“It’s been over twenty years since I’ve been to Rockville,” Roger confessed as he leaned back in the passenger’s seat.

“I’d like to tell you that nothing’s changed much, but that’d be a lie,” Thomas said as his car approached the outskirts of the tiny farming community where they had grown up together. “Ever since the school closed down, the place has just been withering away. My uncle says we were cursed with a cruel wind, but the truth is, lots of small towns are disappearing.”

Thomas continued driving his battered Chevy down the neglected concrete highway towards their old hometown. Roger felt every bump along the way thanks to the road’s cracks and potholes, and the green Nova’s worn shocks.

“I can’t believe you’ve managed to keep this old car running,” Roger said. “Remember back in high school when you hit a hundred in this beast right here on the highway?”

Thomas smiled as he thought about his exploits thirty-some years ago.

“If you tried it today, the first pothole would send us careening into the ditch, and probably send us to the hospital too,” joked Roger.

“Nope, the head gasket would blow long before we even hit seventy.”

Roger could only nod his head in agreement. The Nova had seen better days.

Thomas slowed the car as they entered town. A red wooden sign with clean white paint greeted them with the same message that Roger saw the last time he visited, Welcome to Rockville, home of the Mighty Rock Chucks, State B Football Champions, 1983.

Roger remembered the day he and Thomas added the text extolling their football championship. As co-captains of the team it was their privilege to leave a more permanent reminder of their team’s accomplishment.

“I’m surprised the sign is still in such good shape. From what you’ve told me so far about the town, I would have expected it to be weathered and illegible by now,” Roger said.

“Well, someone had to keep it painted,” Thomas replied as he stroked his greying beard.

“You?”

“You sure as hell weren’t going to do it, especially after moving to Florida.”

This time Roger smiled. It was nice to know Thomas was also sentimental about their hometown. He certainly would never admit it outright.

Rockville once had a stoplight, but it had been removed and now the town wasn’t much more than a gathering of tired houses and a few closed churches that surrounded the remaining grain elevators and gas station. After only a few blocks, Thomas turned left off the highway and onto Main Street, the one paved road in town. The line of old brick buildings were all closed, many with boarded-up windows. Roger remembered when a small grocery store, library, and antiques shop were there. On the other side of the street was the restaurant where they used to hang out as boys and play Missile Command, the one arcade game in town. Now the restaurant was called “R” Bar, and even it was closed. Only the fire station remained in decent condition, but it was always only manned by volunteers.

“You’re right. There’s not much left,” Roger said after passing a block of mostly distant memories.

“Once the districts consolidated and the school closed, there wasn’t much reason for people to come into town,” Thomas explained. “There are a few elders trying to keep the community alive, but it won’t work. All the younger generation has moved away.”

“Guilty.”

“I don’t blame you Rog. If it weren’t for the stubbornness I inherited along with the homestead, I would have left too.”

Roger tried turning the conversation in a more positive direction, “I am looking forward to seeing everyone at the reunion tonight. It sounds like we’re going to have a pretty good turnout, all things considered.”

Thomas turned onto a gravel road that led to the school grounds. The tires spun and left a trail of light brown dust. “I don’t know why you want to see the school. It’s pretty depressing really.”

“I want a dose of nostalgia.”

“All right, there’s not much to see though.”

They turned another corner and drove along-side the school grounds. Roger noticed the maple trees and hedges lining the road had grown thick and obscured much of his view of the grade school. He got a glimpse of the building between trees, and remembered when he first started going to Rockville in the second grade. Thomas wasn’t his first friend but soon became his best, and for the most part remained so until their graduation day.

“At least the grade school is still standing. It was used as a private Christian school for a while,” Thomas explained, “but even that’s been gone for years now.”

He continued giving his guided tour as they crept down the lane. “The old high school was condemned so it was demolished about fifteen years ago. I grabbed a load of bricks and made a walkway for the farmhouse. The Christian school repaired and saved the gym, but it’s only used on rare occasions now.”

The high school that harbored so many cherished memories was gone. Not just run down like the rest of the town, but completely erased from the landscape. Roger had heard that it was initially turned into a park, but no one cared for the grounds anymore and they had become overrun with native grasses, weeds and a few struggling spruce trees.

“Seen enough?” Thomas asked.

“Let’s go up to the football field,” Roger proposed, “once more for old time’s sake.”

“No. No, you really don’t want to go up there,” Thomas advised as he pulled the car to the side of the road and stopped. “It’s just not right. I can’t really explain it, but it’s not a good place anymore.”

“What are you talking about? Remember during the homecoming game when we were behind by six, with just forty seconds to go, and you threw me that perfect spiral pass on the down-and-out route? My second touchdown of the game, and we won by one point. It was so awesome.”

“Big deal, I had four touchdowns that night and we won the game with my extra point,” Thomas bragged.

“That’s only because you were the quarterback,” said Roger. His friend raised his eyebrows in an expression designed to coax more information. “And the kicker.”

“And the outside linebacker,” Thomas added.

“Drive on up. It’s only another block.”

“Fine,” he said reluctantly.

Thomas shifted into gear, climbed the small hill, pulled into a dirt patch off the road, and parked next to the old football field on the edge of town.

“Pretty sad huh?” Thomas said as the men looked out the cracked windshield. After a few seconds he said, “All right, let’s go. We’re supposed to meet up for dinner soon.”

“Hold on a second,” Roger said as he climbed out of the car and slammed the door shut.

Much like the school grounds, the football field had been overrun with tall grass and various weeds. Along the edges, volunteer barley had spread in from the adjoining farm fields. The grasses wavered in the cool eastward breeze. The bleachers that used to be built into the far hillside had been removed and the land reclaimed for farming. The existence of the oval track that enclosed the field had been smothered by invasive weeds, although he could see a bit of the fine gravel under his feet as he walked towards the field. Both goal posts were still upright, although the far one was leaning back precariously. Roger had forgotten how quickly the evenings cooled off here as a burst of wind sent a wave through the grasses and a chill down his spine.

He strode a little further into the field where the prairie grass was waist high. He was trying to picture his playing days on this plot of ground, but his memories were muted by the melancholy feeling brought on by the field’s current state of neglect.

Thomas rolled down his window, stuck his head out and yelled, “You seen enough?”

Roger realized that being here now raised feelings more of sadness than nostalgia so he decided to head back to the car, but just as he turned, he heard the faint whisper of a baby crying. He spun back around, looked out towards the center of the field, and heard it again.

“Thomas, come here. I think I heard something.”

His old friend grudgingly got out of the car and walked up to him, “What’d you hear, a rock chuck rustling about?”

“No, listen.”

The men stood silent for a moment, and Roger heard it again, only this time louder and more clearly.

“Do you hear that?” Roger asked. “There’s a baby here. What kind of sick person would leave an infant out in the middle of a field?”

Roger started to walk further into the field, but Thomas grabbed him by the arm and pleaded with all seriousness, “Don’t go in there. It’s a trap.”

Thomas had a fearful look in his eyes that Roger had never seen before. His friend’s lower lip trembled a bit, and he kept looking around as though something was about to pounce on them.

“Are you crazy? We can’t leave a baby out here. Come on, help me find it,” Roger demanded as he ripped his arm free and jogged into what used to be the end zone.

Thomas ran after Roger and quickly tackled him with a perfect form he had not executed since the last time they practiced here. Both men went down hard, flattening the grass and weeds in their wake.

“Ow! What the hell!” Roger yelled after the one-time linebacker landed on top of him. Thomas rolled off and they both lay flat on the ground hidden in the tall grass.

“What’s wrong with you?” Roger asked. “We can’t let a baby die out here.”

Thomas still had that wild look as he sat up, but then he stared Roger in the eye without a hint of uncertainty and said, “That baby died a long time ago. This town has lost too much already. You are coming back with me.”