T imothy saw the fall season come to life in the few months, of his first semester, at DeLong University. Loving Green Valley and Indiana was easy. The university, located in the center of a lazy small town, had tradition and the town’s name fit the lush spring and summer vegetation, visible for miles around. This was Indiana.
As the gold, red, and brown leaves floated slowly to the ground, he smelled acrid smoke from piles of burning leaves, raked close to the street curbs. He enjoyed the pageantry of leaves falling from the variety of Green Valley’s trees, and he spent many evening and weekend hours raking them from Delta Rho’s long and wide front lawn. His shoulder was sore from raking and he massaged it. Chuckling, he recalled his pledge brothers’ antics when cleaning the House on Saturday mornings, saw he and Daniel waiting on tables, their bright white waiter’s jackets and tight corduroy trousers.
Timothy was grateful to Delta Rho: the part-time waiter’s job helped pay for his dues in the fraternity he truly loved and enjoyed, he learned that waiters got more food than the other House members, if they wanted more, recalled Mrs.Cantrell blushing when he complimented her on her gravy and her tasty pumpkin and sweet potato pies. He inhaled deeply remembering she always smelled like flour or dough, cinnamon or fresh baked biscuits and sometimes smelled like his grandmother’s kitchen, back home in Woodland, Illinois. Chuckling to himself, he cherished her detailed explanation of the secret to “Baked Alaska,” and wondered why he had never heard of that dessert or the expression.
The sound of the first call for dinner startled him. As he turned from the window, he imagined Daniel ringing the small hand-held silver dinner bell with authority, at the foot of the front stairs. Visions of recollections vanished as he left his room, bounded down the rear stairs, two at a time, and entered the washroom. He didn’t see Daniel, heard and saw hot water running in a sink, grabbed his waiter’s jacket and put it on and heard Mrs. Cantrell’s voice.
“Main course!” Timothy heard. “. . . and while it’s hot!”
Timothy started to button his jacket when Daniel walked briskly through a swinging door. “Remember this pledge. Remember which door is an exit, from the dining room, and which door is entrance to the dining room,” he said, harshly, as he approached Timothy. “Gads, look at your shirt. Geez!” He grabbed Timothy’s belt at the waist, jerked it outward, away from his waist, and roughly pushed his shirt down inside his cords.
“Take it easy, Danny. You got my shirt down far enough,” Timothy replied puzzled by Daniel’s harsh action. He glanced at the two swinging doors and noted that entrance was the door on the right. What’s he talking about? I don’t have any trouble remembering which door is entrance and which is the exit. What’s with Danny?
“We can’t look sloppy, Dex! Derrick doesn’t want us to look sloppy.” He arched his eyebrows, without smiling. Timothy wasn’t convinced Daniel was trying to be helpful. He was rough. Timothy frowned.
Derrick stuck his head into the washroom through the exit door and summoned his waiters to the dining room. Timothy followed Daniel through the entrance swinging door. They walked into the dining room. Mrs. Gaddy stood behind her chair at the head of the center table. She winked at Danny and Timothy. The center table was always reserved for her and her escorts: freshmen, sophomore, junior, and senior members of Delta Rho. They listened and participated in a short prayer and waited for the fraternity to sit for their evening meal. Timothy noted that all chairs had Delta Rho bodies in a them and signaled 'full house’ to Daniel, who acknowledged it.
Daniel and Timothy walked up to the roll-top hand out windows that separated the kitchen from the dining room. Timothy raised the window, received full plates, and started serving at the center tables then to each of his two tables. Daniel and Timothy passed each other during the service. After all plates were on the tables, they refilled the large aluminum water pitchers, poured coffee, and watched the members eat. When the meal progressed satisfactorily, they returned to the pantry and began to wash pots, pans and cooking utensils.
Tim ran into Stan Ferguson as he moved rapidly into the pantry. “Hey, there, Dexie,” Stan said, swinging a gold watch from its chain around his finger.
“Geez, Stan!” Timothy grabbed Stan making sure he didn’t fall. “Sorry, I didn’t see you.”
He walked over to the sinks, placed stoppers in the large basins, and turned on the hot water faucet in one sink and made warm water in the second. He turned as Daniel came through a swinging door and collided with Stan. Timothy laughed and flicked water at them. Stan gave Daniel a disapproving scowl and Daniel told him to go away.
“Now, now, Daniel, my pledge, my very own pledge,” Stan said, straightening his high school pullover sweater as Daniel passed him, elbowed him, and walked up to Timothy in front of the sinks.
“Cripes!” Daniel said, pointing at Stan with his eyes, throwing his head backward. “If I had been an active, he sure as heck wouldn’t have made it!”
Timothy felt sorry for Stan, who heard Daniel’s remarks. He acted as though he hadn’t heard them. His eyes switched rapidly between his plate and Mrs. Gaddy. Timothy and Daniel started washing the dishes. Timothy felt Stan’s embarrassment.
“I came down on a mercy mission for Senora Dex,” swinging his watch and holding it for Timothy and Daniel to see. Daniel contained a mild explosion, shook his head angrily, turned and shouted under his breathe at Stan, “ . . . you are one stupid son of a. . . . ”
“Careful, Daniel, my pledge,” Stan said, backing away from them slowly. “I’ll get you at pledge meeting.”
“Are you studying Spanish?” Timothy asked.
“Yep,” Stan replied and opened his watch. “And they say it’s my language.”
Both Timothy and Daniel guffawed. Daniel leaned against Timothy and held himself, laughing as he spoke, “Spanish must be your language, Stan, because English, sure as hell, isn’t it!” Daniel turned and looked up at Timothy. “Oh God, hold me up. I can’t believe him!”
Timothy knew his fraternity brothers, actives and pledges, thought that Stan was slow. In conversations with Stan, Timothy was not completely convinced, although Stan seemed to do his best to make a good case for 'slow’. Timothy thought Stan could also accurately be portrayed as devious and secretive.
“Stan!” a voice came charging down the stairwell. “Where in hell are you? This damn phone is still off the hook!”
Stan glided to the doorway, slid to a halt by grabbing the doorjamb, looked upward and spoke to the voice as though he had complete control. “He’s coming. Hold your nuts!” “Mother Gaddy is in the dining room Stan,” Daniel remarked, nastily.
Stan frowned and looked at the swinging doors. “They can’t hear from out there,” he said, softly, hunching his shoulders.
“Hurry it up,” the voice said. “I gotta call my girl.”
“That’s John Varney’s voice,” Timothy and Daniel said, to each other at the same time. They cupped their hands as though they were megaphones and shouted quietly, “and I’ve got to call my girl!”
They laughed quietly, and Stan said, “Hey you guys, let’s get serious!” He sauntered back toward Daniel and Timothy as they laid towels over the dishes to speed up drying them. Timothy turned to Stan.
“You never have said, why you’re here, Stan,”Timothy said, looking at Stan out of the corner of his eyes. “Why did you come into the washroom?”
“You’ve got a phone call, Dexie,” Stan said. Timothy turned and Daniel got angry again.
“Now, Stan?”Timothy asked. “Varney’s waiting for me at the telephone?”
“Yep,” Stan said, and pocketed his gold watch.
“We should wrap that watch chain around your neck, you jerk,” Daniel said, as Timothy ran past Stan and bounded up the stairs past the first floor and onto the second floor. He ran up to John Varney. John gave him the earpiece and said, “Hurry up!”
“Hello?” Timothy said.
“Dex?” a nervous voice asked.
“Who is this? Ferris?” Timothy said, and turned his back to the hallway wall leaning against it.
“Yes, Dex. It’s Ferris.” Timothy listened to the long pause. “Dex I’m in trouble, and I don’t know what to do about it. I need your help.”
“What kind of trouble, Ferris?” Timothy asked talking to the mouthpiece.
“Can’t talk now. Please! Please, Dex!” Timothy heard Ferris breathing. He heard a desperate tone in his voice. “Meet me at McHart Hall in ten minutes. Dex?”
“What?” Timothy replied.
“Stand back in the doorway so no one can seen you.” Ferris paused again. “Dex,” Ferris said, sounding terrified, “please hurry!”
Tim heard a click, then he heard the tone. He hung up, looked at John Varney, who stared back at him without asking a question.
He turned, ran into his study room, threw open a sliding door of his clothes closet and grabbed a green, wool pullover sweater. Breathing hard, he stuffed his wallet, dollar bills and change into his back and side trouser pockets, ran into the hall, and bounded down the back stairs. He slammed the rear doors open wide and leaped onto the gravel driveway. The crunch of the gravel under his feet as he ran accompanied down to the grass. He ran across the wide lawn, leaped across Delta Street and headed toward campus and McHart Hall.
Tim heard his footsteps echo the old buildings, some all wood, some brick construction, of “Old Campus”. Each of the four buildings housed liberal arts classrooms. Slowing down to a fast walk as he crossed Quad Street, he stepped up onto the sidewalk and into the grass of the Quadrangle. He heard then noticed a car moving slowly on the far side of the Quad. He turned left to get out of sight of the car and wasn’t certain why the car was suspicious to him. He darted among the trees, staying in the shadows of the tall oaks as it started to rain. Lightning then thunder cracked. The crash of thunder was so loud it sounded as though it originated in the top of the giant oak trees. Lightning cast odd shadows as he moved quickly off the sidewalk, and cautiously next to the bushes that surrounded McHart Hall. My heart’s pounding. He felt his chest as he turned on the sidewalk and ran up fourteen stairs that ended with the double door entrance to the school building.
Tim stood against one of the two ten foot wooden pillars and glanced across the Quad at the slow-moving car. He no longer saw the car or reflection of its headlights in the wet pavement.
A strong arm grabbed his waist while a hand clapped his mouth shut. He was terrified. The arms lifted upward and dragged him backward into a corner of the entry way, into the dark shadows of the entrance to McHart Hall. He could feel his heart pounding in his eardrums. He attempted a scream.
“Sh!” a voice whispered.
Ferris! It’s Ferris! Thank God!.
He held Timothy tightly against his body. Timothy felt the pressure of Ferris’s chest, belly, and legs and knew he couldn’t move.
“They’re right over there.” Timothy felt Ferris shiver. “They’ll turn left on Quad Street, go down to Marble Street then turn right, come back to Quad and circle these buildings again.”
Let go of me, Ferris! He held his hand tightly against Timothy’s mouth. hand.
“Quiet!” Ferris warned, loosening his hold on Timothy’s waist, his body and mouth.
“What?” Timothy looked at Ferris’s left wrist. “What in heck is that on your wrist?” Timothy asked, whispering and staring at the small one-inch blue circle that enclosed a yellow number twenty-two. The rain fell heavier while lightning and thunder made their presence known.
“It’s nothing. A tattoo,” he informed whispering in Timothy’s ear while keeping a lookout for the car. “My high school fraternity symbol. Good luck guys. That was our name. It’s there for life! Don’t worry about it, Dex!” He still held Timothy tightly. “Geez, Timothy, I’m really scared.”
“Ferris!” Timothy frowned. “Let me go. What’s going on?” Timothy knew Ferris was frightened. He felt his body tremble.
“I will but for God’s sake, don’t run away. I need you. I need your help.” Suddenly, Ferris grabbed Timothy tighter and pulled him back into the corner of the entrance again; back into the blackness of the old building. “They can’t see us from here. Look! Those sons of bitches! There they are again!” Ferris gasped and leaned his head against Timothy’s shoulder, sounding exhausted.
“Who are they?” Timothy whispered, trying to touch and comfort Ferris.
“I’m not sure. I really don’t know.”
Timothy felt Ferris’s heart beating against his back and knew that he was frightened and in trouble. Timothy did not know how to help him. “I think They’re looking for me. I’m pretty sure they are.”
Ferris started to breathe loudly. “What makes you think that?” Timothy said, turning and looking at Ferris’s eyes. They’re bloodshot. He stood next to Ferris and put his arm around his shoulders.
“I’ve been interviewed, I guess you’d call it, talked to by some profs about majoring in state-of-the-art brain surgery.” “Are you pre-med?”
“Yeah!” He nodded, taking his arm from around Timothy’s waist. “At least I was.”
“I don’t get it, Ferris,”Timothy whispered. Ferris cautioned silence as he pointed to the Quad sidewalk. Two men wearing raincoats walked slowly, with their hands inside their raincoat pockets, as though searching, along the perimeter sidewalk of the Quad. Their hats were pulled down low over their faces. Timothy kept them in sight and knew that Ferris held his breathe. “I’ll bet you They’re students, Ferris.” Timothy offered softly. I know them.”
“Are they Frat brothers of yours?”
“No. Just guys. Students at DeLong. I know them. Now calm down,” he said, patting Ferris’s arm. Timothy could see Ferris’s heart pound as his neck artery bulged rapidly in succession. Poor guy! How can I help? Poor us! He glanced at the four-door sedan and frowned at it as the car moved out of sight. “I’ve seen them around campus,” he added watching them walk slowly.
“Those guys are not students, Dex! They’re not students!” he cried as the gray Ford cruised behind the Alpha Chi fraternity house. “Oh, God help me!” he said, slumping against the wall. Timothy saw tears in Ferris’s eyes. “Help me, Timothy. I wish I weren’t here! God! I want to be somewhere else.”
“Does your family know?”
“No!” He looked at Timothy. He pleaded. “How could I? What would I tell them?” He wiped his nose with his sleeve. His trench coat was soaked. “They’d think I was drinking again.”
“Have you stopped your heavy drinking?”
“Yeah. Yeah I really have. I’ve got to get serious with my life.”
“Where do you live now? Why haven’t I heard from you in the last couple of months.” Timothy didn’t understand why he felt a desire to help Ferris. Why do I want to be near him so much? Why do I feel so comfortable with him? I’m not lonely for friends! “I haven’t seen you since rush week.”
Ferris half-listened as he kept an eye on the Quad area. The wind started to carry raindrops back into the entry way and large drops splashed against them.
“I didn’t want to pledge.” He stood up straight again. “I’m not rah, rah and all that!” He leaned forward, looked out over the Quad and saw no car. “I thought I was rah, rah, but most of these Frat guys are phony, clowns, I guess. I got over that in high school.” Ferris moved cautiously toward the top step by sliding the back of his body along the wall of the entry way. He looked in different directions, walked guardedly across the entry way to the opposite side, and strained his neck to search another area of the Quad.
“Those two guys are not students! I know it, Dex! You just don’t know what’s going on, Dex.” Ferris stepped down onto the top step. “I know what you said. You said you knew them but that was to make me feel better, I’m telling you, this is no game they’re playing. My life is in danger and I don’t even know why!”
“How do you know that, Ferris?”Timothy asked, grabbing his arm. He begged Ferris not to leave.
“I overhead my prof talking to them.” He looked around again. across the Quadrangle.
“Ferris,” Timothy said, whispering. “Ferris!”
Ferris turned and looked at him. “Where do you live now?” “In the older part of town,” he said, sounding nervous. He rubbed his belly.
“Where, exactly?” Timothy asked. “What’s your address?”
Ferris walked back toward Timothy and grabbed his arms. “You’re sweater is wet. You’re wet clear through. Better get back to your House and take a hot shower. I”ll be in touch, but I’ve got to go now.”
“Ferris!” Timothy said, puzzled by his changed tone. “Where are you going? Where are you going now?”
“Got to be careful for a while, Dex,” he said, walking back toward the top stair. He checked the Quad area again, leaped down the stairs two at a time, and ran west across the Quad.
Why is he going toward the pre-med building? Old Town is in the opposite direction. The rain had changed to a slight drizzle and he took comfort from the change. He walked to the landing at the top of the stairs, saw no cars, heard only students chatting, walking and splashing sidewalk puddles. He bounded down the concrete stairs and jogged rapidly back across the Quad, across Quad Street, then across Maple and Delta streets, and across his lawn to the Delta Rho House.


Ivy Walls, Book 1, Chapter 5

Book1, Chapter 1 Book1, Chapter 2 Book1, Chapter 10