***
They cautiously approached what they assumed to be the front of the house—the side facing the highway.
As they drew closer, the sun’s reflected rays lost their power and the glass construct came into better focus. If it was a greenhouse, there was nothing inside it. They could see clear through the building. From its base to its peaked roof it stood perhaps one hundred feet tall, but its length was difficult to judge. All four sides and the angled roof were transparent crystal, nearly invisible and untouched by dust or blowing sand.
“You’ve been this way before,” said John to Leggy. “When you were running freight. You never saw this?”
Leggy shook his head. “There’s no way I would’ve forgotten something like this.”
“When’s the last time you made a run out this way?” asked Derek.
“Shit, must be…twenty, thirty years,” said Leggy.
“So it’s less than twenty years old?” asked Derek.
“Maybe,” said Leggy. “Though I suppose if we passed it at night, we would’ve missed it.” The old man scratched his chin.
“You mean if you weren’t passed out drunk,” said Derek.
“I never drank on the job,” said Leggy stiffly. “Least, not enough to impair my scoutin’.”
Teddy, still amazed by the structure, walked around it, leaving smudgy handprints, which quickly disappeared, all around its exterior. The glass appeared quite solid.
The others watched Teddy knock on the panes as he walked the perimeter of the house. His gait grew more assured, his knocks louder and harder against the transparent walls. He looked back at his audience, grinning, and smiled through the glass at them as he turned the second corner, which Leggy guessed to be about twenty-five yards away.
Teddy leaned forward to rap heavily, and stumbled as his hand met no resistance. He fell into the house. The others startled and raced around the corner to his aid.
***
Teddy lay on the floor of the building, just inside.
John carefully felt the wall and found that an ovular, door-sized entrance was cut from the glass. It was nearly imperceptible to the naked eye, such was the pure crystalline quality of the structure.
Derek stepped inside to help his brother. The floor was a polished mirror, and looking down into it, Derek could see himself looking back up. He was shocked by the wild face that stared back at him—the dirt and grime etched into his brow, a tangled beard, and the grim expression of a haunted man.
Teddy clambered to his feet. He and Derek began to cautiously explore the seemingly empty interior. Walking was careful, tedious work. The floor reflected the empty blue of the sky above, and their brains refused to believe they were on solid ground.
After a careful inspection of the interior, Derek and Teddy discovered, almost by bumping into it, the building’s one interesting structure. A crystal staircase, nearly invisible, was set in the exact center of the room. It spiraled up to the roof, and it spiraled down through a shaft that opened in the mirrored floor. The edges of the shaft were glass-smooth, and its diameter was an exact fit for the circular staircase. The shaft was too deep to see its bottom.
Derek put a foot onto the first step.
Teddy grabbed his arm. “Don’t go down, Der. It’s scary. And I won’t fit to go with you.”
It was true. The diameter of the shaft wouldn’t admit Teddy’s bulk.
“I ain’t goin’ down, Teddy. Not yet anyway,” said Derek. He glanced at the ceiling. “I’m goin’ up.”
Derek ascended several dozen steps, but was forced to stop when he reached the peaked ceiling. He felt around for a hatch or opening of some sort, but could find nothing. Eventually he gave up and returned to the floor.
“Nothing up there,” called Derek to the others, who hesitated in the doorway. “So I guess we see what’s down there.” He began to descend the stairs.
“Now hold on just a damned minute,” Leggy called, but Derek ignored him.
Teddy whimpered.
“Well, he can’t go down there alone,” said Magdalena. She stepped inside and walked smoothly to the center of the house. She felt for a stair, and put her hand on the center column for a guide.
***
John glanced back and forth between the group outside and those inside. Magdalena was already on her way down, her body disappearing beneath the mirrored floor. Teddy was beginning to cry. And to John’s dismay, he could see activity on the horizon—skeins of sand spiraling up from the ground in miniature funnels, propelled forward by currents of air. He tapped Leggy on the shoulder and pointed.
“Oh, shit,” Leggy snarled, “That’s a sandstorm brewin’. Wait!” he called to Magdalena, but she had already sunk out of sight. “Mother of fuck,” Leggy cursed. “Come on fellas, we gotta try and squeeze these animals inside before we all get shredded by that storm.”
The sky darkened. Lightning flashed . The sand on the ground outside the glass house was already being disturbed by the increasing wind.
John looked over at the strange hole that Magdalena had just descended—the hole where she was all alone facing God knew what. Alone with Derek.
He moved to enter the structure when Leggy put an arm on his shoulder.
“Hold up there, John. We got to get everyone inside first. Teddy seems to be out of commission, and I can’t wrangle these mules inside by myself.”
John looked toward the staircase again, then turned back to help Leggy off his donkey. The old man scampered inside, then turned to Samuel.
“Come on, youngster, you and that dog get in here.”
Samuel obeyed, guiding Sheba through the opening. The dog whined, disoriented by the mirrored floor. Her paws slid on the smooth surface. Samuel led her several steps into the house, and rewarded the dog with a strip of jerky. Sheba huddled against the boy, gnawing at the meat, her sides trembling slightly.
“Now the mules,” said Leggy.
John grabbed Afha’s bridle and tugged. The beast walked up to the house but wouldn’t step inside. John strained at the reins, but Afha set his hooves into the sand and would not be moved.
“Teddy,” shouted Leggy. “Quit your cryin’. We need you over here.”
Teddy lumbered over, wiping his eyes and nose with a dirty sleeve.
“See if you can give him a push while I pull,” said John.
Teddy stepped outside. The sky was purple and gray, and the air was alive with a hissing wind. Teddy squinted against the gritty sand that swirled through the air. He wrapped his arms around Afha’s midsection and heaved. The donkey brayed, its ears flat against its head, and the beast stayed put.
“Goddamit,” said Leggy, as the two men struggled to budge the beast, “if those mules don’t get in here the storm’s gonna strip the flesh right off their bones!”
“Wait,” said Samuel. “I think I know what to do.” The boy ran back outside. He staggered in the surging wind, and unstrapped a bedroll from Minna. He ran back inside, and unrolled the blanket.
“It’s the floor,” said Samuel, shouting to be heard over the gale. “The reflection makes them skittish.”
“Good thinkin’,” said Leggy. “Hey Ted, get them bedrolls off and toss ’em in here.”
They quickly spread several blankets across the entrance. John tugged at the reins. Afha stuck his head through the door and put one hoof gingerly on a blanket. Once the creature was satisfied of its footing, it came inside without a fuss. Minna followed easily. Teddy came last, his cheeks raw, abraded by the gritty winds.
***
Sand was coming in through the opening, falling in drifts against the inner wall. Outside the wind roared. They moved away from the door, sliding blankets ahead of them to keep the mules moving. They made their way to opposite end of the structure, where they cower
ed in the corner as the sandstorm unleashed its full power.
Leggy watched, pop-eyed, as the storm squatted directly over them, lashing at their shelter like a screaming child intent on smashing a toy castle. Dark clouds of desert particles shrieked against the glass ceiling, the glass walls. Gusts of wind blasted through the opening, carrying stinging grit to their eyes, ears, and mouths. Cannon shots of thunder battered the crystal frame. Leggy was certain the whole structure would shatter, and they would be shredded to bloody bits by infinite shards of glass and sand.
Teddy howled in absolute terror. Samuel buried his face in Sheba’s fur, and both boy and dog whined and trembled. Only John had eyes for the crystal staircase, and the black pit where Magdalena had descended.
***
Magdalena counted fifty steps before she met up with Derek. Her fingers and her ears told her they were in a narrow shaft, the circumference of which exactly fit the staircase. In the closeness of the shaft, the rank smell of Derek’s dried sweat and unwashed clothes struck her like a blow.
“Can you see how far this goes down?” she asked.
“No,” said Derek. “It’s getting darker as we go. I can see maybe a dozen more steps, and then it’s black as night.”
Magdalena opened her mouth slightly. She caught the gentle motion of cool air wafting up from beneath them, and, perhaps, a distant hum. But otherwise she could hear nothing.
“Why’d you follow me down?” asked Derek.
“Because I wanted to speak with you, in private.”
“Go ahead, then.”
“Does John know?”
“Know what?” Derek asked.
“Know that you laid with me?”
“No,” said Derek. “And I’m not gonna tell him.”
“What about the others? Your brother? Nicodemus?”
“Teddy was asleep. Leggy’ll keep his trap shut.”
“And the boy—do you think he can truly read minds?” she asked
“Hell if I know,” said Derek. “Nothin’ we can do about it if he can.”
Magdalena was quiet for a long moment. “You understand then that I—that I’m going to be with him? That I’m going to be with John?”
“Sure,” said Derek, gritting his teeth and continuing his descent. “I had my jollies.”
“And those nights in my home?”
“The old lady sold you for a poke,” said Derek. “I had my fun. Now we’re done.”
Magdalena frowned. From the direction of Derek’s voice, she could tell he was not looking at her.
“And now…?” she asked.
There was a soft rasp, the sound of steel slipping from leather. Derek had drawn a knife.
“We keep goin’ down,” he said.
“I’d rather go back up,” said Magdalena
“Suit yourself,” said Derek.
Magdalena listened to the sound of his steps as he descended. Then she turned and began to make her way slowly back up the stairs.
***
Above, the storm raged on. A jagged pitchfork of lighting licked out from the black clouds. Then another and another. The flashes had a strobe effect, freezing the storm for a moment of time. In those instances Leggy saw each individual grain of sand, pausing in their mad swirl around the edges of the crystal house. The sand gave shape to the wind, tracing the coiling vortices of its movement, becoming skin to its invisible sinews. Beneath the cold fear Leggy felt awe, as if the designs of nature had been revealed to him for an instant.
“Look,” he said, prodding John. “It’s beautiful.”
***
John had no eyes for the spectacle. He fixed his attention on the crystal stairs and the dark hole. His belly was tight with fear—of the storm, yes, and for Magdalena’s safety, yes, but another note hummed on, striking an anxious chord in his guts. If she had gone down by herself, or with Teddy, or Leggy, this third note would not be ringing. But she was alone in the dark with Derek.
Ever since their boyhood, John had deferred to Derek—after all, Derek was stronger and more clever, and there were advantages to letting him lead. It was Derek who schemed new ways to fill their bellies. It was Derek who fought off the camp bullies who would’ve preyed on John. But in the pattern of their lives, John had come to understand two things: Derek resented what others had and Derek always took what he wanted.
John had been content to live with these conditions until Magdalena had joined the group. For reasons not quite clear to John, Magdalena had chosen him over the others. Though he was pleased with her choice, the geometry of the group had been altered, and John was keenly aware of the change. Before Magdalena they had been a band of brothers, uneasy ones sometimes, but brothers. But now, with the addition of a woman, suddenly they were men.
John had mulled over the new equation. Teddy did not worry him. The man-boy blushed furiously if Magdalena even addressed him, and he had welcomed her into the encircling arms of his simple loyalty. Leggy had a chivalrous streak in him, a quality that John had been surprised to see shining through the rude hide of the old goat. His talk was still inappropriate with a woman present, but John knew the old man would never try anything without Magdalena’s consent.
But Derek.
Derek never even spoke to Magdalena, barely acknowledged her presence. At first John thought it was because Derek was upset to have a woman join them. But then another idea took root—perhaps the effort that Derek put in to ignoring her meant she was ever present in his mind. And now Derek had her to himself, alone in a dark, strange place.
The anxiety in John’s guts became too much. “Damn the storm,” he shouted. “I’m goin’ down!”
“Wait!” called Leggy.
At that moment a fork of lighting struck the peaked roof. Lighting ran along the crystal frame, and the walls thrummed with electricity. Tingling energies ran from the soles of their feet up to their heads, making their hair stand on end. A blast of noise rocked the structure, and the house itself suddenly went opaque. The transparent glass turned to sheets of cold white. Even the mirrored floor had been transformed, like a frozen pond under a dusting of snow.
The noise of the storm cut out, leaving the travelers in a ringing silence.
“What the Hell?” said Leggy.
“Look,” said Teddy. “The door is gone!” He pointed to the place where they had found their way inside. Now the wall stood unbroken, the opening vanished. They were trapped. The air inside was still, no wind could penetrate.
John ran to the stairs. The spiral staircase still stood, but the stairs ended at the floor. The shaft had vanished.
“No,” shouted John. He fell to his knees and banged on the floor with his fists.
“Magdalena! Magdalena, can you hear me? Magdalena?”
Chapter Twenty-Five
“The stairs end here,” said Derek, speaking over his shoulder. “I’m standing on a floor, and there’s some kind of archway.”
“Can you see anything?” asked Magdalena. She had tried to go back up the staircase and found the way blocked, and so had returned to Derek.
“No. It’s still too dark.”
Derek waited as Magdalena made her way down the last few stairs to stand next to him. He felt her put a hand on his shoulder.
“I’d guess we’re in a large room or open space,” she said quietly. “The air is cool and fresh. Can you feel the way it moves?”
“It does feel cooler down here,” he said. “Hey! Hello?” Derek called loudly. A faint echo returned to them, filled with distant reverb. “A very large room,” he agreed.
“What do we do now?” she asked.
“I’ve got matches,” he said. “I’m going to risk a light.” He took a match from his pocket and lit it. The head sputtered to life. Derek winced against the pinpoint of flame for
a moment, then held the match out in front of him. He was relieved to find that his eyes still worked. The match cast a tiny halo of light, enough that he could see his hand, and Magdalena’s face. But by itself the match was too weak to penetrate the deep darkness, and they had no better idea of where they were.
The orange flame ate its way quickly down the matchstick, singing his fingertips before he dropped it to the floor, where it sputtered and died. Darkness covered them like a black hood. The sulfur smell of the match was sharp in the air, and suddenly he realized what a target he’d made of them.
There came a sharp crack of noise. Derek’s fingers trembled on the railing of the spiral stairs.
“What the Hell?” he said.
At that moment the room filled with white light and a burst of discordant music. Derek flung his arms up over his eyes. White patterns and shapes danced behind his eyelids.
As suddenly as it had begun, the music stopped. Derek dropped his arm and blinked owlishly against the bright light.
“What happened?” asked Magdalena. “What was that?”
“Somebody turned on the lights,” said Derek.
“What do you see?”
“Not much. Everything’s kinda hazy and white. But we’re in a big…bunker, or warehouse or something. Really big. I—”
Derek stopped. He heard footsteps—hard, heavy feet clocking against the smooth floor, coming toward them out of the bright haze. Magdalena swiveled toward the sound, unslinging her rifle from her back.
“Who’s there?” shouted Derek, knife ready in his hand. He peered into the cavernous room, his eyes still adjusting to the bright glare of a million overhead lights.
“Greetings,” a voice answered. “Welcome to your new home.”
***
Wasteland Blues Page 21