Death by Facebook

by Everett Peacock

  I didn't quite pick up on that for a moment. “Do what baby? It's gonna be a long...” Looking at her while I said that I finally figured it out. “Do it? You mean like get it on?”

  She walked up to me with a saunter that answered my silly question with a thousand yeses. Her hands found my neck and brought my face close to hers for a kiss. I closed my eyes, then felt her move away.

  “Come on baby, get your jacket. We can share my flashlight.”

  I opened my eyes, a little hungry for that kiss. Like a puppy dog chasing a bone I did as she told me, following her out the door.

  We were both dressed for hiking, having just finished a short one over to the closed for renovation Volcano House. She looked up at the stars once clear of the street lights. There were rivers of stars sparkling brightly. The Milky Way looked to be a cloud stuck in the darkness, the only one anywhere close. Our breaths were foggy reminders of how cold it could get in the tropics with a little altitude.

  “Slow down Janet, how far is this crater?” She was almost jogging ahead in the dark, flashlight scanning for the trailhead sign.

  “Two miles. We can be there in forty-five minutes to an hour. I checked it out earlier.” She stopped to wait for me to catch up to where she was leaning against the sign: Hale'ma'uma'u Crater Trail. “The restricted area sign is just a precaution. We can walk right up to the edge. They even have a viewing area there, with railings.”

  I remember those railings for some reason, but followed along in Janet's memory as she continued her daydream. We practically jogged along the trail.

  That's where I must have met those guys with the headlamps on their heads the first time. They were all hiking out as Janet and I were going in. It must have been almost midnight by then. I thought it funny that their headlamps were turned to red, but one of them, I think it was Pat, said it was because the Park Rangers would spot normal flashlights. The comedian, Dave, said it was a $1000 fine to be caught where we were all standing there, talking. They had pointed up to the crater ridge, some 1500 feet higher and a mile away.

  “They sit up there with infrared scanners, looking for people trying to sneak up to the lava pit.” Pat said with a bit of adventure in his voice. If not for that I guessed, they wouldn't be having as much fun.

  “I doubt there's any overtime in their budget for that,” the guy Everett had said.

  “I don't know about that,” John said. “Rescues can be expensive.” He had looked at both Janet and I real hard. “You guys be careful out there. Keep an eye on the wind. If it looks to be shifting, the plume can get you in a moment.”

  “The plume?” I asked.

  “Yeah,” John continued. “The smoke, the steam coming up off the lava. It's caustic. It'll burn your skin and your lungs in seconds. Not to mention it's hot as hell too.”

  The airline guy, Tim, was watching us closely I remember. First Janet, then me, then back to Janet. He seemed to be sizing us up. “Go. Have fun kids!” he said. “I would if I were you,” he smiled.

  I watched them march off, telling jokes too loudly and laughing like people do when they've had a few too many beers. Or maybe laughing like people who have just cheated death. I thought about that for a moment and how similar those two sounds had always seemed to be.

  Janet pulled my arm and got me back on the trail. “Come on!”

  The trail was well worn from many years of tourist boots before the big AREA CLOSED signs had gone up. We practically ran the last half mile, Janet throwing off layers of clothing as we got closer. By the time I got to the concrete viewing pad she was naked and standing right up against the railing, facing me.

  “Right here baby! Come get me!” Janet's beauty was a bit eclipsed by the insanely radical movement of the plume behind her. It was a dancing mix of orange and gray, twisting and falling, then plunging upward with a ferocity that made me shudder.

  Despite my best misgivings I started to strip as well, thinking about the stories I would tell about sex and the volcano.

  At this point my own memory was matching up with Janet's daydream pretty well. But, after shedding the last of my clothes, I seemed to forget how I got from being horny to being dead.

  I do remember walking over to Janet. She had now turned her back to me, holding on to the railing and shaking her booty like some of those dancers I had seen in Germany. The roar of the volcano was the only thing that could keep me from hearing my own lust boil inside.

  “Come on Jimmy,” she called out loudly, above the din. “Take me like an animal, by a volcano, in the restricted area!”

  It was coming back to me now. I do remember coming up close to her. The plume was only yards away, a vertical waterfall of poison rushing up to the sky in some perverse denial of gravity.

  She was wiggling her butt left and right and I was trying to grab her hips. Just as I caught her firmly in both hands and thrust my hips forward to meet her, she surprised me, that much I remembered.

  Janet was remembering as well. She was still on the couch of Cabin #94, and she was crying now, her hands up to her face. I stayed focused, though, focused on her thoughts and it soon became clear.

  As I had grabbed her hips, she had turned quickly and grabbed my arm. I looked up at her, wondering why she was pulling me so hard to her side? Then I got worried, that I remember. Worried that she was playing too roughly near the edge, that we might both stumble in a place you don't really want to stumble. Her other arm had me now and she was pushing, pushing hard with all her strength, pushing me against the railing.

  I was totally shocked - at the fact that the railing she had been so seductively posed on had given way so easily, like it was rusted away. In a second, even less, I was moving too fast to stop myself going over. I felt myself falling and I looked up at her, afraid we had both been foolish and gone through the railing, but she wasn't looking at me. She was clawing at the edge, holding on against the momentum she had used to push me...

  Push me? I spun once and then I could see her again, this time up on her elbows watching me. Her eyes were big and orange. I was surprised, but more confused. Why would she push me, why would she...

  There wasn't much more I thought about that. Suddenly, I was enveloped in the plume and a moment after that I fell into the hot pudding like surface of the lava and for just a microsecond thought one last thing...this was going to hurt.

  But, it didn't.

  7

  The Jagger Museum, perched perfectly above the immense Kilauea caldera and the Hale'ma'uma'u pit, protected Ranger Jack Clovis and Larry Larson from the rain squall moving in from the east. It was late, well past midnight. The museum was closed.

  “How many did you count coming out, Larry?”

  “Looked like five to me, how many did you see going in?” Larry put down the Class 3 Infrared binoculars.

  “Five, but that was the first group. The second group I think I saw just two.” Ranger Clovis took the binoculars back and looked to the pit again.

  The rain was pelting the steel roof of the museum. It was difficult to talk with the racket.

  “Damn rain is hiding my view now, even with your fancy Class 3, Larry.”

  “Yeah, well, it's not made to see through tons of water, Jack.”

  The rain was just reaching the edge of the pit as Jack pushed the button again, sending out a laser signal to bounce off anything that might reflect back a heat signature. Of course, close to the plume everything was ghostly white.

  “I see someone, I think. Near the edge.” He peered carefully, holding the binoculars steady on his arms, themselves resting on the wooden counter. “Yep, one. Leaving the edge and heading...” He put the binoculars down. “Into the rain.”

  “Yeah, we'll never see the second guy now.” Larry groaned. “That doesn't mean he's not there, right?” No one wanted to wake up a bunch of people to do a late night wild goose chase. Both of them knew that the crazy fools that might march up to the mouth of hell itself must assume the risks.

  “Not
unless we get a call.” Jack looked over at his long time friend Larry, and winked. “Unofficial policy these days. Unless someone calls in a missing person, we just let it play. Not enough budget these days to go around chasing crazy people.” Jack looked back now toward the pit, completely obscured by the driving rain. “Now if it was regular hours, we would have a couple of Rangers meet them at the trail head with ticket books.” Jack put his feet up on the counter and leaned back in his ancient office chair. “But, I'm off duty, and you got cold beer, so in my humble opinion...”

  “Let sleeping dogs lie,” they both said at the same time.

  ~~~

  Janet's heart, she was remembering, was beating so hard in her chest she could see it bouncing raindrops right off of her bare skin. She had retreated a few feet from the edge of the pit, but had to fall back to her hands and knees as she vomited, over and over. Naked, afraid and completely in the dark, she felt her body convulsing and sobbing. Looking down at the black cinder, where her long red hair, matted with vomit and tears was reflecting the glow behind her, she heard something coming. Loud, insistent and pounding the ground with an incredible force. Rain. Torrential tropical raindrops the size of hail. Just as she struggled to her feet, the rush of wind being forced out of the way by the downpour hit her full in the face. She almost fell back, and for a moment, terrified she was so close to the pit, she screamed.

  The lava behind her screamed as well with the onslaught of cold water pummeling it. More steam rushed up and out, increasing the roar in her ears. The roar enjoined with her own heart pounding, her horror at having actually thrown me into the lava and her now increasing terror at being alone, naked and cold. Her mind was on edge, flooded with a chemical especially reserved for fear.

  Adrenaline. Nature's organic version of amphetamines. The one chemical that is solely responsible for the survival of the human species. Besides its obvious super power properties it has a far more important quality, memory enhancement. When a human brain is flooded with adrenaline it remembers everything, every nuance, every smell, every single detail, visually. No doubt by design or happy coincidence this allowed early humans to avoid that which had almost killed them the previous time. It also produces euphoria in smaller doses, known as the “runner's high” which encourages endurance and motivates excellence. Some people find it in athletics but many find it in the pursuit of power, in the conquest of what they desire. It has propelled us from the trees to the stars.

  It also imprints upon our psyches that which can never be forgotten. Janet was discovering this as she began the long march toward justification and Cabin #94. I could sense it deep inside her even as she made excuses for what I now know was murder. Her guilt was eating her alive, much like the lava had done to me, just slower.

  She must have been a sight, climbing out of that crater, up through the jungle ferns in a darkness made deeper by torrential rain showers. Perhaps it hid her nakedness well. It no doubt had washed much of the blood from her lacerated hands. Her flashlight, still by the door, was stained with it even now.

  The sadness that moved me now was catastrophic. The woman that I loved, the soul mate I thought I had, the future of my dreams had led me like an animal to slaughter. Her entire idea to visit Hawaii and the volcano was calculated to incinerate every trace of both me and her crime. She had talked me into another enlistment, despite my reluctance, just to get the money to pull it all off.

  I watched her now with a fascination beyond my capacity to control. How could this creature, this horrible creature have done this to me? Why? I had seen murderous men in Afghanistan, seen our own soldiers take some pleasure in shooting bad guys, but nothing as devious as this appeared to be. She had enticed me to the guillotine with the promise of sex no less. There must be a special place in hell for such creativity.

  However much I despised what I now knew, I found empathy toward her, her loneliness and her desperation. It was a flaw of my own soul I suppose, but it was a fact nonetheless. I didn't understand her but I still loved her, some part of her, somewhere.

  Janet had finally stopped crying and climbed up out of the embrace of the couch. Immediately she opened the refrigerator and grabbed two cans of beer, opening them both. She opened her laptop and after a moment her email, still on screen. She found the reply from her friend and began to answer her.

  To: Amy Gingerhouse

  From: Janet Ashbury

  Subject: RE: My Hawaiian Vacation

  Amy, sorry to hear it's so cold in NH. It's actually chilly here as well, but only because we are at something like 4000 feet. I have my fireplace going, do you?

  You are the first one I am telling this to, so please keep it a secret. I haven't told anyone about your Uncle messing with you. That's because you asked me not to, but also because I can understand it now as well.

  Jimmy, my fiancé, my lover, my hope for the future turned out to be even more than that. He is my brother as well. And, he knew it all along! What a creep, I just can't believe it.

  He was adopted, just like me. We all went to different families. I guess our parents were pretty screwed up. Anyhow, we had a connection to each other that we confused for infatuation when it must have been whatever it is siblings have. My God!

  I found out from our other stupid brother on Facebook, Frank. I was reading Jimmy's Wall postings one night. Frank had found Jimmy and posted something on his Wall, instead of a direct message. How many people have made that mistake? Everybody can read Wall posts, duh! Anyhow, Jimmy was telling him about me, posted my picture and such. Frank recognized me and warned Jimmy. Frank was old enough to remember us, Jimmy and I were just little kids.

  Typical Jimmy though, he ignored it, just like everything else he doesn't want to deal with. He simply discounts those things he doesn't want to believe. You would think he was grossed out, but no, not Jimmy. He was in love, for God's sake.

  Well, anyhow, we are NOT together anymore and once I get over the disgust and stop VOMITTING I will give you a call.

  Janet

  8

  I had been watching her write that email. Something inside of me screamed out for a little compassion. She could have just left me, could have had me arrested. Shit! Why throw me in a boiling lake of lava? That was hateful beyond what I might ever understand.

  She had now finished the second beer and was headed back to the refrigerator for more, two more. Pop. Pop. And, she went for my laptop this time, booting it up and opening Facebook.

  It took a few minutes on the slow WiFi connection to bring up the newsfeed, but it finally did and I had something like 36 notifications and 16 messages. Whoa! A record. Being dead sure did a lot for one's popularity.

  Janet took her time reading every one of the comments and all of the messages. Many of them were worried friends expressing either outrage or compassion at “my post” that Janet had made. They varied from pissed off about me declaring my death to philosophical interpretations of what I might have “killed” off. There were a couple of wise ass comments though, like “Good luck” and another from a friend of a friend I didn't really know but had accepted anyhow. He said “Good riddance”. Of course, he was still in the war and probably had no time for false declarations about what he saw multiple times a day.

  Despite being upset with Janet for having killed me, I did find it interesting that people were concerned for me, and I kind of liked the fact that “I” had posted my own death notice on Facebook. That was sorta cool actually.

  When I had been deep in-country, hiding in small holes or caves from snipers in the dark I had wondered what my obituary would say. I had envisioned a newspaper clipping that Mom, my adopted Mom, would have on her desk. But, actually, Facebook was better. Here people were saying good things about me. And, you didn't have to travel to some remote military cemetery to read about it.

  Three days after Janet had pushed me over the edge, some people were still writing comments below “my” original announcement of:

  Jimmy Turner: “I
just wanted to let you all know that I am dead.”

  Comment number 18 or so started a trend away from the anger and surprise. Dozens were following that as well.

  Alice of Atlanta: “Well, if no one else has the courage to say it, I will. Jimmy was a great guy! I will miss him forever. Especially the way he used to look at me when I told stupid jokes, like I was completely out of my mind. I'll miss that the most.”

  Taylor Secontat: “Yo Jimmy. I still don't believe you. How can anyone that had as much fun as you call it quits so soon? I mean, don't you remember the time we almost got arrested in Chicago at the Sears Tower, running sprints up the stairwells for $20?”

  Other comments were pouring in, all telling tales of how much fun they had had with me over the years. I had actually not quite forgotten, but had not thought of many of those adventures in years. Hunting Grizzlies in Alaska, white water rafting the Colorado and camping in tents across the southwestern deserts with that old VW bus. Even taking a stab at rodeo in New Mexico for beer money and having to spend more than we had won on a broken arm.

  I watched Janet read these over and over, sometimes stopping to cry a bit, or grab two more beers. Always two. Pop. Pop. Always planning ahead, that girl.

  After a little while she fell asleep on the table, her red hair flowing over her arms, her face and my laptop.

  A chat window opened, the little beep unable to rouse Janet. It was my Sergeant.

  9

  Funny how being dead has so many advantages. I didn't get tired, or cold, or hungry. I didn't feel a need to drink beers or boast or make rude comments about bad drivers. I think I was actually a nicer person, except that I wasn't really a person anymore.

  Moving outside while Janet slept I looked up at the enticing river of stars in the black sky. I could see, but I wasn't doing it with eyes, I guess. I could hear, but not with any ears I might have. I could sense things in people that could tell me stories about them, their dreams and fears and hopes. It was all pretty cool.