UNMASKED

 

 

            Oliver had been cooped up for five months, since the fight. The first three were spent recovering, and the following two were spent sneaking around on the sly to see Twink without getting caught. He was restless. The upcoming Halloween party at the Volusia church seemed the perfect excuse to get out and be with people again.

            Worriedly, Mrs. Hutto demanded, "Ain't it dangerous, bein' out in public?"

            "Now, Ma. Likely they'll not even come." He didn't need to define "they."

            "But iffen you're wrong...?!"

            He feigned joviality. "Well, that's why I'm wearin' this here mask. Nobody'll know me." He held it up for her to see. It was a black hood with a white grinning skull painted on the front, and eye-holes cut. It would completely cover his head, concealing his trademark blond hair.

            She was only faintly assured. "Jest don't you leave that there death-mask come true."

 

            Oliver was wrong. The Forresters came. They, too, were in costume, but unlike Oliver, were still quite recognizable. The five bearded ones had capitalized on their long black beards and their general roughness, and had dressed like pirates. Some wore black eye-patches, and others added three-cornered hats adorned with jolly-Rogers, and  some had even strapped swords to their belts. Their raucous laughter was right in tune with the image that they presented. Lem, as usual, was different. Shunning the pirate-look, perhaps because the sea-reference evoked Oliver, however obliquely, he came costumed as an executioner, bare-chested and hatchet-carrying. If that persona was meant as a threat to the townsfolk, or to an Oliver who might be foolish enough to attend, the warning wasn't missed. Everyone, including the thoroughly-masked Oliver, gave that Forrester a wide berth.

            Square-dancing was the norm. Pirates and mummies and ghosts induced giggling princesses and fairies and witches to dance.

            Meaning only to observe from the sidelines, Oliver was suddenly seized by a rough, powerful hand on his wrist. Behind his mask, he gulped as he stared up into the face of a very familiar pirate. It was Buck, one of his tormentors.

            "Come on, we need more fellers. I cain't dance with two partners here." So saying, Buck shoved a fairy at him.

            Heart-pounding, Oliver obediently, silently, took her hands and cooperated.

            As the dance went on, and he gradually progressed from partner to partner, he calmed somewhat. Clearly, he had not been recognized, and it was frankly interesting to spy on the Forresters unobserved. He could even stare unnoticed at Lem, who stood brooding on the sidelines, looking for all the world like he'd like to make use of that hatchet by his side.

            Presently, the musicians called for a break. Oliver's heart-rate rose again, because now he was standing uncomfortably close to way too many pirates, and other assorted horrors who enjoyed the pirates' company. Bottles were going around, hunting tales were being told, and booming laughter was all around him. Oliver was right in the thick of things.

            Suddenly, a pirate nudged Oliver none-too-gently and demanded to know if he'd done much hunting. Oliver looked into his eyes. It was Mill-wheel, another of his tormentors.

            Heartbeat soaring sky-high, Oliver pitched his voice higher than normal, which wasn't hard to do, given his fear-level, because he was afraid that his normal voice would be recognized. "I've done a leetle." Darn little. He'd tried it a time or two. It just wasn't his profession. But it was normal in these parts, and he couldn't very well admit to being a sailor.

            Mill-wheel urged him on, "Tell it."

            Buck and the other bearded Forresters encouraged him enthusiastically.

            Oliver's mind raced to some exotic tales that he'd picked up from other sailors who had hunted more than he had, or had known those who had. Their spicy, unfamiliar tales, coupled with Oliver's natural storytelling ability, soon had the Forresters enthralled. Still, Oliver remained terrified throughout, frightened that his vocal pitch would slip and give him away, and fearful that some element of his tale would seem a little too foreign, and reveal its exotic origin. Somehow, though, he got through it, keeping them enchanted throughout the telling.

            Not wanting to press his luck, however, after his tale was done and their attention moved off of him, and as soon as he reasonably could do so, Oliver extricated himself from their gathering, and proceeded as surreptitiously as possible to the church door.

            It was only when he'd exited through it that he realized that he hadn't emerged alone. Buck and Mill-wheel had followed him. Oliver started abruptly, but Buck clapped him on the back and smiled.

            "Right good tale you told, stranger. How 'bout huntin' with us sometime?"

            Oliver stared, barely suppressing panic. "I...I cain't."

            Buck's smile faded. "Why not? We've enjoyed your comp'ny all evenin'."

            Oliver squirmed, and looked from Buck's open consternation to Mill-wheel's beginning frown of puzzlement.

            Mill-wheel said, "We done thought we'd made a new friend."

            Oliver's heart sank. Friend! Impulsively, taking a big risk, he yanked off his hood.

            Automatically, Mill-wheel surged toward him. "Oliver!"

            The blond raised hands to ward him off, saying, "Please don't!"

            Mill-wheel stopped himself. "I wa'n't gonna. I was jest startled."

            Buck shook his head and smiled wanly. "You got guts."

            Not really agreeing with him, Oliver shrugged. "I got tired o' hidin'."

            Mill-wheel laughed. "You picked an extreme way to stop."

            "I reckon."

            Buck's eyes narrowed. "Let me guess. That there huntin' tale wa'n't yourn."

            "No," he confessed.

            "Penny's?" Buck guessed.

            "No. I wouldn'ta dared. You mighta heered it afore."

            "Then whose?" prompted Mill-wheel.

            "Jest...a sailor-friend you'd not know."

            Suddenly, Buck laughed aloud. "I jest realized! Our costumes musta give you quite a turn!"

            Oliver smiled faintly and nodded. "A ship I was on got fired at and boarded once."

            Mill-wheel's eyes twinkled. "Did they look like us?"

            "Quite a bit." Oliver groaned at the memory. Then, he smiled ruefully. "Lem's costume done me a turn, too!"

            "I'm sure!" Buck said.

            "I'll bet!" Mill-wheel said.

            As if that reminded him, as if he needed reminding, Oliver said grimly, "I better go."

            His two companions sobered.

            "You better," Buck agreed.

            "Damn shame," Mill-wheel remarked.

            Oliver gave them a wistful smile. "'Bye."

            "Goodbye, Oliver."