Mystery in the Mist novel (Chap. 1)

A Father-Son Fantasy Adventure

 

MYSTERY IN THE MIST

 

Copyright © 2014-2021 by Esther and Richard Provencher

 

CHAPTER ONE

 

Troy zeroed in from the third floor attic window. Eyes like laser beams. He grumbled something under his breath, then turned to his right, “Didja see that, JC?”

            Troy watched a snow-covered car move slowly through the campground entrance, several hundred feet away. Slush sprayed against the tires as it made a turn and entered their long driveway.

            The boy could see everything from his special lookout. He imitated an eagle on a perch, observing, analyzing and right now more than a little upset. Dad told him he needed a private space for himself. So this room was the perfect spot for an eleven-year old boy.

“Keeps you out of my hair too,” his father said.

It was also a good place for Troy to hide. He could fume and fuss without bothering Dad. The boy didn’t like to share his feelings, especially if Dad was drinking, like now.

Why shouldn’t he be upset? Dad promised to take him fishing. He had the perfect excuse not to. The weather was the pits, again.

However, JC should thank his lucky stars Troy allowed him to share his privacy. He was the only one who really understood Troy.

            The car crawled across the mushy driveway, picking its way through the fog. “Hurry up so I can find out who you are,” Troy muttered under his breath. It couldn’t be anyone for him since he never had any visitors.

Well, not often anyways.

The vehicle looked like a toy from his miniature car collection. Or, a pirate ship disappearing and reappearing, drifting in and out of fog. Troy enjoyed watching old movies of galleons at sea.

Dad said he might even be a descendent of Noriz who fought for the British against the Spanish Armada. Interesting, Troy thought at the time.

Waves of sleet came as ocean waves. They brushed across the vehicle and smacked noisily into Troy’s house. The car left skidding footprints in its journey through the accumulating snow.

Troy couldn’t really see what color the car was.

“Green, I think,” JC mumbled.

“If it is green,” Troy snorted, “it might be a good sign the weather is finally going to change.” Green was his favourite colour. It meant campers and sunshine, and being warm.

Right now the freaky April weather was a traitor. Summer was soon going to be here. At least, that’s what it said on the calendar.

            "I still say it’s green," said JC. Actually, JC was a figment of Troy’s overactive imagination. Dad got upset whenever he heard Troy speaking as if someone was standing right beside him.

“Stop talking to yourself,” dad often scolded. “It unnerves me.”

“What’s wrong if I make up a friend?” Troy asked at the time. “I’m not comfortable inviting anyone here.” Troy knew Dad was also embarrassed about the untidy house and empty beer bottles. He still had problems to work out.

Troy understood why the drinking had become worse.

He shoved back his blond hair. He wasn’t tall like others his age. Besides, his elbows were pointy. At least that’s what the kids at school said, during gym.

Thoughts drifted back to this morning’s weather disturbance. “Come on, where is that sun?” he said through gritted teeth. Sleet continued to pound against the windowpanes. Troy had the urge to begin chewing his thumbnail, instead slapped hands against his hips in exasperation. 

            Tall entrance posts leading to the campground could barely be seen. The pair stood at attention as soldiers.

            “Remember last week, JC? When we helped Dad put on a couple coats of brown stain? Sure made some mess, didn't we?”

            "Yup," JC answered through Troy’s thoughts.

            “Why did this weird storm have to come along like some mean monster?” Troy wondered. It was enough to make any kid stick his head out the window and scream for a long time. Troy was in that mood right now, big time.

            Growling sounds rumbled from his mouth. He wanted to run outside and kick over every rotten log around their house. It might help erase his feelings of helplessness about the weather ruining his plans.

            JC must feel the same way since he didn’t have much to say.  

            The maple entrance posts were an awesome sight. They also had a large sign stretched between them, introducing everyone to “CAMP NORLAND.” All who came to spend a few weeks of summer at the family campground were impressed.

Troy felt the posts should act more like guards, keeping out strangers. Why weren't they doing their job? No one was supposed to come since the camping season was still a few months away. How did these people find their way here, anyway? 

            Troy peered through binoculars Granddad gave him last Christmas. “Hey, a man is driving and a boy is in the back seat.” Now, why wouldn’t they both be up front? He wondered.

“Maybe the boy was snoozin' in the backseat," JC interrupted.

            “Who cares?” was a statement of irritation showing in Troy’s voice. “Besides, they must be crazy. Who in their right mind would visit anyone in this stinking pile of weather?”

            Shaking his head, “URRRUHH!” was not a friendly sound escaping his lips. It was Troy’s way of warning anyone about his short fuse.

            JC tried a poor imitation. Except his sounded more like, "RRUR."

            Troy scrunched up his face. He tried to spot any familiar feature on the man and boy. “Just concentrate,” he told himself.

It was the advice Mom used to give. “Focus, Troy. Focus.”

Well, he was trying to. Her face swam into view, and his tears began. He swiped at his eyes with the back of his hand. But it wasn't working. “Drats, I hate this snow.”

            "Yup," JC agreed.

            “Oh, be quiet. I'm thinking,” Troy said sarcastically. His eyes traveled like guided missiles to the front seat of the unwelcome car. Troy was curious.

            Closing his eyes, he pretended to be inside the car. Of course, the heater would be turned up full blast. No way would he be freezing in the back seat.

Troy wagged his head back and forth, matching the beat of the windshield wipers. He lost himself in the swaying. It was a nice lazy feeling, almost like flapping wings from a monarch butterfly.

Slap…Slap. Back and forth, slap...slap.

            He actually felt movement inside his head.   

            Troy was good at creating scenes for class assignments. Miss Silver, his grade six teacher, often said “I’m proud of you.”

            Sometimes Miss Silver reminded Troy of his mother.

Troy had few friends at school. His classmates heard about the terrible accident and avoided asking Troy for details. It’s one reason why he changed the subject by talking about his cousin, JC.

Trouble was, they wanted to meet him.

He kept making excuses. How could Troy explain his cousin was make-believe? They might think he was a candidate for the ‘loony bin.’ It really wasn't any of their ‘beeswax’ to know anything.    

            "Still on your case, eh?" JC said inside his head.      

Troy turned back to the window. He was feeling kind of grumpy. He hated it when people made surprise visits. He already had too many in his young life. Things were finally beginning to quiet down.

            And now, watching through his window, strangers had come, upsetting his daily routine. His quiet life was being invaded.

            Were they lost or something?

            He placed his nose tightly against the wet glass. This was just like a puzzle. Troy did not enjoy mysteries or puzzles. Now he was getting squirmy trying to work out a solution to this one.

            At least he knew what kind of car it was. Dad was once a mechanic and taught him a lot. It was a two door, '95 Geo Metro, four-cylinder job, 45 kilometers to the gallon, with front end steering.       

“JC, come here. Quick,” he called.

            "I was resting."

            “Hurry up, tell me,” Troy said.

            "Tell you what?"

            “Who’s in the car? Come on. You're the one who says I should work on puzzles. We can make a little game of it. Are they relatives or...not?”

            The floor groaned as Troy shuffled from one foot to the other, impatiently. In a way JC was more like a brother than a cousin.             

            "I don't know." 

            More thoughts and questions twisted and turned in his mind. First, Dad let him down this morning. It was not pleasant chitchat, since jumping early out of bed.

“DAAAAD! Great day for fishing!” he said about an hour ago. “Remember what you said last night?” When Troy first glanced outside, the weather shook him up. He immediately felt like an apple falling out of a tree.

            “Oh, right. This will be another missed fishing trip,” he said to the wall. “Thank you VERRRY much, Mr. Weatherman.”

            Sleet turned what should have been a beautiful day into a soggy, wet mess.

            He still wanted Dad to take him fishing. No ‘ifs’ and no ‘buts’. When Troy made a promise, he kept it. Well, most time.

            Dad shouldn't have made that promise yesterday, since his word was not reliable these days. ‘Putting-things-off’ seemed to be his new hobby. And the poor weather gave him a perfect excuse to drink some more. Troy was getting tired of cleaning up his messes.

            Putting Dad to bed after he passed out was not exciting either.

            Things were really mixed up ever since Mom was killed in that car accident. It happened about two months ago.