Eldorado

by Jay Allan Storey

  To his surprise, almost the moment he lay down his eyelids became heavy. As he lay his head on Lacy’s pack he was aware of her moving away, and from the rustle of the bushes guessed that she was climbing a hill nearby. Then he drifted off.

  He awoke with a start after hearing a noise behind him. He tried to roll over, expecting to see Lacy, but found himself roughly shoved back down and onto his stomach, and felt the pressure of a boot on his back. Twisting around he saw a man standing over him, holding a gun pointed directly at his head.

  The man was short and scrawny, with thick, black curly hair and the dark shadow of a day’s stubble. He was thin to the point of sickliness, but his sinewy muscles gave him a menacing air. His pronounced nose seemed out of scale with the rest of his face, but his most striking feature was a large Adam’s apple, which bobbed grotesquely when he spoke and even more when he swallowed – which was often. The man looked familiar.

  “If you cry out – or try to call for your little friend,” he inclined his head in the direction of the hill Lacy had climbed, “I will kill her, as surely as I am standing here.”

  Danny nodded. The man hauled him up by the collar, handed him his pack and motioned for him to put it on, then shoved him forward. They started walking toward what looked like an impenetrable wall of brush, but as they approached Danny saw that there was a narrow gap. They slipped quietly through it and into open country. The kidnapper was picking their way carefully. After hiking for ten minutes they reached a secluded cluster of brush with an open space in the center. They entered and his captor pushed him roughly to the ground.

  “They all thought you were dead,” he said, and the images came flooding back into Danny’s mind: the rain-soaked bridge, the gang of thugs surrounding him, Zonk on a leash held by – this guy.

  Yeah, that’s the guy. Danny thought.

  Suddenly he remembered – this was ‘Swallow’ – called that, he supposed, because of the man’s irksome practice of swallowing frequently when he was excited, which was most of the time.

  “But I had a dream,” Swallow continued, as he hauled a length of rope from his pack. “God himself appeared before me and told me of a vast treasure. He revealed riches beyond my imagination, and proclaimed that they could be mine – I had only to fulfill my destiny and claim my reward. A magnificent fortune awaited me at a special place, God assured me, and you would be the one to lead there. At first I discounted the vision, thinking – ‘it is but a dream – and anyway the boy is dead’.

  “But then I thought…” he pointed at his own head. “I thought: ‘What if he survived his fall into the river? He’s a young one – young and strong. What if he still lives, him with that knowledge in his head? What if that thing he has found is more valuable than the others suspect?’”

  He nodded with a self-satisfied grin. “I thought: ‘What if I can find him? Find him and force him to take me to that place he knows? Then I would possess that fabulous treasure – the treasure promised to me by God himself.” His voice rose and his expression became more and more excited. “Then I would be the one commanding respect. Then I would be the one that others must obey!’”

  Danny struggled to get up, but Swallow pressed down hard with his boot.

  “And I was right,” he continued, unwinding the rope. “You did survive. You are alive. This is truly the day of my good fortune and God has surely blessed me. Now you are going to take me to the place that you know. And do not try to pretend that you do not know. You are going to take me or you will die. And there will be no doubt about your death this time.”

  Into the Big City

  Lacy scoured the glade where Danny had been resting, and called out for him. At first she assumed he’d gone to relieve himself and would soon return. Then she noticed that his pack was missing. When he failed to answer her calls and didn’t return for several minutes she knew something was wrong. She was confused. It didn’t make sense that Danny would just run off, but what else could have happened?

  Using her considerable tracking skills she located the faint trail that Danny, and what looked like another person, had left behind. The slightness of the trail told her that whoever Danny was with knew how to avoid leaving any evidence of their passage.

  She located a clearing where the two had stopped then moved on, but a few hundred yards later the trail led out onto an expanse of bare rock and disappeared. She tried to pick it up at a few points around the edges, but there were an endless number of ways they could have gone, and in some directions the rock carried on for miles.

  She returned to the clearing where they’d stopped to rest, sat down on a rock, and cried. There was no way to know what had happened to Danny. She sat and waited, praying that somehow he would reappear. Three hours later there was still no sign of him. Waiting any longer would force her to travel at night. There was no choice but to follow Danny’s plan – to continue on their original route and hope he would somehow be there when she arrived at his house. If not, at least she could tell his brother and maybe he could help.

  After several hours of strenuous hiking and a careful traversal of the Corridor, she finally stood on a hill overlooking the fantastic city of Vancouver, its glass and steel towers ringing the shining waters of English Bay. It had been seven years since she'd dared to venture there.

  It’s still beautiful, she thought.

  Lacy had only vague memories of the giant city. She remembered the profusion of soaring buildings, so massive in her memory that until now she had questioned whether she’d been imagining them. She remembered the paved streets crowded with people and traffic, the rumbling streetcars, the bustling markets.

  She was overcome by a rush of emotion recalling events that had taken place so long ago – events that had finally forced her to flee to the wilderness. A powerful memory surfaced, its images vivid and disturbing.

  It began with thousands crowded around the Food Train. Her father had said that they were going to help the homeless and hungry stop the train and seize the food for themselves. It was to be a political statement, drawing attention to the plight of tens of thousands without jobs, homes, or food.

  She remembered her mother and father arguing violently about whether or not they should bring her along. Her mother said it was too dangerous for a ten year old, but her father insisted she should be there to witness history in the making. In the end, her father prevailed.

  Now Lacy’s mother and father were near the front of the crowd, directing the protest. Lacy was farther back with Auntie Becky, who held her tightly by the hand.

  Lacy was frightened, pressed on all sides by anonymous legs and torsos. The pressure of the mob behind them threatened to separate her from her aunt, pulled away as parts of the crowd moved in different directions. Auntie Becky finally hoisted Lacy up and onto her shoulders.

  “Hold on tight and don’t let go for anything.” Auntie Becky shouted above the roar of the crowd. Lacy could sense the fear in her aunt’s voice.

  She remembered how proud she was watching the commanding figure of her father, standing above the others, his black beard wafting with the breeze, confidently directing the action. The protesters blocked the track with a pile of railway ties, and when the train was forced to stop, stormed it, broke into some of the rail-cars, and started removing the food.

  But with the pressure of the crowd and the excitement of the looting, the event quickly escaped her father’s control and descended into chaos. The few guards that were present tried to disperse the crowd by firing over their heads. The gunfire only seemed to enrage the mob, and they turned on the vastly outnumbered guards. In a panic, one guard fired a shot into the crowd, and her father dropped to the ground. She remembered wondering why he didn’t get back up.

  “Daddy!” she screamed.

  “What’s happening!” shouted Auntie Becky.

  “I think Daddy’s hurt!” she shouted back.

  A collective scream of rage rose from the mob in response to the shooting. A knot of pro
testers surrounded the guard who had fired. He fired several more times, and several other protesters fell to the ground. Finally, one of the rioters wrestled the gun away and began using it as a club to beat him.

  The guard, like her father, descended into the seething crowd. He re-emerged on the shoulders of the mob, covered with blood now and beaten to an unrecognizable mass. His body reared up into the air like a cork bobbing on the ocean, propelled by the arms of the horde. Seconds later it came crashing back down. A protester aimed the gun at the ground and fired several times.

  The mob turned on the remaining guards and tore them apart with their bare hands. They broke into and emptied every rail-car, and proceeded to demolish the train. In their blood-lust, the rioters trampled anyone in their way. Many were mowed down by the advancing hordes behind them. The crowd writhed like a living thing, dragging away or crushing everything in its path. Lacy saw her Mother helplessly carried away.

  “Mommy!” she screamed. “They’re taking mommy!”

  “Which way!” shouted Auntie Becky.

  Lacy pointed toward her mother, the tears streaming down her cheeks.

  “Sarah!” screamed Auntie Becky. She tried to move in the direction Lacy had pointed, but was driven back by the crushing bodies around them. Lacy heard the scream of police sirens, then gunfire, from far away.

  In the distance hundreds of men in uniform moved on the edge of the mob. It instantly changed direction, and both she and Auntie Becky were carried along.

  Lacy saw a tight knot of rioters burst forward in her mother’s direction. Her mother went down under the surging horde.

  “Mommy!” She screamed again, but her mother never re-emerged.

  Somehow Auntie Becky kept hold of her and they were carried out of the crowd. As soon as they were free they fled the city. Auntie Becky said it was because the government would blame them for the riot.

  For a few months they lived with her father’s cousin, Ned, and his wife, on a farm on the fringes of Surrey. Ned didn’t seem to like her or Auntie Becky. Lacy overheard him complain about having to harbor fugitives from the law. He said he’d heard about the food riots, but refused to hear any of the details.

  “I want to be able to say I didn’t know you were involved,” he said.

  Despite Cousin Ned’s unfriendliness, Lacy liked living on the farm, and especially loved to ride the horses and work with the animals.

  It all ended one day, when she heard angry shouts coming from the house, and Auntie Becky and Ned emerged in a violent argument. Auntie Becky’s face was red, and her shirt was torn. Cousin Ned had scratches on his face. Lacy never heard what the argument was about, but in the end she heard Cousin Ned scream,

  “Get out! You’re not welcome in my house anymore. Get out or I’ll call the authorities!”

  They fled once again, this time deep into the emptiest corner of Surrey, far from civilization. They found a secluded clearing near the river, built a tiny hut camouflaged with branches and grass, and adopted a hermit-like existence.

  They lived off the land, snaring the occasional rabbit or squirrel, catching fish from the river, and foraging for nuts and berries. Sometimes they found vegetables from abandoned gardens that still grew wild among the empty houses and in the surrounding fields, and eventually even cultivated their own small garden.

  Lacy winced at the recollection. The memories had faded, but the intense emotions they evoked were as strong as ever. As she had done so many times before, she suppressed the images to concentrate on the present.

  Now that she had reached high ground that afforded her a good view, she pulled out the crude map Danny had drawn and studied the route to the ‘X’ marked ‘our house’.

  Vancouver looked more run-down and decrepit than she remembered it. The roads weren’t well maintained, many buildings were disintegrating, and the streets were full of people who looked like they had no place else to go.

  Danny had warned her to stick to the main streets, as the side streets could be dangerous. Even so the effects of poverty and homelessness were all around her. There were shanties wherever there was an open space, and the houses were fortified and almost always guarded by either humans or the ever-present guard dogs. The people she passed looked hungry and desperate. She knew about Surrey’s reputation as a tough and lawless place, but from what she could see here, these people might be better off living in Surrey.

  Danny’s home was boxlike, with chipped wood siding and a peaked roof speckled with patches of moss. A single door in the center was recessed within a gable, and a single step led from the crumbling front walk to the stoop. The house was surrounded by a beaten-up wooden fence that leaned over in several places. Lacy stood frozen for several seconds, awestruck, as she tried to imagine living in such a palace.

  She walked up to the gate. It was locked, but Danny had told her how to find a key by reaching through two of the slats and feeling for it in a crack between the boards. After a few minutes of searching, she located the key and entered the yard.

  She scanned the surrounding houses for suspicious neighbours, but couldn’t see anybody watching. Trying her best to look as if she belonged, she strode confidently up the walk to the front door and knocked. There was no answer.

  She realized that there had been a major flaw in their plan. From what Danny had told her his brother should be home from work by now. It was possible that Richard was just out on an errand or out for dinner. But it was also possible, even likely, that he wouldn’t be coming home at all – that he had gone off somewhere – searching for Danny.

  She started to walk away, but realized she had nowhere to go. It was too late to head back to Surrey, and she didn’t know anyone else in Vancouver. In the end she was so exhausted she just curled into a ball on the Hampton’s stoop and went to sleep, hoping that Richard would be home soon.

  When she awoke, it was dark. The nearest streetlight was a half block away, and only a few of the nearby houses had any lights on. She woke with the sense that something had disturbed her sleep – some sound, some movement. Now that she was awake, she could see the outline of a man standing only a few yards away. She looked past the figure to the gate, and remembered that she had left it open.

  How could I have been so stupid! She scolded herself. Terrified, she gathered up all her courage, and managed to speak, “Are you Mr. Hampton?”

  There was a smirk behind his creepy whisper: “Yeah, that’s right, honey – I’m Mr. Hampton.” Suddenly the light from a flashlight shone in her eyes, and he approached. She hunted in panic for an escape route.

  “Don’t worry, sweetie,” the voice crooned. “This won’t hurt a bit.”

  Lacy jumped up just as the man grabbed for her. He got hold of her right arm and tried to pin it behind her, but was hampered by the flashlight. Finally he threw it to the ground to gain use of both hands.

  Remembering what Auntie Becky had taught her, Lacy did two things in quick succession: she stomped down with all her might on the top of the man’s right foot. As Auntie Becky had predicted, he screamed and doubled over in pain, letting go of her arm. She then did the second thing – she drove her knee upwards as hard as she could into the already staggering man’s nose. He screamed even louder and collapsed on the ground. He yelled,

  “Jun! Jun! Get over here!”

  She ran past the immobilized man and toward the open gate. Just as she reached it another man appeared, so suddenly that she ran right into his arms.

  “Hi there,” the man laughed as he seized both her wrists and hauled them roughly behind her back. He stood behind her, gripping her so tightly her hands began to lose circulation. The curtains parted in the house next door. Immediately they shut again. No one was going to help her.

  “Watch her, Jun,” croaked the first man. “She’s a bitch and a half!”

  “What? This little thing?” laughed Jun. “Come on, Frank. She’s too sweet.” Lacy lashed her head back sharply, bloodying Jun’s nose.

  “Aghhh!�
� he screamed and released her.

  “I told you,” yelled Frank, staggering to his feet. “For fuck’s sake get ahold of her!”

  She tried to run, but Jun recovered quickly and grabbed her by the arm. She kicked and screamed, but Jun was too powerful for her, and soon Frank had rushed over to help him.

  “You’re damned lucky I need you to look beautiful,” said Frank, as he and Jun together threw her to the ground and began tying her hands behind her. “Otherwise, I’d beat your pretty face to a pulp.”

  Lacy continued kicking, biting and screaming. Finally, she heard Frank yell, “Get the chloroform. Chloroform the bitch!”

  Moments later a damp rag was pressed over her nose and mouth and a nauseating chemical stench invaded her nostrils. Soon after that, everything went black.

  On the Road

  Richard and Carrie pushed themselves to the limit as they hurtled down the road exiting the Wal-Mart complex. Within minutes the giant slab of the complex had shrunk into the distance.

  Carrie finally slowed to a brisk but sustainable pace. “In case they do come after us,” she said, “we’re going to take a shortcut that I’m pretty sure none of the others know about.”

  “Pretty sure? Just out of curiosity, what do you think would happen if Doyle did tell Tucker and they came after us?”

  “I don’t know…I’d probably be put on some really unpleasant duty for a long time. They might even banish me. Stealing resources is a major offense. As for you, I don’t think there’s too much doubt.”

  “What?”

  She drew a finger across her throat.

  “Great,” he said.

  He was tense as they rode, primed for the squeal of motorbikes heading out after them, but, as Carrie had predicted, there was nothing. He saw that she was tense as well. After twenty minutes they slowed and she seemed satisfied that there would be no immediate consequences.