The Final Shortcut

by G. Bernard Ray

  Clyde scanned the countryside again while retracing his steps for the last three days. Remembering every dirt road and hunting trail he had searched. From his present vantage point he could see several hundred acres across a gently sloping, valley bordered by the highway. Most of which belongs to Marty. Mentally fatigued he rubbed his eyes, deciding to go ahead and see Ellen. Maybe he could calm her down. Pulling away he felt confident that every square foot of this mountain had been searched, certain that they were out of the county by now.

  In his rear view mirror was a glint of light, a fleeting reflection off the back glass of a pick up truck. Just ninety yards off the road, down a path Daniel Boone couldn’t find. Nestled between two full leafy trees under a large rock outcropping, sat Marty’s blue Chevy.

  ***

  Trudy stomped off the porch, “Fine, If that’s how you feel!” shouting back at Ellen as she slammed the door of her boyfriends car. She spun the tires as sped away, spraying dust and gravel on Sheriff Stokes on his way in.

  “You think she’s in a hurry?” Clyde tried to force a little smile, but it didn’t work. “What’s her problem?”

  Ellen folded her arms angrily and tried to hold back the tears,” I told her I didn’t want to party any more, get high an’ all. I told her it had ruined my life.” Her lips quivered and the tears came like a river, “I chased them away Clyde, I made then hate me!” Clyde pulled her into his arms, pressing her face into his chest.

  “You did no such thing.”

  “Yes I did…. he’s got another woman...they both hate me.” Her tone shifted from sorrow to anger. “He’s got one them whores from “The Sandbox” kissing his ass. You need to go over there again and you’ll find Marty I’ll bet.” She pulled away from him and plunged into her purse for a cigarette. “You know he’s down there, him and my Junior… messing with those whores.”

  “I already went. I told you, it’s out of my jurisdiction. Sheriff Talbot and I don’t see eye to eye.” Clyde moved to sit in the old rocker firm in the resolution that it was going to be another one of those days.

  “Yeh I know, bad blood between you, bad blood and politics.” She rolled her eyes and waved her hand in the air as she downplayed his dilemma with the neighboring county sheriff.

  “He chased me away from there the day before yesterday, threatened me with a lawsuit if I didn’t leave.

  “Ain’t whore houses illegal Clyde?”

  “I can’t go into the next County without the States authority…and it’s a strip club, not a whore house.” Clyde put his head down and rubbed his eyes, feeling the strain of the last few days.

  “Call it what you like.” She glared at him, her eyes digging into his brain like a dentist’s drill. “You know something…don’t you? He told you something ….and you’re covering for him.”

  “What?” he nearly fell out of his chair, “Are you crazy?”

  She stepped up to him and stabbed an outstretched finger in his face. “Don’t let me find out you had a hand in any of this….” She left her venom hanging in the air and stomped into the house, slammed the door and loudly locked it behind her. Clyde sighed heavily and shook his head. Could Marty have actually carried out his threats to run away to the tropics, surely he would have told him first.

  ***

  Scouring the floor of the cavern on his hands and knees, Junior was able to find enough loose coal and wood to make a bigger fire. Illuminating nearly the entire cavern it gave him a better picture of where he was. Almost midnight on the fourth day, his strength had been replenished, and his outlook had greatly improved. Though his decent into madness was complete. He’d had a busy day searching for fuel, cooking his food and making a new torch. Using strips of fabric saturated with Marty’s body fat, he strapped his heart to the wheelbarrow handle and made a successful torch. The grisly scene was too ghastly to describe. Marty’s corpse splayed open from the chest down, his leg bones stripped clean. Several strips of meat were laid out to dry by the fire, and Junior was checking his gear in preparation of another search. “I’ll be back before too long Daddy.”

  He moved off confidently now, having resurrected himself. Certain that he would find the way out today. As he walked away from the air-shaft he saw a hole in the wall about five feet high. In the brighter light he could see it was a doorway mostly covered by dirt, the result of a minor cave in. The dirt was soft enough that he easily pushed his way through the opening and found another tunnel. This one heading up. He crossed his fingers as he anxiously walked up the rise, around a sharp corner only to be stopped cold by more blockages. This one would not be so easy with a four-foot rock blocking the path. His agonizing despair came rushing back to him in a jolt of emotion. He fell to the ground whimpering, threw his torch down and started banging the ground with his fists. Quickly tiring he sat back staring at the wall, his wild eyes bulging and glazed. He noticed a leafy vine growing near the low ceiling, its healthy green tint a stark contrast to the muddy background. Then it struck him, this vine had to come from the outside. For a moment he wasn’t sure if it was real, then he touched it and the sunlight shown on the back of his hand. He plunged into the hole just above his head, clawing like a mad dog to make it bigger. Yanking rocks and roots from the mire. Pausing for a quick breath, his heart about to explode, he stammered back and retrieved his torch. This time using it as a lever, the cave ceiling began to give way. The dirt was soft and soon he had a hole big enough to squeeze through.

  A tree had fallen in a storm and as it toppled it left a huge hole underneath. Just below that, was the hole Junior had found. Half way through he was able to feel the warm sunshine, this revitalized him and he kicked his way free. Pulling up out of the hole, he crawled over to a grassy spot and lay spread eagle, face to the sky. He had forgotten how wonderfully noisy the living world was. Everything seemed like a new experience, his senses reeled from the sudden burst of activity.

  The view to the left was of a large rock overhang some thirty feet off the ground.

  Underneath were several trees and Marty’s truck. Liberation was at hand, he had the keys in his pocket and he knew exactly where he was. Relief washed over him, taking away any ills from the last few days. He settled back in the grass, closed his eyes and fell asleep. It was mid morning of the fifth day.

  Later that evening, Ellen was outside on the phone with Trudy. Both of them apologizing for their argument before, vowing to have a long talk later. After the tearful reunion she hung up and walked across the yard looking intently at the vast open countryside. “Where are you?” She couldn’t give up the feeling that they were nearby. An eerie precognition that they were out there, somewhere, watching her. A cold chill walked up her spine spurning her to trot back into the house. A moment later she jumped in her car and headed to Trudy’s. Before she left she peered back into the hills again. A strange mood fell over her and she lapsed into a dream state and had a vision.

  In her mind Junior was walking up the dirt road near their house carrying a backpack. She ran to him but as she got closer she could see he was covered in blood, his eyes black and cold. His hands were filthy, the fingernails broken and bleeding. He stopped just in front of her; his breath reeked like a dead animal.

  “I’ve come home to take care of you Momma.” he spat the words at her as he withdrew a long butcher knife from his backpack.

  She woke up screaming, curled up in the passenger seat, suddenly aware that it had all been a dream. Quickly getting back in the other seat she started the car and left in a big hurry, her nerves shattered after the horrid day-mare.

  The dust settled across the front yard after Ellen’s speedy departure, the sounds of the country came back to life. From his hiding place, crouched behind a bush thirty yards from the barn, Junior could see the entire spread. Now that Ellen was gone he could take care of things. He and Marty had devised a story, a plan to explain everything. While he slept, they worked out all the details, figured out just what to do to make things right. He couldn’t t
ell them the truth because no one would understand. They would blame him for his Father’s death and never forgive him for surviving like he did. The truth would forever stay buried in Junior’s mind. The farm was quiet now so he seized the opportunity to get busy. It was into the house for a few clothes, then to the barn for his dirt bike. An old kerosene lantern and the hidden strongbox full of cash, Marty’s mad money. He looked at his watch; it was almost seven, time to get moving. There was much to do if he wanted to get the story arranged. If everything went according to plan he should have covered his tracks, gotten rid of the truck, and planted a false trail to back up his story. Cautiously he pushed the bike into the road listening intently for any traffic. He could not be seen yet, not yet. The bike fired up easily and he was off. Tearing down the road, back toward the air-shaft and the truck. “This is gonna be so much fun, ain’t it Daddy?” The bike churned up grass as he sped off road. Weaving his way back to the site of his brain bending drama. Having all taken place less than a mile from home.

  Once he got there he worked his way back inside to his father’s side. “You look after the money Dad, I’m only gonna take a few hundred…gotta get busy now.” He left the lantern just inside the hole and pulled himself back out, ready to put their plan into play. There was an embankment nearby he could use to get the dirt bike in the truck safely. Then it was off to a stream, just a quarter mile away to wash up and change clothes. While he was there he began exploring a bit. He followed the stream uphill to a spot twenty yards above the entrance to a thick stand of trees. As soon as he saw a large flat spot covered with moss and leaves, he knew it had to be another way in. This one was very large, thirty feet by sixty feet as near as he could guess. Some rusty machinery sat next to it covered in leaves. A finger of the stream wound around into a rocky puddle just a few feet away and disappeared into the ground. Undoubtedly the source of the underground pool. Filing the new information away for later he struck out for the road. He had carefully planned his route. Taken time to disguise the truck with mud, and he drove slowly without headlights to remain quiet and invisible. Once he reached the highway he took off to the south toward “The Sandbox.” He giggled with anticipation, high on adrenaline. “This is gonna be fun.”

  Only twenty miles due south, nestled in a secluded valley was a small collection of hotels, greasy spoons, and truck stops. Fifty yards off the main road sat “The Sandbox” a strip club with an anything goes reputation. The area was near enough to a state road to attract plenty of traffic. But tucked away neatly out of sight. It had been there for over twenty years and had provided the county police with a tidy bonus program. Sheriff Talbot watched over the area with extra care, Protecting the business owners, and himself from prying eyes.

  Junior wheeled into a truck stop just before ten that evening. Filled up with gas, ate his first normal meal in a week. Then into the adjoining gift shop. He picked out a new tee shirt and a backpack before striking up a conversation with the cashier.

  “Will this be all?”

  “Yeh, well…can you suggest a good hotel?” Junior feigned a yawn as he paid for his goods.

  “Well, there ain’t but two Honey. An’ they’re both about the same, clean but not fancy.”The cashier could have been any one’s Grandma, smiling and plump.

  “I kinda wanted one that didn’t ask for names or ages, if you know what I mean.”

  Junior put on a broad smile and slid an extra twenty-dollar bill across the counter. The money quickly disappeared.

  “You want the “Elite Inn,” Billy don’t care and he don’t talk either.” He thanked her and made his way down the street to the Elite. But instead of going in he went around back to the dumpster. Climbed in and began looking for a receipt from earlier in the week. He found a trash bag that came from the front desk and decided to look through it in a better light. Making his way to the front, he checked in using a fake name. He greased the man’s palm when he asked how old Junior was, no problem. It only took him ten minutes to find the paper he was looking for. A receipt for two nights stay dated last Tuesday and Wednesday. Perfect. He took a good look at the room so he could accurately describe it later. Then he left and hit another gift shop. This one had clothing so he bought a pair of jeans and another shirt. The girl behind the counter was young and giggly. So Junior took the opportunity to get some more evidence. With very little explanation and another twenty dollars, he was able to get a receipt dated three days ago. This should be enough paper work, now on to the next part of the plan.

  Thirty miles more to the south was an abandoned rock quarry. It had filled up with water from an underground spring many years before. It was reported to be extremely deep. The water didn’t have a way to flow out so it became stagnant and full of algae, making it unsuitable for swimming. When he was just half a mile away he pulled off the road and waited. Watched the road for traffic and changed into his new clothes. He then rolled in the dirt, making sure they looked used. He sat there until after two a.m. before driving the rest of the way to the quarry. Making sure no one saw him or the truck. After he located the perfect spot, he off loaded the dirt bike and his gear behind a clump of bushes. Put the truck into gear and eased it close to the edge of the sheer cliff. Then jumped out and let it plunge into the dark water. Now all he had to do was get back home without being seen. An easy task with a dirt bike. He planned to skirt the road until he reached more familiar territory and then cut cross-country. With any luck he could be home by sun up.

  There was very little traffic on the two lane roads that ambled through the hills. That enabled Junior to get near his farm well before dawn. He needed a little more time to cover his tracks before going home. After cutting the engine and coasting to a stop, he pushed the bike until he was within one hundred yards of the house. There he stopped and hid the bike beside the road. Then crept into the yard for a better look. All quiet. Ellen’s car was not in the driveway so she must have spent the night with Trudy again. Perfect. Back down the road to retrieve his bike. He needed to park it in the barn with enough time to cool. Then all he had to do was wait until the right moment to make his entrance. He crumbled his receipts now to make them look well traveled. He ran the details over in his mind to make sure he had covered everything. Now all he had to do was wait.

  Trudy had gotten very worried when she heard about Ellen’s vision and insisted that she spend the night. They had patched things up for now, but Ellen was serious about quitting the drug and alcohol use. During the night Ellen had another dream. Almost like the other but more terrifying. It started just like the other but this time she didn’t wake up when Junior pulled the knife from his backpack. It continued like a sequel.

  He grabbed her by the arm and dragged her into the dark, scrapping her legs on the rocks as he yanked her through a hole in the ground. Then he started slicing the flesh from her face and eating it. Laughing at her as she screamed for mercy. This time when she woke up, she was screaming, Trudy and her daughter Mandy were standing over her.

  None of them could go back to sleep. So they drank coffee until the sun came up. All three of them had the creeps just thinking about her nightmare. Neither one wanted to leave the house. They talked long and hard about the dream, Marty and Junior. And wondered whether she would ever see them again. Wondered why he was carrying a backpack when he had never owned one before. Wondered how she would run the store by herself. Once mid morning came they had just about talked themselves out and decided to check in with Sheriff Stokes before going home. Even though it was Sunday she knew he would be working. After she hung up the phone, with no new news. The three of them headed out to the Baumann farm to continue the vigil there. Ellen had decided to cook a big country breakfast for them all. Hoping they would stay for a while longer, scared to be alone.

  She had just put some biscuits in the oven when Mandy burst in the kitchen, “It’s Junior, it’s Junior!”

  “What?…Where?” Ellen nearly tripped trying to get to the window where Mandy was pointing. Her
heart skipped a beat when she saw her son walking up the road carrying a backpack. An unexplainable fear washed over but she quickly pushed it aside. They all ran out to meet him, to hug him. The tears flowed freely for several minutes before anyone spoke.

  “Junior, are you alright? Where have you been? Where’s Marty…What happened?” Ellen fired the questions at him without giving him time to answer.

  “He left…took off to Mexico to get away from you!” Junior’s cold, sad expression gave Ellen a terrible feeling of dread.

  “What? What do you mean?” Her hands began to tremble, already feeling guilty for her husband’s disappearance.

  “He said he was sick of living with a junkie so he split.” His words hit her with the force of a wrecking ball. Her head was spinning, and her face drained of any color. Trudy managed to catch her before she fell and Mandy rushed in to help. Meanwhile Junior stood by motionless. “We spent a couple days at a hotel talking before he left. I tried to talk him out of it, but he was determined to leave. Said he had some old friends that lived near Cancun. Some retired drug buddies that he could stay with.” Junior hung his head and began to cry. “I tried to talk him out of it but I couldn’t, he just doesn’t care about us anymore.” Ellen hugged him again and they cried together in silence, then without a word they all turned to go inside.

  “C’mon in, I was just making breakfast, well brunch. Are you hungry?” He wiped his tears with his sleeve and said.

  “Starved, I haven’t had much more than beef jerky all week.” Junior held back his laughter, keeping his little joke to himself. So far, so good. All he had to do was convince Mom of the tale and everybody else would believe it too. And from the look of things he was half way there.

  Sheriff Stokes showed up less than an hour later, spending most of the day questioning Junior. He listened intently as he recounted the last five days in detail, “We stayed at “The Elite Hotel” Tuesday and Wednesday, talking mostly while Daddy drank a bunch of beer. Then we hung out at “The Sandbox” until Friday morning, Dad kept making phone calls but he wouldn’t tell me to who.” Junior concentrated, remembering to keep his story consistent without sounding rehearsed. “After that he dropped me a couple miles from here and took off, said he would drop me a line sometime. I’ve been hanging out at the hunting shack since then. I was afraid to come home.” Ellen hugged him close.