Stillness

by Eldon Farrell

  But he was still different—still distant and emotionally unavailable. But at least he was trying to reconnect with her and that brought some joy back into Lynne’s life.

  When they would go to visit her mother in the hospital she would just sit catatonically in a chair by the window. No matter how much Lynne told her about what was new in her life; her mother’s reaction was always the same glassy stare.

  Her father told her not to let it get her down, that her mother loved her and was just sick at the moment. But if they both continued to love her and try that one day she would find her way back to them.

  That was all Lynne wanted—to find a way back. But as the weeks turned into months and the months turned into years it seemed less and less likely.

  Still though, at least she had her father to lean on, even if he was just a shell of his former self. One summer when she was ten years old, she spent nearly every day by his side. He would take her with him to his office at the Center for Disease Control and Prevention, where she would develop a lasting love of science. The more she learned about the ins and outs of infection the more proud her father became.

  She learned much about what her father did for a living that summer. He was the head of the CDC’s special EIS program. Much like a detective, he would discover the mysteries behind outbreaks and reveal the cause to save lives. The knowledge made her proud.

  Never in all the time she spent with her father that summer did it once occur to her that what he was doing could be dangerous. The ten year old mind just doesn’t recognize danger in the same way as an adult.

  A few months after she started high school, the call she had wanted for five years finally came. Her mother was going to be released.

  The news filled her with such joy that she felt she might burst. She had missed her mother so much over the past five years. And now that she had grown closer to her father again she felt certain that the way back had been found.

  Together with Maria and her father they decorated the front living area in bright colors and balloons for her mother’s arrival.

  When she arrived home the sight brought a smile to her face and a tear to Lynne’s eyes. She had not seen her mother smile in such a long time. Everything was going to be fine now—she was certain.

  She was wrong.

  Gradually the happiness that she longed for slipped away from her again, swallowed by the cracks in the foundation.

  Her father pulled away again, taking more and more far-reaching assignments. Her mother’s smile slowly faded to memory again as she began to drift aimlessly about the home—lingering often by the empty nursery.

  Fourteen year old Lynne was desperate to save her family from the same fate that they had already suffered. But once learned self-destructive behavior is hard to forget.

  Before she would graduate high school her mother was back in the institution after another attempt with sleeping pills. Olivia Bosworth would never again see the outside world.

  This time her father did not return to the home. She was, after all, sixteen and old enough to take care of herself. And in a few years she would be off to college and a life of her own.

  Before that life could begin though, a last act in the tragic play that had become her life had to be written. In the small hours of a summer morning, her mother passed from this life to the next one.

  The news hit her hard. At seventeen she had lost the mother she hadn’t really known since she was a little girl.

  The funeral was a somber affair with friends and family offering a seemingly endless parade of condolences. She greeted them all with the same stoic acceptance. “Yes it’s a tragedy what happened to her. Yes, she was a great person. Yes she will be missed dearly.”

  After the service, and alone with her father, Lynne laid into him with the force of years of frustration. She accused him of abandoning his family. Of never being there when mom or herself needed him. She was hurt by the loss of her mother and maybe wasn’t being fair to her father, but still she meant every word she said.

  She would leave the funeral home that day to pack a bag. She was starting Oxford in the fall and was determined not to spend another summer in the family home that had completely fallen apart around her.

  The change of scenery would prove to be good for her. She spent the summer working odd jobs while exploring the English countryside. After so much heartbreak it was amazing how much difference an ocean between her and her problems could make.

  She didn’t talk to her father again until three months into her first term at Oxford, when he called to wish her a happy birthday. When his card arrived days later it was signed “I’m proud of you.”

  Despite herself, she cried.

  Over the next few years the hurt of her loss gradually receded allowing her father back into her life. While he only came to Oxford once to see her, they spoke about twice a month on the phone and she even returned to Atlanta for one Christmas break.

  Their relationship was progressing to normalcy again when he received the assignment to go to Belize. The government there had requested the United States’ help in controlling an outbreak of Dengue hemorrhagic fever.

  He phoned her to say that he would be away on assignment for awhile but would see her at her graduation ceremony in a month. She was graduating near the top of her class with a PhD in virology and he was “so very proud” of her.

  Much like the ten year old that she had once been, she gave the assignment not another thought.

  The last delusions of safety she had disappeared on a rainy England morning three weeks later.

  The phone call came to her from Roger Whittaker—her father’s best friend at the agency—telling her that her father had become infected with Dengue hemorrhagic fever.

  “An accident in the field…these things can happen…we’ll do everything we can for him…”

  A few days later he was gone and she was devastated and utterly alone.

  Because she knew that he would’ve wanted her to attend, she went to her graduation but could hardly contain the tears. Once again, a day that was supposed to be so filled with joy had become inundated with sorrow.

  She always had an intense focus on her work—to the point of excluding all other aspects of her life—but after her father passed she was gone, lost in the minute details of her work.

  After college she accepted a fellowship in the virology labs at Porton Down, where her intensity and dedication lifted her to the position of laboratory supervisor within four years.

  She was gaining a reputation as one of the pre-eminent virologists in the world, due to her work on emerging tropical diseases and the evolution of retroviruses, when six months ago she left the lab and England to return stateside.

  Driven by what many have concluded is a need to follow in her father’s footsteps—to gain his ghostly approval—she took a position at the CDC with the special EIS program.

  At thirty-one years of age she’s cast aside her past in virology and set a course for a future in epidemiology. A future that she knows will be, for better or worse, lived out in the shadow of her father.

  But then none of us can run from the past forever.

  Chapter 2

  October 12, the Present

  Stillness, Iowa

  I’m never drinking again.

  Opening his eyes a crack, Tyler Perry feels the immediate effects of last night’s binge. Pressure behind his temples stabs at his eyes, as the headache attempts to escape from inside his head.

  Raising up off the ground he groans and falls back, cracking his head against the dirt with another moan. Opening his eyes further he suddenly realizes where he is.

  “Josh,” he calls for his drinking buddy as he attempts yet again to sit up. “Wake up Josh.”

  A groan from the semi-darkness greets him.

  “Josh why are we still in the cave?”

  Opening his own eyes, Josh stretches with an audible moan and replies dumbly “What?”

  “We’re still i
n the cave Josh.” Tyler tries to stand but as the cave spins around him he thinks better of it and remains seated. “How much did we drink last night anyway?”

  “Not that much.”

  “Yeah right,” Tyler puts his hand to his head to help with the pounding. “I’m never drinking again.”

  Sitting up Josh scoffs, “Yeah where have I heard that before?”

  “I mean it this time man. Christ we didn’t even go home last night. Aren’t you hung over?”

  “Nope,” Josh replies, “I guess some of us can hold our alcohol a little better than others.” With that he stumbles over his own feet and lands hard in front of Tyler.

  With a sheepish grin he says, “Maybe I’m a little hung over.”

  Breathing with some difficulty Tyler says, “I need to take a piss,” as he finally manages to reach his feet.

  “Well go find a hole somewhere man and I’ll clean up these bottles.”

  Carefully Tyler steps around the debris of bottles and cans—the obvious remnants of a great night of debauchery. Moving deeper into the cave he squints to see in the dim morning light that shines from the mouth of the cave.

  The caverns at Crater Lake are known all over the state for providing recreational spelunkers with miles of explored terrain. Not too mention several catacombs that are still not mapped properly.

  Tyler and Josh discovered one of these “off-the-map” caves a few years back and have been using it ever since when they really want to have a crazy night, or get lucky with some piece of ass, or both.

  Finding an offshoot from the main cave Tyler stumbles into it and somehow manages to work the zipper on his jeans without a mishap.

  Sighing as he relieves himself he begins to feel dizzy and reaches out a hand to steady himself against the wall. Closing his eyes he tries to remember what happened last night but it’s all a blur.

  Finished, he gives a shake and pulls his zipper up—carefully. Turning to head back to Josh he hears the distinct sound of water running. Curious he bends down and listens for where it’s coming from.

  In his inebriated state it never occurs to him that his piss would make the exact same sound as it runs to the lowest point in the ground.

  When it finally stops he rises up again and immediately realizes that he got up to quick. Losing his balance he takes an awkward step forward and begins to slide to the ground.

  The loose gravel under foot gives way as he reaches wildly for the wall to hold himself up with. He hits the ground hard with a thud that forces the air from his lungs.

  Before he can stop himself he’s sliding down the steep incline of another cavern wall. All the way down the loose gravel cuts and scrapes at his clothes and skin. After about fifteen feet he lands on his feet at the bottom and immediately tumbles forward to land on his stomach.

  Again the wind is knocked out of him momentarily.

  He knows though that that is the least of his worries. The cave he finds himself in is completely underground and pitch black. His eyes blink rapidly as they try hopelessly to adjust to the darkness.

  Panic begins to rise in him causing his already queasy stomach to lurch and empty its contents all over the cave floor.

  Wiping away the vomit from his lip Tyler yells, “HELP! JOSH! JOSH!”

  His voice echoes in the enclosed space returning several times to reverberate in his ears. “JOSH!”

  “Tyler quit fucking around man! Where are you?”

  His voice seems to come from really far away, but Tyler tells himself that it’s just a trick of the cave. He’s not that far away from me.

  “JOSH! CAN YOU HEAR ME?”

  From up above him Tyler hears the rattle of tiny rocks being dislodged and sliding down towards him. Then he sees the shaft of light shining down from above to partly illuminate the dark cavern. “Tyler what the hell are you doing down there?”

  “Just get me out of here.”

  Josh’s laughter echoes throughout the cave. “Christ man, maybe you should stop drinking.”

  “Will you shut up and help me!”

  “All right, all right,” Josh calls down to him “Stay put and I’ll go see if there’s some rope in the car.” Josh turns to go when he hears Tyler call out. “What now?”

  “Don’t take the light man. It’s fucking creepy down here in the dark.”

  “All right here you baby,” Josh laughs again as he breaks and shakes a phosphorescent glow stick—the type found at raves—and tosses it down the hole to Tyler below. “I’ll be right back.”

  Scampering over to it Tyler lifts it up and shines it around his surroundings. The hole he fell through is larger than he would’ve thought—at least three feet wide.

  In the green hazy glow the cave looks ominous. Calling back up the hole he says, “HURRY MAN!”

  Turning back another spell of dizziness overcomes him momentarily. Then something across the way catches his eye.

  Moving across the cavern he shines the light on what looks like a ruined camp site. His feet kick away several spent glow sticks and he immediately concludes that a rave must have taken place down here.

  Why anyone would want to party at the bottom of a hole though is beyond him. Going to turn away he sees it and freezes.

  Blinking in disbelief he raises the light to reveal wide eyes staring right at him. The lifeless gaze of another man startles him so badly that he drops the light and bolts back to the base of the hole.

  Completely sober now his screams echo throughout the cave while behind him the eyes continue to stare through him.

  In Stillness, the hub of social activity and gossip is Mary’s Café on the corner of Main and Alma. It’s owner—Mary Osborne—is a stout no-nonsense woman in her mid-forties with short auburn hair, dishpan hands, and a wicked tongue that wags with the best gossips in town.

  The Café has been in the Osborne family for four generations; ever since Mary’s great grandparents opened it. Back then it was a mom and pop establishment, these days its run solely by the iron will of Mary who has never married or had children.

  It seems assured that the Café won’t see five generations of Osbornes run it.

  When she’s not in earshot the residents of Stillness refer to Mary as an old maid, though none have the nerve to say anything to her face. One time a teenager thought he’d get wise with her and call her by the name that Stillness’ youth refer to her by—the Virgin Mary.

  He found himself on his ass before he even knew what happened. Flustered, he threatened to sue but never went through with it—probably embarrassed that an ‘old woman’ bested him. Either way, the gossips assured that Mary’s temper made the rounds and no one has given her any trouble since.

  Today the café is jumping, not an unusual occurrence for a Friday afternoon. Standing behind the counter Mary looks out over her place. The decorations are sparse but warming. The counter runs almost the length of the place and seats nine. The kitchen is visible behind the counter through a window opening. Along the walls she has four booths in all while an assortment of tables round out their capacity.

  The whole place has a light blue touch to it; a color that Mary feels gives the place a sense of cleanliness while not being too hard. From the front door, on the left-hand wall hangs a picture of Stillness painted by one of Mary’s ancestors. The year scrawled in the lower right corner is 1700.

  If it hadn’t been one of her mother’s favorite paintings she would’ve tossed it long ago. To her it has always been creepier than anything art. All dark colors and shadows that cast the fledging town in a sinister gloom.

  Around the room she takes in a microcosm of the different groups of Stillness. Seated in a corner booth are the wives of the founding families. Mrs. Angela Lincoln, Victoria Banister, and Olivia Anjou sip their teas and discuss the issues of the day—the issues that their husbands deal with.

  As always in the booth next to them are Mary’s friends, collectively the town gossips. Separately they are Mrs. Harris, Ms. Rohm (separated), and Agnes
Warner the town’s eldest citizen at the ripe age of 91.

  Near the door a group of teenagers giggle and drink their milkshakes oblivious to anyone else in the room. They’ve just returned from Des Moines where all the teenagers of Stillness attend high school. And as usual they take up residence by the door and blow off steam by ignoring and poking fun at everyone in the room.

  Seated at the counter—alone as usual—is the top reporter for the Stillness Sound, forty-seven year old Jacob Castle. His salt and pepper hair carries its usual messed up look with the cowlick at the back while he pours over his battered notebook. Jake is the consummate reporter right down to the tape recorder in his back pocket and the press credentials clipped to his starched white shirt buttoned down with a plain tie hanging around his neck.

  In Jake, Mary has always found a kindred spirit; someone who understands what it feels like to be alone. She has always thought a lot of him, even when he writes an editorial piece that angers the rest of the town. In fact, Mary reckons that those are the times she likes him the most.

  But she could never tell him such, her more than anyone knows the gossip that would go around. Jacob Castle is off-limits in this town. Blackballed—he may as well be a leper.

  In all her years in Stillness she’s heard the stories many times and has always wanted to ask him if they’re all true. But surprisingly has never worked up the courage to do it. Or maybe she just doesn’t want to hurt him.

  Looking out the window she sees the figure of Marie Anjou walking down the sidewalk on her way to the café. She’s dressed in her usual habit of a long dress that reveals little of what’s underneath. Marie plays the part of the reverend’s wife well though Mary remembers a far different girl back in high school.

  The bells above the door jingle as Marie enters and most eyes gravitate to her. By and large Stillness is not big on privacy. “Mary,” Marie says in her smooth cheery way “Is my order ready?”

  Lifting the box of croissants from behind the counter Mary takes them over to the register and rings in the order. “That will be $5.15 Marie.”