The Quarry

by Mark Allan Gunnells

  It was all over quickly, Steve unloading in her mouth without so much as a warning, causing her to gag and spit up in the bathtub. He’d thanked her, winked, then left her alone, suddenly more sober than she wanted to be. It had only happened that one time, but Sheryl had been carrying the guilt like a bowling ball on her chest ever since. Part of her wanted to come clean with Leslie about the incident, but fear of losing the friendship had kept her quiet.

  Until tonight. When Leslie had told her she was pregnant, it had all come flooding out. Predictably, Leslie had reacted with tears and anger, slapping Sheryl so hard across the face that she still felt the sting. She rubbed idly at her cheek, causing the pain to flare up sharp and hot. She deserved it, and so much worse.

  She knew there was little chance of putting her friendship with her roommate back together, but she had to try. That was why she’d been waiting up, hoping Leslie would come back and let her explain.

  Explain? Was there an explanation for what she’d done? Jealousy, probably. But not jealousy of Leslie; jealousy of Steve. When he’d come into the picture, suddenly Leslie didn’t have quite as much time for Sheryl, they were no longer inseparable, Sheslie breaking back into two distinct individuals. Deep down she’d wanted to ruin Leslie and Steve’s relationship so things could go back to normal.

  Sheryl resisted examining her emotions too closely, but her feelings for Leslie obviously went beyond mere sisterly affection.

  Turning off the light, Sheryl crawled into bed, but kept her eyes turned toward the door. Leslie had stormed out around 11, going to confront Steve. Why had she not yet returned? Perhaps she’d forgiven Steve, or maybe he’d convinced her Sheryl had made the whole thing up, and she was spending the night at his place. The thought made Sheryl feel ill.

  More likely, Leslie just didn’t want to be around her backstabbing roommate and was staying in another room with one of her other friends. She would probably request a room reassignment tomorrow.

  Tears dampening her pillow, Sheryl drifted off to sleep.

  Chapter Six

  EMILIO THOUGHT THAT Dale wasn’t going to make it to Public Speaking again on Thursday, but he wandered into the room about five minutes after class started. Emilio actually did a double take, which he thought was something that only happened in movies; his friend looked like hell. Dale wore sweatpants, flip-flops, and a stained T-shirt; his dark hair was disheveled and his eyes bleary and unfocused; pillow creases tattooed the right side of his face. Apparently he was still sick but had dragged himself to class anyway. Emilio figured he must really want to give his speech.

  Dale sat not in his usual seat next to Emilio but in a vacant desk near the front of class. Emilio tried to get his friend’s attention but to no avail. Behind him, Patty leaned forward and whispered, “Looks like Dale should have stayed in bed for another week.”

  Dr. Nance wasted no time, calling Roger Nesbitt to the podium to deliver his speech. There weren’t many students who hadn’t given their speech, which left a chance for them to get out of class early today, but Dr. Nance stopped Roger twice and reminded him to slow down and enunciate clearly.

  Emilio found it hard to concentrate on anything but his friend. He’d been relieved when he found out that Dale had a cold but was otherwise unharmed by his dive into the Quarry, but seeing him now for the first time since Monday morning, Emilio found his worry returning in spades. If all Dale had was a cold, it must have been some supercharged strain that was a hundred times more virulent than any old Swine Flu.

  Dale was the sixth student in line to give his speech that day. Dr. Nance had to call his name three times before Dale finally turned his head in her direction, grunted, and pushed himself up from his desk and made his way slowly to the podium. He moved like an old man in need of a walker.

  At first it seemed that Dale didn’t have his speech written out and was going to deliver it purely from memory, but then he pulled a folded piece of notebook paper from the waistband of his sweats. He smoothed it out on the podium, stared down at it for nearly a minute, seeming hypnotized by whatever was on the page. Then he shook his head, glanced up at the class, and started to speak, his voice hoarse and scratchy.

  “The Quarry is deep, the Quarry is dark, the Quarry will swallow you whole.”

  Nervous titters rippled through the room, and Emilio found himself sitting up rigid in his seat. There was a quavering desperation in his friend’s voice that was frightening.

  “It’ll grant eternal sleep and still your heart; the Quarry will rot your soul.”

  What the hell was this? Emilio knew better than anyone how thoroughly Dale had researched his speech, so why was he up there reciting some bizarre yet chilling bit of macabre poetry?

  “The Quarry’s alive, the Quarry hungers, its teeth are wicked and sharp.”

  Dale’s voice was gaining volume but it also cracked as if he were fighting back tears. He spoke as if biting each word, one at a time.

  “You’ll never survive once you go under; the Quarry is deep and dark.”

  As Dale’s last words, delivered in a harsh whisper, faded into silence, no one in the room spoke. No one seemed even to breathe or move, as if they were all frozen in the moment. Dr. Nance stood up front, a frown etching deep furrows into her forehead. Dale remained motionless at the podium, and for a brief second his gaze met Emilio’s, and Emilio gasped softly. His friend’s eyes were deep blue pools of emptiness, like a pond with no bottom.

  Across the room, someone let loose with a nervous laugh that seemed to break the spell. The room was filled suddenly with whispering and rustling. Dr. Nance started toward Dale, her frown deepening, if that were possible. Dale cringed away from her, sidestepped, and rushed out of the room, the paper with his “speech” written on it slipping from the podium and fluttering to the floor.

  “What was that all about?” Patty said.

  The whispering in the room grew louder, becoming a dull roar, until Dr. Nance clapped her hands together sharply, instantly gaining everyone’s attention. “That’ll be enough of that. We still have several speeches to get through, so we’ll carry on.”

  She called Lillie Stott to the podium, but Emilio gathered up his books and made for the door. He heard Patty call his name, and Dr. Nance glared at him disapprovingly, but he did not slow his pace. Having delivered his speech earlier in the week—rather disastrously—it wasn’t as if he’d actually be missing anything by skipping out of class early. He bounded down the stairs and out one of the building’s side doors. There weren’t many people out on the quad at this time, so he quickly spotted Dale ambling toward Fullerton Auditorium. He continued to move slowly, like he was suffering from arthritis of the knees. Emilio caught up to him in only a matter of seconds.

  “Dale, what happened in there?” Emilio asked.

  Dale didn’t respond, didn’t even glance over at his friend, as if he were unaware of Emilio’s presence. He merely continued forward, slipping between the auditorium and Winnie Davis Hall. Emilio kept pace with him. If they kept on in the same direction, they’d soon be off campus and heading for the Oakland Cemetery.

  “Stop for a minute,” Emilio said, putting a hand on Dale’s arm. “Talk to me.”

  Dale paused, turning his head so slowly Emilio imagined he could hear a rusty creaking. His eyes passed over Emilio’s face with no spark of recognition, then he squinted, blinked, and said uncertainly, “Em?”

  “Yeah, it’s me. What’s wrong with you?”

  “Nothing, nothing’s wrong. I’ve just got to get to class. Am I going in the wrong direction?”

  “Dale, you’ve already been to class.”

  Dale looked around himself as if he were in unfamiliar surroundings, recognizing none of the campus landmarks. Finally he held out his empty hands and glanced down at them. “Did I give my speech? I was supposed to give my speech today, wasn’t I?”

  “You gave your speech. Sort of. Dale, are you…high?”

  Dale frowned and tilted his head to the
side, as if he didn’t understand the question. Emilio knew his friend smoked a little pot and had a hearty appetite for beer, but he’d never known Dale to do anything harder than that. The way he was acting now, it seemed maybe he’d graduated beyond weed and booze.

  “Dale, why don’t you let me—”

  “I should go to the Quarry!”

  “What?”

  Dale, subdued to the point of near catatonia an instant before, seemed suddenly full of hyper energy, his body thrumming with it. “I need to go to the Quarry, I need to go right now.”

  “Why?”

  “Because…well, because…” Dale looked lost, and his hands opened and closed at his sides as if groping for something. “I don’t know why, but I need to go. Want to go to the Quarry with me?”

  Emilio gripped his friend by the shoulders and tried to force Dale to meet his eyes. “I think maybe you need a doctor. Why don’t we find someone to drive us to the emergency room?”

  Dale’s eyes went blank again, as if he’d checked out, leaving his body an empty shell, but then he inhaled deeply, as if he’d been holding his breath, and looked at Emilio with an expression that seemed almost frightened. “No, I don’t need a doctor. Home, I just need to get home. Walk me?”

  “Do you feel weak, like you can’t make it on your own?”

  “No, nothing like that, I just…I just need you to make sure I go home and not anywhere else.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “You don’t need to,” Dale said, grabbing Emilio’s arm so tightly that it hurt. “Just make sure I get home, okay?”

  “Sure thing, no problem.”

  Dale didn’t lean on Emilio, but he did keep a firm grip on Emilio’s arm as the two left campus.

  * * *

  Connie glanced at her watch again then at the door. It was nearly 9 p.m. and she’d been sitting alone in the Dobson Student Center for nearly an hour and a half. Nearby some guys were shooting pool, and two tables over, a couple, obviously on a date, were sipping sodas and practically slobbering over each other. Connie took her cell phone out of her purse and checked it, just to make sure she hadn’t missed a call or text. Nothing. She was just about to try Dale again when she heard the door open. She swiveled her head, hoping to see Dale.

  But it wasn’t Dale; it was Emilio. He spotted her and came over, taking a seat across the table.

  “You weren’t in English today,” she said.

  “Did Patty tell you what happened in Public Speaking this morning?”

  Connie nodded. “She said Dale was acting so creepy. Heard you went running out after him.”

  “I had to make sure he was okay.”

  “Was he?”

  “Far from it. He seemed dazed; I actually thought he might be on drugs or something. I walked him back to the house and he went straight to bed, was asleep almost before his head hit the pillow. I stayed there for a while, until Steve and Zeke got home. They started teasing me about watching over Dale like he was Sleeping Beauty and I was his Prince Charming, so I took off.”

  “What time was that?”

  “A little after noon I guess.”

  “Dale must have gotten out of bed just after you left.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “He called me around twelve-thirty, just as I was getting out of class.”

  “How did he sound?”

  “Fine, actually. Like nothing was wrong. That’s why I was so surprised when Patty told me how he behaved in class this morning.”

  “Well, what did he say?”

  “He asked me to meet him here tonight, promised that he was going to explain everything.”

  “What time is he supposed to meet you?”

  “Seven-thirty.”

  “Oh, I see. Has he called?”

  “No, and I’ve tried him a few times. Steve says he’s not at the house and he isn’t answering his cell.”

  Emilio chewed on his lip, a habit that had become so prevalent lately that Connie sometimes thought that his lips must taste like beef jerky for him to be gnawing on them so much. It was a wonder they weren’t constantly bleeding. “Maybe you should call him again.”

  Connie laughed, but there was no humor in the sound, only bitterness. “I think instead I’m going to come to my senses and stop acting like some stupid lovesick girl who lets a man walk all over her. I can’t believe I actually have been waiting here for this long. When he didn’t show up by eight and didn’t answer his phone, I should have marched my little ass right out the door. Which is exactly what I’m going to do now.”

  Connie started to get up, but Emilio put a hand over one of hers. “If you’d seen him this morning, how out of it he was. I’m telling you, there’s something very wrong with him. I don’t know what it is, if it’s physical or…”

  “Mental?” Connie supplied.

  “All I know is that he isn’t himself, and no matter how much he pushes us away, I think he needs us right now more than ever.”

  There was such earnestness in Emilio’s voice and eyes that she wanted to simultaneously kiss him and slap sense into him. Almost against her better judgment, she felt herself relenting. Although Emilio didn’t seem to realize it, a common trait he shared with Dale was the ability to talk people into things. Only Emilio always used his powers for good.

  “I’ll try him once more,” she said, pulling her phone back out. “If he doesn’t answer this time, I’m going to my room.”

  She had just put her hands on the phone when it rang, startling her and making her squeal then laugh from embarrassment. Glancing at the Caller ID, she made a “Hmpf” sound and held it out for Emilio to see. It was Dale’s cell.

  Flipping the phone open, she said, “Hello,” in a neutral tone.

  Silence from the other end.

  “Dale, are you there?”

  More silence, then softly, “Yeah, I’m here.”

  “Correction, you are not here. Here is the Student Center, where I am, where you asked me to be, where you failed to show. I don’t know where you are, but it most definitely isn’t here.”

  “I couldn’t make it.”

  Some of Emilio’s worry infecting her, she leaned forward and said, “Dale, are you all right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Seriously, Dale, whatever is going on, you can tell me.”

  “Nothing’s going on, except…”

  “Except what?”

  “I don’t want to see you.”

  A verbal slap to the face. Connie actually pulled the phone away from her ear and glanced down at it in consternation. Across the table, Emilio mouthed “What?” Ignoring him for the moment, putting the phone back to her ear, she said, “Listen buddy, you were the one who suggested we meet tonight, not me. If you didn’t want to see me, why’d you ask me to meet you?”

  “I’m sorry, I thought I could go through with it, but I just can’t. I want you to stay away from me.”

  “Are you breaking up with me?”

  “Just stay away, Connie. I mean it.”

  Before she could respond, the line went dead. She put the phone back in her purse and sat there for a moment, feeling stunned, too stunned to even answer Emilio when he said, “What happened? What did he say?”

  Finally—numbness bleeding into anger—Connie said, “The asshole just dumped me.”

  “What?”

  “Yeah, apparently he was going to meet me here to send me packing, but turns out he didn’t have the balls to do it face to face, so the chicken-shit dumped me over the fucking phone.”

  “That doesn’t make sense. Dale would never—”

  “Look, Em, I know you think Dale needs us right now, but you’re on your own with this crusade to figure out what the hell his problem is. I don’t need this shit.”

  Connie felt tears near the surface but fought against them; she was not going to waste any more energy on Dale. The whole thing was just too baffling. There had been no warning signs that she was aware of, no hints that he w
as a jerk in nice guy’s clothing. It had happened seemingly overnight. Instant jerk.

  “See you in Biology tomorrow,” she said to Emilio then bolted past him.

  * * *

  Emilio watched Connie hurry out of the Student Center, not quite believing this latest turn of events. True, Connie and Dale hadn’t been together all that long, but they seemed so right for each other, and as far as he knew they hadn’t been having any problems. Why would Dale break up with her, and in such a cruel manner? To Emilio, this was just more proof that Dale was in real trouble.

  He toyed with the idea of calling his mother and telling her he couldn’t make it home this weekend. Sunday was her 35th birthday, and Emilio’s Uncle Rory was coming up from Georgia to pick him up tomorrow. Now, however, he was thinking he should stick around campus this weekend, try to get to the bottom of what was going on with his friend. Emilio’s mother would probably be so drunk that she wouldn’t really notice if he was there or not, but he could just imagine the phone confrontation that would ensue if he called and told her he wasn’t coming. There would be tears, screaming, obscenities, and name-calling, all from his mother.

  Emilio got up from the table and turned to head back to his dorm, nearly bumping into a tall blonde girl who looked quite frantic. “Sorry,” Emilio mumbled.

  “Hey, I know you. You’re friends with Connie and Dale. Emory or something like that.”

  “Emilio.”

  “I’m Sheryl.”

  “Leslie’s roommate, right?”