STRANGER WORLD

by Jack Castle

  At this George abruptly stopped his search and popped up behind the counter. He removed the stolen dagger he kept tucked in his belt and came out through the small wooden swinging door.

  “Stay here,” he said sternly.

  George moved toward the back of the store. He noticed Maddie watched how he moved and carried the blade concealed behind his wrist, but ready for action. Before today she had never really seen her old man in action.

  Rounding the aisle George could immediately tell the sleeping man was actually not sleeping at all, but a full-on corpse. The sunken cheeks, the blackened skin, and milky-white eyes were a sure giveaway, and told him the man had been dead for a very long time. The cadaver was wearing cargo shorts, brown boots, knee-high socks, and a bush hat. George couldn’t see any obvious signs of injury, or indication of how he died. An old-style lantern, somehow still burning, lay brightly beside him.

  Maddie, tentatively walking up the aisle behind him, said, “He’s dressed like a jungle explorer.”

  Barnaby, standing safely behind Maddie, offered, “Maybe he’s one of the tour guides.”

  “Maddie, you shouldn’t be seeing this. Go back and wait by the counter with Barnaby.”

  His daughter overrode him hastily. “I’m okay, Dad. I can handle it. I’ve seen dead bodies before.”

  George narrowed his eyes and turned toward her. “You’ve seen dead bodies before?”

  Maddie nodded, exaggerating the movement when she did so, and whispered determinedly, “In movies. Oh, and don’t forget Grandma’s funeral.”

  Normally George would put his foot down. This was not something a nine-year-old girl should be seeing. But if his suspicions were correct, this little adventure was far from over. In fact, he suspected this might be only the beginning. After nearly getting killed several times in the last twenty-four hours, he needed to consider the fact he might not be around to see her all the way through it to the end. So he needed to start training her. And fast.

  “Alright, kiddo. You can stay and watch. But the moment you feel sick or just want to walk away, do it. Understand?”

  Again, the exaggerated head nod.

  George knelt down next to the lifeless man and began a more thorough search. Talking to no one in particular, he said aloud, “I don’t see any wounds on him. It’s like he sat down and died.” He suddenly recalled how he had felt in the tunnels below. How if he and Maddie had never found an exit, they’d have to sit down with their backs to the wall, (much the way this poor chap had done), and simply let go. But why? Jungle Jim here had plenty of food, water, even a vehicle out front. Why had he simply give up?

  Maddie suddenly gulped and asked, “Dad, you don’t think he’ll come back to life, do you? You know, like a zombie?”

  George couldn’t help but laugh, in spite of the dire circumstances. “Why not? We’ve already seen Fairies today.”

  “And don’t forget Buttercup,” Maddie cut in.

  “A robot horse,” George agreed.

  “The hover drone,” Maddie added.

  “Sure.” George laughed. “Why not zombies.” When he saw Maddie’s face go serious he quickly added, “Don’t worry, I’m only teasing you, he’s not a zombie, he’s dead.”

  George reached for the man’s vest hoping it might offer up something useful, but even as he did so, even he had to admit, a small part of him was waiting for Jungle Jim to spring to life and grab him.

  But thankfully, the deceased tour guide didn’t budge.

  As George continued to rummage through the dead guy’s pockets for anything useful, he ticked off each item aloud as he slid them back toward Maddie. “Okay, I’ve got matches, a lantern, another flashlight…”

  “What about the canteen on his belt?” Maddie asked.

  “I’m not taking that, he might’ve been sick. Oh, this is good. A first aid kit. Maddie, here, take this.”

  “Okay,” she answered behind him. “Where do you want me to put all this stuff?”

  “Put it in my backpack for now.”

  With him kneeling down it was easy enough for her to reach his pack and she began loading up their recently absconded supplies.

  “Okay, but you’re running out of room in here.”

  George scanned the gift shop. Ah, Bingo. “Barnaby, go grab those backpacks over there, would ya?”

  Barnaby, who was constantly checking over his shoulder at the front door, jumped slightly at the sound of his name. It took him a moment to realize what George had said to him, but once he did he nodded and grabbed two packs labeled, “Dino-Town U.S.A.” The packs were cheap imitations--unlike the rustic rucksack Maddie had found in the old truck--but they’d do for now.

  Barnaby tossed one to George and kept one for himself. Without saying why, they both began moving with a lot more urgency than before. George suspected Barnaby’s reason was due to the dead body. But for George, it was more than that, he just couldn’t articulate why, not even in his own mind.

  After loading up all three packs with food and supplies he handed one of the cheap packs, now filled to the brim, to Maddie. “Here, this one’s yours.”

  Maddie allowed him to help her into the straps, but she refused to let go of her stuffie while doing it. After tightening the straps for her as far as they would go (and it was still big on her), he could see she was barely holding it together. The stress of the day was really beginning to wear on her. So he knelt down and asked, “Hey kiddo, you doing okay?”

  A single tear rolled down her cheek and her voice croaked when she answered, “Okiely-dokely.” It was something her mother used to say when she wasn’t fine but would never admit it. George hugged her fiercely. It went without saying, but he’d die before he let anything happen to her. Then again, he didn’t have that luxury now, did he, because if he died, she’d be sure to follow.

  As he hugged her, Maddie whispered in his ear, “Can we go now? I don’t like this place anymore.”

  “You got it, baby-girl.”

  Releasing her, George rose to his feet. “There’s just one more thing I have to check first.”

  George half-jogged to where he had seen an old phone booth earlier. It was built right into the wall. Of course the old-style rotary phone didn’t work. But that wasn’t what bothered him most. No, what caused him the most concern was the entire gas station and gift store belonged in the 1950’s. The cash register, the lighting, lack of plastic bottles--there wasn’t a single modern convenience found anywhere inside or out. But everything, the doors to the phone booth, the floors, all of it, seemed as though it were built yesterday. And yet, this perfect replica of a 1950’s gas station and gift store, and everything in it, was covered in a decade’s worth of dust, if not more.

  Where are we?

  Chapter 18

  “The Bunkhouse”

  Packs on their backs, Maddie with German shepherd stuffie in hand, the three of them exited the gift shop. They walked past the antiquated fuel pumps (that really weren’t old at all), and came to stand in the middle of the road.

  No moon or stars were to be had, and were it not for the warm glow of the gas station lights they would’ve been enshrouded in total darkness.

  From their current vantage point they could no longer see the single street lamp in the parking lot outside the canyon from where they had come from. And the road heading out of the opposite side of town went right into the beginnings of a bonafide jungle. George wasn’t fond of the idea of traipsing around through such a formidable-looking woods on a dark, moonless night.

  Barnaby was the first to speak. “What now?”

  George hefted his pack. “We can either bunk down in the gift shop for the night or take our chances down the road.”

  Maddie gazed into the dark jungle and made a face. Clearly this idea appealed to her about as much as it did to him.

  “What…what about that place?” Barnaby pointed to the building across the road.

  George turned and lit it up with his flashlight. What he had first
mistaken for a building was actually a set of thick steel walls. Moving closer and along its perimeter George saw metal turret towers on the corners, and a formidable steel gate for an entrance. The overall feel was designed to keep something out. A very BIG something.

  George thought about the tours of the dino-dig sites. Must all be for show. Probably just a hotel in there or something.

  “We could sleep in there,” Barnaby offered.

  “Seems safe enough,” Maddie agreed, and started for the gate.

  Maddie… he was about to say, but at this point he was too tired to even call after her.

  As they passed through the gates George noted one of the doors was hanging halfway off its hinges, as though a truck or something had smashed into it, caving it in. Not a good sign. He decided not to share this with Maddie. They didn’t find a hotel. Instead there was a singular, two-story long rectangular building with wooden slats. It reminded George of an old bunkhouse he had seen once at a mining camp ghost town.

  Fourteen-foot walls encircled the entire compound and barely kept the encroaching jungle at bay. In the grassy courtyard they saw remnants of a volleyball court, picnic area, and basketball hoop. Like at the gas station, the grass had not been mowed in a long time, and the volleyball net had dissolved away a long time ago.

  He heard Maddie’s rapid footsteps as she raced up the set of wide stairs of the bunkhouse’s main entrance. Peering inside one of the unlocked doors she cried, “We can sleep in here, I see beds inside!”

  George and Barnaby joined Maddie at the bunkhouse’s entrance. As they eased open the doors they creaked so loudly George thought they might see a ghost at any moment.

  Maddie crossed the threshold and George thought he saw her immediately shiver. “Hello?” she cried out softly.

  No answer.

  He and Barnaby entered next. George used his foot to probe the floor for cracks or loose planks, testing the floorboards, one foot at a time. “Seems solid enough.”

  A breath of frigid air seemed to sweep in around them. Maddie looked over her shoulder and George found himself wondering if he had imagined the rush of air.

  “Kinda creepy,” Barnaby breathed.

  The place was bathed in shadows. Their flashlights washed over the walls and ceiling. A disturbed scorpion crawled out of a rotted plank on the wall.

  “Hello?” Maddie said a second time. She frowned.

  George got the sense someone was here, but saw nothing more than more shadows.

  Maddie moved deeper within and Barnaby joined him. Lowering his voice the account breathed, “This house makes me feel… weird.” He then looked over at George. “Can a house be, I dunno, haunted?”

  George raised an eyebrow. “No, it’s just a house. Knock it off. You’re gonna scare Maddie.”

  “I’m not scared,” Maddie said, eavesdropping just ahead of them. She was standing next to a long line of beds alongside the wall, and on the other side of the room they could see an open dining room.

  George snapped open a metal cover to a breaker box. He smiled a little when he saw Barnaby practically jump out of his skin. He scanned the breakers and found about half of them in the off position.

  “You don’t think…” Barnaby began.

  “I don’t see why not? The gas station and gift shop across the street still have power.” Barnaby nodded.

  “I suppose it’s worth a shot,” George mused, and threw the switch.

  A few lightbulbs burst as soon as he flipped the switch but the majority of the lights snapped on, lighting the interior and exterior of the compound.

  “That was unexpected,” Maddie said matter-of-factly, fiercely clutching her stuffed German shepherd.

  Like the gas station, everything inside seemed to have been built in the post W.W. II era. The lamps, sconces on the walls, even the fuse box; all of it belonged to an age gone by. And the builders were meticulous in their construction. The floorboards were tacked with nails, not wood screws, and any exposed wiring was thick and heavy--try as he might, George couldn’t find a single modern assembly.

  It’s like we went back in time. A wave of exhaustion swept over him and George’s knees buckled slightly. Whoa, I am way more tired than I thought. Instead he said, “Yeah, this should do nicely.”

  Still clutching her stuffie, Maddie said, “Just as long as there are no zombies inside. I hate zombies.” Then moving over to the nearest of bunk beds, sheets and pillow made up perfectly, she said, “I call this bed,” and created a cloud of dust when she patted the top cover.

  “Fine by me,” Barnaby was already stretching out on the bed next to hers.

  Seeing this George asked him, “Barnaby, what are you doing?”

  Barnaby gave him a dumbfounded look. “I thought we were bunking down for the night.”

  Not hiding the irritation from his voice George responded by saying, “How about we secure the area first?”

  “Dad, what about your leg?”

  “Don’t worry about my leg, honey, I’m fine.”

  “But you really need to get off it.”

  “Sweetheart, trust me, it’s fine. As soon as Barnaby and I secure the complex, I promise to clean it up and change the bandage.”

  Much like her mother Maddie responded with, “Uh-huh. You stay put, Mister,” and was already pulling the First Aid kit out of his backpack and spreading its contents on her bed.

  George knew better than to argue.

  As George sat on the bed and began removing his bandage Barnaby strode up to him and explained, “While you guys do that, I’m going to check upstairs, and have a look around.”

  “Sure,” George said with a little more fervor than he intended. To soften the blow he added, “Just be careful,” but Barnaby was already gone.

  As Barnaby headed for the stairs, Maddie signaled him with her finger to lean in closer. When he did she checked to see if Barnaby was listening. Certain that he was gone she whispered, “Dad, please be nice to Barnaby. He’s our friend.”

  George managed a weak smile, but what he was really thinking was… Stupid, stupid smelly cat all over again.

  Seeing Maddie was giving him an even harder stare he teased, “Do I have to?”

  “Yes,” she answered seriously.

  After cleaning his wound and applying a fresh bandage, Barnaby soon returned, and it didn’t take them long to search the premises. First the two of them went back outside, swung the big metal door closed, and threw the bolt. Although heavily dented the door seemed as though it had held against its attackers.

  “That should keep just about anything out.”

  “Didn’t do much for the poor chap at the door,” Barnaby complained reflexively.

  “You saw the blood?”

  Barnaby’s head bobbed up and down. “Yeah, when we first came in earlier.” He then removed a white handkerchief and blotted the sweat gathering on his forehead.

  George was impressed. Barnaby had seen the blood on the door but didn’t say anything in front of Maddie out of concern for frightening her.

  Good man.

  Circling the building George could see the steel-wall perimeter was secure.

  Once back inside they locked the door and blocked the main entrance with heavy filing cabinets for added protection. A cool breeze had sprung up outside so George was pretty confident they would all sleep soundly.

  As much as he wanted to go to sleep he decided there was still one more thing. Since they had lost their weapons underground, and still hadn’t found any to replace them, he grabbed a nearby broom. First he snapped off the handle and then, using duct tape he found in a drawer, he attached the dagger he had stolen from the guards in the glen--the end result being a crude spear. He then tossed the duct tape to Barnaby and said, “You should probably do the same thing just in case we get any nocturnal visitors.”

  “Alright.” He scanned his surroundings and not seeing anything Barnaby spluttered, “I don’t see another broom.”

  George pointed toward a
utility closet.

  Barnaby nodded, and by the time George had checked the interior of the bunkhouse one last time Barnaby had fashioned a pretty good spear with his own dagger.

  “Anything else?” Barnaby asked humbly.

  It was Barnaby’s subservient stance and eyes cast at the floor that made George pity the man for the first time. He and Maddie had only lived in this strange and terrifying world for about a day-and-a-half. He couldn’t fathom what it must have been like for Barnaby trying to survive for years.

  “No, I think we’re good,” George responded softly. He was about to say thanks, but thought better of it. Pity and trust were two different things. Besides, Barnaby had already shuffled off toward his bed.

  Maddie was sitting cross-legged on her bed above the covers.

  “I thought you’d be sleeping.”

  “Not tired.” Maddie yawned.

  Past her, Barnaby plopped down on his own bed. The bedsprings groaned as he began unlacing his shoes. “Boy are my dogs barking.”

  George smiled as he saw Maddie’s look of confusion; her eyes darting about for the aforementioned dogs. “What dogs?”

  Also seeing her confusion Barnaby explained, “Um, not literally. It’s just an old expression.”

  George and Tessa never did understand why Maddie always delighted in making friends with people other than her own age. Sometimes it was the old woman in the big straw hat down the street always outside tending her garden. Other times it had been the little tykes next door. But she never seemed to gravitate toward kids her own age. When asked about this she would explain that she pretty much knew what kids her own age were thinking. She just was more curious about what the grownups thought, or she delighted in sharing what she knew with younger kids.

  “Are you going to bed yet?” she asked him.

  “I will. I just want to check the doors and windows one more time.”

  By the time he did Maddie was fast asleep. He lay down on the bed Maddie had turned down for him. He hadn’t even closed his eyes when Maddie had abandoned her own bed, crawled into his bed, and snuggled up into the crook of his shoulder.