"Refrigerator Days" by JeanCroix

They had first spotted the old abandoned refrigerator while they were
out exploring the countryside, as they often did. It was nestled in a
small copse of trees, lying on its side, in the middle of a large field.
Its white finish made it stand out against the surrounding greenery,
despite the rust spots that dappled it. It was something different,
something new to explore, and the two boys slowly made their way through
several low thickets to reach it.

David was the first to reach the shade of the trees. He circled around
the white metal bulk, examining it from all sides. It had been here
for quite a while, he guessed. The Kelvinator nameplate was all pitted
and gray from oxidation. Andy caught up momentarily, and stood looking
at the latched door.

"What do you think is in it?" he asked.

"I hear that little kids sometimes get trapped and die in these things.
Maybe there's a dead body," David replied in a voice meant to sound a
little scary. At twelve, he was only six months Andy's senior, but at
that age, it seemed like quite a difference indeed.

"Ugh. Then it might be all rotting and smelly." They quickly decided
that they needed to open it anyway, but would be cautious about it,
in case of a body. Standing as far away from it as possible, David
prodded at the latch with a long stick. Both boys had their t-shirt
collars pulled up over their noses. Nobody wants to smell a dead
body, after all.

With a little prodding, the latch was made to open, and the door
swung open surprisingly smoothly. To their relief and disappointment,
there was no body. Just some rusty shelves, spiderwebs, and a small
box. They moved closer to investigate.

The small cardboard box was red and white, and covered in cellophane.
It said "Marlboro." The boys turned to look at each other, and then
David reached in for the pack. Both boys recognized what they'd found;
they each had relatives who smoked. But they were both too young to
have ever tried it themselves, and knew the intensity of the punishment
they'd receive if they ever did and were caught.

"Wow. A full pack," David mused, somewhat in awe. "I wonder if these
belong to Bill Hopewell and his gang. Maybe they hang out here
sometimes..." His voice wavered a bit at the mention of the town's
most vicious bully.

Andy started to look around worriedly, but tried to act reassuring
anyway. "No, he lives miles from here. Why would he want to come out
so far just to hang out? I think they belong to other kids. Or
maybe a farmer."

Returning to the issue at hand, Andy turned back to David, and
in a serious tone inquired, "Are you gonna try one?" Because if
David did, he sure would.

"Naw, if those guys come back or find out it was us who took 'em,
our asses would be grass. Let's leave 'em here for now."

 - - - 

The pack was still there the next day, untouched. There was no
sign that anyone else had visited the spot in the meantime, so it
was solemnly decided that the pack was theirs. Sitting on top of
the refrigerator, they unwrapped the cigarettes and lit a couple,
using the matches that David had brought from the top shelf in
the kitchen cupboard.

There was much coughing and eye-watering, but each of the
two boys managed to smoke three of the forbidden Marlboros in
as many hours. As the afternoon sun started to sink lower, it
was time to head home for dinner. Not wanting to possibly get caught
with their newfound treasure, the pack was left in the refrigerator
again as they treaded the dusty overgrown paths toward home.

 - - - 

The next morning, amidst hushed tones, the two met at Andy's house,
where they filled a knapsack with some bottles of juice, sandwiches,
and a new book of matches. It was early, and there was still traces
of fog in the air as they made their way to their new hangout.

Upon opening the refrigerator, the pack of Marlboros was gone. But
in its place was a thick, shiny magazine with a barely-dressed
woman on the cover. They leaned in to get a closer look-- it was
a Playboy, the July issue. It looked untouched.

They immediately stepped back and began scanning the surrounding
countryside. Someone had been here since the previous evening, and
had discovered the missing cigarettes. If that somebody was still
around, they sure didn't want to get caught. Not seeing any obvious
indications that they were being observed, they bounded off down a
trail, moving as fast as they could while trying to keep their motion
quiet. If it really was Bill Hopewell whose cigarettes they'd swiped,
they sure didn't want to meet him face-to-face so soon after the fact.

After five minutes of sprinting through fields and thicket, they
stopped at another tree line to catch their breath. From their new
location, they could still see across a field to the group of trees that
hid the refrigerator. Andy pulled off the knapsack and sat against
a tree trunk, opening a bottle of apple juice. David remained standing
to look back, making sure there was no pursuit.

"Well, it doesn't look like anyone saw us," David puffed. "Maybe they
only hang out there at night."

"Maybe. Think they'll be back today?" There was hope in Andy's voice.
Hope that David thought it would eventually be safe to head back over
and look through that Playboy.

"I dunno. We could hang around here to watch. If nobody comes around
for a while, we could probably go back and grab it."

So, the plan was set. Noon came and went, and their fear of being
caught gradually faded as their imaginations gave them fanciful images
of just what might be shown in that magazine. By two o'clock, they'd
convinced themselves that the refrigerator's other mysterious
visitors only came around at night. They casually walked back to
the shady grove and retrieved their new treasure.

The remainder of the afternoon was spent poring over the pages of
the Playboy. They mostly stared wide-eyed at the photo shoots, but
also spent some time laughing themselves silly over the jokes page
and some of the cartoons-- at least the ones they understood.

When it was time to get going home for dinner, David stuffed the
magazine into the bottom of the knapsack. "We don't wanna let this
one get away, like with the cigarettes."

Andy slowly nodded his head in agreement, but his worry was
apparent in his eyes. He sure didn't want Hopewell, or whomever, to
come looking for him. But at the same time, he seriously doubted
that's who'd been putting the stuff in the refrigerator.

"I wonder just who this stuff belongs to..." he mused to David
as they shuffled along the paths toward their houses. "I mean,
if we keep taking stuff, they're gonna get wise and not keep
anything there anymore."

"Yeah, I thought of that too. Maybe we should find out who they are."

"How?"

"Think your mom will let you camp out tomorrow night?"

 - - -

They showed up lugging a heavy Army surplus canvas puptent, as well as
their knapsacks and sleeping bags. Not that they planned on sleeping,
but their parents had to think so. No, this was a stakeout, and they
planned on being up all night to catch a glimpse of their contraband
providers.

Before doing anything, they dumped their equipment on the ground and
ran to the refrigerator. Opening it quickly, they were confronted
with a reddish, papery brick. There was a gaudy paper label on it,
which read, "Shanghai Snappers! 144 count."

Firecrackers! This was almost too good to be true. Andy rummaged
through his knapsack for the matches, and they were off and running
down the trail with their latest prize in hand.

The two spent most of the day at a small pond not too far from
the refrigerator grove, floating sticks onto the water and tossing
the firecrackers at them. To their disappointment, they ran out of
matches long before the Shanghai Snappers were gone. But at least
that left them with more for the next day.

 - - - 

The tent was set up in a small clearing they'd made a couple dozen
feet from the refrigerator. It was away from the trails, so they
wouldn't be spotted, but still afforded a good enough view of the
trees. They sat in darkness, whispering to each other their 
theories on just who would show up and turn out to be their mysterious
benefactor.

David and Andy sat on the ground in front of the tent. The moonlight
was dim, and it was difficult to see very far into the night. Any
approaching flashlights would be readily apparent. They waited, and
watched.

 - - - 

"Well, whoever it was, I guess they decided not to show up for a
night," Andy concluded. It was about 8:00 AM; the sun had been up for
hours, and there had been not one sign of visitors of any kind to
the refrigerator. The boys had managed to stay awake the entire time,
though one had occasionally had to administer a poke to the other
who'd nodded off momentarily.

Giving a final scan of the surrounding trails, David made his way
through the brush to the site of the ancient refrigerator. He
plopped down on top of it, resting his tired head in his hands.
"Guess we'll have to camp out again sometime," he muttered as
Andy straggled into the trees.

"Yeah, and that means they didn't leave anything, either. At
least we still have a lot of firecrackers from yesterday. We need
to head back home and grab more matches."

David still sat unspeaking, blearily staring off into the fields.
Awaiting a reply to his suggestion, Andy kicked about the small
clearing, and decided to examine the refrigerator for clues to
their mystery. He opened the latch, and stared inside blankly.

"Dave, check this out," he almost whispered.

David, seeming slightly annoyed, abandoned his perch and looked
for himself. His face quickly mirrored Andy's in expression.

On the marred metal surface sat six green bottles in a green cardboard
holder, with the announcement "Heineken" printed on it. David
slowly reached his hand toward the newest object, and plucked a
bottle from its companions. It was very cold.

"But, nobody was here! We watched all night!" Andy protested with a
slight quiver in his voice.

"They're still cold. They haven't been here very long." David had
a slightly dazed look in his eyes. He momentarily snapped out of it
and grabbed the rest of the six-pack, replacing the bottle into
the holder.

"This is too weird. We gotta get out of here!" Andy looked ready
to bolt. And he did. David, with the beer in hand, casually walked
in the direction his friend had fled.

 - - -

It took three days for David to convince Andy to even discuss going back
to the site of the miraculous refrigerator. Long hours of wheedling
about firecrackers, smokes, and naked pictures finally won out
over Andy's fear of the mysterious "powers" that had been supplying
them with these treasures.

It was still before noon as the two hiked down the familiar trails,
one of them more visibly nervous than the other. As they approached
their old haunt, David stopped suddenly and ducked to the ground.
He yanked on Andy's pant leg, motioning for him to follow suit.

"Shh!" David whispered, "There's voices up ahead. Let's get closer."

They crept slowly but quietly through the underbrush until they
were within hearing range. There was on old brown pickup truck parked
close to the copse of trees, and a couple of scruffy-looking men
were walking from it toward the refrigerator. Their voices could be
heard from the boys' position.

"Looks like we got another one over in them trees. I'll back the
truck over, and you go get the door off," the taller man said.

The boys' hearts sank as they immediately forgot any misgivings
they had about the nature of their mysterious benefactor. What
a treasure to lose. They hadn't even had the chance to check it
for the day's bounty!

The shorter man strode over to the aging white monolith and pulled
the door open.

He paused for a second, as if not comprehending what he saw. Then
he turned and gave a solemn shout back to the truck.

"Hank, I think you best get the Sheriff on the radio! There's a
coupla' brand-spankin' new .357's in this fridge, and it looks
like they're still loaded!"

- - -
Copyright 1998 by JeanCroix (gruzlj@rpi.edu)