From up ahead, Hocker suddenly stopped whistling and shouted, as loud as he could, “You’re goddamned right I am! I’m crazy as hell!”
VI
“Well,” Donna said, letting amusement warble her voice, “that about does it. You’ve seen all the nightlife Dyer, Maine, has to offer.”
She and Dale were sitting in Dale’s car, parked at the top of the hill in Brooklawn Cemetery. It was the best place around town she knew to go “parking.” Right now, there were no other cars there. They joked about how kids these days probably couldn’t be bothered by the discomfort of trying to get a little sex in the back seat of their car. Say good-bye to a great American tradition lost because of small, imported cars!
The cemetery hill overlooked the whole town. Over the cityscape of tombstones, they saw the lighted windows of homes, most of which flickered with the pulsating light of a television. A fat, round moon was rising in the east, casting long shadows from the tombstones. Stars sprinkled the sky, and for the first time in a long time, Dale noticed how the Milky Way actually resembled a streak of milk in the sky.
For a while they played the radio, but every signal was weak. The radio rose and faded with an irritating static, so they turned it off and talked. To cut the chill in the air, Dale kept starting up the car and turning on the heater for short bursts. Donna opened her side window a crack before lighting a cigarette but only smoked half of it before crushing it out. Dale told her she should try to limit her smoking; for the first time in a long time, he felt tempted to start smoking again.
What they talked about ranged over a whole variety of subjects, starting with what they remembered about Larry Cole and then leading around to aspects of their own lives. After a while, both of them found they were revealing pieces of their lives they normally kept concealed.
Dale told Donna about Natalie’s death, and about the turmoil and questions and doubts that nagged at him over the years, and about how he had finally got over his grief. When Donna asked him point-blank if he had started dating yet, he told her no. She fell silent, finding it unnecessary to point out that his grieving wouldn’t truly be over until he started dating again. He didn’t tell her that being with her for—what? Only a couple of hours now?—made him think for the first time that he could once again feel something for someone else. It unnerved him that he felt instantly and intensely drawn to her. It also felt good.
Donna, for her part, told Dale all about Brad Phillips, and how he dumped her to go back to his wife. She had felt such anger, betrayal, and hatred then. And as she told him about the parties and the yacht cruises and the weekends in fancy hotels and restaurants, it all for the first time actually started to sound shallow. She began to see herself in a way she didn’t like: as a jaded and superficial bitch. When she said so out loud, Dale surprised them both by cupping her chin with his hands and kissing her firmly on the mouth.
That kiss led to what they later jokingly referred to as some “heavy petting,” and if it hadn’t been for the cramped quarters of the car and the chill on the grass, they would have “gone all the way!” They had to settle for hugging and kissing, and the desperate grasping of two people whose lives seemed to be swirling in the back-eddies of a river totally out of their control.
At one point, locked in a deep kiss, Donna suddenly jerked away, and her eyes widened with fear. “What was that?” she said as she sat up and looked around.
“What was what?”
“I heard something,” she said. Her voice edged up the register. “A thump sound.”
Dale pulled back and casually glanced out his side window. “I think I might’ve kicked the floor. God!” He laughed and straightened up in his seat. “You’re acting like a nervous high school girl, afraid the cops or your parents are going to catch you necking.”
Donna looked at him but didn’t laugh. Her face was grim as she peered out the side window over the moonlit landscape. “No, it sounded like something hit the side of the car.”
“Well, I’m not about to get out and check,” Dale said. He put a false nervous edge to his voice and widened his eyes as he looked out over the cemetery. “I don’t want to meet up with The Hook!” He made a sudden, lunging grab at Donna, who held him back at arm’s length.
“Maybe we’d better leave,” Donna said, still not laughing.
“Before we go too far? Is that what you’re afraid of?” Dale said, leering at her. He knew his humor wasn’t getting to her, so he started up the car and backed around. He had just shifted into forward when both of them heard and felt a solid thump on the side of the car. The shock absorbers gave a high-pitched squeak, but that was soon lost beneath Donna’s shrill scream.
“What the…?” Dale muttered, looking around quickly. He reached past Donna and snapped down her door lock, then his own. He stepped on the brakes so the red taillights would illuminate whatever was behind them. “Maybe I bumped one of the gravestones, backing up,” he said. But he knew it wasn’t a gravestone. The bump on the side of the car had sounded soft, as though he had hit a person. The impact had that solid, yet yielding sound. It was the same sound he remembered when, last spring, he had hit a skunk in the middle of the road.
“I don’t see anything,” he said, searching the red-lit grass. Looking ahead, at the far reach of the headlights, he could see a mound of fresh-dug dirt, and he realized that was where the cemetery workers had excavated Larry’s grave. A cold chill splashed his stomach.
“Let’s get going,” Donna said, her voice a nervous warble.
Dale took his foot off the brake, but then, as the car started moving forward, they heard the sound again. It was a solid thwonk, and this time it definitely came from under the car.
“Maybe I’ve got a flat tire,” Dale said. He was about to shift the car into park when Donna screamed and practically jumped into his lap, between him and the steering wheel. Dale’s eyes widened when he saw, looming out of the darkness and into the headlights, the slouching figure of a man.
“I didn’t hit him, did I?” Dale shouted.
Donna ignored him. She was too busy shaking his arm, trying to get him to drive away.
The man looked at them, staring straight into the harsh light. His figure was sharply lit against the black backdrop of the night. The light bleached his face to a snowy white, as his eyes stared wide open. What struck Dale as really weird were the man’s pupils. Even in the full force of the high beams, they were almost fully dilated, twin bullet holes of black, glaring at them. The man’s thin, pale lips were moving, but nothing intelligible came out, only a muffled garble as he raised his arms and lunged forward at the car.
“Drive! Drive!” Donna shouted as the man made a grab for the car. He stumbled and fell forward, glancing off the side of the car. “He isn’t hurt!” Donna cried. “Come on! Let’s get the hell out of here!”
Dale shook her away from him, gripped the steering wheel tightly, and turned hard to one side; then he stomped the accelerator. The tires screeched, kicking up dirt and grass that splattered against the underside of the car as it fishtailed left and right, then straightened out. The brightly illuminated man, struggling to stand upright, disappeared off to the side, winking out in the darkness as suddenly as he had appeared.
Glancing in the rear view mirror for just an instant, Dale’s breath caught in his throat. In the glow of his taillights, he could saw a dark, bulky shape lying in the middle of the road.
It was another person! his mind screamed. Had there been someone else behind them? He pushed that thought aside and concentrated on his driving.
It wasn’t a person back there, lying in the road! he told himself. It couldn’t have been! He hit one of the trashcans that line the cemetery road, or maybe backed over a large floral display that had been left on a grave. It couldn’t have been another person!
Dale’s foot barely tapped on the brake pedal as he pulled out of the cemetery and onto Main Street. His pulse was hammering so hard in his ears, his vision bounced back and forth
with each beat. He realized he was holding his breath, and as he slowed down, he let it out with a long, whistling sigh.
“Who in the name of Christ was that?” he said, glancing over at Donna, who sat huddled by her door with one hand covering her mouth. Her eyes were two wide orbs, glistening in the light from the dashboard.
Shaking her head abruptly, she looked at Dale, her mouth struggling to form words. “I have no idea,” she said. Her voice was low and gravelly.
“Well, we must’ve disturbed someone. Maybe it was someone sleeping out there in the cemetery,” Dale said, as his pulse gradually dropped and he regained his self-control. “Probably a drunk or something,” he added lamely.
“I don’t know,” Donna said, her voice still shaking. “I didn’t recognize him. But it all happened so fast.”
Dale nodded. “Yeah, well, I guess that’ll teach us to go parking in the cemetery.” He decided it best not to mention to her what he had seen in the rear view mirror. It couldn’t have been a person!
Donna forced a little laugh and said, “You bet. I’m gonna be a good girl from now on!” This was obviously the climax to the night, and any thoughts of inviting Donna back to Mrs. Appleby’s with him had dried up and blown away. They said very little as he drove back to the parking lot behind Kellerman’s where Donna had left her car.
“Do you want me to follow you back to your sister’s?” Dale asked. “You know, just to make sure you get home okay?”
Donna had the car door open, one foot already out on the asphalt. She still felt a tingling all over and, quite honestly, wouldn’t have minded not only having Dale follow her back, but also having him slide in between the old sheets with her, too. She knew he’d have a great time explaining that to Angie in the morning!
“I’ll be all right,” she said. She leaned across the seat and planted a warm kiss on his lips. “Don’t worry.”
Dale smiled tightly and nodded. “Yeah, well—umm, give me a call in the morning, all right?”
“Sure,” Donna said.
“Oh, and another thing,” Dale said. “You said you were thinking about going to go to Larry’s funeral. Are you?”
“Sure,” Donna said. “We can talk tomorrow and make plans.”
“I was wondering if after the funeral, you might do me a favor.”
“That depends,” Donna said, smiling slightly.
Dale was glad to see her sense of humor return after the scare in the cemetery, but what he had to ask made him feel somber. “I was wondering if you’d come with me out to the accident site out at Casey’s Curve.”
At first, Donna didn’t say anything as her eyes flickered back and forth, looking out at the parking lot illuminated by Dale’s headlights. She had to fight hard to control the flood of panic that rose in her whenever she recalled that man’s face, looming at them out of the darkness. She shivered and hugged her shoulders tightly. “It’s not exactly my idea of a fun time, you know,” she said, her voice lowered almost to a growl.
“I know, I know,” Dale said, “but I just—I feel as though I owe it to Larry to take a look around. Somebody’s got to do at least that much for him.”
Donna’s lips tightened into a hard line, but she slowly nodded her head. “Yeah. Okay, I guess. Tell you what. I’ll give you a buzz in the morning.”
“‘Night,” Dale said, as Donna got out and shut the car door. He waited, his car idling, while she got her car started. As she drove away, they gave each other quick little beeps on their horns. Feeling an odd mixture of elation and sadness, he drove back to Mrs. Appleby’s house, wondering how and why, when he was in this town for the funeral of his closest friend, he had found someone who had made him feel deep stirrings that he hadn’t felt since Natalie died. They were feelings he had thought he would never feel again.
Funny, he thought, how life can be like that.
VII
It surprised Tasha how fast the woods got completely dark. Not even the light of the nearly full moon was enough to light up her way. Even Hocker’s whistling up ahead began to get lost to her sense of direction, and at times, in a fit of near panic, she had the sensation that the shrill notes were coming from behind her, from the left, from the right from all around her! The bouncing of her backpack in the small of her back didn’t help her attitude any, either, but she struggled ahead through the undergrowth, hoping it would come to an end soon.
Suddenly, Hocker stopped in his tracks. Tasha didn’t know this until she walked smack into him, almost knocking him over.
“For Christ’s sake!” she wailed after regaining her balance. “Will you at least give me a warning?”
“Sorry,” Hocker said. The unusually subdued tone of his voice tipped Tasha off that something was wrong.
“Wha… what’s the matter?” she whispered, groping in the dark until she found his arm and squeezed it tightly.
“Shit!” Hocker said, and she could hear him stomp his foot heavily on the ground. “Goddamn!”
“Don’t tell me you’re lost,” Tasha said, feeling tension winding up in her gut.
“Just a little bit off the mark, I guess,” Hocker said sullenly. “I think I must’ve gone too far to the left. We should’ve come to it by now.”
Tasha glanced around, trying to see how he could know where he was. All she could see were the stark limbs of trees overhead and the dusty, coal sky beyond that. A chilly breeze raced through the pine boughs, making soft, hissing sounds that reminded Tasha of a snake.
“Real good,” she said, not letting go of her grip on his arm. “You make one hell of an Indian scout!”
“No sweat, no sweat,” Hocker said, shaking his arm loose from her. “We ain’t more than a coupla’ hundred yards off, one way or another.”
“Yeah, but which way?”
Hocker deliberated for just a second, then pointed to the right. “This way, I think. Come on.”
Tasha sighed deeply, wishing they would just spread out their sleeping bags here for the night. Hell, even sleeping without a tent would be better than thrashing around in the friggin’ darkness, she thought.
But she followed, and it wasn’t long before she heard Hocker swear softly under his breath. It didn’t take her long to realize what had gotten him angry, either. Up ahead, through the screen of trees, they could see the warm, yellow glow of light.
“If that’s the farmhouse I found,” Hocker said softly, “I guess it ain’t unoccupied like I thought. Come on, let’s go see.”
“Let’s just spread out the bags here,” Tasha said, trying to keep the pleading whine out of her voice. “I’m hungry, cold, and tired. All I want to do is—”
“Shh! Quiet!” Hocker hissed. He slapped at her in the darkness and connected a glancing blow to her arm. “I can hear voices. Stay behind me and be real quiet!”
For what seemed like the hundredth time today, Tasha wished to God she had the courage to dump Hocker and head out by herself. Is that what she lacked, courage? What would have been the worst that could happen? She’d hitch a ride with some horny old businessman and she’d end up in his bed for the night. Would that be so bad? At least the bed would be in a warm motel room somewhere, with clean sheets and blankets, and a shower in the morning. Better than this by a damned sight!
But she did what Hocker said and kept her mouth closed as she crept forward through the black-drenched woods, keeping as close as she could to him.
The woods abruptly ended, and before them stretched a wide field. Dusty moonlight cast rippling shadows over the furrows where the tangled vines of potatoes grew. The land sloped gently upward, and at the crest of the hill stood a large barn. The light they saw came from a single bare light bulb, hanging from a wire in the center of the barn.
“What the fuck’s going on up there?” Hocker whispered as he knelt at the edge of the woods, staring up at the barn.
Tasha surely didn’t know, and furthermore, she didn’t care. It looked to her like some kind of meeting—just a bunch of farmers, by the looks
; but if it was some kind of gathering, the group of men up there didn’t look like they were having a good time.
“Can you see what they’ve got there?” Hocker asked. “It looks like some kind of big vat or something.”
“I don’t know,” Tasha said. “And I don’t really care. Come on. Let’s get the hell out of here. I’m exhausted!”
“Hold your ass,” Hocker hissed.
He watched intently as the men, maybe twenty or twenty-five in all, stood motionlessly inside the barn while one man, the best-dressed of the lot, stood near a large black kettle. He seemed to be addressing the men, who were lined up in a ragged line. Because of the distance, Hocker couldn’t make out their faces very well, but they all seemed uninterested in what the well-dressed man was saying. While he spoke, he held a large ladle in one hand and stirred something in the kettle.
“That’s probably some homemade kooch,” Hocker said, smacking his lips.
Tasha moaned softly and said, “I just want to get some sleep.”
“Just a second,” Hocker said firmly. “I wanna check this out. Then we’ll see if I can find that farmhouse. I think it’s down that way.” In the dim light, she could see him pointing off to the right.
Hocker figured the men were migrant workers, in the area for the potato harvest. They didn’t move as the well-dressed man spoke with them. After stirring the kettle a while longer, he knocked the ladle on the edge of the kettle, and the men began to crowd around closer. For the first time, Hocker noticed that each of them held a cup of some kind in one hand; as they drew up to the kettle, the well-dressed man doled them out a small amount of liquid. In the harsh light of the naked bulb, the liquid looked dark, a deep purple.
“Hot damn! That’s what it is!” Hocker said excitedly. “They’ve got some kind of home brew.”
“Good for them,” Tasha said sourly. Hocker stayed crouching as he watched each man receive his portion and then walk away to sit down in a corner of the barn, and quickly drink it down. It was one drink per customer, no refills. That made Hocker think it must be some potent, son-of-a-bitching drink!
The Siege Page 15
