The Quarry

by Mark Allan Gunnells

  She was distracted from the memory of the dream, and the warm feeling it gave her between her thighs, by a tapping sound, a repeating staccato—

  Rat-a-tat-tat…Rat-a-tat-tat…

  —from the window behind her.

  The tapping was followed by a lingering screech like nails down a chalkboard. Then it started again…

  Rat-a-tat-tat…

  Connie was afraid to move.

  Rat-a-tat…

  She took a deep breath and pushed herself up.

  …tat-tat-tat…Rat-a-tat…

  She turned her head slowly…

  Screeeeeee!

  She gasped and struggled for her voice.

  Dale’s pale, ghastly face leered at her, his nose pressed flat against the glass, his breath creating a fog that quickly dissipated. Then his lips split in a vile grin and he flicked his tongue out and licked the glass.

  Connie swallowed the dry lump in her throat and found her voice with a high-pitched shriek that would have put any Hollywood Scream Queen to shame.

  Steve was up in an instant, turning on the lamp next to his bed. His hair stuck up like a cartoon character that had just plugged his fingers in an electrical socket, and pillow-creases adorned the left side of his face like some kind of tribal tattoo. His eyes were wide and red but alert. “What’s going on? What’s the matter?”

  Connie looked at him then back to the window.

  The empty window, framing only the darkness outside.

  She bolted out of the bed and ran to Steve. “It was Dale! He was looking in at me through the window!”

  The bedroom door swung open quickly, and Connie screamed again.

  Brock and Zeke stepped into the room. “What the fuck is all the racket about?” Zeke growled.

  Rubbing his eyes, Steve said, “I think Connie had a nightmare.”

  “No, it wasn’t a nightmare. Trust me, I’ve had plenty of nightmares lately; I know the difference. I was wide awake, and Dale was standing outside the window, looking in at me.”

  Brock walked over to the window and glanced out at the night. “There are some streaks on the outside, bro. Looks almost like saliva or something.”

  Without another word, Steve went to the closet and snatched a Louisville Slugger. Turning to Brock and Zeke, he said, “Stay with Connie and call the police.”

  “Steve, don’t go out there,” Connie said, grabbing at his arm but coming away empty. “You don’t know what he’s capable of.”

  “Wrong! He doesn’t know what I’m capable of!”

  Before Connie could counter, Steve left the room.

  Zeke snatched up the phone and called 911.

  Minutes passed as they waited for the police to arrive and Steve to come back. And the longer he was outside the more nervous she became.

  She sat on the edge of Steve’s bed, hands clutched in her lap, saying a silent prayer for his safety. And in that moment she realized that no matter how much she tried to deny it, she had real feelings for Steve.

  When they heard the front door open, she rushed into the living room.

  Steve stood in the doorway.

  And relief washed over Connie like a waterfall. But then she noticed the right side of his face…

  Swollen; the flesh around his right eye, turning a nasty purplish-blue.

  “Jesus man, what happened?” Brock said, stepping up behind Connie.

  “It was Dale all right. Soon as I got outside, I saw him taking off across the neighbor’s backyard. I chased the fucker half a block before I caught up with him.”

  “God, are you okay?” Connie asked, reaching out and tentatively touching the side of his face, causing him to wince.

  “I’m fine, but the fucker got away from me again. I cracked him good in the leg with the bat, and I swear I heard his fibula snap, but then he clocked me right in the eye, a sucker punch but a good one, and I fell flat on my ass. By the time I got back up he’d hobbled off somewhere.”

  “Well, if you broke his leg, he couldn’t have gotten far,” Zeke said. “Let’s go find his sorry ass.”

  “No!” Connie shouted, causing all eyes to turn to her. “The police are on their way, just let them handle Dale.”

  Steve put his hands on her shoulders. “Connie, that bastard came here to hurt you.”

  “But he didn’t. You saved me…again. Now let the police take over, I don’t want to see you get hurt anymore.”

  Connie slid her arms around Steve, and they embraced while sirens approached in the distance.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  EMILIO STOOD AT Norman’s bay window the next morning, staring out at the overcast day. The sky was blanketed in gray clouds that promised rain, thunder rumbling in the distance like the sound of God’s stomach growling. He was already late for Art Appreciation, but if he hustled he could still make Biology.

  Norman came down the stairs wearing faded jeans and a blue button-up shirt with the buttons undone, his hair still wet from the shower. “Bathroom’s free if you want to wash up,” he said, snagging a carton of orange juice from the fridge and pouring a glass on his way to the living room area. “Don’t really have anything to make you for breakfast, but we can stop by McDonald’s on the way to campus if you want.”

  Emilio grunted noncommittally and kept his eyes trained outside.

  The first drops of rain made leaves shiver.

  Norman wrapped his arms around Emilio and kissed the back of his neck. “You should have joined me in the shower. There’s nothing quite like getting dirty while you’re getting clean.”

  Emilio chuckled and reached back, running a hand through Norman’s auburn hair. “What are your plans for today?”

  “Well, after I drop you off at school, I’m going to do a little grocery shopping then stop by Limestone and talk to Pam about missing class last night, then I have a few errands to run before heading back here to try and get some shuteye before my shift tonight.”

  “What if you skipped it?”

  “Work?”

  “No, all the places you have to go today. What if you blow all that off, and I blow off the rest of my classes, and we just spend the day on the couch watching old movies?”

  “Sounds like heaven, but why don’t we wait until tomorrow for that, when neither of us has anything to do?”

  Emilio turned around and kissed him, hands sliding into the open shirt. “Isn’t there anything I can do to convince you to stay in today?”

  Taking Emilio’s hands in his own, Norman smiled, kissed him again, then said, “I know last night was rough, Em, it was for me too. But we can’t just hide away from the world and expect all the bad stuff to go away. It doesn’t work like that.”

  “How do you know? Have you tried it?”

  “What about this? I’ll drop by campus around noon and we can have lunch together. Sound good?”

  “Not as good as my plan.”

  “Well, I’m yours all weekend. We can veg out for forty-eight hours if you want. We’ll shut the door to the outside world and refuse to let it back in until Monday morning.”

  “Promise?”

  “Cross my heart, hope to die.”

  * * *

  It sat in the shadowy darkness, the smell of dust and mildew thick in its borrowed nostrils, listening to the sound of the rain drumming on the roof overhead.

  Pain radiated through the vessel’s body in waves, originating in the left leg. Blood soaked the lower part of the jeans it wore, and a bone had erupted up through the skin.

  In its own form, it had never known pain.

  And it hated the sensation. It hated everything about the vessel. But, for now, it was one with the vessel.

  Sweat soaked through its clothes, though it shivered uncontrollably. And several times in the night it had drifted out of consciousness.

  It was lucky to have made it back here, to this safe place, familiar to it from years before. It could barely stand now, and it felt an unfamiliar emotion—panic?—taking hold.

 
It wasn’t done yet and wasn’t strong enough to break free. Almost, but not quite. A few more souls were needed, which meant it was stuck with this vessel.

  No!

  It needed a vessel.

  A new vessel.

  A healthy vessel.

  Yes!

  Pressing its back against the wall, it forced itself to stand. The pain that shot through the body was like an atomic explosion of pure white agony, and it slumped back to the floor.

  Moisture trickled down its face, coating its lips.

  No. Not mine. None of this is really mine! The vessel’s! The vessel’s lips…

  Then it licked those vile, cracked lips and recognized the taste.

  Not sweat.

  It was crying.

  * * *

  After buying the few groceries he could afford, Norman returned to his apartment and put everything away. It was only 11:15, which meant he still had a good 45 minutes before he needed to meet Emilio at Limestone, leaving him with just enough time to run a quick errand.

  The rain was really coming down now, not quite a downpour but definitely more than a drizzle.

  Norman got into the car and started off toward campus; his old windshield wipers squealed with each swipe of the glass, sending chills through his body.

  He wasn’t entirely sure why he needed to run the errand, and something deep within told him not to, but…Felder’s story, much as he hated to admit it, had nagged at the back of his brain since hearing it. And he had to check it out. For himself, and for Emilio.

  At the end of College Drive, Norman took a right onto Griffith Street and drove around campus, the road circling until he was on the opposite side of the Quarry across from the school. He slowed and turned into a gravel drive next to a rundown, abandoned church. The church Felder said the diver had holed up in back in the early ’60s. The church where Felder had shot and killed Pete Campbell.

  Norman didn’t believe a word of Felder’s story, of course, but what if Emilio was right? What if Felder had recounted his tale to Dale, who in his own troubled state had latched onto it, incorporating it into his own madness? He had told Emilio that he couldn’t stray too far from the Quarry, so what if he’d decided to seek refuge in the same place Felder’s supposedly possessed diver had all those years ago?

  It wouldn’t hurt to look, and, if nothing else, it might ease his own mind. Like a child looking under the bed just to make sure the boogeyman’s still not there.

  He pulled his car around to the parking lot in back of the church. The rain was partially shielded by a clump of trees growing close together.

  Norman stepped out, the gravel crunching under his feet. He stuck his 9 mm in the waistband of his pants and approached the dilapidated structure, noting the large padlock that secured the back door and the thick boards that covered all the windows.

  Except for one.

  Next to the stairs that led up to the backdoor was a small rectangular window close to that ground which he assumed led into the basement. The boards had been pried loose from this window, the glass long since knocked out.

  Norman paused for a moment. Looked around. Then proceeded with caution.

  But he thought he was being silly, too. Chances were that vandals had pried off the boards, perhaps scavengers looking for pipes to sell for scrap metal or teenagers looking for a private place to have a good time.

  Just a quick look. Nothing more…

  It was too dark inside to see much, so he went back to the car and got a flashlight out of the glove compartment. Crouching on his haunches, he shined the flashlight inside.

  Pale blue eyes reflected the light…

  Before he could react, he was pulled through the opening.

  * * *

  Emilio tried Norman’s cell number again but got no answer. He’d already left several messages on both his cell and home voicemails and didn’t bother leaving another.

  “Still no answer?” Connie asked.

  Emilio shook his head, gnawing on his lower lip like it was a piece of tough beef.

  “Maybe he just got held up somewhere.”

  “It’s after six, Connie. He said he’d meet me for lunch at noon; he’d have called me if something came up and he couldn’t make it. Besides, he was supposed to meet with Pam Wylie in the Block Program office today as well, but I called her and she said he didn’t show. Something must have happened to him.”

  “Well, normally I’d say you were being paranoid, but with everything that’s been going on lately…”

  Connie trailed off, but Emilio didn’t need her to finish her thought. His worry was so great that it sat like a boulder in his gut. Connie had driven them over to Vernon Street, and now they were both standing outside Norman’s apartment, huddled together under an umbrella. Though Norman’s Oldsmobile was gone, Emilio had hammered on the door for ten minutes anyway. He would have kept at it longer, but a tenant from one of the neighboring apartments had yelled, “Shut the fuck up!”

  “Do you think I should call the police?” Emilio asked.

  “I don’t know, Em. Isn’t there a rule about someone having to be missing at least twenty-four hours before the police can do anything?”

  “Damned if I know. Everything I know about the law I learned from TV.”

  “Look, he’s supposed to work tonight, right? Just call down to the security office after midnight and see if he’s there. If not, then you can start to panic.”

  “I guess you’re right. There’s not a lot else I can do.”

  “I should get you back to campus,” Connie said, staring up at the darkening sky. “Curfew takes affect in just a little while.”

  With one last look at the apartment door, Emilio climbed into the passenger’s seat of Connie’s Jeep. As they pulled off the narrow street and turned onto Montgomery, Emilio said, “Get me back to campus?”

  “What?”

  “You said you should get me back to campus. Does that mean you’ll be spending the night with Steve again?”

  “I’m not spending the night with him. I mean, I am, but not the way you’re making it sound. I’m just staying at his place, in separate beds. I feel safe there.”

  “Even though Dale was peeping in at you last night? Almost seems like you’d be safer locked in the dorm.”

  “Yeah, that’s probably what Patty thought too,” Connie said quietly.

  Emilio didn’t have a response for that, so he kept his mouth shut. As they headed down College Drive past the Oakland Cemetery, he turned to Connie and said, “What if Norm’s just avoiding me?”

  Connie glanced at him with a look of pure understanding. “You don’t really believe that, do you?”

  “I don’t know. I mean, I’m kind of new to all this. Maybe I was too needy or trying to move things along too fast. Maybe he realized I’m just a geeky kid and decided he didn’t want to see me anymore. Don’t some guys do that when they’re tired of someone, just stop taking calls and avoid the person?”

  “From everything you’ve told me about him, Norman doesn’t seem that type.”

  “What do I know? It’s not like I have much experience with guys.”

  “Trust me, you’re adorable,” Connie said, reaching out and patting him on the knee. “I’m sure he’s head over heels.”

  Emilio felt the blush rising in his cheeks. “Maybe I’m just hoping he lost interest.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I don’t want to consider the alternative.”

  Connie seemed about to respond when Emilio’s cell phone started chirping in his pocket, indicating that he had a text message.

  He snatched the phone. Looked at the display. “It’s from Norman!”

  “See, told you he was fine. What does it say?”

  Emilio flipped open the phone and hit READ. “ ‘Em, sorry I’ve been out of touch. Found something interesting that might shed a little light on the Dale situation. Please come meet me at the old church across from the Quarry. Love, Norm.’ ”

 
Connie frowned. “Found out something about Dale? What do you think it is?”

  “No idea, but I know the church he’s talking about. Felder said it’s where that diver was hiding out.”

  “The diver that was under the supernatural control of the Quarry goblin?”

  “Hey, I didn’t say I believed the story, but Norman must have gone to check it out.”

  “You said he thought it was all bullshit?”

  “He did.”

  Connie didn’t say anything, but her expression suggested there was more she wanted to say.

  “What is it?”

  “This whole situation just seems funky to me. What would he have to show you out at that old church, and why did he text you instead of calling?”

  “I don’t know, but I’m damn curious to find out what this is all about. Would you mind dropping me by the church?”

  Connie looked at him skeptically.

  “Come on, it’s not that far out of the way, and you don’t even have to stay. I’ll catch a ride back with Norman.”

  Connie remained silent for about thirty seconds before sighing and saying, “Fine, I’ll take you, but I’m sticking around until I make sure everything is copasetic.”

  “Thanks,” Emilio said and started to text Norman back.

  Connie drove with one hand while she reached between the seats and dug her own cell out of her purse. “I told Steve I’d be at his place by six-thirty. I better call him and tell him what’s going on so he won’t worry.”

  Emilio finished his text, hit SEND, then leaned back in the seat, relieved to know that Norman was all right and he’d be with him soon.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  CONNIE DIDN’T LIKE this one bit, but Emilio seemed oblivious. Blinded by love, she guessed. Much as she had been with Dale not too long ago. She’d called Steve, who seemed equally ill at ease with the idea of her and Emilio going alone to the isolated church, but she promised to call him back in fifteen minutes.