The Quarry

by Mark Allan Gunnells

  Steve looked at the drawing for a moment then gave it back to Connie. “It’s good, but why are you drawing it?”

  She shrugged and said, “Therapy, I guess.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I don’t know, but it’s like if I can get him down on paper, I can diminish him, make him less of a boogeyman. When I’m done, I’m planning on burning it. Sort of a symbolic thing, I guess.”

  Steve smirked. “Sounds a bit voodooish. This won’t involve sticking pins in an effigy, will it?”

  “Don’t make fun,” Connie said, swatting him on the arm with the pad.

  “Hey, just trying to keep things light.”

  “But things aren’t light right now, far from it.”

  “All the more reason to try to find something to laugh about. It’s the best way to stay sane under the circumstances.”

  Connie sat on the edge of her bed, and Steve sat opposite her on the one that had belonged to Kasey, now stripped to the bare mattress. That whole side of the room was bare, a rather depressing sight.

  “Have you heard from Kasey since she left?” Steve asked, as if reading her thoughts.

  “She called me once. She’s taking an incomplete for this semester and plans to transfer to the University of Vermont in the fall.”

  “Man, your roommates are dropping like flies,” Steve said then instantly seemed to regret it, his face registering shock and remorse. “Jesus, I’m sorry, that was totally inappropriate, and I didn’t mean it the way it came out.”

  Connie tried to smile but failed. “That’s okay, it’s probably what everyone’s thinking. I bet Housing has a hard time finding anyone else who wants to room with me.”

  “Look on the bright side, you get your own private room that way.”

  “You’re a real glass-is-half-full kind of guy,” Connie said with a weak laugh.

  “I try to be optimistic. I’ve still got my fingers crossed that they’ll just cancel the rest of the year and give us all a four-point average for the semester.”

  “Hope springs eternal.”

  “I guarantee enrollment’s going to be way down next term. Hell, all this on top of what happened last year.”

  “What happened last year?”

  “You didn’t hear? Two girls, from this very dorm in fact, committed suicide over in the Oakland Cemetery.”

  “Yeah, I do remember hearing something about that. A prank gone awry or something, right?”

  Steve shrugged. “No one knows for sure what went down. There was a third girl involved but she dropped out. The administration tried to downplay the incident since it didn’t technically occur on school property.”

  “That’s horrible.”

  “Yeah, but nothing compared to what happened about a decade ago. A student went berserk on Halloween and started offing people in a school-sponsored spook house being held in Granberry.”

  Connie tilted her head skeptically and said, “Is that true, or are you just pulling my leg? That has the reek of urban legend about it.”

  “Look it up if you don’t believe me.”

  “Well, I guess I’ll just have to trust you. Every school has its skeletons, I suppose.”

  “True, but for such a small campus, Limestone seems to have racked up more than its fair share of skeletons over the years.”

  “Maybe it was built on an Indian burial ground or something.”

  Steve got up and wandered over to the room’s one window, which looked out toward the Quarry. He stood in silence for several moments then said, his back still to Connie, “Do you think Leslie is really dead?”

  Connie wasn’t expecting the question, and at first wasn’t sure how to respond. All she could come up with was, “What do you mean?”

  “Everyone is just assuming Dale killed Leslie and Patty and dumped their bodies, but we don’t know that for sure. He could have just stashed them somewhere.”

  “But when they found him with Dr. Brighton, he was pulling her toward the lake.”

  “Maybe she was too old for him,” Steve said with a humorless laugh.

  Connie felt the pain radiating off of him in waves. She walked up behind him and, after a momentary hesitation, placed a hand on his shoulder.

  He turned around, tears in his eyes.

  She took him in her arms.

  And, silently, they held each other tight for a very long time.

  * * *

  Norman handed Emilio a soda as he sat down next to him on the sofa. “Did you like the movie?”

  Emilio half-shrugged a shoulder. “It was okay, kind of cheesy.”

  “What? The Howling, cheesy? Surely you jest.”

  “The effects looked really fake, like something they’d make fun of on Mystery Science Theater. They should remake it using CGI.”

  Norman made a face like someone had suggested using kittens for batting practice. “You know what, since you are a guest in my home, I’m going to let that little piece of blasphemy slide. Mind if I take my shoes off?”

  “It’s your apartment.”

  Norman kicked off his shoes and placed his feet on the coffee table, wiggling his toes at Emilio. “Yes, but I don’t want to be rude. So I have a couple more hours before I have to start getting ready for work, how would you like to pass the time?”

  Emilio shrugged and sipped his soda.

  He and Norman had been hanging out a lot over the past six days, having spent nearly the entire weekend together. Since finding out for sure that Dale was still alive and lurking around campus, it made Emilio feel safer to have Norman around. And Norman was nice and funny in a quirky way, and cute as hell. They hadn’t kissed since the first night Emilio had visited the guard’s apartment, but there had been a lot of casual touching, and some hand-holding tonight as they’d watched the horror film.

  Emilio had come over tonight with the intention of telling Norman what he’d found out from the Historical Society. He’d looked up the name Curt Felder in the phonebook and found a number and an address out on Highway 101. He’d called the number several times throughout the day but received no answer, not even an answering machine or voicemail. He’d been hoping to convince Norman to give him a lift to the old man’s home so he could talk to him face to face.

  But so far he hadn’t found the right moment to broach the subject. They were having such a lovely evening, then the hand-holding, and he didn’t want to spoil the mood. He knew Norman thought he should drop his obsession with the Quarry, so he’d decided to shelve the topic for another time.

  “We could converse about foreign policy,” Norman said, throwing an arm over Emilio’s shoulders and pulling him closer. “Health care reform, the war in Afghanistan, the likelihood Miley Cyrus will sustain her career into adulthood.”

  Emilio laughed. “Anyone ever told you that you’re totally silly?”

  “Well, we could do this,” Norman said, then leaned in to kiss Emilio. A deep, passionate kiss that left Emilio breathless. Norman’s warm hands ran under his shirt, a thumb running over his nipple and bringing it to attention.

  “I thought you didn’t want to get involved,” Emilio gasped.

  “What the hell do I know?” Norman said. “I’m an idiot.”

  Then they kissed again, sliding down and into the sofa.

  Chapter Seventeen

  TUESDAY AFTERNOON, Connie sat in the library with Steve and tried to study for an upcoming Math test. And Steve, who was supposed to be researching a U.S. History paper, kept making funny faces at her, causing her to laugh and lose focus. Ms. Cosgrove, behind the check-out counter, shot them several poisonous glares.

  The second floor of the library ran around the circumference of the building with a large railed opening at the center so that the first floor was visible from upstairs.

  She looked up and saw Emilio standing at the railing. He waved at her then pushed a cart heaped high with books around the corner until he was out of sight.

  “Hey Goofy,” Connie said, keeping her voice low
so as to avoid anymore of the librarian’s disapproval, “I’m going to run upstairs. Be right back.”

  Steve responded by crossing his eyes and puffing out his cheeks in a cartoonish expression that had her dissolving into giggles again.

  She hurried to the stairwell next to the copier and ascended the stairs.

  Emilio was found deep in the mythology section, shelving books thick enough to serve as footstools. He smiled when he saw her.

  “Hey there,” he said. “Long time no see. You weren’t in English earlier.”

  “No, I played hookie and took an early lunch. You weren’t in Biology yesterday.”

  “We should coordinate our schedules so we skip the same classes on the same days.”

  Connie laughed then ran her fingers over the spines on the nearest shelf. “I guess we haven’t really talked much in the past several days.”

  “Yeah, I know. I’ve been meaning to call, but I’ve just been kind of busy. And whenever I see you around campus lately, you always seem to be with Steve.”

  “We’ve been spending a lot of time together, it’s true.”

  “So you guys have gotten…close?”

  “It’s nothing like what you might be thinking. Nothing’s going on between us. We’re just friends. We need each other right now for support, comfort.”

  “And you can’t get those things from anyone else?”

  “Come on, Steve’s not the asshole we thought he was. Ever since what happened to Leslie, he’s been different. More grounded and mature.”

  “Yeah, last conversation I had with him he knocked me to the floor and threatened me. Real mature.”

  “He told me about that,” Connie said, reaching out and squeezing Emilio’s forearm. “He was really upset, lashing out. He feels just awful about it.”

  “I guess that’s why he came and apologized to me. Oh wait, that didn’t happen.”

  “If you could spend some time around him, I bet you two would get along. The three of us should get together and do something. What do you say?”

  “Well, if I ever want to hang out with you again, I guess I don’t have much of a choice. You two seem joined at the hip these days.”

  Connie crossed her arms and tilted her head, giving Emilio an appraising look. “Well, it’s not as if you’ve been around much lately yourself. I tried your cell phone several times last night.”

  Emilio turned away, and she thought she detected a blush. “Oh yeah, I had it turned off.”

  “So I gathered. And since that prehistoric prepaid plan of yours doesn’t include voicemail, I ended up calling your room about ten-thirty. Phil said you weren’t in and that you had been coming in late most nights for the past week.”

  “Phil never told me you called last night.”

  “Don’t change the subject, Em. Where were you?”

  “Just out with a friend.”

  “And this friend’s name…?”

  Now she was sure Emilio was blushing; his face looked like a turnip. “Norman,” he said. “The nighttime security guard.”

  “Oh, the carrot top? The one who…?”

  Emilio nodded.

  “I wasn’t even aware you guys knew each other.”

  “We’ve just recently started seeing…I mean, hanging out.”

  “Really? And what do you guys do?”

  “Mostly just watch movies and have dinner over at his apartment.”

  “I see,” Connie said with a knowing smile. Then, unable to help herself, she added, “So is he a good kisser?”

  Emilio looked like he’d just witnessed a woman give birth to a full-grown kangaroo, and he fumbled the book in his hands until it fell at his feet. He stammered and sputtered. “What...how…why would you ask me something like that?”

  “Because I’m not totally naïve. You’re not fooling me one bit.”

  “Apparently I’m not fooling anyone. How long have you known?”

  “I suspected within the first five minutes of meeting you, but it took me a full fifteen minutes to be sure.”

  “Jesus, do I have an announcement tattooed on my forehead?”

  “A girl can always tell.”

  Emilio retrieved the fallen book from the floor and found its place on the shelf. “Do you think Dale knew?” he asked suddenly.

  Connie didn’t answer right away. She was trying not to think about Dale too much. Finally, she shrugged and said, “Hard to say. I don’t think straight guys are as attuned to this sort of thing.”

  “Well, it’s not that I’m ashamed of it or anything, it just seems to me that it’s nobody else’s business. A personal matter, you know?”

  “I understand. Some things are private. Now, is this Norman a good kisser or not?”

  “Connie,” Emilio exclaimed, turning into a turnip-head again. “What happened to privacy?”

  “But I’m one of your closest friends. You can share these kinds of secrets with me and know I won’t tell anyone.”

  “Not even your new best friend, Steve?”

  “Cross my heart.”

  Emilio hesitated, chewing on his lip, but she could tell he was just bursting to talk about it. When the cork popped, his words came out in a rush.

  “He’s really nice and he makes me feel special and I can’t believe he’d even be interested in me and yes, he’s a very good kisser.”

  “Is that all he’s good at?”

  “Connie, don’t be nasty!”

  “Give me a break. I’ve been waiting since last semester for you to come clean so we could dish about guys. I want all the sordid details.”

  Looking flustered, Emilio turned back to his books, but he was smiling. “Won’t Steve be wondering where you’ve gotten to?”

  “Fine, I’ll let you off the hook…for now. But we will talk later. I just have one more question to ask before I go.”

  “What?”

  “Does the carpet match the drapes?”

  Emilio put on his shocked face again, but this time it slipped as he laughed and nodded.

  * * *

  It was 4:40 when Emilio finished up with the shelving and came back downstairs. It would have been nice if Ms. Cosgrove just told him to call it an early day, but he knew better than that. Instead she pointed to a pile of teacher’s manuals and laminated letters used for bulletin boards and said, without even bothering to look up at him, “Take those down to the curriculum lab.”

  With an inward sigh, he gathered the items into his arms and did as he was told.

  Rather than taking the elevator, he walked through the library proper and used the stairs. His footsteps echoed through the stairwell as he descended to the basement.

  He entered the curriculum lab. Primarily used by Education majors, the cluttered space was, as usual, deserted.

  But something was different now.

  A sour smell hung in the room.

  Did a rat die in here?

  Emilio shook off the thought and went about putting up the items on the metal shelves, wondering if he should have asked Connie to do something this evening. Norman had class, so Emilio was free for the night.

  But if he got together with Connie, that would mean getting together with Steve. And no matter how much Connie assured him that Steve was a changed man, Emilio wasn’t comfortable around Steve. Emilio would probably just spend tonight trying to catch up on some school work. Or maybe…

  Norman’s class ended at 9:30; Emilio could meet him outside Montgomery and they could spend an hour or so together before Norman’s shift started. No, he thought. Too clingy; He didn’t want to come across as needy or desperate. After all, he and Norman hadn’t known each other that long.

  And yet he couldn’t stop thinking about last night. He’d been awkward and unsure at first, but Norman had been patient with him, taking things slow and easing Emilio into it.

  It was an experience he would never forget. A bright moment in a dark time.

  Emilio felt a breeze on the back of his neck, reminding him of the feel
of Norman’s warm breath.

  He smiled then turned to find the door leading to the back parking lot was cracked.

  That’s odd…

  He’d never known this door to be left opened or even unlocked. Stepping toward it, he noticed that the jamb was damaged, chunks of wood missing.

  Emilio froze in place, knowing in a way that bordered on precognition what the jimmied door meant.

  He wasn’t even alarmed when Dale said his name softly from the corner of the room.

  As if in a dream where he had no control over his own body, Emilio found himself turning toward the voice even though every fiber of his being was urging him to break for the stairs. Turning slowly…turning…turning…until he faced the corner from where the voice had come.

  At first he saw nothing, and he wondered if he had imagined the voice, but then Dale stepped out from behind one of the metal shelving units that stretched up nearly to the ceiling and into the light.

  Emilio gasped and stepped backward.

  The thing standing before him didn’t look like Dale. More like a Halloween costume of Dale. A grotesque nightmare version of his once vibrant friend.

  Skin, pale to the point that it was almost translucent…veins standing out starkly like the lines of a map…an unhealthy yellowish tinge to his complexion. Dark purple bags hung under his eyes like bruises, and his lips were cracked and bleeding. The jeans and hooded sweatshirt he wore were caked with filth and grime, and the sour smell Emilio had detected earlier was wafting from Dale, only stronger and more nauseating now. A gaping, oozing wound in Dale’s left shoulder—from where Norman shot him!—was plugged with grayish-black mud.

  “Long time no see, buddy,” Dale said, but his cadence and intonation sounded strange. “You don’t look like you’re happy to see me.”

  Emilio tried to speak, but produced only a high-pitched whine. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Dale…what…what are you doing here?”

  “Hiding out. Seems like everybody in Gaffney is hunting me.”

  “And yet you’re still hanging around campus…” Emilio wondered if he could reach into his pocket for his cell phone without Dale noticing, but then he remembered that he’d left it in his room to charge this morning.