“Not a thing. But don’t worry, Em, this is going to be a piece of cake. Dad and I have been scuba diving every summer since I was twelve. Trust me, I know what I’m doing.”
Emilio glanced at the water. A wire-mesh fence bordered the lake, and a gate stood open before them, two small utility buildings on each side. “I heard that an experienced diver went down there in the early ’60s. He got disoriented in the tunnels and drowned.”
“Heard that too, but I’m not so sure it ever happened. If I learned anything from my research, it’s that there’s a lot of urban legend surrounding the Quarry. I mean, what do you really know about it?”
“Not much,” Emilio said with a shrug. “Just that it used to be a limestone mine back in the olden days, and that the workers ended up hitting an underground spring. The thing flooded so fast that they had to flee for their lives, leaving all their trucks and equipment to be buried underwater.”
“You see, that’s the story I’ve always heard too, but when I started looking into it, I couldn’t find a single bit of evidence to support it. In fact, from what I could find, it seems that once the mining operation reached a certain point, the Quarry was always in danger of flooding and they had to constantly pump it to stave off the inevitable. Then sometime in the ’50s, for whatever reason, the mine was shut down, abandoned, and allowed to fill in. However, accounts of that time are sketchy at best and I haven’t been able to find anything definitive one way or the other.”
“What does it matter? I mean, what exactly are you hoping to find down there anyway?”
“I have no idea, and that’s part of what makes me so eager to go down there. It’s not an adventure if you already have a pretty good idea of the outcome.”
“But what’s the point? Whatever you may find, it’s not as if you can actually put any of it into your speech.”
“Em, buddy, this has gone way beyond some simple class assignment. This whole thing has got my curiosity piqued, and you know how tenacious I can be when my curiosity is piqued.”
Emilio rolled his eyes, although his friend probably couldn’t see the gesture in the dark. Since the two had first met at the start of Fall semester last year, Emilio had indeed come to know Dale well enough to realize that once he got his claws into an idea, there was nothing that would keep him from seeing it through. Still, one had to try.
“I guess it won’t do any good to remind you just how dangerous this little stunt is, huh? I mean, they don’t have all these signs posted for nothing.”
“ ‘Danger!’,” Dale said, mockingly reading from a nearby sign. “ ‘Recreational activities, including but not limited to swimming, fishing, and boating may lead to serious injury, even death, and are prohibited on Lake Limestone under penalty of law.’ ”
“Don’t you feel like you’re tempting fate?” Emilio held up two slightly separated fingers. “Just a little?”
“It’s not like I’m going for a late night skinny dip,” Dale said. “I’m fully prepared—have about two hours’ worth of air, and I won’t get disoriented and stuck down there like the fairy-tale diver from the ’60s thanks of this.” Dale prodded a massive coil of rope with his foot. “Three hundred and fifty feet, my friend. I’ll tie one end around my waist and the other around that stone monument over there.”
“Now I know you’re tempting fate,” Emilio said, pointing at the stone in question, a memorial to the kid that drowned in the Quarry fifteen years ago and the security guard that dropped dead from a heart-attack trying to save him.
With a chuckle, Dale reached out and patted Emilio on the cheek. “You worry too much. You need to learn to trust your elders.”
“You’re a year older than I am.”
“You’re talking years, Em. When it comes to experience, I’m lifetimes older.”
Against his better judgment, Emilio felt his lips spreading in a grin. “You’re certifiable, you know that?”
“Of course, but that’s part of my charm. Now help me with this.”
Emilio took one end of the rope and looped it around Dale’s waist, threading it under the tanks that hung down by his hips. The rope kept slipping as he fumbled to tie a knot.
“Jesus, weren’t you ever a Boy Scout?” Dale asked, reaching down awkwardly and tying the rope himself. After tugging on the knot a few times, making sure it would hold, Dale took the other end of the rope over to the stone monument and tied it around the thick base. Then, lowering his scuba mask over the top half of his face, he turned back toward the Quarry.
“Wait,” Emilio said, grabbing his friend’s arm. “What if the security guard happens by here on his rounds and catches us in the act?”
“I already told you, I’ve taken care of that.”
“How? He’s not tied up somewhere with a rag stuffed in his mouth, is he?”
Dale laughed. “No, he’s just going to be otherwise occupied for a while.”
“Occupied? With what?”
“Man, you’re like a dog with a bone, just won’t let it go.”
“Hey, it’s my neck on the line here too. I just figure that one of the steps in the plan should be telling me the damn plan. So—”
“Fine, you’re right. Steve’s going to cause a bit of a diversion by streaking through the Eunice Ford dorm.”
Laughter sputtered from Emilio’s mouth. “Seriously? You actually talked him into that?”
“Oddly, didn’t take much convincing. He practically said yes before I could finish asking. He probably thinks it was his idea.”
“How’s he getting into the dorm? He doesn’t have a keycard.”
“No, but he is dating Leslie Butler who lives there.”
“Lucky girl,” Emilio said with a snicker.
“Yeah, and totally in favor of his stupidity, too. Don’t know how he finds ’em, but they should all be afraid. Very afraid. Anyway, she promised to prop open the back door of the building. Steve’s gonna run up and down the halls, naked as the day he was born, screaming bloody murder and beating on doors. He’s probably already at it.” Dale cast a satisfied look in the direction of Eunice Ford dorm. “That’ll keep the guard distracted for a while. Gonna be legendary.”
“And what if the guard gets done with Steve before we’re done here? He could still come by and find us.”
“Are you kidding? Once that guard takes one look at Steve in the buff, he’ll probably take him back to the security office and ‘interrogate’ him for several hours.”
Suddenly scowling, Emilio stepped away from Dale. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Come on, everybody knows that carrot-top guard that works the graveyard shift is queer as a three dollar bill.”
Despite the chill wind, Emilio’s cheeks were suddenly hot as a blush crept into them, and he was glad it was too dark for his friend to notice. “Oh,” he muttered, “I hadn’t heard that.”
“Common knowledge. Maybe if you talked to someone other than me and Connie once in a while, you’d be in on all the latest gossip.”
Emilio shook his head sadly. The last thing he wanted was access to the Limestone grapevine, a bitter and unforgiving network of misinformation and southern-fried small-mindedness.
“Listen up,” Dale said, his voice suddenly serious as he placed his hands on Emilio’s shoulders. “In the event that I’m wrong and the guard shows up while I’m under, this is what you say. You couldn’t sleep so you came out for a walk by the lake. You saw the rope tied to the stone, trailing into the water. You stuck around because you were worried someone might need help—”
“Man, I can’t leave you on the hook like that.”
“You can and you will. If they ask you why you didn’t run for help, you tell them you just arrived, okay? When I come back up, I’ll say I was acting alone and that’ll leave you in the clear. Got it?”
Emilio nodded, but looked dubious.
“Come on, Em. Don’t make me feel guilty. This is my deal— you’re just here to help me out. You shouldn’t have to s
uffer if we get caught.”
Emilio didn’t speak for a moment, feeling a lump in his throat like a piece of stale bread. He swallowed past it and said, “But we’re not going to get caught, are we?”
Dale’s smile resurfaced like a night-blooming flower. “Not a chance. My plans always go off without a hitch.”
It was true. Emilio couldn’t argue with Dale’s track record.
“You just watch the rope,” Dale said. “If I get into any kind of trouble down there, I’ll start tugging like my life depends on it. You grab the rope and haul my ass back up. Think you can handle that?”
“Aye, aye, captain,” Emilio said, cutting a comical salute. “You know you’re probably going to get frostbite of the balls, right? That water must be freezing.”
“Nah, the suit is insulated to trap body heat. And this,” he said, bending down and retrieving what looked like a cross between a flashlight and a small suitcase, “is an LED light for use underwater, high-powered.”
“You really did come prepared, didn’t you? Where’d you get all this stuff?”
“My dad bought me the gear for our summer diving trips. I picked it up when I went home for a visit last weekend.”
“You’ve been planning this since then?”
Dale laughed then placed the mouthpiece between his lips, biting down on it and taking a few test breaths. Then, with a little wave, he turned, walked through the gate, and splashed into the lake. Just off the shoreline the water was supposedly 150 feet deep, and that must not have been a myth, because after only a few steps, Dale disappeared, and the rope began uncoiling and sliding into the water like a snake slithering into a hidey hole.
Emilio felt a similar sliding in his gut as he stared at the spot where his friend had disappeared, the ripples gradually smoothing out until there was nothing but the rope to indicate Dale had even been there. After a last glance back toward campus to assure that no one was about, Emilio sat down on the grass near the fence and watched the rope continue to play out, foot after foot. He wondered how deep Dale was, and how much deeper he would go.
I must be out of my fucking mind, he thought again. This wasn’t like any of the stunts Dale had talked him into in the past—starting a food fight at dinner, printing a picture of two horses going at it and posting it on Dean Wallace’s office door, swiping Todd Garrett’s jock and tossing it in one of the trees out by the campus bookstore—this was in a different league altogether. But it was too late for second thoughts now. All Emilio could do was wait and watch the rope for signs of trouble.
* * *
As Dale swam deeper into the murky water, he mused at how innocently his obsession with the Quarry had started. He and Emilio were both taking Public Speaking with Dr. Nance this semester, and two weeks ago she had assigned the class a speech on some aspect of the school’s history. Emilio had chosen Winnie Davis Hall—one of the oldest buildings on campus, renovated and modernized while leaving its façade much as it had been since it was first built in 1903—as his subject. Emilio had told Dale that he’d found nothing particularly interesting in his research, other than the building had featured prominently in a cheap slasher flick from the ’80s that the college would just as soon forget about. Dale agreed, Winnie Davis Hall was pretty boring shit.
Dale had decided to write about the Quarry. He’d heard a lot of interesting stories about the lake in the year and a half he’d been attending Limestone, and he figured there would be a ton of material he could use for his speech. What he’d discovered, however, was that there was almost nothing to be found regarding the Quarry’s history, its origins as a mine, how it became a lake. He’d scoured old newspapers, books, every resource he could think of, but all he found were secondhand stories of questionable veracity and very few hard facts. The tales all seemed as tall as the Jolly Green Giant. Increasingly intrigued and determined to find answers, he had talked about little else for the past week, fearing that his obsession was becoming tiresome for others. Still, he couldn’t push the subject from his mind.
His thoughts were interrupted when he noticed something peculiar further down, although he couldn’t say for sure how far.
A pulsating light, a soft shade of blue, blinking on and off like a traffic signal.
Frowning around his mouthpiece, Dale swam toward the light.
* * *
Emilio had lost track of time as he sat by the Quarry, letting his mind wander. He pulled his cell phone out of his jacket pocket and flipped it open, bluish light washing over his face. It was almost 3, and Dale had been under for almost two hours, meaning he had nearly reached the limit of his air reserve. But the rope remained stationary. What could Dale be doing down there for so long?
Jumping to his feet, Emilio cautiously approached the water’s edge, mumbling, “Oh God oh God oh God oh God,” over and over under his breath. He wasn’t sure what to do, but he knew he couldn’t afford extended indecision. Dale could be in serious trouble and was almost out of air. Maybe already out of air! Emilio had to act, and quickly.
He considered running to the security office and finding the guard, but that might prove to be a waste of precious time that Dale didn’t have. Which only left one option. Pull Dale up.
Emilio knelt down and grabbed the rope. It began to jerk and buck in his grip, as if his touch had somehow brought it to life. Cold water splashed into his face as the rope churned the lake. Emilio could practically feel his friend’s panic and desperation being communicated up the line like a telegraph. His first instinct was to dive in, but he realized how stupid that was. This wasn’t a community pool, and he wasn’t a lifeguard. Jumping in would just put him in danger as well as his friend.
Taking hold of the rope with both hands, he braced his feet wide apart and started to pull. At first nothing happened; he strained with all his strength but no results, as if he were playing tug of war with an armored tank. He dug his heels in and leaned back, the rope still thrashing in his hands, almost as if something was trying to pull the rope deeper into the water. Grunting with exertion, Emilio doubled his efforts, wishing he were stronger. Tears of frustration and fear blurred his vision, but he blinked them away. Thinking he should run and get help after all, he felt the rope starting to give, slipping back out of the water. Not much but it was something, renewing Emilio’s energy and determination.
He began walking backwards, tugging the rope along with him. Despite resistance, he made progress. Slow progress, but progress nonetheless. He didn’t want to think too much about why he might be meeting with such resistance—
Because it’s dead weight!
—so he tried not to focus on it and concentrate only on getting his friend back to the surface. After backing up several feet, he stopped and started pulling the rope, hand over hand. The resistance lessened, the rope sliding up and out of the water with greater ease.
Emilio ignored the soreness of his muscles and the rawness of his hands. Gritting his teeth, feeling the veins in his neck popping up like the ridges on a topographical map, he pulled the rope with ever-increasing speed. Dimly, he realized that Dale was either making his way back toward the surface, or the rope was no longer tied to his waist.
After what seemed an eternity, there was suddenly a loud splash. Dale erupted from the water, flailing his arms and gasping for air. Emilio, overcome with relief at seeing his friend alive, nearly dropped the rope. Dale started to slip back under the surface, and Emilio renewed his grip and started pulling his friend toward the shoreline.
Dale crawled up onto the wet ground on his hands and knees, retching and spitting up muddy water. Emilio noticed that somehow he’d lost his tanks and mouthpiece and even his LED light. He only had one flipper, and there was a tear in the left arm of his wetsuit, blood glistening darkly against the pale white skin that was exposed through the rip.
Kneeling down next to Dale, Emilio patted him on the back to try to help him cough up whatever water had gotten into his lungs. The relief that had washed over him like a tida
l wave when his friend had broken the surface was being replaced with concern that Dale wasn’t yet out of the woods.
Dale’s coughing tapered off.
“Are you okay?” Emilio asked.
Dale wept softly. Then, as if the strength had been drained from his limbs, he collapsed to the ground, curling up into a fetal position on his side, his entire body shivering like a newborn puppy. He mumbled softly to himself, something that sounded like, “It kissed me,” but Emilio couldn’t be sure.
“I’m going to get help.”
Emilio started to rise, but Dale’s hand suddenly shot out and latched onto Emilio’s forearm in a viselike grip. “No,” he said, voice raw and scratchy. “I’m fine…just need to, to catch my breath.”
Emilio stood by helplessly, watching as his friend trembled for several more minutes before finally sitting up.
Dale breathed deeply as if gulping the air.
Neither spoke for a long time, the quiet broken only by the sound of distant traffic and a dog barking somewhere nearby.
“What happened down there?” Emilio said when he could stand the silence no longer.
Dale got to his feet and untied the rope from his waist. “Nothing. Nothing happened.”
“What do you mean, nothing happened? Something obviously hap—”
“I don’t want to talk about it. I just want to go home and get some sleep.”
“Yeah, but—”
“Catch you later, Em.”
Without another word, Dale trudged away from the Quarry and toward the Timken Gym, headed in the general direction of the house he rented with three other lacrosse players.
Emilio called his friend’s name a couple of times but got no response. The darkness slowly swallowed Dale, and Emilio was left alone by the lake.
Adrenaline fading, Emilio felt almost numbed, unable to imagine what kind of trouble Dale had run into in the depths of the Quarry or why he hadn’t wanted to talk about it. Emilio was left with a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach, the kind of feeling one gets after realizing they’ve just nodded off at the wheel and almost run off the road.
The Quarry Page 2
