Marilyn

  Russell thought about this for a second, rubbing his bottom lip with his finger. He bore a hole into the map from the furious fire in his eyes as he studied it, retracing the route for what must have been the hundredth time.

  'Good, good. Who else have we got out here? Bennett? He lives close to the farm house, doesn't he?' he questioned with a certain lack of knowledge of the town.

  'Yeah, he lives pretty close,' Davies confirmed. 'It will take him a bit longer to get there in this, mind.'

  'I know. Can you try and contact him?' R.J. asked, checking his watch. 'Ask him to make his way over, ASAP, maybe they've seen something or know something that can help us.'

  'Yeah, sure thing, boss. I'll get right on it.'

  Davies got to his feet and shuffled around before finally getting some momentum in his step. He opened the drawer of Langston's desk and picked out the standard issue walkie-talkie.

  THIRTY

  It seemed like they had been driving, straying on the edge of civilization forever. Each path, each road, each ditch looked just like the last, it was like living in an ever-recycling loop of despair, getting nowhere, but it was wavering. Trees were becoming sparser, their branches retreating backwards, making way for the darkened sky. The road they were on was concrete smooth, and well used.

  They followed every twist and every turn the road had laid out for them. Houses infrequently made themselves apparent in the distance to their left and right. It was a sight to behold, to relish in. Juxtaposed roads splintered off, leading this way and that, into quiet dead-end streets. They weren't all alone after all. People and places did exist in this blackened world, their frantic cat and mouse chase concluding in this sleepy town just up ahead.

  The rain had altogether stopped for the first time in almost twenty hours, but there was still no sign of sunlight, which was hidden away like some unattainable treasure high up in the sky, unwilling to show itself. The wind had died down, leaving a steady breeze as its replacement.

  Marilyn wound down her window, noticing how weak she had become from lack of sleep and the mental worry and anguish she had endured. She leant her head through the gap, closing her eyes and allowing her senses to settle, the cool air whisked through her hair, blowing it back and away from her face. Her trials and conflict made her all the more beautiful, the sobbing, mourning mess was long gone. She was cloaked with determination and certainty.

  A dawdling river ran by the side of them, its flow hushed from the passing wind. Its banks were full to the brim, preparing to overflow. It was littered with fallen junk, branches, leaves and such from the plunder of the storm.

  Elwood mirrored Marilyn and opened his window, letting himself bathe in the cool, awakening chill of the zephyr.

  'We're almost there, it's not much further now,' Elwood announced, with a trickle of joy.

  Marilyn signed her acknowledgement with a nod, but spoke no words.

  'Look.'

  She aimed a finger at a bridge.

  'Yeah, that's the bridge that leads into the main street,' Elwood certified without looking at her. 'The sheriff’s office is just the other side.’

  Elwood edged the Jeep to the lip of the bridge, lifting himself from his seat slightly and arching his neck to peer over the edge of the car bonnet.

  'This thing gets worse every time I see it.' He shook his head in disgust. 'Someone will fall through this one day, mark my words. I can't even remember the last time someone even came and just patched it up. It's a damn monstrosity.'

  Elwood warily steered the Jeep onto the wooden death trap that was just waiting to eat up whoever was unfortunate and brave enough to cross its bloodthirsty planks. The front wheels rolled vigilantly over the rotten lip of the bridge, dropping with a clank as they passed. He straightened up and lowered himself back into his seat. They could hear the crunching under the tyres. The wood creaked and screamed unholy howls from the weight of the vehicle and its passengers as they tortuously crossed each board. Its struggle was indisputable. They clambered along, pushing forward.

  Marilyn sat back in her seat, holding her breath and biting her tongue with her back teeth, but she kept her eyes wide. She crossed all of her fingers that she could, not that it was good for much.

  'Jesus, they've really got to do something with this damn thing,' Elwood groaned.

  The back end of the bridge jerked and flapped as they made their way along. Flakes of wood snapped off under the wheels, slipping through the cracks and spilling into the river below. Tremors ran through the trusses and braces, rocking the timber all around them. The wheels hit the off ramp with a thud, sending both passengers lurching forward.

  'That was too close to call, Christ, I thought we were goners for certain.' Elwood struggled, wiping his brow upwards with the back of his hand.

  Marilyn wasn't listening for the first time since she had met him. Her focus was captured by the steep hill that led the way down into Main Street.

  'Hey, it looks like it’s kinda flooded down there, do you think we can get through, Elwood?'

  'Don't you worry about that.' He laughed. 'We'll get through, no problem. She's seen tougher problems than a bit of water, haven't you, old girl?'

  Elwood gave the steering wheel an encouraging pat with his hand. 'Brace yourself.' He smiled.

  Elwood clamped his hands to the wheel and let the Jeep take over, rolling speedily down the hill. This was the fastest they'd travelled the entire journey. They topped twenty-six miles an hour but it felt like fifty. The watery road markings whizzed past them like a stream of misfired lasers in some sort of futuristic battle scene, but they did not slow down as they hit the flooded dip. Water sprayed every which way, its force whipping at the exterior like a jockey hitting his horse across the finish line, the engine straining and roaring as Elwood commanded the Jeep through.

  'See, piece of cake,' he let out, with a murmur of relief.

  Main Street was under about an inch of water, nothing deadly, but yet another kink in the seemingly everlasting trek into town. The tall buildings cast formidable shadows, darkening the already dreary road. The town seemed to have everything it needed in one merged straight line. A gas station to the left, a locally run supermarket to the right, succeeded by a strip of bars and eateries. Parked cars lined the street, deserted and unloved, left to fend for themselves against the storm.

  Half of the street lamps were asleep, the other half were so dim that it rendered them pointless, like a torch in daylight, they did nothing.

  They passed a baker's, a cinema, the local radio station headquarters and a family-run shoe repair shop, all closed and boarded up with no one home.

  'I've never seen it so dead before, it's like everyone's packed up and left,' Elwood expressed, stunned.

  Marilyn looked around her at the empty buildings and parked cars, it sure was a ghost town.

  Elwood steered the Jeep easily along the flooded road, his legs wobbling from the dither of the hill.

  'There we are, look. That's the station, just over there on the right, can you see it?' he asked, pointing.

  Marilyn struggled to keep her eyes focused, but as sure as he said, there it was, smaller than expected. The pasty stone walls stood strong and tall, it was the pinnacle of the town, at least from the outside. “County Sheriff's Department” had been skilfully carved into the stone above the doorway, making it visible from most angles around town. Some of lights were on inside.

  'I see it, I see it,' she said with a certain worry and uneasiness that filled her stomach.

  Elwood pulled the car over to a stop opposite the steps of the building. He watched the deserted street once more before he shut the engine down and unbuckled himself.

  'Are you OK, Marilyn?' he inquired, looking over at her. 'Are you sure you're ready for this?'

  She didn't answer, she had unhooked her seatbelt and was already opening the door, with one leg perched, ready to roll.

  'Hey, wait for me!' wailed Elwood as he ran his hand over the handle.
<
br />   He got out and closed the door without locking it.

  They walked together, side by side, arm in arm up the steps and through the station doors.

  THIRTY-ONE

  Jack wandered through the lengthy hallway leading from the dining room to the bottom of the staircase. He scrunched up his toes inside his newly dried socks and smoothed them back and forth across the patchwork red carpet. He zigzagged along the corridor, dragging his fingers across both walls in turn, attempting to postpone the inevitable. It reminded him of being at home, it what was he used to do on his way upstairs to his bedroom.

  The hallway was narrow, the walls just off-white and perfectly decorated by the lavish hands of someone who knew and loved their trade. Jack looked up at them as he timidly made his way through. The colours of the floor and walls complemented each other in a tremendous fashion, reminding him of Christmas. Evenly spaced spotlights shone down from the soaring ceiling, casting large shadows of his feet as he walked.

  He stood at the foot of the stairs and glanced back at the closed dining room door, catching an uncomfortable shiver at the bottom of his spine that he could not shake off. O'Sullivan's warning boomed over and over like a bass drum deep down inside of him. 'Any trouble at all from you and I'll kill everyone inside, even the fucking dog if they've got one, you got that?'

  The stairs were intimidating, step after gigantic step leading to a curvature and a landing shrouded in a mysterious pitch blackness. The banister looked hand-carved, a masterpiece in carpentry and workmanship, elegant and bold all at once, covered in complex and intricate small swirls and spirals. The carpeted stairs were in reverse from the hallway below, off-white floor with red walls.

  Jack fumbled with his hand, palming his way across the wall, finally flicking two switches up, and illuminating his path.

  He gripped the banister, feeling the grooves in the wood in his sticky palm, taking one steady step after another. He followed the staircase around until he got to the top of the landing. It led both ways, to the right and to the left. Closed doors marked the path to each end of the upstairs hallway. He took an immediate left to the first closed door, turned the knob and walked in. Pulling the light chord and shutting the door behind him.

  **

  Andrew passed his drinking glass back and forth between his hands before draining the last dribble of liquid that clung to the bottom of the glass like a dying leech. He brought the finished drink down on the table with a glassy thump.

  Lizzy jumped, and shuffled in her seat, her daydream ruined, dispersing into the empty, not quite sure, corners of her mind.

  Julie coughed a throaty grumble.

  'Well, it's probably about time I cleared this mess up,' she stressed, wiping at her mouth with a folded napkin. 'Hope everything was all right with the food.'

  'Julie, it was splendid, thank you,' Walter answered, truthfully. 'We haven't eaten like that in a while. It was really wonderful. No wonder your husband loves you.' He laughed his infectious laugh. 'The key to a happy marriage is a full belly.'

  Julie smiled and looked at her husband. His stare was stern and penetrating, one that she knew well.

  She began picking up the plates and piling them on top of each other, the expensive china rattling together like chattering teeth.

  'Lizzy, be a darling and help your mother, will you?' Andrew asked softly.

  'Sure thing, Dad.'

  She got to her feet and pushed the chair under the table, using her whole body to lift and slide.

  'Come here and give your old man a hug before you go and get too old and don't want to anymore.' Andrew smiled a loving smile and held his arms open.

  Lizzy laughed and waltzed over. She threw her arms around Andrew's neck and squeezed tightly. He kissed her forehead, scuffled her hair and sent her on her way. She picked up the five empty glasses and balanced them between her fingers, using both hands, and trailed her mother out of the dining room, dragging her feet as she walked.

  Andrew Dunn rested his arms on the circular table and edged forward, bringing himself closer to the centre.

  'What do you drink?'

  O'Sullivan leaned in

  'What do you mean?'

  'Well,' he continued his cross examination, 'are you a lager man or a beer man, or even a spirit man?'

  O'Sullivan didn't, couldn't, stop the smile that climbed onto his face.

  'Now you're talking,' he hissed, 'I could murder a cold beer, Andrew, if I'm honest.'

  Andrew paused. He smiled, hiding his real feelings, tapped his huge hand on the table and pushed himself backwards, the chair creaking, almost bending under his incredible weight.

  'Two beers coming up, I'll be right back.'

  Andrew turned to walk out of the dining room, but stopped with his hand on the doorknob.

  'Do you smoke?' he asked, not turning around to face O'Sullivan

  'Smoke? Yeah, sure.'

  'Great.' He coughed. 'I'll bring the cigars.'

  THIRTY-TWO

  Officer Glenn Bennett drove, hunched at the wheel. He was a slim man, but healthy looking. He still had a full head of tough black hair and was freshly shaven. The radio breathed the sound of the Pink Floyd classic Another Brick in the Wall and he tapped his fingers to the beat as he plodded along, remaining at a respectable speed. He was a stickler for the rules, safety, and incontestably, the law. No one broke the law in his town, not when he was on shift.

  Glenn had cleaned and loaded his gun before he left, in case he encountered any trouble on his way, or at the Dunn residence. He was always prepared, an old school boy scout. It was on the passenger seat next to him, sitting in all its life-taking glory, craving some well-deserved action.

  It wasn't far now, he was over halfway there. He made a left turn, flicking on the windscreen wipers as he passed a downed power line. The rain was falling, falling hard.

  THIRTY-THREE

  The doors behind Marilyn and Elwood closed at a painfully slow pace. The feeling drained back into their cramped legs, warming them up as it flowed rightfully through until it hit their toes. It was bright inside, the lights threw a jaundice tint through the air. They had to wait for their eyes to routinely adjust. A lucent indoors was very welcome. The whir of the generator was audible, it was the only noise they could hear. The selective silence stung their ears. The station was too quiet, there didn't seem to be a soul around. Their hesitant childlike footsteps echoed through the dead calmness that blanketed the building.

  Marilyn took Elwood's arm, gripping it with her whole hand, digging a few of her nails through his coat, making him grimace.

  'Where is everyone? I don't like this, Elwood. I don't like this at all,' she whispered, with her free hand cupped around her mouth.

  Elwood smothered her hand with his and rubbed it, feeling the small prickly hairs that stood on end.

  'There's got to be someone about, there’s a light on in that office over there,' he said, pointing. 'Wait here, I'll go and take a look.'

  Marilyn didn't let go, or even loosen her grip. She walked with him, she felt safe with him. Elwood shot her a disconcerting glance, but continued moving forward.

  'Hello? Is there anyone here? Hello!'

  Elwood's panicked voice travelled all through the station, over unoccupied desks and under closed doors.

  **

  Rupert John Russell jumped from his skin, throwing his resting legs off his desk and onto the floor, drawing his gun like a young Clint Eastwood, he always fancied himself a cowboy.

  'What the.. who the fuck was that?' he asked himself in nothing more than a shocked grunt. He steadied himself, readily, for his unanticipated one man, High Noon showdown.

  The voice came back, chanting through the walls, louder. Recognisable.

  He was gathering his marbles, one by one, until there were all in the sack.

  'Elwood? Elwood and Marilyn. Shit, they're here.'

  He lunged forward at the door, pulling it open in one swift movement without noticing that his p
istol was still drawn.

  **

  There was a moment's silence. The old man and the woman stood together, arm in arm, alone in the barren station. There was the sound of movement and a figure burst through the door ahead of them, a drawn gun leading the way.

  'Jesus, Elwood, you almost got your head blown off there,' the sheriff ranted.

  Marilyn released her fingers one by one from Elwood's arm, her face a jumble of terror and relief.

  'Sheriff, you scared the Hell into us then, Jesus. Do you mind, can you lower your gun, please?' Elwood gently pleaded, his arm raised in front of them both, like a warrior's shield.

  R.J. bought his weapon down and holstered it, fastening it with its button lock. Elwood Bailey eased his guard, the tension releasing from his old bones and tense, aged muscles.

  'I'm sorry, guys, you kinda took me by surprise there.' He bowed his head towards Marilyn. 'I'm sorry, Ma'am. You must be Marilyn?'

  The sheriff walked across to Marilyn, his eyes sorrowful and sincere. He extended his hand graciously.

  'I just want you to know that we are doing everything in our power to get Jack back safely,' he voiced, with the tiniest smile of hope upon his face. 'I've got deputies setting up a roadblock at the edge of town as we speak. I've got someone working on the power so we can get our systems up and running to find out who this O'Sullivan fellow is. And there is a deputy heading to the farmhouse just on the outskirts of town, just in case he went off road. We're going to catch him, Marilyn. I promise.'

  'Thank you, thank you both, so much,' she said, standing tall, her hands at her sides. She turned to Elwood. 'I don't know what I would have done without your help. I don't think I could...'

  Marilyn fell apart, streams of tears slipped down her face, falling like golden stars from the night sky, uncatchable droplets of emotion and want.