by Ike Hamill
“Yes, and you’ll tell them,” said Marta.
“I will?”
“For a price,” she said. “Everyone gets that. One of two things will happen: either you’ll instantly be dismissed as a charlatan, or you’ll become fabulously wealthy.”
“Or both,” said Gregory.
“Right. Or both,” said Marta.
“So I just have to come up with a really good story,” said Gregory.
“Just outlandish. Doesn’t have to be good.”
“That might work,” said Gregory.
“I think it will,” said Marta. “People are completely dismissive of something as soon as they think they know what the angle is. You know? Put it on an informercial and the most revolutionary idea will seem mundane. You just need to come up with steps to follow and a price tag.”
“What would I say? I didn’t do anything that I know of, and most everything is exactly the same as before. But I have noticed some differences,” said Gregory.
“Like what?”
“I don’t know how to explain it. Just some strange things I’ve been hearing and, I don’t know, sensing? Things that I don’t think I knew about before.”
“That’s good, you can use that to add to the mysticism. What are we talking about?” asked Marta.
“I feel something weird when cell phones are around. That’s one thing,” said Gregory. “You’ve got one in your pocket right now, right? And there’s another one in the room on the other side of this wall. There’s a whole cloud of them surrounding the house. That just gets confusing—must be from all the reporters.”
“Interesting. Not exactly the most intriguing thing in the world, but it can’t hurt. What else?” asked Marta.
“That’s it, I guess,” said Gregory. “Well, wait. There is one thing…”
Chapter 10
Carol Free
Present Day…
“PULL!” JEREMY WHISPERED. “I can’t lift you.”
“I’m trying,” said Carol. She scolded herself. All that time in the gym, she thought, and she never bothered to focus on arm strength. It just hadn’t seemed necessary until now. She glanced back at the dark warehouse behind her. Their escape attempt was still unnoticed, but it had only begun moments before.
Jeremy had spotted a ledge jutting out from the wall about head-height. He’d suggested that if they could just get up on that, then they could reach the catwalk up in the trusses of the big building. He’d made it up, but she was only about halfway.
“This is our only chance,” said Jeremy. “I’m going on without you if you don’t get up here soon.”
His statement infuriated Carol. The escape had been his idea, sure, but she was the one with the fortitude that had inspired the attempt. For Jeremy to think he could just leave her was totally unfair. He might have more natural muscle, but she was the heart of the twosome. She clenched her jaw and lifted her legs up the wall. Even though she was pushing away from the ledge, it was the only way she could get leverage. She pushed out and up, gaining inch after inch while Jeremy pulled at her arm.
“Yes!” Carol said as she got her waist up over the lip of the iron walkway. Jeremy slid over so she swing her legs up. He was rubbing his wrist. “Now what?”
“I think I saw sunlight coming through over there,” he said and pointed.
They crept down the length of the walkway. Below them, at floor-level, they could just make out a few dark spots. They looked like black holes punched in the dirt floor of the place. Carol guessed that they were other pits, similar to the one she had been digging.
Jeremy reached the end where a thick door was set into the wall. The brass handle wouldn’t turn, and the door wouldn’t budge.
He sighed and leaned back against the door—“Locked,” he sighed.
“So we’ll try the other way,” she pointed.
“It ends,” he said. “The catwalk ends just past where we climbed up,” he spoke into Carol’s ear.
“So we’ll try something else,” she whispered. “Donna’s just a little baby. It can’t be that hard to outwit an infant. I’ve done it before.”
“I think she’s stronger than you know,” said Jeremy. “Look at this place. Do you know how many people are trapped here digging holes?”
“Just some kind of enchantment,” Carol said. “We’re awake now. We just have to resist any spells or whatever. Have you seen anyone older than five guarding the place? I don’t think we’ll have a problem.”
“Yeah, I guess,” said Jeremy. “We could climb up through the trusses. I think there’s roof access on that wall over there. I can’t see it now, but I’m pretty sure.”
Carol followed his gesture to the far wall which was lost in the gloom. The trusses were spaced about four feet across. The thought of climbing from truss to truss didn’t bother her, just the twenty-foot drop to the floor.
“I don’t know,” said Carol.
“You got a better idea?” asked Jeremy.
“Lead on,” said Carol.
Carol placed each hand and foot with extreme care. The trusses, excellent at holding up the roof, were not built to resist the side-to-side force of two adults crossing. They swayed as Carol pushed against them. The floor, dotted with gaping holes, seemed almost like an illusion. Carol could barely make it out, but occasionally a low moan made its way up from that direction. The sounds sent chills down Carol’s spine.
“Hey!” a young voice called up.
Carol froze and looked down, but she couldn’t see anyone.
“Diz, we’ve got runners,” the young voice said.
“Copy that,” said a low voice.
An orange line materialized below. She heard a clanking noise that sounded familiar, but she couldn’t quite place. Jeremy was in her way, still moving methodically. Just past him, she could finally see the far wall. A small ladder bolted to the wall went all the way up to the roof.
“Ladder,” Jeremy whispered back to Carol.
“I know,” she said. “On the wall. I see it.”
“No!” Jeremy shook his hand and pointed downwards. “Down there.”
The orange shape made sense now—it was a fiberglass ladder. Somebody, probably the deep-voice guy, was leaning it up against one of the trusses in front of them. Carol looked back around behind her. There was no escape route except the distant catwalk, now lost in the gloom.
“Hold it steady,” said the low voice. He started up the ladder, climbing to the truss directly in front of Jeremy.
“Turn around,” said Jeremy.
“And go where?” asked Carol.
“Anywhere,” said Jeremy.
Carol turned around and reached back for the truss she’d left. She grabbed it, but when she reached her leg across, her toe slipped off and she almost tumbled off. Gasping for air, she pulled back to the other truss.
“Get going,” said Jeremy.
“I can’t,” said Carol. “There’s no where to go. We have to fight that guy. It’s our only chance, Jeremy. We have to.”
“Okay, fine,” said Jeremy. “But move quick. It will take both of us to push over the ladder.”
Jeremy reached the ladder truss first. Carol moved as fast as she could, but her slip had sapped her confidence. Jeremy was trying to wrestle the orange ladder off the truss when she was just getting her nerve to cross over.
The low-voice man wrapped a thick hand around Jeremy’s ankle and pulled; he began to climb Jeremy instead of the ladder. Jeremy looped an arm around a cross-brace and locked his wrist with his other hand. The truss creaked and cracked as the low-voice man’s weight was added to Jeremy’s. Carol gathered her nerve to join them. She leaned over with both hands, grabbed a high support, and swung her legs over. She raised her legs as she swung across and then thrust both feet towards low-voice man’s face. One of Carol’s feet slid off his sweaty head, but the other crunched into the man’s nose. She held herself up with her arms and pulled her feet back to kick again.
The low-voice man ra
ised his own feet, so he could make the transfer to the truss or perhaps just pull harder on Jeremy’s ankle. One of his feet caught on a rung and he managed to do what Jeremy could not—he toppled the ladder over. It fell as Carol missed the low-voice man with her third kick. Her grip loosened with her miss and she almost fell to the join the ladder as it crashed to the ground.
Jeremy began to slip as the truss sagged.
Low-voice man growled and tried to swing his dangling feet up to the truss.
Carol heard a cry from below and strained to see that the ladder had dropped on the evil little boy, pinning him to the ground.
“Help me, Carol,” said Jeremy.
She could smell his blood before she saw it dripping down his strained arm. The truss cut into his elbow where it was looped around the cross-member. She tried to kick at the low-voice man clinging to Jeremy’s legs, but every time she missed she kicked her bare feet into the truss and her toes flared with pain. Jeremy’s arm was the weakest link in the standoff.
Carol swung her feet down so she could focus her attention on low-voice man’s grip. As soon as her feet touched-down on the truss, the bad man released a hand from Jeremy’s leg and swung towards her ankle. She got out of the way just in time. Slipping to the other side of the truss, Carol was able to get into a seated position on a diagonal strut. Once she was stable, she kicked viciously at the low-voice man’s head. Her heels pounded into his forehead several times; one kick brought a crack from his eye socket before he ducked his face down. Denied his face, Carol beat her feet into the back of his head, right at the top of his neck.
Jeremy screamed. Carol heard a noise that sounded like ripping cloth from where his bare arm looped around the truss. She kicked frantically. Low-voice man grunted right before he let go. His hands fell away and he dropped away into the gloom. The ladder banged and clanked when he landed on it.
Jeremy moaned with pain as he pulled himself up and released his death-grip. His torn skin pumped blood and he clutched his injured arm to his chest.
“Come on,” she said. “We’re almost there.”
“Yeah,” said Jeremy.
Carol went first, straddling to the next truss and pulling herself over. As the damaged truss swayed in the darkness, Jeremy reached out with his good arm and tried to hold himself up with the injured one. His hand swiped right by Carol and he nearly slipped off. Carol was ready though, she caught his arm and helped him to safety. They had two more to go.
It seemed to take forever, but they reached the wall and there was still no more movement below. As far as she knew, the little boy was dead. She doubted that the fall would have killed low-voice, but he must have been at least knocked-out because he didn’t resume the chase.
“You first,” Carol pushed Jeremy towards the iron ladder bolted to the wall of the warehouse.
“Okay,” he said. Even in the gloom, Carol could see how white his face had become. He was rapidly losing blood from the crook of his torn elbow.
Jeremy climbed one rung at a time. His good arm pulled him up, but his bad was just barely able to clutch the ladder. Carol followed close, ready to hold him to the ladder, if necessary. They made their way up a dozen rungs when they heard the shriek from below. It was a senseless, wordless yell, but the message was clear: their escape attempt had been rediscovered. Soon after the yell began, Carol could hear the orange ladder being wrangled on the ground. She knew it was just a matter of time before a hand would come up out of the gloom and grab her ankle.
“Keep going,” she whispered to Jeremy. His blood was dripping down on her shoulder.
“It’s latched or something,” he said back. He sounded tired—exhausted.
“Break it open,” she said. Carol slapped at him in frustration, smacking his ass.
“I can’t,” he said.
“You have to,” she said. “No choice."
Jeremy wrapped his bad arm around the ladder and banged his fist up at the hatch. Carol came up a couple more rungs and hugged Jeremy’s waist to the ladder, to provide him more stability. As he pounded the hatch, his hand brushed something he hadn’t noticed before.
“There’s a thing,” he said.
“What thing? Just go,” said Carol.
“Hold on,” he said.
Then she saw it—just past Jeremy at the top of the ladder she could see a small rectangle of stars. They were beautiful. Below, the orange ladder banged against the wall, and she could hear heavy feet ascending.
Jeremy looked backed down with a dreamy smile that Carol could just make out.
“It had a handle,” he said.
“Great. Just go!” she said, pushing him.
“Oh,” said Jeremy. He hitched and jerked up the ladder and Carol followed him as close as she could. She was afraid to look down; afraid to know just how close the pursuers were. The night air was cool and sweet. Carol’s excitement rose in her chest when she tasted it.
Jeremy had already started to carefully slide down the metal roof. Carol looked around and then called him back.
“Hey, this way,” she said. The roof line was next to a brick wall. Near the peak of their metal roof, the wall ended, and it looked like the neighboring building had a flat roof. Carol figured they had a better chance of getting down from a flat roof than trying their luck with an edge of a sloped one. Jeremy had a hard time catching up with one arm clutched to his chest. Carol scrambled over the edge of the brick wall and gave him a hand cresting it.
They sprinted between air conditioners and roof vents until Carol found what she was looking for. The silhouette of a rounded iron rail was slumped over one edge, and she found a ladder leading down to a fire escape. They pounded down the rusty metal with their bare feet and joined forces at the end to tilt down the weighted ladder. They made the alley before they saw or heard anyone chasing.
“Which way?” asked Jeremy.
“Towards the lights,” said Carol. She wanted bright lights. Her eyes craved them.
It hurt to run down the alley amongst the litter and broken glass. Their bare feet took a beating, but they didn’t slow.
“I know where we are,” said Jeremy. “The river is down that way, and this way leads to downtown. We can get a cab." He pointed to the street that led slightly downhill.
“Whatever,” said Carol. “Let’s just keep moving.”
Jeremy died in the cab, the last of his blood pooling on the vinyl seat. Carol bolted from the car at a traffic signal before their driver noticed that Jeremy had passed.
CAROL RAN UPHILL, away from the cab with Jeremy’s body and away from downtown and away from the river. The neighborhoods were quiet. Most of the houses were dark except for the occasional flickering blue lights of TV sets. When the sidewalks ran out so did the streetlights, and Carol ran in the dark. Her feet had become accustomed to being bare, and it felt good to run. The exertion cleared her head. Plus, the more she ascended, the farther away she got from the warehouse and the heavy, moist, river air.
The street leading uphill ran out. A low fence blocked off a scrubby bank. Carol pushed up and over the fence and scrambled up. Her need for altitude was not yet exhausted. At the top of the bank, through some low bushes, Carol emerged in a field of headstones. She walked down a rutted path between the graves for a while and then crouched down behind an ornate marble stone. A few rows away she saw a flickering green light.
Carol peeked over the top of the stone until she could make out source. The light came from within a green tent. When she squinted and really focused, she could see several tents dotting the hilltop cemetery. To her side the bushes rustled and a flashlight emerged. Carol froze and shielded her eyes. She thought they’d give her away in the dark.
The light swung back and forth, darting to either side of the path. Its general course headed towards the nearest tent. The person had almost passed Carol when the light swept over and caught her, crouched next to the headstone.
“Shit,” said the owner of the light.
Car
ol looked at the ground and stayed perfectly still. She wanted to run, but her legs wouldn’t seem to work.
“What are you?” the voice challenged.
Carol looked up. She couldn’t see much past the light except long hair and a beard.
“What do you mean?” she asked. She managed to rise up, ready to run.
“I mean like, what are you, man? Are you like some zombie or something? Are you out here hunting for something? Why don’t you have any shoes on, and what’s that shit smeared all over your shirt. Oh shit, are you a vampire or something?” the man asked. “Is that blood?”
Another light approached in back of the man. It lit him from behind. She could see the outline of ripped jeans, a flannel shirt tied around his waist, and a t-shirt with the sleeves torn off.
“Okay,” said Carol. She took a step back. “Sorry to interrupt. You go back to your… whatever.”
“Hold it,” said the woman coming up behind the man. She held a small electric lantern at shoulder height and looked Carol over. “Don’t move, lady,” she said to Carol. “Where’d she come from, Bert?”
“What do you mean?” asked the man. “She was just sitting there. I think she’s probably a vampire. See the blood on her shirt?”
“She’s not a vampire, dummy,” said the woman. “There’s no such thing. What’s your name, lady?” asked the young woman.
“Carol. I’m Carol.”
“This is Bert. My name is Farah. Why’re you here like this?”
“I’m just here,” said Carol. “Why are you guys in the cemetery in the middle of the night? Are you camping here or something?”
“We’ve got a Tuber’s permit,” said Farah.
“Oh,” said Carol.
Bert leaned over a whispered something to Farah. Carol looked down and saw that his beam was focused on her dirty pants and bare feet.
“You need something to eat?” asked Farah. “You look a little ragged.”
“Actually, yes,” said Carol. “I wouldn’t normally… I’m just so hungry and tired. It’s just…”
