Bottled Abyss

by Benjamin Kane Ethridge

  Janet blinked in shock. Her red light hadn’t changed. The left green arrow had and cars were still turning, some of the drivers ogling the dumbass parked halfway into the intersection.

  She picked up the bottle, which had fallen under her legs. Somehow, nothing had spilled on the floor. More bizarre was that the top of the brim quivered with brown fluid, threatening to spill over the sides. Janet stood the bottle on the passenger seat. The correct light now changed green and she proceeded cautiously.

  The skull headed coin caught her eye as she drove on. She despised this one like she did the other that had come from her throat, but at least now there would be a coin to leave behind for Faye and Evan.

  Except…

  Janet’s plans had changed. There would be no hanging. She couldn’t even consider doing it, just like she couldn’t think about taking a single drink again.

  There would be no suicide.

  She was trapped here.

  FURY

  Jerry’s whining at me and just wish I could clout him one against his curly little head—such a self-serving, little faggot—

  Must find that Ancient Greece and Rome Numismatic book after the last parents leave today, probably in the garage, with the rest of my forgotten college days, my Lord—what a poor, ignorant woman you are Jan-Jan, to just give something valuable up at a mere suggestion—it’s sad, but some people just let the world drive right over them and instead of blaming their lack of survival instincts, blame a complete bystander—

  Jerry’s still at it, god how annoying—

  “I told you already—Young people who don’t clean up their messes, don’t get to have rewards—”

  “But I did clean up, Mrs. Horrace— I always clean up— She gave the coin to me—!”

  “You always clean up—? Ha—! And are you yelling at me—?”

  That drops it for him, then—see, it’s the same thing with pathetic kiss-ups like Jerry—he could press the issue, but he doesn’t—he lets me win, lets me walk all over him—it will be happening his entire life, Lordy—

  Almost time for Mozart’s Musical Mastery—should get some different song books later when I go out to the garage, these songs are getting boring to play—don’t feel like bending over the piano today—stupid session anyway, none of these pricks even pays attention, all they care about is running around and blowing snot rockets—

  Coin has a strange texture and that tiny dot—bet I could see what it was with the magnifying glass, if that douche-sack Sarah Hines hadn’t broken it—

  Bowels are tricky again—have to go and try one more time at relieving myself—guts feel so packed—hate that bathroom—too damn small to do anything in—

  Mean to set the coin down, but take it into the bathroom with me—oh well—can study it some more—no way is this thing a fake—who would be in the market for a replica drachmae anyway—? A film company—? A museum might want it for an example— so weird that All-Boobs and No-Brains got her hands on something like this—just a freak mistake—seems Janet’s whole life contains those—Lord, that’s so mean—

  Sitting on the toilet feels better now that the hemorrhoids have calmed some—heart’s all aflutter though—sort of dizzy now—don’t want to clench so hard this time, all that damn nacho cheese sauce last night, that’s what this is about—

  See something behind the shower curtain—it looks like a person in there—is there anything to protect myself with—? What is that—?

  It’s not moving—could it be some towels that Rosie left piled up in there—? Looks so—

  Stretch out my arm, muscles tingle and burn, and grasp the side of the plastic shower curtain—still, the tall thing standing in the tub behind doesn’t budge—glide the curtain over, at a bad angle to do this—the curtain rings catches on the rod, have to tug—

  A surging wind crosses through the bathroom—my hair flails as it passes—a force of power, the anvil of a God, drops down—

  The toilet bowl shatters with the driving downward energy, my hair and scalp are ripped away along with ribbons of my scrubs, my ribs crush my heart, my left hip bone explodes and my leg is compressed so flat it looks cartoonish on the bathroom tile—

  An airplane has fallen on me—what else could it be— Christ Lord, my body has been smashed as flat as the floor—how do I still breathe—? Look up to the ceiling and my dangling jaw disconnects from the tendons holding it in place—no hole, no airplane fell—nothing has come down through the roof—try to scream but everything is broken inside me—

  The shower curtain moves aside—a scaled, bloody hand—the form revealed is also scaled, a monster of reptile and shark with the limbs of a powerful man—the creature is injured though—black seeps from its jelly eyes, its scales are tearing away and raw with pus, the gums around the shark teeth are mottled with black and red decay, and inside the shark mouth a human mouth speaks with parched lips flecked in blood—

  “What were three are now one, and I am Fury—” it coughs—

  Moaning, whimpering, sounds emerge as words, I can speak—!

  “I don’t want…to die—”

  “You have a chance to stay my vengeance,” says the Fury—the smooth voice sounds optimistic but weakened— “Do you know the song—? The song my heart wants so badly to hear—?”

  The room darkens—have I fallen and hit my

  head—? Can’t be dying for real, can I—?

  “While Styx has gone dry, new waters run and the God has reinvented herself—I belong to the old waters and will perish soon enough—so tell me, who gave you this coin—? Where is he—?”

  “Coin—?”

  Brain heats inside my cracked skull—“Her name is Janet Erikson—” Look to the counter, my cell phone—“Her number is in there—”

  “I will use this—” says the Fury, reaching for the phone—

  “Will you help me—?”

  “Can you sing my song—?” it asks—

  “I know lots of songs—”

  “Do you know mine—?” Blood dribbles from its fish eyes, the bathroom lights reflecting soft pale globes in their black center—

  “What is… it—?”

  “Your unnatural theft is punished now—” It reaches forth and slides a coin onto my tongue—

  “But Janet gave me that coin—!”

  Something inside me has held back until now, keeping me alive—this creature, this Fury monster, has been containing everything from flowing out: my organs, my fluids, my lectures, my music, my wish to learn all the great composers by heart, my dream of a man to love me for my body, plans to see Shakespeare in the park, to take a tour of Italy, to feel young again, everything, every little thing, all things Renee Horrace—but now the Fury lets them loose—feel them slide and slither out of my lacerated stomach—can hear pounding little fists on the bathroom door—two holes tear open in my heart and I hear blood spilling over the tile—feel the coin growing cold on my tongue—hear my faint breathing—hear the Fury fading from the room with its own scream of anguish—hear the high pitched voices of children outside the bathroom; imps rejoicing over my final moments—hear so many things for somebody who is dying—truly—can even hear the sound darkness makes when it finally holds you.

  10

  It happened much how it had with Sam Gerdes, just not as quickly for some reason. Janet pulled into her driveway and experienced the “passing” sensation again, but it wasn’t the young boy Jerry who traipsed through her mind. It was Mrs. Horrace.

  The passing thrilled Janet’s every nerve and reminded her faintly of the joys of alcohol, but the sensation was a different monster, more striking than drink but not as enduring. Like so many other things she couldn’t explain right now, this scratched at the back of her mind. She resolved to visit Sam, maybe tomorrow morning, and see what had become of the coin since it had fallen into his possession.

  Her body trembled. She tried to calm her breathing and think. The passing, however puzzling, was much welcomed after coming
to grips with this new development.

  She opened her eyes to the disorderly garage and could see it from here, coiled up above the washing machine. That rope had been her exit strategy. She’d almost been craving it earlier today, sitting in that daycare. Good dependable rope—that beautiful final door in a house of horrors and now she was too terrified to pull the handle.

  The idea of her neck snapping was bad enough to consider, but strangulation? She didn’t want to imagine her lungs collapsing while her lips turned blue and body struggled through ensuing shadows. And here was the bottom line: if she couldn’t have booze, pills or asphyxiation, then she couldn’t have the death she required. All other methods were too awful to entertain and now those she’d once coveted as “tolerable ways to die” were just as horrendous.

  She was trapped. She would have to live out the rest of her life.

  Janet glanced at the repulsive coin, at the wondrous bottle. This was a dangerous attraction she’d developed. She decided to leave both items in the truck.

  Time to straighten her head a little.

  Faye had left the house, probably to go looking for her. Janet would take advantage of any spare alone time in her home while she could.

  Or thought so.

  Evan waited in the living room. He sat on the couch with his hands folded. A stack of papers sat on the coffee table before him. On seeing her, he sprung up. “Oh, it’s you Janet. I glad you’re home. You didn’t take your cell phone.”

  “I needed to be alone.” Janet put her wallet down next to her vase of wilted flowers and pointed to the papers. “What’s this?”

  Evan’s eyes darted behind his glasses. He couldn’t look her in the eyes and began to nervously scrub behind his neck. “I thought Faye and I—well, it was going to happen eventually. I was hoping you both would come back here together, so we could do this all at once.”

  Janet read the document’s title. “These are divorce papers.”

  “Yes.”

  “Get rid of them. You’re not divorcing Faye.”

  He crossed his arms. “Oh, I’m not?”

  “I won’t let you do that to her.”

  “I don’t love her.”

  “Evan, why are we talking about this craziness?”

  “Because,” he attempted to reach out and Janet moved back, “Faye’s a robot and Herman’s run off. We’re the only two decent people left in this equation.”

  “No, we’re the assholes, and you are the bigger one.”

  He snorted as she swept up the divorce papers and cleanly ripped them in half. Heading at once for the trash can, Evan was hot on her heels.

  “It doesn’t matter if you tear that up or the next one after it. It doesn’t change how I feel. I’m still going to tell her. I’ve made my choice, with no regrets.”

  Janet tossed the papers into the trash and covered them with an emptied Styrofoam meat tray containing a banana peel lying inside. She went to the sink and washed her hands. Evan regarded her with quiet resolve.

  “I’m not trying to upset you. You need somebody now. Faye hasn’t ever needed me. I’m—I can make you happy, Janet.”

  Janet hatefully dried her hands on a towel, before tossing it into the sink. “You’ll make me happy if you’re good to Faye and the baby. Seriously Evan, with Melody and Herman and the bottle…”

  “Bottle?”

  “Nothing.”

  “You mean alcohol?”

  “Yeah…”

  Evan took the back of a chair and braced himself, his eyes far away. He cocked his head and his face tightened. “You just made me remember something Herman said, on the day he left. He was rambling, but he said he’d gone on a walk—which obviously wasn’t true, because his truck was left here—but he mentioned he’d be back with a bottle. What was he talking about? I thought he might mean medicine. Did he mean medicine? Hey, Janet, you okay?”

  Janet walked over to the dinner table and sat opposite of Evan. She blew into her hands to warm them. “Is it cold in here?”

  “Not really,” he replied. “Want me to get you a blanket?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “So what did he mean?”

  “What?”

  “Herman. What bottle? This doesn’t have anything to do with Josue Ramirez does it? Herman really didn’t go Death Wish on those people…did he?”

  Janet took a deep breath. Her lungs rejoiced; it felt like the first air she’d ever breathed. Everything was so different now without the imaginary noose around her neck waiting to become real.

  “I have time to figure this out now,” she whispered. “So, I’m going to find out. What happened to Melody. What happened to Herman.”

  “I’ll help.”

  “No, you won’t,” she promptly retorted. “Don’t worry about me anymore.”

  “But—”

  “But nothing. I don’t want your help Evan and I don’t want you. I’m not sorry for that either.”

  He looked down at his hands and took a deep swallow. “I still have to tell her.”

  Janet leaned forward and fixed on his weepy eyes. “No you don’t.”

  A car pulled up in the driveway and they both turned their heads at the sound. Evan jumped at the sound of a door slamming. Lester barked at quickly approaching women’s flats on concrete.

  Evan went into the living room. His voice was positively unconvincing to Janet, yet she knew Faye wouldn’t detect a single false note. “Honey, she’s here. She’s fine. Just wanted to take a drive.”

  Faye came into the kitchen and clobbered Janet with a tremendous perfume-infused hug. “Don’t do that to me, babe. Please don’t do that.”

  “Never again,” said Janet. “Sorry, I wasn’t thinking straight.” She hugged her back tightly.

  From the threshold of the living room Evan evaluated them, his face blank.

  The phone rang just a little after midnight. It was Mrs. Horrace’s number. Through groggy eyes, Janet examined the illuminated screen. She didn’t want to take it, but it might have been about Herman.

  “Hello.”

  She could hear animal breathing on the other end.

  “Hello?”

  “I am Fury.”

  “What? Who is this?”

  “You are Janet Erikson.”

  “Okay…”

  “You must stop using the bottle’s waters.”

  She cleared her throat. “What bottle?”

  “The same bottle your husband died trying to steal.”

  The words smacked her but she retaliated. “Are you some kid from the Horrace daycare? Did you steal Mrs. Horrace’s phone?”

  “Bury the bottle in desert.”

  “Look, if you know where my husband is—”

  “His body lies at the place where the waters once receded.”

  “I’m going to hang up and call Mrs. Horrace’s home number now.”

  “The longer you wait, the more people suffer and die. I don’t belong to these new waters and am dying slowly. I cannot help you much longer. You must bury that bottle deep in the desert.”

  Janet took a calming breath. This person was too insistent to be a child. “Bury it? And I suppose you’ll choose where, so you can go dig it up later? Right?”

  “I want nothing.”

  “Well here, have some, jerk!”

  She ended the call and slammed the phone down on the nightstand. With everything she possessed, Janet screamed into her pillow, seeing images of Herman falling through her mind. Her husband wasn’t coming back. This person on the phone knew as much and hadn’t played around with the fact.

  But wait up… Herman had told Evan about the bottle, so he must have come back to the house for it while she was in the hospital—but what happened after that? How did the bottle end up with Lester? Did Herman go off somewhere else on foot? The voice on the phone said Herman’s body was on a riverbed somewhere, but what riverbed? Some place out in the badlands?

  Janet searched the gloom in her empty bedroom and something oc
curred to her. The memory came back: Lester carrying a branch in his mouth all day long at the lake. Herman, Melody and Janet thought it hilarious he wouldn’t put it down. In fact, they laughed harder as the day went on and the dog wouldn’t relent. Herman started calling it the Staff of Lester. They’d seen the Border Collie carry things in his mouth, but not something as awkward as the thick tree branch and definitely not for so long.

  Melody had eventually tried to pull the branch away from Lester and he actually pulled back on it so hard she fell down. Herman swatted the dog on the butt and he sheepishly released his prized possession.

  Janet nodded. The gate had been open that day when she found Lester with the bottle. She got up, went to the window, and lifted a few blades of the Venetian blinds and peered out into absolute dark.

  She whispered to the desert, “Lester went with you, didn’t he, He-Man? Were you hiding the bottle out there?” She let go of the blinds, uneasy with all the nothingness before her. “Why wouldn’t you tell me?”

  That was a dumb question. She’d been so out of control at the time, she probably wouldn’t have shared anything like this with her either. Even in the present, Janet was keeping the bottle a secret from Faye and Evan, who, for all their faults, she could confide in. So, it made sense Herman hadn’t spoken to her about it.

  He had tried though, hadn’t he?

  I’ll get you the magic water like I did for Lester. Hold on baby. Hold on!

  He must have buried the bottle in the desert and Lester, not knowing any better, dug it up and brought it back home.