by Nancy Widrew
He slowed down; almost there. Squinting his eyes, he looked through the windshield toward the sky, guessing it was between two and three o’clock. He’d have to hurry.
A minute later, he arrived—an old wooden bridge or more precisely, “Junkyard Bridge.” Yes, it was still there, a relic from the past, broken boards and all. Driving onto the structure, he stopped at mid-point, held his breath, afraid it might collapse. Fortunately, it remained stable, although the creeks from the rotting timbers screamed in protest. He turned the car’s wheel, climbed out, and pushed hard. It went over with one long heave. As he listened to the splash, he bit his bottom lip, relieved that the first part of his mission was complete. All the same his gut churned with acid. What he was doing was necessary, yet it brought him no pleasure. With total self-discipline, however, coming from detailed preparation for this climatic, unprecedented event, he forced all negativity aside.
He crossed grasslands where parched weeds climbed up to his knees and tickled his legs through pants worn nearly bare. He cut through a graveyard without fear of moldering bodies or diabolical spirits. Finally, reaching the highway, he walked up the ramp. No cars coming. If he were lucky he’d get a lift at least part way, but if necessary he’d run the whole distance. He began with a trot, speeding up like the Thoroughbred, perfectly attuned for speed and agility. Feeling the adrenaline flowing through his veins, he felt invincible, an Olympian enjoying the challenge.
#
The two teenagers busily engaged along the bank, adjacent to the bridge, abruptly stopped.
“Did you hear that?”
“It’s nothing,” said the boy, unfastening her bra. “Don’t pay any attention.”
“What was it?” she insisted.
“It’s just a car being junked. That’s the second one this week.”
“What do you mean?”
“Don’t you know? People junk their old cars here. That’s how this place got its name.”
She paused, put a finger to her lips, thinking. “How do you know this is the second one this week?”
“W-well, I was here with G-Gary the other night.”
Immediately, she pulled away, adjusting her clothes. “Don’t you lie to me again, you lousy stinker. You mean Lisa.”
Joey grabbed for her, but she was too quick, and all he got for his effort was a handful of air. “She doesn’t mean anything to me, Jo Ellen. Honest. Come back … please … please … Oh, shit!”
#
He had just cleared the five-mile mark when he felt the vibration of an approaching car. He stuck out his thumb. A few cars had already passed and while he enjoyed the feel of his legs in motion, attuned to the pumping of his heart, he knew he should try hitching a ride. What if he fell and twisted an ankle? Better not take a chance. He slowed down and luckily a pickup pulled over and stopped.
An old man with a younger one half hidden behind the brim of a baseball cap peered out the window. The younger one rolled it down and pointed a shotgun at Rahm’s face.
“Where you go’n’?”
Keeping his face slack, Rahm answered, “To Bloomery. My ma’s sick.”
“Where you from?”
“Fort Run.”
The man nodded, and lowered the firearm. “We can take you as far as Pleasant Dale if you don’t mind ridin’ in the back. No more room up front.”
“I’d sure appreciate it. My ma’s gonna go any time now.” He hopped into the back, pushing aside boxes, wheels, a car battery, rakes, and hoes. He found a blanket, spread it out and lay down. The night was clear with a full moon and stars eager to flaunt their splendor. Even his weak eyes could appreciate the show they were putting on. Again he felt a sense of melancholy well up in his throat for his former home, but he knew it was just the awe of a tourist, and he allowed himself the luxury of a cat nap.
As the truck came to a sharp stop, his body shuddered, awakening him. Parting his lips, he put forth his characteristic cry and felt the vehicle pull up to a solid structure. He knew from the smell it was a restaurant even before he saw the blurry neon sign blinking Good Eats Diner, inviting travelers to come on in, eat, and, most importantly, spend their money.
He jumped off the truck as the two men got out of the cab. The old man smiled, revealing toothless gums and rubbed his day-old stubble. “Join us for coffee?”
“Don’t think so. I’d better be on my way.”
“Sorry we can’t take you further.”
“That’s okay. Thanks for the lift.”
He was making excellent time, better than he hoped for and decided to take it easy and enjoy himself. Walking at a leisurely pace, he took in all the things around him: the smell of decaying leaves and auto exhaust; the feel of the earth beneath his feet; and the choral symphony of birds, welcoming the new day in the trees above. Tipping his head up, he saw a black cloud spreading out, swirling in all directions, and he clicked his tongue in response. As he suspected, it wasn’t a cloud, after all, but a colony of bats, perhaps his bats, enjoying their daily meal of tasty live insects.
This is it, he though. Our moment of reckoning. Confident in that certainty, he arrived at the mouth of the cave with time to spare and sat down to watch the sunrise. While he had enjoyed this glorious spectacle numerous times when he lived above, he now felt an obligation to see it through. “Who knows?” he spoke out loud. “This may be my last time ever.” Despite the help from his sunglasses, he had to watch with his customary sideways glance as the morning sky gave birth to a dazzling display, a heavenly landscape spewing streaks of fire. It reminded him of the walls below where mineral deposits created a spectrum of colors, albeit more subdued. He took a breath and exhaled a thank you for a successfully completed mission, and with an absolute appreciation for his hidden home, he crawled inside to begin the journey down to his secret, infertile oasis.
#
Lightly brushing Rachel’s lips with his own, he murmured, “It’s done. Everything went perfectly.”
In response to that rather chaste kiss, Rachel kissed back with open eyes, all senses on alert, as if she’d been expecting trouble. “What took you so long? I hardly slept. Did you stop to watch that damned sunrise or something?” Not waiting for answers, she added, “Fortunately, they’re still asleep. I just checked.”
Rahm traced a finger across her cheek, and lay down beside her. Yes, he cared about her—loved her in his way—and though it would be nice to prove it, it would ask too much from his overworked body. And, besides, there was still one huge hurdle to overcome. Before changing his mind, he sat back up. The forthcoming day would test his powers as Leader to its limit. There hadn’t been a crisis like this since that bastard, Tom, died. Reaching down to his innermost core, where his passion for life gave him a decided edge, he sucked in a swell of air, expanded his chest, and gathered the strength for the final task. Turning to Rachel, he asked, “You ready?” When she mumbled a yes, he said, “Then let’s begin.”
Like soldiers on a mission, they walked in synch, lighting the torches and the candles left out from the night before. The others in the tribe were still in bed, but from their rustling bodies, Rahm knew they, too, were awake, waiting for his signal.
Rahm looked down at the sleeping figures of Karen and Jeremy, still drained from the preceding day’s physical and emotional toll. He leaned in, close to Karen’s ear, suspecting she would be more startled than her husband, and in an even, reassuring voice said, “Good morning. You fell asleep. Everything’s all right.”
She opened one eye, then the other, and sprang to her feet with a yelp.
The sudden noise and motion awakened Jeremy, and he rushed to her side, certain she’d be in a foul mood. He tried placating her. “It’s true,” he said, kneading his intertwined fingers. His face was flushed, but not from sleep. Sky-high guilt resulted in him keeping up the useless banter. “You looked so exhausted, honey, I didn’t want to wake you. We spent the night here.”
Karen ran her tongue across her lips as anger replaced
confusion. “You didn’t want to wake me? What a crock of shit!” Spit flew from her mouth. “You probably planned this and wanted to spend the night here. Well, I’ve had enough of this cave of horrors. Let’s get our stuff and go.”
As she began gathering their belongings, Rahm reached over, grabbed hold of her body. She tried pulling away, but his grip was firm. “I suggest you eat something first. You’ll need energy for the climb.”
“Rachel,” he yelled, though she was standing nearby. “Get some granola for our guests.” To Karen, he said, “It’s good. We make it ourselves.”
“I don’t give a rat’s ass about your precious granola. We’ll go to a restaurant. I just want to get out.”
Rahm moved his hands to her shoulders, forcing her to face him. “Please. Try to calm down. It’s very early and there’s no restaurants around. Not for miles.”
“He’s right,” said Jeremy, sotto voce as if afraid to speak. “Besides I’m starved, and I could use some coffee.”
With no door to slam, Karen kicked the couch. “Screw your coffee. Can’t we ever get out of this place?”
Jeremy took a step back, afraid she’d hit him. He’d never seen her so angry. “We’ll leave after breakfast. Not a moment later. I promise.”
“Should I tell you what I think of your promises?”
Rachel, with the help of Janet whose hands were shaking from the commotion, brought over two trays. They quickly walked off leaving Karen and Jeremy alone to eat in silence.
I’m sorry,” said Jeremy. “I can’t wait to leave, too. I’ve had enough of this gloomy gray shithole, and I’ve had enough of caves for years, perhaps forever. I want to see the sun again.”
Karen pecked at her granola. It was passable at first, but the powdered milk tasted anemic, leaving a sourness on her tongue, and the aftertaste from the fruit-flavored breakfast drink was chemical. She took a sip of the lukewarm coffee and handed the rest to Jeremy. He thanked her with his words while his eyes begged forgiveness.
As Jeremy drank his second cup, Karen began, once again, to gather their belongings. After a moment, she cocked her head, replacing her scowl with a quizzical look.
“Something wrong?” asked Jeremy.
“My car keys. I can’t find them.” She turned both backpacks upside down, shook them, and then searched through the side pockets.
“We probably left them in the ignition. Don’t worry. I brought an extra set. See?” Reaching into his pants pocket, he drew out a small leather case attached to a silver-colored chain and dangled it before her eyes.
Karen grabbed it from his hand and looked it over as if she needed to make certain it was real. “I know I took the damned keys from the car,” she said. All the same, she felt a moment of relief at having a new set in her possession. That relief, however, ended in a flash.
With a dynamic leap to a ledge above, Rahm crossed his arms on his chest like a dictator about to make a pronouncement. “They won’t do you any good,” he bellowed.
Jeremy swallowed hard, raising a hand to his throat. “W-what do you mean?” he said, reaching out for something to grab onto. Finding nothing, he spread his legs wide, feet flat on the floor, trying to maintain his balance.
Rahm, aware of the significance of this moment and insuring that it remained stamped in everyone’s mind, stood tall, chin out. “While you were sleeping last night, I climbed out and drove your car off a bridge. You will not be allowed to leave.”
Karen’s hands flew to her face. She began to cry and dropped to one knee. Instantly, Jeremy ran to her and encircled her in his arms, pulling her close. Jeremy glared at this insane man, his new enemy, standing above. With hate etched in the dark hollows of his cheeks and in the lines of his furrowed brow, he said, “What do you mean? Why can’t we leave? You won’t get away with this!”
Rahm, a leader of few but a leader nonetheless, addressed his flock, gathering with solemnity about the pair, now unofficial members of the tribe, even if against their will. All eyes riveted up.
“You can’t leave because we need you, that is, your baby—the baby you will have, sooner or later. And yes, we will get away with it. You see, the harnesses are gone, and we dismantled the machinery that lowered you down. You will never be able to find your way out. Don’t even try. It would be suicidal.”
Karen stared at her husband, her jaw dropping in disbelief, as the horror of her predicament bore down with jackhammer force into her brain. Unless she and Jeremy were guided out, they were snared, trapped, condemned, damned. Without the candles, lanterns, or torches they couldn’t see the tips of their fingers, and even with their carbide lamps they wouldn’t know the way through this puzzling maze with its unknown levels and intricate network.
Jeremy’s nails dug into his wife’s shoulders. “Dear God,” he wailed. “We’re doomed, and it’s all my fault. Forgive me, Karen. Please!”
She looked at him blankly, blinked, her breath coming in staccato bursts, piercing her lungs like wounds from a knife. She began to run blindly, crying, “Let me die! Let me die!”
She ran down unfamiliar passageways, reeling haphazardly, until her foot hit an obstruction, tripping her, causing her to tumble to the ground. Lying on the cold, damp earth, she rubbed her throbbing ankle. Instinctively she moved it in circles, relieved it wasn’t broken. When the pain lessened, she rose to her knees. Despite her terror, her fingers sought out the object responsible for her fall. Pulling matches from her pocket, she lit one, then another. From the glow, she was able to make out a wooden marker, protruding from an oval mound. The graveyard, she thought. She began to tremble. Close by, she found the two other markers, and wait—there was a forth, slightly smaller than the others. Putting her nose to the inscription and tracing with a forefinger, she made out the words: “Baby Bruso, female stillborn.” It was inches from the marker reading: “Louise Bruso, 1949—1975. RIP.” Karen put her hands over her ears and screamed and screamed and screamed.
Chapter 8
He stayed back until the pitiful, hopeless cries ceased; even they pierced his calculating heart. He went to her, squeezing her shoulders as she lay on the ground, faceup and deadly quiet. Raising her hand, he deliberately let it go, but it hung in the air with a life of its own. He raised the other, and it, too, hung as if attached to a sleepwalker or a person afflicted with some black-magic curse. Finally, lifting her in his powerful arms, Rahm carried her to her disbelieving husband, a shaken and quivering mass, waiting in his Frankenstein cell, his new underworld home. Jeremy took one look at his wife, seemingly hovering between life and death, and dropped his head with a sob.
#
Upon awakening Sunday morning after a night of coughing fits and mouth breathing, Carl stumbled down the stairs. He found Joan sprawled on the couch, the TV still on and an open magazine on the floor where it had apparently fallen when she’d drifted off. He fixed two cups of instant coffee and went back to the living room and turned off the set. The motion and sudden lack of background noise woke the sleeping beauty, although the line of mucus under her red nose made her look less than ravishing.
“What time is it?” she yawned, wiping her face with a sleeve.
“Quarter past eight.” He pushed her favorite blue ceramic mug across the coffee table along with a box of tissues.
Joan sat up and straightened her glasses, sitting askew across her nose. “Thanks,” she said, taking a sip.
“I called.”
“Called who?” said Joan.
“Karen and Jeremy. I just called their number.”
“Oh, shit,” said Joan, now fully roused. “They’re still not home?”
Carl lowered his eyes and sighed. “No one answered, and I’m not sure what to do.”
“Should we call the police?”
“I thought of that, but maybe it’s too soon. I don’t want to sound the alarm bell for nothing. Maybe we should wait till tomorrow. If Jeremy doesn’t show up at work than something is definitely wrong.”
“What about
their cat?” said Joan.
“Oh yeah, I forget about Boots. They probably left extra food if they were planning on being away, but I’ll go over and get the superintendent to let me in to check.”
“You think he’ll do that?”
“I think so. I’ve met him a few times. He lives in the building. Anyway, he’d better. I don’t want the cat to starve. You know, just in case.”
“You think they went into that cave alone?”
Carl shrugged. “I can’t picture Jeremy doing that. Still you never know.”
“Jesus!” said Joan.
“Yeah, you can say that again.”
#
“Karen, Karen,” he pleaded, cupping her head in his hands. “Please wake up.” When she didn’t respond, Jeremy stared helplessly at his wife, then accusingly at Lily. “She’s been like this since yesterday. This is all your fault. You and the rest of your goddamned, kidnapping friends.”
“She’ll come out of it,” said Lily as she shook Karen’s immobile body, but the oblivious woman stayed lost in an impenetrable fog. “I’ve seen this before. She’s not asleep and she’s not unconscious. She’s catatonic.”
“She’s what?” asked Jeremy, his pupils darkening at the sound of the word.
“Catatonic. I’ve seen it in people with mental illnesses. Sometimes a catastrophe can cause it too—in otherwise healthy people.”
“How do you know so much?” asked Jeremy, his voice a heavy rasp, teeming with hate.
Lily looked away, too shame-faced to meet his eye. “I worked as an aide on a psych ward for a short while. Don’t worry. She’ll be okay. Here, I brought you some food.”