Shadows Bend

by David Barbour

  “I have procured all stones within reasonable reach,” said Lovecraft. “Okay, we’re still gonna need more. Reach over to the driver’s door and let’s see how many ya can get.”

  Lovecraft dwelt momentarily on the indignity of having to crawl over Glory’s lap, but as he laid himself across her thighs, with her warm and softly heaving belly pressed against his shoulder, her breasts slightly touching the top of his back, he found himself wanting to pause in that importunate embrace. He could see himself curling into a semicircle and relaxing into that maternal comfort, into a quiet and restful sleep, but at the moment, he had a task to perform for Howard, and he had no choice but to do as he was instructed.

  WHEN THEY HAD finally collected enough stones for Howard to feel safe, Lovecraft slowly crawled out of the car on his belly, getting his already-rumpled clothes covered in dirt and dust. He paused to assess the situation, quickly walking to the other side of the car, stepping back from the cliff’s edge to get perspective. It was less precarious than he had imagined from inside, but still quite dangerous all the same. The look on Howard’s face made him decide to keep the assessment to himself.

  Lovecraft moved to the back of the car and called loudly, “I shall sit on the rear bumper. That should provide adequate counterweight to permit your egress if you are careful.”

  “What about Glory?”

  “Given the fact that she remained unconscious throughout my awkward endeavor to cross her body, I imagine she will remain in that condition for a little while longer.”

  Lovecraft turned his back to the car and found a solid but uncomfortable perch on the rear bumper. He could feel weight shifting inside as Howard made his way over the seat and out of the passenger side as gingerly as possible.

  Howard dusted himself off and immediately opened the trunk to rummage in its black interior. He produced a coil of rope and drew out a length, stepping back for a moment to decide on a place from which to brace himself. “Come on, HP, we gotta do this quick, before she wakes up.”

  Lovecraft, exhausted from all the rock lifting, wanted to rest a while. “Is it not wise for me to maintain my weight here to counterbalance Glory?”

  Howard returned to the car and knelt between Lovecraft’s legs to loop the rope around the middle of the bumper, seemingly oblivious of the awkward pose they were striking. “You stay put till I’m ready,” he mumbled.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “I’m gonna pull here, and when the rope’s nice and tight, you jump down and lend a hand.”

  “I shall apologize in advance for my fatigue.”

  “Never mind and just help, all right?” Howard got up and walked backwards, playing the rope out until he found a good spot to brace himself for leverage. He pulled the slack tight, planted his feet, and motioned to Lovecraft, who skipped down rather daintily for a man of his size.

  While Lovecraft put both hands on the rope and tugged on it, leaning back with his weight, Howard turned his back to the car, braced the rope over his shoulder and, grunting with the effort, pulled as if he were a horse, wincing when he heard the sound of the undercarriage scraping against the rocky ground. Lovecraft was amazed that they were able to move the vehicle at all, and when all four wheels were back on solid ground he called out for Howard to stop before he dragged the car all the way into the middle of the highway.

  Howard coiled the rope as he made his way back to the car. Then he reached over Glory’s still-unconscious form and set the brake. “You wanna wake her up, be my guest,” he said.

  Lovecraft pondered the problem for a minute as he dusted his own clothes, cringing at the thought of how he’d look by the light of day. “Let me think out loud for the two of us,” he said. “If we were to keep her in this unconscious state and drive on, since our mission is an urgent one, we would obtain a certain advantage. And yet, if she were to wake, once again possessed, with some preternatural strength and aggression she were to expend upon us, then we would certainly suffer a setback. At least. Therefore, the conclusion is only logical. We shall wake her now, ascertain her state of mind, and bind her, if necessary, with the very rope you hold in your hands.”

  “Go ahead and wake her then,” said Howard, looking down at the rope.

  Lovecraft leaned over Glory, lifted her head off the seat back with one hand, and lightly slapped her face with the other. He slapped her again, slightly harder, then harder still until her eyes fluttered open and she sat up, disoriented.

  “What? What happened? Why are the two of you staring at me like that?”

  Lovecraft and Howard looked at each other, temporarily at a loss, and then Lovecraft said, “Miss McKenna, I’m afraid you have once again fallen, albeit briefly, under the influence of the sinister forces which are ever more determined to prevent us from reaching our destination.”

  Howard could see from Glory’s glazed expression that she wasn’t fully lucid-at least not enough to understand his friend’s ponderousdiction. “You got possessed again and just about damn near killed us. That’s why we’re staring at ya.”

  “Oh,” Glory said, rather matter-of-factly. “Is that all?”

  A few minutes later, when Glory had regained her composure and Howard had finished inspecting the car’s undercarriage for damage, Lovecraft handed the rope to Howard.

  “HP…”

  “It is the logical thing.”

  Howard looked at Glory, then at the rope, his expression partially hidden in the darkness. His thoughts were so clear he might as well have pantomimed the dilemma.

  “Here,” Glory said, offering her wrists. “I want you to tie me up in the backseat until we get to where we’re going.”

  “See here, Glo…”

  “I don’t want any debate on this. It’s obvious that whatever it is that’s out there has got some kind of hold on me. I don’t want to cause any more problems.”

  “Perhaps an understatement, but she is correct, Bob. It is in our general best interest.”

  Howard said nothing but ushered Glory into the car and began halfheartedly to bind her hands and feet. Glory glared up at him. “It’s not tight enough,” she said in a playful tone. “I could slide right out of this without even wrinkling my pretty little forehead.”

  Howard cinched the knot around her wrist a little tighter. “How’s that?”

  Now Glory was even more sarcastic. “I thought you Texas boys were all experts with your ropes and guns. Haven’t you ever tied anything down, Bobby?”

  He was trying to be nice to her, but Howard could feel his face grow hot with anger. He gave a flick of the wrist that yanked the knot tight around Glory’s wrists. “I ain’t ever roped a steer, if that’s what ya mean,” he said. “But I can tie a knot as good as anyone else. And you ain’t hardly no wild animal.”

  “Oh, I’ve had more than a few gents tell me different,” said Glory. She gave a coy wink that made Howard wonder if she was still possessed.

  “BOB?”

  An hour had passed since they’d resumed their drive. The desert was dark in an oddly crisp sort of way, the stars particularly bright and hardly twinkling. Howard had eased into a semiconscious state of mind, steering the Chevy as if he were a rigged tiller on a sailboat.

  “Bob?” It was Lovecraft again. “Yeah?”

  Lovecraft unfolded the road map, making a horrible crackling and rustling sound that caused Howard to wince. When he turned on his flashlight, Howard squinted at him and waved a hand in annoyance.

  “Bob, I’ve reason to believe we are presently headed in a northerly direction instead of the preferred easterly course upon which we had embarked. ”

  “Huh? How would ya know? I can’t see no landmarks out there.”

  Lovecraft pointed out the windshield at the night sky.

  “Shit-if you’re right.” Howard pulled over onto the shoulder and stopped the car. He stretched and yawned as the sudden stillness made him feel his tiredness all the more. “I mighta taken the wrong turn It back at the junction. Can ya f
igure what road we’re on?”

  The silence and lack of motion roused Glory, and she sat up, letting her loose sweater fall off her shoulders. She rested her bound wrists on the back of the front seat between Howard and Lovecraft. “What’s the matter, boys? Are we lost or something?”

  The three of them regarded the illuminated map together. Lovecraft indicated the compass points, then traced his finger along the road they should have been on. He followed the line back to the last junction and traced their current route. It made no sense. They looked at each other in the dim reflection of the flashlight beam.

  “Times like this, ya rely on Texas instinct,” Howard declared with false confidence, and he abruptly hit the gas, spitting dirt and gravel from the tires as he pulled a V-turn.

  The rhythm of the driving lulled them once again, and soon Glory had fallen back asleep. Howard rubbed his eyes and squinted. “They’re even out here,” he said incredulously.

  “Eh?” Lovecraft shifted in his seat.

  “Those damn Burma Shave ads. Even out here in the middle a nowhere.”

  Lovecraft sat up and watched through the dust of the windshield as they approached the first sign, barely legible in the dim headlights. Involuntarily, they read it together, then the next, and the next, as the rhyme played out with its excruciating slowness.

  Every mile It draws More near.

  Lovecraft was about to close his eyes and get some rest when the next sign caught his attention.

  The eldritch face.

  He could feel the car accelerate as Howard’s foot grew heavier on the gas pedal. They sped by the next sign and the next without speaking.

  The one you fear IA CTHULHU!

  Lovecraft was almost relieved by the last sign. He could have drifted off to sleep then and dismissed it all the next morning as his personal hallucination, but Howard was not cooperative.

  “You seen what I seen, HP?” he said flatly.

  “If you’re referring to the fact that we have just passed an advertisement for the Old Ones, then I believe I have.”

  “Then it ain’t just me.”

  “Clearly not.”

  “What’s goin’ on, do ya think?”

  “I am too tired to conjecture,” said Lovecraft, closing his eyes. “But you may be assured that whether this is real or imagined, it is proof that we are on the right road.”

  “MAKE SURE SHE’S COVERED,” said Howard, easing off on the gas and slowing down to pull into the all-night gas station. “Last thing we want now is someone reportin’ us for kidnappin’.”

  Lovecraft leaned over into the backseat and drew Glory’s sweater up to cover her bound wrists. She seemed to be sleeping peacefully, and that provoked in him a quick pang of envy.

  Howard pulled up at the pump and got out, stretching his arms above his head and arching backward until he heard the satisfying crunch in his lower back. He shook out his shoulders and drew in a deep breath. From the inside of the gas station, lit by a couple of dangling lightbulbs, the attendant roused himself and emerged rather timidly.

  “Fill ’er up,” said Howard. “Don’t need nothin’ else.”

  “Yessir. ”

  Lovecraft got out, just as stiffly as Howard had, and he rubbed at his sore arm as he limped over to the ice box. “Could you divulge to us our present location?” he asked the attendant, but that only drew a blank look.

  “Whereabouts are we?” said Howard.

  “Oh, not too far from Deming. Coupl’a miles.”

  “Thanks,” said Howard. “My friend here’s from England.”

  “More the proximity of New England,” said Lovecraft, fishing for change in his trouser pocket.

  The attendant rubbed his hands across the front of his coveralls and walked over to the pump.

  Howard leaned over the horizontal ice box and said, in a loud whisper, “Dammit, HP, I was tryin’ not to be suspicious.”

  “Well, now, in addition to my superior diction, our fellow here is wondering if he’s seen a foreigner. I’m afraid you’ve made even a larger impression than would have obtained without your clumsy attempt at anonymity.”

  “Can’t you just talk like an American?”

  “I am an American. I hardly need to talk like one.”

  Howard shrugged in defeat and looked over his shoulder. The attendant was washing the windows, pulling his squeegee and leaving a line of grimy water that he mopped up with a rag. He seemed to be concentrating especially hard on the rear window.

  “Hey!” called Howard.

  That startled the man, and he stopped abruptly. “Yessir?”

  “I told ya we didn’t need nothin’ else.”

  “Your-your windows was so dirty, I thought—”

  “Well, you done enough if ya got the front.”

  “Yessir.” The attendant quickly wadded the rag into his back pocket and went back to the side of the car, where he stood nervously over the gas nozzle, nodding to the clicking of the pump.

  “Dammit,” Howard hissed. He said, loudly, “Hey, you think we should wake her up to use the ladies’ room?” He tapped Lovecraft and whispered to him to say no.

  Lovecraft hesitated, and then he realized what was up. “Never mind,” he said loudly. “We can wait until we reach Deming.”

  “All right,” Howard replied. He walked back and paid the nervous attendant.

  When Lovecraft got back in, Howard started the car and quickly pulled out. In the rearview mirror, he could see the attendant walking briskly back to the office, where he quickly closed the door. Howard quickly turned his head to glance at Glory. “God dammit!” he hissed. “You notice if he had a telephone back there, HP?”

  Lovecraft looked into the back and saw that Glory’s sweater had shifted. Her bound hands would have been clearly visible in the light.

  “Can you see what he’s doin’ back there?”

  “I’m afraid we are too far. And the shade is down. But from the presence of the wires leading from the telephone poles toward the station, I would conclude it has a telephone.”

  “Damn, HP! He saw Glory all hog-tied. I told you to cover her up.”

  “I’m afraid she must have moved in her sleep. I’m sorry.”

  “We’d best be on our way, dammit.” Howard hit the gas and sped up to return to Highway 70. “Dammit, dammit. Maybe a half hour, maybe forty-five minutes before the state troopers pull us over and lock us up on a kidnapping charge.”

  “Don’t worry yourself,” said Lovecraft. “We’ll simply untie her and have her tell the officers that the boy was mistaken. Perhaps in his semiconscious state he only imagined her bound.”

  Howard took a gulp of Coke and winced at the sweetness. He spat a mouthful out of the window, then resigned himself to drinking the next one. “Boy, it’s times like this that I really need my Dr Pepper. You better wake her up. Let her know what’s going on.”

  Lovecraft turned and tried to rouse Glory. He tapped her shoulder, then shook her gently, but got no response. “Glory,” he said. “Glory.” But she was so fast asleep that even his next, rougher, shake of her shoulder was unsuccessful.

  “What’s wrong?” said Howard.

  Lovecraft twisted around and shined the flashlight in Glory’s face.

  He reached and lifted an eyelid, and there was still no response. “I believe she’s in some sort of profound sleep.”

  “You think she’s possessed again?”

  “No,” said Lovecraft. “Her eyes have not taken on that reddish hue. At least not at the moment.”

  “Well, we’re gonna have to take a chance and untie her.”

  Lovecraft untied Glory’s feet and hands as quickly as he could manage, and then he bundled the rope into a wad and shoved it under his seat to hide it from view.

  It was some thirty minutes later that Howard saw the flashing red lights of an approaching state trooper in his rearview mirror. He drove as nonchalantly as he could until the other vehicle drew up dangerously close behind them, and then he finall
y relented and pulled over. Lovecraft made one last attempt at rousing Glory, but it was to no avail.

  The trooper’s car maneuvered until its headlights were focused on the Chevy so that when Howard looked at the two approaching silhouettes through the rearview mirror, his eyes were highlighted as if he were some leading man illuminated by a key light. Lovecraft twisted his body around and squinted against the headlights, trying to make out features on the shadows. He was relieved when he could see them dropping their hands down to the obvious lumps of their holsters-that meant they were certainly not the odd men-but then he did a mental double take, realizing that he should perhaps be concerned and not so relieved.

  The two troopers walked cautiously forward, their hands on the butts of their weapons. Howard had an uncomfortable feeling, which he hoped was merely his fear of the current predicament, but deep down, he also , could not help but associate the black silhouettes with the odd men.

  In a moment a flashlight beam lanced through the interior of the Chevy. “Would you boys mind steppin’ out of your car?”

  Howard and Lovecraft grudgingly got out and stood by their open doors. The trooper closer to them came forward and pointed his flashlight through the rear window, illuminating Glory’s unconscious form in the backseat.

  “I see her, Joe.”

  Howard gave Lovecraft a quick glance, hoping he could be seen.

  “Evenin’, Officers. What can we do for you?”

  The trooper addressed as Joe wagged his flashlight. “I’d like to see some ID from the both of you.”

  Howard produced his thick wallet, but Lovecraft paused and looked uncertain. The trooper illuminated them alternately, flicking the beam back and forth until he grew tired of the game. “Both of you-step back to the rear of your car where I can see y’all together.”

  They took a few steps forward. Lovecraft hesitated.

  “What’s holdin’ you up, buddy?”

  “Officer, I’m afraid I carry my documents in a satchel which now happens to be inside the automobile.”

  “You just stay put for now,” said the trooper. He focused his attention on Howard for a moment.