by Nancy Widrew
“No, I guess it’s okay. I’m just not used to”—she sniffed—“tree bark.” She finished her drink and handed the cup back to Rahm.
“Ready? Good. Then let’s begin.” Facing her, he crossed his legs, indicating for her to do likewise. “Before we get down to basics, let your head roll around, then your shoulders. Yes. That’s good. Now close your eyes and let your thoughts drift to peaceful surroundings.”
Karen did as told. Slowly, steadily, seamlessly, her mind cleared of dark shadows, replaced by an endless stretch of pearly, white sand—a 360-degree panorama with living, breathing glints, holding insights of seasoned truths.
While the knowledge pierced her boundaries of reason, she now felt grateful to be among the select, those chosen to experience this once-in-a-lifetime phenomenon, and as she ran her fingers through the granular material she became aware of a missing piece, a vital one.
She had to find it. Nothing else mattered. Digging with her hands, she pushed away all extraneous substance until she hit a chest—a treasure chest of sorts. Brushing away the last of the sand, she opened the lid and heard a whooshing sound like the breaking of a seal.
The chest, while empty, sucked her inside, and she spun through a vortex yet felt no fear, due to a soothing, beelike buzz. The soft drumming rose to a familiar click-click before fading away, and she tumbled out before a wall of frosted glass, holding back a sea of foam.
The peaks rose and fell, became crested waves, striking the barrier with ancient, blue-green currents. She heard the drone of the ocean, felt its spray on her face, and smelled the salt air. She heard the clicking again, this time coming from inside her head but continued to stare as the wall began to vibrate and bulge at its center.
A crack appeared, and it looked as if it might break. She heard a voice—her own—high and shrill. The crack deepened and she had the sensation that she had experienced this all before, a familiar, yet unidentifiable, taste on her tongue. She licked her lips and everything stopped dead, and she grudgingly found herself wrenched back to where she had begun.
He stroked her arm. “You did very well, just as I expected. Tomorrow we’ll try again.”
She looked at him, her brow tight with confusion. “Where am I? That other place—it seemed so real. What happened?”
“You’ll know soon enough. Until tomorrow then.” He brushed her cheek with a single finger, and walked off without another word.
#
Karen avoided mention of echolocation to Jeremy, and pleading a headache, walked to the supply area for aspirin. On the way back, she acknowledged that guilt had struck a chord, and until she reasoned everything out, she’d keep any conflicts to herself.
Unable to sleep, she rode out her inner battle, going over the previous day’s experience, assuring herself, as Rahm suggested, that possessing this skill might prove useful. But the second reason, the real reason, grated like an ill-fitting shoe: she wanted the knowledge for its own sake and therefore accepted the challenge.
The next morning, she rushed to the garden, eager to finish her chores and move on to her lesson; consequently, she was glad to see Rahm, already there, bustling about, ready to begin.
Once again, she spun off to an otherworldly domain, a shimmering palace with stalagmite trees, bearing crystalline fruit. Above her were upside-down glaciers, huge white stalactites breathing answers. She reached up, attempting to touch the largest glacier, a perfect isosceles triangle with a flower of ice on its down-pointed tip. Its height, however, necessitated another means of communion. She began warbling a wind-chime trill and exhaled a breath, warm and misty. The vapor rose in a helix, spraying the ice flower, causing it to melt. Droplets of truth dripped on her face. Her tongue, snakelike, slipped from her mouth to taste the answers, but like the day before, when victory inched a heartbeat away, she was abruptly brought back to her steely, dark surroundings. She hung her head.
“You mustn’t be discouraged,” said Rahm. “It takes time and patience, and you have both.”
Karen raised her head, her voice rebelling against his words. “I want to try again. Right now!”
He laughed at her defiance. “No,” he insisted. “It takes too much energy. You need to recoup.”
“All right,” she said, pouting with resentment, knowing he wouldn’t change his mind. “But the least you could do is answer a question.”
“If I’m able.”
“Tell me,” she said. “Why did you kill Tom?”
“Who told you that?”
“Norman said he fell, but I don’t believe him. I think you pushed him.”
He moved closer, his eyes narrowing into reptilian slits. “I prefer not talking about it.” Karen’s scowl burned hot on his skin, and he reconsidered. “Even if I had killed him—and I’m not saying I did—he deserved to die, but I didn’t murder him. There was a fight. He fell. Too bad!”
“You don’t sound sorry.”
“Should I? What Tom did to Louise and Eugene was atrocious, bashing in their heads in their sleep. He was a coward. And while I have no regret over any of my actions, believe me, nothing comes easy.”
“But why no trial?” she admonished. “He deserved that. Everyone does.”
Rahm scoffed, curled one corner of his mouth. “We weren’t prepared for a trial and have no time for such foolery. Besides, it would only have torn us apart. Tom got more justice than he gave his victims.” He opened his hands and stared down at them. “I never asked to be the group’s leader,” he went on, “but I’m the only one willing to take the responsibility.”
Karen paused, her knuckles digging into the hollow of her cheek. “Has anyone else ever tried?”
“Every year on March twenty-first, we celebrate the vernal equinox. It’s also the anniversary of our arrival, so that’s when we hold elections. I’m the only candidate who’s ever been nominated, and I’ve always been reelected—unanimously. No one else has been willing to run.”
“Then anyone could be a candidate?”
“Anyone who’s a member of our tribe.”
“I see,” she said, weighing his words. “And how does one become a member?”
Rahm paused, pinched the bridge of his nose. “That’s never come up. I suppose by simply stating your wish to join us and pledging allegiance.”
Karen filed away the information, smart enough to not press him further, but after a brief silence, she said, “There is one last question I’ve wanted to ask.”
Rahm tilted his head. “You’re certainly full of questions today. I guess there’s time for one more. Fire away.”
“Why did you come here?”
Rahm’s lips tightened before loosening on an exhalation. “I don’t like to speak about myself, but today I’ll make an exception. For you! But I’m afraid you’ll be disappointed. Like everyone else here, I didn’t fit into so-called normal society.”
“I was hoping for something more specific,” said Karen.
“Okay, I’ve nothing to hide.” His voice dropped a degree as he began. “I grew up in a small town not far from here. While this part of West Virginia is my home, I always felt like an outsider. My parents originally came to this state in the early ’40’s at the request of John Lewis. Ever hear of him?
“No,” said Karen. “Should I have?”
“I suppose not, although in his day he was a big shot, on the front pages of every newspaper. He was president of the United Mine Workers and the Congress of Industrial Organizations. Anyway, my father was a union organizer and a friend of Lewis. Lewis liked him, was grooming him for a leadership role. Then when the captive-mines dispute broke out, Lewis asked my dad to come and stir the miners up further.”
Karen held up a hand. “What do you mean ‘captive-mines’?”
“Those were the mines owned by the steel companies back then. The conflict surrounded opening union shops for the workers. Naturally, it wasn’t in the interest of the owners to allow them to operate. Strikes broke out all across the coal belt in support
of the cause.
“The shit hit the fan in ’41 and unfortunately it rained on my father. He was shot and killed when he went to picket outside the Frick coke plant in Edenborn, Pennsylvania, one month before Pearl Harbor and four months before my birth. My mother never recovered. Years later, I learned she’d been having a difficult pregnancy and now on top of that she had to deal with his loss. Her doctor warned her about traveling back North while she was pregnant. Said she was too weak. Then by the time I was born, she decided to stay.”
“Why?” asked Karen.
“Partly out of revenge, I suspect, and partly because she had started to lose her mind. Lewis was unable to come to the funeral. It was during wartime, and he was involved in intense negotiations. He did send a representative though, but my mother never forgave him. As far as the local folk, well, you could count the number who showed up on one hand. At least, that’s what my mother loved to say, and she said it plenty. I suppose lots of people were suffering then, dying too, so what was one more? And besides, it wasn’t easy to lose a day’s pay.
“So she decided to stay and make everyone feel guilty. Unfortunately, no one did and she became the local crazy lady, the town joke. The union took care of us financially. It wasn’t much, but we scraped by. Out of necessity, I became a loner since it was impossible to bring anyone home. With my mom ranting half the time, I had to rely on myself.
“I couldn’t wait to grow up and leave this state. College was out of the question; I barely finished high school—hated to study. So I bummed around before the draft caught up with me. I joined the Marines. It wasn’t out of political conviction, believe me. It just seemed like the only thing left to do. When they shipped me off to Vietnam in ’65, I didn’t care. I’d run out of places to see and had nothing to look forward to.”
Karen lowered her eyes. “Helene mentioned you were wounded.”
“Did she? Well, it’s true. I was in one of the first combat units to go ashore in Da Nang. We were supposed to guard the Air Force base there and scout out the Viet Cong in the surrounding territory. I was there for less than a month when I was out on patrol with some buddies. Somehow—I’m still not sure—a soldier stepped on a booby trap. One of ours I think! It killed him instantly and seven others. I fell, of course, thrown is more like it—on top of Norman. That’s right,” he said. “Our Norman! That’s how we became friends. I saved his life, or at least that’s what he insists since I pushed him when I fell. But to tell you the truth, it was out of my hands. The blast sent me flying like I’d been hit by an exploding truck. A metal fragment missed his head by inches, another ripped through my left heel.” He pulled off his shoe and sock to show her. A chuck of the bottom of his foot was missing, the surrounding skin calloused and scarred.
Karen grimaced and pulled back instinctively as she looked at the mutilated limb. “Does it hurt?” she asked.
“Not anymore. It did at first. Hell, I don’t know what I’d have done without morphine. I spent a couple months at Walter Reed. Had two surgeries. I have a special insert in my shoe so I can walk without limping.”
“I see,” she said, shielding her face to hide her smug smile.
“Afterwards, I was sent to a VA hospital in Martinsberg, West Virginia. That’s where I met Rachel. She was working as an aide in the physical-therapy department.”
“Really?” said Karen, vainly trying to picture Rachel in a crisp, white uniform.
“When my foot improved, we moved in together. She was only seventeen but already married to a guy who enjoyed beating her up. He tracked her down, and I had the pleasure of busting his nose. To be honest, I did lots more damage than that, and we had no choice but to leave town.”
“Is that why you changed your name?”
Rahm grinned. “I’m aware of the rumor. Abraham is my middle name. Rahm is for short. I like it better than my first name.”
“And what’s that?”
“Gilbert.”
Karen placed a hand over her mouth. “Are you serious?”
“I’m afraid so. My mother couldn’t bear to name me after my father so I was named after a dead uncle. And now I’m counting on you to keep that bit of trivia a secret.” Karen joined him in laughter before they both settled down.
“So what happened next?”
“Rachel and I … we tried to make a go of it in the conventional way. I pumped gas, she worked in a nursing home, but we both weren’t cut out for nine-to-five living. One day, half in jest, I told her about this crazy notion I had to leave everything behind and live in a cave. She took me seriously. I couldn’t believe it. But, apparently, she felt as sick of the world as I did.
“We moved back to this county, and Rachel took a job at one of the local hospitals while I spent my time scouting out caves. Finding this lower section was sheer luck. Who’d have thought Dinky Cave held a secret?”
Karen pressed her lips together. An ugly secret.
“Talk about providence,” said Rahm. “Rachel and I had just gotten a phone when guess who called? Norman! Turns out he now lived here too. Owned a house. I told him my idea and you know what? He didn’t think I was crazy either.
“We both contacted old ‘nam buddies. You’d be surprised how many had trouble adjusting, and over time we also found drifters, dissenters, all sorts of rejects who wanted a fresh start. Sure the numbers whittled down, but that’s good ’cause finally we had our core group of true believers. And over a two-year period we planned, lugged building materials, furniture, other essential stuff until we crossed that final barrier and moved in.”
Karen cracked a finger. “You should have turned this into a book instead of losing your mind.”
“I assure you I’m sane,” said Rahm, dismissing the slur. “Anyway, my spelling stinks. Now, what about you?”
“Not much to tell. I’m just a girl from your typical American family—parents divorced, one brother. I met Jeremy at college.” She looked at Rahm for a protracted moment and came to a wary halt.
Rahm broke the silence. “I said a hell of a lot today, didn’t I? I’m not sure I like it.” He smiled at her, but underneath his droll grin stood a look of savagery which seemed to say: Now that I’ve told you everything, you’re mine. Karen’s forehead burned as if it were branded with his name; panicking, she rubbed the alleged blot, attempting to hide any evidence, real or imagined.
“I’ve got to go now,” he said, chuckling softly at her angst. “I promised Mary and Helene I’d help settle some dispute. Those two are always at it.”
Karen watched him walk away, head held high, a man pleased with his fate. Once again she sat alone with her mushrooms. Heart racing, she leaned over and put her ear way down, touching one on its cap. “Tell me,” she said, turning left and right, checking that no human was present to listen in. Satisfied, she continued. “What’s to become of me?” When she didn’t get an answer, she crumbled, wailing so queerly she sounded like a warped LP that had baked in the sun.
A sudden clamor caused Karen to jerk sideways. Another female, voice loud and sharp, roared into the void, adding to the surrounding tumult. “You’re helpless, helpless, helpless,” the intruder said. “Helpless and alone.”
Karen, recognizing the voice as her own, screamed, rousing her fungal menagerie. Alarmed, they rushed to her defense.
“You’re not helpless,” they said in unison. “And certainly not alone. You have us.”
“Thank you,” she said, extending both arms to take them in, hold them close. “You’re my angels, my blessings, my saviors. “But how will I survive?”
The response came quickly: young ones that had just poked through the dirt that morning, bowed their tiny caps with an offer of sacrifice. Obligingly, she popped them into her mouth, swallowing them whole. Then leaning back, she closed her eyes and sailed off to wonderland, along with her faithful crew of magic mushroom. When she returned to her room later that day, she bubbled with newfound energy, fortified like a well-fed cat.
#
&nb
sp; This time Karen’s fully detailed account of Rahm’s injury electrified Jeremy. “There it is again. His Achilles’ heel! His kiss of death. There must be a way we can use it.” He ran his hand across his mouth, thinking. “Also there’s one other matter to keep in mind.”
“What’s that?” said Karen.
“Tom was able to kill two people while they were sleeping. That’s when everyone’s most vulnerable.”
“You’re not planning on killing anyone, are you?”
“I won’t rule anything out, not even that.”
Jeremy’s pronouncement made Karen chose her words carefully. She held back her suspicions regarding Tom’s so-called accident. Instead she said, “Don’t even think about killing. You’re no murderer. Besides, I have a better idea.” She squared her shoulders, preparing for a fierce objection. “I think we should become members.”
“What!” he barked, shocked.
“Don’t you see?” she countered. “Then we can vote, and not only that, you can challenge Rahm for the leadership.”
Jeremy stared at her with dinner-plate eyes. “Me? That’s insane!”
“Maybe so, but sooner or later something’s bound to pay off and with you in control, you can set new precedent, change opinions. By the way … I forgot to ask … the other morning when Randy came to go fishing—where were you?”
A devious grin spread on his twitching lips. “Exploring. And not only that. I’ve gone more than once. I just lay a trail of string behind me to keep from getting lost. On my way back, I roll it up again. Oh, one other thing.” He paused as if waiting to hear the sound of applause. “You must have noticed that funny green glow from the wild mushrooms. I discovered that if I rub them on my skin, it shines like a flashlight. It only lasts a short time; still, it’s better than nothing.” To demonstrate, he moved his arms from right to left, his fingertips outstretched and pointing like tiny incandescent bulbs.
Karen yelped, thrilled by the news. “Tell me,” she said. “What else did you find? Any promising routes heading up?”
“No, nothing yet, but I’m going to keep trying till I succeed.”