John sauntered over to the gate, carefully arranging the lock so it would appear locked.
He came back over and we started to search for the perfect spot.
The dump was an interesting place. I was thinking it was gonna smell trashy. There was some of that, but the acute trash smell was long-gone. The refuse station had been closed since I was little back when recycling became mandatory, with trash penalties and stuff. There just weren't that many dumps in service anymore.
There was a butt-load of tires and old cars and the appliances! It was insane!
Jonesy was thrilled with everything, touching and opening all of it.
John and I let Jonesy explore, while we stayed on a semi-clear path that meandered and wound through huge hills of broken and beaten cars. Old appliances lined the “road” on either side.
He looked inside a huge, commercial style freezer. “Hold on a sec... I've got an idea.”
“What?” I asked.
“I think... that if these cars,” he looked up from our vantage point of being at the base of the “hill” of cars, “weren't compressed all the way, we may be able to make a 'doorway',” he made a large rectangular outline with his fingers of a doorway, “using one of these old fridges, kick the back out and find some space behind it that we can use.”
He folded his arms across his chest and let me think it through. I looked over at the long line of appliances. Maybe one didn't even have a back anymore? I slowly nodded.
“Good, huh?”
“Yeah, let's get the Jonester over here and lay it on him.”
“Jonesy,” I yelled.
“What?!” came the muffled reply.
I turned to John. “Where is he?”
John shrugged.
Suddenly, a head popped out of an old car.
“Come on, stop dickin' around and get over here.”
Jonesy shot his leg out and booted the car door open, its protesting creak piercing the quiet with a squealing groan.
John cringed at Jonesy's subtlety.
Jonesy trotted over and rubbed a hand over his face, covering it with grime. I looked closer. It was like grease, great.
“You've got grease on your face now,” John said.
“I do? Oh well, whatever. I've got soap at home.”
I told Jonesy the plan.
“Hot damn! What are we waiting for? Let's tear these babies open!”
We separated, searching each one. Finally, there was an ugly pink fridge with a clear handle, that looked to have a car emblem embedded in the handle. Weird.
John looked critically at it, circling around the thirty percent that showed.
“Good size,” he stroked the top that he could barely reach. It was a behemoth, bigger than some of the fancy fridges that were in restaurants. John whistled at Jonesy and he walked over from inspecting an avocado-colored beauty.
John slowly opened the fridge; it was deep, probably two feet plus. A perimeter of internal rust edged the interior all along the back. Rust-like lace spread out from the corners in a spider web of burnt orange. Jonesy stepped forward and tore out the two shelves that hung cattywampus inside, making them sail like Frisbees over John's head.
“Hey! Watch it,” John said, ducking.
“Hold your shorts, Terran, you'll live.”
“Kick out the back Jonesy,” I said.
He turned his head and looked at me. “Duh.”
Jonesy did a super graceful dance kick where he sorta hops, then jumps, bending his knee and swinging it out at the same time. A ripple appeared where his foot had struck, the back buckling.
Jonesy did another strike and the buckle widened from top to bottom.
“Come on Jonesy, I thought you were all-that-is-boy,” John antagonized.
“I,” kick, thunk, whack, “am!” The whole back gave, splitting open into the dark.
John, of the ever-prepared, whipped out his LED light, where a dim spiral wove a murky path through the gloom.
“Come on, let's go.”
And in we went.
There was only enough room to crawl, it was dusty and we were a sneezing, wheezing mess. I crawled about another eight feet, turning my head. “This isn't going to work.”
John lit a match. “If there isn't enough oxygen, this match won't stay lit.”
We all stared at the light of the match, wavering and uncertain, but burning bright, like a beacon.
“Okay so what now?” Jonesy asked.
“There's enough oxygen this far back that I think this tunnel here might open up into a bigger space. Keep moving.”
Jonesy and I crawled forward on our hands and knees, for about three more minutes. I was losing track of how long it had been when it narrowed. I belly crawled and twisted through the last bit and...it opened up enough for me to stand up, the LED light gripped firmly between my teeth. Slowly, I took it out and looked around. It was big... real big.
John said, “Wow.”
That about covered it. Everywhere around us were cars that were compacted in huge stacks. Several were precariously perched above our heads, acting like a ceiling. I wasn't worried, I figured they'd been like that for a decade and they weren't ever gonna come down.
“Come on morons, stop gawking and haul me out of here!”
John and I turned around, and sure enough, Jonesy was wedged in the part of the “tunnel” that had been a real twister to get out of. John barked out a laugh that made Jonesy do a death glare.
“I like it,” John said.
“We can't get out if he's in the way, smart one,” I said.
John sighed. “You're right, but it was fun while it lasted.”
We each pulled one arm, counted to three and jerked him out like an eel out of an oil can.
Jonesy grabbed his knees and stood up, brushing the dirt off his jeans.
“Thanks for the help, guys,” Jonesy delivered sarcastically.
He looked around appreciatively. “This is just the guy-cave we had in mind.”
John took out another LED light and turned it on to join mine.
“Where are you getting all the lights,” Jonesy asked. “And how did you know the combo for the lock?”
“Yeah, what he said.”
“I read some documentary about pre-pulse security. They said sometimes at commercial sites the numbered addresses were used backwards, or the last for digits of the phone number.”
“You mean, ding-a-ling?”
“Yeah, Jonesy, actual non-pulse phones,” John said.
“Why is this here?” I asked, indicating the big bubble room of forgotten cars.
“It's like I was hoping. There would be a pocket of space that was trapped, something they missed,” John said.
“The workers missed?” Jonesy asked.
“Yeah. Just think of that job; all day long smashing cars, trying to remember where you did it last. It'd be a bitch to keep track of, thinking you're at the bottom. When, really, you missed a spot.”
“How would you know?” Jonesy asked.
“I didn't, I guessed. When Caleb wanted to do the hideout here I thought it might be a possibility.”
“How do the girls get back here?” I asked.
“Girls!”
“Come off it Jonesy, Jade, Sophie and Tiff are included.”
“There's Bry and maybe Alex too.”
Huh, we were getting a group I told them.
“We can do it,” John said.
“Does your mom still have that camping gear?” John asked Jonesy.
“Yeah, we haven't camped much, why?”
“Light?” I said, guessing.
“Yeah. I don't think we need heat, but if we can get a lantern and propane bottle we could have a halfway decent place.” John fingered his chin thoughtfully.
He looked at me.
“What now?”
Jonesy grinned. “I think John is thinking we need some zombie action.”
Geez.
“What do we have to do?”
>
“We need to widen this some. No big deal,” Jonesy said easily.
Jonesy's ideas were always a big deal.
“I agree with Jonesy, we just widen this tight spot,” John pointed to the squeeze that had stymied Jonesy's progress, “and we put them back.”
I put them back.
He twisted his upper body, turning toward Jonesy. “What do you think, it's a one or two zombie job?”
“Hey! Don't ask him, they're my zombies,” I said.
John turned away, smiling. He got down in the mouth of the entrance to the tunnel, turning the LED light on, checking it out. Then he turned it off, standing, “We leave LEDs here so as soon as we return we can set up our stuff.”
John told us we'd need a lantern, propane, a couple of blankets and some milk crates.
“Where are we gonna get those?” Jonesy asked.
I didn't have a clear picture of what a milk crate was.
“Here. It's a dump, after all.”
“What are those gonna be for?” Jonesy asked.
“Tables, chairs, storage, whatever,” John said.
“Okay, let's get out of here before it gets too late,” I said.
We crawled out of the tight tunnel the way we came in: slowly.
Jonesy had the most trouble.
He finally climbed out, arching his back.
“We gotta remember that these old freezers are not safe, they self-lock.”
“What do ya mean?” Jonesy asked.
“We close the door from the inside and we're screwed.”
We looked at him.
“Back in the day, kids would play hide-and-seek, hide inside, accidentally close the door... and...”
“I never heard of that,” I said.
“Yeah, you wouldn't. We don't have bogus stuff like that now. Hell, they make up committees of people just to think up safety features,” John said. “Anyway, we gotta put a door stop in there so we don't lock ourselves in and get busy dying.”
Nice, John. Don't say that in front of the girls.
“Okay, whatever but,” and Jonesy laid his finger up, almost in John's face, “we need to keep it open in a way people don't notice.”
“Right,” John conceded.
We stood there quietly.
“Let's just use a piece of cardboard, slam it into the door and the...” I waved my hand around, “jamb-thing won't self-lock.”
John nodded. “It's not complicated. We make an escape hatch that doesn't make our hideaway a big coffin.”
We agreed.
“I gotta get home and take care of Onyx.”
“Yeah, let's not get the parents all interested in what we're doing,” Jonesy said.
“My parent's don't give a crap as long as that 4.0 GPA is still there,” John said.
I guess I was lucky that Dad wasn't bringing the hammer down on me since I barely got “C's.”
We walked out of the dump and through the gate.
Jonesy stopped outside of the gate and looked at John. “You're kinda a putz not to let us know about the lock thing.”
John grinned. “Yeah, but I wanted to see if you'd climb it. Even Caleb did.”
It wasn't easy.
Jonesy said, “Remember: A) we have a hideaway now, B) we have a plan for next Friday, D) we have girls to protect from...”
“That would be C, Jonesy,” John interjected.
“Whatever. And C,” he nodded to John, “we have Girls to Protect.”
“Protect from what?” I asked.
“I don't know... whatever.”
“You get kinda squirrely when we get in tight spots,” I reminded.
“Right, but you have to remember that I'll protect the chicks. You... you're on your own.”
“Gee... thanks,” John said, without surprise.
We separated, biking to our respective houses.
Onyx knew I was coming and met me at the door.
His tail wagged like an ink spot in the middle of the doorway, eyes softly glowing in the twilight. He trotted to me as I came forward. I rubbed the bridge of his nose.
The Boy has returned and is pleased because he is a Good Dog. I will lick the Boy's hand.
Onyx gave a lick that was wet and slimy, he looked so happy I didn't have the heart to wipe the nasty dog goo off.
The Dog pressed his nose to the Boy's body and smelled very interesting smells; smells of real trash (tantalizing) and foul-smelling things that are on the metal boxes, earth and something old. Such good smells. He also smelled the other Boys. What had the Boy done?
“Good dog. Gooooood dog,” I said, scratching the sweet spot.
Wag, thunk, wag.
I walked in through the door, greeting The Parents. Mom had her nose buried in her dedicated reader and Dad was taking notes (with a pen!) from his pulse-top.
They looked up while Onyx trotted past, taking an experimental whiff of his food bowl, he didn't look sure.
Where is the person-who-feeds him, the Dog wondered? The food is here all the time. The Dog paused... was this a New Thing? He surveyed the pack. They did not seem to be interested in the food. This new thing was confusing. He would wait and see what the pack did.
I noticed that Onyx went and laid down on one of Gran's blankets. Mom had an endless supply of those.
“What were you up to all this time, pal?”
Going to the dump, exploring it illegally, finding a dangerous boy-cave so we could hide from the authorities.
Out loud I said, “Just screwing around, exploring.”
“That sounds about right,” Mom said, smiling.
“Sounds like the heat may be abating for the interim, Caleb.”
Mom looked on with interest but I wondered what Dad meant. Their expressions sometimes stumped me.
“I think, what Dad's saying is the government may no longer be interested in you.”
“That's not what interim means,” I said, guessing temporary.
“You're right, Caleb, I don't have a crystal ball. I don't know that they'll always not be interested. For now, we have a reprieve. But, if they find out you're not a two-point we're back to square one.”
“We agreed to take one day at a time, Kyle.”
“I agree, Hun, but let's be prepared for the inevitable.”
“They'll eventually find out,” I said.
Mom nodded, Dad said simply, “Yes.”
Oh well. “What's for dessert?”
Mom laughed. “Nothing stops the unmovable object.”
“What...?”
“Your appetite.” Dad laughed, obviously.
I didn't understand what was funny. I had to eat all the time, it's just the way it was.
“So... what's your plan for the weekend?” Mom asked.
I swallowed a huge mouthful of chocolate pudding. “I'm going to hang with Jade tomorrow night.” I looked up, thinking. “I guess not much Sunday. Oh! The Js and I are gonna explore...”
“...going to...” Mom corrected.
“...going to.” Brother, anyway,“Check out this cool, haunted house.”
That got Dad's full attention, the haunted word.
Dad stared at me for a second. Mom was doing the fish thing, her mouth opening and closing, gasping for air. I had that effect on my parents sometimes.
“This is not keeping a low profile, Caleb.”
“It was Jonesy's idea.” To cover for my friends I added, “but it doesn't mean cemeteries.”
Not really.
“Well, that may be; you're aware you can control ghosts. Haunting is another issue to contend with.”
I wasn't sure what the problem was, but I wasn't going to raise zombies so I figured it would be okay.
“Jonesy has some... interesting ideas,” Mom said.
She didn't know the half of it.
“But, he doesn't seem to think things through.”
Really?
“Just be careful, Caleb. We trust you. Keep in mind how wrong things went at Scenic with Gran,�
� Dad said.
I wouldn't forget that. Licking the spoon clean as I walked the dish over to the sink, I filled it with gray water to let it soak until Mom did dishes.
Onyx stood, shadowing me as I went to my bedroom. I flopped up on my bed, grabbing one of Mom's old books. It laid on my chest, unopened. Ideas whirled through my head. I needed to think of something for Jade and I to do tomorrow. This girlfriend thing was complicated and school was ending. We were gonna find out where we'd be next year this Monday. I knew we'd be going to KPH, but what about Jonesy? And Brett? I guess Kent Lake. But...what was Alex? After Carson's pyro show, I didn't want any more surprises.
I cracked open the book, feeling its hefty weight in my hands like a promise spoken, kept and realized.
CHAPTER 26
I woke up with something pressing into my rib cage, I pushed it onto the floor where it made a clunking sound. What? I looked at my floor, blurry-eyed, and saw that it was the book, which would normally have been cushioned by the fall with the clothes all over, but we had cleaned for cripe's sake, so now it had fallen like a bomb.
I lay back, groaning, my hand flung over my eyes. Suddenly, Onyx was there beside my bed his wet nose pressed against my face. A single lick. Gross.
The Boy seemed sad about something... the Dog restrained himself and gave the Boy a single lick, right after stuffing his nose on his Boy's face, inhaling the fragrant Boy smell. He would wag his tail and the Boy would notice and tell him the Good Word... he was sure.
I didn't want to hurt Onyx's feelings so I didn't wipe the dog-goo off. “That's a good dog, Onyx,” petting his soft head. That got his tail wagging, echoing on the wood floor. I laughed. “Okay, boy, okay.” and thought, you're a good dog.
The Boy had put the word-smells in his head and it sounded like the Good Word. The Dog wagged.
If Onyx wagged any harder it would take his butt off.
I swung my legs around and put them on the cold floor. Geez, maybe I needed a rug. Onyx stood, wagging. I searched the floor for something to wear. Looking around, I realized a crucial fact: being organized meant I couldn't find anything. Finally, in a drawer, I found one pair of clean socks. Eureka! I sighed, looking at the dirty clothes, which were now actually in the dirty clothes hamper (John's fault). I sorted through the thing, silently thanking Mom for not getting me anything white anymore, sorting colors was for fools. I mounded a huge pile of dirty clothes in my arms, Onyx rushing ahead. I stumbled down the steps, looking around the mound in my arms to keep my footing.
Destiny's Dark Fantasy Boxed Set (Eight Book Bundle) Page 27
