1 The Bank of the River

by Michael Richan

“Not bad. You must have used the good vodka,” Steven said to Roy, handing it back.

  “Nah, I find the rat shit smooths out the Popov,” he replied, taking two large gulps for himself, capping the jar and returning it to the backpack at his feet.

  “Rat shit?” Steven asked.

  “Just fucking with ya,” Roy said, getting out of the car.

  By the time they dropped their gear in the cabin, Steven was feeling euphoric, with a tingling moving through his muscles.

  “Wow,” he said to Roy, stretching his arms and fingers. “That drink is something else. I’m surprised you’re not addicted to it.”

  “Gives me the runs,” Roy said. “And don’t get cocky. You’re not stronger. All it does it make it harder for others to mentally attack you. It impacts them, not you. So don’t do anything stupid.”

  “Anything else we need to do before we go up to the cave?” Steven asked.

  “I don’t think so,” Roy said. “We’ve gone over the guns, we’ve got the flares and blowtorch, and we’re dosed up. I think that’s it.”

  “Dad,” Steven said, walking over to him. “If there’s something you’re planning you haven’t told me about, please tell me now. I don’t want you to take unnecessary risks. You don’t need to. You don’t need to surprise me with something new because you think I won’t understand if you explained it beforehand. I’d rather be partnered with you, knowing what we’re trying to do, than trying to catch up to you.”

  “You know everything I’m thinking,” Roy said. “No surprises. We do it just like we’ve talked about it.” Roy grabbed a backpack, slung it around his back. “But son, listen to me.”

  Steven stopped. Roy didn’t often call him son.

  “You have certain expectations of how thing work,” Roy said. “You’re used to doing things a certain way that’s predictable. You like to plan things out and then have everything go to plan. Sometimes that works. Sometimes it doesn’t work.”

  “I know shit can happen,” said Steven. “I just wanted to be sure you understood that you don’t need to hide anything from me.”

  “That’s not what I’m saying,” Roy answered. “Sometimes the plan has to be trusting in your own ability to react. Sometimes a plan goes off rails so early, there was no point in the planning. What matters is your ability to make quick decisions, not get slowed down by seeing a plan unravel. Everything we’ve prepared for dealing with this sonofabitch might blow up in our faces. You’ve got to trust that you can still move forward, not freeze up or second-guess yourself. I know that’s something you’re not used to, but it’s something I’m hoping you’ll do.”

  Steven thought about this. Roy was right, he knew it. “I’ve been learning a lot from you, Dad,” Steven said. “Far more than you realize. Far more than I’ve realized. It’s just difficult to trust in something you can’t see.”

  “Oh, if that’s the only problem,” replied Roy, “then just open your eyes. You’ll see it.”

  Steven picked up his backpack. “I’ll try, Dad. Let’s go.”

  -

  As they stood at the entrance to the cave, Roy was becoming visibly agitated.

  “Is something wrong?” Steven asked.

  “No, nothing wrong,” Roy replied. “It’s just…he’s in there.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Ninety-nine percent.”

  “You’re not feeling sick like before?”

  “No,” Roy replied, “just apprehensive. He’ll be a cornered animal in there. Makes him more dangerous.”

  “I can tell this isn’t the first time you’ve cornered something,” Steven said.

  “A creature in a mine shaft in Utah,” Roy said. “Long before I met your mother. It knew its way around the mine a lot better than I did. That’s why I’m a little concerned.”

  “At least we know this one is buried,” Steven replied, feeling anxious himself.

  Steven walked into the cave, Roy followed. Steven used a flashlight, Roy held a battery lantern that was designed to sit on the ground and light up an area.

  Steven guessed they were about halfway to the first room in the tunnel when he stopped and turned to Roy to check in.

  “Still doing OK?” he asked.

  “Fine.”

  “Feeling anything?”

  “The body’s up ahead,” Roy said. “It feels stronger.”

  Steven turned and continued down the path. After several minutes they emerged into the first small room.

  “Not here,” Roy said almost immediately. “Not enough water.”

  They progressed to the next small room, where Roy made the same pronouncement.

  In the third room, the water was more substantial. Steven pointed out the animal bones to Roy. “They must be very old,” Roy said. “There are no animals in here anymore. They wouldn’t live this near it.”

  Steven took that to be a good thing – not running into any bears or bobcats took his stress level down a notch. He kept glancing at Roy, looking for signs that he might be tiring or becoming sick. If he was feeling worse, he was covering it well.

  “What about the water, over there?” Steven asked.

  “Not here,” Roy replied. “Stronger up ahead. We’re not there yet.”

  There were two passages leading out of this room; they chose the one that contained the stream of water.

  The passageway was still tall enough to easily stand upright, and both Steven and Roy walked slowly and carefully through it, avoiding the water at their feet. After another hundred feet the passageway opened into a large room, much larger than the previous three. Steven guessed it was about fifty yards wide and the same length. The ceiling was high. Scanning the walls of the room, Steven saw some fissures but they were all small; a person would have to slide into them sideways to progress. There was no easy exit from the room other than the way they entered. The floor was a combination of dirt and rock, and located in the middle of the room was a large pond of water that reflected their bouncing lights. The water looked black and still.

  “He’s here,” said Roy. “In there.”

  Steven suddenly wished they had brought more lights. In the smaller rooms a flashlight did an adequate job, but in this large room the light quickly dissipated. He felt an overwhelming desire to just flick a switch and have the place illuminate.

  The pond was about forty feet across. Water ran out of it and down the passageway, forming the stream they had followed. He scanned the edge of it and could see no inlet. “The water must come from underneath,” he said.

  “And that’s why the grave is probably near an edge,” Roy replied. “I think Ben buried him next to it in dry ground, but then the lake expanded and covered the grave. This room has probably seen cycles of the water rising and falling throughout the years. Lucky for us it’s been on a rising cycle for the past fifteen.”

  “Why don’t we walk the perimeter a little, and see if you can pick up on where he’s at,” Steven said. Roy sat his lantern down and grabbed a camping shovel from his backpack.

  The two of them paced around the edge of the pond, going slowly, shining their flashlight into the first three feet of water. Steven stopped and placed his hand into the water, about two feet out. It sunk only an inch.

  “That’s good.” said Roy. “I’d hate to dig through a foot of water.”

  They continued walking around the perimeter. When they reached the point about halfway from the room’s entrance to the back of the chamber, Steven felt a tug in his chest, and he stopped walking.

  “You felt it,” Roy said.

  “Yeah, like something pulling inside me,” Steven said.

  Another step, and the feeling increased. Two more steps, and it subsided. Steven backtracked to the place where it had felt the strongest.

  “Now,” said Roy, “we just need to know how far into the water.”

  They both walked straight into the water, starting at the point where the tug was the strongest. After two steps they were standing in an inch of
water. After another two, it came to their ankles.

  “Too far,” Steven said, taking a step backwards. “Here.”

  Roy stood next to him. “Yes, it’s the strongest here. This is it.” He took the shovel and stuck it through the water and into the ground as a marker.

  “Damn, I wish we’d brought more light,” Steven said.

  “I need to move the lantern closer to this point on the shore,” Roy said. “That will help some.” He turned and walked out of the water towards the spot where they had left the lantern.

  Steven remained at the shovel. The feeling in his chest was new and unusual, and a little disconcerting, because anything in your chest feels like it might be a heart attack. He lifted his feet and replaced them, trying to see what the ground under the water was like. It felt firm. He walked a little to the left and right, to see if the ground felt different after he stepped off the grave. It didn’t. Things have had plenty of time to settle, he thought.

  Roy returned with the lantern and now that it was only ten feet away things looked better, but he still wished they had stopped at a sporting goods store and invested in lights they could strap to their heads, like miners. Using a hand to hold a flashlight while out in the water began to seem like a disadvantage. Roy joined him.

  “So what do you think is the best way to approach this?” Steven asked.

  “Not sure,” Roy answered. “I guess dig, and move each shovelful of dirt two or three feet away before you drop it back into the water, so it doesn’t float back into where we’re working.”

  “How will we know when we’ve reached him?” Steven asked.

  “We’ll have to use our hands,” Roy replied.

  A chill went up Steven’s spine. It was creepy enough to be in the cave, let alone digging up a body. But to not be able to see it, and to have to feel into the dirt to know if you’ve reached it wasn’t exactly how he imagined things playing out.

  “Let’s get started,” Roy said, grabbing the shovel. He dug into the ground and pulled the shovelful up above the water level, where Steven shone the flashlight on it. The camping shovel was smaller than a regular shovel, collapsible, designed to easily fit into a backpack, and its blade was half the size of a normal shovel. It didn’t bring up much, and what it did bring up looked like muck. Roy took a step to the side and dropped the muck back into the water. Then he took another shovelful and did the same thing. Steven saw the water around their feet become cloudy with the dirt they were stirring up.

  After a dozen shovelfuls Roy bent over and sunk his hands into the hole he’d created underwater, to feel around.

  “Anything?” Steven asked.

  “Nothing.”

  “Here, let’s trade off,” Steven said. “You conserve your strength.”

  “I’m fine,” Roy said, taking another shovelful. “I’m good for a few more inches.”

  Roy dug another dozen shovelfuls and dropped to his knees to check the depth again. He shook his head. “If Ben went six feet, this is going to be more challenging than I thought,” he said.

  “How deep are you now?” Steven asked.

  “I’d say between six inches and a foot,” Roy replied.

  “It’ll be in the next foot,” Steven said confidently, fine tuning the sense he felt in his chest. Roy looked at him.

  “You’re sure?” Roy asked.

  “Aren’t you?” Steven replied.

  Roy smiled at him. “That’s my boy!” he said, digging another shovelful.

  The next few minutes passed silently, Steven alternatively watching the spot where Roy was digging, and watching Roy for signs of weakness. Roy was breathing heavy, but not slowing. Twice he dropped to his knees and checked into the water with his hands.

  Suddenly Roy stopped, holding the shovel but not proceeding. Roy had a concerned look on his face.

  “What?” Steven asked.

  “It’s moving!”

  “Under the water?”

  “Under me, under my feet. I can feel movement!”

  “Dad, get…”

  But before Steven could finish warning Roy to move, he saw the hand emerge from the water, grasping at Roy. Roy jumped back and fell into the water.

  “The shovel!” Steven shouted to Roy. “Use the shovel!”

  The fingers on the hand were flexing, stretching, more testing their muscles than reaching for anything. The skin was stark white. Roy took the shovel and aimed it at the hand. He struck it with the blade, but it didn’t cause any damage.

  “Use the shotgun!” said Roy. Steven handed the flashlight to Roy, and Roy kept it on the hand while Steven swung his backpack off his back and in front of himself. He rummaged through it, retrieving the sawed-off shotgun. He swung the backpack around onto his back, and aimed the shotgun at the hand.

  “No, no,” Roy said. “Get right up next to it!”

  Steven moved in closer, and placed the barrel of the shotgun about an inch away from the hand. He looked up at Roy, and Roy nodded approval. Then he pulled the trigger.

  The sound reverberated inside the room and he heard the splashing of hundreds of pellets hitting the water. He was temporarily blinded by the flash from the gun. When he recovered his sight there was no hand above the water.

  “Reach under there and see what we’re dealing with,” Roy said. “The bulk of him must still be under earth, or he’d be up by now.”

  “I thought you said the water was going to protect us,” Steven said.

  “Apparently it only dampens the mental side of it,” Roy said. “It’s not going to stop him from clawing his way out if he can.”

  “I wish you’d have brought that up when we were planning this,” Steven said, becoming frustrated.

  “We need to expose part of him, the head, the torso,” Roy said. “Keep the extremities buried. Burn his core.”

  “Well, how the fuck are we going to do that, when we can’t see what we’re doing!” Steven said, exasperated.

  Roy replied calmly. “Reach in and feel where things stand.”

  “Here,” Steven said, handing Roy the shotgun. “Do not shoot me while I’m doing this.”

  Steven dropped to his knees next to where he remembered the hand emerging, and slowly slipped his fingers under the water. After moving them around a little, he found the stump of the arm. It moved when he touched it, bouncing back into his fingers, and he yanked his hand from the water in response.

  “Found it,” he said. “Took the hand off at the wrist. It’s moving on its own.”

  “You gotta follow that arm down,” Roy said, “and feel how much is exposed and how much is still buried.”

  “Fuck,” Steven said. “Fuck, this is not how I thought this would go!”

  “Like I told you,” Roy replied. “Things don’t always go as planned. No second guessing. Do it.”

  Steven reached under the water again, searching for the arm. He found it, and held it for a moment. There was no heat from the flesh, just the disturbing movement as the arm tried to wrestle free from his grip. He let it go and felt toward the elbow, which is where he ran into ground. He felt around, and could not locate the upper arm. “Only the part from the elbow on was out,” he said to Roy.

  “Good,” Roy said. “What about around it? Anything else exposed?”

  Steven widened his search a little. His fingers were beginning to get cold. He pressed them into rocks that felt like ridges.

  “Might be ribs,” he said.

  He moved his hands further and found only dirt. The other side of the body was still covered. “The other arm is still underground,” he told Roy.

  “Move up,” Roy said. “See if you can find his face.”

  Steven walked his fingers up from the ribs, and felt them slowly recede into the dirt. Then his fingers brushed the chin. He felt along the side of the head. His fingers were moving through less than an inch of dirt, and the movement of the water was removing much of what remained.

  “The face is nearly exposed,” Steven said.
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br />   “Good. Wait a second,” Roy said, shifting his backpack. “Here, take the gun, will you?”

  Steven removed his hands from the water, and Roy handed him the shotgun. Roy looked through his backpack, and removed a plastic baggie containing two thin rods. He handed the baggie to Steven, who took it.

  “I want you to insert these into his eyes,” Roy said.

  “You’ve got to be kidding!” Steven said, looking at the contents. The two rods were actually wooden sticks, about three inches long. They were bent a little, like twigs from a tree. On each stick, one end had been roughly sharpened to a point with a knife.

  “No, I’m not,” Roy said. “Here, give me the gun back.”

  Steven handed Roy the shotgun and got back down on his knees. He removed a stick from the baggie and reached down into the water again, trying to locate the chin. He found it, then let his fingers move over the mouth and nose until he found an eye. Silt from the dirt still remained, but Steven could feel the eyelid opening and closing. It sent a chill down his back.

  He took one of the sticks, and moved the sharp end down under the water, towards the eye. When he had it in position, he looked to Roy.

  “Just shove it through?” he asked.

  “Yup,” Roy responded, “make sure it pierces the eye, not slip around it.”

  Steven closed his eyes, a move of self-preservation, and pushed. It slipped. He moved his other hand under the water to hold it in position, and pushed again. This time he felt it pierce through, and it sunk rapidly into the body. When it wouldn’t go any further, he removed his hands. As he was preparing the second stick, he thought to himself, this is smart. Even if he is able to free himself before we can finish, he’ll be at a disadvantage. He suspected Roy had additional reasons he wanted the sticks inserted, but this was good enough for Steven.

  As he was lowering the second stick into position, he felt a larger movement, and the water began to shift. Wondering what was happening, he pulled back.

  “No,” Roy said. “Get the other eye. Quickly!”

  Steven didn’t have time. In front of him, the corpse rose, sitting up from its grave. Water poured from the body. Roy kept moving the light from Steven to the body, making it hard for Steven to see the body completely, but the shock of it caused him to fall back into the water, pushing himself away from the corpse.