Something Down There
Page 25
Jeremy was happy to note that the boy was speaking again, thanks no doubt to Karen’s help, but he looked away from Jon’s vibrating vocal cords so that his revulsion wouldn’t register to the poor child.
“Sorry, I’ve come to speak to Karen. She is here, isn’t she?”
“Uh-huh,” he replied. “Want me to bring you to her?”
“Okay,” he said, although he could easily find the way himself. Holding Jon’s hand, he allowed the boy to take the lead. Jeremy’s breath quickened as his determination ebbed, and he felt glad for the small hand clasping his.
With the help of lanterns in a semicircle and a trace of sunlight from beyond, Jeremy made out two forms, sitting close together: Karen’s and Randy’s.
When he got within a few feet, he noted Karen’s face had lost its girlish prettiness. In its place was an older less innocent version: a little worn, a little frazzled, reminding him of his mother, who became overwhelmed at her husband’s premature death and took her life soon after, leaving him an orphan in the care of his aunt. Suddenly afraid, Jeremy shuddered. Choking back guilty tears, he went to his wife. He further noted her face had lost all traces of its healthy glow, and again felt the weight of responsible.
Karen’s eyes widened and the book she was holding slipped to the ground. Reflexively, Jeremy bent to pick it up, but noticing his fingers coated with a white, gooey substance, he stopped and held them to his face, befuddlement written in the lines on his brow.
Karen answered his unspoken question, gulping back her own queasy response. “You held Jon’s hand,” she explained. “His skin, particularly his fingers, has tiny glands that secrete a sticky substance. It’s not his fault.”
“I just told myself the same thing moments ago,” he said. He wiped the guck on his pants legs and once again bent down to retrieve the book. Passing it to her, he felt the pulse on her wrist, fluttering rapidly like a baby bird.
“Your eyes are well enough for books again?” he asked.
“Y-yes,” she stuttered. “Since we started coming here, they’ve gotten better. Randy’s are better too.” She gestured to the boy who watched in silence.
Having enough rambling chitchat, Jeremy said, “Listen, Karen. I’d like to get right to the point. You know why I’ve come, don’t you?”
“I’m not sure. What do you want?”
“Ask the boys to leave, and I’ll tell you.”
Karen turned to Randy. “Here’s my watch. Take your brother and be back in fifteen minutes.” Jon had already begun to protest, but when Karen explained he could study the watch, he relented.
Having rehearsed his speech earlier, Jeremy forged ahead. “This morning when I was out on the lake, I recalled something you said. I kept repeating it over and over in my mind.
“It was on the day I almost stra-strangled you” he said, kneading his hands. “You said that no matter what happens to remember who the enemy is. I’m sorry, Karen, but I forgot. And even worse, for a while I thought it was you.”
Karen, confusion written in her eyes, asked Jeremy to repeat himself.
“I’m sorry, Karen.”
“Don’t apologize,” she begged. “It’s all my fault.”
“No. No,” he countered. “It’s mine.”
“But look what I did. Look what I did.” She crossed her arms around her belly as if trying to hide the evidence.
“I think I understand now. You blamed me for bringing you here. And the worst part is I knew better. How could I let absolute strangers lead us away from the main section? Dumb,” he said, shaking his head, “and worse, selfish too. I just had to have my way. My way! It’s always been like that, hasn’t it?”
Jeremy winced at the silence. “Jesus,” he said. “It must have been easy for Rahm to take advantage of you—you were suffering so much, and Rahm’s great at twisting things to his advantage. If I hadn’t been so crazy myself, I’d have seen it coming.”
“Oh, Jeremy!” she wailed, covering her tear-streaked face with her hands.
He pulled her to him. “Shh,” he said, stroking her hair. “It’s all right. Everything’s gonna be all right. Please, stop crying. It’s all right. It’s all right.”
#
Jeremy wrinkled his nose. “Squash again?” he said.
“Some of us like it,” said David, giving Janet a double thumbs-up. “In fact, you’ve outdone yourself.”
“Thank you, David,” said Janet, “but the credit goes to Helene. She added the spices.”
Jeremy forced himself to take a few bites before pushing back his plate. Ever since he could remember, he hated squash. Whether baked, boiled, broiled, or fried, it remained the same: tasteless and slimy and they’d been eating it for five days in a row. Whatever Janet or Helene had done tonight, the results bore no improvement; still a sloppy mess.
About to leave with Karen, Jeremy noticed Mary’s penetrating stare, signaling to him from across the table. Although it had been over a month since he had left her to move back with Karen, he could still read her face with its I-need-to-talk-to-you message. Reluctantly, he helped himself to more of the swill to delay leaving the table. “Why don’t you start back without me,” he said to Karen. “I’ll be along soon.”
“You sure you don’t mind? I am very tired.”
“Go ahead. I’m feeling quite hungry all of a sudden.”
Jeremy played with the squash on his plate, taking only tiny bites when necessary. Lily and Rachel were in the fertility area and the men left to do their duty. Rahm was the last to leave after suggesting a hand of bridge later in the evening.
“Not my thing,” said Jeremy. Mary shook her head no.
Mary waited a few minutes to be certain no one was returning or spying. Standing between two stalagmites, she peaked into the kitchen, checking on Janet who was scraping leftovers from the plates. Next the busy mother handed her younger son a pail, sending him off to gather berries for tomorrow’s breakfast. This being Jon’s first official duty, he scampered away, his face flashing like party sparklers. Janet turned back to finish the cleanup. Reassured, Mary lowered her head to Jeremy’s ear. “Meet me back at our place,” she whispered. “It’s important.”
Jeremy counted to sixty, then forced out a thank you to Janet so she’d know he was leaving. With measured steps, he set off, troubled yet hoping for good news. He ran a finger along a now familiar outcropping and purposely flicked off a chunk laden with popped-corn growths. He laughed at his debauchery. But moments later, he noted his shoes growing damp and wiped his eyes as he imagined summer showers in the real world, not this fake devil domain he was forced to inhabit.
Above, life continued as before: people drove to work, children went to school, the sun shined or it poured cats and dogs. But here there was no change of seasons. Nights held no moon or Milky Way, and his only companions were a combination of screwballs and fanatics.
With Carl’s death, now a painful fact, and victory looking bleak, Jeremy had once again viewed his own demise as a welcome friend. But remembering his pledge to Karen and his mother’s words to never give up, he banished the idea from his mind. Too bad Mom couldn’t follow her own advice, he mused, picturing them together on his eleventh birthday, mere weeks before she died.
He found Mary sitting on what had been their bed. All other items, books, knickknacks, shelves, bedside tables were gone. But why did she leave the bed, now a bare mattress? What was the point?
Not knowing what to expect, he approached her cautiously. She had been so angry, lashing out like a typhoon, when he had moved back with Karen. He had tried to explain his obligations, his feelings of guilt, but she wouldn’t listen, claiming she wanted no excuses as she flung his few possessions past the flimsy sheet which had served as their door.
Over the following month, he repeatedly tried to resume a friendship, but she wanted no part of it. He only hoped she would live up to her word and contact him at some point, and here he stood, hands held flat at his sides, fingers crossed for luck.
Her posture remained stiff. “It wasn’t necessary.”
“Of course it was. I want—need you to understand.”
“For whose sake, Jeremy. Yours or mine?”
“For both our sakes. Please, just listen.” In response to her foot tapping the ground, he hurried on. “I thought I hated her. I really thought I wanted nothing to do with her. And why?” Without thinking, he rammed both fists against the wall. If it hurt, he gave no indication, although a line of blood appeared across his knuckles. He paid it no mind.
“Think of it from my perspective. Just try! If it wasn’t for me, Karen wouldn’t be in this mess. Don’t you see? I can’t let her go through this alone. Even if the baby isn’t mine, she needs me. I owe her that much.”
Mary held back a response, but his eyes misted over, begging for another minute. “I really loved you, Mary. That was real and always will be. But you know as well as I—you said it yourself—we have other commitments. Wrong time, wrong place as they say. Just tell me all’s forgiven. Please, Mary, don’t be mad. I’m hanging on by threads. I can’t take any more.”
He checked his sore fingers, licked off the blood, and wiggled them. Satisfied all was still working, he shielded them behind his body, ashamed.
Mary went to him, his Mary again, and took his bruised hands, kissing them. “I could never hate you,” she said. “You gave me back my life. I just needed time to adjust.”
“And have you?”
Mary sat down, and lovingly ran her eyes across their mattress. “Yes,” she said, “and furthermore I’ve moved back with Brian. He begged me! It’s amazing how nice he is now. He’s a changed person, but then so am I; still, I made sure he knows I left this mattress here. It’s my insurance policy. I’ll never let him take me for granted again.”
“Good for you,” said Jeremy, lowering himself besides her.
“But I didn’t ask you here to thrash out personal business,” she said. “Frankly, I’m surprised you’re not jumping out of your skin by now.”
Jeremy squinted, held his hands up and out as if he were carrying a tureen. “What are you talking about?”
“Our dinner. Didn’t you notice something strange?”
“Yeah,” he said. “We had squash again and it’s worse than I remembered.” He watched her watching him through eyes round with bewilderment.
“That’s not the point,” she said. “Those were vegetables we were eating and they were fresh. Remember there’s no grocery store for miles outside.”
“Yeah, so. I know they go up from time to time to shop.”
“But not daily, Jeremy. Use your brain. You went to college.”
He bit his lip, thinking, then slapped the side of his head. “Of course. Fresh zucchini! It needs sunlight for photosynthesis. That means there’s a vegetable garden near an opening. It can’t be outside Dinky Cave’s main one. Didn’t you say Rahm destroyed the passageway? It can’t be beyond the guano pit either.”
“And so …?”
“And so … Hmm, I’ll bet the third opening is near that house, that so-called safe-house I’ve heard rumors about. But that also means it’s close enough to get to daily. Oh my God! A third opening means a third exit!” He jumped up, began pacing in tight circles, his mind switching from one option to another before discarding them all. He turned back to Mary; she had never let him down.
Mary squirmed. “I hope I’m not sending you on a wild goose chase, Jeremy, but I need to clear myself of a sin.” She looked into his eyes. “The sin of omission. You see, when Brian and I first moved here, we came in a different way from you and Karen. There was a small house in the woods and even though it was isolated, it had a high fence so you couldn’t see the hole in the backyard. Norman owned the place. Said it was a gift from his father. Actually, it was little more than a cabin. Not quite a shack, but small, with no central heating. He said he was going to sell the place and use the money for supplies, but there must have been a change of plans ’cause sometimes he goes up and stays overnight. And I’ve also heard talk of a car.”
Jeremy felt a fire in his gut, the tips of his ears burned. “So that’s the safe-house. Why didn’t you tell me all this before?”
Mary dropped her eyes, embarrassed. “First, I didn’t think it mattered. Second, I didn’t put two and two together until now. Also there’s no way I could find the route after all this time, but I do remember first climbing down a series of ladders then crossing some very tricky passageways before coming out near the lake. Anyway, I think I know who can help you.”
Jeremy dropped to his knees in front of her, grabbing her shoulders. “Dear Lord, Mary. Who?”
“Randy! Have you been keeping track of his movements like I suggested?”
He dropped his arms. “Not really. There were more important matters to deal with. At least that’s what I thought.”
Mary smiled. “That’s okay. I’ve been watching. Late this afternoon, I saw him walk into the kitchen with a backpack. It must have had zucchini in it. Freshly picked. I know it wasn’t Rahm that picked them because he’s been helping Norman and Brian this week. They’re digging new trenches for the toilets.”
“Then I’ll follow him at a distance,” said Jeremy, “and find the route.”
“No!” said Mary. “Not you. Karen.”
Jeremy tipped his head. “Karen? Why, Karen? She’s having trouble moving, and I know my way around as well as she does.”
“I’ve been watched her too.” said Mary. “She moves just fine despite her belly. But the reason is she can echolocate.”
“What! She never told me that.”
Mary smirked. “Can’t say I’m surprised. But don’t you see? Karen can stay farther back so there’s less chance she’ll be noticed.”
“Okay. I see your point. Then this is it. Maybe that lucky break I’ve been hoping for.” He lay down on the mattress, exhausted.
Mary swallowed. “Jeremy,” she said, her voice low and husky. “Don’t rush this opportunity. It may be your last one. But there’s something else. Well, two things actually. Hey are you listening? I wanted to tell you how Tom died. It might be useful.”
“Tom?”
“Yes, Tom. You know—Randy’s father.”
“Oh, yeah. I thought he fell.”
“He did, but there’s more to the story than that.” Mary paused, took a breath to reconsider the sequence of her agenda. “Maybe I should go to the other matter first. It’s more important. We can get to Tom later.”
Jeremy started as Mary sprawled across the mattress beside him, laying her hand on his chest. “I know you’re back with Karen,” she said, fidgeting like a bashful teenager, “but—well, I’m still not pregnant. If we could just try one more time, I’d be forever grateful.”
Jeremy’s eyebrows rose, came together, almost forming one continuous line. “Mary, my Mary,” he said, repeating her name like the chorus in a love song. He brushed her hair, her cheek, and lightly touched her full lips, so different from his wife’s thin ones. “You know there isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for you, and I—I’ve missed you so.” He hesitated for a moment, but that’s all it took, and after running his eyes over her lush form, he shook his head and grinned. “Oh, what the hell!”
Chapter 21
Karen leaned forward to place a kiss on Jeremy’s taut lips. Something felt off. She knew it down to her bones. Since their reconciliation, his affection toward her seemed spurious, and his moods fluctuated like an elevator jumping between floors. One moment he said he loved her and the next, barely said a word.
Karen suspected he had been with Mary the previous evening. While she tried to convince herself their affair was over—that he and Mary were just friends—she found her trust being tested. But that issue faded to less than nothing when he announced they’d soon att
empt another escape, and that it would be her responsibility to shadow Randy, who knew the route out.
“Why me?” she asked.
“Because Mary said you can echolocate. That’s why. Why didn’t you tell me?”
Karen ran her fingers through her straggly hair. “I was afraid you’d feel my willingness to learn had been a sign of capitulation. It wasn’t and that’s the truth, but I wish I’d been more forthcoming.”
“Yes, it would help if you were honest.”
“Speaking about honesty—exactly what happened last night? I know where you were. Don’t deny it.”
Jeremy shrugged. “Mary and I—we just talked.”
Karen raised her eyebrows. “Just talked?”
“That’s right! And, since you mentioned Mary, you owe her a debt of gratitude. If she didn’t tell me you could echolocate, I’d never know, and we’d be screwed.”
Touché on that, she thought, knowing that her sixth sense increased their chance for success; still the one thing that frightened her more than anything else was failure. Suddenly cold, she pulled the blanket tighter. “I’m afraid,” she uttered.
“Of course you’re afraid. I’m afraid too. Still this is our best shot so don’t mess it up. But right now I gotta meet Norman at the lake to patch up the boat. I don’t want to be late and have him become suspicious. We’ll talk more tonight.”
Karen remained behind, confused and disheartened. Feeling the weight of their life-or-death circumstance, she hunched over like an old woman. “Someone help me,” she sighed.
The baby stirred, both deflecting and demanding her attention. She reached down to touch it with a mother’s gentle caress. Do you have dark hair like Jeremy’s or mousy-brown like mine? Then a looming cloud crossed her mind, forcing another question, one she preferred to ignore: or blond hair like Rahm’s? Her shoulders sagged and her chest folded inward, causing the baby to press against her diaphragm. Redressing the discomfort, she stretched her torso, palms flat on the ground, and took a deep breath to accommodate its position. Whoever the father, she decided, no longer mattered, knowing that the bond between her and her child would never be stronger, having only a slip of a membrane between them.