by Brian Bakos
I've heard that the border with Mexico is easy to slip across, especially if you're leaving the U.S. instead of trying to break in. I'll just wander through Mexico, picking up the language, blending in, stealing whatever I need. Maybe I can get some kind of no-questions-asked job. Next thing you know, I'll be kicking a soccer ball on the Rio beaches.
So, my plan is to ride as far as Morton will take me, then keep heading south any way I can. I light a cigarette and blow a big smoke ring into the night air. Tobacco has never tasted better; my world has never been so bright. I feel wonderful!
And I feel like a rat, too. Cyndy is still back there, held captive by those terrible Ponge, with nobody on her side but some dug-up weirdo professor. And maybe not even him.
Sure Rackenfauz has a score to settle with Albert Grech, but that doesn't mean he is Cyndy's friend. Maybe he plans to use her as an instrument of his revenge, and to heck if she gets hurt.
Is that why he was so anxious to get rid of me, so he could have a free hand?
That must be it - he's going to make some kind of deal with Gregory Ponge. What will happen to Cyndy then? She knows too much, and will have to be rubbed out. They'll bury her alive, just like they planned to do to me! Rackenfauz is capable of anything. He'd invented those trees, hadn't he? And I bought into his "I'm not evil" routine like a total idiot!
Why did she have to be so mean and stuck up? If she acted nice, people would be more willing to help her. But oh no, she's got to be Miss Nasty about everything. I am not an ignorant little dirtball!
Well, maybe I am ... but she didn't have to say so.
I cross the road to the northbound side and sit down on the gravel shoulder - just to rest a minute before I continue on to the restaurant. I light another cigarette.
But how am I supposed take her along? Somebody tell me that. After a short time she'd get tired of being on the run and would start blaming me for any problems. How can I possibly know what might happen on the road? I'm not a luxury tour guide.
Well ... maybe Rackenfauz wasn't lying. Maybe he's okay, but how can I know? I only know one fact. Horrible things are going to happen back there, very soon, and Cyndy needs to be far away when they do. Even Poochie knew it was wrong to leave like this.
***
A car pulls up alongside me.
"Hey, Billy," Morton calls out. "What gives?"
I toss away the cigarette.
"I don't know, Morton."
"You want to go back, don't you?" he says.
I nod.
"I figured as much," Morton says. "Thought I'd leave you here a while to think it over by yourself. Come on, hop in."
I climb into the front seat, reluctantly, as if I'm entering a hearse for an express trip to the cemetery. The door clunks shut like a dead body drawer at the morgue. The back seat is empty.
"Where're your nephews?" I ask.
Morton jerks a thumb toward the restaurant.
"Back there, playing video games. They can hop a bus or call Sister for a ride." He chuckles. "Serves them right for sneaking in the beer."
He hands me a paper bag. "I thought you might be hungry."
Inside are two huge cheeseburgers with the works, and a big order of fries. My heart leaps like I've just opened a sack full of diamonds.
Morton points to a plastic bottle wedged into the cup holder. "There's some lemonade to wash it down."
"Thanks!"
He starts driving while I inhale the food. These aren't just humble cheeseburgers but manna from heaven, like they talked about in that Bible class they made me attend at the children's home. Ordinarily, I don't care much for veggies on my burger, but I chomp down every bit of them now.
I am in paradise for a few minutes. But by the time I reach the final bites, I have become aware of my earthly surroundings again.
Morton is looking at me. His face in the dim glow of the dashboard lights wears the saddest expression I have ever seen. Sadness washes over me as well. I gulp down the last of the lemonade.
"Do you want to talk about ... anything?" Morton asks.
Of course, I want to spill my guts. I want Morton to take care of everything like the big brother I never had. But would he even believe me? Until a few weeks ago, I wouldn't have believed such a horror story myself. He'd think I was half nuts, and he'd try to help me somehow. But that would only make things worse.
Morton is just too nice to understand how evil the world can be. I don't want him dragged into this lousy mess. He's already admitted to drinking and driving troubles with the law. Anything else - marijuana possession, a shoplifting bust?
He couldn't have done anything really serious, but enough for Judge Gulp to tear him apart if he got involved in my problems.
"No, Morton, I don't want to talk," I say. "All I can tell you is that I have an important matter to settle before I can leave again."
"Okay, Billy."
He flicks on the radio.
28: Snake Attack
After a long silent drive, we reach the last intersection before the Grech place.
"Better let me out here," I say. "You don't want anybody to see your car."
Morton pulls over. Then he reaches into his pocket and takes out some money.
"It's all I've got right now, but I want you to have it," he says.
"Morton, no - "
"Just take it, all right?"
"Okay, thanks."
I stuff the bills into my pocket. Morton hands over a slip of paper.
"Here's my phone number," he says. "Call me any time."
I nod and take the paper. I'm on the verge of tears and can't say anything more.
"So long, Billy. Good luck."
I get out of the car.
"You know, I cruise around a lot," Morton says. "Not much else to do in this area. So, maybe I'll see you again."
"Thanks, Morton, for everything."
The car disappears. I study the paper carefully, memorizing the phone number, then I tear it into little pieces and toss them into the ditch.
I trudge alone up the road, dragging my crushed spirit along behind me like a sack of trash. The sun is rising. This could be the one morning when the Grech roll out of bed early, so I break into a jog, like a condemned prisoner hurrying to the gas chamber.
As I pass the raspberry bushes, the Grech house comes into full, ugly view. The devil dog stares at me from the orchard, as if he is carved from stone. His eyes gleam like silver knife blades.
I drag myself up the stairs to my attic room - my death row cell. The grimy window holds back the sunrise, and the rafters press down on me like prison bars. I flop down on the lumpy bed, completely depressed and exhausted.
What next?
Somehow I'll get through this day, then I'll talk to Cyndy tonight and offer to take her on my next escape. If I can escape again. If I haven't already used up my lifetime supply of luck.
I can't think straight anymore, I simply have to rest for a while. Despair squashes me down like the boot heel of some giant ogre. I can scarcely breathe under the weight. I sink off to sleep and an immediate trip into Nightmare Land.
I dream of a huge, poisonous snake thrashing around in the lower stories of the Grech mausoleum. The thing approaches the stairs and begins slithering up. It glistens in the dim morning light, its scales are covered in slime. A rotten stink of evil moves along with it.
Closer and closer it comes, darting its tongue out, probing for a victim. Its thick, ropy body throbs as it slides up the stairs, making a harsh, rasping sound. It nudges open my door and slithers in. Yellow eyes stab at me from out of its massive triangle head.
Cold sweat bursts from every pore as my body goes rigid with terror. I fight to wake up and am almost there when something presses hard against my face.
I inhale a paralyzing chemical odor. I try to move, but strong hands pin me down.
"Tape him up!" a distant voice commands.
29: Underground
When I regain
consciousness, the Grech are carrying me out the side door. My wrists and ankles are bound with heavy tape, and my arms are pinned down with the same stuff. I try to cry out, but Amitha slaps more tape over my mouth.
Panic squeezes me in a vise. I struggle to break free.
"Stop that," Albert hisses, "or I'll strangle you right now."
"You should have used more of that liquid stuff," Amitha says. "Put him under good."
"Shut up, woman!" Albert snaps. "I've had enough of your complaining."
We are outside now, heading for the orchard. Angry barking charges toward us across the lawn. Poochie! The brave little mutt tears at Albert's pant leg.
"Get away!" Albert howls.
He almost drops me as he fights with the dog. For a mad instant I think I might actually break free, but Albert regains his hold. Then he sends Poochie flying with a savage kick.
The dog limps off toward Brazil Road, yelping with pain. My last hope disappears with him.
The barbed wire gate swings open and we pass into the orchard. The thick, sickening odor of the trees oozes into my lungs like motor oil, nearly cutting off what little air I still have. The devil dog comes to investigate with its dead, silver eyes.
"Outta the way!" Albert snarls.
The beast pulls back, teeth bared.
We come to the storm cellar doors. Marnie starts unlocking them.
"Hurry up," Albert says, "before somebody spots us."
"I'm working fast as I can!" Marnie says as she fumbles with the locks and chains.
Finally she gets the doors open. They groan on their hinges like the gates of hell being pulled back.
"That's good enough, Marnie," Albert says. "You can go back to the house now."
"No way!" Marnie says. "Ain't I the one who seen him sneaking around? Didn't I warn you he'd run? I got every right to see what's gonna happen to him."
"Stay and watch, then," Albert says.
They drag me down a short stairway and toss me on the ground. An overhead light flicks on. We are in a sort of little dirt basement. In the back of the left wall, the dark mouth of a tunnel gapes open. The stench of death hangs there.
"The little creep is heavier than he looks." Albert wipes his bald head with a handkerchief. "You shouldn't have fattened him up so much, Marnie."
Marnie snorts. By the glow of the single light bulb her face shows its full hard cruelty. With the toe of his boot Albert nudges the tracking device on my ankle. It pops open.
"So, you figured this out, eh?" he says.
Amitha plants her hands on her hips.
"You were a fool to trust him, Albert," she says. "Letting him run around unsupervised like that. What was going through that fat head of yours?"
"Didn't I tell you he'd cause problems?" Marnie says.
"Okay!" Albert throws up his hands. "No real harm done. We just have to plant him a little earlier, that's all."
He nudges me with his foot. "And I did find out a few things about the Ponge, didn't I, boy?"
He walks back to the tunnel entrance and turns on a flashlight. The beam vanishes when it enters the tunnel, as if a knife has sliced it off. My new home lurks inside there. I fight against my bonds. My terrified mind races for an escape strategy. I wish I could break free, I wish I could die right now and get it over with, I wish ...
"Struggling won't do you no good," Marnie says with obvious pleasure.
Albert walks back toward me. "Well, I guess we may as well get it done."
I try to cry out, but only a strangled gurgle makes it past the tape. Outside, the devil dog begins a murderous barking rampage.
"What the hell?" Albert says.
He moves toward the stairs. The growls and barks become deafening, as if a werewolf is on the other side of the doors.
"Stay outta sight, you two," Albert says, "and don't let that kid act up. I'll see what's going on out there."
Then a gun shot rings out!
The barking abruptly stops. Albert freezes, and wild hope flames in my heart. All eyes turn toward the entrance. The doors bang open, and Albert backs away from them.
30: A Noteworthy Arrival
Gregory Ponge walks down the steps.
"Hello, neighbors!" he says cheerfully.
In one hand he grasps a pistol. In the other he holds the steel pipe handle from the feeding tank. His eyes are sunk in, and wispy gray hair frames his wrinkled face. His forehead is high and bald; the radar set inside has tracked its target to its source.
"W-w-what's going on?" Albert cries.
Despite my desperate situation, I feel a burst of joy at his terror.
"Just thought I'd pay a friendly visit," Ponge says.
"W-with a gun?" Albert says, cringing away.
Ponge glances toward me, then back to Albert.
"Looks like a person needs a gun around here. He might come to a sticky end otherwise."
Albert licks his lips. "I can explain - "
"You should watch your dogs," Ponge interrupts. "One of them charged over to my place, made quite a stir. Then, when I came to investigate, the other one tried to attack me. I had to use my little persuader."
He holds up the pistol, grinning.
"That's all right," Albert says. "The lousy dog was just a nuisance, anyway."
Poochie sounded the alarm. Bless that little mutt! So, what about Cyndy - what about Rackenfauz?
"You've come for the oranges, haven't you?" Albert says.
Ponge grunts.
"Yes, I can see you've been eating them," Albert says. "I know all about them oranges ... I know a lot of things, I ... I ..."
Ponge says nothing. I pray that he will gun Albert down. Just let me live long enough to see that!
"W-we can make a deal," Albert says. "I'll share the crop with you."
"Maybe I'll just take it all," Ponge says. "Can't see why I need you."
"But the real power's in the sap!" Albert's voice cracks. "I know how to process the sap."
Ponge turns this over in his radar dome.
"Stands to reason you'd know more about them trees than I do," he says.
"Yes, right. I'll teach you everything," Albert says. "We can be partners."
I can't take my eyes off the steel pipe. If only I could get my hands on that! Ponge looks down at me, and a cruel smile spreads across his face.
"Cut the boy loose," he says.
"You ain't thinking of including him in the deal?" Albert says. "He's only fertilizer. He's got to go into the tunnel."
"Do as you're told!" Ponge orders.
Albert reaches into his pocket. Ponge aims the gun at his head.
"Hold it!"
"I'm just getting my jack knife," Albert says.
"Let one of the women do it," Ponge says.
Amitha reaches into Albert's pocket and withdraws the jack knife. Then she kneels down beside me and begins hacking through the tape. The knife is dull, and her progress is slow. Ponge observes, grinning. Occasionally he glances up the stairs or down at his wrist watch.
Finally Amitha finishes freeing my arms and legs. I reach up my numb hands and rip the tape off my mouth. It feels as if half my face has come off, but I'm free! By way of thanks, I kick Amitha as hard as I could.
"You rat!" she shrieks.
I kick her again.
Ponge laughs. "Okay, against the back wall everyone."
I retreat to the back, shoving Amitha ahead of me. I take a place as far away from her and the others as possible. Fear vibrates in the dank air, coming off those three terrible people in waves. But I feel joyous, almost.
"So, how about a deal, Mr. Ponge?" Albert says.
"Shut up!" Ponge says. "I'll give you my answer soon."
Albert shuts up. Several minutes pass.
***
Then a shadow darkens the entrance ...
"Hello, Judge," Ponge says, "glad you could make it."
"Good morning, Gregory."
Judge Gulp picks his way ca
refully down the steps. "I came the minute Sally called."
He brushes himself off. Even this early in the morning he wears his pin striped suit.
"Hello everybody!" he calls, waving toward the back wall, as if he's greeting us at a church picnic.
"Hello, Judge," Albert says. "We were just discussing a deal for the orange trees. There's a place for you in it, too, of course."
"Is that so?" Gulp says.
"Don't listen to him, Judge!" Marnie shouts. "He'll betray you."
Albert shoots her a murderous glance. "Shut up, Marnie!"
"No I won't!" Marnie cries. "You're a double crosser and you know it."
I could kiss the old hag. A desperate hope flares in my heart that Ponge might let me go - but in my head, I can't believe it. My present choices are pretty grim, either flee into the tunnel or charge for the doors and get shot.
"Sorry you got dragged into this, Billy," Gulp says, "but you would have come to a bad end one way or another."
Oh, if I could just take him with me!
The noise of a violent scuffle comes from outside - shouts and punches. Gulp bolts up the steps with more speed than you'd expect from such an old guy. Then a strangled scream.
"Cyndy!" I start forward.
"Stay there." Ponge aims the gun at me.
Gulp backs down the steps, holding onto Cyndy's legs. Sally Ponge follows, gripping Cyndy's upper body. Cyndy is all winded and purple-faced, her beautiful hair frazzled wild. Grief tears through me.
"Thanks, Judge," Mrs. Ponge says, "I can handle her myself now."
Sally Ponge has the familiar blown-out look of an orange addict. She's plenty strong, though, like the other addicts, and she hold Cyndy in a hammer lock.
"What's she doing here?" Ponge says.
"I caught her sneaking over from the tool shed," Sally replies.
She yanks Cyndy's arm hard. Cyndy winces with pain, and my heart starts to break. Our eyes meet.
"Billy - !" she cries, but Mrs. Ponge silences her with another arm wrench.
"Thought you were pretty clever, eh?" Mrs. Ponge says. "Throw me off the track."
Cyndy says nothing, trying bravely to keep from screaming.
"Let her go," I say. "You've got me."
Gregory Ponge finds this amusing, judging by his twisted little smile. He waves his pistol.
"Come here, boy," he says.
I take a few steps toward him.
"Hold it right there," Ponge says.
He tosses the pipe my direction. It thuds by my feet.
Under the watchful eye of the gun barrel, I slowly pick up the weapon. It feels powerful and righteous in my hand.
