by Nancy Widrew
Stalagmites and stalactites, almost in a line, separated the living room from the dining room nearby, with its large wooden table. She walked over. On closer inspection, she could see that the table consisted of two ordinary doors placed side by side atop four sawhorses. Circling it were plain, aluminum fold-up chairs, beginning to rust.
Having gotten her bearings, she turned to the others, mesmerized by her mere existence, staring at her as if she had two heads. Screw you, she thought, crossing her arms as she tried convincing herself that this would turn out just peachy: Jeremy getting his big story—his lucky break—and she her trip to Bermuda, dining on guinea-chick lobster.
The adults wandered off, unnerved by her aggressive posturing, but left behind two children. Both had odd, filmy eyes with red, dilated blood vessels running through the sclera. Like Rahm and Rachel, they also had gazes tracking at the periphery then moving slowly inward. Wondering if they could be blind, Karen raised her hand above her head, and they both moved their eyes correctly, answering her question.
“Why did you do that?” the smaller of the two asked. He appeared to be three-and-a-half, perhaps four, with white hair down to his shoulders. At first Karen mistook him for a girl, but on closer inspection, along with taking in those streaks of dirt running down his face and under his pointy nose, she corrected herself.
Embarrassed, Karen hesitated. “I was wondering if you could see.”
“We see like bats,” he answered. “That’s what Mommy says.”
“Actually,” interrupted the older boy, “Jon is kind of blind. He can see shadows and detect movement, but that’s about all; still, he can find anything faster than anyone else. As for me, I see pretty good, but not as good as I used to. I’m starting to find things almost as quickly as Jon though. How well can you see?”
“Usually fine, although in this light, it’s more difficult.”
The two boys came closer, and Karen narrowed her own eyes into slits. The china-whiteness of the older boy’s face unnerved her, but the nearly translucent skin of the younger one caused a visceral reaction. She thought she could see the blood pulsing beneath, but told herself she must have imagined it. Still, she felt a wave of nausea and looked away.
“You sick?” asked Jon.
Taking a deep breath, Karen looked again. She immediately regretted it. Not only could she see his blood, bright red along with a deeper, almost purple shade coursing through veins and capillaries, she could make out the outline of his skull. “I think I’d better sit down,” she said.
“Come with me,” said the older boy. “To my bedroom. You can sit there and rest too, ’cause it’s quieter. When I turn twelve next year, I’m getting my very own room. That’s what Rahm says. Now I have to share.” He led her down a passageway while Jon ran off in search of more playful pursuits.
“This is Suburbia,” he said with a sweep of his arm.
“‘Suburbia’?”
“Uh-huh. That’s what we call it—the place where people sleep. The main area—the living room, dining room, and kitchen is ‘Downtown.’ At least, that’s what the grownups call it. I call it ‘The Ballroom’ ’cause it’s got diamonds.”
“‘Diamonds’?”
“Well, not real ones. Just sparkly things in the walls.”
“Yes, I noticed,” said Karen. “It’s beautiful.”
The boy beamed like a proud host with his worldly goods on display and stuck out his right hand for Karen to shake. “My name is Randy. What’s yours?”
“Karen.”
“Nice to meet you,” he said, pushing a sheet across a rod to reveal a heavy-set, thirty-something woman. “Mom, this is Karen, my new friend.” The woman, sitting cross-legged on a mattress covered by a chewed-up, woolen blanket, was looking down at her lap, but shifted sideways to make room for her “guest.” Then remembering something from long ago, she reconsidered and said, “I can get you a folding chair if you’d rather—“
“No, that’s okay,” said Karen, lowering herself to the mattress while taking in the simple furnishings: two more mattresses, arranged asymmetrically to fit between stalagmites; seven crates containing personal items; a portable coat rack, sagging in the middle, which held miscellaneous clothes.
Karen bent forward, pushing in on her stomach with both fists. Feeling the nausea lift, she turned toward the stranger beside her, whose skin, although pale, was normal thank goodness.
“I’m Janet,” said the woman, introducing herself. Despite the slack flesh on both sides of her lower jaw, her face showed small, even features, remnants of the pretty, young girl she had once been. Now, however, she appeared as faded as the blanket her large rump rested on. Her dirty blond hair hung limp and stringy.
“I see you’ve met my son Randy,” she said. She turned her head in the same lopsided manner as the others, studying Karen with new interest. “You all right?” she asked, noticing Karen unconsciously massaging her stomach.
“I’m better now. Thank you.”
“Randy, why don’t you get Karen some water?” she said, anyway. Then curling a clump of hair around a finger, she whispered, “Rahm find you?”
“Yes and no,” said Karen. “We sort of found each other.”
“That man … the cute one … he your husband?”
Karen shrugged, surmising she meant Jeremy, who’d been flitting about like a kid chasing a ball.
“Sure is nice looking. Haven’t seen too many lately.” The small laugh, coming from deep in her throat, held the suggestion of a cry. “My husband, Tom—been dead two years now.”
Karen looked down at her feet. “I’m sorry,” she said.
“Don’t be. I’m glad. He’s buried over there.” Raising a fleshy arm, she pointed off into the distance.
Karen followed the outstretched arm, grateful to see Jeremy walking toward them to rescue her from an uncomfortable moment. His words and voice, effervescent and growing louder, filled the empty space with a blast of enthusiasm.
“I’ve just got the interview of the year,” he blurted. “Did you know there’s a whole society down here? The lake is huge. I wouldn’t believe it if I didn’t see it myself. Rahm’s practically a king—a god. There’s even three people buried here.”
“Three?” said Karen, jerking her head back, her slack-mouthed expression between a question and a scowl.
Janet nodded. “In addition to my husband, there’s Eugene and Louise. They were married before coming here. Happy marriage, best I could tell, but bad karma rained down, killing all three together. Imagine that!” She hiccupped a plaint as if she couldn’t believe it were true. “Now there’s only one married couple left—Mary and Brian. Mary’s religious, believes in sin and all that. Otherwise she’d have dumped him down the toilet long ago. Hates his guts.”
“That so,” said Karen, eyeballing Jeremy. “Well, marriage is sacred, at least to me. But those people that died … How? What happened?”
Janet tensed and began to stutter. “I-I …”
Sensing trouble, Jeremy broke in. Afraid Janet might clam up and end the interview, he shot his wife a warning before turning back to Janet. “Maybe you could just fill us in on everyone’s background. Why’d you all come here? In case Karen didn’t mention it, I’m writing an article for a newspaper.”
Janet relaxed and enjoying the attention, the words flew from her mouth. “A newspaper? You don’t say.” She stretched her legs and settled into a comfortable position. “We’re a bit of everything, I suppose. You know—this and that. Rahm says we shouldn’t dwell on the past. That it isn’t healthy, and I suppose he knows best; still some things are hard to forget. Don’t you think?”
“Yes, certainly,” said Karen, invoking all she left behind when moving to Baltimore.
Janet smiled, flattered to have someone agree with her. “What’s important is keeping busy and we all do our share—that is, everyone except Helene. She’s from a stinking rich family: best schools, best everything. Spoiled rotten, if you ask me.”
> “Why’d she come?”
“David, I suppose. He’s her screwed-up boyfriend, and I don’t like him much either. Too strange for my taste if you know what I mean.” She raised an eyebrow, casting what she presumed to be a meaningful look. “But with you here today, things will change fast.” She hurried on, before innuendos could take root.
“Let’s see. There’s Rachel and Rahm, of course. I suppose you’d like to know about them.”
“Yes, please,” said Jeremy. Poised for something sensational, he flipped his memo pad to a clean page, but the earth-shattering expose he had hoped for soon sank like flotsam.
“Hmm,” said Janet. “Now that I think about it, I know very little.” Her eyes opened at the revelation, and she turned to Jeremy who mimicked her response. “All I can tell you is Rachel’s from out West. Belonged to some wacky cult. She often sprouts off about meditation and other transcendental stuff. I don’t pay too much attention to her.
“As for Rahm”—she threaded her fingers and twiddled her thumbs—“I know even less. He did serve in Vietnam with Norman. He’s one of the other men here. Anyway, Rahm doesn’t like to talk about himself. That’s not even his real name—not Rahm, not Abraham.”
“Did he commit a crime?” asked Jeremy, still hoping for some hidden nugget. “Is that why he changed it?”
“It’s possible, but you’d have to ask him yourself. I sure won’t! Now, let’s see. That leaves just Lily. She and Norman share a room. I like them okay. Lily’s straight from the Bible belt. Church Sundays, evenings too. She says she’s a nonbeliever now, but that’s just a crock. She still gets uptight on the subject of sex. That doesn’t keep her from having it, though.”
“So Lily and Norman are a couple,” said Karen.
Janet raised her hand, palm down, slightly rocking it. “Sort of,” she said. “Lily’s indifferent, but Norman worships her. I don’t know how he wound up here since he’s a big-city boy. From Brooklyn, originally. His momma raised him with fire and brimstone—or so he tells us—but now he’s a skeptic, like Lily. At least, they have that in common.”
“What about you?” said Jeremy.
“Me?” Janet shrugged as if surprised to be asked. “I’m from Nebraska. Mom was a housewife. Dad a salesman. Traveled a lot. One sister, one dog. See? Nothing special.” She dug her heel into the ground as if expecting to hit some infallible truth. When nothing significant appeared, she said, “I’m no longer sure what I believe except for the fertility gods, of course.”
“The what?” said Jeremy.
“The fertility gods!” she repeated, raising her voice as if he were both deaf and addlebrained. She pulled out a necklace from under her shirt, a piece of rock with an irregular shape, dangling from a thin cord. She rubbed it. “For good luck,” she said. “But so far the gods haven’t listened too closely—at least not to the others. I’m the lucky one; they listened to me.”
“You mean Randy?” said Jeremy.
“Yes, and Jon too.”
Karen eyes rounded like matched bowling balls. “I didn’t realize Jon’s also your son. That they’re brothers.”
“Actually,” explained Janet, “I think they’re half-brothers. Randy was born in a hospital in Charleston. He was six when we came here. My dead husband’s his father. I’m not sure who Jon’s father is. He does resemble Rahm though, don’t you think?”
“But your husband would have still been alive,” said Karen, furrowing her brow.
Noting her reaction, Janet lowered her head in a placating bow. “You see, it’s very difficult to get pregnant here. We don’t know why. Maybe it’s toxins in the air or the water. There’s tons of minerals in this place—calcite in particular. Or maybe it’s just the will of the gods.” She automatically rubbed her necklace again. “But whatever the problem, Jon’s the only child who’s been conceived and born below. Our fertility room is in the same passageway leading to the cemetery.”
“There’s a—a fertility room?”
“That’s right. In the beginning, it was for privacy, more or less, but now it’s to insure that rituals are properly followed. At Rachel’s insistence.”
“What rituals?”
Slipping beyond her comfort zone, Janet avoided Jeremy’s eyes. “At mid-cycle, the women drop everything to be with the gods. Rachel offers the blessings, chants prayers, and lights the incense. Then the men come to fulfill their obligation. Nothing seems to help though, and everyone’s feeling the strain since without children we’ll die out. I’m okay since I have my boys, but I often hear others cry out in their sleep. Right now Helene’s there, and I suspect that’s why I haven’t seen Brian and Norman today.”
Jeremy tried not to snicker. Still, unable to resist, he said, “Maybe I should give it a shot, for the sake of on-the-job-experience, of course.”
After thumbing her nose at his wisecrack, Karen shifted the conversation back to that troubling question—the one Janet couldn’t or wouldn’t answer. “I hope I’m not being pushy,” she said, “but the people that died … Were they also infertile? Sick?” Is there some connection?”
Janet swallowed, gulped air. “Oh no. Nothing like that. You see, there was an accident. A terrible accident.” She opened her mouth to say more, but as if sensing a menacing presence along with a warning, closed it, tightening her lips in a seal.
Karen, misinterpreting Janet’s behavior, reached over and patted her knee. “I didn’t mean to upset you,” she said. Then hearing the scuff of a shoe, she turned to see Rahm staring down, appraising the situation with a chess champion’s strategic skill.
“Forgive me,” he said, addressing the young couple. “I’ve been a poor host, but there were pressing matters to address. Anyway, it looks like you’ve managed without me—thanks to Janet here. Now, ready for that tour I promised?”
His words and tone sounded more like a command than a question, spurring Karen and Jeremy to rise and follow behind. Janet remained as they found her, sitting, dreaming, ruminating alone with her thoughts.
Chapter 5
With the help of strategically placed torches, the cave blazed like a cosmopolitan city at nightfall. “We’ve lit them for you,” said Rahm, pointing to a flaming light above. “Normally, we only have a few going—often none at all since we find they’re not really necessary. See the wool on the end? Makes a great wick. Burns nice and slow.”
Karen expressed a need for a bathroom, making that their first stop. A raised, bare-bones structure, resting on wooden planks, showcased the obvious. Holes, cut into the pine, allowed for human waste to fall into a trench below, and water, seeping from a nearby crevice, served as faucets. Rahm pointed out a cabinet with soap and toilet paper, and then moved away to allow for privacy. Hating latrines, Karen gritted her teeth, afraid of falling in, and swore to never complain about cleaning her bathroom again.
They circled back along minor passageways, the equivalent of side streets in a town. By the time they reemerged in the communal area, both Karen and Jeremy had lost all sense of direction. Taking hold of their elbows, Rahm lead them to a pit, dug into the ground, surrounded by cinder blocks with a metal grid across the top. Brown, fibrous matter—“Peat,” he explained— burned with a red-blue flame, heating a Dutch oven hanging above. While Rahm’s nose twitched in delight, the couple recoiled when Rahm disclosed that the simmering meal was his favorite: salamander and worm stew.
Sick of the sights, the smells, Karen moved on to the pantry where unfinished pine boards, separated by bricks, stocked a wide assortment of non-perishable foods in cans and plastic containers. Farther off, crates and shelves held bedding and household items. She wandered among coat racks where pants, shirts, and jackets hung in graduated sizes for children and adults. The amount was impressive.
Rahm explained it had taken years to amass the supplies, lowering them in dumbwaiters and scaffolds, or in some cases merely allowing them to fall from cliffs. Then when the last item had been checked off, the group’s diehards threw an all-night be
nder in a grungy neighborhood bar, knowing they had reached their goal and there’d be no turning back for anyone.
Rahm scratched an ear as if delaying a confession. “While I wish it were different, we’re still not totally free from the outside world. I, along with one of the others, go above when critical supplies run low.”
Jeremy noted the disclosure, asked how often, but before Rahm could reply two men approached, exchanging good-hearted back slapping like boys in a locker room. Rahm made cursory introductions.
Both men were tall with full beards. The older, Brian, was stocky and almost completely bald. His stomach poked through the space between his shirt and pants whenever he raised his hands, which was often since he made wide flailing gestures when he spoke. His voice, loud and pressured, permeated the surroundings and bounced off the walls like peals of a gong.
The other man, Norman, seemed his opposite: slim, pensive, quiet, but beneath his bushy mustache eyebrows, his dark stare appraised the new couple as if they were running for some best-in-show competition.
Karen’s hand rose to her throat.
Prudently, Rahm said, “Let’s move on. We’ve only one more place to see.”
As the threesome headed off, Karen turned to see Brian and Norman nudging each other with pointy elbows. Feeling their eyes on her body, she fastened the top button on her shirt.
They scaled up an incline with Rahm in the lead, his presence being the couple’s sole link to the safety of the outside world. Karen, aware of her dependence, swallowed fear as she scrambled between boulders, all the while paying careful attention to directives. Jeremy, however, remained too excited to pace himself. He stumbled and cursed as jagged edges braised his shin.
