Down the Psycho Path

by Mandy White

  A motor roared above the entrance to the hole, and then stopped. He heard men’s voices, then felt the vibration of another, larger vehicle.

  This was it. Dalton’s goose was cooked.

  Fuck it! I’m as good as dead, he thought. Why should I make it easy for them?

  He shoved himself backward into the tunnel, hung by his fingertips for a moment, then let go and dropped into the abyss.

  He didn’t fall far, maybe five or six feet. He landed in what appeared to be another cavern, this one with a sloped floor made of smooth, damp stone. He slid down the incline, unable to find purchase with his hands and feet. He rolled off the edge of the rock into yet another hole, directly underneath the first, and came to rest on what felt like a gravel floor. The sloped rock formed the ceiling of the cavern and the ground beneath was solid enough that Dalton felt safe again.

  All light and sound from the surface was inaccessible at this depth. Even with dogs, they’d never find him down there.

  In the silence, the sound of water dripping was music to Dalton’s ears. He felt along the cave wall in the darkness until he located the source. Water seeped from a crack in the rocks, belying the presence of an underground spring. The feel of the water made him realize how parched he was, and he greedily licked the rocks until his thirst was sated.

  One problem solved, it was time to relieve another. He had been holding his bladder just in case he needed an emergency source of hydration, but now that he’d found some water, he could avoid that unpleasantness and appease Mother Nature. He knelt in a far corner and relieved himself. No matter how objectionable the situation, there were some pleasures that never diminished. Taking a long-awaited piss was one of those pleasures.

  Rested, relieved and re-hydrated, Dalton felt like a new man. He felt safe for the time being, and confident that the searchers would never find him. He had no idea how he was going get out of the hole when it was finally safe to leave, but he would worry about that later. For the moment he was comfortable, and he didn’t mind waiting them out.

  Dalton chuckled and raised both of his middle fingers skyward.

  “Checkmate, motherfuckers! Let’s see you find me now!”

  * * *

  Dalton dozed, for lack of anything else to do. He heard distant vibrations rumbling the earth above from time to time – the search party, no doubt. They would never find him. Even if they found the hole under the stump, they’d never find his hiding place. As he slept, he dreamed.

  Lisa sat in the mud, sobbing. No matter how many times Dalton screamed at her to shut up or smashed her over the head with the rock, she continued to cry, her sobs becoming wails, and then screams. He tried to push her into the water to shut her up, but she just got louder, emitting a high-pitched screech like feedback through a microphone.

  Dalton woke, but the screech continued, alternating with the rumbles he’d hoped would be gone by now. The stone ceiling above his head vibrated and then cracked, sending a shower of pebbles over him.

  Geez, Louise! They were going to dig him out!

  Panicked, he slid further away from the breach in the ceiling. His feet found an opening in the wall, perhaps a secondary tunnel. Maybe there was more to this cave than he’d thought. Crawling deeper into the ground didn’t sound like a good idea, but he was already past the point of no return. If there was one route to the surface, perhaps there was another. The floor of the new tunnel sloped downward, then disappeared altogether.

  What can’t go up, might be able to go down, he thought.

  He squirmed down over the ledge and hung from his elbows for a moment, feet dangling into the void. He had hoped to find footholds; evidence of a bottom; anything but open space. He reconsidered his plan and began to pull himself back up.

  The ceiling of his former sanctuary opened, vomiting a torrent of rocks and earth over the spot he had been not twenty minutes earlier. The screeching and rumbling grew closer by the second. Up was no longer an option.

  Oh well, it worked the first time. Here goes nothing.

  He let his body slide over the edge and then dropped.

  He fell further this time, landing on a bed of wet, loose gravel. At least there was still water down there. The rumbling was faint; it seemed he had escaped once again. Dalton crawled around in the blackness, feeling the dimensions of his new accommodations. The ceiling wasn’t high enough to stand, but he could sit up comfortably. The floor was made up of small pebbles, which filled with water when he scooped out a small impression. He hoped to find a passageway to another cave and possibly an alternate route to the surface but his groping hands found nothing but damp stone walls abutting the gravel floor.

  He was trapped.

  * * *

  Lucy spent most of her days curled into a chair in the hospital lounge, staring at the TV. Sometimes the set was turned on, sometimes not. It made no difference to her.

  Four weeks had passed since that horrible night, when Josh died. The events following her return home that evening were hazy in her mind. She remembered the children, covered in blood and so, so cold. She gave them baths and then put them in her bed and cuddled them to try and warm them up. She remembered her neighbor, Sally, coming in and screaming. Then the police were there, and they were trying to take her babies away from her when all she wanted to do was hold them.

  She was still under heavy sedation, but through daily therapy sessions she had begun to understand what had happened. Her babies were gone. She had killed them by leaving them in the care of a monster.

  And now the police claimed to have lost Dalton. They’d tracked him as far as Vancouver before he vanished without a trace. They believed he had crossed the border into the United States. For all anyone knew, he was already in Mexico.

  Lucy befriended a woman named Morgan, a fellow patient in the psychiatric wing. Morgan claimed to be psychic. Naturally, the doctors dismissed her allegations of ESP as symptoms of Schizophrenia. Lucy thought it couldn’t hurt to ask. The police hadn’t been any help. She would not have peace of mind until Dalton was found and made to answer for his crimes.

  Morgan did a reading using a picture of Dalton from the newspaper. She said that she could see him, but couldn’t pinpoint his location because there were no familiar landmarks near him.

  “It’s confusing,” she told Lucy, “I don’t know how else to describe it, but he is in the folds of the earth.”

  “The what?”

  “I know, it doesn’t make sense to me either, but that’s the impression I keep getting and it’s a strong one. I see him in total darkness. He is alive, but won’t be for long. I see an agonizing death in his future. He is trapped in the folds of the earth.”

  * * *

  WELL DRILLERS GET GRISLY SURPRISE

  A Vancouver Island man who was having a well drilled on his property in preparation to build a house got a shock last Thursday when well drillers discovered a human body. According to Carl Evans of Island Hydrodrill, it was a routine job until the drill struck water. It was then that they got a grisly surprise. Along with the usual geyser of water, mud and gravel that erupted, Evans said, it began raining shredded chunks of what appeared to be fresh meat. At first the drillers thought they had “hit some kind of animal”, but on closer examination it looked like human skin mixed with bits of fabric. Homicide investigators confirmed that the remains of a recently deceased individual had been present underground at the well site. How the alleged killer managed to bury the victim so deeply without leaving evidence on the surface remains a mystery. The body has not been identified, but a forensic investigation is underway. Authorities are hopeful that DNA analysis will lead to an answer as to the victim’s identity. The property owner has postponed drilling of the well until an alternate site is selected.

  Sphere

  Lola almost turned back when she saw the darkened street filled with abandoned buildings. Love for her sister and a desire for a better life for both of them spurred her toward the address given by the woman on the
phone.

  48 Egasuas Ave. There it was. The building didn’t look like much; it appeared deserted, except for the freshly painted white door and intercom. Lola paused before pressing the button. Last chance to turn back.

  Footsteps scuffled in the alley. A thin, hunched figure was approaching.

  Shit. A junkie. Just what I need.

  Lola slid her hand into her purse and felt for the smooth round security of her pepper spray canister. She jabbed the intercom’s call button.

  “Yes?” A woman’s voice crackled over the speaker.

  “Lola Cooper. I called on the phone. Can you let me in please?”

  “Of course, Ms Cooper. One moment please.”

  Lola wanted to scream that she didn’t have a moment. The junkie was only a few yards away and probably seconds from mugging her.

  A buzzer sounded, followed by a metallic CLUNK and the door swung open.

  Lola dashed inside and tried to push the door shut behind her, but it was automated and inched closed at an excruciating pace.

  Fuck. Fuck. He’s going to get me.

  “Hello? she called, “Is anyone there? I need some help here.”

  The junkie was right outside the door. Lola heard his raspy breathing.

  “Wait! Hold that door!” he said.

  Not on your life, asshole, Lola thought. The door clicked shut and she slumped against it with a sigh of relief.

  The intercom buzzed.

  Seriously? He’s a persistent one.

  Lola heard the muffled sound of the woman’s voice over the speaker outside, and then the buzz and CLANK as the door opened for the junkie. Lola backed away from the door, unsure of where to run.

  “Help! Somebody! Help me!”

  Footsteps echoed from somewhere and a door opened. Light spilled from the doorway, around the figure of a woman dressed in white.

  “Ms Cooper. Sorry to keep you waiting. This way please.”

  Lola scurried over to the woman and ducked through the doorway into the safety of the light.

  “Thank you. But we need to hurry, there’s a – ”

  “We just need to wait a moment. There is one more person joining us.” The woman held the door open for the approaching junkie. “Mr. Benson, welcome. Come this way, please.”

  Lola’s cheeks flushed and she ducked her head to hide her embarrassment. It hadn’t occurred to her that she might not be the only one arriving at that time.

  The young man who stepped through the doorway wasn’t more than a kid; maybe twenty years old, but his sunken cheeks and gray complexion told a story of a hard life and probably addiction, as Lola had suspected. He was part of this too? Lola realized it made sense. An offer of a large sum of money to participate in a scientific experiment was bound to attract a lot of desperate people. And nobody was more desperate than an addict.

  “If you’ll both follow me, please,” the woman said.

  Lola almost had to jog to keep up the brisk pace. She focused on the tight blonde bun above the collar of the woman’s lab coat, to avoid meeting the eyes of the junkie.

  The woman stopped at a closed door and entered numbers on a keypad. Another CLUNK and the door opened.

  The glare of fluorescent lighting reflected off of every surface in the room. Everything was white from floor to ceiling, even the furnishings. Small tables with chairs occupied most of the floor space. It was a cross between hospital cafeteria and futuristic nightclub.

  “Please have a seat anywhere you like,” the woman said, “The others will be here shortly, and then we’ll begin. Can I offer you some refreshments?” She pulled a remote from her pocket and pressed a button. A section of the wall slid back, revealing a fully stocked bar, coffee machine, and a glass-front fridge filled with beverages. “Talk amongst yourselves. I’ll be back shortly.”

  Lola knew better than to eat or drink anything offered by strangers who kept hidden lairs in old buildings.

  The addict made his way to the bar and rummaged, probably in hopes of finding something besides liquor. He finally settled for a can of Pepsi.

  He leaned against the wall across the room from Lola, arms folded, scratching himself every few minutes.

  Some time passed and then the door CLUNKED again. The woman in white returned, leading three people: The first was a large bearded man who might have come directly from a taping of Duck Dynasty. He was dressed in camouflage clothing from head to toe, from his boots to his baseball cap. The other two were a couple, judging from the way they squabbled. The woman wore heavy makeup and her hair was teased into a jumble of red on top of her head. Part of a faded blue tattoo peeked over the top of her hot pink tube top.

  “Lola Cooper and Josh Benson, please welcome our newest arrivals: Bradley and Becky Modine and William Worth”

  “Naw, nobody calls me William, sweetheart,” Duck Dynasty drawled. “It’s Billy, but everyone just calls me Bud.”

  “Very well, Bud. Why don’t you and the others get acquainted and help yourself to some refreshments. We are waiting for a few more to arrive, then we’ll begin.”

  Lola wasn’t sure if she wanted to acquaint herself with any of the others. She remained silent and stayed in her seat.

  Becky wandered around the room, searching for something.

  “Where’s the ashtrays?”

  “Sorry, there’s no smoking in this part of the building,” the woman in white told her.

  “What? That’s fucking bullshit! I didn’t sign up for…”

  “Shut up!” Bradley shouted in her face. “Don’t start your shit right now, woman. Why don’t you make yourself useful and go find me a drink.” He planted himself in a chair and put his feet on the table.

  “Don’t mind if I do,” Becky said, making a beeline for the box of Merlot on the counter. She poured a generous glass of wine for herself before opening the fridge to look for beer. She grabbed a can of Coors and gave it an extra shake before tossing it to Brad.

  Lola heard the crack of the can being opened, followed by a string of cuss words as beer foam spewed over Brad’s hand.

  “Fucking bitch! Be more careful next time!”

  “How ‘bout next time you get your own fucking beer?”

  * * *

  An hour later, the room was filled with men and women ranging in age from approximately twenty to forty years. Many stood due to lack of seating.

  A man walked into the room. Like the woman, he wore a lab coat.

  “I am Dr Lawrence Hughes. You have already met my associate, Dr. Kathleen Welch. Thank you all for arriving on time.”

  Junkie Josh raised his hand. “How much longer is this going to take?” Sweat glistened on his forehead.

  “Not long. We will get started with a brief meet-and-greet. After that, we will proceed to the next room, where we will begin the experiment.”

  “And then we can get our money and go?”

  “Unfortunately, not all of you will be accepted for our program. Those who don’t meet the requirements will be paid a thousand dollars each for their time, as a thank you for taking the time to answer our ad. We will need to see identification from all of you. Please have your I.D. ready for Dr. Welch to inspect.”

  Wallets and purses opened and everyone produced identification for the blonde doctor to inspect. Except for one – Billy-Bud Worth, aka Duck Dynasty.

  “What if I don’t show I.D? he said. “Not sure I’m comfortable whippin’ it out for a bunch of strangers.”

  “Then you won’t be accepted for the program. You will leave and collect a thousand dollars, no strings attached.”

  Josh waved his hand. “Hey Doc! I’m out. Got no I.D. I’ll take the thousand and get out of your hair.”

  “That’s too bad. Ok, if you’ll just bear with us – ”

  “Nope. Now. I have to leave now. Give me my fucking grand and let me out of here.”

  Dr. Hughes gave Dr. Welch a nod and she led Josh from the room.

  Bud pondered for a moment, then sighed and pulled out hi
s wallet, which was attached to his belt by a chain. He slapped his driver’s license on the table.

  “When I call your name, you will follow me to the next room. Those of you whose names do not get called, thank you very much for attending. Dr. Welch will see you out and give you your thousand dollar payment.”

  Hughes began calling names, and those called followed him down a hallway. The rest remained in the room, waiting to be escorted out by Dr. Welch.

  The next room was white as well, but with slightly different décor.

  Rows of white psychiatrist-style couches lined the room. On each couch was a clipboard with a document attached and a pen.

  “Take a seat, everyone. The document you see is a release. This is your last chance to change your mind. You can choose not to sign, walk away right now and collect a thousand dollars. If you sign it, you give consent to participate in our ground-breaking sleep study. It will also release our payment to you. As promised, you will receive one million dollars in cash, or electronic bank transfer if you prefer. If you choose bank transfer, please include the email address you use for online banking. The security password will be “payday”. We will transfer the funds and you can see it deposited in your bank account before we proceed.”

  Mutterings rose across the room, along with a few laughs as everyone scoffed at the idea of accepting anything other than cash.

  Bud’s voice boomed over the others, “Yeah, right. Like I’m gonna use any o’ that online shit for money. Y’all know that’s how the hackers git ya. I’ll take mine in cold, hard cash.” He signed the document with an illegible scrawl.

  Hughes leaned over and pointed at a line on the document. “Be sure to add your next of kin, Bud. In case anything happens to you, we need to know who to give your money to. Just a precaution, of course.”