Part 9

        "Dillon, get off of there!"
        "You're gonna break it!"
        "No I wo-o-on't!"
        "Yes, you will, Dillon, we haven't put anything under that section yet, it can't hold any weight."
        There was a sharp cracking sound, which was met by two cries of dismay and one of abject terror. I hurried forward anxiously, still unable to see the fort, but following the direction of the boys' voices.
        "Di-llon!" I was relieved to hear his name yelled in rebuke, rather than concern. "This is why we didn't want you coming with us, you always screw things up!"
        "B-but I--- I--- I was just trying to help!" Even at a distance, I could tell he was fighting valiantly against crying.
        "Ugh, Dill, just get off the stupid roof. I think you only cracked one of the boards, we'll just take that one out and put in another one, we have some extras."
        "I'm--- I'm sorry, Caleb, I'm really sorry---"
        "It's fine, it's fine, just, stay away from what we're working on, okay? Go sweep all those stupid leaves out of the inside, we knocked a lot in there today from up here."
        I heard the sharp squeal of nails being wrenched out of wood...but I still couldn't make out the fort anywhere. Granted, there was a lot of underbrush in this area, the trees were fairly spread out so enough light reached down to let smaller things grow up, which made it much more difficult to find my way through. There had to be a path around here somewhere, but I couldn't for the life of me find it. I decided the fort must be in the midst of a grove of the little scrub trees, or under vines or something - the boys had to be close, but I couldn't see a thing that looked manmade. Unless the fort was just a little cove covered in vines--- but no, there was /hammering going on, and Caleb had told me they were going to work on the roof, so it had to be an actual structure. Where on earth was it??
        "Hey - do you guys hear something?"
        "Shut up, Dillon."
        "No really, I think someone's out there."
        "You sure?"
        I stood stock still, holding my breath.
        "I'm sure, I heard someone walking over that way."
        "Well, go check it out then."
        "Okay..."
        I listened carefully, figuring out what direction my opponent was approaching from. As quietly as I could (which really wasn't very quiet), I tried circling around toward the direction I figured he had started from, hoping to get around him but still reach the fort. Of course, I hadn't gone ten feet before I ran into what was basically a wall of vines tangling around shrubs and small trees - there was no way I was getting through that unscathed, and also no way I could do it quietly. I crouched down and stayed still for a few minutes, listening as best I could, but Dillon had one up on me with smaller size, lighter weight, and more practice, and I couldn't quite tell where he was. It wasn't long before my legs started cramping, and I had to straighten back up. I tried moving toward the fort again, but couldn't see a clear way forward, the only way it looked like I could go was back the way I'd come. I sighed heavily, looking around hopelessly.
        "HEY CALEB! I give up, I can't find your fort! You win! ...now come find me before I die lost in the middle of the woods? Please??"

        Ten minutes later, after having gone through a rigorous set of handshakes, oaths, agreeing to conditions, and every other formality the three boys (Caleb's friend Dave was the third voice I'd heard) could think of, I was given a thorough tour of the fort. Really, as forts went, it was pretty impressive. The boys had found a run-down shack two summer ago, and worked on it ever since. I couldn't tell if it had been a storage shed, or a rest stop for hunters, or what originally. The walls were roughly sided with wood, though a few run-down spots had been covered over with sheets of corrugated metal. In my defense, it really was hard to pick it out, there was an awful lot of undergrowth in the area just around it, and leafy vines of some sort covered a good portion of the walls. There were two small windows, though one was missing about half of the glass. The door swung loosely on its hinges - Caleb told me it hadn't even been fully attached when they started working on it, the boys had replaced the lower hinges, though they wanted to replace the whole door if they could before winter.
        "It's actually easier to get out here in the winter, with all the plants dead, but the walls leak so much it doesn't even keep the wind out," Dave explained. "The roof is almost all patched, then we're gonna put tar paper over it to keep the water out. The walls will be next."
        "I thought we were gonna fix the window?" Dillon asked.
        "Where are we gonna get sheets of glass?" Caleb asked dismissively. "We'll just get some of plastic, like Grandpa puts over the drafty windows in their house, and that'll keep the snow out, and most of the wind."
        The walls were bare, apart from an ancient calendar hanging beside the door. There were two rusted metal frames of chairs, pushed up against one wall, which even the boys didn't trust to hold their weight, given the assortment of logs laying around. A small, stained card table sat under one window, which the boys had set a coffee can full of assorted nails on. Otherwise, the room was devoid of any furnishings, just a bunch of dry leaves and other bits of debris in the corners.
        The boys went back to work, Caleb and Dave on the roof, Dillon cleaning out the interior. I was given permission to take pictures, as long as I swore (again) never to reveal the location of the fort to anyone.
        My strange mood of that morning had fallen away, but I still felt a little strange, a bit disconnected from my usual self. While I took a few pictures of the boys, I found myself strangely drawn to the signs of age, of wear, around the building. It made for a nice contrast, young boys against weathered old wood, bringing a fresh breath into the place, and I took a few nice shots of bright new wood nailed up beside grey aged wood. But again, I felt there was more... almost like there was a personality to the place, an identity to the shack, like a face I couldn't quite make out, but would see if I got the angle just right. Again, it was a very strange feeling, and I really didn't feel like I was quite nailing it in the photos. But I kept trying, taking pictures through the shattered window, up close to the bright patterns of rust on the chairs and table, trying to vary the angles and approaches as best I could. It was a nice challenge, actually, trying to take so many different pictures of such a small place.
        I sat down for a minute inside, changing a roll of film. I'd just gotten a new roll in, when Caleb peeked in through the broken window. "Hey, how many pictures are you taking, anyway?"
        I grinned. "A lot. The more I take, the better chances I'll take something really good." He started to move away, but I called him back. "Wait wait wait! Stay right there."
        He looked at me skeptically, but stayed put. He leaned his elbows against the outside sill, tilting his head to the side and peering in. "You taking pictures of me?"
        Click. "Yep." Click. "Take a step back, away from the window? No, off to the side, yeah. Now step up and peek in, like you're just seeing the place for the first time, look curious about what's inside."
        Apparently he was bewildered enough by my instructions to keep the expression I wanted, and I couldn't stop grinning as I took a few more shots through the shattered window. "Fa-a-antastic. Cay, you're an awesome model, thank you."
        He just rolled his eyes. "If you make me look girly, I'll beat you up."
        "I promise, I won't." I was so happy with the shots I'd taken that day - and just as Caleb had come up to the window, the light had streamed in from outside, catching at small dust motes in the air, and fracturing through the cracks and sharp edges of the glass. He walked off and I heard the rustle of leaves, as he swung up onto its branches, to climb from there onto the roof. I swung my camera up into my hand, balancing its weight automatically, and took a few closer shots of the broken window, seeing what effects I could make it do for me, focusing sometimes on the glass, and sometimes the trees and things outside the shack.
        "Hey Dill! Can you throw us up that crowbar?"
        "...you sure you want me to throw it?"
        "Oh HA, HA, very funny."
        There was a pretty substantial thud on the ceiling above me, and I eyed the aged wood warily, but saw no sign of damage.
        "I said not to throw it!"
        "I didn't hit you, what's the difference?"
        "Okay, so I'll just throw a few nails down on that side of the fort..."
        "Okay, okay, I'm sorry! Geez..."