“Glad you’re here. We’ll keep going up when we can.”
“You do that. Hurry up. Top and Pepper here are about to freeze to death and it’s sleeting. One good thing, though, is Kendal ain’t in there no more. He got out, but that don’t mean there ain’t somebody else in there with y’all.” Ned watched the tense faces of the deputies and wondered if he’d ever see Cody or John again. “Now, you boys be careful.”
He handed the walkie talkie to Griffin and turned away from the Exchange, a hard lump in his throat.
Baker, the young academic officer, stuck out his hand. “Constable. I’m Malcom Baker. I heard a lot about you when I was growing up. I always wanted to be the kind of officer I heard you are.”
“Well, thanks, but I ain’t a constable no more.”
O.C. turned from his conversation with a police officer and patted Ned’s arm. “Yes, you are. I been meaning to tell you, ever since we got here tonight you’re back on my payroll.”
Ned was surprised. “Why, I retired and Cody was elected.”
“You think I don’t know that? But I’m a judge. I say you’re a constable again. Raise your right hand.”
“Now wait a goddamn minute,” Sheriff Griffin snapped. “You can’t do that.”
Chief Mayhew bit his tongue. He realized the old judge meant business.
“I can, Griffin, and I’m-a doing it now because I’m the county judge. Ned, raise your right hand. Do you swear to uphold the laws of the state of Texas and this county and this country as a sworn constable of Lamar County.”
“It ain’t legal,” Griffin argued.
Despite the cold, fear, and anger, Ned held his hand up and felt better than he had for months. “I shore do.”
“Now you’re a constable again and you’re assigned to me, permanent.”
Wearing adult-size coats, Top clapped and Pepper jumped up and down with joy. The lawmen gathered within hearing distance knew better than to respond in front of the furious sheriff, but they exchanged happy glances at the sudden outcome.
O.C. smiled at the kids, then frowned toward the Exchange. “I wish I had a badge to pin on you.”
Top dug in his pocket. “Mr. O.C.?”
“What son?”
Top held out the little constable badge. “Here it is. You can pin it back on him right now.”
Ned’s blue eyes twinkled. “I wondered where that went.”
“I been carrying it.”
“I see that.”
O.C. pinned the badge onto Ned’s shirt pocket, near the seam. “Now you’re official.”
Ned raised an eyebrow at the kids. “Y’all are still gonna get a whoopin’ when we get home, if we don’t freeze to death first.”
“If that don’t beat all,” Griffin said in disgust.
Chapter Forty
Rotting drifts of leaves filled the rain gutters. Vines rooted in the moist material and covered the potholed roof like a steadily creeping jungle fungus.
***
Buoyed by the conversation, Cody carefully examined the two entrances. Ned was right. Signs had been there all along, plain as day when you knew what to look for. Now that Ned had reminded him, it all made sense. The descending passageway beckoned at a forty-five degree angle. He had no urge to go back down, so he chose the second tunnel, because it was marked with a clear indicator pointing upward.
The battery-fed overhead lights finally dimmed to darkness.
He clicked on the flashlight and illuminated the burrow barely big enough for their shoulders. “Uncle Ned says we’re heading up. See that mark scratched there on that piece of cardboard? It points to where we need to go, just like he said. I can’t believe I’ve been missing them.”
“Well, there’s a lot of trash in here, and it all seems to fill your eyes up.”
“I’m sorry, John.”
“You ain’t got nothin’ to be sorry for. Now, we oughta listen to Mr. Ned, and get ourselves out of here.” The big man swallowed the lump that suddenly rose in his throat.
With Cody leading, they wriggled deep into the oppressive burrow once again. It eventually led into a man-size nest containing still another stained and filthy mattress littered with yellowed, rodent-shredded bills, letters, and receipts. Rats scurried to hide in the dark crevices.
“Nice bedroom.”
“You want to rest?” John played his light across the mildewed mattress.
“Yeah, a long ways from here.”
“Foller me.”
John snapped the dying flashlight off and followed his partner into still another passage. Wiggling on their stomachs, it narrowed down so far they could barely move.
John inched forward. Each movement elicited a grunt, sounding as if they struggled with a great task. Cody’s shoulder brushed what he felt was a doorframe, but it was hard to tell.
Minutes later, a highly polished but stubby wooden leg supported a solid roof only inches overhead. He heard John grunting along behind him. Momentarily forgetting himself, Cody rapped on what he took for plywood. The knock was answered by a slightly harmonic sound.
Cody gave a harsh laugh. “I don’t believe it.”
“Now what?”
“I’m under a piano. This fool has covered a piano and we’re crawling underneath.”
“Hope it don’t fall on us.” John remembered as a kid when he sat with other colored youngsters in the Grand Theater’s balcony and watched cartoons where the characters dropped pianos on top of each other. “You don’t see an anvil up there anywhere, do you?”
“I’ll be damned.” Cody picked up his pace. “I wouldn’t have believed it.”
“You found an anvil?”
John followed behind, scurrying as quickly as possible. He spilled into still another open space illuminated by Cody’s flashlight. They found themselves standing in a dark room filled with bookcases.
“We’re in a library!” John flicked his flashlight on and aimed it past the unusually sparse clutter.
Books extended to the ceiling without benefit of shelving, one row sitting squarely upon the others below. Roaches and silverfish moved freely among the volumes. Every square inch of wall space was packed tightly with moldy and mildewed books. The floor was covered with rotting papers and magazines. George had shaped a library in the litter.
“He was a reader all right.” John moved the beam around the room.
“Incredible. Why did he keep this room open?”
“There ain’t no tellin’.”
Hundreds of volumes dealt with engineering and mathematics, evidence of a scientific mind. In the gloom, Cody was convinced that the secret to George’s madness lay in the rotting pages.
The makeshift library felt as big as a rodeo arena after their travels through the crawlspaces. Cody gaped at the room’s width and breadth, a rotting shrine to knowledge. He advanced cautiously, watching his footing, since many of the covers sloughed off under his feet.
John turned back the way they came. It was true. A grand piano was covered in books and bags of papers and magazines, leaving only the small burrow underneath as an entrance, or an exit. Awed by their surroundings, he stepped toward the nearest wall, reached out one hand, and gently tugged one of the thousands of shelved volumes toward him.
The movement caused the rows of rotting books to fall inward. The shift in pressure dissolved them into soggy mush, and they in sequence crushed their lower neighbors. With a wet sigh, the entire section melted into damp mush at their feet.
Casting his eyes upward, Cody gaped at the ceiling that bowed downward, like a canvas tarp full of water. He quietly placed a hand on John’s arm and pointed up.
John glanced back toward the destroyed mound of pulp, following the structure with his eyes to its junction at the ceiling. It sagged even more, now that the delicate support was gone.
“We have to leave,” Cody whispered, his eyes hard on the ceiling.
“Now.”
They moved as rapidly and carefully as possible across the ro
om toward a dark doorway. Still too stunned to speak, they quickly entered another passageway which immediately narrowed and lowered overhead.
Crouching, their progress stopped when the burrow abruptly ended at a wall. Beneath Cody’s nose, a black pit yawned, reflecting the light. He carefully reached down into the opening, fully expecting something to come roaring out of the darkness.
“What is it this time?” John feared the answer.
Cody’s fingers felt water. Ripples distorted the light. When nothing bit him, Cody stuck his hand even deeper. “It’s a damn bathtub full of water.”
“What fer?”
“He’s cut the floor out here under this wall and wedged an old claw foot bathtub underneath it.” Cody examined the wall where it appeared to rest on the tub’s edge. “This is a u-drain, like under a sink. Dammit! Wait a minute.”
He suddenly realized the purpose of the tub. Still nervous about what might be in the murky water, Cody pushed his arm even deeper and bent his elbow to feel under the wall. The primordial fear of the opaque water was almost too much for him. He shivered, the hairs once again rising on the back of his neck. On the other side, his fingers emerged into the air. He splashed and quickly jerked his arm back.
“You aren’t going to believe this, but to get past, we’re gonna have to go underwater and come out the other side.”
“Not gonna happen. Is there enough room for me to get by? I want to see this.”
Cody pressed himself against the garbage, allowing John to ease past. He didn’t care if John thought he was seeing things. One look at the bathtub was enough evidence.
“Uh uh. Ain’t a-goin’ in there.”
To Cody’s surprise, John doubled his fist and punched the plaster and lath above the tub. Determined, angry, and scared to death, John attacked the wall. Shards of lath exploded under his hammering fists. He recited a litany of curses, born of fear and frustration fueled by the last few hours in the honeycombed garbage heap.
Dust billowed in the yellow light. Tougher pieces refused to yield and John tore at them with his hands, grunting and cursing, finally kicking them out until he created an opening big enough to pass through.
Minutes later, exhausted and strangely satisfied, he turned back to Cody and jerked a thumb toward the ragged opening. “Here’s the door.”
Once the other side, Cody interpreted the symbols beside two burrow entrances. “This one.”
Again on his hands and knees, he led the way, moving as quickly as the terrain would allow. The tunnel was pocked with cubbies and alcoves, each filled with items collected from the streets. Shoes, detergent boxes, empty prescription bottles, and folded city maps jammed the openings like offerings to strange gods of commerce. To their left, waxed bags full of an unknown putty-like substance bulged outward. John decided he’d rather not know what was inside.
“Goddlemighty!” Cody exclaimed and backed up quickly. His shuffling was accompanied by muffled curses.
“What? What?”
“Rats. These huge rats ran right over my hands. I can handle seeing them, but can’t stand it when they touch me.”
“Didja get bit?”
“No. But they scared the shit out of me. They ran from between all these bundles of newspaper up here and disappeared into the other side.”
John rubbed his sweaty palms together. “What do you think scared them to come so close to us?”
Sweat dripped off Cody’s nose. “I wish I knew.”
They waited a few more minutes to settle their nerves. When nothing else appeared, they soon found themselves in a pocket with just enough room for the two officers to sit upright with their backs against the refuse, facing each other. Cody crossed his feet beside John’s elbow and keyed his walkie-talkie.
Chapter Forty-one
Car fenders, an engine block in a puddle of grease, stacks of egg crates, bundles of material and cardboard boxes…
***
“I want you guys out of there,” Griffin said into the radio. “This is a damned circus out here and y’all aren’t making any headway.”
“We’d love to come out,” Cody told him, exchanging disgusted glances with John. “But we’ve already told you, we don’t know where we are. This place is like a rotten apple full of worm holes. The only thing I know is that we’re headed for the attic, if there is one. When we get there, we’ll either find George or we can beat on the roof until someone hears and cuts us out.”
“We’re ready when you are.”
They paused as a rustling sound jolted the tired, strained men.
“Rats again?” John wondered aloud.
“It’s something alive.”
“I believe we better get going.” Without waiting, John turned and crawled into still another tunnel. Surprisingly wide and clear, it angled sharply upward through still another hole in the ceiling, putting him at the base of a set of dark wooden treads. John realized they were probably just below the attic.
He heard Cody huffing behind him and waited in the relatively open area. Cody soon emerged and John stood. He pointed at the stairs leading to a dark, open access. “Looky here.”
“We finally found what we were looking for.”
Cody keyed his walkie talkie. “Boss, we’re near the roof. We’re pretty sure now that our little friend has holed up in the attic.”
Sheriff Griffin stared at the sleet bouncing off every hard surface within sight. The wind thrashed the trees, sending leaves raining down to mix with the ice. “What are you going to do? You have a plan?”
“Not much of one. We’re just going up.” Cody’s voice quivered with tension.
Griffin scratched his neck and wished the night were over. “If the attic is empty I want y’all out immediately. Understood? Find the underside of the roof and beat on it until we locate you. I’ll have my men ready to cut you out.”
“You sound louder than you have since we came inside. There ain’t as much static, so I bet we’re about out. We’ll let you know what we find.”
They rested quietly for a moment. “Damn,” Cody grunted.
“What?”
“I’m getting a fever blister.”
John grinned. “I’ll go. It’s my turn.”
“You sure?”
“No, but get out of my way before I lose my nerve.” He cautiously climbed the creaking steps. Not knowing what was waiting for them, he held his revolver with the muzzle pointed upward. Cody knew full well that if anything happened, he would be virtually unable to help from his vantage point.
Pausing below the opening, John directed his dim yellow light onto open rafters.
“Careful.” Cody kept his eyes on access, watching for movement that would indicate trouble.
When his light failed to initiate any response, John took another step higher and stopped.
“See anything?”
“Nope.”
John gained another step and placed his left hand, the one with the flashlight, on the edge of the opening. He stepped again and slowly peeked into the attic, trying to see all directions at once. Finally, he sighed. “All right. I reckon I’m going in.” He didn’t notice the faint crack that released a counterweight and tipped a 55-gallon barrel onto its side. It crashed only feet away from the entrance and the metal lid popped off.
Half a dozen nearly dead snakes spilled near John’s hand. They’d been without food or water for so long the reptiles were slow to respond. Some lay still. The largest, a rattlesnake, coiled weakly and shook its tail with a dry, dusty rattle.
A small copperhead regained its wits first and quickly struck at the first movement it saw. Lucky for John, the half-dead snake only managed to hang one fang in the meaty part of his thumb, but it was enough. Already wired to the limit, he jerked backward, slinging the snake toward Cody below.
“Snake! I’ve been bit. Aw! Damn, I’ve been snakebit.” Stumbling backwards down the steps, John would have landed hard if Cody hadn’t broken his fall. They went down in a tangle and Cody mom
entarily saw stars when his head cracked against the floor.
Tasting blood, he struggled to his feet and painted the light quickly around John’s prone body until he found the disoriented snake. It moved lethargically, and had barely managed to turn over when Cody stomped again and again until it was unrecognizable.
He turned to John. “It’s all right. Take it easy.”
John’s heart rate was already accelerated from fright, and it wouldn’t take long for the venom to travel throughout his body. Cody had heard stories about people who ran themselves to death after being bitten by poisonous snake. Knowing the trip to St. Joseph’s Hospital, only a few short blocks away was impossible, Cody reverted to his earlier training.
Kneeling, he again fished the razor sharp knife from his pocket and flicked the blade open with his thumb. It was hard to see in the failing light. “Hold still, this is gonna hurt.” He grasped John’s wrist, and made a small incision directly over the single puncture before John even registered the action. He jerked back at the stinging pain in his thumb, but Cody held tightly and made the second cut across the first.
Blood and clear venom leaked from the wound.
He picked up his flashlight and shined it on John’s hand. “Keep that bleeding for a minute.”
John’s initial panic subsided and he consciously calmed himself, knowing what would happen if his heart didn’t slow. He watched as blood dripped onto the paper below them.
Cody removed the lace from John’s shoe and tied it in a slipknot around his thick forearm, firmly enough to indent the skin. “Don’t pull the knot too tight. You need to loosen it every couple of minutes or so, or you’ll get gangrene. This is supposed to help slow the spread of the poison.”
Still frightened, John nodded.
“He only got you with one fang, and it didn’t go too deep, so you may not have gotten a complete load. We’ll be out of here pretty quick.”
“I sho’ do hope you’re right.”
“I am.” He felt less confident than he sounded. John sank heavily to his haunches.
Knowing there was no other way, Cody climbed the steps, ready for anything. He repeated John’s actions and carefully examined the entrance. At eye level, he could clearly see the barrel turned on its side, but because of his low angle, the snakes were virtually invisible. Not knowing what else to do, he probed the entrance with his light. When nothing happened, he risked a peek over the edge.
Burrows Page 22
