"You're going to work under the house. But unfortunately, another tragic accident is going to occur. The gas line is going to break"
"You don't think the police will be suspicious that two more people have died under your house?" I tried reason. Reason had to work, didn't it?
"I've saved enough money to start a new life under a new name. I'm getting out of this business and skipping the country."
"You'll never be able to get away from what you've done, you know. Even if you manage to escape Virginia, you'll never escape your conscience"
Bob's face became redder by the second. "Get under the house. Now!"
"You won't get away with this" I had to try and keep talking. Try to buy a few more minutes of life. Plus, I really didn't want to go under that house. I'd almost rather die by gun than by gas fumes.
"Now!" His voice rose.
I'd made him angry. Angry people did stupid things. Like pulling triggers. At least under the house, I might be able to escape.
I stared at the computer guru one more minute. Could I take him down? Chad and I together could surely overpower him.
But not his gun. That small little Glock could stop my heart in one second flat.
"I'm going"
Chad and I exchanged glances. I couldn't read the emotion in his eyes. He seemed rather at ease. Of course, Chad always seemed at ease. Maybe he knew something I didn't.
I stared at the opening to the crawl space. The door-probably pulled off by Chad earlier-was gone. Various pieces of equipment lay scattered on the grass.
Bob pointed the gun at Chad. "You get in first. Try anything funny, and the girl dies"
"I'm going" Chad glanced at me before getting on his hands and knees, lowering himself to his belly, and then army crawling forward, inch by inch. When his feet disappeared, I felt my stomach churn with nausea.
My turn now.
I got on my hand and knees. Stretched until my stomach hit the prickly grass. Used my elbow to pull myself into the darkness. My injured arm ached with all the jostling and movement.
"Move faster!" Bob yelled.
If you hadn't shot me in the arm, maybe I could.
I saw Chad beyond the darkness as splashes of sunlight filtered inside. Seeing him somehow comforted me. At least I wouldn't die alone.
I shook the thought out of my head.
I wouldn't die. I was smart. Chad was smart. We'd figure a way out of this. This house would not be our grave.
My elbow hit the mushy ground under the house. Flashbacks of finding Elvis stormed into my head. I could smell his rot again. See his lifeless body. Hear the insects feeding on him.
Creepy crawlies flickered up my spine. Bile rose in my throat. Scenarios crashed into my mind.
"It's okay, Gabby," Chad whispered.
"Have fun with the snakes," Doughboy said. I looked back and saw his sorry excuse for a face leering into the crawl space. He actually smiled.
I wanted to claw his face off.
Before I had a chance to, darkness closed in.
"STAY CALM, Gabby" Chad's voice sounded miles away.
"Stay calm? We're going to die under here. How can I stay calm? If the gas doesn't kill me, a snake will"
"We'll get out"
Steady your breathing, Gabby. It's going to be okay. Chad's right. We'll get out of here.
I reached forward. "Where are you?"
"I'm right here" He grabbed my hand. My heartbeat slowed some.
I remembered the crawl-space door, a shoddy wood compilation. How hard could it be to kick it off? Probably just a nudge would do it. "We can get that cover off, right?"
"He got a new one that locks" Chad's voice sounded grim.
"Still, there's got to be a way." Think, Gabby. Think. "We can scream"
"He has a generator on outside. The noise will drown out our cries"
"You're not making me feel better" I couldn't give in to defeat. "We need to think quickly. When he releases that gas. .
"I'm trying to think quickly!"
Chad's near panic made me forget about my own ... for a second, at least. "How about the little vents along the sides of the house? Can we knock one of those out?"
"Maybe" Chad let go of my hand, and I heard him moving.
"What are you doing?" I heard my pitch go high.
"I left a flashlight in here somewhere"
A flashlight! Then we could see any snakes. "Great"
"Finding it is another story."
My muscles froze. I should try to help, but I couldn't move. I imagined the cobwebs I might encounter, that would drape over my skin, sending spiders scurrying through my hair. I imagined reaching forward and grabbing another snake. This time, the creature would be alive. Its fangs would dig into my skin. Venom would stop my heart.
And Chad wouldn't even be able to find my lifeless body because of the utter blackness around us.
"Gabby?"
"Yeah?"
"Keep talking to me"
"Okay" Yet I could think of nothing to say. I tried. I really did. But chatting about my favorite songs just didn't seem appropriate at the moment. "All I can think about is music"
"What songs are you thinking about?"
"`The Great Gig in the Sky' by Pink Floyd."
"Think of another song."
"`See That My Grave Is Kept Clean...
"Huh?"
"By Blind Lemon Jefferson. A blues singer-"
'And guitarist from Texas. Van Morrison referred to him on his album Beautiful Vision. Said he was one of the most influential blues singers ever."
I was seriously impressed. And temporarily distracted.
"Okay, the music thing isn't working." Chad moved around in the distance. "Are you going to let me teach you to surf this summer?"
"You're still going to be around?"
"Of course, I'll be around. We're going to be partners, remember? I can't leave my partner."
"But what about your plans?"
"Plans change. So about my question. You want to learn to surf?"
I remembered my father trying to teach me as a child. If I learned to surf, would that help me to understand my father more? Or would I only come to dislike the man more?
"I'll think about it"
"Fair enough. There's nothing like riding a wave, Gabby. I'm telling you, nothing in the world like it. It gives you such a rush-"
"Did you find the flashlight yet?"
"I thought it was over here somewhere" I could hear Chad moving. "Here it is!"
Relief washed through me. Everything would be better with some light.
"What?" Chad sounded frustrated.
"What? What's happening?"
"This was just working a minute ago."
"Don't tell me" I would have let my head drop to the ground, only the mushy ground was the last thing I wanted my face to touch.
"The flashlight won't turn on"
Another sound distracted me. Coming from the area around the crawlspace opening. I could hear something rubbing against the metal.
I knew what was happening.
Doughboy was about to gas us.
And I couldn't do anything about it.
AT LEAST I'd die peacefully.
Rumor has it that death by gas is painless. You go to sleep. You never wake up.
There were worse ways to die.
Only, I didn't want to die. It was like Mrs. Mystery said-I had undiscovered potential.
Mrs. Mystery!
In excitement, I jerked my head up and promptly hit a beam. I moaned and rubbed my scalp.
"You okay?" Chad asked.
"Yeah, just great"
What was my neighbor doing? Was she still in the van? Would she realize something was wrong and get help?
Or worse, would Doughboy find her on the street and kill her also?
Please, Lord, protect the woman. She doesn't deserve to die like this. Me, on the other hand, I probably deserve a lot of things. Riley said you're not a God who dishes out pun
ishment based on who deserves it. I hope he's right.
While I'm praying, if you could nudge Mrs. Mystery that maybe she needs to find a phone and call the police, that would be great.
Suddenly, it smelled like someone had left a gas stove on.
"Gabby?"
I swallowed the lump in my throat. "Yes, Chad?"
"Are you okay?"
"As okay as I can be considering I'm paralyzed with fear and starting to feel like a turkey sitting in the oven at Thanksgiving"
"Good to know."
"Isn't it?"
"We can still get out of here, Gabby Girl"
It sounded a bit like Supergirl, didn't it? I pictured myself in a crimescene cleaning uniform with a big G across the front. Maybe that should be my new company logo.
Maybe the gas was already starting to affect me.
The G could stand for Gas.
I could see the headlines. "Gabby Girl Gagged by Gas" Try saying that five times fast.
"I'm going to try and push this hose back out," Chad said.
"Good idea"
I heard him moving. Thought about the plastic beneath us. The gas streaming inside. The closed quarters.
"Stop!" I screamed.
Silence hovered. "Why?"
"We're sliding around on a mixture of plastic moisture barrier and dirt. It's dry and cold outside. We could form static electricity, which would cause a spark, which could cause this whole place to explode"
Silence again. This time filled with apprehension. Heaviness settled on the air.
"We can't just sit here and die," Chad finally said.
"I think I'm going to throw up, Chad."
"Stay with me, Gabby!"
The gas was getting to me. I knew it was. I'd had prior experience while locked in the trunk of a car that sat running in a garage.
At least Chad would be here with me when I died. That was a nice thing about having a partner- A partner! I'd never answered him.
"Let's do it," I said.
"Do what? Am I missing something?"
Nausea rose in my gut. My head twirled. My thoughts collided.
I had to keep talking. "If we get out of here, let's go into business together, you and me"
"Really? You won't regret it"
No, if I died, of course I wouldn't regret the decision. It was an easy choice to make here on death's door.
I couldn't pass out. I couldn't succumb to death.
"Gabby?"
"I'm here"
"Gabby?" Chad's voice sounded awfully high-pitched and squeaky.
"Chad?"
"That wasn't me" That sounded like Chad. The other voice sounded like...
Mrs. Mystery!
"In here!" I wanted to crawl toward her voice, but I stopped myself. I had to remain calm. It helped that the gas was making me lethargic. If you would consider that helping. "We're under the house:"
"The door is locked" I heard Mrs. Mystery rattle it.
"Can you pull the hose out?" Chad asked.
"This one?"
"The one going into the crawl space." I could hear the weariness in Chad's voice. The fumes were getting to him too.
"Let me see if I can pull it out. It doesn't look very complicated, though it is attached to this big old tank of something. I have a feeling it isn't helium:"
Brilliant deduction, Sherlock. "Hurry. Please"
"Okay, I've got it"
We needed fresh air and fast. But if the crawl space was locked ...
Was this all for naught?
"Don't worry, I called Riley."
Riley? Why would she call Riley? I mean, sure, he'd gotten me out of some scrapes before. But how about the police?
"Mrs. Morgan, you could be in danger. You should go back to the van and lock the doors"
"Don't worry. I did some reverse feng shui of the internal sort on your villain. He'll be out for a while."
I heard metal against metal. I paused, waiting for the gassy air to explode.
Then the crawl-space door opened. Fresh air flooded in.
"I'm going to crawl out, Gabby. Then I'll give you the respirator, okay?" I heard Chad but barely. Stars and stripes exploded in my head. And I'm not talking about the patriotic type.
I held my breath. Waited for a spark. Braced for an explosion.
Please, God, no.
Chad's feet disappeared outside. Then a tank appeared. I quickly put the mask on and greedily gulped in the oxygen.
"GOBBLE, GOBBLE, gobble, gobble." Chad could imitate a turkey about as well as Sierra could do bird calls.
"Would you stop saying that?" Sierra paused from peeling potatoes for long enough to shoot eye daggers at Chad. "That bird used to be alive. It deserves more respect than your leering eyes are giving it"
Sierra looked with compassion at the turkey I basted in my apartment kitchen. For a moment, guilt pounded at my temples. Then I remembered how yummy sliced turkey smothered with gravy tasted, and my guilt disappeared.
For our Thanksgiving feast, Sierra had brought her own turkey tofu. Enough to feed a houseful, which was too bad since she'd be the only one eating it.
I angled my body to block both Sierra and Chad from seeing the bird, and I basted it again. Only one more hour in the oven, and it would be ready to eat.
"Are you finished peeling the potatoes?" I asked both of them.
"Peeling away, my dear" Chad grinned and held up a particularly long potato skin ribbon. He'd been trying all day to get one long enough to use as a turkey belt. And yes, a turkey belt is just what it sounds like: an accessory to go around Dinner, my affectionate name for the turkey we would later devour.
I didn't mention that detail to Sierra.
I saw my best friend eye the turkey again and knew I had to move to Plan B: get Sierra out of the kitchen before she called her coworkers over for a protest. A rap sounded at the door.
Perfect! "Sierra, can you answer that?"
She scowled at Chad. "Just don't let him gobble anymore while I'm gone."
"Chad, stop gobbling"
He made a turkey wattle with his hands and gobbled silently behind my friend's back.
I elbowed him as I heard Sierra welcome Parker and Charlie. I got Chad to put the turkey back in the oven for me-my injured shoulder was still in a sling from my run-in with a bullet a week and a half ago. Parker entered the kitchen and kissed my cheek. The greeting seemed like something sophisticated people did. Nothing about me remotely resembled Park Avenue. Why had I ever thought Parker and I went together as a couple?
"Hey, Parker" I soaked in the bandage still around his shoulder. "How are you feeling?"
"Getting back up to speed"
"Good to hear" I smiled behind him at the other redhead. "Hi, Charlie"
I brought my specialty" She pushed a glass bowl into my hands.
"A tossed salad?"
"What can I say? I'm not much of a cook."
We laughed.
Riley arrived next with Amy. I wondered about their relationship. Amy wasn't the type I saw Riley with. I mean, sure, she was pretty and nice. But she wasn't supermodel pretty. Nor was she rich or particularly cultured. Just down-home kind of welcoming. Maybe I'd been too quick to judge Riley.
I glanced at the two talking. Maybe I just didn't want to see anything developing between them. Even if I'd sworn off dating, that didn't mean my feelings were nonexistent.
I'd gotten to know Amy a little better this past Sunday at church. Yes, I'd finally gone. And you know what? The service hadn't been that bad. In fact, I told Riley I'd go back this Sunday.
"You can place your `Turkey Day Item Display' on the table" I pointed to the living room, where I'd cleared out most of the furniture and pushed the couch against the wall. Then I'd connected my dinette to a card table and another folding table and placed a white sheet over all of them. That was our dinner table.
The centerpiece? Everyone's "Turkey Day Item Display." Yes, I thought of that term all by myself. The display was an item
that represented what you were grateful for.
Mine? A college textbook.
I made sure the page it opened to didn't contain any crime-scene photos, though. In two weeks, I'd be taking my final exams. If things worked out the way I wanted, next year at this time, I'd get getting ready to graduate.
I couldn't wait to see what my friends had brought.
"Uh, Gabby. You might want to come in here" Chad's voice seemed abnormally loud coming from the kitchen.
"Coming" I placed the salad on the table and followed the smell of ... smoke ... into the kitchen.
"I think your turkey is on fire."
"On fire?" I glanced at the oven and saw orange flames dancing inside. "How could Dinner catch on fire? We just put him back in there!"
I opened the door, and flames shot out. Riley appeared with a fire extinguisher. Suddenly, my bird really was dead. And covered with white foam, which made Dinner look more like Dessert.
I took my "Kiss the Cook" apron off and threw my uninjured hand in the air. "I was doing so well. I don't understand."
Riley touched the bird with an oven mitt. "It looks like something was stuck to the bottom of the pan"
I straightened. "What?"
"Some type of list"
My list of reasons not to date that I'd written last night! I kept my mouth shut. "Really?"
Riley pointed to a puddle on the counter. "It looks like the pan was set on some grease. So when you put it into the hot oven ..
"It caught fire"
Sierra held up her molded tofu turkey. "Never fear"
I groaned. "Oh, but I do."
Chad picked up the phone. "I know just what to do, Gabby"
I paused, waiting to hear his brilliant plan.
"Chang? I'd like to order some takeout. Let's start with chicken chow mein..
Finally, all the guests arrived and food decorated the uneven table. One thing was for sure: no one would ever forget this menu. Tofu turkey, chicken chow mien, mashed potatoes, a tossed salad, leftover green bean casserole from Bill McCormick, and an ice-cream cake that read "Happy Birthday!" from Amy. She'd found it on sale at the grocery store.
So what if this wasn't the picture-perfect Thanksgiving I'd imagined? Today would be a success whether or not things worked in my favor. After all, I was alive, and Bob Bowling was in jail, awaiting trial for murder, attempted murder, theft, attempted arson ... the list was long.
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