Foundations of Fear

by David G. Hartwell

  The trip to town was traumatic for both of them. Cora didn’t like lying to the doctor, and there wasn’t much he could do about Sally Ann’s teeth anyway. He filled two cavities, gave her a prescription for vitamins and calcium, and tried to get her to come back for dentures. Sally Ann knew he was trying to be kind, and he was more than curious about her appearance. She thanked him and they were on their way.

  She bought a new pair of jeans, tennis shoes, socks, several T-shirts, and a jacket. Clothes felt so binding. She also bought a child’s sweater, size ten, light blue and soft. Cora asked no questions. The worst of the trip was the way everyone stared. Cora introduced her as a friend from the city who had come to recuperate in the good country air, and people were nice, but they still stared. They stared at her face, her teeth, at the way she walked, and they kept their distance. By the time Cora and Sally got home, both were exhausted.

  The next day, the inevitable happened. After two months, Michael finally came over, to ask about Cora’s friend visiting from the city. He had heard from someone at church, and was hoping to get some information about a man he was working with on a land deal. Cora told him her friend was resting, and she was, but she was listening from the bedroom.

  Michael’s voice. Deeper now, but just as she remembered it. Could it hurt him all that much to see her? All these years of thinking of him, dreaming of him, wondering how he was faring. What did he look like? What had twenty years done to his face? To his body? Their voices were a murmur now; she assumed they had walked into the kitchen to talk, in order not to disturb Cora’s resting friend.

  Then he laughed. A hearty, resonant laugh, and her chest constricted with brutal force. What has he to laugh about? When was the last time I laughed? Oh, God, I want to laugh with him. Touch him. She got up from bed and put on her jeans and a T-shirt. She wrapped a scarf about her head quickly and put the tennis shoes over the bandages on her feet. She looked in the mirror and her heart fell. I can never let him see me like this. She opened the door a crack and peeked out.

  He was standing by the front door, ready to leave, when he saw the door open. “I believe your friend is awake, Mom. Do you think she’d mind talking to me for a minute?”

  Cora paled as she saw the door ajar. “Well, no, I suppose not, Michael. Let me ask her.” She walked over to the door, knocked, and went in. “What do you think you are doing?” she hissed.

  “Why no, I’d be delighted,” Sally Ann said loudly and pushed past her mother and out the door. She walked directly to Michael who winced as he saw her, then quickly recovered with a smile.

  “How do you do? I’m Michael Hixson. I understand you’re visiting from the city, and I thought you might know of a man by the name of Ralph Lederer. I’m thinking of buying a piece of property that he owns next to my farm and wondered if you had any word of his reputation.”

  He didn’t recognize her. She was lost for words. She was ready for his hurt, his anger, his denial, his love, his passing out and falling on the floor, but she was not ready for this! What to do? Should she say, hello, Michael, I’m Sally Ann and we have a son who is living in underground caverns like a bat? Should she throw her arms around him and kiss him and make him forget all about Maggie? Should she embarrass him and say, Michael, don’t you even recognize your own wife when you see her? Should she sink to the floor and hug his knees and say how long she’d been dreaming of this moment?

  She stared at him, then looked at her feet. “I don’t know, Mr. Hixson. The name is not familiar.”

  “Well, okay. I appreciate your time. You look a little pale. Maybe I shouldn’t have disturbed your rest.”

  “No, it’s quite all right. Please excuse me.” She returned to her room, shut the door, then leaned heavily against it.

  After Michael left, Cora came into the room quietly and sat on the edge of the bed. Sally Ann was strangely quiet. The experiences Sally had gone through had prepared her in some ways for things Cora couldn’t even dream about. “How about some lunch?”

  Sally kept her gaze steady on the ceiling. “That would be nice, Momma.”

  6

  Clint sat on the moss mattress and picked at it while he thought. He missed his mother. His eyes were swollen from crying, and his grief had given way to anger.

  “I don’t care.” The sound of his voice in the Home Cavern was hollow, but comforting. He knew she had made it; he had stayed by the hole in the wall and listened. He heard other voices, and the hole was invaded by a powerful monster, a presence that pierced his brain and knocked him back into the tunnel. It hurt his head. It was like a dream he had when he slept, where images danced around and said silly things and “looked” a funny way. He still didn’t understand “look,” but that’s what his mommy said. He lay there, frightened, until he heard the grating of the lid again and the monster was gone.

  There really was an “up there.” He had known it all along. He pretended he didn’t believe, because he didn’t want her to go. He didn’t want to go. He liked it here. There were things to play with and it was comfortable. Up there was strange, and he didn’t much like the stories she told.

  “Why would she go there? What’s up there that she needs? We have everything here. Why would she want to leave me?” Tears of anger again seeped out of his eyes, and he reached down to stroke himself, his only comfort. “I’d like to punish her when she gets back. Oh, yes.” The pleasure was intense. “I’d like to hurt her like she hurt me.” Faster. “I’ll hit her and pinch her and knock her down.” He thought he would burst. “And she’ll beg me.” His orgasm was violent, his whole body stiffened with the release.

  Afterward, he felt happy and free. He went for a swim.

  Every so often, he returned to the hole in the wall by the square rocks. She was never there. He felt lonely, he missed her, but he never really felt alone. The air of the tunnels, the familiar feel of the rocks under his feet, the cold ponds and their inhabitants were his companions. When he felt sad, or angry, he would think he had chased her away. Then he would stroke himself and feel better again. It gave him intense pleasure until he learned that cutting the fish was better. That was even more intense. He tortured them while they were still alive, and they flopped and writhed and slowly died.

  He took all these fish and bundled them up in moss and carried them past the tunnel that led to the square rock wall to a different cavern, a cavern with a little pond on one side and a huge lake on the other side. He dumped them in the lake, far away from where the stench would bother him. These fish were dirty; he could not eat them.

  But mostly, he waited. He sat in the dark, blind eyes staring into nothingness, thinking about his mother, choosing not to think about the light and the world above. He thought she would be back soon, and they would live forever in the caves. Together.

  7

  Sally diligently worked her body until it was fit. She swam in the old swimming hole she and Jackie used to frequent when they were children. She couldn’t comprehend that she was now middle-aged, that Clint was twenty years old, that her life was thoroughly destroyed. She took long walks through the woods and the fields. The aged and worn boards that covered the stairs to the tunnel were still there, the lock and hinges rusted solid. She would sit with her back to the big trees and stare at the cover, thinking about time, about life, about fairness.

  She’d seen Michael’s children, too. Justin, about thirteen years old, strong, tall, looking much like his father. The twins, eleven years old, with thick red hair like Maggie’s, turned-up noses and freckles; Ellen and Elsie. And Mary. Different from the rest. No more than four, she was small, thin, with hands and feet too big for her size and very, very shy. The children would swim in the pond as she watched, quietly hidden in the woods. She didn’t want to frighten them, and she didn’t want to have to answer any questions.

  Cora was a good woman. They talked sometimes far into the night. But she could never understand. Sally Ann hadn’t told her about Clint, because this was not his world. He di
dn’t believe in it, and who was she to keep telling him that there was something better? She had survived with the dream that back with her family she would be happy again. She wanted a normal life for him. She wanted him to be surrounded by love and family and all the things she wanted for herself. But maybe none of that was to be for them. There was no happiness up here.

  Her body was healed. She was gaining weight. Now she had some decisions to make.

  Her mother encouraged her to get out and socialize, but the thought was frightening. She had nothing to say to anyone. Except Michael. She had plenty to say to him, and Maggie as well. But she wouldn’t. There was no point. She sighed.

  On the way back to the house, she saw Michael and Maggie’s home on the hill where once her dream house was to have stood. The sun was going down and lights were on. It looked so homey, so comfortable. As if they had a will of their own, her feet took her closer to the house. She saw the barn off to the side. Michael kept it all painted up nice. The tractor looked fairly new; the grounds were neat, the trees tall and picturesque. Close enough now to see through the window, Sally Ann kept the big tree in the front yard between her and the kitchen window. When she reached it, she leaned against it and tried to talk sense into herself. “What are you hoping to accomplish by spying on them?” Her conscience would not let her alone.

  The temptation however, ruled her actions, and she peered around the tree and into the kitchen. There was Maggie. Fat as always. She didn’t want to see any more, but she couldn’t help herself. She stood next to the tree, eyes riveted on the warm little scene inside, and she was fantasizing that she was the one in there, making dinner for the babies and loving them all. She was so caught up that she didn’t hear Michael come up behind her until he spoke.

  “Hello?”

  Her face burned a bright red, and she was grateful for the fading light. “Oh, hello. I was, uh, just admiring your house.”

  He looked at her carefully. “You’re Cora’s friend, aren’t you?”

  “Yes. I was just out walking.”

  “It’s getting late. I think you should be getting back.” His face softened. “Can I give you a lift?”

  “Oh, well . . .” She smiled. “If it wouldn’t be too much of an inconvenience. I am rather tired.”

  “Not at all. Why don’t you come in and meet my wife while I get the keys to the truck.”

  Sally Ann smiled inwardly. She felt devilish. She followed him to the door.

  “Maggie? Honey, come meet a friend of your mom’s. She was out walking and got a little too tired, so I’m going to give her a lift back.” He turned to Sally. “I’ll be back in a minute.” He disappeared down the hall.

  Maggie walked warily into the living room. Her tone was venomous. “What in the hell are you doing here?”

  Sally Ann smiled. “Well, hello, Maggie. It’s been a long time, hasn’t it? You’re looking well.”

  “Don’t play cutsie with me, Sally Ann. If you tell Michael who you are, I’ll finish ruining your ugly face.”

  Sally took a step toward her sister. “Maggie, I don’t want to hurt anybody. I just want to make a life for myself.”

  “Then go make it somewhere else. You can’t do it here, and you can’t do it with us!” Maggie almost spit those last words, then turned on her heel and went back to the kitchen. Sally Ann sat down, put her face in her hands, and started to cry.

  She felt Michael’s hand on her shoulder. “Are you all right, Mrs. . . . Mrs. . . . uh, I don’t even know your name—I’m sorry.”

  “SALLY ANN HIXSON!” she wanted to scream in his face. She looked up at the concern in his face and started to cry harder. “Can’t . . .”

  “Mrs. Cant? Maggie? Would you fetch a glass of water for Mrs. Cant, please?”

  Sally Ann took the proffered glass of water and drank it down without looking at Maggie. She didn’t need to see the hate that was written all over her face; she could feel it emanating from her whole being. “Thank you very much. I’m feeling better now. Maybe we’d better go.”

  She went straight to her room, past her mother sitting silently in the living room. The next morning she was gone.

  8

  “Clint? Clint. It’s Mommy. I’m back.” Sally Ann raced through the tunnel, holding tight to the wrist of the wailing child she was half dragging behind her. “Get up and walk or I’ll leave you here!” The child cried louder, trying desperately to keep up, hiccuping fear. “Clint!”

  Her sense of navigation came back in a rush. She knew exactly where she was going. The tunnels were her old friends. The smell, the roughness beneath her shoes, the blessed darkness, all meant she was home. And at home she would find peace.

  She felt empathy for the child trailing behind her. The initial blindness was an awesome, frightening thing. They ran through the first tunnel that wound around, then approached the huge cavern with Monster Lake. She tried to hush up the girl before they entered, and succeeded in lowering her screams to a whimper. Sally tried to suppress the terrible constriction she felt in her stomach as they entered the cave. They crossed the path between the lakes as quickly and quietly as possible. As soon as they were back into the comfortable tunnels, they took off running again.

  “Jackie?” But even as she called, she knew Jackie was gone forever. “Clint! Come see what Mommy has brought you.” Out of breath, they slowed to a walk, and passed an auxiliary tunnel that had a dank and terrible smell to it. The well was at the end of this tunnel. She stopped and put her face up to Mary’s. “Smell that? You must never, never go near this place. The whole underworld is yours to play in, but you must return to the Home Cavern as soon as you get near that smell.”

  “I don’t want to play here. Please. I’m scared. I want to go home.”

  “This is home for you now, Mary.”

  After an exhausted sleep, Mary was slightly more docile, and she followed Sally Ann as long as they kept contact with their hands. How flexible the young are, Sally thought. How adaptable. The sleep felt wonderful. She awoke refreshed and invigorated. Ready for a new day. It was so good to have your sleeping and eating regulated by the body rather than by the sun. She laughed and skipped along the main tunnel, teaching Mary how to quench her thirst by sucking the dripping water from the side of the tunnel.

  Eventually, they reached Home Cavern, and Clint was there.

  They hugged each other and cried together and she felt all over his whole body to make sure he was all right. Thin, perhaps, but that is the way of the underworld.

  “I brought you some surprises, Clint. Some jam.” She took the small jar out of her bag and handed it to him. She laughed at his puzzlement, took it back and opened it for him. He stuck his finger in and licked it.

  “Ick. What’s that taste?”

  “Sugar, honey. You’re supposed to like it.”

  “I don’t like nothing from there.”

  “How about this?” and she handed him the sweater. “Here, I’ll help you put it on.”

  “I don’t much like this either.” He kept running his hands over the soft wool. “What’s making those noises?”

  “That’s your new sister, Mary. She’s come to live with us and be your playmate.”

  “She doesn’t sound so good.”

  “I was afraid like that when I first got here. Be nice to her. She’ll learn the ways of our life soon.”

  Clint walked over to Mary. “Wanna swim?”

  “I want to go home,” she sniffed.

  “She’s dumb, Mommy.”

  “Give her time, honey.”

  While Mary slept, Sally Ann and Clint talked. He wasn’t interested in hearing much about the time she’d spent “in the sun,” but she did tell him that some people would probably come into the tunnels to look for them. “Can we find a place to hide for a while, Clint?”

  “Sure. I’ve found some places that nobody else could find.”

  Sally sensed a change in Clint. He seemed older. Distant. Maybe it was because she knew that he wa
s twenty years old, instead of thinking he was only about eight. Maybe being on his own for a couple of months had matured him.

  After sleep they started. They dumped the jam into the lake and filled the jar with food. That went into her bag along with the extra T-shirts she had brought and some moss. Mary was a problem, but Sally Ann had expected it and was prepared. Clint tried to emulate her patience, but it was hard for him. He was so swift in the tunnels.

  Clint led them down a series of side tunnels that were barely big enough to crawl through in some places. Up and down they went, following his lead.

  Finally, one tunnel came to a dead end at a lake and they had to swim underwater to find the opening on the other side. This was nearly an impossible task for Mary, but the fact that she was so small and light helped a lot; they virtually held her breath for her and pulled her under and through the tunnel entrance.

  The other side was a perfect space. It was dry and warm, with a deep swimming hole in the middle, and a brisk stream running down one side. The new Home Cavern.

  Sally set up housekeeping, making beds, preparing a toilet, continually keeping her ears open for invaders. They came, but she never heard them.

  Part Three

  1

  Sally Ann and Mary sat on the side of the swimming hole, their feet dangling in the water. The children were playing loudly in the pool, splashing and laughing. Clint was throwing them high into the air and they begged for turns over and over again. He was a good father.

  “I’m going to go away for a while, Mary. I have some unfinished business to take care of.”

  Mary grabbed her hand. “Are you going up there? Can I go and take the boys? Can Clint go? Can we all go with you, Sally? Oh, please?”

  “You know Clint and the children can never leave this place, Mary. And your place is here with them. This is your home now. I’ll be back. I won’t be gone long.”