The Maddening

by Andrew Neiderman

  Goading him on was the voice of his father, accusing him of another failure. His eyes rolled, his face flushed with color. Gerald was totally out of control.

  Chicky Ross stopped walking down the dirt road the moment he set eyes on David Oberman’s Audi tilted in a ditch. Relief washed over him, followed by anxiety. The signs pointed away from foul play on his part. David Oberman would hardly abandon his car in the neighborhood where his wife disappeared if he planned to do away his family, then flee the country. He looked about, then hurried to the car. Questions flooded his mind. Why would the man have taken such a dangerously rutted road? Had he done it at night when he couldn’t see where he was going?

  A quick perusal of the inside of the automobile did not reveal any evidence of foul play, either. Nothing was broken and there were no bloodstains. When he looked around the car, he spotted some footsteps and followed their path with his gaze. He saw what was obviously another automobile in the forest ahead and walked down to it, but even before he reached it he could tell that it had been abandoned some time ago. There were large patches of rust on the body and wiry weeds poked through the holes in the body. The car had been blue, now faded to an eggshell color. What was the make on the car driven by the previous pair who disappeared in this area? He decided to run a check later.

  He turned around and studied the area. Aside from the old car, there was nothing here to attract David Oberman. Perhaps the young man had wanted to investigate the car or perhaps he had come down here by mistake and gotten stuck in the ditch.

  “Mr. Oberman,” he called and then listened. There was no response and no movement in the fields around him.

  Where did David Oberman go after his car got stuck? He certainly hadn’t returned to that garage. Maybe he got hurt when the car went into the ditch. Perhaps he was at some house or perhaps someone nearby took him to a hospital for treatment. There was nothing to do now but to get to a phone and call in. He thought that the best place would be the nearest farmhouse, whatever was closest. He imagined this was the owner’s land.

  He walked back to his car, happy that he hadn’t tried to drive too far down this…what did the mechanic call it?…cowpath. That’s what it was, all right. Oberman must have been pretty excited to have attempted it, he thought, but he couldn’t imagine what the man had expected to find. It made even less sense for his wife to have taken this dirt road.

  After he climbed into his car, Chicky backed out of the road and started for the farmhouse, but the exhaust pipe rattled so hard when he gunned the engine to get the car over a small rise that it finally broke free of its defective mooring and clattered to the pavement. He cursed and stopped the vehicle.

  “Nice time to fall apart on me,” he muttered as he got out to look under the car. Sure enough, the pipe rested on the road. He could drive on and let it drag, but it would probably break off completely. The whole muffler system might fall out, he thought. Besides, it wasn’t all that much of a walk to the farmhouse. He decided he would leave the car on the side of the road; after he called in Oberman’s car, he would call that garage and have them come with a tow truck.

  “And this time it will be fixed right,” he vowed.

  He pulled the car just off the road and then began his short hike. He laughed to himself thinking about Maggie back at home. He would have to phone her to tell her that he wasn’t going to return as quickly as he had thought. Their shopping would be postponed once again. He was sure she would tear into her brother and then go about her business cursing both of them throughout the day.

  He would have to make it up to her, he thought. She really was a patient and understanding woman. Of course, he would take her out to dinner and make promises about what they would do on his next day off. He could just see her seated across the table in the restaurant, her right eyebrow hooked skeptically as he spoke.

  When the farmhouse came into view, he thought about David Oberman once again. As far as he was concerned the man was clean. He’d have to prove it to the rest of the department. Still, Chicky wondered why the man didn’t call in and ask for help if something like this happened to him. More important, his car foundered in a ditch didn’t explain his failure to check in to find out what, if anything, was new about his missing wife and child. If he had found them, he wouldn’t have gone down that dirt road, would he? Could it be that he found them there?

  Chicky concluded that nothing much was really solved by his discovery of Oberman’s car. In fact, it only created more questions. That old policeman’s instinct was humming away again. As he walked on, he sensed that he was closing in on answers. Perhaps it was because of the mystery and the frustration, but he suddenly felt a little paranoid.

  The road was so quiet. He realized that not a car had motored down either way since his arrival. He didn’t mind being in a rural area, but right now the stillness was unnerving. It already was very warm, promising an unusually hot day. Sweat had broken out over his face and neck.

  As he went along he chastised himself for not being in Krammer’s physical condition. True, this wasn’t much of a walk, but either because he was in worse shape than he had imagined, or because he was just plain nervous, his legs and his back felt very tight, as if his body were warning him not to go any farther alone.

  He unbuttoned his shirt, wiped his face with his handkerchief, and touched the pistol in his holster just for security’s sake. There was no one to call out here, no backup units, no one on the force who knew he was on this road. He didn’t like the feeling. Whatever had incapacitated the Obermans could be lying in wait to ambush him.

  He realized that he was talking himself into things and he wasn’t reacting in a very professional manner, but he couldn’t help it.

  He often imagined a violent policeman’s death for himself. Sometimes he felt it was inevitable. Wherever it occurred and however it occurred, he believed he would have a moment to reflect upon it, and in that moment he would see Maggie’s face with that “I told you so” expression written all over it. In his vision he saw himself shrug. What else could he do?

  Chicky paused when he reached the driveway of the old farmhouse. It looked so quiet and still, almost uninhabited. This was the Thompson house. Something the mechanic had said came back to him. “He even talked to Gerald Thompson, for chrissakes.” Chicky had asked who Gerald Thompson was and the mechanic had replied, “Creepy son of a bitch. He don’t like talking to anyone.”

  Oberman’s car was crippled on what looked to be Gerald Thompson’s land, he thought. There was a good chance that the man, regardless of what kind of man he was, might know something about it.

  He looked up to note the sun had just cleared the tops of the trees to the east. It burned through the thin haze and looked pasted against the sky.

  Every time he imagined his own demise, it always occurred in the daytime, ironic in that he believed death should come on dark, cloudy days when the horizon looked gloomy.

  It’s all got to mean something, he thought, but whatever it meant, it was beyond him right now. He pulled his stomach in a little and started up the drive. He felt every step got him closer to some answers.

  14

  As soon as he latched the basement door, David embraced Tami. For a moment he could do nothing more. The two of them clung to one another on the stone stairway, just as confused as Gerald Thompson who stood on the other side of the metal door. Tami’s subdued sobbing became more like hiccups. Her body jerked spasmodically in David’s arms.

  “It’s all right, honey. It’s all right,” he muttered and then began a laborious descent down the steps into the basement, still clasping her to his chest. With the added weight, his one good leg threatened to give out and send both of them sprawling, but somehow David found the strength.

  Once inside, he kneeled and lowered Tami to stand on her own feet. But she wouldn’t relinquish her grasp of him. She clung to his neck, pulling him forward awkwardly. He caught his breath and looked about, his eyes now wide and frantic.

/>   He realized it would be a matter of minutes before the madman descended on them in the basement. He had little time to think, but the realization that both he and his daughter were in terrific danger catapulted him beyond logical thought. He became more like a rabid animal, more like trapped prey clawing madly against the darkness for some avenue of escape.

  In such a mad state, he was unaware of the pain and weakness in his body. He rose to his feet. Tami, still clinging to his neck, dangled from his body. He embraced her with his left arm and made his way back into the other room, moving about with no apparent purpose. He circled to the right of the coffin, keeping a good distance from the stairway. The morning light that streaked through the small basement windows cast the dark room in a silvery gray. Dust particles glittered in the rays.

  When he reached the water heater, he paused. There was a metal box brimming with tools beside it. At least he could rummage some kind of weapon. He knelt down but Tami began to scream when he started to pry her hands apart to get her off of him.

  “Wait,” he said. “Daddy needs this. Wait.”

  She clutched his good leg.

  He took the ball hammer out of the tool chest, encircled and lifted her with his left arm, and made his way across the basement to the side of the stairs.

  There was no banister on this side of the stairway. In fact, the wooden steps looked like an afterthought, tacked on long after the house had been built. Perhaps they were recently made to replace older stairs, he thought.

  In any case someone coming down them wouldn’t have a clear view of the basement until he or she reached midway. David saw this as an advantage; he now had an element of surprise, and he knew that whatever blow he could deliver would have to find its mark rapidly and successfully. His problem was to get Tami calm enough to give him room.

  He stroked her hair and listened. Something stirred upstairs, but he didn’t think the footsteps sounded heavy enough to be the man’s. He kissed Tami’s cheek and began to slide her to his right, lowering her into a sitting position.

  “You’ve got to let go of Daddy for a few moments, Tami. The bad man is coming and I’ve got to keep him from hurting us. Easy, sweetheart, easy,” he said.

  He got her to let go, but the moment she did so she realized she didn’t have her doll.

  “Where’s Sooey? I want Sooey.”

  David looked back into the other room. The doll must have fallen on the stone stairway; it sparked an idea that could give him an advantage during the confrontation he was about to begin. If he could just keep the madman’s attention away from him long enough to safely deliver the blow…

  “The doll’s back in that room, Tami. Go get it, but when you get it, don’t come back out here. Stay in the doorway. I want you to just stand there, understand?”

  Tami looked to the other room. The short distance seemed like miles and she wasn’t confident Gerald wouldn’t crash through the metal door and stomp down the stone steps.

  But, on the other hand, she never felt as great a need for her doll. She wanted to clutch it to her because, even to her fearful mind, it invoked the warmth and security she had always known at home.

  “Go, quickly,” David said. Tami stood up. David realized he was using his daughter as a decoy, but she might save them all. If he couldn’t stop the madman, it wouldn’t make much difference anyway.

  She scampered away from him, stumbling on the long nightgown. She saw Sooey at the base of the stone steps and rushed to scoop up the doll. She did, and began to race back. David screamed at her.

  “Stay there!”

  Her father looked angry and wild. She stopped and stared out at him. Almost simultaneously, she heard Gerald Thompson come to the top of the basement steps. With both her arms, she pressed her doll to her body and looked up as he began to descend, never looking more gigantic than he did at this moment. His long arms with their hands balled into fists dangling at his sides, he gave off an animal energy.

  When he was almost halfway down, Gerald saw her. He stopped on the stairs. He imagined the man was still on the stone stairway. Maybe he was trying to get the metal door open. He smiled to himself, believing he had him trapped.

  Below, David crouched against the wall, pressing his body as closely to it as he could. He grasped the ball hammer in his left hand and blanked everything out of his mind except a single image: himself swinging the weapon at his target—the big man’s left knee.

  “Son of a bitch,” Gerald Thompson cursed and continued his descent. The moment his legs came into clear view, David stepped away from the wall and swung the hammer on a straight, lateral path. The balled head crashed into the center of Gerald Thompson’s knee bone. A sickening crack sounded.

  To Gerald the blow was so unexpected that for a moment it seemed to come out of thin air, delivered by a spirit rather than a man. Almost immediately, it drove the breath out of him. He crumpled as if he were made of plaster and went crashing down, his head smacking sharply against a wall. He was unable to break his fall at the bottom of the stairway and rolled head over heels onto the basement floor. Before his body came to a complete rest, he was already unconscious. The shovel he’d been carrying clattered to the floor beyond his coiled body, rattling to a standstill.

  With the hammer still in his hand, David hopped toward Gerald Thompson, arched to deliver another blow if necessary. He was both surprised and excited by his success. Tami still had not twitched a muscle.

  “Quickly,” he said, urging her to cross to him. “To Mommy.” Tami hesitated. She didn’t want to go near the big man, but David urged her more frantically. She scurried around the sprawled form of Gerald, whose huge muscled arms were flung out in crucifix fashion, coming only inches away from his open, thickened palms. Even though she was terrified of him, she couldn’t help staring down into his face. His mouth was slightly ajar, exposing the upper teeth against his lip. The tip of his tongue curled over his lower lip, and to her it looked like a creature peering out from its lair.

  “Quickly,” David repeated. He took her hand and pulled her to him, lifting her with his right arm. Pain stabbed again in his leg, and he nearly folded over. But his desperation kept him going forward. Halfway up, he groaned and nearly lost consciousness, wavering on the steps. There was no way he could carry her and make it to the top. He had to lower her quickly.

  “Go up, go up,” he urged. She rushed ahead of him. Using the banister for support, he pulled himself up from what he had once feared would be his graveyard, coffin and all. Now his only thought was to get Stacey and shepherd them all out of this madhouse.

  When he reached the top, he closed the basement door behind him. He saw there was no way to lock it and for a few moments he considered propping something against it. But he opted for freeing Stacey right away, and getting all of them away from the house as quickly as possible. Tami waited at the base of the stairway.

  “Take me to Mommy,” he said. “Hurry.”

  She started up the steps and he followed as fast as he could, but when she reached the landing she stopped. He came up behind her.

  “What is it? We’ve got to move quickly.”

  She didn’t speak. He looked up from her and confronted Irene and Shirley, both standing in the hallway. Shirley wore her nightgown and Irene wore a robe. She smiled coldly as though she had already made any further rescue an impossibility.

  David looked from the woman to the girl. The girl scowled at him. She opened her big hands like a hawk readying to claw prey.

  “Where’s my wife?” David asked. His voice rose barely above a whisper. He steadied himself by leaning against the wall on the top landing. He still carried the hammer and imagined that he had to appear quite threatening to this woman and child, whoever they were. His clothing was torn and disheveled; his face was streaked with dirt and sweat, and the wild look in his eyes, caused by pain and anger, gave him a menacing air. He had gone through a metamorphosis; and he would not have recognized himself if he had looked into a mirror.
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  For a moment Irene said nothing. Then her smile softened. Shirley, as if sensing the change in her mother’s mood, relaxed her stance. She pressed her hands against her thighs and lowered her shoulders.

  “I’ve got to make breakfast,” Irene said. He was shocked by the friendly, musical tone in her voice. He looked from Irene to Shirley and then back at Irene. For a moment he questioned whether he were hallucinating. Why wasn’t this woman afraid of him? Why did she act as though he had always been in this house?

  “Shirley and Donna are going to help me,” Irene went on. “They have chores to do; they have to help. Everyone has to pitch in. That’s what Gerald always says.” She smiled and reached out to pat Tami’s head.

  Tami backed up against him.

  “Donna,” she said, “don’t you want to help?”

  “Donna? Who’s Donna? Where’s my wife?” he repeated, raising his voice.

  “David?”

  The thin, skeptical-sounding voice drew his attention to the doorway of the room on the right.

  “Stacey!”

  He pushed his way past the woman who offered no resistance and entered the bedroom. The sight of Stacey brought him to tears. He rushed forward, limping as quickly as he could, when Stacey sat up to embrace him.

  She began to cry hysterically, it was as if all her pent-up frustration and fear were suddenly released. The dam was broken, and the flood was free to find its natural course. He stroked and kissed her and pressed her to him firmly until her crying began to subside.

  “Oh God,” she said. “Oh God, oh God.” Her thoughts became jumbled. “How did you find us? Why did it take so long? What happened to you? What happened to your leg?”

  “Never mind me. What happened to you?” He heard the chains rattle and stood up to inspect the mechanism. “Christ almighty, what the hell have they done to you?”

  “And to Tami. They’re crazy people, David. We’ve got to get out of here,” she said, dropping her voice to a whisper. She, too, looked mad to him. “They trapped us here. The car broke down and they locked us away and they did things to us, terrible things…” she gasped. “David, oh God, David. Thank God it’s over. Thank God. Get us out of here. Please.”