by JJ Lamb
“You think they cut up Rhonda while she was still alive. That she was the one you heard screaming?”
She squeezed his hand and nodded.
Was it her fear I smelled in that horrible place, or was it my own?
“Rhonda Jenkins shouldn’t have been down there,” Harry said. “Maybe she couldn’t see, “but she wasn’t ill … she certainly wasn’t dying. Besides, screams are not what you usually hear at an autopsy.”
“When Ethan … it must have been Ethan, was coming into the lab, and there was no place to hide, I forced my body through a small floor-level opening in the wall. Maybe it was an opening to an old mine.”
“Hey, you were lucky you found any hiding place at all.”
“Yeah, but when Ethan left the lab, I tried to back myself out and got jammed in there. It was like being buried alive.”
* * *
Gina sat at the tiny dining room table, her hands encircling a cup of hot mint tea. She breathed in the warm steamy mist. It was reassuring to hear Harry moving around in the shower. She’d practically singed herself trying to warm up before him with the shower’s hot water. Now, she was feeling better. But she still was racked with sudden chills that shook her from head to toe.
She visualized all the containers of floating brains lined up on shelf after shelf along every wall. It was the perfect setting for a horror flick about a mad scientist, but certainly not something you ever wanted to see in real life.
When Harry came in from the bathroom, he was wearing a Nautilus warm-up suit and running sneakers. His hair was still wet and it glistened with tight, black curls that clung to his head. He pulled a chair close to her, sat down, and kissed the palm of her hand.
“Hey, Ms. Mazzio. Why don’t we get out of here and drive up to Virginia City, grab some dinner, and just hang out? Sort of leave this place behind to simmer in its own polluted juices.”
“It’s kind of late, isn’t it?”
She looked into his soft eyes; saw nothing but trust. He believed in her so completely. She was glad she’d told him everything that had happened.
Well, almost everything.
Maybe he was right. Just do something real, something normal.
“Come on, babe. Let’s just do it, get away from this place for a while.”
Once she made up her mind to go she was up like a shot; it took her only five minutes to slip into jeans, sweat shirt, add a touch of makeup, and grab a jacket.
* * *
It was dark, but lights dotted the hills when they climbed through the pass to Virginia City. When they entered the town’s main area, old-time saloons lined both sides of the street. Sounds of rinky-dink piano music floated through the air and Gina was having fun walking on the boardwalk—it felt quaint, like she was the star of an old Western movie.
They’d parked the Jeep down a ways from a twentieth-century Denny’s-style restaurant. Gina didn’t think the place brought any visions of what the original mining town would have looked like in the 1800s—but it was food and she was suddenly ravenous.
Once inside the restaurant, they slid into a booth; a waitress was immediately at the table with the menus. She was somewhere in her fifties, with a bright smile; it was obvious her feet were killing her.
“Hi, there. Welcome to VC.”
“Been a long day?” Gina said.
“Bet your boots on that.” She shifted from one foot to another. “It’ll be this way until the snow makes it too tough for tourists to get through the pass to Sun Mountain.” She took a moment to stretch her neck from side to side. “You folks staying in town?”
“No,” Harry said. “We’re nurses. We work at the Comstock Medical Facility, about ten miles down the road.”
“Don’t know that place … mmmm; wait a minute now … is that the place near all those big boulders, way back in the hills?”
“That’s the place,” Gina said.
“Yeah, I remember them bringing in those rocks. Seems to me that was two or three years ago. Rocks came in sections, as I recall. Folks around here thought it was kind of weird, putting rocks together like that. especially since we’re not all that shy of rocks around here in the first place. But we don’t pay much attention to outsiders if they don’t bring business to the town. If you get my meaning.”
“Why do you think they brought them in?” Harry said, laughing.
“Only thing we could figure, it had to do with all the empty mines in the area.” The waitress shifted feet again. “The old timers said that piece of land was riddled with shafts going off in all directions. Maybe they wanted the rocks so they could seal off some of them.”
Gina was up to her neck with rocks and Comstock. She read the name on the waitress’ pin. “Well, Rosa, I think I’ll have a nice thick hamburger with everything you can think of jammed inside. Also, I’ll have a Caesar salad instead of French fries.” She handed the menu back.
“Cost you two bucks extra for the salad.”
“Done deal.”
“I’ll have the same,” Harry said, “except I’ll take the fries.” He laughed. “Two bucks is two bucks.”
“Coming right up.” The waitress limped a few steps before she caught herself and straightened out her gait.
“Rosa is right about the mines,” he said. “During my lunch break I wandered around out back and there were plenty of signs of old mining activity.”
“Let’s forget the mines.” Gina reached across the table and squeezed Harry’s hand. “Thank you for getting me out of that place, even if it’s only for a couple of hours.”
“I know my gal.” He scooted around to sit next to her; leaned over, and kissed her on the neck. “Something still on your mind, doll?”
She shook her head.
“Hey, it’s me. You can tell me anything.”
“No, no, Harry. I just don’t like the job or any of the personnel who work there. I wish we’d never come.”
“I feel exactly the same way.” He started toying with the silverware, moving a fork back and forth. “I’ve taken on many assignments over the years… some have been boring, some really challenging, but never one that felt … shady.” Harry watched the waitress step their way with their dinners.
“Yeah, that’s the right word. Shady,” Gina said.
“Are you up for finding out what it is?”
She was silent for a long moment. “You know I’d like to just run away. But I’m willing to stay a little longer and see how it plays out.”
Harry took her hand and squeezed it.
Rosa placed the food in front of them, pulled a big bottle of catsup out of her pocket and set it on the table.
“Thank you, Rosa,” Harry said. “Can’t eat fries without the red stuff.” He gave her a big smile.
* * *
Dinner had been great. They’d laughed a lot and there was nothing like a hamburger to make things feel right again.
They were walking down the boardwalk over the rickety wooden planks when Harry pulled her toward the doorway of a bar called The Silver Stope.
“Let’s get a nightcap before we head back.”
“Hey you!” Gina said, “we’ve got to get up early tomorrow. Maybe we ought to leave now.”
“Oh, come on. A drink will relax us both.” Harry pulled her inside. They slid up onto bar stools and Harry put some bills on the counter.
The place was dimly lit; long split logs with a layer of rocks jammed behind covered both the ceiling and the walls. It immediately gave her a bad feeling, reminding her of the mine she’d been in with Harry.
A white-haired guy was hunched over an ancient upright piano playing some Scott Joplin. The counter top was covered with Lucite, but underneath, perfectly aligned, were silver dollars from one end to the other.
“Man, that’s something else,” Gina said. “Must have invested a load to get this fantastic bar top.”
The bartender, a grizzled man with large square shoulders laughed. “Nah, tourists donated their dollars just to g
et their name planted on a bar top in Virginia City.” The man had a cynical smirk on his face. “Ain’t anything dumber than a tourist.”
The other customers laughed out loud.
“Yep, you got it … nothing dumber than a tourist,” said the man at the end of the bar, “…’ceptin’ another tourist.”
The four other customers really thought that was something. Gina and Harry were the only ones not laughing.
“What’ll you two have to drink?” The man behind the bar put two cocktail napkins in front of them. “And we don’t make Grasshoppers or Brandy Alexanders in this establishment.”
Gina was uncomfortable. She was the only woman in the place and none of the men were nice, or even looked clean. “Harry, it’s really late. I think we should go.”
“We’ll have two Stolies, straight up.”
Gina squeezed his thigh.
The man at the end of the bar ambled down and slid onto the stool next to Gina. “Well, now, it looks like we have a couple of sports here. Hey, man, how about buying a round for the rest of us?”
Harry looked the guy straight in the eyes. “Not me. Maybe you can hit on the next dumb tourist who wanders in here.”
The man looked up at the ceiling, spoke through the side of his mouth, “Now you sound darn-right unfriendly, dude.”
Harry was riled. Gina could tell by his right eyebrow working its way up to his forehead; that didn’t happen very often.
He said, “The friendly thing to do would be to buy a couple of strangers a drink.” Harry ended his comment with a big, unnatural smile.
The bartender set the shots in front of them. Gina and Harry reached in unison and downed the drinks in one gulp. Gina thought her head would burst, but she pretended like she drank straight vodka every day.
The room was deadly silent. Even the piano player seemed to lose his way on the keys.
“Hit us again,” Harry said.
The bartender lifted the bills from the bar. “You ain’t got enough here to cover it.”
Staring straight ahead Harry pulled more bills from his pocket and plunked them on the bar. “That cover it?”
The bartender poured two more vodka shots.
Harry said to Gina, “What do you say we drink up and blow this fire trap, doll?”
“Let’s do it.”
Gina didn’t recognize either of their voices. They sounded like people from a B movie. Before she could move, the man next to her downed her drink and roughly grabbed onto her breast.
Gina was stunned at first, but then she hauled back and slapped him hard in the face. Harry followed up by popping him solidly in the jaw. The man fell like a stone.
The others moved toward them. Gina reached into her purse and brought out a switch blade, pressed the button, and six-inches of glistening steel flicked out.
Harry stood beside her. “Any of you take one more step…” he pointed to the man on the floor… “and she’ll slice him open like a dead stag.”
The men stopped, looked at each other, and stepped back. Harry reached over and downed the shot of booze. Then they backed out of The Silver Stope.
They ran to the car, spilled in and were pulling away when the bar patrons ran out onto the boardwalk, shouting lost words at them.
“Well, I guess we can add Virginia City to the places we won’t go back to,” Harry said.
“Who wants to?” Gina said, feeling strangely whole again. “But it was a damn good hamburger.”
They both burst out laughing.
* * *
They drove down the hill, the Jeep radio blasting away. Gina leaned out the window, looked up at the night sky aglitter with stars like scattered diamonds. She sang out into the night.
“The hill-ll-ll-lls are alive with the sound of music!”
She didn’t even try to hit the right notes.
Harry laughed at her screeching voice. “Whoever said you could sing was stone deaf.”
The air was crisp and she was happy again. She turned away from the window, nuzzled Harry’s neck, and wrapped her arms around him. “Am I disturbing you?”
“That doesn’t quite cover it,” he said, hanging on to the steering wheel.
“I can do better.” She ran her tongue into his ear and slid her hands down into his jeans.
“Hey, you she-devil, are you trying to get us killed?”
She wouldn’t let go of him; when they made it back to the Comstock driveway, the minute he parked the Jeep they were in each other’s arms. His fingertips slid across her back and unhooked her bra; his mouth traveled down her neck.
“Baby, I really love you.”
The drinks had made her feel lighthearted and happy—happy for this moment, happy to be with him. She whispered, “How come we never do this in the Fiat.” They both burst out laughing again.
“I can almost visualize that … but not quite,” he said. “Besides, we tried that … once. I say, let’s get out of here and crawl into our bed.”
“No-o-o. Being here makes me feel like a teenager again. You’re just spoiled.”
“And guess who spoiled me?”
They jumped out of the Jeep and Gina ran straight into Pete. Rocky stood next to him. Both of them had wide, nasty smiles on their faces.
“What’s so funny,” Gina said.
“For a minute I thought we was in for a beaver show,” Rocky said. “Hell, there’s nothing like watching two people fucking to heat your blood. Not that mine isn’t hot enough already.”
Harry came around the car. “All right, you two, get lost.”
Pete grabbed onto Gina’s arm, pulled her to him. “Why don’t you get lost, little man, so’s we can have some private time with this here little nurse?” His sour breath, laced with alcohol fumes, spilled over her.
“Get your hands off me, you pig,” she said.
He laughed at her. She drew back and punched him hard in the nose.
Pete let go, covered his face with his hands. Blood gushed between his fingers and ran down his mouth and chin.
“Bitch,” Pete screamed.
Harry lunged at Pete and kneed him in the groin, then chopped hard into his neck. The orderly went down, sprawled in the dirt.
Gina turned, ready for a possible attack by Rocky. But he was bent over laughing.
Pete yelled up at Rocky, “Some friend you turned out to be.”
“Oh, don’t you worry, Petey. They’ll get theirs.”
Harry grabbed Gina’s hand and they hurried to the front entrance. At the doorway, she turned to see if the orderlies were following.
They were gone.
Chapter 26
Rocky sat at the bar, still pissed at that goddamn nurse and her boyfriend making out in the Jeep. He’d wanted to grab her, smash her face, fuck her up really bad.
He watched Pete toss back his beer like he hadn’t had a drink in a coon’s age.
Dude’s a boozer. Friggin’ fool would cut off his dick for a drink.
Idiots like Pete were easy to control. He learned that lesson when they planted him in some dumbass foster home because his Mom drank herself to death.
His foster parents also chug-a-lugged—beer, wine, the hard stuff—every evening of every single day until they passed out.
He watched Pete take another huge gulp of his fresh suds.
Damn! If the jerk isn’t downing another one. That’s his last—after that we’re out of here. I’m getting laid tonight … that’s for sure. And it’s gonna be hot and fast.
Rocky needed to get over this rotten mood—felt like slamming someone hard against the brass bar railing.
Someone’s bitch. That’s what that male nurse did to Pete. Caught him off guard and made him his bitch.
We ain’t nobody's bitch. Nooobooody.
Rocky knew his face had turned bright red—he could feel the blood pounding in his head.
“Hey, dude! Drink ‘er up and let’s go get laid.”
“Not yet, man. I’m just getting warmed up.”
“Be a buddy; lemme finish this.”
Rocky turned away, looked around the room. He played with his half-filled glass of beer, twisted it one way, then another. Typical VC dive—old wooden floors, six-shooters snug in their holsters hanging on the walls next to phony wanted posters, and old Juliette Bulette whorehouse flyers, whoever the hell she was. And there were the mounted stags, their big-time racks on their heads, glassy eyes staring right at him. Stupid, dead animals.
The drinking action was pretty slow, but there were a couple of women giving him the eye, he could feel himself getting hard thinking about doing them.
“Come on, you stupid boozer, down it. We’re out of here, hear me?”
* * *
It took them about twenty minutes to get to the whorehouse, Rocky driving a full ninety with the pedal to the metal, windows wide open; Pete was dozing, snoring and snorting every other minute. Otherwise it was only the sound of the wind blasting through the truck. Without the radio on, it was soothing, almost like pretending to fly in the night, like he used to do when he was a kid.
Rocky thought about that ranch he’d been dumped on. His foster parents worked his ass off all day, but after belting their drinks they’d soon quit their screaming at the kids and each other, and fall into bed. He and Pete would sneak out, climb up into a big granddaddy tree and listen to the wind as it whistled through the limbs and in his ear.
Flying like an eagle.
He looked over at Pete. Even back then he was stealing booze and getting high, getting wasted. Rocky liked his booze, but nothing was going to mess with his game. He was in charge of his life, not some fuckin’ bottle of booze.
He thought about Harry Lucke again.
Friggin’ nurse!
When they finally arrived at the whorehouse, they drove through the gate in the middle of a wire fence that surrounded a trio of connecting house trailers. Bright floodlights and ground light cut through the pitch black night and bounced off the desert floor. Rocky spotted two Dobermans, their flashing green eyes watching intently. They weren’t going anywhere while chained to an iron link in the ground, and they weren’t anywhere near the pathway to the door, but their presence sent its own message.
