Hadrian's Wall

by Felicia Jensen

  The girls wore bikinis or swimsuits with colorful beach wraps tied around their waist or sarongs tied around the bust. The guys were shirtless and wore baggy shorts with low waists, like the surfers I’d seen on television.

  No one seemed uncomfortable with everyone being scantily clad...except me. Where I came from, people did not leave their house dressed like that, not even to go to the swimming pool. I felt like one of the bit players in one of those TV shows that took place on the beaches of California—hunky lifeguards and women with silicone breast implants that looked like they were about to fall out of their bikini top. It was hard to control my laughter...but I did.

  The first familiar face I saw was Sally. She wore a beautiful yellow bikini, with a huge fringed scarf which she’d discreetly tied around her hips. I realized she was barefoot, but had a rhinestone bracelet around her ankle. Sally saw me standing in the doorway and motioned for me to join the small group that had formed near the stairs. Standing with her was Nikos, David, and two guys I hadn’t met before. She introduced us and soon I heard learned that both Jack and Billy were studying exact sciences at Uwall.

  The three intended to be mechanical engineers. Jack dreamed of working with aircraft engines—especially those manufactured for military jets. Billy and Sally shared the same dream—to develop their own concept of a vehicle on four wheels. Putting together what they told me with the fragments of conversation that was already circulating when I arrived, I realized that the three of them were working hard on an engine for a racecar. It was Sally’s project. She planned to sell the engine model for the major automotive brands, but for the business to work out, first they had to get the attention of industry giants for... How did they put it? The “product.” Nothing better than a dark horse winner to achieve this feat. The perfect opportunity was coming. Soon they’d would participate in a very prestigious car race, but there was still a big challenge ahead—finishing the adjustments to the engine before the date set for the race.

  I was impressed. Less than two months ago, I never would have imagined that I’d be meeting people like this.

  Now I understood Sally’s fascination with Adrian’s super machine. Well, she didn’t need encouragement to express her interest again, so she did! As soon as Jack and Billy moved away, she began probing me about the possibility of meeting him so that she could see his legendary collection of cars.

  I tried to be evasive without appearing unsympathetic. At one point in the conversation, I thought I had succeeded in not committing myself with regard to a “visit” for her to Adrian’s garage. I mean, I still didn’t know if I’d get such a chance myself because those guys really believed that I was great friend of the Cahill family. This put me in a difficult position. How they would treat me if they knew I was no more than a “charity case” for the most powerful family in the region?

  I swallowed hard.

  * * *

  Although the sun was near the horizon, the heat it was still intense. I moved into the shade of one of the pillars on the porch. I was bored and hot. By this time of the year, the heat wave should have been over, but there was no sign that it would end any time soon.

  Nik offered me a sip of beer. I was really thirsty, but I didn’t want to have anything alcoholic, so I declined. I knew there would be plenty of booze at the party. I’ve never been a drinker and I didn’t want to start now. He shrugged and drank straight from the bottle.

  Delilah appeared. “Hey, guys! Has anyone seen Dwayne?”

  “He went to get his car,” David informed her. “He said he’d try to park on the corner, if he could find a space. Whoever wants a ride had better hurry because he won’t wait long. Violet and Janice must already be there.”

  “Is there still room for us?” Delilah asked, looking a little worried.

  I hugged the band around my chest, thinking that it would provide a great excuse not to go.

  “If Dwayne doesn’t have room, you can come with us,” Sally offered, her voice clearly reluctant. She glanced from me to Delilah as if to say, ‘You’re welcome, she’s not.’

  “Come on!” Delilah grabbed my hand, shooting an imperious glance at Sally over her shoulder. “Abby! David!”

  Sally gave a cynical laugh. The rivalry between those two seemed increasingly bizarre.

  Apparently I was the novelty of the week. Now I understood what a poor bone must feel when two hungry dogs fight over it. I tried to console myself, believing the girls would soon lose interest on me. In time I would become as anonymous and insignificant as I was before—at least that’s what I expected.

  As we walked along the sidewalk, we heard the insistent honking of a horn. Dwayne Preston stuck his arm out of his car window and waved at us. Janice and Violet were standing near the rear door of his car, chatting. I heard Abby stop beside me and mutter, "Whenever I see him, he’s surrounded by women.”

  I walked in silence, sneaking a quick peek inside the vehicle. I couldn’t use the “lack of space” excuse. Dwayne’s 4x4 was very spacious and comfortable. I climbed in and sat in the far corner of the back seat.

  My peace was short-lived because soon the girls got in and squeezed themselves into the seat beside me. For a moment I was afraid they were going to squash me. David arrived, then excused himself for bumping us as he wedged himself between us. Thus began the laughter and the funny little games. Violet sat on David’s lap and glanced in the rearview mirror where Dwayne was watching the whole scene.

  Delilah, who was sitting in the front seat, turned around and asked, “Are you guys comfortable?”

  “Very funny!” said Abby, who had just sat down on the floor with her legs crossed, leaning against David’s and Janice’s legs.

  We all laughed at the situation. I didn’t want to seem like a wet blanket, so I thought I’d better not complain about being crammed into the corner. I tried to protect my ribs by resting against the door.

  Dwayne climbed into the driver’s seat, slammed the door, and started the engine.

  “Come on, folks! Yo, Joe!”

  Many cars were already turning around to head out, but some were still waiting for the arrival of latecomers.

  Well, I knew one thing—the party was not open to the entire student population, only the freshmen. “Is this a kind of welcome party?” I asked. From what I understood, this was something that always occurred in the first week of classes.

  Dwayne glanced at me in the rearview mirror and responded, “I don’t think so. The fraternity guys never organize events like this for freshmen. The ‘welcome party’ is a separate event organized by the rectory’s staff. It’s the only opportunity we have to see face of the magnificent rector up close,” Dwayne said, laughing.

  They began to tell anecdotes about the rector and the directors of the university’s departments, but I didn’t pay much attention. I entertained myself by watching the landscape. Occasionally, a few cars passed by us and I looked at the people inside them, enjoying an old game I played inside my head—creating the life stories of strangers.

  I didn’t see Stephen’s pickup anywhere, which made me feel relieved and worried at the same time. I was relieved because nobody would see me traveling with a “royal escort,” but I was worried because it might be a sign that Adrian was tired of playing the role of nanny. This would explain the withdrawal of the bodyguards or “guardians” as he called them.

  No! He promised to keep me safe. I could doubt everything except his word. Stephen had to be out there somewhere. I remembered that I’d heard the noise in my bedroom, I’d seen the unlocked window, and I wondered if could not have been him.

  Delilah turned on the stereo at full volume. the frenetic beat of the music dominated the interior of the car. She beat her palms on the dashboard, keeping time with the music. Around us the town looked peaceful compared to the turmoil that reigned in the car. I wanted to be out there on the lake shore.

  Soon everyone was singing along with the lead singer. To be honest, they shouted more than sang,
amidst the laughter. I smiled, pretending to like the song. I soon realized that we were driving around the lake on a country road near the Mountain of Polish Man. A few curves later, the road straightened out and we crossed a stone bridge decorated with colorful ceramic tiles. It was a very different structure than anything I’d seen before, but fascinating! It connected the two opposite banks of Bluewater Lake on the stretch where the lake narrowed, forcing one arm of the lake into the greenest area I’d ever seen. This drastic change in the shape of the lake created an amazing visual contrast between the intense green of the trees and the bright blue waters. I’d never seen landscape like this—not even in movies.

  Now we were driving along the cliffs and rocky beaches whose stones seemed to hurl their sharp claws at the sky. The road sign indicated the area where we were, so it became increasingly easy to associate the events mentioned in Joe Verano’s article to what I was seeing with my own eyes, giving wings to my imagination!

  In the mysterious Forest Green-Screen, the party of empiric guys reached its apogee. While the ultimate flames in the campfire were burning, the mysterious sounds reported by witnesses began. In my head I saw the same beast that I thought I’d found in South Portland. It approached surreptitiously, its big paws kneading the dry sticks during its passage.

  Around the campfire, someone less drunk than the others would have heard the crackling, partially obscured by laughter and loud music. He would have been standing, would have thrown the bottle to the side, and would have walked toward the trees. The sound would be repeated—this time louder and accompanied by grunts. For someone less inebriated, just the heavy steps would have been enough to make him understand that he was not human. Therefore, the survival instinct should have made the guy turn around and flee, but he didn’t.

  Tottering, he would enter in the woods...and in a moment of silence would ask the fateful question—the question which was always asked in the horror films and which always made me angry. “Hello? Is anybody there?” In response, he would hear a low, menacing growl. His eyes would widen and the hairs on the back of his neck would stand on end. Then he stumble back to the campfire.

  The car lurched enough to dispel my cinematic fantasies. Through the window I saw that we had left the Bluewater’s shore and the odd bridge behind. Now we were entering a less dense part of the forest. There we came to a crossroads. The road sign consisted of very old wooden boards, but apparently they were sturdy and indicated three directions. Dwayne took the path to the right, leading us onto a dirt road that had many hairpin turns.

  The road ended at a large clearing, which was frequently used for camping. Evidence of that was everywhere—garbage bags piled high, beverage cans left on the picnic table. Banners hanging on the façade of the huts testified that the sewing club had celebrated its fifth year. I don’t know whether before or after the cooperative of potatoes promoted its reunion or the former members of the fishing club...

  There were a total of three log huts that marked the boundary between the meadow and the forest. All were closed, except the largest of the three—one with an annex of concrete and bricks where barbecue grills were visible. The place was transformed into the headquarters of an animated group of guys who wore yellow T-shirts that read “The Wallpaper’s Today F.E.”

  (...) It’s not because she belongs to the same species that the yellow mantles will be complacent with her...They can be much more cruel to their own kind than us...in old times. (...) I shook my head, trying to ward off intruding thoughts. Why am I remembering that now?

  Dwayne carefully maneuvered his 4x4 amongst the cars that were parked near the main hut. Nearby, I saw a large group of noisy freshmen. They surrounded a small team of guys wearing the same yellow T-shirts as the staff in the hut. They seemed like dogs bouncing around the yellow coaches!

  I immediately felt relief when I got out of the car. The strap binding my ribs was killing me! Now that I was able to stand, it wasn’t so bad. I took a few uncertain steps in the direction of my group, attentive to what was happening ahead.

  The guys in yellow had started collecting the beverages brought by the freshmen. In exchange, the freshmen received a kind of pass. Ahead was a narrow path that disappeared into the trees. Other guys in yellow were checking the passes presented by the freshmen lined up in front of them.

  I heard a click behind me. I turned in time to see Dwayne and David lifting a Styrofoam cooler from the rear compartment of Dwayne’s 4x4. They carried the box to the yellow-shirted staff members and waited their turn to get our passes.

  “What does ‘F.E.’ mean?” I asked Delilah.

  “What?” She looked at me, confused.

  I pointed to the yellow shirts of the staff.

  A glimmer of understanding came into her eyes.

  “Oh...it means ‘Fraternity of the Empirical’—in honor of Marcellus Empiricus, a renowned scholar of Celtic origin. It’s the oldest fraternity of UWall, but it’s not the only one.” Delilah began counting on her fingers. “We still have the Ogham, which in the Celtic language means “alphabet of the trees”; the Massalia, in honor of the renown center of learning of the ancient Celts; the Asiatic League Emma-o, which consists of a directory of its own and three other smaller fraternities; and the Mother Goddess, in honor of the greater goddess of Celtic mythology. Ogham and the Mother Goddess are both female fraternities and coordinate the activities of two specific sectors of the university. The Ogham is responsible for organizing the university library and the Mother Goddess promotes the cultural and artistic events, as well as streamlining aid to students who come from afar.”

  “Wow, Delilah! You’re a regular encyclopedia!”

  We both laughed, but there was seriousness in her voice when she said, “In terms of what happens in Hadrian’s Wall, I really am.”

  I stopped laughing, transfixed by a strange feeling.

  “Why?”

  Delilah didn’t pretend that she didn’t understand.

  “It has to do with the dark clothes you wear, right?” I insisted.

  She laughed without humor. “You might say so, but not the way you’re thinking.”

  “And what am I thinking?”

  If she answered me, I didn’t know because David chose that moment to join us.

  “The last passes were distributed and no freeloaders will be allowed in.” He rubbed his hands cheerfully. “We must go there to hear the instructions.”

  “Why?” I asked, confused.

  He shrugged.

  “Verano’s parties are always full of rituals and mysteries.”

  A movement among the other freshmen caught our attention and the conversation stopped there. Intrigued, I watched car owners begin to hand over the keys to the guys in yellow. Some went running back to their own cars, hastily pulling off T-shirts and shoes. Some guys in yellow overtook them to demand the car’s keys. Meanwhile, others in yellow had already started the engine and drove the cars out of the clearing, leaving many owners standing there looking stunned.

  I spun on my heels and saw Dwayne cornered by two guys in yellow. He was reluctant to hand over the keys to his 4x4. I approached cautiously to better hear the discussion.

  “Why do I have to take off my clothes and hand over my car keys to you?” Dwayne asked, visibly irritated.

  One of the boys smiled ironically.

  “Rules are rules, freshman.”

  “But you’ve always announced the rules in advance. What’s this now? What do you want, guys—that we jump in the dark?”

  One of the guys started to laugh as if Dwayne had told a very funny joke. Soon the two in yellow were laughing. By the look on Dwayne’s face, I knew he felt like a dweeb.

  “Almost...” The guy who seemed to be leading the group of yellow shirts finally answered. “If it’s any consolation to you, man, be aware that Joe changed a few of our rules when he heard that we would have one...special...guest.”

  Dwayne narrowed his eyes, turned to us, and then turned to them again
.

  “Anyway, you’re already in the game,” the young man insisted. His frown disappeared. “Can’t go back now.”

  Another guy in yellow gestured to us to follow him to the trail.

  With an exasperated sigh, Dwayne began to take off his shoes. He tied his shoelaces together and hung his shoes around his neck. He stood up, took off his cap, turned it inside out and placed his sunglasses and car keys in it. The others were following his example.

  I stood still, watching. Upon seeing Delilah untie her beach wrap, I panicked! What should I do now? Should strip down to panties and bra? No way!

  “What’s happening here? I don’t have a good feeling about this.”

  Delilah heard me and replied, “Bullshit, you’ll have fun.”

  I hate parties. They’re never enjoyable for me. Like a flash, I remembered the last time I attended the one with the “Hypothetical Carmen” and her “Hypothetical Boyfriend” and my “Hypothetical Blind Date.” Oh, don’t forget the “Hypothetical Simon Creed” too. I remembered the school parties as well...how I avoided every social event like the devil runs away from the cross or the vampire from the garlic. Every time I couldn’t escape, it always ended badly. Oh, now I see. You have a phobia of parties. Come on, spoiled girl!

  The supposed leader of the yellow-shirt guys sent someone to collect our belongings. The guy looked pleased when he saw the girls’ swimsuits, but not so when he saw my pants and T-shirt. He gave Dwayne a pat on the back and said, “Rest assured, Preston. Your car will arrive safely at the other side of the lake.”

  Before any of us could ask why they were taking the cars away, we were led to the other side of the clearing where two fraternity guys waited to collect the latecomers’ passes.

  I caught the two guys exchanging a brief glance when it was my turn to pass. At that moment I thought it was because I was still wearing my clothes, but then I heard one of them mention the name “Cahill.”

  Am I hallucinating? Did I just imagine they said that name? Well, there was some truth in the hallucinations of Mel Gibson in Conspiracy Theory. The possibility that there was truth in my madness began to seem more and more concrete in my head, especially when I spied a group of pale, silent people gathered near the trail head. They were very quiet compared to the freshmen. They didn’t seem to be in a hurry to join the rest of the people.