenly deep.
    He wondered if it was okay to go in, if there were any bears in there. He wondered if bears could climb trees or if he just had to look for them along the ground.
    Well, he was going in. He was an explorer, a scout looking for Indians or bear and he was going in.
    He wouldn’t go far.
    The woods were cooler, damper. He liked the feel of the air in there, on his face and bare arms. He liked the green smell. He was glad he wasn’t wearing shorts because in places the brush was thick and he had to plow through. He knew enough to watch for stickers and go around them. Sometimes if the brush wasn’t
too
thick he’d jump right in and then crash through like you’d do if a bear were chasing you fast as a car. Then he’d come to a bunch of trees and slow down and there would be only the soft brown needles crackling under his Reeboks.
    He was in a place like that now.
    He was standing on a hill in a grove of pine trees and it was shady all around.
    He raised the binoculars. He scouted the ground as far as he could see for Indians creeping through the brush below.
    This was
fun
.
    This was
scary
.
    Partly it was scary because the game was scary, because Indians and bears were naturally scary, and partly it was the woods, because the woods was a wild place, a place he’d never been to before—and he
was
an explorer in a way. That part was real.
    Something moved in the brush to his left; he heard the rustle, but by the time he turned and focused it was gone.
    There were birds above him; he could hear them calling each other. He decided to try to find a nest. He was an explorer and he was starving in the wilderness and he needed the birds’ eggs to keep him from dying.
    Starving, he trudged forward to the very top of the hill.
    Exhausted, he raised the binoculars. He scanned the trees.
    He saw the platform immediately.
    It was lodged between the branches of an oak tree the next hill over. The hill was a little bit higher than this one. He’d be able to see everything all around.
    He forgot about starvation.
    He ran down the hill until the ground turned mossy beneath him, slippery. Then he walked. He avoided a patch of stickers. The uphill climb was rocky and not too steep so his footing was good.
    And there it was.
    The treehouse was old—he didn’t know how old but the wood was gray, weathered like David’s porch. He wondered if it was safe. It was pretty high up. Maybe five times bigger than he was.
    Scary
.
    He didn’t want to fall.
    The steps nailed to the tree trunk looked okay, though. The wood was thick and each step had two big nails hammered into it and none of the boards were cracked that he could see.
    He’d start with the steps