Claw

by Katie Berry

  VanDusen kept his light trained on Christine’s back. Before she turned, she looked to the spot where she’d been trying to hide, and in the stark light saw what it was she’d been trying to snuggle up next to in the cosy, dark little nook.

  Someone had tried to crawl into the small gap between the boulders to hide from whatever had been chasing them, but only got halfway in and then got stuck, unable to go any farther. It seemed the poor unfortunate soul had gotten their arm wedged between the rocks as they tried to hide and had been unable to free themselves. Whatever it was that had been after them had apparently decided to snack on the part of their lower body it could reach and gobbled it up, leaving the top half wedged into the recess. Several bright, white vertebrae from the spinal column protruded from the remains of the chest cavity, along with a few bits of intestine and internal organs, but nothing remained of the lower torso and legs.

  One of the person’s hands peeked out from between the boulders at an odd angle due to the broken arm still wedged into the rock. Its fingers were splayed, as if the person were waving goodbye, saying, “Hey! It’s been fun! Gotta go! See you later!” as they had been devoured alive from the bottom up. The protruding hand was missing the tip of its thumb, most likely from an old woodshop incident in high school.

  Her disgust so overwhelming, Christine had forgotten about VanDusen until he spoke from behind her once more. “All right, keep your goddamned hands where I can see ‘em and step out from behind the fucking tent!”

  “Calm down, Reggie, it’s me, Christine Moon, from the conservation office.” She slowly turned, crimson hands held high.

  “It’s the little chickie!” Chance blurted excitedly.

  VanDusen shouted in surprise, his advice to Chance to keep his voice low seemingly now null and void. “You! What in the hell are you DOING back there?” VanDusen gestured the flashlight on the end the Remington toward Christine, illuminating the blood on her hands.

  “Finger painting?” Christine questioned. She sidled out from the gap between the tent and cavern wall, gore-coated hands still raised high.

  “Move,” VanDusen said, gesturing off to one side with the muzzle of his gun. She obliged and moved over a couple of feet. The chief shone the light into the gap between the boulder and the wall and said, “Holy shit!”

  Chance stumbled up next to VanDusen, surveying the scene. He turned his head and spewed most of the contents of his stomach all over the cavern floor, spraying the police chief’s pant legs in the process.

  “Jesus Christ! Would you watch that shit, Chance!” VanDusen said, jerking his foot back and trying to shake some of the steaming, bright yellow mess from his uniform pants.

  Chance turned to Christine, wiping the sleeve of his parka across his mouth, saying, “Holy Christ! What in God’s name did you do to that poor bastard, lady?”

  “Seriously? Does this look like something a woman would do to another person?” Christine asked.

  “Maybe, maybe not. Then again, you’ve never met my ex-wives!” Chance slurred. “Plus, you never know what a person is capable of when there’s gold involved!”

  “Gold?” Christine inquired.

  “Yeah, gold,” Nichols said as he crunched up on the uneven stone floor behind VanDusen. “There’s no harm in her knowing now.”

  “Bob,” VanDusen started, “What are you doing? Don’t…”

  “Don’t what? Tell her we have a shit-load of gold ore here? Don’t tell her we’ve been keeping it quiet by bumping off anyone who might spill their guts about it? Don’t bother being discrete, Reggie, our lovely, young friend here won’t be leaving this cavern any time soon to tell anyone about any of this.”

  VanDusen remained silent and gestured the end of his Remington toward the middle of the cavern, pointing Christine away from the wall.

  Christine moved, holding her sticky hands high above her head. VanDusen stepped in behind her, his finger resting lightly on the trigger should she try anything funny.

  “Just shoot her!" Chance shouted.

  “Why don't you just shut the fuck up, Ray!" Nichols said. He turned to Christine, waving his flashlight in Christine's face and scowling slightly. "I know you, don't I?"

  “Yes, we met last week, Mr. Mayor. I lead that Girl Guide troupe, don’t you remember? I was just passing through here and thought I’d stop in to see if you wanted any more cookies," Christine said. She was trying to think of a way out of her predicament and recalled Nichols's absentminded comment when he met her last week.

  “That's right. I did see you at city hall last week. Well, this is most unfortunate, as I enjoy a nice Mint Meltie on occasion. And I'm really going to hate myself in the morning for having to dispose of a woman as attractive as yourself. But it's nothing personal; it's just business.” He shook his head slightly, frowning sadly.

  “That’s bullshit, Bob. She’s with the Ministry of Conservation. Snooping around, no doubt, trying to ruin this operation.” He jabbed his gun toward her as he finished his sentence.

  “Wait! Isn't there some way we can work this out? I swear I won’t tell anyone!”

  “That’s exactly what Carl said!” Chance squealed in delight, then giggled merrily. VanDusen joined in with a cackle of his own.

  “W-what do you mean?” Horrified, Christine knew precisely what they meant. Carl had never bugged out, deciding to retire early as everyone had thought. These men had murdered him and had no qualms about doing the same to anyone else that stood in their way.

  “Isn’t it obvious?” Chance smirked.

  VanDusen looked over to Chance, saying, “Yeah, you’re right, Ray! She’s just like Carl!”

  Chance giggled drunkenly again, and responded to the chief with a hard edge in his voice this time, all pretence of mirth gone. “Maybe she can say, ‘Hi’ to Carl on the way down!”

  Nichols cleared his throat and said, “That’s just lovely and all young lady, but the only way this situation is going to resolve itself is with you at the bottom of one of our pits at the back of this cavern. In fact, when I say bottom, that is a bit of a misnomer, because as far as we know these pits have no bottom! Isn't that right, Reggie?”

  “That's right! I don't rightly know how far down they go, but they sure do come in handy for getting rid of busybodies like you!” He poked his shotgun toward Christine.

  “Look, I swear I didn't see anything.”

  “Yes, yes, I'm sure you didn’t. However, it is most unfortunate that you overheard some of the things we said.”

  “But I won't say anything to anybody!”

  “Yeah, it’s hard to speak and scream at the same time when you’re falling down a hole!” Chance enthused drunkenly, clapping his hands together while practically capering with glee.

  VanDusen thrust his shotgun in Christine’s face. “That’s right, Ray!” the chief said, grinning insanely. He tilted his head toward the back of the cavern, ending any further conversation, saying, “Now move!”

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  British Columbia is riddled with thousands of fault lines. The Lower Mainland, along with Lawless and many other towns located in the interior of the province lay directly or indirectly over numerous faults in the earth’s crust. Many of these are primed and ready to experience a slip of enormous magnitude.

  This was something which would have been news to most people in the interior of the province, along with the general population of Lawless as well, up until recently. Had you asked the average resident of Lawless if they were in an area that was safe from earthquakes, they would probably have answered in the affirmative, not suspecting the surprising truth.

  Provincial Highway #4 travels over a snow-capped mountain pass called the Golden Mile. The scenic highway winds its way down the mountainside through beautiful groves of aspen, poplar and pine, finally descending into the bowl-shaped valley that contains Lawless itself.

  In winter, the pass is especially problematic to maintain due to numerous weather systems that move through the are
a. The rest of the year, it had its challenges as well, thanks to some narrower sections of the highway flanked by jagged rock on both sides, which continually shed debris from above like a dog shedding hair. Most years, local rock-scaling crews are kept more than busy from spring through fall. When the snow begins again in late October or early November, it complicates matters considerably once more.

  On the fifteenth of January, one such complication occurred. The earthquake that struck Lawless rattled-open the eyes of everyone in the area, shaking this new earth-moving reality into their complacent little heads. There had been some minor damage to a few of the buildings in town, mostly cracks in some of the foundations here and there, and a few broken pipes as well. But up in the mountains, it had been a different story. The Golden Mile Pass had been inundated by a mix of snow and rock that came tumbling down the mountainside, blocking access into Lawless and cutting it off from the rest of the world.

  Seventy-two hours later, the road had been cleared to limited, single-lane traffic. The Lawless Public Works Department, with the help of Ruby Roads Contracting, worked diligently to clear the blockage, beavering away together on the Lawless side of the slide while the Provincial Highways Department hammered away on the other.

  After the highway had finally reopened, the head Provincial Engineer with the BC Highways Department, Len Maxwell, informed Austin that come springtime, the Province would be back to assist them in doing a full-scale removal of any residual rock up the mountainside that might not have come down in the quake. He also mentioned that the town was lucky that the earthquake had been relatively minor. Anything more significant would have brought down quite a bit more rock — so much more, in fact, that they may have been digging Lawless out for about three weeks instead of three days.

  Since that time, the residents of the area had been warned to make sure their emergency preparedness kits were kept up to date, with at least two weeks of food and fresh water.

  If another quake were to occur, the Provincial Government would have enough on its plate with all of the other major centres requiring assistance, and Lawless could quite possibly be one of the last places that might receive any help. Austin urged everyone attending the town hall meeting after the January quake to make sure they were adequately prepared.

  These thoughts and more were going through Austin’s mind as he approached the main door of the Burger Barn. A sudden tingling started in his legs, almost as if they had fallen asleep while he’d been sitting eating his lunch. Very strange, he thought.

  As he pondered this sensation, the waxed-paper cups stacked ready for use on top of the soda fountain began bumping into each other. This was quickly followed by a musical tinkling sound as the curios all over the restaurant started vibrating against whatever they were attached to as well as each other.

  Dawning realisation made Austin turn, and he hollered at Trip and Alex, still back at their table putting on their parkas. “Earthquake! Get away from the windows now! Get under cover!”

  Already startled by the moving earth, the pair needed little motivation from Austin. Alex’s eyes went wide with fear as he heard his father. He ducked agilely under the table he’d been eating at only moments before.

  Seeing the boy was safe, Trip followed suit, ducking under the table as well. But due to his size, he had to try more of a wedging technique, rather than bending to get himself into the same position, but he still got there with surprising speed.

  Austin jumped back from the entrance door at the last second as the grizzly skull and mirror above it came crashing down, missing him by centimetres. He dove sideways under the nearest table, situated near the main counter. His concern was more with being hit by falling bric-a-brac than the roof of the solid old structure coming down on their heads.

  Across the room, Alex and Trip were still braced under the heavy pine table, holding onto its legs as the room shook around them. His son had a look of utter terror on his face. Glass from the tall windows rained down all around the pair, mixing with the dropping debris, turning it into a razor-sharp rainstorm.

  Austin shouted across the restaurant, “Hang on, buddy! It shouldn’t be too much longer! Stay put with Trip!”

  The quake that hit six weeks before had happened overnight, and Alex had slept through that one. This event was something that his son had never experienced in his fifteen years on the planet and judging by the expression on his face, it was probably the last time he ever wanted to experience anything like this.

  Trip, on the other hand, seemed to be holding up quite well, his face unreadable, showing no emotion. Austin thought he was either very calm at the moment, or completely freaked out and not showing it in order to keep Alex calm as well. Either way, he appreciated it and gave Trip a thumbs-up. Trip raised his eyebrows slightly and returned the thumbs-up to Austin to signal that he’d keep Alex safe.

  At the front counter, Marie took refuge in the archway that lead into the kitchen, placing both of her arms across the door jamb to brace herself. She yelled for her husband, Ed, to get away from the stove and deep fryer.

  With an alacrity that would have put an Olympic hurdler to shame, Ed lept toward the potato prep counter and huddled under the cover that its steel shelves provided.

  High above them all, Ed’s admirable job of shelf building could no longer withstand the vibration from below and the sturdy, reinforced ledge where the Aboriginal Jesus rested tore loose. The hand-carved two hundred kilogram statue swan dived off of its crumbling perch and plummeted headfirst through the middle of the Hey Loft dining area below. It tore through the ceiling of the kitchen, pounding into the steel vent hood over the electric deep fryer, flipping it forward and spraying its searing contents out into the dining area.

  Eighty pounds of boiling vegetable oil spilled out in a searing-hot, golden wave that raced across the kitchen floor, heading directly toward the table under which Austin Murphy was currently hunkered. All around him, bric-a-brac and gewgaws fell from the walls and ceiling, smashing to the ground near his under-table refuge. A large brass spittoon slammed into the tabletop over his head. It bounced off, landing in the smoking oil that still poured toward him. The high-frequency metallic twang the brass container made when it hit the pine table felt as if it had temporarily deafened him in the process, and he shook his head.

  Austin looked for any other options available, but they all sucked. Decor continued to drop down from the walls and ceiling above his head in a deadly deluge. The next table over for possible refuge was too far away to risk relocating, the shaking so strong now. He doubted he could crawl there, even if he tried.

  Only metres away now and travelling fast, the smoking-hot oil poured across the hardwood floor, heading directly toward Austin.

  He had nowhere to go.

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  Christine held her hands in the air and slowly walked toward the back of the cavern, her mind going a million miles a minute as she tried to think of some way out of her predicament.

  VanDusen followed directly behind her; his shotgun levelled at her back. “Keep movin’! There’s plenty of room at the back of the bus.”

  “Somebody knows I’m here! You can’t just dump me!”

  “Sure we can! And that's bullshit anyway!" Chance shouted. "Nobody knows you’re here because nobody knows where HERE is!” He staggered along just to the side of Christine. She watched him walk and noted that he was more than just a few sheets to the wind. Then again, she supposed, you didn’t have to watch him walk to know how drunk he was -- anybody within three metres feet could easily tell from the alcohol fumes pouring off of him. If anyone were brave enough or foolhardy enough to strike a match near the man, they’d be taking their life in their hands.

  “Calm down, Ray,” Nichols said, off to her other side. “The young lady is obviously trying to buy herself some more time and cause us to have second thoughts about disposing of her.”

  “You can’t just kill me, you know, people will come looking for me!”
>
  “Maybe,” VanDusen said, “but people go missing all the time in this big, wild province of ours. And I can bet this is the last place they’ll look. After all, it’s a big forest out there, quite easy for someone to get lost, never to be seen or heard from again! And who’d look in a cave? I’d say it’s easy even for a seasoned conservation officer to disappear around here.”

  Chance finished VanDusen’s thought, slurring, “But then again, even if they found this place, they’d never find you, since you’ll be at the bottom of a frickin’ hole!” He giggled at the thought.

  Christine felt a tremble in her legs as they moved farther back into the cavern. At first, she thought it was either fear or her tired legs cramping once more from the snowshoeing. It turned out to be much, much worse.