Intrigue (Stories of Suspense)

by Aaron Patterson

  David sat up and looked at the almost empty potato chip bag in his hand before handing it back to me. “I see a bird… and look over there,” he said pointing excitedly, “that big cloud… it looks like a dragon.”

  I laughed. “Looks like that dragon’s gonna eat that bird.”

  Later that evening Mrs. Jones walked David all the way back to the store. She made him tell Mr. Buck what he’d done, that he’d stole some sweets and a package of pre-sweetened Kool-Aid from the store earlier that day. After he confessed, she whipped him right there in the store where everybody could watch.

  Earlier David had gone home and bragged to his brother that he’d stolen the Kool-Aid from the store. Mrs. Jones overheard him and well, you know the rest. One thing I can say about old Dave, though, he never told. He kept my secret to this day and no one ever found out that I had stolen right along with him.

  ***

  I was cold again. The only sound I could hear now was my teeth chattering and the sound of the dripping water. My feet and butt hurt all the time now. I tried to lie down, tried to sleep, but I couldn’t. The cold crept into me, feeling like my very bones were freezing, and then when I felt I would freeze, instantly I was hot; too hot.

  I don’t know how long I’ve been here, it feels like forever. Time seems to not matter or exist. I tried counting the dripping of the water or my steps as I paced around my cell. I always lose track, either hitting my head or forgetting the count when the temperature changes and I’m distracted by the new sensation of discomfort.

  Desperation set in. My thirst is unbearable. I had to have something, anything to drink. Lifting my hacked and sliced feet to my mouth, I attempted to drink my own blood only to find that the cuts had not produced any bleeding, but dry lacerations only.

  In anguish I cried out; my first words spoken aloud since waking in this vile place, only to find them absorbed and sucked away into the darkness. I was alone without even the comfort of my own voice.

  Again a memory came, I was nine years old.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Heat. Cold. Thirst. Pain. These are my constant companions… and the darkness; and all the time, Him. Even in the heavy gloom I feel Him staring at me, watching me, but never saying anything. Anxiety gnawed at me like rats chewing on a wall trying to create an opening. Finally I could take it no longer. I jumped to my feet preparing for the fight.

  With sudden abruptness I crumpled after striking my head against the low ceiling. I could feel where the protuberance gouged into my scalp as the burning pain seared through the layers of my skin and struck bone. Dropping to the floor, curling into a fetal position, I scraped my arms, my legs and back across the jagged surface.

  “Face me!” I yelled into the darkness. “Come out and face me. You have no right to treat me like this. I’ve done nothing wrong.” My voice was sucked away. Had I spoken aloud or was it only in my mind. “Who are you?” I screamed it again and again. Still nothing, nothing but the incessant dripping of the unseen, and unreachable water. My throat burned with acrid dryness.

  ***

  I couldn’t believe my luck, they were finally going to let me join in. “You go get some Kool-Aid for the punch,” Leroy, one of the older teens told me. Lucky for me, I knew how to get Kool-Aid.

  All around me other kids my age and older were being given instructions. Some were told to get things from the store like me, while others were told to bring food from the surrounding farmers’ fields.

  At last, night fell, and with it the bonfire was lit and the party began. Grabbing a number three galvanized tub from one of the back porches, I dragged it beneath the backyard faucet and began filling it with water. We dropped packet after stolen packet of Kool-Aid beneath the running water and watched as the secret ingredient was added. Someone had either bought or stolen several bottles of Johnny Walker whiskey, and adding it to the Kool-Aid made it the star attraction of the bedraggled meal, and highlight of the summer block party.

  The empty field behind my house was alive with several small fires. Some cooking corn while yet others roasting or boiling hotdogs, minus the buns. Water melons were burst and broken open and served in chunks. The music of the Temptations thumped in the way only Motown could on a summer night out under stars. People danced and laughed and loved. I stood in the shadows just outside the ring of fire and watched as the people I knew as family and friends played together.

  In a pile off to my left were the stacks of debris; corn husk yet to be burned, food packaging, and melon rinds. I smiled. One of the reasons I had been invited was because of my ability to get certain things. “What do you think?” I asked one of the other young-ones.

  His eyes as big as my own, Ferdinand nodded his head, the light from the fire reflecting in his brown orbs. “Yeah,” was all he managed.

  I knew what he was thinking when his eyes fell on the proof of the pilfered food, but he was wrong. The farmers and the stores would never miss the little bits we had taken. Besides it was only right that we got our little bit.

  ***

  The silence wore on me. Was there anyone else in this place, or was I doomed to be alone forever. That couldn’t be, forever denoted time. I don’t know how I knew, but I knew time didn’t matter here. It simply didn’t exist.

  ***

  The song service ended like most, with the pastor offering the invitation to join the church. “Why not tonight,” he cried, echoing the refrain from the old hymn. “If you hear the Spirit’s calling, don’t put it off.” He raised both arms above his head, the oversized sleeves hanging from his wrist and flapping like wings. “Come on you.” He pointed over the congregation.

  I leaned over to my little brother and snickered, “I think he’s talking to you.”

  “Nahh, you. You the big devil,” he answered. We both laughed, that is until Mom reached over and pinched us. She cut her eyes at us, giving us the look.

  “You boys better pay attention,” she whispered through clinched teeth. “You never know, this may be your last chance to respond to Jesus,” Mom said, her face now serene.

  I looked at my brother and rolled my eyes, careful not to let my mother see me. We smiled after she turned her face forward.

  After the service ended we ran from the air-conditioned building into the bright summer sun, momentarily blinded by its brightness. Whooping and yelling we ran from the back porch after getting into play-clothes and headed to the playground.

  At thirteen, I was not the tallest, but I was stocky and well built for my age. Leaning back against the rough bark of the large pecan tree I hesitated as Jimmy, a neighborhood friend passed me the joint. I’d never smoked marijuana before and wasn’t really sure if I wanted to; after all I was a good churchgoing boy.

  “Hey you don’t have to if you don’t want to, but its here if you want it,” Jimmy said.

  I looked at my little brother who stood staring at me with watchdog tenacity. “None for you little brother,” I said rubbing my fingers through his woolly hair before accepting the proffered joint. Tentatively, I placed the hand-rolled cigarette to my lips. Careful to hold it pinched between my index finger and thumb, imitating my cousin and the older teens, I inhaled long and deep. Holding it in as long as I could, the heated smoke burned the back of my throat. I coughed and then giggled before passing the joint back to Jimmy.

  Jimmy and I laughed and he slapped me on my back after I’d completed my initiation. Just as the buzz reached my head, I looked at my little brother. His eyes were wide, but without the glowing admiration I’d become accustomed to. This time I saw disappointment and sadness as his faith and belief in me proved vain.

  ***

  “Why are you showing me this?! I know what I did! I told him not to use drugs.” I rubbed my hands over my face, pulling at my cheeks and clawing at my scalp, trying to remove the feeling of grime and filth that covered me. “You can’t blame me for his choices!” Still he ignored me.

  Now my cell was cold, I could feel ice crystals growing, crawlin
g along the walls of my lungs. Thirst pulled at me, burned in my throat, and now hunger gnawed at my stomach.

  I tried to sleep, tried to ignore the pain just to pass the time. But beneath me the floor grew hot, the sharp edges feeling like teeth cutting into my flesh. My joints began to stiffen, my fingers refusing to bend or flex despite my constant trying.

  Unable to find peace in sleep, I stood again and hobbled around my cell. For what must have been hours I walked around and around.

  Drip. Drip. Drip.

  The sound of the water seemed closer, but might as well have been a thousand miles away.

  My stomach growled. I could smell chicken frying, the various seasonings, garlic, salt and black-pepper, mixing together reminded me Sunday afternoon dinners. My throat burned, unable to even moisten my throat with spit from my mouth. Hunger was a physical pain, pulling at my gut, demanding to be satisfied only to be denied.

  “WHAT DID YOU DO WITH MY GRACE?”

  The voice was itself a presence. It echoed in my brain, becoming a pressure forcing itself against me. “Get out of my head,” I yelled. Running to the corner I hide my face, ignoring the painful lacerations, I buried my head into the angle. I had to get away from Him.

  Again the voice came as if from the wall only a breath from my face. The voice brushed against me like a whispered kiss, yet I fell backwards onto the floor. Screaming, I scampered backward as far away as the small cell would allow. “Get out of my head! Get out of my head! I don’t want you. Go away!”

  The voice came again. “I loved you and gave my life for you.”

  The silence returned and immediately I missed the voice. I loathed it yet I missed it. I screamed against the void created by the absence of the voice. With my knees pulled against my chest and by back against the wall, I cried waterless tears.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Darkness pressed in on me like a physical force, crushing my chest, making each breath a tragic battle. The voice had gone. Rubbing my face with scared, rutted hands, I sighed in relief to be free of the voice. The heated stones gnarled into my back and cut into my feet. Like many times, as in my past, I figured I could get use to any situation and in time overcome it.

  The heat increased. I couldn’t fill my lungs. I tried to stand. Fumbling I reached out for the wall, my legs became weak from the lack of oxygen. I screamed and fell.

  The floor was ice.

  ***

  “Come on! Hurry!”

  I fled from the house. Adjusting my shirt as I ran, jumping from the back porch and into the waiting car. Eric smiled as I closed the door and he sped away. The loud thump-thump of the bass faded as the car turned the corner and slipped into the night. He laughed.

  “Your mom was mad.” He had stretched out the last word, making it sound several syllables long.

  I looked at him, then out the window and continued fixing the buttons on my shirt.

  “I sent her to another party three blocks away, but it won’t take her long to figure out it’s the wrong party.” He looked at me and shook his head. “You don’t even care do you?” When I still didn’t respond, he turned his attention back to the road and kept driving.

  I curled in my bed, pulling the blankets over my head and deepening my breathing as if asleep. Shortly thereafter my mom came into the room and flicked on the light. Groaning, I rolled away from the light and feigned sleep.

  “You’re not fooling me, boy, I know you ain’t sleep.” My mother said in that stage of anger that grips a parent’s heart where fear has been relieved. “I told you to be home by midnight…it’s almost three in the morning!”

  Finally I rolled over to face her, still pretending to be waking. “What? I’ve been home. You weren’t here when I got back.”

  “Don’t lie to me!”

  I sat up revealing a bare chest, but still dressed from the waist down. “Mom, what are you talking about? I’ve been in bed.” I knew she couldn’t prove I hadn’t. Below me, on the bottom bunk, my brother stirred and began mumbling in his sleep. He would be no help to her.

  “We’re not through with this…we’ll talk in the morning.” She turned off the light as she left the room. I knew I should feel bad, but for now I was just glad she had not used the belt she carried in her hand. Smiling, I rolled over and settled into the pillow, preparing for sleep for real this time.

  ***

  Darkness. Cold. Intense heat. The return of cold. Silence.

  ***

  I was finally a senior, graduation only a week away. We had it all planned out. Immediately following the graduation ceremony, we would both skip out on family parties and have one of our own design.

  As the day in question arrived, Eric was his usual self, slow to decide and needing to be shown the way. “Come on.” I encouraged him. He looked at me and then back at his mother sitting around the table with the rest of his family. Finally he nodded his head and let the screen door close softly behind him.

  This time, I was driving, and good thing too, because we all knew how Eric got once he’s been drinking. And if our plans went the way we set them, there would be a whole lot of drinking going on tonight.

  I slowed the vehicle and Eric opened the door. “Hey ladies, been waiting long?” I asked, purposely adding a sense of smoothness and enticement to my voice.

  “I don’t know,” Deborah said, leaning forward, allowing us both a view of her ample cleavage, “somebody promised me a party tonight and I’m ready to romp.”

  Her friend, Sarah, held herself back, not as forward as her earthly friend. I thought… I’d have to sample them both. Eric ushered Deborah into the front seat, and then followed Sarah into the rear.

  After parking out near the lake and enjoying all the carnal delights that came as a packaged deal with Deborah, I decided to take a short walk near the tree line. There I found Sarah sitting on a fallen log, just beyond where the water pipe fed the lake.

  Silver moonlight reflected of the mirror surface of the water and shimmering stars danced as if in chorus. From the far side of the lake, conifer trees reached their limbs in the inverted sky as their image too reflected across the still surface of the water. Once our appetites for passion had been filled we returned to the car only to find that both Eric and Deborah sat waiting and looking for us.

  “Man,” Eric began, “this is low even for you.”

  “What?” I played my usual innocent self. He didn’t challenge me; he never did, but simply shook his head and turned away. I walked over to Deborah and pulled her into my embrace. She stiffened.

  Pushing her away to arms length, I looked into her eyes. “I thought you wanted to party… I’m here, let the party begin.” Sarah started some music on the car’s stereo and I took Deborah’s hand and began to dance.

  The beat of the music intensified and I began to spin and swirl around like a child playing helicopter. I began to feel lightheaded from too much smoke and wine, dancing I laughed out loud, spinning until I collapsed from exhaustion.

  Crumbling to the floor, I screamed. Hot stones tore into my flesh. The voice had returned. “I called to you, but you would not come.”

  “Get out of my head!”

  “I played for you, but you would not dance to my tune.”

  “Leave me alone!”

  “I shed my blood for you, but you drank instead the wine of this world until you became drunk with her.”

  “Leave me alone!”

  “I loved you.”

  “I don’t want your love!”

  “I love you.”

  I cursed. “Leave me alone! Get out of my head!”

  The voice left me and the oppressive silence returned. As much as I hated the sound of His voice, I longed for it; I missed it deeply, as if my heart had been made to sing its chorus.

  I rolled to my knees and bit back another curse as the hot stones gouged into my kneecaps. I would not give Him the pleasure of my tears. “What do you want from me?” I yelled into the darkness. My throat burned from thirst, and
still the sound of water continued dripping unseen in the darkness.

  “What do you want? Do you want me to admit that you were right, that you won?!” I forced myself to stand in my Quasimodo crouch and shuffled around my cell. “I didn’t force Eric to come with me, and both those girls got exactly what they wanted. Me.”

  A dry crackling sound filled my head and I realized I was laughing. “That’s it, isn’t it? You’re jealous that those people followed me instead of you… that they loved me more than they loved you. Ha!” I pointed a ragged finger toward the ceiling.

  “I beat you and there’s not a thing you can do about it.”

  “You were a blind leader of the blind; and if you are blind then you and those that followed you would fall into the ditch.”

  I turned looking for someone to hit and punched the wall instead. I felt the bone in my knuckle snap and the pain added to what was already there. “I didn’t do so bad. I was successful.”

  The darkness began to fade, growing deeper, somehow. I rubbed my eyes and when I looked up I could see. I lifted my face and found that I was looking at the shoulder of a woman’s black dress. It was Miss Swift, Eric’s mother. Looking beyond her, I saw Eric, or rather his body.

  He lay in an open casket, his gloved hands folded neatly across his chest. The charcoal gray suit had been his favorite. The mortician had done a great job; the bullet wound that had ended his life was barely visible beneath the makeup.

  As I made my way back to my seat, I remember how Eric had told me he was going to see Sarah. He was so sure of himself.

  “Don’t do it,” I’d said. I didn’t expect him to challenge me, but he had.

  “What you, you’re the only one that can get with that? What, she too good for me?” He was angry.

  “No-no… Man. It’s not like that… she’s not good enough for you. You remember graduation night at the lake? I thought she was all that, back then, but that girl laid down with anyone with a baggie or a bottle.”

  He harrumphed. “Well I guess it’s my turn, huh?” He buttoned his shirt and rubbed cologne onto his face. He had turned and smiled at me.