Free The Vivisectionist by Ike Hamill

between tents and trailers. Ben and Jack strained to see what he was pointing at—it was incredibly dark behind these structures. Out in the midway their way had been partially lit by all the people holding up their cell phones and keychain flashlights.
    Carefully picking their way, they were getting nowhere. A flashlight clicked on behind them and threw their shadows ahead of them.
    “What are you boys doing there?” demanded a throaty voice from behind Jack.
    “Run!” yelled Stephen and he attempted to dart off to his right. Ben and Jack plunged behind him when Ben suddenly stopped.
    “We passed him,” hissed Ben. Jack looked back to see that Stephen had tripped and was tangled in the ropes of a tent. Soon they could see every detail as the man with the flashlight caught up with Stephen and hauled him to his feet.
    “C’mon kids, game’s over,” said the man. “Warren?” he called over his shoulder. “Get over here.”
    The man had a firm hold of Stephen’s shirt and pulled Stephen to a small courtyard between a food wagon and the Bingo tent.
    A voice sounded from inside the Bingo tent. “What you need?”
    Stephen’s captor replied—“I caught a kid sneaking around,” he directed his next comment at Jack and Ben. “You two come over here and things might go easier on your friend here.”
    “Okay,” said Jack and he started walking towards the man holding Stephen.
    Mouth open, Ben watched his friend close the distance to sure doom. Ben thought that if he could get away, he could go find help. He was becoming certain that the man holding Stephen and soon-to-be-holding Jack should not be considered trustworthy. The man was tall and skinny and his bare arms looked like they could hold back an elephant if need be. Ben was sure of one thing—he didn’t want to submit to this man in any way.
    Ben was just getting his nerve to run when Jack came to within arm’s length of the man. As the man’s sinewy arm looped down to scoop him up, Jack ducked and lunged forward. The man had no way to block Jack, with a handful of Stephen taking away one of his hands. Unencumbered, Jack drove a hard uppercut to the skinny man’s crotch.
    “Go!” Jack yelled at Stephen as the man dropped his shirt. Stephen ran to the right as Jack tried to escape left. The man, now doubled over, managed to trip Jack up, but with flailing legs Jack stayed upright and kept moving. Ben was the last to bolt, watching the whole scene as if it were happening on television.
    The boys went their separate ways, but instinctively made their way back to where Jack’s dad had parked. Arriving simultaneously, Jack and Ben high-fived to celebrate their safety.
    “Oh man, where’s Stephen?” asked Jack.
    “Right here,” Stephen called from around the other side of the car. The joy Stephen felt was transparent in his step—he fairly glided around the car.
    “Guess what I got?” boasted Stephen, holding up a glow-in-the-dark frisbee.
    “Good job—you risk all our necks for a stupid toy?” said Ben.
    “Relax—everything is under control, isn’t it?” said Stephen.
    “As long as you don’t mind ruining the fair for thousands of people,” said Ben. “They’re all going home.”
    As if on cue, the lights around the midway came back on at that instant.
    Stephen laughed—“See? No harm done,” Stephen turned to Jack. “Jack, man, you’re the best—thanks for saving my ass.”
    “No problem,” Jack replied. “You would have done it for me.”
    “No way!” exclaimed Stephen. “These hands do not touch dudes down there.”
    With the tension broken by Stephen’s joke, the boys laughed for several minutes. They recounted their exploits to each other, exaggerating their roles.
    Jack finally put a stop to their reminiscence—“Hey! It’s nine, the fireworks!”
    With that, the three jogged off to the hill beyond the football field. Earlier in the day they had debated the optimal viewing location and decided on this hill. Their