Tell No One

by Jeff Vrolyks

  They continued on. Theo thought he saw something off in the distance to his right. A light. “What’s that?” He pointed in its direction.

  She hummed and peered into the distance. “A light.”

  “It’s not a house, is it?”

  “There are no houses out here. Strange. Let’s get a little closer, see what it is.”

  They broke their direction to head toward the inscrutable light. It began taking shape as they grew nearer. It was a dully glowing half circle.

  “I think it’s a tent” Carmen said.

  “I think you’re right. Maybe a lantern glowing inside?”

  “Yeah, I think so.”

  Minutes later they arrived at a dome tent. It was being pummeled by the sheets of rain. Their flashlights were shining around it, at it.

  “Hello?” Carmen said. “Anyone in there?”

  There was no answer. Theo felt uneasy about it. Who would be camping out here in the middle of nowhere? And why wasn’t he or she responding? Carmen's voice was as non-threatening as one could be, maybe even inviting.

  “Hello!” Carmen tried again. She pressed the lens of her light against the canvas tent and flittered it around. She found the entrance to the tent and unzipped it, tentatively peeked inside.

  “Is someone in there?” Theo asked.

  “No. But I think someone lives here. Lots of junk inside.”

  “That’s a little creepy. Why would someone live here?”

  “Remember what I told you,” she hinted.

  “Yeah, I remember. People banished from town. You think this is that John guy?”

  “I don’t think so. I believe Gary said he was on the other side of town.”

  “Let’s get going. I don’t trust whoever this stuff belongs to.”

  They left at a healthy pace. Theo risked putting his arm around her and it went unchecked. He was wet and freezing, and pictured them sitting in front of a fire sipping hot cocoa, and he wanted that more than anything.

  “You really should have worn your waders. It’s really cold out, not good to be wet. You’ll catch a cold.”

  “As long as my right arm is okay, I’m happy.”

  She giggled.

  His hand drifted down to her waist and he felt around, expecting a lump of steel, a twenty-two. He didn’t feel anything so he patted her other side.

  “It’s not in my pocket,” she said. “It’s in my boot.”

  “Oh.” He shone his light at her feet. Rubber waders. “And how do you expect to draw your gun if you need it? Take your pants off?”

  “I don’t plan on needing it. It’s just in case.”

  “Okay, well what if that is the case, that you need it. A little tough gaining access to it, don’t you think?”

  “You are such a baby, Theo. Would you feel better if it was in my hand, cocked and ready to fire?”

  “It’s loaded, at least, isn’t it?”

  “A gun not loaded isn’t a gun but a piece of metal to throw at your adversary. Of course it’s loaded.”

  “A girl with a gun, it’s kind of a turn on.”

  “Oh shuddup,” she said and giggled again. It was a musical giggle, Theo loved it. “It’s just up ahead.” She waved the beam of her flashlight at the invisible darkness beyond its reach.

  Arriving at the mine restored Theo’s memory in full. There was the tree, whose branches were once used to hold the backpack and camera. There were the tracks beginning at the maw of the mine. They had pushed the cart outside to take pictures.

  “The camera,” Theo said. “The disposable camera. We took pictures. Did you develop the film?”

  “No. I probably should have thrown it away, destroyed it. It’s packed away in a chest.”

  “I’d be curious to see the pictures. There’s nothing incriminating on it. We didn’t take a picture of the dead guy or anything.”

  “Let’s go inside.”

  “Ladies first.”

  “No, strong quarterbacks first.”

  “Fine,” he said grudgingly and entered the mine.

  Chapter Eleven

  It was oppressively dark inside the mine. Theo imagined their lights both going out at the same time. How horrible that would be! What if they got turned around again and again and never found their way out? He asked her if the batteries were fresh. She said they’d be fine and called him a wimp. The ground began its slight slope downward. They walked between the tracks, where the cart had once gained speed on its way to destiny, ending a man’s life.

  “Look,” she said and directed her light on a small pile of bones.

  “A rabbit or something,” Theo said. “Maybe a coyote brought his dinner here.”

  “I hope you’re going to be a man and check the pockets of the dead guy. You aren’t going to make me do it, are you?”

  “I’d love for you to volunteer, but if you don’t want to I suppose I’ll do it.”

  “I’d rather not see him, let alone touch him. I’d appreciate it if you did.”

  “Alright. I’ll do it.”

  There was a sound behind them, something like a rock skittering across the dirt, and they both stopped and spun around, lights eagerly searching for the source. The darkness was so dense that it snuffed out the light not fifteen feet from them. They looked at each other, then back up the mine. It was absolutely silent, a total absence of light and sound, save for what they created.

  “Just a shifting rock,” Theo said. “Let’s go. I want to put this behind us.”

  As Theo had spoken, Carmen had slid the straps of her waders off her shoulders and hiked them down to her ankles.

  “Why are you getting your gun?”

  She unzipped the side of her boot and pulled out a gun, then redressed. She put her mouth to his ear and said, “I don’t know what you think you heard, but what I heard was someone kicking a rock.”

  “I doubt it. Nobody’s there.” Theo looked up the mine with the light directing his eyes. “Is anyone up there?” He nearly shouted.

  More unwavering silence. Theo felt a surge of confidence with Carmen gripping a gun. Not that there was anyone in the mine, that was an absurd thought, but a gun goes a long way in providing comfort for the wary mind. They continued down the mine.

  “I sincerely hope I didn’t cause problems between you and Matthew.”

  “He was a little overwhelmed. He wondered why I never mentioned you before. I said it was a long time ago, there was nothing between you and I. He trusts me.”

  “If there needs to be trust, you’re more than just dating. Are you two committed to one another?”

  “We’re something, I don’t know what. We haven’t discussed the parameters of our relationship yet. That will probably happen soon. I’m blessed to have him. He treats me really good, Theo.”

  “How long have you two been dating?”

  “Not long. But we spend a lot of time together. He stops by my work almost every day.”

  “I bet he hates Stanford now, huh? Will probably hate the Forty Niner’s next season, too. Not a Graham fan.”

  “You're probably right,” she said and humored. “How could he not be intimidated by you? He’s handsome, but you’re handsome and soon to be rich. Poor Matthew.”

  “Yeah, poor Matthew,” Theo said sarcastically. “I feel so bad for him. Poor guy has you for a girlfriend.”

  “You’re jealous.”

  “Duh.”

  “You’re cute, Theo.”

  “You ain’t so bad yourself.”

  Carmen opened her mouth to speak and instead gasped, stopped mid-stride, moved her beam of light off the corpse. She turned and faced Theo. “I can’t look.”

  “Then don’t. I’ll go check the pockets and we’ll haul ass out of here.”

  Theo took the half-dozen steps or so to the body, Carmen stealing glimpses through mostly closed eyes. The man was on his back, dressed in black denim jeans, a dirty brown or red sweater (it was hard to tell) and a tan coat. Dark hair and beard. What portion of hi
s head had no hair to cover it was decomposing, badly. Theo was thankful his eyes were mostly closed. But the eyelids were decomposing no less than the rest of his flesh, and the smell… Theo pulled his coat up and pressed it against his nose.

  If he was a drifter, and that seemed more than plausible, would he even own a wallet and ID? Well, Theo thought, if he was a drifter because he was excommunicated and banished from the community, he might have once owned such mundane things and kept them. He wedged his hand under the corpse’s butt and felt for that identifiable bulge. When there wasn’t one, he stepped over John Doe and repeated the process under the other half of his butt. Nothing. He patted the two breast pockets of the coat and they were empty. Before giving up, he checked for inside pockets on the coat, and there was one. He reached in and felt it, a leather wallet. This won’t be a trip made in vain, he thought, and extracted the wallet, brandished it at Carmen.

  “Bingo,” he said.

  “Good. Let’s go.”

  They took their departure. Theo fisted the wallet in his left hand, cognizant that its contents would answer the most important question of his life: who was it I struck and killed? The bait was nearly too much to handle, he wanted to look inside now. Not that the name on the license would mean anything to him, but it was still a compulsion hard to abate.

  “What if what we heard was the man living in the tent?” she said. “Maybe he followed us here.”

  “But he wasn’t in the tent. We didn’t see him. He wasn’t there. He couldn’t follow us if he wasn’t there to see us. Besides, that was a good deal always from the mine.”

  “Not really. Only five minutes or so. A man could trail us for five minutes, you know? Without us knowing. Geez, what if…”

  “No, Carmen, I don’t think so. It was either a rock falling out of the wall or a rock one of us had stepped on, and it settled behind us. What sense would it make for a man to follow us?”

  “I guess you’re right.”

  “Should I open the wallet? Learn the great unknown?”

  Her face showed her worry. He didn’t think she wanted to know, but instead needed to know. She nodded.

  Theo shone his light on the wallet, flipped it open and saw a line of plastic. Chase, Wells Fargo, Chevron, Blockbuster. On the other side was a window with a laminate license inside.

  “Michael Reese Gibson,” he said. He looked at her. “Does that name mean anything to you?”

  “Never heard of him.”

  “Okay.” He opened the fold and found twenty-three dollars in cash. He examined the driver’s license. Issued in the state of Montana. The photo was eerie. Eerie in that this dead man was so full of life, clueless to what lie ahead in the coming weeks, months, or years. He had neatly combed black hair, a short beard, a genuine smile. Not a handsome man, but not a hideous man, either. He certainly was hideous now. He was born in ’59, which made him fifty-three if he were still alive. He had died ten years ago, at forty-three. The address listed on the card was 624 Goodall Drive, Helena, Montana.

  “What’s the next step, will you ask Doctor Gerhart if he’s heard of this man?”

  “Yes.”

  “Under what context? You could say you found his wallet, that would be a good reason to ask if he knew him.”

  “I suppose. Where would I have found it?”

  “Anywhere, I don’t think he’ll ask. You found it fishing, at the shore.”

  “That’s good, I’ll say that.”

  He handed her the wallet. She accepted it apprehensively and slid it into one of the wader pockets. In her left hand the gun remained. Theo didn’t say anything, he didn’t mind. She could carry it all the way back to her home, and that would be just fine with him.

  “Shouldn’t his address be here in Cedar Hills?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe he moved here, or had two homes. It doesn’t matter.”

  “I guess it doesn’t.”

  “Michael Reese Gibson,” she mused. “Not the name I pictured. It doesn’t sound like the name of a transient.”

  “I don’t think parents select a name befitting of homelessness. And just what name would that even be? Oliver Twist? Besides, he probably wasn’t a transient. He has credit cards. I’m sure that you were right about him being a Mormon, removed from your community. It was probably an old license, his old residence. That would make sense.”

  “I hope that’s the case. And Blockbuster; there are none of those in town. He must have moved.”

  Before arriving at the mouth of the mine they heard the rain, growing louder as they went. What seemed like utter darkness on the earlier hike to the mine now looked like broad daylight, by contrast to what they had just endured. His eyes had adjusted to the blackness of the mine, even with the flashlights, and now he saw trees in the distance, a scree-faced hillside, and the slight basin of a valley from here to that hill. Lightning flashed so brightly that Theo shielded his eyes. Carmen had left the umbrella open and just inside the mine; she retook it and the two huddled under the black dome, directed themselves homeward.

  Chapter Twelve

  They returned to her house just after nine PM. The exercise had warmed Theo, but now that he was sitting on the couch (on a folded over towel to keep the cushion from getting wet) he was growing cold. Cold wet denim was pasted against his legs, it felt miserable. Carmen saw him shiver and cranked up the space heater to full-hot. They had only eaten one piece of pizza earlier, so she asked if he'd like her to reheat the pizza-pie. Heck yeah, he replied. She put four pieces in the oven and crossed the small home to a dresser, put her gun in the bottom drawer, then selected some clothes from another drawer and went inside the only room with a door, the bathroom.

  Theo hugged himself, stared at the space heater wishing it had been left on full blast before they had left. A moment later Carmen left the bathroom in gray sweat pants and a yellow and green Packer’s sweat-shirt. Her hair was tied back tightly. She carried a heap of clothes and waders to the hamper and dropped them inside. Then remembered the wallet and fished for it from the wader pocket and carried it to the couch, sat beside Theo with her legs tucked under, the way only a woman could do. She placed the wallet on the end-table beside the couch. She rubbed her temples with a strained face. She mumbled something about a headache.

  “Tomorrow is my last full day here, driving home early Wednesday morning. You’ll learn all you can about Michael Reese Gibson tomorrow, right?”

  “Yeah. What if Gary has never heard of him?”

  “I suppose I could research him online, see if there is any record of him.”

  “Will we stay in touch after you leave?”

  “I swear on my mortal soul that if I receive a letter in the mail from you, I will read it twice, three times, and respond.”

  “I was thinking phone conversations, email and texting.”

  “Yes, for sure. You have my number, call me any time. Please do. And I’ll call you, if you don’t mind.”

  “I’d love that. I’m going to have to tell Matthew about our friendship. I think he’ll understand, though it might be a little tough after how you behaved today at the office; he’ll wonder why I would want to be friends with such a jerk.”

  “That is a good question. I was jealous of him, that’s all it was.”

  “I won’t tell Matthew that. I don’t want him thinking you like me more than a friend.”

  “He already knows, Carmen. Come on, he’s a guy. He knows what he has with you. He probably sees every guy as a threat. As someone who might steal you away.”

  “He’s not like that. And he has nothing to worry about, anyway.”

  Theo nodded with measured disappointment. “I know he doesn’t. He’s a lucky guy. I’d trade places with him if I could.”

  “Ha!” She covered her face and laughed in her hands. She leered at him with a wide smile and said, “What a load of crap!”

  “I would,” he said resolutely. But would he? It was easy to say, but if it got down to it, would he hand over the key
s to his future NFL dynasty to have this girl? He thought yes, but it’s easy to say yes when such a thing is impossible.

  “If you would, Theo, I wouldn’t want to be with you. I’d rather you fulfill your destiny. And seriously, there are way better looking girls out there. I’ve seen your cheerleaders on TV. Each one is a bazillion times more attractive, and don’t pretend they aren’t. You’re just infatuated with me because we share a bond, a unique bond.”

  “If that were true, you’d be affected by the same bond and you’d feel that same infatuation with me. But you don’t. Matthew is the proof. And it’s not just how pretty you are. Yeah, it’s a big part of it, but equally important is your kind gentle soul. When you aren’t flipping me off, that is.”

  She smiled and flipped him off.

  “How could you do that!” he cried. “You disallow cursing but you can say fuck you with your finger?”

  “Don’t say that in my house!” she scorned. “A finger is just a finger. A gesture. It’s not a curse.”

  “It certainly is a curse. It’s sign language.”

  “I suppose I shouldn’t do it. You deserved it today, though. I don’t regret it one bit.”

  “I did deserve it. But I didn’t deserve this fresh one now.”

  “Fresh…” She giggled. “Speaking of fresh, you best not be getting fresh with me. Keep over there. I see you inching your way over to me.”

  “Just trying to get comfortable, my dear.”

  “I bet. I’m gonna make some coffee, would you like some?” She left the couch, entered the kitchenette.

  “That sounds great. Do you have any Bailey’s or Kahlua to add to it?”

  “What are those?” She poured coffee grounds into the mesh basket.

  “My God, are you serious? You are sheltered.”

  “Alcohol, I assume. No, I don’t drink, and you knew that.” She rubbed her temples. “Ugh, I’m getting a headache,” she muttered. She poured water in the coffee maker and started the machine. Then opened a cupboard, shifted around a few bottles, closed it empty-handed.

  “Headache?”