Lee jumped up and ran for he house, yelling, “Maggie! Maggie!"
He burst in the door, slipping on the laundry room floor and banged into the washer with a large hollow boom. “Maggie! Maggie!"
Lee heard a crash just before he ran into the kitchen. Maggie had dropped a bowl.
She glared at him, “For Heaven's sake, Lee!"
"Maggie, you've gotta come listen.” He grabbed her arm and pulled.
She pulled back, but Lee was stronger. Maggie grabbed for the sink, but only got the dishtowel, so she carried it with her as Lee dragged her outside. At the door she was able to brace herself.
"Lee have you gone crazy? What in God's name-?"
He tugged at her arm. “Someone's hurt. I heard it."
Grudgingly, and shielding her eyes, she stepped outside.
Lee let go and ran over to the hole, jumping in, and going down on his knees.
Maggie followed over holding the dishtowel in a fist over her eyes.
"What? What'd you hear?” she asked.
Lee looked up. “It came from in the rock. It sounded like a little girl. She screamed."
Patty had come to the back door and stuck her head out. “Mama, what's going on?"
Maggie waved without looking back, “Hush Patty, we're listening for something."
After a while, Lee had to admit, Maggie had given it an honest listen, but nothing more was forthcoming from the fissure.
Maggie stood, looking down at Lee, until finally she let the hand with the dishtowel drop. “Lee, I think maybe you've gotten a little too much sun."
"Honestly, Mom,” he tried the Mom approach. “I heard it. I swear. Someone was screaming."
"Lee, I think you'd better come in now,” Maggie said, surprising Lee because she didn't sound angry. “You take a cold shower, and I'll make some lemonade."
"Mom,” he protested.
Her soft, worried expression seemed on the verge of change, and Lee realized he'd better do as she said. Grudgingly, as though at any second he'd be vindicated, he stepped out of the hole and like a shamed hound, followed her back into the house.
At dinner, Lee had described what he'd heard for his dad.
"Son,” Ted said, wiping his mouth with his napkin. “This whole area is shot through with caves and seeps. All of Broaddus marsh is a big sink hole. Sound does funny stuff when it passes underground. There's a place in Kentucky they call the Singing Caves. Some of the caverns produce perfect notes that sound like singing when the wind is blowing somewhere up above."
"But dad, this wasn't singing,” Lee replied. “Someone was hurt."
Lee caught the look that passed from his dad to Maggie and back again.
"Lee, I don't think you should be out working in the sun so much, son. You're not so young you can't have a heat stroke."
"But dad, it sounded like a little girl.” Lee tried taking the rational approach. “Maybe one of those girls got lost and fell into a cave. You said yourself that the sound can carry."
Ted scooted his chair back and stood up, loosening the belt of his blue jeans. “Great dinner, honey.” He patted Maggie on the shoulder. “Look Lee, I'll tell you what. If you hear something again, you call Maggie or me. But in the mean time, I think you need to cool it on working out in the sun. If you want to dig on Flapjack's pond do it in the morning or evening. Okay?"
Lee had no recourse but to agree.
In the evenings now they settled down as a family to watch T.V. Ted had staked a claim to the left hand recliner. Maggie had left the right hand recliner open for Lee, as she preferred the sofa, and Patty fit perfectly between the armrests of the love seat.
Tonight had been westerns all evening, except for Dinah Shore, which Maggie wouldn't miss. When the eleven o'clock news came on the top story was still the disappearance of little Evie Riley. They interviewed Sheriff Rayford Thomas, a round man with a Stetson hat and a handlebar moustache, but he didn't have anything new to add. He did recommend, “Parents, y'all keep an eagle eye on yer young uns ‘til this here case get solved."
Lee had watched the clock creep along all evening. The later it got the slower time seemed to pass. Maggie and his dad usually went right to bed right after the weather. Patty was already curled up like a cat on the love seat, having changed into her pajamas after her bath.
Skip Beal, the jolly Channel 2 newsman had a pointer that resembled the thin section of a breakdown pool cue and was tapping at a board covered with cardboard clouds, smiling suns, and numbers. Lee only half paid attention as the man went on about a tropical storm out in the Gulf of Mexico. The only reason Lee picked up on it at all was that Skip said such a storm was rare for this early in the hurricane season.
Like clockwork, as soon as Skip's smiling face dissolved into a Piggly Wiggly commercial, Ted had snapped the recliner shut, and Maggie was jostling Patty. To hurry things along, Lee offered to check the doors and turn off the lights.
Once in his room, he didn't know what to do. He turned the bed down, then thought it looked sloppy, so he made it again, taking care to tuck the pillow tightly. He sat down on the edge, then stood back up smoothing out the creases. He'd cleaned up, even dusted before dinner. Now he scanned around making sure he hadn't left any underwear or comic books on the floor. Next, he opened the chest of drawers and took out a fresh pair of pajamas. Pulling his shirt over his head, Lee stopped in mid motion, remembering that Phoebe had said she'd be wearing a dress. He let his arms back down, thinking he'd look funny in the pajamas. After all he wasn't Hugh Heffner.
He was startled when his dad knocked at the door. “What's going on in there? Aren't you going to bed?"
Lee saw the doorknob twist.
"Why've you got your door locked?” Ted asked, rattling the knob back and forth.
Lee hurriedly pulled his shirt off and threw it on the bed. In two steps he was at the door and had it opened.
His dad was wearing only his briefs.
Ted looked into the room. “What's going on?"
"Nothin’ dad. I'm just changing into my pajamas,” Lee pointed to the open drawer.
Ted scratched his stomach absently. “Why've you got the door closed? The attic fan doesn't do any good if you've got the door closed."
"I kind of like it closed, dad,” Lee thought quickly. “With all the stuff that's been going on I keep my blinds closed too."
Ted leaned against the wall, but continued scratching higher and higher up his sides. “I can't believe you're telling me Lee Coombs is afraid of the dark."
Lee swallowed, not able to think of anything to say.
"I guess it's up to you if you don't mind sweltering in here.” Ted looked up. “You ought to at least turn on the ceiling fan."
"Okay, dad,” Lee said eagerly. “Goodnight, dad."
His dad yawned and turned out of the doorway, and Lee could hear his bare feet slapping down the hardwood floor.
"Oh dad,” Lee called out. “I think I'm going to stay up and read some."
Lee hard his dad's reply from down the hall. “Just don't stay up too late, son."
Quickly, Lee closed and locked the door, then pulled the ceiling fan's chain twice to set it at medium speed. He pulled out the chair at the roll top desk and eased into it, but it creaked anyway. He picked up the Batman comic he'd already read a few times then looked at the clock. It was a quarter to midnight, and he didn't feel the least bit sleepy at all.
At 1:00 a.m. Lee was finally starting to feel tired. He'd finished the comic just after midnight and had spent the rest of the time configuring the Popsicle sticks into just about every geometric pattern imaginable. Still no Phoebe.
It hit him that she might not come if she saw a light on, so he pulled the center chain on the ceiling fan turning off the overhead light. It really was warm in the room with the door closed and only the fan to circulate the air. Deciding that it would be better to be comfortable than swelter, he stripped down to his underwear. The next time he checked the clock it read 1:45 a.m. and st
ill she hadn't showed up.
Hazarding a peek, he knelt by the desk and pulled apart the slats. The half moon had risen up behind the house, bathing the night in a tinge of silver. Long shadows strayed out from behind the darkened shafts of the trees, spreading across the black ground and transforming a daylight world of color to an eerie nocturnal black and white.
It was cool outside in the dark. A low, sultry background rhythm, the throb of the cicadas rose and fell as lazily as the soft swells on a far away sea. The sweet air was soothed and perfumed, tinged with a hint of Magnolia blossoms, flavoring the night like the sloe in a glass of gin.
Movement attracted his eye. He pulled back away from the screen, at first thinking, up close, the fine wire mesh must have affected his vision. Looking back, the unexplainable effect remained. It seemed the trunks of the trees close enough to be seen in the gloom were vibrating and seething, covered by something shivering like fine coating of hair. He didn't have a clue what it could be, and was suddenly washed over with the remembrance of his two episodes out on Seminole Road in the dark. And in recalling this he found a flush of anxiety in thinking about Phoebe coming to his room in the dark.
Could it have gotten her? Flooded his mind.
Lee let the slat go, dismissing what he was feeling as paranoia. Phoebe really only had to cross the street, and surely if something came up at her she'd at least be able to make it to their door or at least call out. And he'd heard nothing.
Returning to the reality of his darkened room, Lee got up off his knees and turned the covers back on his bed. Directly under the wash of the fan's spinning blades it was cool enough to breathe without sweating. He looked up at the clock, 2:05. Still, he hadn't given up hope. It wouldn't hurt to just lie down and get comfortable, he told himself.
The next thing Lee saw was the sun shining in, bleeding through the slats in flat rays illuminating every floating particle of dust wafting through the air. He looked at the clock, which read 9:45. Leaning up and letting his feet fall to the floor, he slumped over his elbow on his knees, his hands rubbing his eyes.
No one was home; the house was still. On the kitchen table was a note which read: “Gone shopping, will pick up your dad and be home this afternoon. Don't make a mess!"
After a bowl of cereal, Lee wandered outside onto the porch, dejected and disappointed. The thought of what Phoebe had promised had thrilled and scared him. Now in the morning he was left feeling like a kid with a forgotten birthday. Dragging his eyes up off the porch there was no way to miss that the Caddy wasn't in the Riley's drive.
With a purpose, Lee walked straight down the steps, down his drive and across Seminole Road. Before he was even in the front yard, Lee could hear the babies screaming from deep inside the house. One's crimson wail dying while the other's cracking scream rose; they sang a duet, which delivered on its promise to make the listener as miserable as the singers.
Lee opened the screen and banged on the door. Nothing.
The crying continued, ragged and painful. Lee banged harder. He looked over to his left, but the driveway was empty. All that remained of the Caddy was an ugly, black oil stain.
He tried the knob, and it turned. One thing he'd known since he was little was you don't ever go into anyone's house without permission, so he pushed the door open a crease and looked in. The place stunk, and the air was still and hot.
He pushed the door open just a little more. “Anyone home?"
Still nothing but the crying, which was much louder now that the door was ajar.
"Hey, the babies are crying,” Lee called out.
Feeling like he was breaking a taboo, the same as walking into a Ladies room, he opened the door all the way.
Darlene Riley was splayed out in the recliner, one arm hanging down, a limp hand on the floor. She had her back to the door, and her head had fallen over on her shoulder. The T.V. was nothing but swirling snow. Its crackling static hiss, now that he was inside was barely audible over the screaming infants.
Lee stepped in. “Mrs. Riley?"
When she didn't move, he took another step. “Mrs. Riley, you okay?"
He stepped on a piece of donut that squished flat under his shoe and stuck. “Mrs. Riley, the babies are crying."
Lee was scared, almost sure she was dead. He gingerly reached out touching Darlene's shoulder.
She twitched, scaring him so badly he jerked his hand back the same as if he'd been burned.
Darlene's head came up off her shoulder. At the same time, the hand lifted from the floor, going up, but then fell back, the fingers slapping down on the floor.
"Mrs. Riley!” Lee had to shout. “The babies! Where is everybody?"
She jerked again and coughed, her whole body convulsing. Slowly her head swiveled left, then right, to look back at him over her shoulder.
Her face was gray, her lips tinged with blue. She had tiny chunks of vomit sticking to her chin, and the vestiges of her mascara had washed down her cheeks painting her face like a dreadful clown.
She looked at Lee a moment, then scooted forward. A bottle Lee hadn't seen before that must have been in her lap, fell down hitting the floor and rolled along on its own.
"What the hell are you doin’ in my house?” she slurred, each word sticking to her tongue.
Lee was horrified by how she looked, but relieved she was alive. “The babies?"
Darlene coughed again and wiped her chin with the back of her hand, then took a moment to look at the residue on her skin. “I know who you are, goddamnit. You're comin’ ‘round here after Phoebe, ain't you?"
Lee tried again. “The babies are crying."
Darlene sat further up, bracing herself with one hand on the armrest of the chair. “Shut up, godamnit!” she screamed toward the back of the house. “Just shut the fuck up!"
Lee didn't know what to do. He moved back a step toward the door.
"Just you hold on there,” Darlene said, wobbling as she gathered her feet. “You ain't told me yet what yer doin’ sneakin’ ‘round in my house?"
Lee put a hand in back to make sure the door was still open. “I came to see how Phoebe—I mean, how ya'll were doing."
Darlene didn't get to her feet on the first try, falling back weakly. But then, with a decided push she managed to stand. “So you just walk right the fuck in like you own the joint?"
When she faced him, Lee could see her shirt was unbuttoned, exposing her wrinkled bra and the vomit which had dribbled down her chest. “No ma'am. I didn't mean to. But I could hear the babies from out in the street."
Darlene waved an arm at the back of the house. “They'll get tired of squallin’ and shut up.” She screamed again, “Shut up!"
Lee took another step back. “Well I guess if everything's okay?"
Darlene brought her hand up to the center of her bra where he could see the outlines of her breast bones going up her chest and flicked at a big crusty piece.
"Who the hell says everything's O.K? Boyd's dead, that goddamned lazy whore of a niece done run off home, and I'm here all alone with my sweet Evie dead in some ditch out yonder."
Lee acted as if he hadn't heard any of the rest. “Phoebe's gone home?"
Darlene's eyes, which had looked like those of a spoiled fish in the meat market, brightened. “I knew it.” She slapped her knee. “I knew it. Y'all been fuckin'? Ain't ya?"
Lee shook his head.
"Yeah, right? Don't think you can lie to me. I know what y'all been doing. Don't think I don't.” She paused and glared back at Lee. “Well I got big news for you. She's done gone!” Darlene coughed and cackling as though she'd just gotten the punch line of a tremendous joke. “To hell and gone. No more—” She made a circle with the thumb and forefinger of one hand and put the index finger of the other in the middle and pumped it in and out.
Lee had never seen a display like what he was witnessing.
"That goddamned, no good, lazy shit eater Reece went and called his brother last night.” Darlene dropped the graphic dis
play with her fingers. “And he said for Reece to fetch Phoebe on home."
Darlene held her breath and swayed for a moment, building up steam. “They all fuckin’ left me here!” she screamed. “Me with a dead husband and a dead baby girl, and those two goddamned screamin’ monsters.” She waved at the hall again, and this time she actually shrieked. “I told y'all to Shut Up!"
Lee hadn't thought it possible, but the babies were crying even louder now, surely stirred up by hearing the shouts from their mother.
Darlene pointed squinting at Lee. “I got me a gun.” She took an unsteady step. “Now you, you better take your hard dick and skeedaddle the fuck outta my house ‘fore I shoot it off for ya. Ya hear me, boy?"
That was all Lee needed. He turned and put a palm on the screen, pushing it wide, and not even closing the door behind him. Once out in the street he scraped the sticky piece of donut off the bottom of his shoe and then went to the garage, got on his bike and went for a ride. He had a lot to think about.
CHAPTER EIGHT: PORTER
It was early Sunday morning. Over the past few days Spit Creek had gone down enough to allow Lee to cross. He had to be careful, as it was a slippery mess. Picking his way down, keeping his feet sideways so as not to slip and fall, he noticed all the tall grass had been flattened left by the flow of the current. The abandoned washing machine he'd regularly seen in the weeds wasn't there any longer, and all the strips of tattered garbage trapped in the weeds looked fresh and new instead of dry and dusty.
He came up onto Arbuckle Ave. dragging his shoes along the weeds to the side to break off the clumps of mud stuck to the heels and sides. Back on the other side of the creek, to his left was Javier's house. The Chevy was parked outside, but no one was up yet. The chickens ran about freely, cackling, while the piglet, which had grown considerably, rooted around at the end of its rope.
On Lee's left hip was the army surplus canteen his dad had given him, and in his right hand was a vintage World War Two bayonet that had come from the same store. He wore his oldest pair of blue jeans, knowing full well that shorts would be cooler, but wouldn't protect his legs from brambles, bugs, and poison ivy.
Evil Heights, Book IV: In the Pit Page 12