The Cellar

by Peter Fugazzotto

  He clutched the dashboard with both hands. "My service is crap. No signal after we pulled off the main highway."

  I leaned forward into the steering wheel. The wipers were almost useless. Rain blurred the window. The headlights seemed unable to penetrate even more than a few feet in front of us. We were barely moving.

  I glanced at Jay. He chewed his lower lip.

  "We'll get through this," I said. "It'll get better."

  My hands were cramping from holding the steering wheel so tight. My shoulders hunched. Sharp needles of pain drive into the side of my neck. All I could hear was the waves of pounding rain and my own roaring breath.

  "Any motherfucker out there, I'll just run him over."

  "And then back up over him for good measure."

  The laughter eased the tension.

  Branches ticked and scraped against the side of the car and windows, dragging the gnarled hands of some old bog witch.

  We reached the end of the drive, and the wheels suddenly lost traction, the car lurching sideways. I gunned it and we popped out of a watery ditch.

  Jay whipped his head behind us. "The road's a mess, man. How did it fall apart so fast?"

  "Feels like I'm driving in a swamp."

  "Where did that girl come from? Maybe we should have stuck together. Left her in the cabin."

  "Too late for that now. Let's just get help."

  The main road was a little better, but with all the water flooding the surface, it became clear just how bad of shape the dirt road was. I had noticed all the rocks and ruts when we had driven up earlier but I didn't think of it as anything more than a bit of an off road adventure, a chance to finally put the all wheel drive mode to work. I wondered if anyone else was even up here. I imagine that they must have known that the storm was coming and hightailed it out of here. Either that or they were just buckled down in the face of the elements.

  "Not the relaxing weekend I was expecting," muttered Jay.

  We were finally together without being at each other's throats. It almost felt like I was back with the old Jay, the one who I had once thought would be my closest friend for life. I wondered what life would have been like if we had stuck together as solidly as we had promised that we would. Would I have taken a different turn? Would my life not be falling apart because of his advice?

  My thoughts were interrupted by a sudden sheeting of rain against the windshield. The water exploded with such fury that I had to slam on the brakes. The wipers whined furiously but could not clear the white blanket from the windshield.

  "Never should have come up here. Not this time of year." Jay gripped the dashboard so hard that I thought he would tear chunks from it.

  "We'll figure this out. We'll get back home. Everything will be okay."

  Jay suddenly laughed maniacally. "Don't think so! Home's the last place I want to go now. Everything back there is messed up." He laughed again. "Never thought I'd ever say this, but I'm going to need to hire somebody like you so I can stay out of jail."

  The rain weakened and I punched the gas. I could see the outline of the bridge through the curtain of rain. We were close now. A little farther and then we would be across and back into town. Get to the bar or the gas station, let them know what was going on, and then wait for the comforting sound of sirens and flashing lights.

  Jay chewed his lower lip furiously.

  "Tell me what's going on, Jay. What happened?"

  "Stop! Brakes!"

  I whipped my head back around to the road in front of me. The river had jumped its banks and swallowed the bridge, only the tops of the rails visible.

  I stomped my foot hard into the brake pedal, and I could feel the wheels locking up, but even so the car continued to slide towards the fast-moving water. It was deep now. If we rolled onto the bridge, the engine would be flooded, but worse than that I couldn't tell how high the water would go, whether we would be able to get out, whether the car would be swept away.

  I shoved my foot against the floor, so hard I was afraid that the brake pedal would snap in half. The car slowed but still we skidded.

  Jay screamed. Blood filled my mouth where I bit my tongue.

  Then the car stopped, the front wheels in the water, the hood angled so that the water danced across the tip of it, like some great beast gone to take a drink. I slammed the car into reverse and punched the gas. The wheels spun for a moment, desperate for traction, and we slipped forward before the tires gripped the ground and we shot backwards away from the water and disaster.

  "Jesus fucking Christ, man." Jay clutched his head. "We almost died."

  My jaw trembled and my breath roared, unable to come back to a normal rhythm. I backed the car up into a wide part of the road and pointed it uphill.

  "Where are we going?" Jay asked.

  "Back to the cabin. We can't get across the bridge. We gotta figure something else out."

  25

  "I messed up," said Jay sitting beside me in the SUV.

  I wanted to give him my full attention but the rain was coming down fiercely and I was forced to crane my head forward, close to the windshield and the madly swishing wipers, to make out the road in the beams of the headlights. My jaw trembled. I felt like I might have missed the driveway.

  "You don't want to know?" he asked his voice suddenly whiny.

  "The road. Trying to concentrate. Did we miss the house?"

  He jabbed a finger forward. "There's the sign. We turn there."

  "Sorry. What'd you mess up? It can't be that bad."

  "One of my students," he said. "I'm sleeping with her. Got her pregnant."

  "Jay, you gotta be kidding me. Why would you ever do that?

  Laughter bubbled out of his lips. "Just like out of a movie of the week. The bad teacher preys on his teenage student. Lures her into his web."

  "How bad is it? Who knows?"

  "No one really knows yet. Well she does. Ha ha. But it's finished, man. I told her it's over and she's not taking it well. She doesn't want to get rid of the baby. She doesn't want to stop seeing me. She's got this whole elaborate plan about what's going to happen, and how's she going to have the baby, live with her rich grandma, and once she turns eighteen we can finally get married. But that's not going to happen. That can't happen."

  "Can you reason with her?"

  "I started to tell her that I wasn't so sure about her plan and you should have seen the look in her eyes. Daggers, bro. I've met her parents before: loaded, well connected, and also not what you would call good people. They're going to want to see blood on the streets. Won't be happy unless I'm in jail."

  "How old is she?"

  "Sixteen."

  "Fuck, Jay." I wanted to say something, to give him advice or comfort, but he had blown it. I stopped the car in front of the cabin, letting the headlights shine on the peeling panels for a moment before cutting the lights. I stared across the darkness at the silhouette of Jay. "We'll figure this out. Figure something out."

  But even as I said those words I knew I was lying. He was in deeper trouble than I could help bring him out of. He had messed up his life and I doubted there was anything that I could do to save him.

  26

  I stood shivering just inside the cabin. Even though I had slammed the door shut hard behind me, I felt as if a cold wind pursued me, snuck behind my collars, pulsed under my cuffs.

  "The bridge is flooded?" asked Tug again. He stood in the kitchen, the gun bulging beneath his jacket.

  "How many times I got to say the same damned thing?" asked Jay. He stormed into the kitchen, poured himself a shot of whiskey, and threw it back. "Yes, the bridge is flooded."

  "No way we can get across it?"

  "It's covered in water. That's what flooded means."

  "Did you try your phone?" asked Lipsky.

  "Look, Lipshit, I had no service in town. What makes you think I'll have service even further out."

  I pushed into the cabin, blowing on my hands and rubbing them together. "We're n
ot getting out of here until the rains let up. And then the waters need to recede. Too dangerous trying to get across the bridge."

  "There's gotta be other people trapped on this side too," said Lipsky.

  Jay was pacing at this point like a caged animal, turning quickly, brow furrowed. "Anybody with half a brain would have cleared out of here long ago. It's gotta flood every year. What the hell were we thinking coming up here this time of year? Are we just stupid?"

  I laid a hand across his arm. He felt as if he were burning up with a fever. "Jay, sort it out. You're not helping the situation. You need to relax. We came up here for Dave. We all came up together. This was the time to honor him. We had no choice."

  He tore his arm away and returned to the kitchen table. "Wrong. We always have a choice. Just like Dave had his choice, and we made the stupid choice to come up here. Sometimes we just make the stupid decision. Now we're trapped by a flooded river, a crazy naked girl in our cabin. Remember her? We got problems." He poured himself another shot and drank it quickly.

  "We'll just go to a neighbor," said Tug. "People live up here all year long. Find someone with a phone. We call the police and then we sit tight."

  Jay sat on a stool now, eyes blurry but calmed by Tug's plan. It was reasonable. We'd find somebody up here who could help us. Better than us running around trying to figure out what to do.

  "But the girl..." said Lipsky.

  "Two of us stay here. Just like before."

  Lipsky walked over to the bathroom door, listened for the girl for a second, and then came back to us. "No, I mean ... she came from somewhere. She didn't just come out of the woods." He gritted his teeth. "She probably came from one of the other houses up here. We go knocking on doors is all I'm saying ... might not be good."

  We all froze. I heard nothing but the steady ticking of the cuckoo clock on the wall, and I kept waiting for the bear to pop out of the door, and the chimes to sound and all up us to jump out of our skin, but it never did, and instead fear gathered in me like an ever-tightening spring, tighter and tighter, unable to be released.

  Tug poured four shots of whiskey and pushed glasses in each of our directions. He waited until each of us choked down the burning liquid.

  "I'll go to find help from one of the neighbors," he said.

  "I'm with you," said Jay. His courage was false, held up by the booze. It would drizzle out.

  "Back in the sandbox, I sniffed out insurgents," said Tug. "I went door to fucking door in the worst slums you could ever imagine, and they knew I was coming. They rigged doorways. They hid in the shadows with knives. They stared down long rifles at my head. This ain't no different." He laughed. "Country bumpkins. I didn't survive desert hell to die in the woods. You boys don't worry about a thing. Anybody poses a threat, end of that somebody."

  "I got your back," said Jay.

  "So, me and Skip stay here? With the girl?" asked Lipsky. He furiously rubbed the bridge of his nose beneath his glasses.

  Tug pulled out his pistol and then shoved it back in his waistband. "We'll be back in a little bit. Get everything sorted out. Don't worry about a thing."

  He snatched my keys from the kitchen counter and the two of them disappeared into the dark storm outside. I watched them go and then closed the door. It resisted my pushing almost as if the wind was warning me of the things to come, warning me that I should just run, as fast and as far away as possible.

  But instead I wedged myself against the door and slammed it shut, alone in the house with Lipsky, the girl, and the ticking of the clock slowly marking time.

  27

  I stood by the door of the bathroom and listened. I turned back to Lipsky.

  "She hasn't come out at all?"

  "I heard water running. I knocked on the door once to check on her, see if she wanted any food, but no response."

  I put my palm on the handle.

  Lipsky backed away towards the kitchen and the axe by the fireplace. They had brought it in from the woodpile while Jay and I were gone.

  "Why don't we just wait?" asked Lipsky. "How's she going to help us?"

  "I want to check on her. Make sure she's okay. She was covered in blood."

  "I think that's a bad idea. You don't just open doors." He had retreated behind the kitchen counter.

  I knew another shot of whiskey would not give him liquid courage. He never handled his liquor well. He had a drink, maybe two or three, and we would find him curled up asleep on the couch. He didn't even really like drinking so he was often the designated driver.

  I rapped my knuckles on the door. And again. No answer. I turned the door handle. Locked.

  "You okay in there?"

  She answered the third time. "You should have run. I never should have stopped. He's going to find me. Find you." Her voice broke into a sound that I could not tell whether it was a whimper or laughter.

  She would not talk anymore and she would not come out.

  Eventually she would have to.

  I found Lipsky back at the kitchen table. He was putting away his Dungeons and Dragons pieces. He had a nice wooden box where he carefully organized his dice and the small lead figurines.

  "They don't make them like this anymore," he said. He held up Karmerak, Dave's old character, and turned it in the light. "Look at the detail. Nowadays most of the figures are cast in plastic. Cheaper to make. Mass produced by machines."

  "I'm pretty sure the metal ones were mass produced too."

  "Just different." He tucked it back in the box. He kept a finger over it. "Not sure Karmerak will ever be played again."

  "Did you talk to Dave much?"

  Lipsky shook his head. "So sad. A wife and a kid. I can't believe we're old enough that one of us has a kid going to college. We used to sorta stay in touch on Facebook. He never posted much. Photos of his kid. Proud of him. Once in a while, he would comment on one of my DnD posts or send me a private message. Never a cry for help but always about how fun those days were and how we all had to get together again to continue the adventure. A return to the good old days. Guess this was it. Not what I imagined." He pulled off his glasses and wiped the backs of his wrists over his eyes.

  I blinked away my tears. "I felt like I should have done more. I should have stayed in touch. Been there for him. We were all great friends. When we were kids."

  "Too late for that now." Lipsky closed the box and laid both hands over it. "You should come up to Seattle and visit me. You talk about it. I got a good group of guys up there. I run games three nights a week in my shop. A few old farts like you and me but a lot of young guys, kids really, starting to play. Makes me feel like the years haven't passed."

  "I'll come up. We'll play," I lied. I had no interest. I wanted to. I wanted to see Lipsky and Jay and Tug and spend more time with all of them. We were halfway through life and before we knew it, another of us would die from cancer or a heart attack or some freak accident. I knew that the sand was falling fast through the hourglass, but I also knew that any promises were lies. I wouldn't change. I had my life. What lay ahead in that part of my life was more enticing than crawling back into the past. How could I tell my dearest friends that I only valued them for the wash of sentimentality, that the euphoria of seeing them would pass, and I would soon be bored with the lives they had chosen to pursue?

  I felt like an ass. I felt like shit for thinking that. But it was who I was, and I was not going to lie to myself about some rosy-glassed future.

  I needed this weekend to be over. The storm to stop. The roads to open. The girl to be taken away from us.

  I needed to get back home.

  The front door slammed open. Tug stood in the doorway, wind and rain whipping him, his sneer lit by the yellow light of the cabin. Then he ducked into the house, Jay on his heels, the door shuddering shut behind them.

  "Did you find someone?" asked Lipsky.

  "Trees across the road," said Tug. He stomped mud off his boots. "Went up to the next house. No one there. We're going to nee
d to wait out this storm. We're stuck here."

  28

  "I can go talk to her," said Jay. "I'm used to working with kids. They open up to me."

  We gathered in the living room and stared back at the closed bathroom door behind which the naked girl had hidden herself away. Outside the rain pounded the roof.

  I thought about Jay and his teenage girlfriend. I wasn't sure he would be the best one to talk to her.

  "I'll do it," I said.

  The house smelled even stronger of must now as if the rains had awoken some kind of spore that had laid dormant in the house, waiting for the coming moisture, sucking in the water so that it could fruit. Each breath was thick as if laden with mold dust. It made me want to breathe as shallowly as possible, to avoid inhaling deeply.

  I reached the door and looked back over my shoulder. The three of them stood expectant, legs wide, knees bent, gazes on me, as if they expected a beast to burst from the door.

  I knocked. "It's time to come out."

  No answer.

  "The thing is we're going get this door open one way or the other. You can just unlock it or we're going to kick it in. Tug, he's good at kicking doors open, but then it's going to be broken and we won't be able to close it properly again. And that's just a shame. Someone's going to have to come out and fix the door. In this old house, hardly seems worth the effort. So why don't you just come on out?"

  I counted breaths. I was starting to turn back to the others when the girl spoke.

  "The door's not locked." Her voice was calm now and I could hear a natural huskiness in it, and she spoke with a slow, measured pace as if picking the right words while walking through a stony field. Even in those few words, I pulled out a remnant accent from the South. So far away from her home now.

  The door creaked on its hinges. I stepped in and closed the door behind me.

  She sat on the edge of the tub, naked but for a towel draped across her lap. At her feet lay the other towels, pink with the blood that she has washed from her body. I could not take my eyes from her. I should have looked away with some sense of propriety.