Cave of Corruption

by S Mays

  ***

  The juvenile detention center wasn’t what he expected. The cells were similar to the small dorm rooms he’d seen when his mother took him to visit her alma mater for homecoming once. The difference was those dorm room doors didn’t lock from the outside. Another difference was the young men incarcerated here were called “residents” instead of “prisoners” or “inmates”. He wasn’t sure if it made any difference to those inside.

  On the first day, a large young man nicknamed “Jag” started an altercation, shoving Alexander’s head into a table in the lunch room. Jag explained that Alexander had to get permission to sit in the chair he’d chosen. Alexander apologized, and asked for permission, while rubbing the large knot that was already starting to emerge directly in the center of his forehead. Jag laughed and denied the request, then knocked Alexander’s lunch tray into the floor. Several residents nearby snickered. Things only got worse after that.

  In addition to the bullying by other residents, the intermittent nightmares that he’d been having since the incident intensified. First in frequency, then in intensity.

  He met regularly with Dr. Ollman as part of his rehabilitation over the coming months. Alexander looked forward to these sessions. Unlike the residents and many of the guards, Dr. Ollman was a kindred spirit, both socially and intellectually.

  ***

  “You looked exhausted, Alex,” Dr. Ollman remarked, closing his office door.

  “Yeah, I’m not sleeping well.”

  “The nightmares again?”

  “I can’t seem to shake them. Last night was the worst yet. I woke up covered in sweat and couldn’t get back to sleep until five,” Alexander explained, inspecting the numerous diplomas on the wall again. Alexander wondered if he would ever go to college now. It felt like if he managed to survive this experience with his sanity intact, it would be enough.

  “Why don’t you have a seat and describe your latest dream to me?” Dr. Ollman suggested.

  Alexander took a seat in the firm armchair, leaning over and resting his forearms on his knees, his hands folded together. He tried to recall his dream from last night. Recollection was always difficult, and the best he could ever bring back was bits and pieces. The sense of dread he felt upon awakening wasn’t tied to anything he could remember from his dream.

  “I’m back in those woods, running endlessly, but I don’t know where I’m going. It’s dark, and I can’t see, but something is either chasing me, or I’m chasing it. I can’t tell. Then I’m in the cave again, except the walls are melting or bleeding or something. I can’t find the way out. Then...then Natalie is there. Lying on the floor, her arms folded across her chest. I try and wake her up, but she won’t wake up.”

  “Then she opens her eyes, but they look weird or something. I can’t remember why. She opens her mouth to say something, but I can’t hear, so I lean in closer. Then her mouth opens wider and um, those spiders we saw in the cave slowly start to crawl out. I turn to run, but she grabs me and starts pulling my face closer to hers. The spiders keep crawling out of her mouth, as she pulls me closer and closer. That’s when I woke up,” Alexander said, his voice starting to become unsteady. He stares ahead, as if trying to look at his own memories.

  “Sounds like a doozy, and like the dreams you’ve told me about over the past year. What do you think it means?” Dr. Ollman asked.

  Alexander sighed. This was usually the point where the session became frustrating. When Dr. Ollman attempted to interpret the dream. He could tell the dreams upset Alexander tremendously, but he didn’t put the same weight on them that Alexander did. They were a result of a guilty conscience. If Alexander could more fully accept what he’d done, the dreams would fade. They were a result of failure to accept responsibility for Natalie’s death. Alexander felt they were something more though. He’d had hundreds of nightmares that he could recall over the years, but none affected him like these. There was a growing feeling of doom with each new dream.

  ***

  Time progressed slowly. Each year that passed felt like half a decade. Besides Dr. Ollman, he befriended no one else while there. Many were amicable enough, but he couldn’t relate to them. Pastor Jones tried to get him to talk many times, but he had no interest in finding Jesus. Alexander’s family wasn’t religious, and he’d seen religion twisted to serve man’s agenda too many times. For some reason, the chapel creeped him out as well. He felt like he didn’t belong with these people. He knew was a good person, despite what had happened. Other residents embraced the words of Pastor Jones readily. Some pretended to. The idea that a few words could erase all your misdeeds was very powerful.

  ***

  Due to lack of sleep and rest, Alexander’s health deteriorated during the following year. He lost weight, and as a result, was put on medication and a special diet. It was suggested he should start weight training to build muscle and to stimulate his appetite. Now seventeen, he weighed less than he did at fifteen. Unfortunately, his special treatment and requirements drew the attention of several others.

  In the gym, Alexander struggled to lift two small dumbbells. The others around him gave each other sideways glances, attempting not to smile or laugh. He knew they were ridiculing him. He was stronger than this back before he was incarcerated. He couldn’t put on any weight due to lack of sleep and rest, and his lack of appetite. Some residents said he was faking it for special treatment.

  He looked up in the mirror, and noticed Jag standing in the doorway behind him, smiling. Being locked in here was punishment enough; why did some feel the need to make it even more hellish? He looked at the cigarette burns on his forearms, and scar on his right leg. What torment awaited him today?

  “If it isn’t Alex, or should I say A-Flex?” Jag said, sauntering into the room, looking for approval from the others at his attempt at humor. On cue, they all chuckled nervously.

  “You’re in here all the time, but you get wimpier each time I see ya, bud. Are you doing those exercises backwards?”

  “I’m not doing anything, Jag,” Alexander said, averting his gaze.

  “Yeah, I can see that. Maybe you need some heavier weights. Let me help ya out,” Jag said, lifting a sixty-pound dumbbell.

  “That’s...way too much for me, Jag. I can’t lift that. You’re way stronger than I am.”

  “Hell, we all know that. I’m going to give you some tips though. Sit down on that incline bench, and I’m going to give it to ya.”

  Alexander sat as he was instructed. Jag held out the weight with one hand, attempting to impress the other guys standing around, but his arm was shaking slightly. It was heavy even for him. Alexander wouldn’t be able to lift it with both hands.

  “Okay, so take it, bud. You lift weights like these, you’ll get big like me.”

  “I said I can’t lift it. Just leave me alone, I don’t want to be like you,” Alexander said, not thinking about how the words would be interpreted.

  Jag’s face hardened, his eyes sharpening. He had expected a drawn-out show, humiliating Alexander without any opposition. This was making him look bad.

  “You think since you’re taller than me now, that you don’t have to do what I tell you? You better take it, chump. My hand’s getting tired,” he growled, his arm dangling the dumbbell several feet over Alexander’s legs.

  “Just put it back, Jag.”

  “I tried to warn ya,” Jag said, releasing the weight. Alexander screamed.

  ***

  “We pieced the patella back together, and you should be able to walk again in a few months, but there is going to be significant pain, and you’ll probably need a cane or a brace once your physical therapy is over,” Dr. Reyes said.

  Alexander’s family had been allowed in for this consultation. His dad inquired, “for how long will he need a brace or assistance?”

  Dr. Reyes paused a second before answering. “Most likely indefinitely.”

  The sole benefit of having his knee shattered was he no longer had to mingle wit
h the general population at the detention center. The negative was the agonizing pain, and the fact his painkillers caused him to sleep more, resulting in more chances of nightmares.

  They were vivid before the incident, but now they had become almost impossible to distinguish from reality. Sometimes he saw figures or shadows out of the corner of his eye when he thought he was awake. Sometimes he thought he saw Natalie. He only had to make it another seven months and he’d get out of this place. If he managed to last that long.

  ***

  He was leaving a visit with a physical therapist weeks later when he ran into Jag again in the hall. Jag appeared from around a corner, as if he’d been waiting. “I’ve been lookin’ for ya, man. Wanted to let ya know that was real smart of ya, not squealin’. That means I don’t have to break your other leg.”

  “Why do you hate me so much, Jag? What have I ever done to you over these years to deserve your scorn?”

  “‘Scorn’ - see, that’s why we don’t get along. You think you’re better than me. You think you’re smarter. Just because you use words like that and got grades. Yeah, I know all about ya. I got my ways. But I got news for ya: you ain’t better’n me. You killed that bitch, and you are messed up inside, just like the rest of us. You might know more about books, but you don’t know nothin’ about what it takes to survive. Some weak, stupid ho is the only kind of person someone like you could ever take out. You ain’t no fighter, like me.”

  “Natalie was more of a fighter than you’ll ever be, Jag, or should I say ‘Laurence’. She was smarter, stronger, and she’d kick your ass if she was here now,” Alexander growled, his knuckles white from gripping his crutches tightly.

  Jag kicked his left crutch out from under him, causing him to fall to the floor. Pain shot through his knee. He gasped in pain. “Yeah, well if she was such a badass, why ain’t she here now?” Jag sneered, walking away.

  Tears welled up in Alexander’s eyes and the world flipped upside down. He felt like he was about to vomit. He watched Jag turn the corner that he’d hid behind. Movement from the far end of the hallway caught his attention. Something was out of the ordinary, but the room was too dark to see into properly. Then, part of the darkness moved. A hidden figure melded back into gloom of the room. The silhouette was visible for only a split second, but it seemed so familiar.

  “Nat-Natalie?” he called out, scrambling to his feet. He limped down the hallway, waves of dizziness washing over him. He called out again as he hobbled into the room. It was empty. There were no other exits.

  “Great, my body is falling apart, and now my mind is finally cracking too.”

  ***

  That night, he tossed fitfully in his sleep, ripping at the covers, kicking and mumbling incoherently. In his dreams, he was again in the cave, but this time Natalie was not in the front section. He saw the blue light flickering out from the crack in the wall, which was a new development for his dreams. He squeezed through quietly, trying to hear what was in the next room. Something crawled across his neck. Reaching around, the spindly legs of a spider caressed his hand.

  He yelped and brushed it off, but he was quickly swarmed with them. Thousands of them crawling over every inch of his flesh and down into his clothing. One of them bit him, which struck him as unusual, as this type of spider didn’t normally have strong enough fangs to pierce human flesh. The small bite was followed by torturous agony, as they all bit in unison. It felt as if he was instantly engulfed in a scorching flames or acid. He screamed and kicked, but was now lodged tightly in the wall due to his panic. It felt as if he was dying.

  A shadowy figure leaned in from the other side of the wall, grabbing him. It violently jerked him into the now blinding room, whispering, “come”.

  He was awakened by a blurry figure yelling, “come on!”. The person yelling was attempting to pull Alexander from his bed. Alexander blinked rapidly, trying to focus on the room. The panic from his dream intruded back into his mind before he could gain his bearings.

  Examining his body, he was relieved to find he was free of spiders.

  “Come on, Alex, it’s Jag!” the young man shouted at him. Alexander tried to remember his name. Ron? Tom? He was one of the smaller guys that Jag liked to torture. John — that was his name, he decided.

  “Get up!” John shouted, then dashed out of the room.

  Alexander followed him out into the hallway after grabbing his crutches, but lost sight of frantic young man. People were rushing down the hall from all directions. He followed.

  A small crowd gathered in front of one of the cells, everyone whispering excitedly to each other. One of the guards was holding the crowd back, trying to keep them from looking in the room. He shouted for them to return to their rooms. When Alexander drew close, the crowd quieted, some of them stepping away to let him move closer.

  John whispered to him, “yo, man, it’s Jag. He’s dead, man. They found him like that this morning. Ain’t natural, man. All twisted up and white. Got thousands of little red dots all over him, man, looks all shriveled up like a damn mummy.”

  Alexander hesitantly peered around the doorway as best he could and saw one gnarled hand grasping upwards in the air, as if trying to ward off or hold something. The rest of the body was covered with a sheet, while several people inspected the room, jotted down notes and snapped photographs.

  “I said get back to your rooms. That means everyone!” the guard said louder, this time looking at Alexander. He limped backwards a few steps, then returned to his room.

  The doors on all rooms remained locked the rest of the day. Meals were brought around, but it took much longer to disperse them in this manner, so he was famished by the time the knock finally arrived at his door. Officers went door to door throughout the day taking statements. They were particularly interested to learn of the past conflicts between Alexander and Jag.

  “We saw what happened in the hallway yesterday on the security cameras,” the investigator stated, after twenty minutes of general questioning.

  “You think I did this?” Alexander said defensively.

  “I didn’t say that,” the officer said, looking at Alexander’s leg and crutches. “In fact, the cameras show you were in your room all night, and your door never opened.”

  “What-what happened to him?”

  “That’s what we are trying to piece together. It looks like he had plenty of enemies, but your name keeps coming up...”

  “Who said that?” Alexander asked.

  “I can’t say. We’ve still got a lot of people to question. This is an open investigation. We’ll get back to you. Don’t talk with other residents about this or try and stir anything up. Get some rest.”

  ***

  That night, he woke around one. An unknown occurrence had interrupted his slumber. Halting his breath, he listened. A slight shuffling came from outside his door. The door clicked and opened.

  “Hello?” he asked, leaning up in bed. There was no response. Putting on his pants and a t-shirt, he hobbled to the door, peering into the hallway. Only silence greeted him. Grabbing his crutches, he walked out of his room, checking both ends of the long hallway.

  “Alex.”

  He jumped and looked to his right, expecting to see someone beside him or slightly behind. Turning in a circle, he searched all around him.

  “Alex.”

  Again, it was to his right, but now from end of the hall instead of directly in his ear. He recognized the voice, although it was altered slightly.

  “Nat? Lord, I’m dreaming again.”

  This was a new dream sequence. Usually the dreams started in the woods or the cave, and he wasn’t aware it was a dream until near the end.

  Curious to see where this new dream would lead him, he headed down the hall towards the origin of the voice. Turning left, he continued down the connected hall. At the end was a metal security door. He started to turn away, when the locking mechanism disengaged. The door opened into pure darkness. Waiting a moment for his eyes t
o adjust, he entered.

  He couldn’t make out much of the room, forcing him to feel along the walls to find his way. It was a difficult process on crutches. The end of one crutch stubbed something on the floor, causing him to almost fall forward. He then noticed the texture of the wall was rough and cold.

  Looking back, he saw the security door slowly close, leaving only a sliver of dim light at the bottom. He laboriously knelt to feel the floor. He was back in the cave again.

  Just when I thought things might get interesting, he lamented, back to the same old nightmare.

  Previous dreams had followed a pattern, but he couldn’t predict which template this dream was following. He scanned the darkness for the faint traces of the ghostly light from the fracture in the cave wall, but saw nothing. Limping in the general direction of the hole that he had visited in his dreams hundreds of times over the years, he felt along the walls until he found it.

  Even if it was only a dream, he wasn’t keen on being attacked by thousands of arachnids again — the pain was too realistic. He turned to walk away when he heard her voice.

  “Come.”

  Squeezing through the rock in the pitch-black darkness stirred fear deep within him, but his curiosity prevailed. This dream followed none of his previous visions, and the idea of something new was exciting. Once or twice he thought he felt the long, slender legs of the cave spiders dance across his bare flesh, but his hand felt nothing when he batted at the phantoms of his mind.

  No light penetrated the chamber. The darkness was oppressive; the silence deafening. His senses strained against nothing, attempting to locate anything to tether him back to reality.

  He recalled reading about similar experiences in sensory deprivation chambers. What would happen if his mind drifted away from within his mind? He inched forward on his knees, his crutches left in the other room. He blindly probed ahead, savoring the physical contact with the familiar polished floor, until he contacted the raised edge of the pool. Lifting his arm, he touched the cold water. He relaxed and let his mind wander.