The Quarry

by Mark Allan Gunnells

  “Yeah, but he was never tight with me the way he was with you. He used to say you were like the brother he never had. Now I want you to tell me where to find the bastard.”

  “Honestly Steve, I have no idea. I’m as baffled by what’s been going on as anyone.”

  Steve advanced on Emilio, poking a finger in his chest as he spoke. “Well, just in case Sierra does decide to get in touch with his old pal, I want you to give him a message for me.”

  Emilio nodded sheepishly.

  “Tell him he better pray I don’t see him before the cops get a hold of him, because I’m going to rip his goddamn throat out. Leslie and I may have had our problems, sure, but I cared about her, and he’ll pay for whatever he did to her. He’s going to pay hard.”

  One more finger-poke for emphasis then Steve left the room, slamming the door hard enough that Phil’s framed poster of Megan Fox fell from the wall.

  * * *

  It hid in the shadows outside the house on Thompson Street, the house where the vessel it inhabited had resided.

  It did not know why it had been drawn here; perhaps because this place was familiar to the vessel.

  Some of the boy’s memories and bits of his personality remained, a holdover from what once was…residue and nothing more.

  It was fully in control of the vessel now and would only need the boy’s body for a little longer. Then it would be free of its watery prison and could shrug off this form.

  Headlights turning in the driveway caused it to scurry back into the bushes, watching as the one known as Steve got out of his car and went inside the house. It had to fight the urge to break from hiding and attack the boy.

  It had to be very careful, now more than ever. Freedom was so close that carelessness was a danger. It could not allow the vessel to be captured or destroyed, and so for now it had to stalk only weak prey.

  It would bide its time—after all, it had waited centuries already—and soon it would be liberated to walk the earth once again in its own flesh, and then no mortal creature could stand against its power.

  Chapter Fifteen

  EMILIO AND NORMAN sat on the sofa, staring at the papers strewn across the coffee table.

  When Emilio had snatched his research on the Quarry and stuffed it in his back pocket—a spur of the moment decision—he hadn’t been sure if he’d actually share any of it.

  He’d arrived at the Montgomery lot a couple of minutes late, thanks to Steve, to find Norman waiting for him. They’d swung by Little Caesar’s for a large pepperoni then headed to Norman’s apartment, which was on the slightest of alleys near Gaffney Middle School. After they’d settled in and starting on the pizza, an awkward silence crashed the party. Neither of them seemed able to think of anything to say, and Emilio grew increasingly uncomfortable.

  He’d taken the crumpled papers out of his back pocket in an act of desperation, trying to get some kind of conversation going to banish the unwanted guest.

  However, after showing Norman the articles and giving him a brief rundown of everything he’d learned, the silence had returned, and neither of them had spoken a word in five minutes.

  “So,” Norman finally said, looking up sheepishly at Emilio, “what exactly is all this supposed to mean?”

  “Just that Dale was right—the stories passed around about the Quarry don’t seem to be true. Look at this, it’s an article I found in a copy of the Ledger from the early fifties. It comments about the mining operation being ‘recently abandoned’ and the Quarry left to fill with water. And here, in this article from eighty-seven when some of the land around the lake caved in, it says that some of the mining tunnels were blown closed ‘prior to being filled with water.’ Doesn’t sound like an accident, sounds like something that was deliberately allowed to happen.”

  Norman nodded then shrugged. “And if that’s the case, what does it prove?”

  Emilio looked down at the papers and realized he had no answer. He floundered for a moment before saying, “Maybe someone’s trying to hide something. Maybe letting the Quarry fill in with water was an attempt to cover something up.”

  “Like what?”

  Emilio chewed on his lip to the point that he thought he could taste blood, or maybe it was just tomato sauce. “I don’t know, Norm. I just don’t know.”

  “Look,” Norman said, leaning forward and putting a hand on Emilio’s knee, “I’m not trying to be dismissive or anything. All this is very fascinating; I mean, I’ve lived in Gaffney my whole life and I always just accepted the stories about the Quarry at face value, so it’s interesting to find out after all these years that it may be a bunch of hogwash. But you seem to think that this knowledge has some significance to what happened to your friend, and I’m just not seeing it.”

  “You just didn’t know Dale. He was a great guy, one of the best. The idea that he’s capable of murder is just ridiculous.”

  “Em, I told you—”

  “I know, I know, you saw him and Dr. Brighton with your own two eyes. I don’t disbelieve you, it’s just that…well, there has to be a reason for it. I mean, he started to change after he became obsessed with the Quarry’s history.”

  “Sort of the way you’ve become obsessed with it?”

  This stunned Emilio into silence for a moment. He gathered up his papers and hugged them close to his chest. “It’s not like that,” he said, his voice small. “I just believe there has to be a connection. He starts researching the Quarry then suddenly he’s killing women and throwing them into the Quarry…there has to be something here, some scrap of information that can help me understand. I need to understand.”

  “It’s okay, I get it,” Norman said, leaning back into the sofa cushions. He was wearing cargo shorts and a black T-shirt, his casualness in contrast to Emilio’s dressy attire. His hair was pleasingly disheveled and there were charcoal-gray bags under his eyes, presumably a result of the nightmares that interrupted his sleep. His stare was so direct and candid that Emilio looked away.

  “One slice of pizza left,” Emilio said. “You want it?”

  Norman shook his head, his eyes still trained on Emilio, the stare seeming to have substance, weighing down Emilio. “You said I didn’t know Dale, and you’re right. So why don’t you tell me about him?”

  “What?”

  “Seriously, I want to hear about him.”

  Emilio shifted in his seat. “I wouldn’t know where to begin.”

  “The beginning is always a good place. How’d you two meet?”

  A smile spread across Emilio’s face before he could stop it. “Last semester. Classes hadn’t even started yet. Me and my Uncle Rory were moving my stuff into the dorm when I tripped and almost dropped the box I was carrying; some of the stuff on top fell out onto the ground. Dale was suddenly there, picking it up for me. There were some old VHS tapes I had of a show called Mystery Science Theater. Know it?”

  Norman shook his head.

  “Anyway, turns out Dale was a fan too. We got to talking about the show, laughing over some of our favorite episodes. He ended up helping me and Rory move the rest of my stuff in. After my uncle left, Dale asked if he could hang out and watch some of the tapes. Phil, that’s my roommate, hadn’t shown up yet, so we spent hours watching the show and cracking our own jokes. The whole time I was wondering why this guy would want to hang out with me.”

  Norman frowned. “Why wouldn’t he want to hang out with you?”

  “You have to understand, I wasn’t popular in high school. Didn’t have a single friend. I just didn’t seem to fit anywhere. I figured college would be more of the same. And then there I was on the first day, getting to know one of the popular jocks, an upperclassman at that. It was surreal. I guess I kind of assumed once the semester started he wouldn’t have anything else to do with me, busy with his cool friends. But much to my surprise, he treated me like one of his cool friends. Hell, he even made me feel like I was maybe semi-quasi cool myself.”

  “You seem like a cool enough
guy to me,” Norman said with a smile.

  “Well, I have Dale to thank for helping bring me out of my shell. I mean, I’m not exactly a social butterfly or anything, but he introduced me to people, took me to a few parties, encouraged me to open up and talk more. I’m telling you, I don’t think I’d have survived the college transition if it wasn’t for Dale being there to guide me and bolster my confidence.”

  “Sounds like a great guy.”

  “You don’t know the half of it. Everyone liked him, and he treated everyone the same. A lot of jocks only hang out with other jocks, real cliquish you know, but Dale didn’t judge people, didn’t put them into categories or anything. He always had a smile and a kind word for pretty much everyone he met. He didn’t see himself as above anyone else; everyone was an equal in his eyes.”

  “A real saint, huh?”

  “No, nothing like that. He wasn’t perfect, and he’d be the first to admit that. He was a bit too impetuous and something of a rule-breaker, but he tried to always be fair and to never hurt anyone’s feelings. And there wasn’t a chauvinistic bone in his body. He had the utmost respect for women, treated his girlfriend Connie like a goddess. Some of the stories that came out after tried to paint him as a woman-hater, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. That’s why this whole thing has been so hard for me to swallow.”

  “I think Dale had a very good friend in you.”

  “And I had a good friend in him. He did so much for me, and I’m not sure that he knew how grateful I was for it.”

  Norman was quiet for a few seconds, took a deep breath and said, “Did he know you were in love with him?”

  Now it was Emilio who became quiet, heat suffusing his face as if he’d stuck his head right in the middle of a flame. He stuttered and stammered, barked a short laugh, and prepared to deny the suggestion. In the end, he merely sighed and said, “No, he didn’t know.”

  Norman nodded but said nothing else.

  Emilio felt a kind of nervous excitement thrumming through his body, making him feel a little sick but also exhilarated. This was the first time he’d ever made an admission of this sort to anyone, and it hadn’t been as difficult as he’d feared. It actually felt rather good, freeing.

  “Is it that obvious?” Emilio asked, daring to make eye contact with the guard. “Can you always tell?”

  “There’s a vibe I pick up on sometimes.”

  “Is that the gaydar I’ve heard tell of?”

  “Let’s just call it an instinct. I guess you could say I recognize my own.”

  “So you’re also…?”

  “Guilty as charged.”

  “That’s what I’d heard, but wasn’t sure if it was true.”

  “What you heard? From who?”

  “Just the word going around campus.”

  Norman frowned.

  “Sorry, didn’t mean to upset you.”

  “Oh no, I don’t care if people know, I just find it a little hard to believe anyone at Limestone spares me enough thought to gossip about me.”

  “So you’re out of the closet then?”

  “Well, I don’t go around wearing rainbow T-shirts or put ‘Professional Homosexual’ on my business cards—if I had business cards—but I don’t make a secret of it either. I’m comfortable with who I am and make no apologies for it.”

  “I’m still getting there myself, the being comfortable part I mean.”

  “That’ll come in time. You’re still young.”

  Emilio smiled and started chewing his lip again. “You’re the first gay man I’ve ever met. Besides myself, I mean.”

  “I seriously doubt that. I’m probably just the first gay man you’ve met that you knew was gay.”

  “Well, there was this French teacher in high school, everyone said he was. Had a little swishy bounce to his walk, talked with his hands a lot, seemed a little too fashion-conscious. I avoided him, afraid if I was seen talking to him…”

  “Guilt by association?”

  “Something like that,” Emilio said with a laugh. “Silly, huh?”

  “Not so much. I think we all go through a period of shame and hiding. When I was a sophomore in high school, I became super religious, carried my Bible with me to school every day. I guess I thought I could get God to cleanse my soul of wicked desires.”

  “Didn’t take, huh?”

  “Guess not.”

  “Do your folks know?”

  “My dad was killed in a car accident when I was just a kid, and my Mom passed on from a stroke about three years ago.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry.”

  “Nothing to be sorry about, just part of life. Anyway, I did tell my Mom about a year before she died.”

  “How’d she take it?”

  “Better than I expected. I think she’d sort of figured it out on her own long before I actually told her, so she went through the whole why-my-child?, what-did-I-do-wrong?, this-is-surely-just-a-phase trauma and was past it by the time she officially knew. Hell, before she died she was nagging me about finding a boyfriend.”

  “Wow. I can’t imagine my mother ever being that cool with it.”

  “Maybe she won’t. Everyone’s experience is different. That’s why I never pressure anyone to come out before they feel ready. It has to be an individual choice.”

  “So do you still not have a boyfriend?” Emilio asked, the blush returning to his cheeks as he became incredibly interested in his shoes.

  “Afraid not. I hardly have the time, between work and school. Kind of live the life of a monk, you could say.”

  Emilio leaned back, allowing his arm to brush up against Norman’s. As far as moves went, it wasn’t the most daring, but it felt pretty bold to Emilio. “You managed to find time to hang out with me. Does that make me special?”

  Norman smiled knowingly, indecisiveness passing over his face like a shadow. He put two fingers beneath Emilio’s chin, leaned forward and planted a soft, tentative kiss on his lips.

  It lasted only seconds, but it was Emilio’s first kiss and it sent an electrical jolt through his nervous system.

  “You’re cute, Em,” Norman said, “and I like you, but I’m not so sure it’s a good idea for the two of us to get involved.”

  The electricity fizzled, leaving Emilio feeling slightly deflated, like a tire with a slow leak.

  “Why not?”

  “Lots of reasons. For one, I’m older than you.”

  “By how much? Can’t be more than five years.”

  “Even so, we’re at completely different places in our lives.”

  “I understand,” Emilio said, scooting away from Norman and wishing he could sink into the sofa cushions and disappear. “It’s okay if you’re not interested in me.”

  “It’s not that I’m not interested in you.” Norman put a warm hand on the back of Emilio’s neck and gently massaged the muscles there. “But I’m not so sure you’re really interested in me.”

  “So you don’t think I know how I feel?”

  “You said yourself that as far as you know I’m the first gay man you’ve ever met.”

  “What’s that got to do with anything?”

  “Sometimes, when you’re sort of new to all this and you have a lot of pent up…well, it can feel like you’re the only one, all alone in the world. Know what I mean?”

  Emilio nodded; it sounded all too familiar.

  “So when you finally meet someone else like you, you might say to yourself, ‘This may be my only chance,’ and you sort of cling to that person, imagining feelings that might not really be there.”

  “God, you make me sound so desperate, like I’ll just jump on the first man that comes along.”

  “That’s not what I’m trying to say at all. I just don’t want to pursue anything if there’s even the slightest chance that you might be confused about your emotions. How about we just spend some time together, get to know each other, and see what happens from there? Sound like a plan?”

  Emilio unfolded the print
ed articles he still held in his hands and started shuffling through them nervously, trying to cover his embarrassment. “Sure, we can do that.”

  “Besides,” Norman said, tapping the papers, “I think you might still be hung up on someone else.”

  “Yeah, a suspected murderer who may or may not be dead himself.”

  “We can’t always help how we feel.”

  Glancing up from the papers, Emilio met Norman’s gaze and said, “Do you think Dale is still alive?”

  Norman hesitated for a moment then gave his head a resolute shake. “No way. I was there. I know I shot him and I know he fell into the Quarry. I just don’t see how he could have lived through that.”

  “But the authorities think it’s a possibility?”

  “They’re not ruling it out. The administration isn’t ready to put the curfew back in place or anything, but Lt. Beckman called me shortly after I’d gone to bed this morning to tell me they were putting two guards on each shift until further notice; one to man the security office and monitor the cameras, and the other to tour the campus and escort students around after dark.”

  “Man, it’s kind of scary, huh?”

  “A little bit, but luckily you have a security guard to personally escort you back to your dorm this evening.”

  Emilio smiled, and, before Norman had time to react, he kissed him again.

  * * *

  “This can’t wait until tomorrow?” Connie asked.

  Kasey rummaged through her backpack, throwing old crumpled papers and erases everywhere. “This paper is due at eight tomorrow morning; if the bibliography is incomplete, Dr. Hascal will take off an entire letter grade. I’m barely scraping by in World Civ as it is, and this could be the difference between passing and failing.”

  “You really think he’ll notice if you leave off one source?”

  “Half the quotes in my paper come from that damn book. I really thought I’d written down all the information I would need before taking it back to the library yesterday, but I can’t find the paper I wrote it on anywhere.”