by Matt Hilton
They found the entrance to the next tunnel, again signposted by the stenciled figure nine and watched people trooping past its far end in what amounted to a procession of sorts. Po’s breath caught as Elspeth was led past, her arms gripped by two burly jailers. Tess pressed her left hand against his chest, calming him, halting any spur-of-the-moment reaction. Seconds later Jacob shuffled past, guarded by a bearded, thickset man with a large belly protruding over his belt. The boy’s guard carried a hunting rifle slung over his shoulder. Po’s breath remained caught in his chest. Tess glanced up at him, and would have urged caution, but he was calculating his next move. More figures followed in line, and unless Tess was mistaken they amounted to ten men altogether. Too many to attempt taking on without employing the lethal option: even then, the odds were against them, and besides, they couldn’t risk Elspeth and Jacob getting caught in the crossfire.
The procession continued, and Tess guessed they’d entered a larger space as their footsteps and voices echoed. Po bent to her ear and whispered, ‘They’re in the loading dock. Did you see they had Elspeth and the boy? I wonder where they’re takin’ them?’
‘We should follow,’ Tess suggested. ‘Maybe we’ll get an opportunity to free them without having a pitched battle.’
From somewhere behind them a holler echoed through the tunnels.
Po tensed. He drew his knife.
‘We might have to contend with those stragglers before we think about following anyone,’ he warned.
Tess tasted bile. Was it too much to ask hoping to have found a way out before the men they’d knocked unconscious wakened? She held up the pistol. Using the pistol she could probably threaten silence from them, but she didn’t want to get parted from Po. Not even for a second in those horrible tunnels.
There had been no reaction from the group now walking through the loading bay, for now those in the tunnel had gone unheard. ‘Let’s just follow. Hopefully our chance will come sooner rather than later. Oh, hold it, Po.’
‘Whassup?’
She took her cell phone from her breast pocket. It vibrated almost silently in her grasp. ‘It’s Pinky,’ she said needlessly.
Po craned to check her phone screen while she brought up the message.
I pray you’re still alive, Pinky had texted. Something weird is going on. They planning on building a pyramid?
Tess and Po exchanged puzzled glances.
‘Now isn’t the time for enigmatic riddles,’ Po growled.
What do you mean? Tess replied.
They’re stockpiling aggregate up here.
‘What the hell?’ Po again frowned in puzzlement. But his confusion lasted mere seconds. The rumble of the opening metal shutter made a palpable din in the tunnels.
Tess followed him as Po used the racket to cover their approach to the loading bay. They bypassed what looked like a bank vault door, and then the open doors to antechambers and spilled out into the dock. There was a small fleet of vehicles in the sunken loading bay area, and a group of people stood around waiting for the huge roller shutters to open enough for them to pass beneath. There was enough space under the shutter to show that some other vehicles had arrived outside, and a welcoming party had gathered to meet the procession and their prisoners. As the door rose higher, concertinaing on itself with a shriek of tortured metal and the groan of pneumatics, Tess spotted a figure stood astride the bed of a white pickup truck. It was a man as tall as Po, and perhaps wider across his shoulders. He had oily black hair, brushed straight back from his forehead. His features were long and lean, and he had an aquiline nose and deep-set eyes. If she didn’t know otherwise, she’d say this could be Po’s long-lost brother. No, she decided, as he grinned maliciously when Elspeth was pushed to her knees in front of him, this was not Po’s brother, but perhaps an evil doppelgänger. This was Caleb Moorcock, and it was evident to her now, that he was Jacob’s genetic father.
Po was silent.
He must have been thinking the same thoughts and coming to the same conclusion about Jacob’s heritage.
Elspeth was grabbed again by some of the onlookers and lifted bodily onto the bed of the pickup. Caleb Moorcock sneered down at her, and then stabbed a finger at Jacob. Men as equally complicit in his abuse as his father led the struggling boy towards Caleb. The boy was picked up and passed into his father’s hands. Caleb held him at eye level for a few seconds, then scornfully cast him down by his mother. The big-bellied guard clambered up to join Caleb, and Tess formed the opinion this was another of Eldon Moorcock’s despicable brood. The redneck slapped his hand repeatedly on the roof of the cab, and the pickup started a slow turn, the crowd dispersing around it. As the truck found its path clear it began pulling away, joined by the other cars and trucks, and those on foot scrambled to join the now engorged procession.
Tess clutched Po’s forearm, and could feel how tense he was.
‘I don’t believe that Jacob is yours,’ she said gently.
‘I see that now,’ he agreed, ‘but it doesn’t change a damn thing.’
‘I never expected it to.’
‘They’re a mother and child in danger.’
‘Then let’s go rescue them, shall we?’ she said.
‘Laissez les bon temps rouler,’ he said and flashed a humorless smile.
THIRTY-SEVEN
The procession halted at the end of the parade ground closest to the Moorcock family homes. There the stained concrete gave way to tilled earth, flower gardens, and to the west an established orchard grove. Taken as a snapshot image, the gardens and houses would not look out of place several miles away in the town of Muller Falls, or in any other small American town for that matter. The one thing that hinted at a sinister undertone to the community was in a deep trench that ran cater-corner to the parade ground. This trench was once part of the subterranean tunnel network but evidently it had collapsed years ago, and subsequently only partially excavated. A pile of soil and broken concrete stood at the lip of the trench, its volume added to in the past minutes by a group of women and boys drafted in to assist with the manual unloading of a lorry. They shoveled stones the size of grapefruits off the truck and onto the growing pile. This Tess assumed must be the pyramid that Pinky referenced in his text.
There was a sense of carnival about the inhabitants of the commune. Other residents had spilled from their homes to join the crowd gathering on the parade ground to watch. Some laughed, others talked excitedly, and there was plenty of friendly pushing and jostling among the onlookers as the pickup carrying Elspeth and Jacob drew to a halt. Other people kept their heads down and their opinion about the proceedings to themselves: not everyone here was a crazed and murderous minion of their self-proclaimed king. Throughout the commune other residents headed to join the throng at the edge of the trench, probably summoned to bear witness. Tess even spotted an old man being pushed towards the crowd in a wheelchair. The hunt for Po was still underway: she could hear the baying of hounds emanating from the woods, and also the distant rumble of vehicles over the ill-maintained roads. She wondered if the scouting party that had followed them to the caves had since joined the throng here or if they were still seeking their quarry. The trio knocked unconscious in the tunnels would surely have recovered by now and be on their way to report the confrontation. Strangely, Tess and Po were given some leeway to sneak closer because of the excitement factor and the movement of so many people all heading in the same direction: at a distance they’d be mistaken for other members of the commune.
As they neared the procession, Po wavered slightly and Tess came to halt.
‘We should split up,’ he whispered.
‘How many times have I to say it? There’s no way we’re splitting up.’
‘If one of us is captured, at least the other has a chance at—’
‘We are not splitting up, Po. We do this together or not at all.’
She knew exactly why he wanted to split up. It was so he could send her to some relatively safe place while he risked
his backside to save Elspeth and Jacob. His old-fashioned chivalrous manners could be endearing at times, but infuriating at others. How many times must she prove to him that she was no shrinking violet?
‘Besides,’ she added, ‘Pinky is out there someplace. He’s our backup if we are captured.’
‘I know. I only—’
‘You only want to protect me. I know. I get that, Po. But I don’t need to be wrapped in cotton wool when I can look after myself.’ She raised the pistol. ‘And I have this.’
A number of people in the crowd carried hunting rifles, and had knives on their belts, but the majority was unarmed. It was primarily the henchmen surrounding Caleb and his big-bellied brother that carried assault rifles and pistols. Maybe they should have sought that armory room Po had earlier discovered and picked up some extra firepower. Armed only with his knife, there was little possibility he could convince Elspeth and Jacob’s captors to release them; at least the presence of her pistol was more persuasive.
‘It just feels wrong risking your life for the sake of Elspeth’s when … well, you know, she used to be my girl. Tess, you mean more to me than a hundred of her.’
‘We’re here mostly for the boy,’ she reminded him. ‘But the boy needs his mom, too, and I fully intend getting them both out of this mess.’
‘What d’you suppose is going on?’
‘Caleb wants to make an exhibition out of punishing Elspeth. The Moorcocks want to send a clear message to all of their subjects. Witness what becomes of anyone who dares disobey our rules!’
‘Look.’
The front door to the largest of the houses had opened. A huge, older man with a drooping yellow mustache paused at the threshold a moment, his head thrown back and his hands on his hips. He surveyed the scene before him. Then he nodded grandiosely and stepped outside, to follow a path through the garden towards the edge of the trench. Another man followed him, not as tall as Caleb, nor as fat as the other man on the pickup truck, but enough alike them both to be the third brother. He walked, eyes downcast, muttering something inaudible to his father.
Eldon Moorcock moved through the crowd, his subjects parting for him. He nodded at them, pompous and regal.
‘What a sanctimonious piece of shit he looks,’ Po decided. ‘D’you think Eldon intends presiding over things? Who does he think he is: judge, jury and executioner?’
‘I doubt he’ll be the latter. Does he look the type to get his hands dirty when he has others to do it for him?’
‘Maybe I shouldn’t have used that word … executioner.’ Po chewed down on his bottom lip. ‘Surely they won’t go as far as murdering Elspeth?’
‘Elspeth believed it was a possibility,’ Tess said, recalling their conversation back at Po’s ranch when she’d begged Tess not to involve the police.
‘You don’t think she was being overly dramatic?’
Tess visualized the cigarette burns on Elspeth’s thighs, and imagined the agony of those inflicted on her breasts; a man capable of perpetrating that kind of torture was capable of anything. ‘If anything, she downplayed the suffering she endured before. If Caleb wants to put on a show, perhaps there’s no line he won’t cross. What was it you said in French a minute ago, Po: let the good times roll? Well, I prefer “finissons cette merde”. That’s right: Let’s end this shit.’
THIRTY-EIGHT
It was almost an out of body experience for Elspeth as she observed her husband’s performance. Caleb stood on the back of the pickup, his jaw set and his nose in the air, as if he was a Roman Emperor astride a war chariot. He even clenched his fists at his hips, striking the most imperious stance he could. Even as his father approached, he didn’t relax his pose, drinking in the atmosphere as the residents of their community clamored for a closer look at his captives. He appeared mighty pleased with how quickly he’d brought his wayward wife to heel, despite the fact he owed Randolph for her recapture. But Randy looked content for Caleb to take the accolades, knowing well his eldest brother owed him big time.
Caleb looked to their father as Eldon strode up to the pickup. He didn’t defer to Eldon’s authority.
The older man peered over the side of the flatbed, staring into Elspeth’s face. He sneered, and then spat a wad of phlegm at her. It hung in her hair. She made no attempt at brushing it aside; she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing her disgust. In fact she barely responded to anything any of her abusers did or said anymore, because nothing would help except to make her more pathetic in their eyes. She only cared about Jacob and ensuring her son survived unharmed. Already Caleb had tried demeaning her, calling her the most horrible names, and casting aspersions on her alleged sexual proclivities with all and sundry. He had twisted and pinched her flesh and yanked on her hair so tight there were still long strands of it caught between his fingers. She took the abuse, and when she could, she reached out a comforting hand to touch Jacob. Her son sat with his back pressed into the corner of the bed, against the pickup’s cab, his head down. He had no wish to witness his mother’s further debasement.
The throng was noisy, but fell silent as Caleb threw his arms aloft. Some people had carried flashlights or lanterns from home, but the headlights of the vehicles in the procession amply lit up that end of the parade square. From her prone position on the truck’s bed, Elspeth watched the enlarged shadows of people being cast upward against the trees and on her husband. Caleb’s features were momentarily obscured, except for his eyes: reflecting an errant beam they gleamed in the darkness like embers. Elspeth shuddered at the depth of evil within them.
‘All of you here know Elspeth. You know her as a neighbor, a friend, the mother of Jacob, mostly you know her as my wife.’ Caleb jutted out his chin and curled back his top lip at the final description of her. ‘What you might not know is how willful and obstructive a wife she is. Look at her—’
Without warning Elspeth was grabbed and hauled to her feet by Caleb and Randolph. Randy held her up, while Caleb stabbed a finger at her in emphasis. ‘Look at the way she wears her clothes.’ Her skirt was still pulled up between her knees and tucked into her waistband. ‘Who does Elspeth think she is?’ Caleb posed the question to the crowd. ‘I’ll tell you. She doesn’t believe in obeying her husband’s wishes any more, just look, she thinks she now wears the pants in our relationship.’
Some of her neighbors snickered in laughter at Caleb’s summation. Others bent their necks, avoiding meeting her eyes.
‘She doesn’t,’ Caleb asserted.
He reached and grasped her skirt, yanked the bunched material loose and snapped down his arm. Elspeth staggered but Randy grabbed her hair and craned her head backwards. Her fists trembled at her sides. Elspeth bit down on her bottom lip and endured.
‘Our community was established on a set of rules,’ Caleb reminded the crowd, ‘and we all agreed to abide by them. One of those rules was that a wife must serve her husband without question.’ Caleb searched the crowd, his gaze going from one woman to the next. ‘Is there a wife among you who does not serve their master? You Georgia, do you do as Peter asks, or do you resist him? Mary, when Henry says “jump”, do you ask “how high”? I bet you do. Oh, how I wish my wife was as obedient as y’all are. Elspeth has betrayed me!’ Caleb shook his head in mock regret. ‘She ran away and took my son with her. My son. And she tried to poison him with lies and took him to a man she pretended was his father. She tried turning Jacob against me. Is this crime against me forgivable?’
‘Don’t forget that the whore struck down Ellie-May,’ Eldon suddenly barked. ‘She should be struck down the way she struck down your mother.’
A murmur went through the crowd. Ellie-May commanded respect, but it was entirely through fear. Elspeth doubted there was a woman in that crowd who wouldn’t like to have struck the harridan herself, yet – for appearances sake – they all oohed and aahed and took pity on the vicious old bitch. Elspeth wondered why she’d ever cared for her friends and neighbors when each and every one of them would se
ll her out to protect their own hides. Hot tears, heavy and tremulous, burned tracks down her cheeks.
‘Mom was only protecting me.’ Jacob’s voice was barely audible.
Caleb lurched, grasped the boy by his shoulders and dragged him to his feet. He shook Jacob, emphasizing his point. ‘Your mother beat your poor defenseless grandma. What kind of monster does that?’
‘Grandma was beating me and Mom stopped her.’
Caleb shook his head in denial. Besides, it didn’t matter. His mother wasn’t the one on trial here, only his wife. He kicked out without warning, digging his boot sharply into Elspeth’s thigh. If Randy hadn’t held her up she would’ve collapsed. She resisted, but couldn’t halt emitting a moan; the pain was deep within her muscle and grew each second.
Eldon reached for her over the edge of the pickup. Had he gotten a hold he might have dragged her to the ground and stamped her into the dust. Randolph kept her standing just out of reach of Eldon’s grasping fingertips. Caleb bent at his waist, shoving Jacob aside to regard his father. ‘Let me punish her as I see fit,’ he said, and his words held no suggestion of request.
Eldon glanced at the trench, and then nodded sharply. He threw up his hands, commanding an audience.
‘Elspeth has wronged us all,’ he announced, ‘and therefore all here should be allowed to punish her. But Caleb is right. She has wronged him more than any other; he should be the one to pronounce her punishment.’
