by Lee Deadkeys
Jessica looked around, took in the strangers, the units and then stiffened.
“What? How?” She turned quickly. “Dogs. Where did the dogs go? God, it’s hot.” She seemed to be coming out of it, but Frank wasn’t completely convinced it was the heat. He felt something odd had happened but the harder he tried to hammer it down, the more he missed the nail. He shook his head; maybe it was the heat or maybe the events over the last couple days had begun to wear on her, on him too. Maybe it was a little of both.
“Can we move along? I have another engagement later this evening,” an older man said as most of the group muttered their agreement.
Dick gaped at them, “But the… the dogs,” he stammered, pointing in the direction the dogs had disappeared.
Mildred looked as uncertain as Dick. “Maybe we should leave, Clarence.” She stared off in the opposite direction Dick was pointing and moved in a little closer to her husband. Clarence didn’t seem to know what to do with the decision left up to him, but finally he hitched up his pants and bid them farewell as he led his wife back towards their car.
Dick threw up his hands. “Fine! Sooner we get this done, sooner I’ll be free of the lot of you.”
* * *
The small group watched with growing anticipation as Dick worked the bolt cutters on the padlock. It took surprisingly more effort than all the previous locks but finally the jaws severed the steel shank. Everyone stared at the door, waiting as he tossed the ruined lock, along with the bolt cutters off to the side.
Dick turned, faced the door, took a deep breath and rolled up the metal separating them from the contents of the unit.
Jessica stood on her tiptoes as soon as the door broke from the concrete floor, everyone crowded forward. She pushed between two older men in front of her and stepped up to face the great black maw of the open unit.
The sun was low behind the huge lot. This row faced east, enveloping the opening in deep shadows. Inside it was so dark that at first she thought someone had hung a black drape across the opening. After a second look, she realized no lights were on inside and felt a flutter in her stomach; even with no lights on inside, it seemed too dark, too tangible, a wall of ink.
Someone finally spoke. “Is it empty?”
She strained her eyes trying to penetrate the darkness. Dick said something about turning on the lights but seemed hesitant to reach in. A man near the front complained that unless there was light, he wasn’t going to drop one red cent. Dick steeled himself, drummed up his nerve, plunged his hand in and hit the switch.
A strobe of light cut through the darkness, died, and was reborn a moment later. The tink, tink of fluorescent bulbs revving up sounded strange to her, a Morse code for a distant and alien language. She blinked, as did the light, and for a moment thought something crouched near the back, something ancient and forgotten; a golem, tapping out benedictions at the foot of an altar.
She shook her head, trying to clear her mind of these thoughts, to focus.
Light stabbed at darkness, a vague outline blinked into shape near the back of the wall. It was cube-like and slightly rectangular.
“It’s a safe,” someone said as the light fluttered and finally caught. Bodies pressed close, everyone hoping for a closer look.
“Strange shape for a safe, don’t you think?” Frank said. “Unless it’s laying on its side or something.”
No one spoke for a moment. Jess looked up at the fluorescent lights above and noticed that the already weak light was getting weaker with every passing moment. “I think those lights are about to burn out, Dick,” she said, pointing up. Every head moved upward just as the tubes buzzed and winked out.
“Great! Fucking fantastic!” Dick swore. A woman near him gasped and he grudgingly apologized for his language. “Well, you saw it. Let’s start the bidding at ten dollars.”
Jess held up her hand. “I’ll give you a hundred for it, Dick.” Everyone looked at her. The woman gasped again as if she’d heard another dirty word.
“Jess?” Frank asked. “What are you doing?”
She shrugged, “I don’t know. I want it.”
“Sold!” Dick nearly screamed.
The gaspy woman pushed up to Dick, “Wait a damn minute. What happened to, ‘going once, twice?’”
“You’re right,” he said, “Do I hear one hundred and ten? No? Then sold to that bidder!”
Dick rubbed his temples as the woman threw her hands in the air, clearly irritated. “Well, that’s just great,” she huffed, shooting a glare at Jess. “You don’t even know what’s in the damn thing. You just got taken. They probably took all the good stuff out and left that box.”
Jess took a step toward the woman. “Well, then what the hell do you care?”
Frank stepped between the two and gently maneuvered Jess to a less threatening distance from the senior woman.
“Come on, ladies, let’s just let it go and part as friends.” The older woman shocked him by spitting at Jess’s feet before turning and storming off. He rubbed a hand over his face, he needed a drink.
As the rest of the group began to move off to their vehicles or to loot their newly purchased units, Frank noticed every head turn toward Jess’s unit, their faces twisting in a strange combination of longing and loathing. Finally, reluctantly, he turned to the unit and found he desperately hoped the strange box was indeed empty.
* * *
Jessica stood framed in the impossible blackness of the open unit, the contrast blurring the outline of her body.
“It’s really dark in there,” she said when he moved alongside her. “Maybe we should come back in the morning with some lights.”
Frank nodded. “Yeah. Or we could just leave it… tell Dick we had a change of heart.”
“No!” Dick said from behind them. “I’ll get some flashlights, you two need to get that out of here tonight.” Jess jumped at the start and whirled on him.
“What’s the hurry? We have until close of business tomorrow to get the place cleaned out, so back off and don’t rush us.”
Dick wrung his hands and Frank thought he looked close to tears. “But you have to… I can’t have those dogs here another night.”
Jess looked repulsed and took a step away from him. Frank put a hand on Dick’s shoulder. He seemed not to notice, his eyes darting from the unit to the ground and back again while his lips moved in silent muttering.
“Dick?” Frank said, giving his shoulder a squeeze. Dick looked up suddenly, followed Frank’s arm to his shoulder and shrugged it off.
“Don’t touch me, Frank, don’t ever touch me. What are you, queer or something?” Spittle glistened from his lower lip. “Just get the damned thing out of my unit. You have until tomorrow.”
They watched his jiggling body move off toward the office. Frank shrugged, What are you going to do?
“Let’s get moving,” he said as he pulled a padlock from a belt loop and locked up the unit for the night.
Day 3, Night
Sergeant Sam Story
Home
Sam Story was sitting in his favorite chair, halfheartedly watching the local news, but mostly brooding about the events that had led to his current unemployment. The fact that the talking head on the news had just finished a story about Wormwood Penitentiary and the attack on Dr. Thomas did nothing to improve his mood.
The phone rang, startling him out of his funk, and he jerked up the receiver before the first ring ended.
“What?” he grunted.
“Sam?”
“Yeah. Who’s this?”
“Hey man, it’s Ted. We were just hearing about you on the news. How you doing, pal?”
Sam sat up in his chair, set his warming beer on a small water-ringed table and shook loose a cigarette from the crumpled half-pack beside the unused coaster.
“What can I do for you Ted?” he asked and then lit the smoke.
“I get the feeling you ain’t happy to hear from me. You do know if Luke and I had any say, you’d sti
ll have your job, right?”
Sam blew a smoke ring. “Yeah, I know.” He paused, not really knowing what to say, “So, how’s Chad doing? I heard they let him go with a med-pack.”
“Looks like the boy will be okay. The hand is fucked but he still has use of the other one for date night, if you get my drift.”
Sam got it, it just wasn’t funny. The kid got off lucky but that didn’t mean he got off completely. The medical compensation package wouldn’t be nearly enough to live on. The real bitch of it was the kid was so young and, more importantly, he felt responsible.
Ted seemed to read his mind, “Look, Sam, it wasn’t your fault, okay? The kid or the Doc either, okay? I mean shit happens, man. Coulda happened to Luke or me just as easy, you see what I’m saying, Sam?”
He didn’t really see what Ted was saying at all. In fact, this was the stupidest cheer-up talk he had ever heard. The only thing worse would be if Ted brought up all the pain and reconstructive surgeries the kid would go through.
“So it ain’t your fault, Sam. Damn, did you hear Chad still feels pain in his ate off fingers? Ain’t that a kick in the ass? They call it Phantom pain or something like that. Kid’s lucky the prisoner didn’t bite off his balls, eh?” Ted let out a long, phlegm-choked laugh that trailed off into what sounded to Sam like a sob. He unconsciously pressed the receiver harder against his ear.
“Ted?” he asked. “You okay?” He heard static on the line he hadn’t noticed before and wondered if Ted had hung up.
“Fuck, yeah, I’m dandy. The Event has started and I’m in my best black tie and tails. How about you, you ready?”
Sam stood straight up, his leg knocking against the table and sending it flying.
“What did you just say?” he asked, fingers white-knuckled around the phone. He heard something like a hand move across the mouthpiece and swore he heard a voice talking to Ted.
“What? Nothing. Just saying I’m good is all. We’re all good here,” Ted finally said.
Sam looked around the room, he suddenly felt very cold although he was sweating. He wanted to slam down the phone or better yet, maybe rip it right out of the wall. Instead he said, “Look, Ted, you caught me at a bad time, can I uh, give ya a call ba—”
“Did you know we have a bat problem in the boiler room? Yeah, bats. Big fuckers too. They get in through the ventilation ducts, I think they have rabies or something and there is this chest thingy down there. The bats… they uh….”
Sam could hear himself breathing into the phone. He moved the mouthpiece a little farther away and tried to steady himself. Ted was definitely not okay.
“Ted, Wormwood doesn’t have a boiler room.” It was the only thing he could think of to say.
“Yeah, turns out it does, or used to. There was a cave-in in inmate 2012’s cell. We found it when we were stripping it down. Poor Luke fell through the hole, almost broke his damn leg too,” he laughed. “There is this old chest down there, right under the hole and it looks like the floor above it just rotted out. You know what’s weird? If you measure from the top of the box to the hole you come up with 20 feet, 12 inches, just like the inmate’s number. Hard to tell what all is down there though, all the damn bats buzzing our heads… buzzing.”
“Wouldn’t 20 feet, 12 inches be 21 feet?” Sam asked and instantly regretted it. He didn’t want to talk anymore and he damn sure didn’t want to antagonize Ted. The man sounded… off. He began to wonder just what the hell was going on at Wormwood when Ted spoke again.
“Uh, no, bro. It’s what I said it is. That’s your problem, you think you know stuff… you don’t know shit! You come on over here, spend some time in the boiler room with us, then maybe you’ll know shit, you cocksuc….”
Sam hung up the phone and took a few steps away from it. A moment later he yanked the cord out of the wall.
Day 4, Morning
Frank and Mason Dade
Dick’s U-Store-It
Frank Walker pulled into the U-store-it lot at 9:59 AM and saw Mason Dade sitting in his own truck; he appeared to be asleep.
He parked in an open space, exited the truck and turned to grab a flashlight from the center console. Sifting through loose change and broken CD cases he finally found the Streamlight.
“Morning, Frank,” a voice said behind him. Frank jerked up straight, knocking his head against the doorframe.
“Good Lord, Mason!” Frank rubbed the tender spot on the back of his head. “I need to put a bell around your neck.”
The younger man grinned at him, “Scared ya, did I?”
Frank bent in the truck and grabbed the flashlight he’d dropped. “Yup, you did. You should be careful about doing that. Jessica would kill you if you gave me a heart attack.”
Mason smiled sheepishly. “Oh, hey now, we don’t need to concern her with that.”
“No, I suppose not,” Frank said. “No need to rile her this early.” He knew Mason was taken with his daughter and could find no objections to that.
“No, sir, in fact, I make it a habit never to rile her, no matter the time.”
“Smart lad, I could take a lesson.” Frank shut the door of his truck then keyed the fob to lock it.
“Should I pull my truck around to your unit? I brought a ramp and hand-truck because you mentioned it was a big safe or something.”
Frank felt a tic at his eye. The day was beautiful and he was in good company, but the mere mention of that box filled him with inexplicable anxiety. He rubbed at the tic and shook his head. “Better wait for Jessica, she shouldn’t be long.”
As if on cue, Jessica’s truck roared into the parking lot. She constantly drove like a maniac, which drove Frank nuts.
She braked suddenly and leaned an arm through the open window. “Well, if it isn’t Mason Dade himself,” she said as if making a statement and no more, but Frank thought he detected a slight upturn to her mouth and a little dance to her eyes.
Mason nodded at her, a simple Hey, Jess and looked away.
Frank rolled his eyes at the two of them and tried to remember if it had been the same way between him and Jessica’s mother. Then he smiled to himself because he remembered it had.
“What are you doing here, Mason?” she asked, her truck idling in the middle of the driveway. Before he could answer, a rundown car pulled in behind Jess and honked, the woman behind the wheel motioning for Jess to proceed through the security gate. Jess leaned half her body out the window and yelled for the other driver to go around.
The woman raised both hands off the wheel in exasperation and then honked another quick blast before gripping the steering wheel again; a look of stubborn determination setting in her chubby face.
Frank walked over to his daughter’s window, “Jess, maybe you should just pull to the side or head on in to the unit.”
Her head snapped to the rearview mirror, “She’s got plenty of room to go around. She’s just being a bitch.” With that, Jess flipped the woman the middle finger and shut off the truck’s engine, meaning to stay put.
Frank took a step back, getting a look at the driver of the small car. He saw the woman’s face turn a deep red as she replied with another honk of her horn, only this time she held down for a full five seconds, released and began to pound out her frustration in horn blasts.
“What the?” Jess said and leaned back out the window. “Go. The fuck. Around. Bitch!”
Frank watched the scene in horror-struck silence as his daughter tried to antagonize the woman into a confrontation. He wondered if Jess was carrying a gun. It wasn’t really a question because deep down he knew she was, and then his innards went icy when the real question presented itself; did the other woman have a weapon? This question changed the color of the situation completely.
He played a scenario in his head where the woman in the crappy car got out and walked, screaming and yelling up to Jess’s door, yanked it open and proceeded to assault his daughter.
The image changed rapidly in his mind. First, the woman beat J
ess with her fists, then a knife materialized in her pudgy hand, slashing at her face before finally smashing her skull with a tire iron.
The creaking of a car door jolted him from these thoughts. The woman in the car thrust open her door with one hand as her other hand reached behind her seat for something unknown. Frank was beside the woman’s door in an instant. The inside of the car was a mess of burger wrappers and mostly empty soda cups. The woman, seemingly unaware of Frank’s nearness, continued to root through the heaps of trash littering the floorboard.
She jerked upright when Frank slammed her door closed, throwing up her hands protectively in front of her face. This close to her, Frank thought she had the shifty appearance of a ferret or other medium-sized rodent, and then wondered why every undesirable person he’d met since the incident at the deli reminded him of an animal.
Her head darted from side to side as she peeked around her hands to look him over. He wished he had a piece of cheese to give to her, calm her down. Cheeseless, he settled on putting his own hands up so she could clearly see he meant her no harm and had nothing in his hands.
“Ma’am, would you mind pulling around my daughter’s truck? She’s having engine trouble and I don’t know how long it’ll take me to fix it.”
The woman hesitantly lowered her hands to the steering wheel and scowled through the windshield at Jess. She gripped and released the wheel several times. Frank thought he could hear wheels turning in her head. She was fired up and didn’t want to let this go. Her head jerked to Frank again, “Well, she coulda just said that instead of cussing me! You shoulda raised a kid with some manners!”
And you should have just pulled around and not made a scene, he thought but just nodded, feigning shame.
The woman risked one more glare in Jess’s direction, put her car in gear and pulled around.
Frank looked at his daughter as the irate woman passed and noticed that Jess never turned her head toward the other woman. Mason had moved to the truck door while Frank talked with the woman; his hand rested on Jess’s arm. As Frank approached he quickly removed it, awkwardly dropping it to his side.
