Powerlines

by Kurt Newton

  She took off again. When she exited the highway, she stopped at a convenience store to use the restroom. She tried calling Ethan again, got service, but it went straight to voice-mail.

  "Ethan — when you get this, call me immediately. I'm really pissed, and really worried." She snapped the phone shut.

  She made it back to the rendezvous spot at one-fifty.

  Nothing. Like a cruel joke, like some stupid hurtful prank, Ethan wasn't there. He wasn't near the highway. He wasn't walking down from the power lines to the highway. As far as she knew he was still miles away injured or worse.

  A heavy weight began to press upon her chest, forcing tears to well up in her eyes. It was difficult to breath. Something was wrong. And it wasn't just the worry talking. It was her intuition. The same intuition that told he shouldn't have gone on this stupid hike in the first place. The same intuition that had helped her through so many situations in the past and was now screaming at her to go get help.

  "Ethan... If anything has happened to you, I'll..."

  She couldn't finish the sentence. She'd never been face with this question before. She didn't know the answer.

  She pressed down on her horn. Two beeps and then one long loud beep. She stared up into woods, anticipating the slightest movement. But nothing happened.

  Two o'clock.

  She took a deep breath and wiped tears from her face. She put the car in gear and pulled out into traffic. Horns blasted her as she nearly cut off a pickup truck.

  She drove down to the convenience store again and parked. Then she called her mother.

  "Mom?"

  "Hi, dear, what is it? You sound upset."

  "Mom, Ethan never showed up."

  "What do you mean?"

  "I waited for two hours. That's more than enough time. Mom, something's wrong."

  "Maybe he's just late."

  "No, Mom, something's wrong. I can feel it."

  "Okay, dear. What would like me to do?"

  "I don't know."

  "Come home, dear. We'll wait. Maybe he'll call."

  "Okay."

  Lindsey hung up the phone. As if on autopilot, she got back onto the highway heading east. When she passed beneath the power lines she glanced over across the median to the other side, hoping Ethan would be standing there. But he was nowhere in sight. And even though it was an irrational thought, she couldn't help but wonder if she would ever see him again.

  Elizabeth Richmond hung up the phone. It upset her to hear her daughter so distressed. But she was also pleased. She knew full well it would take days to organize a search party. And in that time a lot could happen — if it hasn't happened already. There were secrets in that part of the woods. Secrets only a select few were allowed to know. Secrets her husband, when he was alive, could tell no one — except maybe his loving and devoted wife.

  18

  Natchaug State Park Ranger, Richard Knox, had just finished his first donut of the morning when Lindsey Richmond walked into the station. He didn't bother to get up from behind his desk. He had just sat down. The donut crumbs were still fresh on his chin. "Yes, miss, can I help you?" he said, expecting a complaint about the outhouses or to be asked directions to the nearest liquor store.

  "Are you the person in charge?"

  "Now, for some, that's a debatable question." Knox smiled, his moustache tickling his nostrils. He had had the mustache for thirty years of his fifty-five year life and it always seemed to tickle the ladies. But he could see that this young woman was in no mood for levity. "Yup, I'm in charge. What's the problem?"

  "My boyfriend's missing."

  "Missing?"

  "He left on Friday to hike the power lines and was supposed to meet me at noon yesterday. I waited but he never showed. I'm really worried."

  Hike the power lines? Son of a bitch.

  "And I suppose he was alone when he attempted this incredible feat?"

  Lindsey nodded. Knox figured as much. He got up from behind his desk and walked up to the counter. "First off, did your boyfriend know that a utility right of way is restricted property, and that he can be arrested for trespassing?"

  "He wasn't hurting anyone. Fifty miles in three days. That's what he said. He thought it would help him get his head straight."

  "Well, that was damn foolish of him."

  Knox grabbed a pad and pen and began writing. "You say he was supposed to meet you at noon yesterday?"

  "Yes."

  "Name?"

  "Lindsey Richmond."

  "I meant the name of your boyfriend."

  "Oh, sorry. Ethan Morales."

  "Ethan's age, height, and weight?"

  "Twenty, five-foot eleven, one hundred eighty-five pounds."

  "Description?"

  "Dark hair, dark eyes."

  "Did he have any contingency plans?"

  Lindsey looked confused.

  "In case something went wrong? Was he carrying a rescue beacon? Flares? A flashlight? A cigarette lighter?"

  Lindsey thought for a second. "He had his cell phone."

  "He had his cell phone." Knox shook his head. "I suppose Ethan thought the light from his phone could be seen from the air."

  "Can't you just look for him? Please...he's probably hurt."

  He's probably dead, thought Knox, but his job wasn't to speculate. His job was to open the park, close the park, and throw people out if they got out of hand. His job wasn't to go looking for a missing hiker — an unprepared, inexperienced hiker who thought it would be "cool to hike the power lines" to get his "head straight."

  "There's something wrong, I can feel it," said Lindsey.

  Knox felt bad for the girl. She looked like she had some sense. Unlike her boyfriend. "Have you contacted the police?"

  "Should I have?"

  Knox shook his head again. "Is it possible your boyfriend changed his mind and never went on this hike?"

  "No! I dropped him off myself and watched him climb the hill. You didn't see the look in his eyes. He was determined to do this. Are you going to help me or not?"

  "I'll tell you what, Miss; I'll drive out to the access roads and take a look around. Leave your name and number. If he turns up, I'll give you a call." Knox turned to go back to his donut.

  "That's it? You're not going to send out a search party?"

  Knox laughed. "Miss, if you want to file a missing person complaint with the State Police, go right ahead. But I would just sit tight."

  "Sit tight? He could be hurt...he could be in trouble..."

  "If he doesn't show in a couple days, then we can take this matter to the next level."

  "Two days! You don't seem to understand. It's not like Ethan to do something like this. He has a job. He was supposed to go to work today. His mother is worried sick that he hasn't come home. Something is wrong. I know it. If you're not going to help me, I'll call the television stations. I'll ask for volunteers myself. I know people. I can be very persuasive."

  Knox could see that. He looked into the eyes of this young woman. There was a genuine concern and sincerity there. This wasn't a lover's quarrel. Her boyfriend may very well have met with an unfortunate event.

  He checked his watch and took a deep breath. He knew he was going to regret this the minute he said it.

  "Twenty four hours. It's the best I can do. I'll notify the State Police and call in the volunteers. If your boyfriend stuck to his route, he should be pretty easy to find."

  "Thank you, Mister —"

  "Knox. But most people call me Ranger Rick."

  "Thank you Ranger Rick." Lindsey wrote down her name and number and left. When Knox read the name he followed her outside.

  "Richmond?"

  Lindsey stopped. "That's right."

  "If you don't mind me asking. Your mother wouldn't happen to be Elizabeth Richmond by any chance?"

  "Yes, why?"

  "When you see your mom, tell her Ricky Knox said hello."

  Knox watched Lindsey leave. He then turned toward the forest.r />
  The thick trees stood before him like a natural barrier, an impenetrable wall behind which things occurred far away from human eyes.

  Not another one, he said to himself. He pulled out his pouch of chewing tobacco and stuck a thick wad in his cheek. Saliva flooded his mouth and he spat onto the unpaved drive.

  Fuck me...Fuck me all to hell.

  Ethan gazed at Lindsey as she rode him. The two of them lay naked on the floor of the Route 44 Diner. The movements of waitresses swirled around them. Patrons ate their breakfasts, their conversations a soft echo chamber of meaningless noise. Lindsey groaned and ground her hips, taking him deeper inside of her, and all he could do was lie back, fascinated by the beads of sweat forming on her tanned skin. As her orgasm built to a shuddering crescendo, he watched a single bead run down from between her breasts, gather in size and momentum until it reached the soft fuzz of her belly, where it landed with a splash in the hollow of her naval.

  Ethan awoke. He sat up slowly. He was embarrassed to find that he had ejaculated in his jeans. He couldn't remember the last time he had had a nocturnal emission, probably not since high school. He looked around the enclosure disoriented.

  He didn't know if it was day or night. Time had unraveled inside his head and was spinning away like the arms of a spiral galaxy. So far he had dreamed of his brother twice, both times so vividly he doubted if his waking consciousness inside the room was the dream or vice versa. And now this dream of Lindsey.

  He eyed the empty food bowl at his side. He reached down and skidded it across the floor. Several times now he had awakened to find meals left just inside the doorway. The first was a steaming bowl of vegetables with butter and salt. He was so hungry he had downed it in seconds. With the bowl was a pitcher of water. Both the bowl and the pitcher were made of stainless steel. The doctor wasn't taking any chances. His second meal was oatmeal, two slices of cinnamon toast, and an apple. As if by magic, the dirty bowls were removed and fresh bowls left in their place. Based on the meals, Ethan estimated he had now been held captive two days.

  Aside from the food there was nothing. No piped-in music. No intercom conversations with the good doctor. "Good morning captive...how are we feeling today?" No board games. Not even a deck of cards. Just the room; the grey-colored concrete room. And the hum: a low, perpetual, almost imperceptible sub-vibration that emanated from every corner like surround-sound. The only reason he knew there was a hum was because it was missing from his dreams.

  He had determined the room was climate-controlled. Or perhaps the room was below ground and insulated from the summer heat. It was not uncomfortable. What was uncomfortable was the hard floor. He had slept on floors before, at a friend's house, but there was at least a minimum of a carpet to act as cushion. His body ached when woke.

  To combat the muscle fatigue, Ethan had begun to exercise. Simple stretches and running in place to get his heart beating and his muscles loose. He figured eventually the doctor would come. Eventually, the true purpose of his being there would be revealed. If the doctor had wanted him dead, he wouldn't be feeding him. Ethan was thankful for that much.

  He ran his fingers along the collar around his neck, feeling for anything in its smooth surface that would tell him what it was. The doctor had talked about "taming" him. Taming him the way he had tamed the wolf? Was his idea to turn him into some kind of docile creature, one he could manipulate as easily as a dog? If so, the good doctor was mistaken. The doctor couldn't read his thoughts. The doctor could only gauge what he saw. Ethan could play the part, perhaps fool his captor into thinking he was his pet, and when the doctor lowered his guard, he would be ready.

  It would be like James had said.

  James, his brother, who was probably wondering right now where the hell he was and why was he making their mother sick with worry.

  Pike sat at his computer terminal reviewing the morning's observational data. The dictation machine he used near the pit monitors converted speech into text and then transferred the information automatically to his computer's hard-drive. The conversion process was 99% accurate. While 99% was good, it wasn't perfect. After reviewing the data, he added:

  Overall, in a little over 48 hours, the subject has made great progress. I have slowed the Conditioning Phase so as not to repeat the poor results achieved with previous subjects. Visual warning signs will be interpreted and responded to much more quickly, thereby lessening the chance of hyper-acuity.

  Pike saved the file. He was about to get up but changed his mind. He sat for a moment staring at the monitor. There was a small icon in the shape of single blue eye. He moved his mouse over the eye and clicked.

  A picture slide show filled the screen. Image after image. The face of a young woman dominating the scenery. She was not unpretty. She wore a natural look. Angular nose, a small mouth, and blue eyes that looked through you and yet kept their secrets. Dirty blond hair parted in the middle and worn mostly flat, tucked casually behind the ear. In winter pictures that hair shot out from beneath a white knit cap like wispy blond wings. In other photos, those wings took flight. Sailing off the coast of Cape Cod. Driving in a convertible with the top down. And how that small mouth knew how to smile. And those blue eyes... Whether lit by candle or firelight, those eyes were what Pike remembered, and missed most. So clear and yet so unfathomable. They were the puzzle he could not unlock, a formula he could not solve. Maybe that was the reason why he never tired of looking into them. It was like gazing into the mysteries of the universe.

  The slide show ended, fading with a dissipation of pixels. Pike continued to stare at the eye icon. He took a deep breath and spoke the word, "Anna." The word came out as more of a sigh than speech.

  He got up then and, with renewed energy, left his bedroom. He stopped by the Pit #3 monitor to see what his subject was doing. On the monochrome screen Ethan sat against the wall staring at the door. He was awake, one hand absentmindedly running its fingers around the collar around his neck. Satisfied, Pike continued on to the Recreation Room. Wolf lay on a small carpet near his food bowl. The canine lifted his head as Pike punched the door's keypad. "No, Wolf."

  Wolf's lowered his head back to his paws.

  "Good boy."

  Out of habit, Pike donned his white lab coat. The rats and rabbits eyed him as he walked directly toward the back of the room and stood over the Plexiglas sarcophagus. The young woman inside had dirty blond hair, and an angular nose. Though her eyes were shut and the size of her mouth was more average than small, to the casual observer she bore a striking resemblance to Pike's Anna. For Pike, she was Anna; an Anna sent to him to correct the error he had committed, to undo all he had done. She was his second chance at life, at love, at finally making things right.

  "Anna," he spoke again. This time the word was filled not with the emptiness of a sigh but with a small measure of hope.

  Lindsey was on the phone the minute she got home. She called her friend Hayley, hoping she would accompany her as part of the search party.

  "Sorry, Linds, my parents are flying in from Lake Tahoe tomorrow and I need to meet them at the airport."

  Lindsey didn't know how true that was, but Hayley wasn't her only friend. She called Kirsty.

  "Oh, I would but I can't, my mom's taking me shopping for a new car."

  Car shopping? The search for the perfect car was more important than the search for a friend's missing boyfriend. Fine. Lindsey knew her friends viewed the world as if it were a reality television show, but she thought when it came to affecting one of them, things would be different. But she must have been wrong.

  She called Saga. At least she could count on Saga. Saga had virtually no friends at all outside of their small circle.

  "In the woods? But I'm allergic to bees," Saga explained. "And I catch poison ivy just by looking at it. Sorry Linds."

  "No, no problem, I get it." Lindsey really didn't get it, but what could she do about it. She felt helpless. She felt abandoned.

  "I hope they find him,"
said Saga.

  "Yeah, me too. Thanks."

  Lindsey snapped her phone shut, then tossed it in frustration. It bounced off her satin comforter and landed on the floor. She appreciated Saga's honesty, but what the fuck? If any one of them had called her with a similar request, she would have been there no questions asked. Some friends, she thought.

  She stared at the phone resting on the carpet, not knowing what to do next, knowing if she didn't do something she was going to scream. There was one more person she could call. But she would have to swallow a hell of a lot of pride just to bring herself to ask.

  She got up and retrieved her phone, searched through the recent incoming calls, and found the number. The ring-tone "Stuck on You" by Finger Eleven entertained her until it abruptly stopped and a deep voice answered. "Hello?"

  Lindsey took a deep breath. "Jared? This is Lindsey; I've got a favor to ask."

  There was a long pause. "Is this some kind of a joke?"

  "No, just hear me out. My boyfriend is missing. Remember I said he couldn't be there on Fourth of July night?"

  "I guess."

  "Well, he was out hiking through the Natchaug State Forest. I dropped him off Friday morning and was supposed to pick him up on Sunday, but he never showed. There's a search party being organized for tomorrow morning. I would much appreciate it if you could help."

  Another pause. "Wait... You want me to help you look for your boyfriend who's lost out in the woods somewhere?"

  "Yeah."

  "I don't know."

  "What do you mean, you don't know? Hey, you owe me one."

  "How do you figure that?" Jared said. "If I'm not mistaken, I was the one who got slapped, remember?"

  "And you deserved it. You owe me for not telling everyone what a jerk you were."

  "Somehow I don't see this as making a case for why I should help you. What's in it for me?"

  "How about because it's the right thing to do? And because it will look good on your social resume. Girls like guys who do things out of the goodness of their heart. Even if they're just faking it. So, will you help me or not?"