.” She stared at me. “Is this the accessory part of ole-time law and order?” “Just put some feeling into it.” I slipped the key in the door and unlocked it, opened and closed it, and then redeposited the ring back in my Carhartts just as Duane returned from the kitchen. He held the glass out to me, and I couldn’t help but notice that it looked yellow and smelled like sulphur; the sacrifices I made for my constituency. “Thanks.” I stopped just as I was about to drink and shifted my ear toward the basement door. “Hey, did you hear something?” Duane looked at me as he petted the dogs. “Nunh-uh.” Vic shrugged. I brought the glass back up to my lips and took a swig of what, indeed, tasted like ass. I swallowed and looked around, especially at the brunette. “I thought I heard something.” Duane shook his head. “Nunh-uh, maybe the wind?” I looked at Vic. “It sounded like somebody crying for help.” The young man pushed his greasy ball cap farther back onto his head. “I didn’t hear nothing.” Vic looked at Duane. “I didn’t either.” I studied the rusty liquid in the glass and took a deep breath as I raised it to my lips. “Well, I damn well better.” Duane continued to watch me, probably amazed that anyone would take a second drink of the water. I got smart this time and just held the glass to my lips and shot a glance at Vic, who covered her mouth for multiple reasons. She turned her head. “Help!” Duane turned to look at her. “What?” I gratefully placed the glass back into Duane’s hands and stepped forward, leaning an ear against the basement door. “I’m sure I heard it that time.” I twisted the knob as Duane’s voice called out from behind me. “That door’s locked, there’s nobody . . .” The door swung open, revealing a stairwell that turned at a landing below and continued to the left. There was a light switch to the right, just inside the doorway, and I flipped it on. The full force of heat and humidity wafted up from the basement as I took the first step down. “Duane, it sounds like there’s somebody in trouble down here, so I’m going to have a look, okay?” He moved to the doorway behind me, edging a little in front of Vic. “Nunh-uh, there’s nobody down there.” I raised a hand at his protests. “Vic, did you hear something?” “Maybe . . .” She tromped down the stairs behind me and whispered, “What’s my motivation?” Duane called after us. “Hey, there’s nobody down there, she just yelled that.” As I turned the corner at the landing, I looked back up at her. “What, were you going to make me drink the entire glass of water?” She smiled the crocodile smile. “I just wanted to see if you could do it.” There was another light switch attached to one of the basement support poles and a new, reinforced BX cable that strung on into the darkness. I put my hand on the switch as Duane joined us—it appeared the dogs wouldn’t come down the stairs. “Hey, you can’t go down there without a warrant thing.” I glanced back up at him. “Duane, I’ve got an emergency situtation, and you wouldn’t want me to ignore it if someone is down here and hurt, would you?” “Well, nunh-uh, but . . .” I flipped the switch and glanced around as I stepped onto the dirt floor. It was your usual old house basement with a low ceiling and rough-cut beams and antiquated wiring with porcelain insulators and cast iron pipes that arrived from above and disappeared below. There was an aged washer and dryer that sat in a corner, unplugged, along with an operating hot water heater and a massive, coal-driven furnace looking like a giant metal octopus with a large chute that led to an opening along the hand-stacked foundation. There was the usual junk piled against the walls along with an inordinate amount of gardening tools, supplies, and at least eight fifty-pound bags of fertilizer. A large blue tarp was tacked to the sill above and screwed into a four-by-four resting on the floor with a number of heavy-gauge extension cords disappearing underneath. As we stood there, the air pressure from whatever was on the other side billowed the plastic back toward us. Vic stuffed her hands in the pockets of her jacket and leaned against one of the support beams as Duane joined me, still holding the glass of putrid water. “I don’t see any snakes, Duane.” “They’re in the tunnel.” I gestured with my chin toward the blue plastic. “That way?” “Yunh-huh, but it’s caved in real bad. That’s why we’ve got the tarp over it.” I walked to the front of the opening and held my hand to the side where warm, moist air was escaping. I looked down and saw that two large eyelet bolts were screwed into the four-by-four and then up at two large hooks where the wood could be lifted and held in place. I stooped and, even with the pain in my rear, began lifting up the wood and consequently the tarp. Duane was at my side immediately and placed a hand on my arm. “Look, you can’t go in there, you gotta have a warrant to be . . .” “Duane, I’ve explained the situation and if you attempt to interfere with me any more, I’m going to ask my deputy over there to restrain you—and trust me, it’s something she really likes doing.” I threw a glance back at Vic, who lowered a boot to the floor and began moving toward us in a smooth but determined gait. Duane threw himself aside and sat on the bags of fertilizer; he was still holding the glass. “Fine, fuck it. Just go ahead and get it over with.” I raised the board and hooked it up as Vic joined me at the jagged opening in the basement wall where many a bandit and whoremonger had escaped the local constabulary. There were a few small indicator lamps strung out like landing lights, but that was all. The warmth and humidity hit like a wave, and we both stood there. I couldn’t see anything but thought that there must be a switch somewhere, so I raised a hand past Vic’s face and felt along the wall. It was there, and I flicked the heavy-duty toggle and watched as fluorescent lights throbbed on full with a monotone thrum. Vic, as usual, spoke first. “Well, fuck me.” We both leaned forward in absolute disbelief. Humidifiers and heaters ran the distance half the length of a football field with hydroponic lights cascading life-giving warmth and vitamin D onto four- foot-tall plants that grew as far as we could see. I turned my head and spoke out of the side of my mouth. “Is that what I think it is?” She nodded and looked back to where Duane sat at the opening of what looked to be the largest subterranean marijuana crop in history.
Craig Johnson Page 10
