by Moore, TJ
Cameron looked from one to the other and bit his lip.
“Work, sir,” the first said. “Are you able?”
Were they serious? He was lucky to be alive and they were asking about work? Cameron moistened his tongue and tried to speak again. This time, only a whisper escaped his lips. “The car rolled.”
“We can see that,” the second yellow blob said. “Tonight, you rest. Tomorrow you work.”
Cameron replied with more force now. “No. I hurt my leg. Help me.”
“If we help you…”
“…you will help us.” They finished each other’s sentences now.
Then, they spoke together,“IF WE HELP YOU, YOU’LL WORK FOR US.”
“No, I have a job.” Cameron frantically searched for a story. “I’m a construction worker – I was just driving out to a site where we’re completing some duplexes…before I…you know...”
“Perfect. Then you’re used to hard work.” The first man nodded to the second. They pulled Cameron from the wreck and loaded him into the wheelbarrow. “We can always use more help – especially with the expansion. Now, let’s get you inside.”
The men wheeled Cameron through several hundred feet of bumpy grass and weeds, and as the motion of the wheel barrow gradually made Cameron more aware of his surroundings, he noticed a series of small lights in the distance through the crowded company of trees and foliage. It was difficult to see the lights since a thick fog settled over the ground, inhaling and exhaling waves of gentle mist. The seething motion of the fog pulled Cameron into the dim gray ahead.
The lights in the distance were different than the lantern that dimly lit the faces of the two men. The lights beyond the trees had a faintness that resembled a house-like structure. They appeared to flicker between the lofty pines as he moved parallel to them. Cameron had seen many different types of electric wind farms that blinked to announce their presence, and if the lights were indeed blinking, he wondered who might have placed them there and for what purpose. Since the two men that transported him kept quiet as they weaved through the pines, Cameron was left to decide for himself.
A flock of crows flew overhead, cawing in eerie desperation. Their black feathers almost blended in with the night, but the moonlight-soaked fog etched out their silhouettes against the rim of the sky. Flying ahead, the crows perched atop a weathered oak tree, forming a percussive song that echoed throughout the surrounding pines. The cawing had an unpleasant edge that seemed to bend the sound waves into a wafting chill, slowing only to fill the ears of Cameron and the men that pushed him along.
As the wheelbarrow neared the rusty oak, the crows followed. They focused their beady eyes upon Cameron, leaning their heads forward and raising their wings, cawing down insults upon him in their mystical language. One of the crows loomed just over Cameron’s head, then swooped down to strike him, lunging forward, just missing Cameron’s battered face.
Snapping his neck back, Cameron hit his fourth vertebrae on the sharp edge of the wheelbarrow. The diver crow, now behind him, let out a mournful caw, calling the flock to follow him. In reverent obedience, the other crows leapt from the oak, and swooped down in a sequential attack, lifting their wings only inches from Cameron’s face, then bolting back into the churning fog. The obnoxious calls of the crows breeched the crest of the fog then vanished into the night sky.
The men had pushed Cameron a considerable distance from the accident site. His leg was in far too much pain for him to run, but he considered it. Looking up at the two yellow figures, he concluded that there was no way to escape these men. They might be armed.
The small lights were closer and stronger now. When the men pushed him down a shallow hill, the lights disappeared behind a mound of dirt. The men pushed him to a clearing under the looming canopies of the pines, stopping at an extremely large tree stump. As the first man held the lantern over the stump, the second man left Cameron in the wheelbarrow and flipped the top of the trunk open like a hatch.
Cameron took a closer look at the stump and realized it did not have real bark on it. Instead, the cylindrical metal hatch was painted to camouflage into the surrounding area.
The second man climbed into the hatch and descended a ladder.
BELOW
The first man walked the lantern a few feet in front of the hatch and cleared away the ground brush with his boots, uncovering a rusty sheet of metal. He waited for a moment then knocked three times on the panel. The panel dropped, forming a gradual ramp into the dark underground. The first man wheeled Cameron down the ramp, and with every inch, Cameron’s heart rate increased. He was concerned that the two men could hear his heart beating, and the shear nature of the hidden hatch system almost guaranteed he would be powerless from this point on. The first man walked back up the ramp to retrieve the lantern; and once he’d joined Cameron below, the lantern illuminated the second man’s figure as he locked the stump hatch. He brushed off his hands and gestured forward into darkness.
Cameron almost wished the men would talk about the weather or something, but their silence in the underground cavity only demonstrated their powerful position.
The air was musty and moist. Turning his head, Cameron smelled the earthy tang that was a combination of bitter and sweet scents from pinesap after years of dripping beneath the soil.
The second man flipped a switch somewhere and several lights flickered on, revealing a long, winding tunnel that curved – concealing where its reach led. These lights were dimmer than the lantern, and their combined shadows made abstract shapes upon the tunnel ground.
As they wheeled Cameron through the tunnel, amidst the gaps in overlapping shadows, he caught glimpses of earthworms and centipedes glistening on the ground, writhing in the dirt. The earth from the walls was held back by a series of long wooden panels that overlapped forming a strengthened weave.
The solid structure of the walls supported overhead paneling, causing the space to feel like a huge, elongated coffin.
Various sizes of roots forced their way through the tunnel’s barrier and became part of its very architecture.
Many of the roots jutted out into miniature tendrils that curved and spread randomly, reaching for any type of water or nutrient source. The lantern men ducked periodically as certain branches obstructed their headroom. And over time, this ducking motion became sequenced into a pattern based on the layout of the pine trees above. One of the roots stretched down far enough so that one of the men had to push it aside as to not further scratch up Cameron’s face.
The alluring movement of the roots stopped for a moment, and the man pushing the wheelbarrow stopped as well, taking the lantern from the other man. Then he walked around to the front, kneeling to inspect Cameron’s face with the light, searching for a flaw in his facial structure or possibly a flaw in his character. The flame within the lantern flickered behind Cameron’s eyes giving him an instant headache.
Holding the lantern, the man studied Cameron as if he were a hog on its way to market. The other man took out a Polaroid camera and snapped a photo of his torn-up face.
The bright flash was yet another shock to his senses. This was not the hospitality Cameron had hoped for. After a broad gesture forward, the men continued ducking under the roots.
The sustained silence of the men took on an ominous tone as they wheeled him down a gradual decline in the tunnel. When relief came, it was not through the sights or sounds of their journey; rather Cameron now felt soft, fresher air move across his face. This air smelled different too. It was the scent of ash. Cameron imagined there must have been a recently used campsite just above them, but since the forest seemed abandoned, he also wondered if the aroma was being filtered from a recent forest fire.
Within a few minutes, the men reached a dead end where three metal doors opposed them. While Cameron adjusted his back in the wheelbarrow, trying to avoid further bruising to his spine, the second man reached for a ring of keys, jingling them as he reached for the door. The man inserted the key into the metal doo
r and looked back to Cameron with a subtle wince.
The shadows faded into changing gradients across the man’s jawline as he twisted the key before leaning into the door and pushing it open. The tunnel ahead of them benefited from brighter lights and wormless ground.
Wheeling Cameron through the door, the other man extinguished the light from the lantern and placed it on a hook by the door. This path was paved with densely packed, dry dirt that resembled the consistency of fine sandpaper. This tunnel included other advancements as well.
Digging tools including shovels, spades, and pickaxes lined the left wall. Small grooves carved into the walls, holding them in place.
They wheeled Cameron through the tunnel as it curved right, revealing six men hastily working to carve away more dirt from the walls. When they heard the squeak of the wheelbarrow, the mud-faced men glared at Cameron.
As the wheelbarrow kept moving, Cameron realized his captors were not going to stop pushing anytime soon, and he needed something to occupy his attention. He looked up at the underground lights and began to count them. In a mesmerizing rhythm, the lights tracked above him. He counted 106 lights before coming to a stop.
Just ahead, a large freight elevator with geared doors reminded Cameron of two over-sized blades. The man with the keys did not reach for them, but instead slid the safety gate open, separating the doors before wheeling Cameron inside.
The two men closed the doors behind him and the man with the keys pressed a button on the elevator’s side panel. The lift shook to life and then jerked upward, rattling as it ascended.
Cameron was now alone.
He watched vertical lights flicker through small gaps in the freight elevator just before it came to a stop at a higher level.
He sat there for a moment. His leg was still throbbing and the temporary tourniquet he’d made for the gash in his right leg was coming loose.
In painful, disjointed movements, Cameron leaned forward enough to reach the interior panel of the lift. Stretching towards the green button put more strain on his back, but he kept reaching until he triggered the doors to open. And as they did, Cameron closed his eyes. He didn’t want to see whoever or whatever might be coming towards him.
If he was going to die, he was going to do it standing up.
He wiped a gob of mud from his cheek and pushed his neck forward. Then, he pressed his knuckles to the grated floor of the freight elevator, pushing the wheelbarrow forward through the doors.
When nothing happened, he opened his eyes, squinting them to adjust to the brightness of the room.
SHERI
Cameron was now in a large Victorian style living room decorated with a giant patterned rug on the hardwood floor, embroidered cloth wallpaper, and cherry red furniture. The curvaceous couches and chairs were carved from pine trees then stained to accent the cherry red baseboards and ceiling trim. All of the furniture also included at least one piece of floral upholstery.
Cameron wished he had his camera so he could document the eclectic room. Then, he immediately scanned the room, searching for an exit of some kind, but a cheerful humming from the kitchen interrupted his search.
The homey smell of soup wafted in, riding on the coattails of the cheerful hums. A poof of white hair poked out of the kitchen doorframe just as an elderly woman let loose a musical laugh.
“Looks like we’ve got another visitor, huh?” She stepped out into the doorway and wiped her hands on a large apron. The woman was heavyset, and no taller than four feet. The wrinkles and age spots hardly seemed to dampen the warmth that projected from her effervescent smile. The grandma-like figure approached Cameron who was still seated in the wheelbarrow. She stepped with a waddle in her short stride; and her southern accent twanged with a melodic cadence.
“I’m glad to see you’re alright, then. I was cheering for you out there.”
Frazzled by the bumpy elevator ride, Cameron began to wonder how the woman knew of his accident from her removed vantage point.
“Let me help you out of this thing…” Though her speech was lightning fast, she held onto her r’s and a’s in particular. Her accident reminded him of a southern Lucille O’Ball.
She carefully dumped Cameron onto the large wooden floor, and he caught himself with his frayed hands. He hadn’t noticed it before, but tiny cuts ran across his palms, and he pulled them towards his chest as they hit the wood flooring. In the brightness of the Victorian living room, he could finally see just how much the windshield of the SUV shredded his palms.
“Oh, heavens! Look at your hands!” She zipped to the kitchen and returned with some hot-soaked hand towels.
“It’s going to sting at first, but this will help clean out some of those cuts. We don’t want you getting an infection, no sir. Now, I want you to just relax. Go find a nice comfy place to sit…I’ll get you a blanket and a change of clothes.” She started to leave, but snapped her head around. “Are you hungry?”
Cameron nodded as he pulled himself up and limped over to sit in a hefty, firm-cushioned couch.
“Okie dokie. I’ll be right back then with some soup as well.” Then she shuffled back into the kitchen.
Cameron looked around the room. The pictures on the walls were oddly reversed with only the bare backs of the frames showing. Although the feel of the room made Cameron remember his own grandma’s house, there were staggering differences. This woman did not live alone. The worn-out nature of the room suggested heavy activity from many hands and feet. Most of the wallpaper peeled in several areas revealing past applications of different colors or patterns, which also showed a sort of history of the room, possibly dating back over a hundred years. Cameron figured this estimation based on a different layer of wallpaper every twenty years.
Tracks of mud from various boot prints worn the wood floor leading into the adjacent dining room, and a couple nails poked out of the flooring. A few shovels also rested in the corner of the room, and water stains clumped in specific areas on the ceiling. Cameron craned his neck further up and noticed a portion of the ceiling in the corner had a gaping hole in it, revealing a dark crawlspace.
He looked across to the freight elevator he’d just emerged from and realized the space had once been a sizeable fireplace. The bricks forming the outer rim and mantle were still in tact, but they had been reinforced with metal plating to withstand the tremendous weight of the lift. A few of the bricks had also been punched out and replaced with long hooks, supporting several limp overalls looped through the straps.
If the fireplace were still there, it would appear that the overalls were hanging to dry from the winter activities of grandchildren enjoying a romp in the snow. However, this nostalgic illusion was created more by the sweet smell of the kitchen rather than the realities of the room since the hanging overalls were much too large for children. They obviously belonged to adults, yet they were sized accordingly to different body types with some pant legs hovering over the floor and others draping onto the floor by several inches.
The senior woman reentered the room carrying a stack of clean clothes and a tray of steaming soup with a side of grape jam on buttered toast. “Nothing like a late night snack. You’re a lucky duck, my friend…’cause I was just cooking up tomorrow’s lunch. I try to make it in big batches so as to save a penny here and there. I’m on a fixed budget as it is.” She pulled over a square ottoman and sat for a moment, smiling at Cameron as the soup warmed his face. “Oh, my dear, I’m sorry. I forgot to introduce myself. I’m Sheri Johnson. Welcome to my little cottage home!”
“I’m Cameron…Cameron Frost. Quite the place you have here.” Cameron laughed nervously. He envied the group of crows that had circled above him amidst the forest trees. “I didn’t know I was going to get suchspecial treatment on the way over here.”
“Yes, well the guys have their own way with new guests. They aren’t really talkers if you noticed, but they’ve been through a lot. I don’t blame them, and you shouldn’t either. I’m just glad they found you
out there. Now, that you’re here, safe and sound, don’t worry your little head about nothing because I’m going to take care of you. Anyways, what a storm, huh? Goodness sakes. I thought I was about to have a mini heart attack when that first clap of thunder rolled through the house. The angels must be bowling in heaven! I called up one of the fellas to stand guard by the hutch just in case any glassware decided to jump off!” Her laugh was a mad monkey jumping on a piano, his feet gleefully pounding keys with no mind to octave or tempo.
Sheri scooted the ottoman closer. “So, I’m just so glad, you know…that you’re safe. You tumbled right down that hill like a raccoon rolling from a dumpster! And, cheese and crackers, it’s just a miracle you’re here, Cameron. I sure hope you didn’t break any bones.”
He couldn’t believe a real woman – flesh and blood – actuallytalked the way she did. It seemed rehearsed in some way, yet through his CSI work, Cameron learned the world was even stranger than he thought. Of course, if the woman’s behavior was a performance, she deserved an award for being a total ham.
Cameron leaned forward, “I definitely sprained my ankle and scraped myself up a bit, but I’ll live.”
“So, you’re in construction then?”
Cameron tilted his head. “I’m sorry…”
“Yeah, well there are no secrets here.” She winked.
Cameron wondered how the hell she possibly knew about the lie he’d told the men outside. It wasn’t like he went around telling everyone he worked in construction.
Cameron dipped some of the toast in the soup. The hot soup dissolved the bread, and melted in his mouth. “Duplexes. I was on my way to a construction site for some new duplexes,” he lied.
“Really? Where?” She blinked and smoothed her apron with her hands. “I know this area like the back of my hand. You probably noticed we don’t have many neighbors out here.”
“Oh, just about another hour south along the highway.”
“How neat. As you can see…” she motioned towards the gaping hole in the ceiling. “I do a bit of construction around here as well, so you’ll fit right in. Hopefully you’re better at it than I am.”