Evil Heights, Book IV: In the Pit

by Michael Swanson

  The den and dining area were transformed, and so was Maggie. She was beaming just like Donna Reed on T.V. and wafting about the room.

  "I had them set the new sofa so that we could look out of the picture window.” She was moving about and touching the upholstery like a hostess at a game show displaying the prizes. “Doesn't the coffee table fit just perfect?"

  Lee had to admit the room was transformed. The new sofa and matching love seat weren't rectangular, but curved. They were upholstered in a tightly woven, tan fabric with wide, flat buttons recessed into the centers of the back cushions. Two matching dark brown, leather recliners faced the T.V., sitting where the overstuffed chair had once been. A table with a chrome pole built into the center festooned with black, conical shaped lamps separated the pair. The T.V. was now by the fireplace along the far wall sitting on a stand with magazine racks built in on either side. The loveseat, with its back to the picture window, was opposite the sofa on the other side of the new oval coffee table. On each side of the sofa and love seat were new tables, both of a highly polished golden oak matching the coffee table. Tall, chrome floor lamps with cone shaped black shades were positioned at either end of the sofa. A new rug larger than the old one, but similar in its oriental color and design, stretched out spaciously over the hardwood floor.

  In the dining area, there was a new, dark mahogany dining room table, oblong, not round like the old one, with matching chairs, hutch and china cabinet. Something Lee didn't recognize was up against the far wall by the window. It was a cabinet with two cloth panels on either side.

  Maggie noticed Lee's attention.

  Floating over she lifted up the top. “This is a hi-fi stereo. It has an AM-FM radio and a record player and all in stereo. And I'll warn you kids right now, this is a do not touch. It's very complicated. If either of you want to listen to a record or the radio, you'll have to come and ask, and either me or your father will do the knobs."

  Lee was rightfully impressed. Except for the old-styled ceiling fan and family pictures on the walls, the room looked like an ad from a Sunday circular. The whole place even smelled new.

  Patty was swallowed up in the left hand recliner, bouncing on the seat and pulling back on the arms. “It won't open Mama."

  Maggie walked over and held onto the armrest and pushed on the high back. With but a slight sound of expanding springs, the footrest un-tucked, and the chair spread out. Patty lay back and kicked her feet up and down on the footrest.

  Lee rushed around, skidding on the floor in his socks, eager to try the other recliner.

  "No!” Maggie yelled. She actually blocked him, spreading her arms out wide. “You don't touch anything until you've gotten cleaned up. You're a sweaty mess."

  Lee looked at the beautiful, comfortable new room and knew that if he wanted to relax, the best thing he could do was to stay in his room.

  Thursday morning, Evie Riley's disappearance made the headline of the Lenoir Journal. Pictures of the little girl and of a weeping Darlene were on the front page. Lee had laid the paper out on his bed and knelt on the floor to read the article, as he was afraid to go into the front rooms lest he touch something. Near the end of the article, on page seven, it stated that the family had been considering moving back to Gatlinburg after the recent death of the husband, Boyd Riley, but that Darlene Riley was quoted as saying, “She wasn't going nowhere ‘til she had her baby back."

  "Hey Mom,” Lee called out, standing at the front door. “I'm going out!"

  Maggie stuck her head out of the kitchen. “I don't care. But if you come home dirty, I expect you to come in by the laundry room, you hear?"

  Lee looked at the new room, already hating it.

  Patty, on the other hand, seemed to really be enjoying herself. She was on her stomach, in front of the stereo, with her feet dangling up in the air. A bunch of his dad's Johnny Mathis, Elvis Presley, and Duke Ellington records were strewn about on the rug. Maggie had loaded in five albums on the spindle, so Patty was good for at least a couple of hours. Patty had also been allowed a glass of milk. It was sitting on top of a plate, which was on top of a protective layer of yesterday's newspaper.

  Lee ran down the stairs, sprinted over to Phoebe's, and banged on the door. While he waited, he looked over the Caddy parked in the driveway. Taking in the bald tires, oxidized chrome, and rust around the fender wells; he concluded it might have been something five years ago.

  The door opened. It was Darlene.

  Lee was instantly taken aback. She had dark circles around her red-rimmed eyes, and her skin was pasty gray, resembling old Mrs. Ballard's complexion before she died.

  "Oh, it's you,” she said tiredly. “I guess you're here to see Phoebe.” She turned, leaving the door open, then twisted back around gripping the doorframe. “Have you seen my Evie?"

  Lee hated to have to shake his head.

  Darlene glared back at him resignedly, then called out. “Phoebe! Your boyfriend's here!"

  Lee stood waiting outside the door. Aunt Vivian was in the chair watching the T.V. spin, Uncle Reece was sleeping on the couch, and the brown, half-eaten apple was still on the floor, everything and everybody was almost exactly as he'd seen it on Monday. He was reminded of those before and after pictures, where you're supposed to find the differences between the two illustrations. This would be a tough one. Darlene sitting on the couch was one difference, Uncle Reece had changed positions as his head was now where his feet were the last time Lee had seen him. “That's two,” he counted. “Maybe the pile of garbage on the table is a little higher,” he thought, listing that as three.

  Phoebe came in from the kitchen, carrying a plate with a sandwich on it. She looked haggard too, but at the sight of Lee she brightened.

  Aunt Darlene was at the corner of the sofa, near Uncle Reece's feet. She planted an elbow down on the armrest and put her cheek in her palm propping up her head and looking nowhere in particular, before finally letting her gaze fall on the T.V.

  "Hey, y'all, I'm goin’ out for a minute,” Phoebe announced.

  "Don't you be runnin’ off,” Aunt Darlene said, without taking her head off her hand. “I promised your mama you were gonna stick close to the house."

  "I'll be alright with Lee,” Phoebe replied.

  Aunt Darlene looked at Lee, letting him read her thoughts before turning back to the spinning screen.

  Phoebe started to set her sandwich down, then cast a suspicious glance at Aunt Vivian, who was acting as if she wasn't paying Phoebe any attention. Phoebe, as a second thought, took the sandwich off the plate and stepped outside, closing the door behind her.

  She stepped right up into Lee and kissed him.

  Lee, pleasantly stunned, asked, “What was that for?"

  Phoebe stepped back and playfully bit the corner off the top piece of bread. “It was ‘cause I've missed you, and ‘cause now I'm not leavin'.” She pinched the crust and tore it away in one long piece. She flung it into the yard and then repeated the procedure with the bottom piece of bread.

  "I was hoping that was the case,” Lee said. “I saw in the paper, y'all weren't going to leave until they find Evie."

  Phoebe nodded. “Aunt Darlene's dead set on that."

  Lee reached up under his shirt in back. “Guess what?"

  Phoebe shrugged her shoulders and nibbled on her sandwich.

  Lee had never seen her eat anything before except for the pickled pig's foot from Little's. She hadn't been shy about that at all. However, here, she was taking the tiniest pecks from the bread and chewing so daintily, she reminded Lee of a newsreel he'd once seen of the Queen of England at tea. It distracted him to the point he almost forgot what he was doing. But he came back to himself and whipped the red shorts out from behind his back.

  Phoebe took another meager nibble, then wiped a crumb away from the corner of her mouth. “I was wondering when you'd get around to giving me my shorts back."

  Lee didn't realize she was poking fun. “Sorry, I forgot. I—"


  "Don't worry, silly.” She pushed him with her palm, but then grabbed the shorts.

  He watched her take another tiny bite. “Do the police know anything new about Evie?"

  Phoebe shook her head, then swallowed. “They said that the blood hounds were able to follow her trail out the front door, but it ends at the road. They think whoever took her drove off in a car. They said we should wait for a ransom call."

  "Y'all don't have a phone,” Lee replied immediately.

  "That's what Aunt Darlene told ‘em. Then, she told ‘em the kidnappers would have to be fools, ‘cause we don't have no money neither."

  It wasn't lost on Lee that in saying this she sounded just like her aunt. “I sure hope they find her,” Lee offered with abject sincerity.

  "They only found one of the little black girls, and she was dead,” Phoebe replied, grimly. “Evie really was such a sweet little girl. She really was. Oh, look at that, I'm already talkin’ like she's dead."

  Phoebe moved up and put her arms around Lee hugging him in close. He could feel her body shake as she sniffled.

  "It'll be okay,” he whispered.

  She pulled back. The way that she had her arms around him, her sandwich was in one hand up next to one ear, and her shorts were in the other hand hanging by his other ear. He could smell the sandwich was some kind of tuna fish, and at the same time he knew the shorts needed to be washed.

  She seemed to think for a moment, then briefly cast her eyes to the ground. “I really do like you, Lee."

  "I like you too,” he replied. The way she was looking at him, she was making him so nervous.

  "I've been thinkin',” Phoebe offered hesitantly, biting her bottom lip, the same as he'd seen on the river. “I've been thinkin’ about us."

  Lee's stomach tightened, and his heart skipped a beat.

  "If they find Evie or if they don't find Evie, I'm not gonna be here much longer. I know it. If Aunt Darlene hadn't cried and pleaded to my Mama about her still needing help with the twins I'd be home right now. My daddy was gonna take off work and come pick me up yesterday."

  Lee started to say something, but she shushed him.

  "Hush, I gotta get through this. I like you. I like you more than any other boy I've ever knew. I know my Aunt Darlene told your mom—"

  "Step mom,” he interrupted.

  "She told your step mom lots of bad stuff about me. But, most of it's not true. I mean I do like boys, but I don't like just any boys. You know what I mean?"

  Lee wasn't sure exactly what she as getting at, but he nodded anyway.

  "I want to do something special with you before I go.” She bit her lip again. “Do you know what I mean?"

  Lee's heart was suddenly racing.

  Lee realized he needed to say something. Finally he said, “But you're leaving?"

  She dropped her shorts and put her finger on his chest, drawing it down and up slowly. “I could sneak out and come over to your room, if that'd be okay with you?"

  Lee's heart really did do a flip-flop. “Really?"

  She nodded.

  "Or,” Lee offered, “I could sneak out and come over to your room?"

  Phoebe shook her head. “Our house only has two bedrooms. Aunt Vivian is sleeping in my room now that Evie's gone."

  Lee thought of Maggie catching them. “Maybe we could go out somewhere. I have a tree house."

  Phoebe shook her head again. “I don't want to do it in any tree house. I want to it to be special. I want us to be in a bed."

  Lee said what he was thinking. “I'm afraid of my parents hearing."

  "We'll be quiet.” She'd obviously put some thought into this.

  Lee thought of all the times he'd heard Maggie and his dad in the night. He wondered if they thought they were being quiet.

  "What do you think?” Phoebe persisted.

  Lee didn't know if his nervousness was from fear of being caught or from the realization of the situation. However, he'd made up his mind. “I guess that would be okay."

  She bit her lip again. “What about tonight?"

  Lee swallowed. “Tonight would be alright,” he stammered. “How do you want to do it?” Immediately after saying this he realized the double meaning and felt stupid.

  "I'll wait until everyone's sleepin', then I'll come knock on your window. Which one is it?"

  He couldn't believe he was actually setting this up. “Mine's on the side of the house, over there,” he pointed, “The middle window."

  She continued to share time with her eyes alternating between Lee and the ground. “Is there anything you'd like me to wear?"

  He couldn't think of an answer to this so he just stammered, “Something pretty?"

  "I have a dress,” she came back. “It's blue."

  He swallowed again. “That'll be great."

  She looked much relieved and smiled brightly. “I've gotta go back in. I can hear one of the twin's is cryin'."

  She gave him another quick kiss, then hurried back inside.

  CHAPTER SEVEN: A CALL FROM THE DARK

  Lee, out in the back yard and still working on Flapjack's pond again, remembered that quote again from school about mad dogs and Englishmen out in the noonday sun. Flapjack was hunkered down under the shade of a bush under his dad and Maggie's window. Patty was inside, still listening to records. He could hear a faint tune coming out of the window but couldn't quite make it out. It might have been Elvis, or maybe Johnnie Mathis, from here he couldn't tell.

  He'd gotten up the dirt around the rock he'd hit with the pickaxe yesterday. It didn't look good for the location where he'd chosen to dig the duck pond. This wasn't just a rock, but a slab of limestone, which he'd apparently just hit the top of. At the edge, where he had first begun to dig, was a crack which broadened out and was more than six inches wide where it disappeared into the earth. When he'd first seen the fissure, he'd thought it was a stroke of good luck and the rock was really two pieces, one of which could be removed. But the more he dug, the more it appeared that it was all a massive chunk of the local bedrock.

  He took a break, leaning on the shovel and lifting his cap, he wiped his forehead. It seemed he'd just been over to the garden house to refill his glass a few minutes ago, but the breeze had already blown the empty cup over.

  Letting the shovel fall where it will, he stepped out of the hole and picked up his cup, walking back to the garden hose. The shade under the eave was at least ten degrees cooler than out in the sun. He leaned against the wall and turned on the tap. As soon as the hot water from the section of hose exposed to the sun had passed, he turned the hose on the back of his neck letting the water run down his back.

  Flapjack waddled over, skirting between the bushes and the wall.

  "I bet you think I'm crazy, don't you boy?” Lee asked the duck.

  Flapjack just looked up peering at Lee through one eye, then turned his head slightly to look with the other.

  Lee filled his cup, drank half, then refilled it again.

  He kept a bowl of water and a bowl of food by the back door, just the same as if he had a pet dog. The duck food came from the feed store in twenty-five pound bags. Flapjack didn't each much of it, preferring bugs and worms. Lee calculated that at Flapjack's rate of consumption the bag they had now would last at least a year. Using the hose, he sprayed out Flapjack's water bowl and refilled it.

  Flapjack came out of the shade to check it out, and received a good spraying with the hose, which he probably enjoyed even more than Lee.

  Lee decided to just leave his glass on the back steps. He thought he might as well, as he seemed to drain it each time he took a drink. Turning off the water, he dropped the hose, and then walked back out into the glare. Stepping down into the hole, he picked up the shovel and started digging, sliding the shovel along the slab and prying up wedges of red clay.

  For some reason the pile of dried clumps to the side looked significantly larger than the hole he'd excavated. He calculated, as he heaved another heavy section onto the
pile, he could probably take about another half hour of this and then he'd be ready to get cleaned up to Maggie's satisfaction so that he could sit in the couch and listen to records with Patty.

  The shovel made a skittering sound every time he ran it down on the rock. Once it bit into the dirt, he'd plant a foot down on it and drive it in as deeply as he could, before using the rock as a fulcrum to pull the shovel handle down and break out another wedge. It was slow going, and he wasn't in a hurry. Besides, he couldn't really feel the work or the sun as he was mainly thinking about Phoebe and tonight.

  There was the sound again. Only this time it was much clearer than before. He stopped in mid-stroke of the shovel, being still to make sure he'd heard it for real. It sounded again, and this time there was no mistaking the source. It was coming from the exposed crevice.

  It stopped, but came back even stronger, a shrill cry echoing through the earth. Lee dropped the shovel and knelt down. It died away, once again leaving him wondering if he'd really heard it.

  He took his cap off and wiped his stubbly hair. After the trip to the hardware store for the locks his dad had brought him over to the barber to freshen up his burr haircut. He was enormously grateful for being a boy with short hair. This led him to think of Phoebe with her ponytail, and how she'd looked when she'd come over the other morning with her hair down. He immediately hoped she'd be wearing her hair down tonight.

  The far off echoes of a piercing scream slipped up through the rock, the real terror and pain was so sharp, Lee jumped.

  "Damn!” he said out loud. He'd remembered hearing a scream almost exactly like that when Belinda Harris had fallen off of the jungle gym in second grade and broke her left arm. He'd actually got to see the bone sticking out of the skin below the elbow. She hadn't stopped screaming even as Mrs. Fraley had carried her away to the nurse's office.

  The scream fell away dying down to horrifically pathetic sobs. He bent all the way down, putting his ear to the crack. He could feel cool air against his cheek, and it smelled chill and wet.

  It came from so far off it sounded like one of the antique 78 rpm records his dad had brought down out of the attic, but he could make it out as a child's voice. He heard “No, please, please, please, please, pl—” immediately broken by a cry so shrill and sharp it chilled him to the bone.