The Tramp (The Bound Chronicles #1)

by Sarah Wathen

  Rachel never complained. “It’s glass, that’s what happens. Bring it to the kiln and I’ll have Caleb repair it.”

  He had the most contact at the shop with Caleb, and Caleb threw information as fast as Sam could catch it. Anything to lighten his own load. Resist masking. Photo emulsion. Oil painting. Sam hadn’t gotten on the torch yet, but it was only a matter of time. The promise of learning more kept him coming back.

  On his first day in the studio, when Caleb gave him the tour, he explained how tools worked and talked about the properties of glass. Sam was engaged but not fascinated. Then Caleb turned on a torch, picked up a long, thin borosilicate tube, and began rotating it over the flame with his bare hands. The small heated section glowed bright orange, and once the temperature was even, the glass condensed and turned to honey. Caleb pulled it to a point, making a taper, then took it out of the flame and talked while he let it cool. In fifteen seconds, the taper was solid again, and he snipped off the end. That end became a blowhole within minutes. He heated the other end to molten hot liquid, then put his mouth to the glass and blew a perfect bubble.

  I want to do that. Sam knew without reservation.

  “Quitting time.” Rachel’s voice echoed through the studio behind him. “Well past, love.”

  Sam went to check his watch reflexively, but his wrist was buried, his hands already back in the protective blue gloves. He turned to find the wall clock and saw Rachel sauntering toward him, swirling a glass of wine.

  “How about I throw a couple steaks on the grill? You must be starving, Sam.”

  He had worked straight through lunch, and a look out the window into pitch-black night showed he’d missed dinner as well. His stomach clenched at the thought of steak, his nose picking up the scent of charcoal burning outside. She had already lit the grill.

  “You’re welcome to stay again, you know.” She was close enough that he could smell her perfume, and a flick of his eyes confirmed that she had already changed. Slinky black dress, high-heels. His pulse quickened in memory of the previous night. She’d told him he didn’t need to spend it alone and he was grateful for a respite from loneliness.

  He pushed his paper mask down below his chin. “I should shower.”

  “You’re welcome to that, too.” She smiled over her shoulder as she walked towards the door, “You know where everything is. We’ll eat after you clean up.”

  Sam wiped the sweat off of his forehead with his shirtsleeve and flinched at its griminess. Guess I better bring some clothes from home.

  chapter thirty-five

  Amanda started skipping when they got closer to the hidden passage. “Okay, so you look for the tree with the crazy, Martian-looking red lichen growing clear up one side, once you pass the turn off for Oak Court.” She pulled Antonio with her, swinging their clasped hands between them. Lindsay followed behind with John; she had grabbed his hand in retaliation, once her friend stole Antonio away. It was either that, or sulk with her arms crossed against her chest, and Amanda had already chided her about that. Lindsay watched the side of John’s face adoringly. He didn’t really mind—Lindsay was pretty. But feeling like Amanda’s pawn sucked.

  Just past the lichen tree, they turned off the paved road, their shoes padding over a thick blanket of spongy fallen leaves, the topmost layer still sodden from a recent rain and cushioned by years of almost undisturbed decomposition. That section of the woods was uninhabited, and dense. Fallen trees and branches littered the forest floor, but Amanda seemed to know the way. She warned of muddy spots and poison oak, and pointed out a tiny, dilapidated wooden cabin the moment the view was clear.

  “See? Just there, up ahead.”

  “The Shack?” John tried to take the edge off his voice, but he knew the place was Candy’s hideout that she hadn’t bothered to mention. The probable reason for her secrecy—that she had been with that creep Sam—was enough to make him almost lose his lunch. It had taken an enormous amount of will-power not to confront Candy about it. But, she seemed to be steering clear of Sam anyway lately, so why push it?

  Oh, speak of the devil. John was unsurprised to find The Shack already inhabited once they finally reached their target and pulled aside the ratty curtain serving as a door.

  “Sam—hi,” Amanda sang. “What are you doing here?”

  Sam and a friend were sitting across a makeshift table from each other, each holding a fan of playing cards to their chests, startled at the shrill voice. His buddy pulled his baseball cap farther down on his forehead to shade his eyes, then spit into a dip can next to his boot in reply. Sam snuffed out a joint under his heel and brought his cards to rest on his knee. He narrowed his eyes at the newcomers, blowing out his last puff of smoke with a provoked scowl.

  “I hope we’re not interrupting anything,” Lindsay squeaked.

  “Oh, please, Lindsay. This place belongs to everybody. I’m Amanda.”

  “Tyler,” the other boy said, accepting Amanda’s hand and letting his gaze linger over Lindsay’s body, from the pigtails curling down either side of her breasts to her painted toenails in strappy leather sandals. “Thought this place was unbeknownst to most, but now we got football players and cheerleaders showin’ up.”

  “I am not a cheerleader.” Amanda plopped down on the loveseat next to Sam.

  Lindsay was offended. “Well, just because I cheer doesn’t mean I’m a prude or anything. It’s a sport, you know.”

  “Hello, I am Antonio.”

  John internally derided his friend, watching him offer his hand affably to the shady characters. Couldn’t he smell the pot? Sense the malice in them? Nice place Candy.

  “What are you guys playing?” Amanda leaned against Sam’s shoulder to peek at his cards with a mischievous smirk.

  “Actually, I was just leaving.” Sam collapsed his hand and passed the cards to her. He ran both hands through his hair and rose to go.

  Tyler kept his nose buried in his cards. “Later.”

  John glowered at Sam and planted himself in front of the doorway to block his retreat. “Running off so fast? Too ashamed to be seen here?”

  Sam straightened to his full height and met John’s glare. He jutted his face close enough that their noses almost touched. “Get the fuck out of my way. I’m not ashamed of anything, pal.”

  “Make sure you’re not.” John, who had been leaning against the doorframe with his feet spread wide, unfurled vertically to impose the two or three inches he had on his adversary. Tense seconds passed in blood-rushing silence, before Sam rammed his shoulder into John hard, bulling past him and nearly knocking him off his feet. John righted himself and drove Sam sideways into the doorjamb. Chunks of debris fell from the ceiling. Sam grunted as he shoved free, an elbow in the gut to aid his passage. John let him go, eyes blazing after him.

  The others sat in stunned silence; the only noise was John’s panting breath and Sam’s boots stomping away in the brush. The metallic slam of a truck door and the roar of an engine brought the party out of their stupor.

  “You okay, man?”

  “Wow.”

  “You guys are like, really mad at each other.”

  “That was so dramatic, what’s going on?”

  “Nothing,” John mumbled, trying to shake it off.

  Antonio put an arm around him, “You sure?”

  “Yeah, forget it.”

  Amanda was unperturbed. “Well anyway. What were you guys playing?” John had a feeling she had been banking on some drama.

  Tyler snickered, gathered up the cards, and shuffled expertly, clearly not feeling the need to leave. “We were playin’ poker. Who’s in?”

  After all his friends asked to be dealt a hand, John rolled his shoulders loose and mumbled that a card game would be fabulous. He slouched into a musty seat, tenderly feeling his chest. A nasty bruise was on its way. Before he could blink, Amanda perched her cushy, s
cantily clad rear-end on his thigh and gave him a guileful look. “I don’t really know all the rules. Can you help me, John?”

  John glanced at Antonio, who was cuddled with Lindsay on the loveseat, taking direction from Tyler. Neither of them seemed to be familiar with the game, to the redneck’s delight. Please don’t tell me they’re betting money.

  Amanda leaned over to show him her hand of cards and spilled her cleavage in his face.

  Why not? John knew she was teasing him and he wondered how fast she would rescind her offer. He circled his arm around her waist and ran his hand up the inside of her thigh. When she didn’t shove him away, he thought he’d call her bet by snapping the hem of her panties or some other asshole move, but he jerked his hand back with a jolt when he didn’t find any. “Damn you.”

  She chuckled. “Tsk, tsk. Bad boys should be able to backup naughty claims. You gonna help me win this, or not?”

  “Not.”

  “Here, maybe you need a better look, my man,” she sneered.

  She tried to slide down his leg to sit fully on his lap, but John grabbed her around the middle and moved her into the seat next to him. “I’ve got to…”

  Amanda sent daggers from her ignominious dismount. “What?”

  John had to get out of there.

  “Got to what?” she demanded.

  “Piss.”

  As soon as he stepped under the drape and sucked in fresh air, he realized how stifling that cabin was—physically, mentally, not to mention sexually disturbing. God, what was going on with Candy? He looked up through the trees and saw blue sky streaked with high, thin clouds; a testament to the brisk, fresh breeze awaiting him if he could just get the hell away from The Shack. He walked aimlessly, first pretending he didn’t care if he got lost. At least his head was clearing. But, after glancing back and seeing the cabin had disappeared among the trees, he admitted he didn’t recognize one bush from the other. That could get dangerous in Shirley County. He gave up his bravado and sat down on a sizable boulder to let his brain finish settling.

  “You just need to get out into the fresh air, son,” his dad always insisted, usually between business calls, as each school year drew to a close. “You don’t know what that does for your mind, to unclutter it, to free your brain from all those worries you think you have.”

  John relaxed back onto the rock in a sliver of sunshine. “Yeah, but when you live out in the fresh air, life has a way of crowding in anyway, doesn’t it, Dad?” he said to the sky. Maybe that’s why his father never returned to Shirley himself.

  “Shit y’all, Come an’ looka this!”

  John raised his head, his brow furrowed. Something about the tone in that summons—it sounded like that Tyler guy—was too intense to ignore. He started backtracking to the cabin, aided by the general clamor of his friends tramping through the woods. They all seemed to be moving south of The Shack, their voices rising in amplitude. The air cooled and the unmistakable aroma of sulfur lingered in the air. When the trees cleared, John stopped short. He nearly tripped over some stones projecting from the ground and he grabbed a tree branch to avoid flailing headfirst into water. The whole crew was on the other side of a natural spring, Amanda disappearing into the towering rocks beyond.

  “It’s a cave,” Lindsay said, waving John over as he emerged from the trees.

  Tyler motioned to the water, “I’s taken a wiz over here—”

  “Tell me you didn’t pee in the Blue Spring, Tyler.”

  “How come?”

  “Oh my god.”

  “Why is it blue, anyway?” asked John, peering into the water, both intrigued and revolted. Did he see a green cloud in the pool, and smell Ode de Tyler mixed with the sulfur?

  “It’s a natural phenomenon,” Lindsay said. “Didn’t you guys learn about it in freshman history?”

  “In Memphis?” John and Antonio looked at each other and laughed under their hands at the absurdity of Lindsay’s belief in the wide-ranging importance of Shirley County’s scientific wonders. “No word of it in Italy either?”

  “No.”

  Lindsay put her hands on her hips. “It’s some kind of rare algae or something. You definitely shouldn’t pee in it.”

  “How do you know? Might be it’s good for it,” said Tyler defensively.

  “It’s sacred. Don’t ever do that again.” Amanda’s voice echoed inside the chamber. If that wasn’t enough to invite her friends into the more recently discovered, enticingly secret, natural phenomenon, Tyler Finley’s murderous look in her direction was. First Lindsay, then Antonio, turned their backs to him and made their way inside.

  John edged around the other side of the spring, keeping his eye on Tyler. There was something about that guy that made his skin crawl. Wish he’d just take off.

  “Whoa, this is far out,” Antonio breathed, peering around in the dim light inside. “I was hoping I find this…stuff here.”

  “Really?”

  “What do you mean?” Lindsay sidled closer, helping herself to one of Antonio’s arms, more cozily attired in his soft hoodie sweatshirt than her own bare biceps. The temperature dropped at least ten degrees inside the cave.

  “Is famous, the mysterious of Appalachia? The caves.”

  “You seen that movie, The Descent?” asked Tyler. “Them monsters in the caves?”

  “That was such a creepy movie, I saw it,” said Lindsay.

  Amanda shook her head in irritation. “Totally fictitious.”

  Can’t you see this guy doesn’t need more pissing off? John marveled at the foolish actions of otherwise intelligent people.

  His eyes began to adjust to the gloom. He had always been interested in Shirley County caves growing up, and had visited some around the region, both north and south along the main mountain trail that ran through several states. He usually hit them with Candy’s family, many of whom were devoted naturalists. Most were expert climbers, hikers and campers—even a few extreme spelunkers. Several close-by cave systems had been fitted with lights and railings, the more dangerous reaches closed off to casual visitors. John had never been scared to enter them, even as a child, because Candy was the scout. She always knew her way and was never scared. She laughed at the federally mandated warnings of the dangers involved in a gazillion tons of rock looming overhead, and joked about the admonitions of children lost forever after wandering off into uncharted nooks and crannies.

  “There’s more that goes back further…like, a lot more.” Lindsay was leaning her face close to an inner wall and shining her cell phone light into a deep crack.

  “What do you mean, like another room?”

  “My mom always told me our dog hated to walk in this area,” Lindsay chuckled. “No wonder. He hates the dark and won’t even go into the basement, big chicken. You know how dogs are, with their sixth-sense. He must have known something like this was here.”

  “Something, like what?” Antonio offered his hand for her phone. “Mio Dio…”

  John leaned in to look, and since he had the longest reach, Antonio gave him the phone for the best possible view of what lie beyond. The light was too weak, though, and they couldn’t see much. “There’s definitely a lot more back there.”

  Lindsay nodded. “You can hear our voices echoing far away. When the echo’s long like that, it means the cave is really deep.”

  John felt a weakness in the wall as he leaned against it. It wasn’t rock—it was more like fiber. “I think this is false rock here, look.”

  “That’s so weird—what’s behind it?” Amanda shouldered closer. “Can you break into it?”

  John backed away. “I’m not sure that’s such a good idea.”

  “Yeah.” Tyler filled in. He pulled at the false rock, grunting with the effort. “I think so.”

  “There’s a flimsy part here.” Amanda helped Tyler ram through the structure,
heedless of the billions of tons of stone overhead.

  “Ew, gross. Is that a bone?” Their eyes followed Lindsay’s trembling finger. She was pointing to a long and solid thing, hanging at an odd angle inside the wall.

  John moved close again for a better look. It was definitely a bone. Is this some kind of ancient burial site? Like the one under the restaurant?

  One of the girls screamed when something came loose and hit the floor with a heavy thud. They all jumped back and watched in stunned silence as a small, ceramic vessel rolled slowly towards their feet.

  §

  “It was right here.” John knelt down and searched the darkest corners with the flashlight that he had insisted she bring. “Maybe it rolled into a corner or something, after we left.”

  Candy squatted down and helped him look. He had called her, thrilled with the news of an uncharted cave less than two miles from her house. He was ranting about artifacts of unknown origin and said he’d be at her house to pick her up in two seconds.

  Candy knew about the cave entrance; she’d visited it with her dad when she was a little kid. It used to have crude paintings on the walls inside that some said dated back to at least 500 or 600 CE. Dad wanted her to see them in their natural state before the university team removed them a couple years before. She hadn’t known about the plastered-over corridor to a deeper system of tunnels beyond the main vestibule, however. Removing the paintings, and probably weakening the top layer of rock, hadn’t been such a good idea after all. Uncovered skeletal remains and pre-historic pottery--holy crap! “You said it was a cup or a bowl? Cylindrical?”