Free Indivisible (Overlooked by Liberty) by Blair Smith Page A

himself.  "When the Feds arrived in the copter and were checking out the scene, a Black guy looked right into our hiding spot, but for some reason he didn't tell on us.  Then after they flew off, we jumped out of the dirt and started making a stretcher for Barry.  They patched him up, ya know, but then left him there to die."
           "I know."  Helen knew Butch exaggerated about Mr. Ronolou taking twelve bullets, but she wanted to hear more.
           "Thad was the last person Barry talked to."  The glow of the fire flickered across the boy's face as he spun his tale--his narration compelling.  "Barry told Thad he loved ya."
           The phrase jerked tears from Helen's eyes.  She winced and looked to Thad who nodded.  "Butch Rousell, you'd better not be feeding me another cock-and-bull story!"
           "No, Ma'am.  Cross my heart and hope to die.  Honest to God.  Right, Thad?"  Thad bobbed his head earnestly.  "Anyway, that was the last time my brother said anything.  I think he's got the ghost."
           "The ghost?" Helen knew he was making things up now.  They looked at Thad sitting across the fire.
           "The ghost," Butch confirmed.  "Like on the old Star Trek movie where Spock transferred his soul into Doctor McCoy.  I think they're sharing the same body."  Butch was careful not to word this part of the story as fact.  He didn't want to offend.
           "Well, how big is your Ghost Pack?"  Helen jumped back to a less sensitive topic.  Tater rested by the warm rocks surrounding the fire.  The heat converted their damp, dreary surroundings into a cozy cocoon, forcing the cold to retreat out the very gaps it had entered.  It was a camp-out, the dark cedar timbers replaced a black forest; the blazing fire leaped and snapped.
           "You want to join?"
           "What?"  The boy's question startled Helen out of a daze.
           "The Ghost Pack?  Ya know, be a member?" asked Butch.
           She shrugged, "What do I have to do?"
           "You already did the first part.  You heard the story about the massacre at Dixville Notch.  Next, you have to cut your thumb."  Helen cringed.  Butch unloaded his jacket pockets looking for his pocketknife.  A small, 22 revolver was among the items that came out.
           "Is that thing real?" asked Helen.
           "Oh, you bet.  Borrowed it from my Uncle."  He opened the knife and slipped the blade in the fire.  "This kills all the germs, ya know."
           Helen rolled her eyes at the dramatic presentation.  She knew that if she went along with this thing, she'd have to give the cut a heavy dose of antiseptic.  But her attention was drawn back to the gun.  "Is that thing loaded?"
           "A gun is no good unless it's loaded.  You can't shoot an empty gun."
           "Let me have it."
           "I can't do that, it's my Uncle's."
           Butch pulled the knife out of the flame and waved it through the air to cool it, then wiped the soot from the blade with a filthy hanky he pulled from his back pocket.  Helen shook her head, So much for cleanliness , she thought.  "Now Butch, don't you cut me much."
           "Trust me.  Just enough to bleed."  He held her thumb and sliced her.
           "You cut me deep!"  She put it in her gown.  "I trusted you!"
           "It's got to make a scar."
           "Now give me the gun!"
           "I can't, it's my Uncle's.
           "You have to.  I'm your new Akela."  The name Akela, means "a good leader," a word taken from the Jungle Book .  The title is introduced in early Cub Scouts and carries through Boy Scouts.  Respecting authority is a main facet of Scouting. 
           So Butch knew what that meant.  He could officially become a Scout again--eventually an Eagle.  He handed over the weapon.  "There's sixteen of us in all.  Every time I tell about the Dixville Massacre I get a