The next day, Youslus set Teddy to work again. It was the hottest day yet. As the sun beat down on the prisoners, John found himself slipping in and out of consciousness. His head pounded from noise and sun. Was it heatstroke or something more sinister? His leg throbbed where the snake had bitten him. He had difficulty concentrating on the only task he had—namely, attempting to pry his lock open with the ring from a food can.
As he worked at the lock, his mind wandered back to Magdalena. He missed how she would lay a cool palm against his cheek, and the way her fingers had scanned his face, as if reading him. John wished she were here now—to bring him cool water to drink or to wipe his brow with a damp cloth.
He had read to her from his Bible while they sat together in the green pasture. No one had ever read to her before, she said. She said she liked the sound of his voice. She had listened intently to the Psalm of the shepherd, for she herself tended a flock. And she gasped in disbelief at the story of Jonah—how could there be a fish so big it could swallow a person? She had made John read that story over and over.
He regretted leaving her. And yet, he knew he had made the right choice. God had called him. How could he refuse that call and refuse his companions? It had been hard to leave her, but wasn’t God’s way always hard? Moses had wandered in the desert for forty years, the Elders said. How long would John and his companions wander in the Wasteland?
But first they would have to escape from here. Maybe they had failed already. Maybe this was their punishment, to be chained to a canyon wall until they died because John had been weak—because he had almost abandoned their quest for a woman.
These dark thoughts followed him down into a restless sleep.
He awoke to the quiet. After the near constant hammering of the Stone Biter, the silence was almost deafening. Youslus was rushing from his cave to the pit. John’s mind swam.
“What’s going on?” Derek called.
“Your brother passed out,” said Youslus, sounding annoyed. “Gonna throw some water on ’im. Git some food in his belly. He’ll be all right.”
But the old man sounded less than convinced. He descended into the pit, and after a quarter of an hour, Stone Biter started hammering again.
Chapter Eighteen
The prisoners lost count of the days. Youslus proved an efficient jailer. Empty food tins turned into receptacles for the prisoners’ waste. Once a day he’d toss the keys to Derek, who was instructed to unlock John and toss the keys back to Youslus. Then, covered by the shotgun, John would gather up the fouled tins and dump them into a nearby hole. Then the process with the keys and the lock would reverse.
Once, when Derek refused to toss the keys back to Youslus, the old man shrugged and pulled one of the triggers. The rock wall above Derek’s head splintered, showering the captives with bits of stone and smoke.
“Next time it’s your face,” said Youslus with a smile.
Derek tossed him the keys.
Meanwhile, Teddy had grown distressingly haggard. His arms and legs convulsed uncontrollably whenever he was not down in the pit.
***
Sleep did not refresh Teddy. He shook, and his hamfists clenched and unclenched, as if trying to control the powerful Stone Biter. Even in his dreams he struggled to keep the metal demon from escaping his grip and turning its hungry bite away from the unforgiving stone and back toward more delectable flesh—a booted foot or sweaty calf.
Stone Biter was a greedy, violent beast, weakening and deadening its captor’s muscles with endless pounding vibration. Teddy knew it was only a matter of time before it would taste flesh. The impossible metal contraption seemed to grin assuredly up at Teddy, metal teeth throwing sparks and chomping the granite and cement to bits as easily as it would bone.
Oh, it seemed to say, I’ll have you. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but I’ll have you.
When awake, Teddy’s eyes were dull and glassy. Derek had to yell in his brother’s ear to be heard, and Teddy complained of the endless ringing. It was beginning to affect his equilibrium, and when he walked he would often stagger and veer to the left or right of his intended destination, sometimes crashing tiredly into the valley walls or piled debris. The cruel hermit was working him to death.
The rest of the group fared little better. They roasted in the day and shivered through the night. Their bones ached from the hard stone. The cuffs had rubbed their skin raw, making even the smallest movements painful. They existed in a near constant state of hunger and thirst.
Afha and Minna had been relieved of their burdens and turned loose to fend for themselves. Each morning they wandered away to forage. At first Derek thought he’d never see them again, and he added the two mules to his tally of injuries. But each day the animals returned. Their fidelity was a comfort, but it did nothing to help their predicament.
As the first week turned into the second, Youslus grew increasingly agitated. While Teddy was making steady progress, no end to his toil was in sight. The concrete of the strange bunker proved thicker and deeper and more fortified than even Youslus would have predicted. The steel with which it was reinforced proved nearly impenetrable to even the godlike fury of the Stone Biter. The old man took to swearing anxiously under his breath, and shortening Teddy’s rest breaks. Once, Teddy heard him mutter, “Not sure what’s gonna give out first—Ted or my gas supply.”
***
The companions were growing frantic. The iron locks had proved impenetrable to their meager attempts at picking them, and the companions had no other ideas. In the absence of anything else, Leggy stressed patience, that they could only bide their time.
“That crazy fucker will make a mistake,” insisted Leggy. “Maybe leave the gun in our reach or turn his back on Teddy. We have to be ready to jump on Youslus when he does.”
Two weeks turned into three. The days now filled with a new sound—the guttural, animal wails and moans of Teddy rose above the beat of the Stone Biter. All day long he cried. He was dying.
Derek shut his dried and sunburned eyelids and thought only of escape.
Escape…and murder.
Chapter Nineteen
A broken bridge, larger than imaginable—spanning a deep valley as far across as the eye could see. Mist obscures the floor of the valley, thin white clouds drift lazily by far below.
He walks out as far as the failed bridge will take him, a quarter mile, a half mile…. His throat is parched and dry.
To the end of the ruined bridge he comes. It has been sheared off at its highest point, now just an iron and steel cliff hanging over the center of the enormous valley. Metal spires rise up on the bridge’s sides, rusted cables dangling and creaking in the wind.
The valley stretches on endlessly to either side, unfathomable in its depth. Clicking, chittering, snapping sounds—dulled by the wall of cloud—hint at unknown dangers below. Deep, rumbling moans roll through the mist like thunder lumbering across the valley.
A rusty, corroded girder balances precariously on the bridge’s edge. He grips the girder with his tired fingers (noting how withered they are, and dry—the skin is cracked and raw) and begins to shove. After a moment’s exertion, the tired metal moves. He uses this momentum to begin rocking the thing—forward and backward, over the lip of the cliff, in wider and wider arcs until finally it goes over.
Falling… Falling…
The girder breaks through the clouds below and disappears into the mist. There is no sound of impact. Only silence…
He sits down on the edge, his feet dangling over the abyss and waits. Waiting for what, he does not know. His legs hang over the broken abutment, he feels the rough concrete and steel on the backs of his thighs, warmed by decades under the hot, ultraviolet sun. Looking down at the mist that rises up from the valley to obscure the distant horizon, he feels as if he is sitting on the edge of the world.
Then, as quickly as it had come, the wind is gone. He stands and rubs the dust from his eyes.
The mist has lifted; the clouds have all blown away. Before him is a sight that is nearly incomprehensible—he’s seen pictures in books, but this was like nothing he’d ever imagined.
New York City.
Countless buildings, taller than mountains, loom on the horizon. Black and gray, brown and crumbled, many of them have long since fallen over, only to be propped at awkward angles, leaning heavily against their sturdier brothers. Had people actually lived in this place? From smashed windows and broken walls he imagines that he can see eyes: glowing, unblinking, ever watching.
Strange trees (some few nearly as tall as the skyscrapers themselves) have sprung up everywhere, blending with the buildings, taking root in the tarmac and cement, and gripping the shattered city in the clenched, wooden fists of their branches. Thick, evil vines have overrun the place, strangling the buildings, sprouting poisonous crimson leaves the size of caravans, twisting and tangling the edifices in their snakelike embrace.
But most terrifying of all are the heads. Carved onto each of the buildings are dozens of glaring, staring demonic faces. Piercing stone eyes, snarling grins, fanged teeth. Stark eyes, despondent faces, mouths frozen in painful agony. They silently smile, frown, laugh, scream and accuse. The shrill wind cuts through the city like the clamor of a thousand voices.
What is this?
He begins to tremble and shake with fear under the powerful gaze of the skyscraper totems. He closes his eyes and presses tightly to the ground, wishing that he could bury himself in the stone, make himself disappear. In the distance, a grinding sound suddenly pervades the air, the harsh scrape of stone moving against heavy stone. The sound is joined by another, then another. He opens his eyes, and his heart leaps into his throat. The gargoyle heads are slowly turning, grinding on concrete necks to gaze directly at him, to scrutinize him with their evil, apocalyptic stare. Those with mouths that were closed begin to open them. Chunks of stone fall from the buildings where the heads move, falling to the ground with a cacophony of sharp smashing, breaking, and crunching reports.
Hundreds of the heads, thousands of them, begin to turn in his direction. The sound of the grinding, breaking stone fills his ears, threatening to split his eardrums.
Then, just as suddenly as it had begun, all is silent.
He screams.
***
Derek awoke screaming, a desperate, burning thirst in his throat and a strange silence in the air. He shook his head, confused, wisps of nightmare still clouding his brain. Someone was yelling in the distance.
“Whoooooouuueeeee! It’s open,” shouted Youslus. “Open at last! Open at last!” Youslus appeared on the lip of the pit, leaping up and down and waving. “It’s open boys. Open. Teddy cracked a hole. Hallelujah!” He lifted his hand in the universal sign of okey-dokey. “Won’t be long now before we’re in. Yeee-haw! Where’s my lantern?”
Derek frowned. He was about to ask about his brother when Leggy interrupted.
“Well, aaall right.” Leggy smiled a wide, shit-eating grin. “That’s dandy,” he exclaimed. “Now, I know you’re not gonna keep this moment all to yourself—you’re gonna want some help bustin’ in there!” Leggy wrung his hands in anticipation.
Youslus stopped.
Leggy continued, “Bustin’ a hole with old Stone Biter is one thing. But widening that hole, getting inside…well, that’s a bird of a different feather.” He was speaking fast, not giving Youslus a chance to respond. “Widening the hole is careful work. You want to get inside, but you don’t want to cave the place in. Take it from an ex-hauler, I busted into more’n a few bunkers an’ vaults in my day, let me tell you.”
He paused. “You don’t want to damage the merchandise.” Youslus opened his mouth to speak, but Leggy cut him off. “’Sides, we got nothing to lose, now. We’re in! Won’t be long. Few hours most likely. A day at the most, maybe two. With five of us hammerin’ away, we’ll be in there in no time.”
“Enough,” Youlous said. “Wait here.” He grinned crazily, then turned and marched back into the pit.
Leggy’s smile instantly dropped. He looked grimly at the boys and spoke with deadly seriousness. “He’s gonna let us help him. He can’t wait. He wants to get in there now. He’ll let us help. Doesn’t think we’ll run, not when we’re this close.”
Derek squeezed his hands together and smiled coldly.
“No!” Leggy hissed at Derek. “Now you listen to me, and you listen carefully. He’s gonna let us go but most likely he’ll do it one at a time, so’s he can chain us up down in the pit. Don’t you jump him the second he undoes those chains, you hear me? You wait until we’re either all free or all down in the pit. I’ll choose the moment, Derek. You jump too soon, you’ll fuck us all—”
Youslus’s head popped up over the edge of the pit. “All right. You boys wanna help?” He grinned maniacally.
All was silent from down in the pit. Youslus climbed out and walked over to the three, a ring of oversized iron keys dangling from one hand, the shotgun held firmly in the other. “All-righty then.” He fit a key into Leggy’s wrist-cuff. “Ya get yerself down into the pit, Hauler.”
Leggy shot Derek a warning look then scrambled on his hands over to the edge of the pit and began to tentatively work his way down into it.
Youslus tossed Derek the keys and pointed the shotgun at him. “You unlock your friend. When he’s down in the pit, you can unlock yourself.”
Derek took the keys and unlocked John’s cuffs. John rose unsteadily and groaned.
“Little sore, are ya?” asked Youslus with a grin. “Don’t worry, that old Stone Biter and a little hard work will smooth you out. I figure the two of you can handle it if you work together.”
Derek’s heart sank into his stomach. “What do you mean, handle it? What about Teddy? What’s wrong with my brother?”
“Nothin’ a little rest won’t cure. In the meantime, you and your friend should get to work.”
John walked down into the pit.
“Go ahead then,” said Youslus, jiggling the shotgun at Derek.
Derek turned the key in his own lock and then stood as the chains fell from his wrists to the ground. He was free. He thought about Leggy’s warning, and then thought Leggy could go fuck himself. He measured the distance between him and Youslus. He readied himself to lunge. Just then there was a scream from down in the pit.
“Aw, no, Teddy, no,” Leggy bellowed. “Quick! Bring water. Aw, Teddy, don’t you die on me, now, Don’t die!” Leggy’s voice echoed back and forth between the steep valley walls.
Don’t die…don’t die…don’t die…
Derek broke into a run. Without looking he swept past Youslus and leapt into the pit. It was deeper than he had thought, certainly deeper than it had been the last time he had gazed into its depths three weeks ago. He landed hard, twisting his ankle and rolling awkwardly down the steep incline into a pile of debris and concrete dust. He could see Youslus’s hole, a dark opening into the interior of the bunker. It was no larger than a fist. And beneath the hole lay Teddy. The giant looked gaunt and pale. He was sheened with sweat, and blood ran from his ears and nose and from beneath his broken fingernails.
Derek hobbled to his brother. Teddy breathed intermittently in awkward, straining heaves. He was struggling to stay alive, fighting for
each breath, each moment of life. He lay on his back, eyes staring into the eternal blue above. Stone Biter lay next to him, seeming to grin.
“He needs water or he’s gonna die,” said Leggy.
Just then the giant’s body was racked with convulsion. His arms flailed uncontrollably at his sides. Leggy heaved himself on top of the boy, as if the frail weight of the half-man could possibly restrain the enormous child’s spasms.
“Get water,” Leggy yelled. And then, “Aw, easy there, Teddy, easy.” He brushed the boy’s ragged hair from his sweaty temple in a soothing, motherly gesture. “You rest easy there, big guy, just relax.”
Derek turned and found a rope ladder leading up the side of the pit. But before he could mount it, he saw Youslus and John peering down from the edge. John was holding a large canteen.
“Throw it down,” shouted Derek.
John dropped it over the edge. Derek caught it and ran back to his brother.
“I’m gonna kill him,” Derek hissed, handing the water to Leggy. “He’s dead. You just watch.”
“Not yet,” Leggy said, carefully placing the canteen at Teddy’s lips.
At first Teddy gagged and refused the water, but Leggy was persistent.
“There’ll be time for him later. Plenty of time. Don’t you worry ’bout that. But first, we gotta help your brother. It might not be too late.” Leggy shook his head. “It probably is, but it might not be….”
Unexpected tears welled up in Derek’s eyes, and he dropped to his knees before his brother.
“Oh, Teddy,” Derek urged, “Come on. You can do it, I know you can. You’re strong. Stronger than any of us. Take the water. Drink.”
Teddy gagged again. The convulsions had momentarily subsided and now the giant lifted his tremendous hand to push away the canteen.
Wasteland Blues Page 16