by Nancy Widrew
Upon hearing the music of the cascading water, he mumbled, “Almost there.” Since the light from the flashlight’s beam only formed a small yellow circle, he came to the falls with a start. In the shallow pool was a child—a naked female child. What in heavens is she doing here alone? he wondered. Maybe she needs help.
“Hello,” he said, approaching cautiously, not wanting to scare her. To Carl’s surprise a man’s voice rose above the din and returned the greeting. Carl flinched and asked, “Is that your child?”
“That’s no child,” said the stranger.
Carl adjusted the direction of the beam and the man’s features lit up like a blazing Halloween jack-o’-lantern. There was something familiar about him. Carl pressed two fingers from his left hand against his cheek, thinking. “Haven’t I seen you before? I know—the last time I was here.”
The man nodded. “Rachel and I come about once a week to pick up the trash, look for valuables.”
Carl snapped his fingers. “Yep. That’s what you said. And your name … it’s unusual. Let me think. It’s Rahm, right? But you were with a woman.”
By now Rachel was out of the water, still undressed and fully exposed. Carl could see her teacup breasts and pubic hair. She was definitely no child, just waiflike. Carl turned away, swallowed.
“Hey Rachel, put some clothes on. You’re making this guy uncomfortable.”
“Be right there,” she said.
Carl heard shuffling, followed by cracking joints, and material rubbing against skin. Then moments later Rachel joined the two men, shirt and pants properly in place.
“I’m sure you’ve seen a naked woman before,” she tittered.
Carl felt his face getting warm and almost apologized. He shrugged it off and stuck to his goal. “Do you remember me? I showed you a picture of my missing friends? It was months ago.”
“Oh, yeah, I remember,” said Rachel. “But I still haven’t seen them.”
“Me either,” said Rahm. “If either of us did, you can be sure we would have gone straight to the police.”
“But here’s the thing. I found out they were in this cave. You see someone found Jeremy’s pen. It’s one of a kind. I’m afraid it’s gone, but maybe he left something else behind. Something I could show the authorities so they’d come back and search again.”
Rahm and Rachel exchanged glances.
“It’s funny you should mention pens,” said Rahm. “I just found something earlier today. It looks like the cap of a Bic.” He pulled a piece of blue plastic from his pocket.
“Holy cow! Jeremy always carried Bics too. Where did you find it?”
“Close by. In the offshoot that leads to the dead end. I didn’t do a thorough check. Maybe there’s more of his stuff. I’ll take you there if you like.”
“Yes, please,” said Carl. “By the way, where’s your light? This place is blacker than a thousand nights.”
Rahm nodded, opened his palm, and a flashlight seemed to sprout from the air.
“Wait a minute,” said Carl, tipping his head forward. “That’s not a flashlight. What is it?”
“I call them magic mushrooms. They grow in the cave. Their light works as good as anything artificial. Amazing isn’t it? Wish I had more time to explain, but Rachel and I, we have to leave soon … doctor’s appointment.”
“Oh sure,” said Carl. “Sorry. Just lead the way. And thanks for your help.”
Rahm tipped his head. “My pleasure.”
Carl followed the couple down the passageway.
“Here is it,” said Rahm, signaling a halt. “The offshoot I told you about. It’s a tight fit, but you’re nice and slim.”
Carl slipped through the opening, mimicking Rahm’s sideways shuffle. “Sure is dark,” he said. “I think I need to put in fresh batteries. I can barely see.”
“We’ll be there in a sec,” said Rahm. “Then we’ll stop.” He pointed his glowing fingertips toward an insignificant area along the base of the wall. “It’s over there. The spot where I found the cap.”
Carl sprang forth like a jackrabbit and leaned over for a closer look. Seeing nothing, he turned his head, his peripheral vision catching Rahm, swinging his right arm before placing him in a chokehold. Carl’s eyes bulged, his blood pressure soared as his mind flashed the climactic answer he’d been searching for, only it came too late—way too late.
Rahm increased the pressure. With his last moments of clarity, Carl felt himself lifted off the ground as Rahm, using his left arm as leverage, pushed inward, placing him in a vise. Helpless, Carl’s legs jerked aimlessly, a pitiful squeak escaped from his mouth, and a small sound—the crack of a larynx—indicated it was over.
#
Rahm wiped his hands. “That’s that,” he said, with an easygoing, all-in-a-day’s-work smile spreading across his face.
Rachel, in turn, scowled and kicked the body.
“Be respectful,” Rahm admonished.
“Just checking to be sure he’s dead.”
“He’s dead, all right.”
She nodded. “You ready to go?”
“Almost. Just a couple more things.” Rahm pursed his lips, thinking. “I’m tired of search parties, busy-bodies, and local riffraff that come in all the time. And now others are bound to check up on our friend here.”
“You got an idea?”
“Yes, but we’ll have to work fast.” He looked overhead, saw a crack, no bigger than a scar, and clicked his voice. The crack deepened and a smidgeon of dust appeared.
Rachel’s eyes widened. “I get it, but what about the body? Do we leave it here?”
“No. You know how I feel about that: everyone’s entitled to a proper burial. Let’s move it out of the way and I’ll come back for it later. Looping his arms around what had been Carl, Rahm walked backwards, pulling, while Rachel held the ankles aloft.
The twosome continued down the fake dead-end passageway, stopping at a safe distance. After propping the body against the wall, Rahm walked back, found the precise pitch to stir up the molecules in the air. Raising his voice to a jackhammer 105 decibels, he sent out a series of clicks. Soon the small crack widened to a gaping wound and then a chasm, as dirt fell, slowly, quickly. Then boom!
The earth-shattering rumble pierced Rahm and Rachel’s ears. Tons of soil and stone—enough to suffocate, crush a skull, break every bone in a body—tumbled down, sealing the entrance to the dead end. But by that time, the twosome was past the danger mark and well on their way home.
#
Jeremy, taking a break, sat in the dining room, snacking on berries. The color and texture had changed to a velvety purple blue, making them exceptionally sweet and reminding him of the cotton candy from his youth. He was about to help himself to a second bowl when he heard an unidentifiable thud close by. It held such force that it sounded like a bullet or a small explosion. Maybe it is a bullet, he thought, one from a rescuer’s gun. His mind flashed to the rescuers he had imagined, dreamed of months back. Please God, let it be! Blood pumping, eyes blazing, he ran in the direction of the noise.
On the ground lay a man; a dead man, who had obviously fallen from above. Jeremy walked over, caution in every step. There was blood seeping from the poor man’s mouth, nose, eyes—so much blood that it seemed to flow out of every pore. His arms and legs lay willy-nilly, broken in multiple places, and his head twisted sideways, pooling in a sea of crimson.
Yet there was something familiar about this man. Jeremy leaned over and pulled a wallet from a back pocket, scanning the enclosed ID.
“No!” he screamed, his voice so loud and piercing that it echoed through the chambers, clear to Suburbia. He looked up to see Rahm, a boldfaced, defiant Rahm, leaning against a wall as if he were its load-bearing beam.
This was it, the final straw, and Jeremy raised his fists and positioned his body forward to attack, despite knowing it was pointless. But nothing mattered. His life was over.
At the last moment, Mary and Karen’s arms locked around each of
his elbows, holding him back.
“Don’t do it,” said Mary.
“Please,” sobbed Karen. “Not Carl, not Carl.”
Jeremy struggled to free himself, but Mary, much stronger than she looked, climbed onto Jeremy’s back like a parasitic growth. He tried knocking her off, but her weight brought him to his knees.
As Norman and David dragged the body out of the area, Jeremy heard Brian say, “Rachel’s driving the car to our safe-house. She said we can use it for spare parts. The police will assume it was stolen, and for once they’ll be right. He walked off with a laugh while Lily covered the remaining gore with old newspapers before blotting it with her feet.
Rahm was the last to stay behind, checking minutiae like a seller in a slave market. Before he walked off, Jeremy saw his highly arched eyebrows, twin teepees, framed in an uncompromising face: the face of The King of the Underworld, a son of satanic royalty, a man with no soul.
#
Mary held Jeremy in her arms until his quivering body and piercing moans subsided. She rocked him like a baby, sang lullabies, and cradled his head.
After a while his haphazard words took on meaning. “Poor Carl. Poor, poor Carl. He sacrificed his life for me; I can’t let it be in vain. I won’t! But none of this makes sense. Where are the search parties, the newspaper articles, and what about my car? Didn’t somebody see something? Anything? Am I all but forgotten, except by a few friends?” Minutes went by with more wailing, more protestations, until finally Jeremy uttered a definitive plaint: “I won’t be Rahm’s sacrificial lamb. I won’t! I won’t! I’d rather die.”
“I understand,” said Mary. “And I’m here for you.” She kissed his nose, his cheeks, his chin, knowing that the death of Jeremy’s friend cinched a second escape attempt. Furthermore, since she loved him, she’d have to do everything in her power to help. His life depended on it. A lump swelled in her throat. How would she live without him?
#
Keith had almost finished skimming section one of The Pittsburgh Press when he heard the ding-dong of the bell. Bounding down the stairs, he yelled, “I’m coming. Who is it?”
It’s me,” said Zits, avoiding the use of his unfortunate nickname.
“Hi,” said Keith, welcoming Zits and his current girlfriend. He gave a cursory greeting to his own spur-of-the-moment date for the night, a nobody he barely knew, then closed the door.
“I brought the grass,” said Zits, holding up a small plastic bag with dried looking leaves. “Grade A Mary Jane. My brother guarantees it.”
“Well, let’s go upstairs. I don’t expect my parents for a while yet, but no point in pushing our luck.”
“Don’t worry,” said Zits. “They’re getting drunk same as my folks. I saw them when we picked up Gloria”—he gestured to the new girl. “Her parents are hosting the pool party at their house.”
“Actually, it’s my mother and stepfather’s house, and not a pool party but a house-warming party. But Zits is right about not worrying. There’s so much booze, everyone’s probably plastered by now. Oh, by the way, my mother said for all my friends to come over tomorrow and use the pool. It’s still supposed to be hotter than hell.”
“Great,” said Keith, looking at her with more interest. If not for her Groucho Marx nose she might actually be cute.
After heading upstairs, Zits sat down at Keith’s desk, turning on the green banker’s lamp, and took out some rolling paper. He placed a small amount of marijuana in the middle, spreading it out carefully.
“Stop,” said Keith, ripping off a page from section two of the newspaper, not caring if it would anger his parents. “My mom has been checking my room lately. I gotta be careful.” He centered the “Best Deals in Town” ad below Zits’s busy fingers, missing the story on the reverse side about a young couple probably lost in a West Virginian cave months before.
Zits continued rolling, licked the sticky strip, and pinched both ends. “Voila!” he said, handing it to Keith. “I have enough for one more cig.”
As Keith passed it to big-nose Gloria, he popped a cassette into his desktop player. His head began bobbing to the soundtrack of Saturday Night Fever as his eyes turned glassy. The room began to spin and peace and harmony reigned, along with Kumbaya.
“Where’s the bathroom?” asked Gloria, the first to break the spell.
“Down the hall, to your right.
She flipped on the overhead light and paused to study a picture of Keith with his parents, posing before cherry blossoms in Washington, D.C. “I wish my parents would take me there.”
“Trust me, it’s boring.”
“Still, I’d like to go.” Minutes later, she returned from the bathroom. “Hey,” she said, “Anyone else hungry?”
“Yeah, weed makes me hungry too,” said Keith, “but hold on a sec. Just a couple more things to do.” He balled up the sheet of newspaper from the desk, along with its dusting of unusable marijuana stems. Placing the heap into a metal wastebasket, he struck a match, dropping it into the trash, and opened the window to clear the air. As the paper went up in flames, it wiped out the small picture of Karen and Jeremy, turning them to black soot and white ash, remnants of lives lost.
“So you guys want some ice cream?” asked Keith. “We’ve got three cartons in the freezer.”
“I do,” said Zits, “but not just yet. First me and my lady here have other business to attend to.” He jumped onto Keith’s bed, pulling his girlfriend with him.
Keith looked at Gloria, his face turning crimson but his eyes wide with hope. “You’re beautiful,” he lied, praying she’d believe him.
“Really? You’re kind of cute yourself. Hey, you got a condom?”
Keith mouth dropped as if he couldn’t believe his ears. “Sure do,” he said, trying to keep his voice steady. “Two, in fact. Extra large.” Damn, he thought. This must be my lucky day.
Chapter 19
Joan lay in her hospital bed, staring at her flat abdomen. Tears streaked her cheeks. “Just when you think things can’t get worse, they do.” She spoke to Jeff, sitting across from her in a blue, plastic chair.
“I’m so sorry,” he said. “I wish there was more I could do.”
She trembled. “First Carl. Now the baby. Both dead. I blame myself.”
“Please don’t. There’s no way you could have predicted a cave-in.”
“But if I wasn’t in Florida, I would have gone with him.”
“He wouldn’t have let you,” said Jeff, almost adding, because you were pregnant then. Fortunately, he stopped himself in time. “Anyway, I’m glad you didn’t go. You both would have died.”
“No I’m certain that wouldn’t have happened. I don’t know how I know, but I do. Oh, Jeff, nothing makes sense anymore.” She paused to blow her nose, wipe her cheeks. “And you know what else? They may never get his body out of that damn cave. No one is allowed inside. The authorities say it’s too unstable to bring in heavy equipment so it may take years to get to him, and by then there’ll be nothing left but dust. The only good thing” —she looked directly into Jeff’s eyes—“is I lost the baby.”
Jeff opened his mouth, horrified.
“It’s true. You see, Carl was so looking forward to its birth. Now he’ll never know what happened. And you know what else? It wasn’t the fallout from Carl’s death that caused me to miscarry. The doctor said there were mutations. ‘Incompatible with life’ were his words.” Her lips twitched. “I think I’m cursed. I think we all are. Everyone at the newspaper.”
Jeff cocked his head. “Funny, I had the same thought. In fact, I might close it down. I’m generally not a superstitious guy, but all these things going on, they don’t add up. But I don’t want to burden you with my problems. Not right now.”
“Actually, it helps to talk,” said Joan. “With Carl gone, I don’t have anyone left, friends that is.”
“I’m your friend, Joan. I mean it. You can call me anytime, day or night. And everyone at the newspaper sends their love. Even Wend
y asked about you.”
Joan’s eyes narrowed. “Who’s Wendy? Oh, of course, Phil’s wife. How are they doing?”
“So-so. Phil’s been in physical therapy for weeks, but they just added occupational therapy too. Apparently the damage to his brain is more serious than they thought. Wendy said it’s going to be ‘wait and see.’”
A nurse poked her head in the room. “The doctor will be here to see you in an hour, Mrs. Johnston.”
“Okay,” said Joan.
“Do you know when you’re being discharged?”
“Today or tomorrow.”
“You have a ride home? I heard about your car.”
She shook her head sideways, her face crumpling as if it’d been crushed by a train. “Don’t worry. I’ll just call a cab.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I’ll pick you up. And you shouldn’t be alone when you get out. I’ll ask one of the women from the newsroom to stay with you. If they can’t, you’re welcome to stay with me. My house is huge.”
“No. I’ll take you up on the ride, but I want to be by myself. I need to deal with this on my own terms.”
“Whatever you want.” He stood up and kissed the top of her head. “Remember, whatever you want. Whatever you need … you just have to ask.”
Joan, averse to letting anyone see her lose control, waited for Jeff’s footsteps to trail off down the corridor. Feeling certain he’d reached the elevator, she surrendered to the unspeakable grief that had been so unfairly thrust upon her. As her upper body pitched forward, she covered her face with her hands, her mind reeling and her mouth dissolving into a sea of silent screams. Why? Why? Why?
#
Karen could tell it was late spring. While there were no signs of croaking frogs, longer daylight hours, or Baltimore orioles with their orange and black plumage, she could tell by the size of her abdomen. She guessed she was approximately five months along, which would make it mid-to-late May.
With quivering fingertips, she ran her hands along her recently bulging middle, grateful that the members had reacted with reserve to the announcement of her pregnancy months before; not one person had congratulated her, not then not later. Perhaps they were rattled by Mary’s anger or felt embarrassed by the peculiarity of her situation, especially after her fight with Jeremy and his subsequent abandonment. And then to top it off was Carl’s horrific death. That, too, remained verboten.