“No, I don’t expect so!”
They rode silently in the car for a while. “Do you want to try and sleep now?” Marty asked. “This is going to be a rather long and boring drive.”
“I can’t sleep in cars,” Winn said. “Maybe I’ll try. We’ll see.”
“After today, I expect you’ll be able to sleep just fine,” Marty said. “We’ll get you squared away, and Brent will be gone.”
“I hope so,” Winn said, still feeling a pang of guilt at the idea of forcing Brent the rest of the way out of his life – the ultimate ditch. If this didn’t work, Brent was going to be even angrier. Winn shuddered at the thought.
“So, Ida,” Winn said, trying to get Brent off his mind. “You two were a thing?”
“Depends on what you mean by a thing,” Marty replied.
“You know, a couple.”
“Well, we worked together for years. When my wife died, she started making overtures like she was interested in being more than just work partners. I resisted it for a while, but you saw how persistent she can be. Things heated up for a couple of months, then this thing with her emotions and her nose started, and I just couldn’t do it anymore, so I broke it off.”
“The nose thing was weird, wasn’t it?” Winn said.
“It wasn’t just that,” Marty replied. “Whatever the vorghost took from her used to keep her balanced. Her emotions would run wild after that. She had been pretty normal before, but after, she could go from calm to a jealous rage in five seconds. And of course her nose would balloon up. I learned early on not to laugh or snicker when it happened, it would just make her angrier. But, come on, what was I supposed to do? You saw it. It’s funny. Someone getting angry and their nose swelling up? It’s comic.”
Winn snickered. “I was too surprised when I saw it to laugh,” he said. “But hearing you talk about it, yeah, it’s funny.”
“Maybe I should have stuck it out with her, but it was just too weird. I think I could have gotten used to the nose thing, but the wild mood swings – nah. I’m not that kind of guy. I don’t respond well to drama. So I dumped her pretty hard, and you saw she was still bitter about it.”
“But she still helped us.”
“Because she stepped in her own shit and felt guilty for it,” Marty replied. “Up until then I wasn’t sure she would. What about you? You’re sixteen now, you got a girlfriend?”
“Two,” Winn said. “And a boyfriend.”
“Oh!” Marty said, a little taken back. “So, wait, you have two girlfriends? Isn’t that a little dangerous?”
“So far so good,” Winn said. “I’ve been completely up front with them. No promises. They keep coming back for more, and I don’t say no.”
Marty looked like he didn’t know how to respond.
“Same with the guy,” Winn added.
“With the guy?” Marty asked.
“Yeah, with the guy I’m seeing,” Winn said. “Same arrangement. No promises. Seems to work.”
“Wait,” Marty said, looking confused. “This is a guy who’s a friend of yours?”
“Well, I thought we were talking about people we were seeing? Like dating?”
“Yeah, that’s what I meant,” Marty said, still confused. “You mean, you’re seeing three different people, two of which are girls, and one who’s a guy?”
“Yeah.”
Marty looked flabbergasted.
“What?” Winn asked.
“I just…” Marty stammered. “Well, I don’t know. I just wasn’t expecting that answer, that’s all.”
“You look a little shocked, Marty,” Winn said, smiling. “You didn’t think I would be dating so many people?”
“Well, if I’m being honest, yes, I expected you to tell me you were dating some cute little girl from school, and that things were going well, something along those lines.”
“And I’d given her my letterman jacket and we were talking about going to the same college together?” Winn said.
“I guess I’m old fashioned. I was kinda expecting that, yes.”
“So 1980s, Marty,” Winn said.
“Well, at least you’re a kid who gets dates. I didn’t do any real dating until I was out of school. Was too focused on my studies. I was always kind of jealous of the kids who seemed to have such an easy time meeting people and going out. Wasn’t really my thing.”
“When did you meet Rita?” Winn asked.
“Senior year of college. She was an undergraduate in a microbiology class I had. She was alarmingly beautiful. We had thirty good years together, before her cancer. I hope you meet someone as perfect for you as she was for me. And you have a long time together.”
“I don’t know,” Winn replied wistfully. “I mean, I know it was good for you and Rita, but I’m not sure about that for me. I don’t like feeling committed or boxed in. Like with Brent. I want to be free of him.”
“Brent is a whole different thing,” Marty replied. “When you meet someone you want to spend the rest of your life with, someone you care deeply about, then you’ll know what I mean. Brent’s not someone like that. You weren’t in love with him. He’s just someone you feel guilty about, who’s become a monster.”
“Maybe,” Winn said, no sense of conviction coming through. He thought of Ida, and how Marty had ditched her when she became a monster, too.
“Maybe.”
▪ ▪ ▪
Marty pulled his car off the side of the road, onto a short and bumpy driveway that looked like it hadn’t been used in years. They stepped out of the Caddy and looked around.
“There’s a house way down there,” Marty said, pointing. “But other than that, this place is pretty isolated.” They looked around in all directions, seeing nothing but flat land. Then they turned to the house. Ida had been right; it looked as though it might fall down at a moment’s notice. It was big for an old house. It was three stories tall, with an attic above. All of the windows had been boarded over with planks, not plywood. Paint had long ago peeled and blown away. A set of steps leading to the front door had collapsed, leaving no easy access to the porch, which had large holes in its floorboards.
The sun was directly overhead, and Winn could smell the old wood of the house as it baked. A slight breeze came by, and while he enjoyed the relief it brought from the heat, he was chilled by the creaking sound it made the house produce.
“Do you think it’s safe to go in there? Really?” Winn asked.
“If Ida’s right, it’s safe,” Marty replied. “The ghost is making it look dangerous to keep people away.”
“Do you think we’re in the vortex right now?” Winn asked. “Or do we have to go inside to be in it?”
“I don’t know. I have no idea how vortexes work. Let’s walk around back and see if we can find the entrance she spoke of.”
They walked through sagebrush toward the back, observing the structure as they went. Winn could feel the house looming over him, making him feel small. Even in its dilapidated state it was impressive in size.
“I’m surprised it hasn’t been vandalized,” Marty said. “You’d expect graffiti at least.”
They turned the corner of the house and saw a black spray-painted message scrawled along the back of the house, over a basement window. It said, “Don’t go in.”
“Spoke too soon,” Marty said.
“If it was the owners, they’d just put up ‘No Trespassing’ signs, right?” Winn asked. “This is more of a warning from someone like us.”
“We don’t know that for sure,” Marty said.
Winn walked up to the basement window just under the spray paint. It was covered by four long planks. He reached for one of them and pulled – it came off easily. Behind, the window had no pane of glass. It was a straight shot into the basement.
Winn stopped for a moment and dropped into the River, the board he’d just pried loose still in his hands. Once he was in the flow, he looked around and at the house, letting himself drift up from the window and to the
roof. Nothing looked different or odd, but he felt something, coming from the board in his hands. He tried to enter the house by slipping through the roof, but found that he was stopped at the wooden shingles, just as if he was physically trying to walk through a wall. Obviously protected, he thought, and lowered himself back down to his body. Before he left the flow, he felt the board again – there was something there, a vibration coming from it that he’d never felt before. He dropped out.
He tossed the board aside and reached for the next one, which came free as easily as the first. Once he had all four boards removed, he turned to Marty. “You coming?” he asked.
“Sure, if you want,” Marty said. “This first, though.” He reached into his back pocket and produced a flask. He handed it to Winn. “Two mouthfuls.”
Winn took it from him and removed the cap. He raised it to his lips and swallowed twice, wincing.
“I think you just contributed to the delinquency of a minor,” he said, handing the flask back to Marty.
“I guess technically I did,” Marty said, raising it to his mouth and drinking. “But Ida said to take protection, so we’d better follow her guidance.” He slipped the flask back into his back pocket, and as Winn made his way into the window, Marty pulled out a mini mag flashlight and handed it to him.
Winn looked at it, wondering if it was the same one Marty loaned him when he and Brent explored the cave years ago. It looked the same. He bent down and slipped through the opening and into the basement. Marty followed.
It was dusty. Although sunlight was streaming through the open window and through cracks between the boards covering other windows, it wasn’t enough light to make Winn comfortable, and he turned on his flashlight. He began shining it around the open room, looking for the stairwell.
Movement, everywhere.
“Jesus Christ!” Marty exclaimed. “There’s people down here!” He turned on his light and aimed it at the walls and walkways. He could see people shuffling out of the beam of light, just fast enough that he couldn’t land the light directly on them.
Winn felt his heart rate increase and panic set in. He hadn’t expected other people to be in the house, and he wasn’t sure how they’d take to him and Marty barging in. He walked to Marty, who had his back up against a wooden support post.
“Turn off your light,” Winn said, turning off his own.
The room went dark again. They strained their eyes, but everything looked still.
Winn dropped into the River, expecting to see a room full of ghosts, just like the cave. But there was nothing – just dust floating in the little streams of light that passed through the cracks in the windows.
He turned his light back on, and Marty grabbed his arm when he saw the people, just outside of the light’s radius. They were zombie-like, wandering aimlessly, seemingly unfocused.
“It’s the vortex,” Marty whispered to Winn. “We’re inside it now.”
“I thought the protection we drank was supposed to help!” Winn whispered back.
“It probably is working. It might be the reason they’re not attacking us right now. They don’t even seem to know – or care – that we’re here.”
“Are they even real?” Winn asked, disturbed that he could see through them to other people and the walls of the basement.
“Might not be,” Marty said. “Might be an illusion. Part of the vorghost’s defenses perhaps.”
Winn was terrified to see all of the figures turn toward them simultaneously. “Not an illusion,” they all spoke in unison, but it sounded like one voice, echoing. “We are the people whose souls are trapped here because we came without a purpose.”
“Winn!” Marty cried, and Winn turned to look at Marty, who was now several feet away from him, sliding backward on the floor of the basement away from him. Marty reached up to grab at Winn, and Winn reached out, making contact with Marty’s hands. He tried to stop Marty’s movement, but couldn’t.
Winn tugged on Marty, but Marty kept sliding away. When he reached a wall of the basement, Marty’s back pressed up against it, and then he began to disappear into the ground. Winn saw his feet drop into the flooring, then his ankles, and eventually his lower legs. Winn tugged, trying to pull Marty free from the floor, but it was as though Marty was in quicksand, and the more he struggled the more he sank.
“Oh god,” Marty said, his knees slipping below the floor. “Not like this! Please! Not like this!”
Winn put all of his strength into pulling Marty, afraid he might pull his arms from his sockets.
“Wait,” Marty said. “It’s slowing!”
They watched as Marty’s descent stopped, and the ground around his legs solidified just above his knees.
Winn let go of Marty’s arms and dropped to the ground. He used the flashlight to illuminate the concrete around Marty’s legs – it was solid, as though Marty had been buried in cement as it had dried. There was no way to remove him without getting a pickaxe and chipping him out.
“I shouldn’t have come in with you,” Marty said. “This isn’t my mission. It’s yours. Come back after you’ve done what you need to do. There’s a chance it’ll release me then.”
“What, just leave you here?” Winn said, desperation in his voice.
“What choice do you have? I’m not getting out of this. It doesn’t want me with you while you do this.”
“I could leave. Go back out the window.”
“That isn’t why we came here,” Marty said. “There’s a reason it’s buried my legs, Winn. Left you free so you could try to pull me out of the mess, just like you tried to save Brent, but couldn’t. It already knows why you’re here. Go on, finish this business, then come back. Hopefully when it knows we’re leaving it’ll let me go with you.” Marty reached into his back pocket and removed the flask. He opened it and took a sip, then capped it and passed it to Winn. “Here, take this with you. I’ll be fine here. It’s not going to do anything to me, it just wants you solo. I’ll be fine. Go on.”
“Jesus, Marty, this wasn’t the plan,” Winn said, taking the flask. “I hate leaving you.”
“No choice, buddy,” Marty said, wiggling in place. “Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be here when you get back.” He smiled.
“Alright, if you’re sure.”
“I’m sure. Go.”
“I’ll come back, as soon as I find it. I won’t leave you.”
“I know you won’t,” Marty said. “I’ve got the car keys.” He smiled again.
As frightened as Winn was to abandon Marty, he turned and looked back into the basement, searching for the stairs that would lead him to the main level. This time as he moved his flashlight around, he couldn’t see people in the periphery. It made him think he must be doing the right thing, he must he on the right track. There were short walls that partitioned part of the basement, and he walked around them, trying to find the stairwell. Eventually he had covered the entire basement, and he found himself back where Marty was sunk in the ground.
“Can’t find it!” Winn said to Marty. “Can’t find a stairwell. Maybe it’s hiding it from my view?”
“There has to be some way to get up there. Ida said you work your way up through each level until you reach the attic. Search again, but look up at the ceiling this time. Look for a door or a chute – anything that looks like it goes up.”
Winn started again, following the same search pattern he’d used the last time. As he walked, he kept the flashlight on the ceiling, trying to see through pipes and cobwebs that lined the underside of the floor above them, between large beams that seemed to run the length of the house. He couldn’t find anything that looked like a door, and he was beginning to think the house was playing a trick on him, deliberately hiding the stairs so that he couldn’t find it, when he came across an opening in the ceiling, hidden away near a corner. It looked just over two feet wide by eighteen inches, almost too small to enter. That can’t be it, he thought. It’s too small. I’ll never fit in there.
<
br /> He made his way back to Marty. “I found a chute. Looks like it goes up.”
“Good!” Marty said. “Go for it!”
“It’s small. I’m not sure I can even get into it.”
“Must be something like a laundry chute. If you haven’t found any other way, then that’s got to be it. You’re got to try.”
Winn sighed. “Alright. If I make it through, I guess this is it until I come back.”
“Go!” Marty said. “The sooner you get it done, the sooner I can get out of this!”
Winn left Marty and returned to the corner where he found the chute. He got under it and shined the flashlight up into it – it seemed to go on forever, and it looked small. Too small.
He needed a few extra feet to reach it, so he glanced around the room. There were two wooden crates nearby. When he dragged them into position under the chute, he got the feeling this was not the first time the crates had been used for this purpose.
The crates gave him enough height to raise his arms and shoulders up into the chute. There was nothing to grab onto, so he had to use pressure between his arms and his back. He jumped from the crates, and then pressed his back into place, feeling his legs dangling under him.
I won’t be able to stay this way for long, he thought. If I don’t get my legs up into the chute quick, I’ll lose what strength I have.
He used his arms to slide his back further up the chute, bringing his waist and legs into it. The smooth wood of the chute was just inches from his face, making him feel claustrophobic. Panic began to overtake him as he felt the chute was closing in on him, becoming smaller and smaller the higher he went. He looked down, trying to see the dim light at the bottom of the chute.
I could just let go and slide back down, he thought. If it becomes too much, I can escape like that. Straight down and into the basement. I might not have enough strength to climb back up again, but at least I can get out if I have to. It isn’t like I’m sealed up in here.
He watched in horror as the light at the bottom of the chute slowly lessened until it became black. Something had covered over the bottom of the chute, and he was left in total darkness. He looked above him - it was as dark as it was in front of his face.
The Impossible Coin (The Downwinders Book 2) Page 16
