Something Down There

by Nancy Widrew

  “I’m not hungry.”

  “But you must be,” she insisted. “You haven’t eaten since yesterday morning. See. It’s only more granola.”

  “I said I’m not hungry!” His voice rose to a yell.

  “Okay, but at least feed your wife. You want her to get better, don’t you? Come. I’ll help.” Being much stronger than she appeared, Lily raised the top half of Karen’s body, propping it with pillows. She dipped a spoon into the cereal bowl and brought it to Karen’s mouth which remained closed. When prodding with the spoon proved useless, she pinched Karen’s nostrils.

  Alarmed, Jeremy swatted her hand. “What are you trying to do? Kill her?”

  “Of course not. I’m just getting her to open her mouth. Look.”

  Instinctively, Karen sucked in a deep breath of air along with the cereal. She began to cough and spit out all she had just taken in. Lily waited for the spasm to stop and tried again. This time it worked without any dire consequences, and Karen ate what was offered. When she finished, Lily wiped away the remaining dregs from Karen’s face and shirt.

  “I’m going now. There’s an important meeting I need to attend, but Mary will be back later to check on you both. She’s a nurse, you know.”

  “I know,” said Jeremy.

  “I’ll be back too, if you like.”

  Jeremy remained silent, but his fingers twitched as he imagined Lily, her pummeled arms turning black and blue, blood dripping from her nose as she begged for his mercy. He could actually see her falling—bruised and traumatized—a frail, slender heap not worthy of compassion. Afraid he might actually do damage, he placed his hands under his thighs and pressed down. Hurting Lily won’t help Karen, he berated himself.

  As her footsteps trailed off down the passageway, he rose to his feet, continuing his contemplation. Lily turned back to stare. Narrowing his eyes, Jeremy could just make out her face, outlined by the overhead torch, and could see himself as she saw him: a half-crazed, pitiable creature. And poor helpless Karen: lying like a piece of dead wood, unable to give or receive comfort. “Damn them all. Scum of the earth.” Weeping softly, he had never felt so helpless.

  #

  “I don’t approve,” said Mary, muscles stiff, shoulders squared as if she were a prosecutor in a courtroom.

  Flicking her long hair from her eyes, Helene interrupted. “Exactly what is it you don’t like?”

  “We’ve no right to keep them here against their will.”

  “You have a point,” said Helene, “and I’m not arguing about that. But that’s not what I asked. I want to know what you don’t like.”

  “I already told you.”

  “Don’t expect me to swallow that bleeding-heart bullshit. We all know why you’re pissed-off. You’re jealous. You want to be the next to have a baby. Now you’re afraid it won’t be you.”

  Mary tried to keep herself in check, but her taut lips and bulging owl eyes betrayed her fury. “That’s a lie!” she blurted out. “How dare you speak to me this way?”

  “Why not? It’s the truth. You’re close to forty, and it’s time you accept what your chances are.” Sucking in her bottom lip to hide a complacent smile, Helene added, “Practically zero.”

  “I’m thirty-seven. I still have years left,” said Mary, “and you, with all your smutty ways, have never conceived. Not even once. At least I did, even though I miscarried.”

  Helene snickered. “You were probably just late.”

  Rahm rose to his feet. “This has gone far enough. We’re a family here, and it doesn’t help if we turn on each other. Karen and Jeremy are now part of our family. Who cares which of you has a baby first or who’s the father? All that counts is that we stay together and grow. Now isn’t that right?” With a hard stare from his blue-gray eyes, he engulfed them, turned them to compliant disciples, until a semblance of peace was restored.

  Once again Helene flicked her hair, an obvious affectation. She smiled with her lips, but her demeanor remained cold. “Of course, right,” she said.

  Mary continued to sulk.

  “I suggest,” said Rahm, “that we get back to work, but”—he raised his eyebrows—“with the complication of caring for the recent arrivals, I think it best if we stick with last week’s schedule. Are there any objections?” When there were none, he said, “Good. Then let’s get going. Oh except you, Mary. Can I have a word?”

  Mary thumped her fist over her heart, ordering it to slow down. Rahm, in acceptance of her unpredictable whims and passive-aggressive behavior, pretended to be oblivious.

  “I already asked Lily to take over your duties this week,” he said. “I hope that’s okay. I’d like you to concentrate on Karen and Jeremy. I hear there are problems. Of course, that was to be expected, but this will give you a chance to brush up on your nursing skills.”

  He walked off, leaving Mary staring in his direction. He didn’t even wait for an answer, she reflected. Just assumed I’d do his bidding. After cursing in silence, she took a deep breath, and felt the familiar pangs of self-pity well up inside. She puffed out her abundant chest and transferred her face into its characteristic hard facade, being astute enough to know that she shouldn’t let anyone see her unguarded. Even she agreed that the real Mary lacked looks and charm, as her husband so eagerly pointed out. Oh, the bum never said as much; in fact, he never said much at all—not to her, anyway—but his repugnant conduct made it clear as day, each time a woman entered the fertility area. During those periods, he remained on call, first in line, prepared to do his duty. It was so blatant that everyone joked about it. Staunchly, Mary bore the embarrassment, just as she bore every disappointment of which there were many. But payback time would come. She felt sure of that, and, best of all, it would come soon.

  #

  Carl put the receiver to his ear, the tangled cord wrapping around his arm. He placed his finger in the rotary phone’s wheel, listening to the swoosh of the dial as it moved clockwise before returning with a click-click-click to finish its connection. His coworkers crowded around, all holding their breath.

  On the other end a sonorous voice answered. “Police station. Sergeant Perozzi speaking.”

  Carl, unable to believe this was happening, spoke softly, almost imperceptibly. “I want to report a missing person. I mean persons. There were two.”

  “Talk louder,” said the officer. “I can barely hear you.”

  “I want to report two missing persons.”

  “How long have they been missing?”

  “Since Saturday night.”

  “Well, that’s just a day and a half. Are they adults?”

  “Yes.”

  The sergeant closed his eyes. “In most cases these so-called missing persons show up. Took a spur-of-the-moment trip. Had a family emergency.”

  “You don’t understand,” said Carl. “I haven’t actually spoken to them since Friday. What’s more Jeremy didn’t come to work today. He’d never do that without calling. Also I went to their apartment yesterday and their cat’s bowl was nearly empty, their backpacks gone, climbing ropes too. I think they went into a cave. By themselves.”

  “What makes you think they did that?” asked the officer.

  Carl explained the situation and Sergeant Perozzi’s manner abruptly changed. He picked up a pen, ready to take notes.

  “Perhaps you’d better give me more information, after all.”

  #

  As she’d been doing all week, Mary cleared her throat to announce her presence. “How’s my patient today?” she said to Jeremy with a nod toward Karen. While she was concerned about both of them, her primary focus remained Karen, still barely conscious. “Any change?” she asked.

  Jeremy didn’t speak, merely shook his head no.

  Mary sighed. “And you. Are you remembering to drink water like I’ve instructed? You don’t want to hurt your kidneys now, do you?”

  Jeremy bristled, shot daggers from his eyes.

  Mary placed the tray of food on a side table, hand
ing Jeremy a plate which he promptly set aside. “Well, at least you could try it, after all the trouble I went to.” In truth, she hadn’t gone to much trouble at all. From the cupboard, she took a can of beans and slopped some onto the flatbread that Janet had made earlier that morning and rolled it up Mexican style.

  The brown liquid oozed out, resembling fecal waste and Jeremy felt a wave of disgust.

  “I brought some powdered milk too,” she said, pointing to the white, lumpy mix. “You’ll get used to it in no time.”

  Sitting cross legged on the ground, Mary began spoon feeding Karen. Jeremy watched as a soupy goop ran from his wife’s mouth.

  “I want you to know,” said Mary, looking at him from over her shoulder, “I’m on your side. It’s true I initially agreed to this madness, but Rahm set the agenda and I was browbeaten; besides, I never imagined he would actually follow through. Anyway, at my insistence we voted again, and this time we used secret ballots. Unfortunately, you just missed the mark.”

  Jeremy’s eyebrows shot up. “What do you mean?”

  Mary squirmed at the hip, trying to get her thunder thighs into a modicum of comfort. “I gather,” she said, “that no one’s explained the rules to you yet. We are a democracy, you know. It takes six votes to pass a law. There are nine adults, remember? Actually, six of us did vote in your favor, me included, but Rahm vetoed it. It takes seven votes to override his veto, and I’m afraid we couldn’t persuade one more person to switch sides. Since we used secret ballots, I don’t know who voted which way, but I can make an educated guess. But don’t worry. I’ll make sure the issue is taken up again, and besides, there are other ways.”

  Jeremy, realizing he had an unexpected ally, grabbed hold of Mary’s shoulder, his eyes tearing up like a man told that thingamajig on his body wasn’t malignant after all. “What ways?” he asked. “Can you lead us out yourself?”

  “No. I don’t think so. It’s been years since I’ve ventured far from here. By the time I found the way, someone would suspect we were missing. And besides, no one can know I’m helping you. You won’t tell anyone, will you?”

  “Hell no! Of course not!”

  “Good. Then just be patient. Sooner or later something will turn up.”

  “I hope it’s sooner.”

  Mary sat up straighter, shoulders high, elbows at right angles. “So do I,” she said. “So do I.”

  #

  The employees of the The Baltimore Beehive met in the conference room where a frustrated Carl slammed his hand on the table, catching his pinkie on a sharp edge. One of the account executives pushed over a napkin. Carl wiped up the speck of blood. “I don’t understand,” he repeated over and over, his voice louder each time. “The police said there was no sign of them in the cave we had originally planned on going to. They even checked a number of other caves in the surrounding area using professional spelunkers. And there’s no report of a missing car either. People just don’t vanish off the face of the Earth.”

  Jeff, publisher of “The Hive” as staffers dubbed it, was equally perplexed but had other things on his mind. Despite being a trust-fund baby, with money handed down from generations of investment bankers, he took his obligations seriously. He had started the weekly after finishing college and with his natural business acumen, along with a dose of good luck, the paper was finally turning a profit.

  Jeff removed his tie, rubbed his neck, grateful to have it off. He had plans on expanding the paper’s distribution and made an effort to dress appropriately when meeting with big-shot community leaders as he had done earlier that morning. Now he forced himself to concentrate on the present heated conversation.

  A woman from classifieds spoke up. “The police said a waitress from some dumpy diner recognized their picture. Apparently, she was the last person to see them. So, at least, we know they got that far. Any chance they could have driven out of West Virginia?”

  “Why? They had no reason to do that,” said Carl.

  Jeff made doodles with his pen. “You know Jeremy a lot better than I do, Carl. Tell me. Did he ever mention being a member of a fringe political group—you know, one of those crazy societies, right, left, or otherwise?”

  “No. Of course not.”

  “What about a hippy commune or a religious cult? You know, like the Hare Krishnas.”

  “No. Absolutely not!”

  “Then I just don’t know.”

  “I’ll tell you what I think,” said Carl, pointing a finger at no one in particular. “I smell a skunk and it stinks.” Struck by his own guilt in this imbroglio, he crossed his arms, placing his fists under opposite armpits and pressed down hard, afraid a finger would sneak out and snake dance toward him.

  “You may be right,” agreed Jeff, glancing at his watch. “Nevertheless, we have to get back to work. You and the rest of the crew can’t keep filling in for him. It isn’t fair. Look at you, Carl. You’ve got rings under your eyes. I’ll have to find a replacement—temporary, that is—until this whole mess is resolved.” Tweaking his words to find the right touch, he added, “You do understand. Don’t you?”

  Carl took a breath and let it out slowly. “I understand. You have no choice.”

  “In that case, how about Phil? He’s new, but you like him, don’t you?”

  Carl raised one shoulder in a halfhearted shrug. “I guess so.” To himself, he thought, I’m sorry, Jer … but we really don’t have any choice. I, we—God forgive us—have to move on.

  Chapter 9

  Jeremy took on the care of his wife, boosted by the prospect that Mary would somehow deliver them from this hellish dungeon. Hell was precisely how he thought of it, and on those occasions when fear got the upper hand and he could see no way out, he drew up plans to kill himself. Yes, he could do it: jumping from a ledge, hanging from a rope, plunging a knife into his neck—somehow those thoughts also lifted his spirits since he’d welcome death over the loss of his freedom. But what about Karen? Should he kill her too? That question remained unanswered.

  Lily and Mary alternated bringing them food and liquids. They were the only people, besides Karen, that Jeremy had seen since he was brought to this area. Not sure how much time had gone by, he was afraid to ask, afraid to wonder why there were no signs of any rescuers. Someone must be looking by now. “Must be,” he said to his inert wife.

  Karen continued to stare through unseeing eyes, and sometimes he envied her ability to blot out the horror and disappear into a self-imposed fog. Other times he felt glad to be alert, so that he’d be prepared for the precise moment when their saviors would arrive. That expectation and Karen’s incremental improvements gave him hope. With assistance from Mary, Karen was beginning to walk, although she appeared trancelike and had to be pushed or pulled along.

  To keep his sanity, Jeremy played games with himself, imagining he was a prisoner of war, a war about to end. Any minute now he’d hear a joyful yahoo and a soldier, filthy from battle with eyes huge as cannonballs, would rush in and announce: It’s over. You’re free! Sometimes Jeremy’s side won, sometimes the other. He didn’t care because either way they’d let him go. When that vision played out to a happy ending, his body would relax and he’d grab some sleep, dreaming of home, always home.

  But his present waking dream vanished as Mary strode in followed closely at her heels by Lily, a small shadow in comparison. Mary, now cold and indifferent, said, “It’s been decided that you’ve been coddled long enough. You’ll have to come to the dining room to eat like the rest of us. We’ll help you bring Karen.”

  Her brusqueness seemed to carry a trunk load of broken promises, and he instinctively called out, “Don’t touch her.”

  “Don’t be silly,” said Mary. “I don’t take orders from you.” As she reached for Karen, Jeremy pitched forward, scrambling to stop her, and lost his balance in the effort.

  “Dammit!” he yelled as his arm and Mary’s fell across Karen’s face. Immediately, a welt began to blossom under a half-closed eye. The eye trembled,
and as if some inner battle were taking place, it forced itself to open.

  A hand—Karen’s own—rose up in defense. This was followed by a piercing plaint like the yelp of an injured animal. “Oww!” she cried. “Get off me.” Looking like a bruised, disheveled orphan straight from a Dickens classic, Karen sat up, unsteady but aware.

  Elated at her return from her neither-here-nor-there world, but dreading to fill in the blanks, Jeremy engulfed her with his body, hiding her from their common enemy. He turned his face to the unholy twosome and hissed a no-holds-barred, unequivocal threat. “Leave. Right now. Or else.”

  Wisely, without argument, they backed off.

  Refocusing on Karen, Jeremy could read the fear in her eyes and terror on her parched lips and understood there wasn’t much to explain. She hadn’t blanked out totally after all; merely chose not to communicate as her mind and body fine-tuned, recouped, and adjusted. She knew the score, played its dissonant music, sang its ugly, disquieting lyrics. There were some lapses in memory, but he quickly filled them in. Now they were alone once more, but at least they were alone together.

  #

  Later that evening, Mary returned to her charges, minus Lily. She kept her distance, still wary, not wanting to distress Karen or further antagonize Jeremy. Before either could yell, curse, or lash out physically, she spoke. “This is the last time I’m coming. Tomorrow you’ll join the rest of us. But don’t be alarmed. I haven’t betrayed you. I just had to be careful. Lily may look sweet, but trust me; she’ll tell the others if she suspects anything out of line.”

  The couple stayed silent, but Mary’s sensitive hearing and echolocation picked up movement. While Karen remained sitting, Jeremy stood up, hanging on to every word, straining for clues. “If you don’t join us tomorrow,” she continued, “they’ll let you starve since you won’t be of any use. I know it’s crazy, but you have to pretend, play along—to save yourselves. When the time is right, I’ll let you know.”

  Jeremy finally spoke. Oddly, his sparse words and monotone emphasized his fervid emotions instead of detracting from them. “If you do betray us I’ll kill you.”