Dark Channel

by Ray Garton

  1.

  Although she never lost consciousness, Lizzie had slipped into a numbed daze; she knew she was lying down and that whatever she was lying down in was moving, but she knew little else. Blurry flesh-colored ovals hovered around her, bobbing in and out of her field of vision, leaning close, then pulling far away.

  As the daze began to recede, Lizzie realized she was inside a van that was traveling at a high speed. She could smell the poor unfortunate creature who had carried her away, and her first coherent thought since being taken from the house was, Benjamin Thorne. Lord, please, give me some time with Benjamin Thorne.

  Voices spoke in hushed tones and the van slowed to a stop. Lizzie closed her eyes and listened.

  “Is he out there?” Hester asked.

  “Yes,” a male voice replied.

  Hester said, “Okay, now listen, Mark, I want you to listen very closely. You’re feeling better, aren’t you?”

  “Yes,” Mark answered in a hollow voice.

  “You look better, much better. Did you take the pills?” She sounded nervous.

  “Yuh-yes.”

  “Good, good, and you feel much better, don’t you, of course you do, Mark. Now take my hand, take my hand. There. Now listen. Your purpose hasn’t changed, do you hear me, it has not changed, and you’re going to leave now and do exactly what we planned before, do you understand?”

  “Yes.”

  “And why are you doing this?”

  “To speed the coming of the New Age of Enlightenment.”

  “Yes, Mark.”

  “To pave the way for the coming of Orrin.”

  “Yes, Mark, and you’re going to do that now, aren’t you, just as we discussed, just as we planned, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “Good, wonderful, Mark, wonderful, now—” Lizzie heard a long slow kiss.

  “—go, Mark, go and perform the duty to which every moment of your life has led you. Do you understand?”

  “Yes.”

  A door was slid open and Lizzie heard a car idling outside. There was another kiss, then:

  “We’ll be together again, Mark, after you re-embody. Because we were meant to be together, don’t forget that.”

  Lizzie heard another engine idling outside the van, and after a few moments, the door slammed shut and the same male voice she’d heard earlier said, “What was that all about? You told me that we were—”

  “Just shut up for now.” Hester took a deep breath, then said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that, I didn’t mean to snap at you. I’m just, uh, a little tense at the moment, that’s all. Let’s talk later, all right? Before the ceremony?”

  “Yeah. Sure.”

  Lizzie heard movement around her, then a disturbing silence. She opened her eyes and blinked until Hester’s face was in focus. She was smiling down at Lizzie benevolently and looked much more at ease than she’d sounded a moment ago.

  “Hello, Lizzie. I hope you’re comfortable.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Good. Good. I’m sorry for startling you back at Mr. Coogan’s house, but it was kind of unavoidable. I’m not sure what you think you’ve been doing here in Grover, but I know it’s very illegal.”

  “Then why didn’t you call the police and have me arrested? Why aren’t we letting our lawyers work it out? I don’t see why it’s necessary for you to have your son terrorize a bunch of people then cart me off like a sack of potatoes.”

  At the words your son, Hester flinched and pulled back, her face beginning to twist up with anger; then she calmed, looked relaxed again, in control.

  “Why do you do that to Benjamin, by the way?” Lizzie asked. “You use him like the witch in Oz used the flying monkeys, don’t you? And worse than that is what I imagine you’ve done to his mind, how you’ve twisted him. And on top of it all, you tell everyone he’s been dead for years. You use that little sob story to stir up sympathy for you, for all the pain you’ve gone through. But what about Benjamin’s pain, Hester? What about Benjamin?”

  Hester smiled, shook her head slightly. “I don’t have the vaguest idea what you’re talking about, Lizzie. Just lie there quietly. We’ll be dropping you off very soon so we can go about our business.”

  “And what business is that, Hester? The business of spreading your lies? Making more predictions so you can send your other winged monkeys out to make them come true?”

  Once again, Hester’s face darkened, but only for a moment. She leaned very close to Lizzie and whispered in her ear: “You are pathetic, Lizzie. You don’t realize it yet, but you are. You don’t have any idea what you’re talking about or what we’re doing here. And tonight, I am going to show you exactly how pathetic you are … and how powerful I am.” She stood and turned away from Lizzie, saying, “Let’s go.”

  The van began to move again. Lizzie closed her eyes and prayed silently.

  Sometime later—Lizzie wasn’t sure how long—the van began to jostle over rough terrain; Lizzie guessed it was the dirt road Paula had spoken of earlier that evening. A few minutes later, it stopped and Hester said, “Bring her into the cave.” Then the door opened as the van idled.

  Benjamin appeared above her, hunching down to avoid hitting his head on the ceiling, but still appearing mountainous. Spittle dribbled over his enormous twisted lips as he breathed through his mouth; the nostrils of his malformed nose were filled with mucous. He leaned forward and picked her up in his arms, carrying her as he had before … like a baby. He took her out of the van and into the night.

  Lizzie had pity for him, felt pain for Benjamin … but she tried to hold her breath for as long as possible, because his odor was unbearable.

  She heard footsteps walking behind them as Benjamin carried her across the dirt road and through dense woods. The stars disappeared behind tall trees and she felt bushes and branches brush against her.

  In a few moments, the stars disappeared; so did the trees and the bushes. Lizzie felt only damp, cloying air and saw only impenetrable darkness. And yet, Benjamin continued to walk just as steadily and at the same pace as he’d been walking under the night sky.

  This must be the cave, Lizzie thought. And he must know it well.

  The footsteps behind them continued to keep up with Benjamin, but not without a noticeable shortness of breath. Lizzie assumed it was Hester who was following them and smiled, amused by the idea that Hester was having trouble keeping up with her deformed and enslaved son.

  She noticed that the darkness began to give way to light, a faint blue light that seemed to come and go, as if it were throbbing. She knew then that she was inside the cave of which Jordan had spoken, and the light she was seeing was the light that had so terrified him. As the light grew brighter, she told herself to be alert, to pay attention.

  In moments, she began to feel the light as well as see it. It slithered over her skin, prodding now and then as if it were looking for entry. She closed her eyes to pray, but—

  —she saw, once again, the piles of dead bodies she’d seen on the playground a lifetime ago, so—

  —she prayed with her eyes open, asking for protection from whatever it was she was being taken into.

  The light grew brighter and her muscles tensed, her stomach churned and she found herself digging her fingers into Benjamin’s rock-like arm. Her ears began to ring and she felt a pressure beneath her teeth, as if they were being forced out of their sockets.

  The light was behind her now. She could feel it on the back of her head.

  Then it was gone. Benjamin had taken her behind a large rock and into an alcove that was sheltered from the light. He leaned forward and placed her on the cool ground. There was still enough light for her to see what was directly in front of her and when Benjamin stepped aside, his mother stepped forward, looking down at Lizzie the same way she might look down at an insect just bef
ore she stepped on it.

  “Well, Lizzie,” she said, “you’re going to have to stay here for a while. I have some things to do. You can lie here and pray to pass the time, if you like.” She grinned. “Or maybe,” she added, gesturing toward the malignant blue light behind her, “you’ll see the light.”

  Hester turned and walked away and Benjamin followed her. Their footsteps stopped and when Lizzie lifted her head, she could see their dark figures standing like shadows in the pulsing light.

  “Do not take your eyes off her!” Hester whispered harshly. “And do not listen to a word she says. She believes in the Great Lie. You remember what that is, don’t you?”

  Benjamin made a pathetic grunting sound.

  “Now, if anything goes wrong here while I’m gone, you will be punished.”

  He whimpered.

  She hissed, “You will have to sit in the light for a very long time, do you understand?”

  Another grunt, this one frightened and child-like.

  Then Hester left, her footsteps sounding like a series of small bones breaking in a staccato rhythm and fading into the distance.

  Benjamin turned and started back toward Lizzie. She sat up, pulled herself onto a damp rock and leaned her back against the rough wall of the cave. Benjamin stood in the roughly arched entrance to the alcove and stared silently at Lizzie for a while.

  Lizzie pushed from her mind Benjamin’s odor and appearance and tried to think of him only as Hester’s unfortunate, malformed son whom she probably had kept not out of love or motherly attachment, but simply to use as a tool, a sort of hit man, perhaps even as a kind of pet. Lizzie straightened her posture and gave Benjamin her best smile.

  “Hello, Benjamin,” she said quietly.

  He flinched at the sound of his name, cocked his head and looked at her from the corner of one sagging, runny eye. “My name is Lizzie.”

  He rushed toward her suddenly, swiping a hand back and forth through the air as if he were going to slap her. Lizzie held her breath and tensed, but forced herself to show no sign of fear.

  Benjamin stood over her, waiting for something—perhaps for her to cringe or cry out—then swaggered past her and went deeper into the alcove, where the darkness was impenetrable. She heard his movements, his noisy, rattly breathing, then a sharp click filled the alcove with light and made Lizzie wince. Benjamin had turned on a battery-operated fluorescent lantern. It was perched atop a rock that stood in the middle of Benjamin’s possessions, which were arranged carefully on rocks and on the ground. A thin blanket was neatly folded with a single pillow on top. On top of another rock lay a doll that had not held up well over the years; its stuffing had leaked out of holes and tears, giving the dirty body a deflated look, and it was missing some hair and an eye; a small stained rag had been placed over its body like a blanket. On the ground beneath the doll was a toy fire engine; it was obviously old, had a broken ladder and was missing a front wheel, but was just as clean as a new one. Propped against a rock was a rectangular piece of cardboard to which a page from a magazine had been taped; the page displayed a photograph of a misty lake at dusk with two ducks lazing on the surface and dark purple mountains in the background. In the back of the alcove, canned foods were stacked against the cave wall in an orderly manner.

  Lizzie was touched, but, at the same time, so indignant that she clenched a fist until her nails dug painfully into her palm.

  He lives here, she thought. In a cave. Like an animal.

  And yet, in spite of his appearance and the things he was made to do, he seemed more human than his mother.

  After turning on the light, Benjamin went through the small stone room carefully, methodically; he bent down and touched the fire engine, patted at the little blanket on the doll to make sure it was in place, picked up the magazine picture, looked at it a moment, then replaced it, and looked over his collection of canned foods for a long time, as if he might be counting them.

  Lizzie cleared her throat, ridding it of the lump that had risen there, and said, “You have nice things, Benjamin.”

  He hunched down suddenly, looked over his shoulder and made a threatening gurgling sound.

  “Don’t you think that picture would look better if it were up higher?” she asked, looking around surreptitiously for a place where the picture could be propped up at eye level … at least her eye level.

  Benjamin growled like a dog as he swept the picture up and hugged it to his chest beneath enormous three-fingered hands.

  “Up there, let’s say.” Lizzie stood and pointed to a small flat section of rock jutting out of the wall. “See? That way you wouldn’t have to bend down to look at it. It’s a very pretty picture,” she said quietly. “You should be able to see it all the time.”

  Benjamin’s head turned slowly and he stared at the flat rock, making a curious sound in his throat that sounded like an un-articulated question.

  “Here, I’ll show you,” Lizzie said, stepping up onto one rock, then another, so she could reach the small shelf. “Hand me the picture and I’ll set it up here so you can see how you like it, okay?” She reached out a hand for the picture and—

  —Benjamin’s lips pulled back over his mangled yellow teeth and he roared, taking a step backward and hugging the picture again.

  “I’m not going to hurt your picture, Benjamin,” Lizzie whispered. “I promise. If you’d like, you can put it up here. How does that sound?”

  He stared at her a while, then held the picture out and stared at it a while, then glanced back and forth between the two. He spun away from her suddenly, then began to walk in a slow circle around the lantern, rubbing a hand back and forth over his lumpy head and tugging at his thin, wiry hair. Then he stopped, faced her and made a sound.

  It took Lizzie a moment to realize that the sound was a word.

  Benjamin had said, “Liar!”

  “I wouldn’t lie to you, Benjamin. What makes you think I’d lie?”

  More confused movements, then, in a thick voice that was almost impossible to understand, he said, “Muuhhh … Muh-ver shay … you liieee-yerrr.”

  “Ah. I see. Then why don’t you put the picture up here. I think you’ll like it much better.”

  Benjamin thought about it a long time, then stepped forward and lifted the picture tentatively, eyeing Lizzie with suspicion. She stepped down from the rock and nodded encouragingly. He placed the picture delicately on the stone shelf, then stepped back to admire it. He moved all around the alcove, looking at the picture from every possible angle, then his already twisted mouth slowly twisted even more into what Lizzie took to be a pleased smile. He looked at her and made a sound like the coo of a very large baby.

  “See, Benjamin? I told you it would look nice. And I didn’t lie to you, did I?” A long pause, then: “Did I?”

  He swiped a hand over his face a few times—not unlike the way Curly used to in the old Three Stooges shorts—then bowed his head, shaking it only slightly.

  “Benjamin, tell me … why do you live here in the cave?”

  He began to look around slowly, as if for a place to hide, then seemed to give up and sat heavily on a rock. Slapping a palm to his chest, he said, “Sheee-cref.”

  “Secret? You’re a secret?”

  He nodded, rubbing his bulbous knees nervously.

  “And you only go out when your mother lets you, right?”

  He started to nod again, then doubled over suddenly as if he were cramping. His hands hung to the ground and his tiny fingernails chittered over the gritty, rocky surface as he mumbled to himself. A string of saliva dribbled from his mouth and plopped to the ground, then—

  —Benjamin shot to his feet and rushed her, roaring, his putrid breath enveloping her, and—

  —Lizzie screamed.

  2.

  When Jordan regained consciousness, he heard screaming and crashing com
ing from Coogan’s living room, but it didn’t last long. For a moment, in fact, he thought he’d imagined the sounds, but when he heard more voices after a brief silence—quiet, fearful voices—he realized it was not his imagination.

  Neither was the pain he felt. It radiated from his back all the way into his head and down through his legs. He was afraid to move because he knew something might be broken, but he had to move. His body was not the only thing damaged; apparently the entire situation had been shattered.

  Jordan pushed away from the wall and made muffled noises of pain as he used a shelf to pull himself to his feet.

  “Mar-Marvin? Coogan?”

  There was movement. Pieces of broken glass clinked together. Someone groaned.

  “Jordy?” Marvin panted as he stood.

  Jordan staggered around the shelf to his side. “Hurt bad?”

  “I’m bleeding. And I’m hurting. But I don’t think it’s bad. Hope not, anyway.” He groped around until he found his flashlight, then flicked it on and looked for his glasses. “Shit,” he said when he found them.

  “Broken?”

  “Uh-huh. Oh, well. I’ve got another pair in the car.”

  They limped through the maze of toppled shelves and spilled goods until they found Coogan on hands and knees, groaning. Jordan knelt beside him, wincing with pain. “Hey, Coogan. What’s the damage?”

  “I can’t see straight, is the damage.”

  “Here, we’ll find your glasses.”

  “No, it’s not just that. My eyes are crossed. Bastard hit me a couple times. Hard. Right in the head. Looked like he had a big rock in his hand.”

  “Nope,” Marvin said, “just his hand.”

  “Well,” Coogan puffed, trying to get up, “find my glasses anyway.”

  “Can you walk?” Jordan asked.

  “I can try.”

  Once they’d found Coogan’s glasses and got him on his feet, they headed back into the living room. They met Lauren at the doorway.

  “Oh, thank god,” she said. Tears glistened on her cheeks and her hands quaked as she reached out to help Coogan up the step and through the door.