"Don’t do that. Not in front of the children." His voice was no longer pleasant.
"Last night, some of the savages managed to get over the fence - in error the current was turned off," he said, his voice cold as ice.
Rosa thought of the ominous note she had found in the past. They had made their threat good. She felt faint. "Water, I need a drink of water please," she whispered.
"Luke, help Rosa to the kitchen" Anderson said - and suddenly everyone dispersed.
Luke took her arm and slowly they walked to the kitchen. She sat wordlessly at the table, and Luke brought her a glass of cold water.
How odd she thought, it's his mother who died and he's taking care of me. She looked at the boy closely, seeing how his sallow color almost hid his good looks. His eyes looked blank, his whole being was flat. Maybe he's in shock, she thought, not remembering that he always looked pretty much the same.
She thanked him and sipped the water slowly. "I'll be all right," she said. "I'll do whatever needs to be done."
Luke nodded and left her alone in the silent kitchen. She watched the second hand on the clock, not knowing what else to do, when Anderson came into the room she made an effort to retain her composure.
Uncharacteristically, he sat down across from her at the small oak table. "Rosa, I know Christine thought a lot of you, so I'm really sorry to tell you that I can only offer you one more week of full time work. The house is already sold and we're leaving the country."
She nodded and he went on. "If you need a reference, I'll be happy to provide it - and maybe the new owners would be interested in your services."
"Thank you," she answered, she could hardly look at him and her skin crawled in his presence.
"It's the garden - if you could just do a clean-up today I would be most grateful."
She nodded, agreeing.
"There is so much to do, cleaning, packing, a million details. Can I expect you daily next week?"
"Some days I do not have a woman to watch the children," she explained.
"That's all right,” he said kindly, “bring them along. Christine always loved the sound of their laughter and play." He said the gentle words to her, but she saw his eyes - like Luke's, they were blank dead things with no light. She nodded and he patted her arm before he left the room. She shuddered at his touch.
Taking the large trash bags, she opened the back door and stepped out into the yard. The chaotic scene that greeted her reflected a night of pure horror and madness.
The bushes and flowers were trampled and the gold fish were laid out on the brick patio, their small sun-drenched corpses spelling the word "Shit".
She found Christine's bra torn into three pieces and bits of cloth that had been her slip and pants decorated the bushes like a sinister Christmas tree.
Cans, bottles and other garbage littered the tables and the candles had melted into the tablecloth and run down the sides to form abstract patterns.
When she found the broken strand of pearls, she sank down into the litter and cried helplessly as her fingers searched frantically for the lost beads - as if finding them could somehow mend what had happened here.
The shadow of the fence fell across the lawn and she looked up to see a covey of crows sitting patiently watching her. Suddenly she knew the fence was not a good thing; she felt a presence issue from its tall black spikes - an evil presence that was real.
It was then that she noticed the dogs, quiet but watchful as they lay in a hollow of earth they had dug for themselves by the fence. She walked over and saw what it was that they guarded so faithfully - visible stains on the metal, dark rusty red stains on the spikes.
It was here that Christine had died, here on this horrible fence.
Rosa's breakfast came up and she retched until she could only heave dryly.
She knew she would never forget the horror. She knew, too, that from now on she would be afraid to asleep, afraid that in her dreams she would see clearly what had happened to Mrs. Thorpe here on this horrible fence.
In the bright hot sun Rosa shivered uncontrollably and remembered last night. The shadows she had seen in her dreams, dark and unclear, had by some link been connected to Mrs. Thorpe. The men who had done this terrible thing had walked in her dreams.
Rosa went inside the house and saw Rachael in the hall. The girl was ghost-like in her appearance, pale and trembling and her eyes avoided Rosa.
“Here,” Rosa said as she held out her arms to Rachael. For a moment the girl hesitated but then shaking her head – no – Rachael turned and ran down the hall.
Chapter 23
The dogs lay waiting at the fence for their mistress who would not return. They verbalized their mourning with necks stretched high, their howls in the night eerie as old as civilization. The sound, reminiscent of wolves out of reach, far from the camp fires, still feeling an affinity for the other animals, the humans.
Days passed. The grass died in the spot where they lay. Neither dog touched its food, but both drank enormous quantities of water. They did not respond to the strangers who came to the house or to the furniture left in odd places, to be moved in stages somewhere else, to some other room, some other place. Nothing affected the lethargy of the dogs in their sorrow.
When the new owners came, they were shown the box, the key, the marvelous protection of the fence, but they did not accept the offer of the dogs as they were too gaunt, too lethargic; they no longer performed on cue; all the training seemed to have been wasted. A pity. Suddenly they had gone dumb, two lumbering creatures possessed by some duty to stay burrowed in the hollow of dirt, guarding the spot through sun and rain. They were pronounced unsalable and worthless. They could command no price.
Rachael could not bear watching them and after two enormous glasses of Nirvana, she solicited her brothers' help. They muzzled the dogs and carried the huge, struggling animals to the car. The three of them then drove to the wasteland east of Delmar where the boys, wearing thick leather gloves, wrenched the dogs' jaws open and poured down their throats the remaining years supply of aggression pills. After closing their mouths so the dogs had to swallow, the boys opened the car door and released them one at a time.
From the safety of the car, they saw the jolt of their thin bodies as the pills took hold. They watched them growling and tearing at each other until something more interesting appeared - a child. Their programmed anger now redirected at the moving target, like two wolfhounds they tore at her, fighting over her, exchanging her back and forth like a toy, tearing her apart bit by bit.
There were screams of terror as the dogs, crazy with the smell of blood and the chemicals raging through them like a river, crashed against cardboard houses. A man wielding a machete struck one dog in the side and the blood maddened creature snapped at its own entrails as they trailed behind it.
They drove away laughing. They had left behind them terror, panic, gore, and death running on four feet which would last until the pills ran down. They had also gotten rid of their mother's last possession.
When they got back to the house, Rachael was the last to get out of the car. A small metal object dropped to the pavement. She reached down to retrieve the heart-shaped tag and read the fancy script. "Pal," she said aloud. "Remember, we used to call the dog Pal - before - " and stopped, not really knowing how to explain "before".
"The other one was named Rover," Luke said. "That was before - " and he, too, stopped. They meant before . . . when the dogs had been beloved pets sleeping on the end of the beds, chewing up favorite socks, and playing Frisbee in the park.
"Mama really loved those dogs," Matt commented softly.
"Those dogs really loved her, too," Luke said.
All three looked at the tag in Rachael's hand and the unspoken thought was between them ---
Mama really loved everybody.
The shadow of the fence fell upon them and they heard it distinctly - it whispered, "Good - Good, you've done well, children."
Rachael's hands
flew up to her ears to block out the sound, and she could see by the unbelieving looks on her brothers' faces that they heard it too. She ran into the house to empty her heaving stomach into the toilet.
But in the dining room, dinner was waiting and by each of their plates a tall glass of cool Nirvana waited.
Chapter 24
After two days, Rosa found the courage to return to the house on Portland Place.
Like a robot, she took the trash bags out into the yard and began picking up the litter.
After two hours of hard work in the hot sun, the garden looked presentable and all remnants of the tragedy that had happened there were gone.
Even the dogs were missing.
She surveyed the greenery one last time and noticed a bit of white debris by the fence that she had missed. By now her back ached dreadfully from all the bending, but she picked up the bit of plastic and started to throw it into the bulging trash bag. When she realized that it was a child's toy, she thought maybe one of her children had forgotten it.
As she unfurled the plastic parachute, a note dropped out. She picked it up, smoothed out the paper, and read, in Anderson's bold script, "Hang it on the fence, then its pay day". She read it over several times.
She clutched her fist over her mouth to contain the scream that rose to her lips. It was him - him - him - her mind repeated over and over. She felt faint with the horror of it. A voice behind her startled her.
"I'll get that last bag," she heard Luke say.
She nodded, looking away, and he took the bag back to the alley.
In the house, she couldn't bear the thought of facing anyone. She looked up and down the empty hallway and then quietly opened the basement door and went down into the studio.
She sat down among the broken lambs with her head against her knees and sobbed. After a while, she realized that she needed the Bible, the rosary - something to take the taste of bile from her mouth. Acts like this tested it sorely, but she could not lose her faith.
She slid open the panel, kissed the rosary, and held the Bible tightly against her chest. "Where are you, I need you," she pleaded to the unseen creator. "If you're there, if you really do exist, help me to understand," she begged.
Her tears flowed over the book. "Her children, that's all she ever wanted – was to protect her children," she said aloud.
She shivered with dread thinking he has them now, that monster who planned such a hideous murder, he has them all to himself. There is no one to protect them. Her thoughts made her tremble.
Finally drained of emotion, she stood up and whispered, "Mrs. Thorpe...Christine," and she smiled for she had finally called her Christine, "I watch over them, the children, I will help. I will do what I can, I promise."
When she went to replace the holy book, the bills fell out. Mrs. Thorpe had done it; she had kept her promise to a friend. Inside the hiding place was a thick brown envelope full of bills.
Upstairs, Rosa put the money in her purse and finished cleaning the kitchen.
Chapter 25
The half empty house made everyone’s selection of things that they wanted to take easier. Anderson methodically packed tapes, brochures, videos - the things necessary for the campaigns he would launch in Australia - and the chemicals. They were bothersome, but he wasn't sure they would be available in Australia. His first task when they arrived would be to find an inventive chemist. The drugs were the key to all his campaigns; products like Nirvana would be the first thing on the agenda and winds of forgetfulness.
The boys worried about how they could get the gun into Australia; if they had to leave it behind, they'd have to wait until their father had found a place to get them a new one. In the meantime, they kept score as they took turns leaning out the upstairs window shooting at the angels on the top of the fence. A distinctive ping told them when they had hit their target.
Anderson assumed Rachael knew about the kitchen things and asked her to pack the vials of concentrated Nirvana. But she was resentful about being made to work while her brothers played and she committed a grave error. She grabbed the tray roughly, it slipped, and twelve vials lay smashed on the pantry floor.
Panicked, for she was afraid of him, but still always wanted to please her father, she searched frantically through the supplies and finally found the carton of empty vials; now if she had just paid more attention to the kitchen and the concentrates for the various foods and drinks her father demanded that they eat.
Where was Rosa when she needed her? When she found her upstairs cleaning the bathroom, Rosa could see how upset the girl was.
"Rosa, I broke the vials and my father gets really mad if we don't eat certain foods and vitamins. Do you know about this stuff?
Rosa was ecstatic as it was a wonderful chance and she knew she would take it. "I'll brew it up for you," she promised. "Now run along."
Alone in the kitchen, Rosa sniffed at the mixture. Drugs - she knew drugs when she smelled them; her brother Pedro, had died of drugs a long time ago in Mexico.
She opened one of the capsules and tasted a bit. "I can do something for you, Mrs. Thorpe, I can do it for your children," she whispered. One by one, she opened the capsules, poured out the contents and replaced it with sugar.
She brewed lemon tea and added chocolate and flour until the mixture had the texture and color of the Nirvana concentrate.
When she finished, she found Rachael and pulled her into the large pantry. "I fixed it. It’s not quite the same, but is good. Your father not know. Rosa no tell him."
"Thank you," Rachael said, greatly relieved.
"You feel a little different - Nirvana not quite the same, but you be okay. And Rosa no tell nobody."
It was a couple of days after the mishap and Rachael did feel very different - strange and unwell. Her skin itched and her fingers felt unfinished - like protruding wires searching for something. She was packed, but she roamed the house and yard constantly. Her brothers also complained. "Don't tell him I broke the vials, you promised," she begged.
The pink winds of forgetfulness blew through the bars of the fence and the children inhaled and forgot what had occurred there.
Anderson was out when the urn with her mother's ashes was delivered.
"What should I do with it?" Rachael asked her brothers.
"I don't know," they answered.
The three teenagers looked at the lovely vase made of alabaster. The plate read: "Christine Thorpe. 1995-2032".
"Dad didn't mention the ashes," Matthew said.
"No, he didn't," Rachael agreed.
The boys went back upstairs to resume their game of shooting, and the ping of bull's-eyes filled the afternoon whenever they hit the fence.
Rachel's skin crawled in response to the withdrawal of the drugs. After circling the living room aimlessly, she went down into the basement, to the studio. Everywhere she looked there was the chaos of smashed lambs. She was glad that they were so ugly. Kook, I guess Mother was just a kook lost in time, she thought unkindly.
Noticing a dust-free spot on the floor, she touched the board and it shifted. It was a hiding place - her mother had secrets. She reached in and felt the beads. Taking out the rosary, she noticed the tiny figure on the cross. Funny, how strange these people were in the olden days.
She strung the beads through her hands and noticing its length, threw it over her head. It was broken, but she secured it with her teeth. A necklace - of course - that was its purpose, she thought.
Reaching into the hidden cache again, she drew out a large crystal. Imagine hiding a rock, she thought, but its terminals fascinated her. Wiping it clean, she blew on it. Her warm breath cleared the stone - and a brilliant rainbow bloomed.
Feeling strange, she reached in again and brought out a book, a Bible. It felt alive in her hands. Her name was there in the pages, and so were Luke's and Matthew's. From the pages a photograph slipped out; in the picture her brothers and she, were standing in front of some sort of tree, a tree with lights and glittery
things on it. She felt like she should remember it, but couldn't. That was such a long time ago - before Nirvana and Ecstasy and the lines of coke and the window pane acid trips – sadly it was a lost memory from a long time ago.
She stared at the childish faces in the faded photograph and strained to remember the funny thing she clutched in her arms. Suddenly she remembered, "Teddy, his name was Teddy," she said aloud.
She stopped and breathed deeply. She didn't feel well at all; she felt dizzy; she felt a great well of want inside her. She missed him - that furry thing to hold. She wrapped her arms around herself and rocked, amazed to find tears rolling down her cheeks. She could feel; she could feel and it hurt - it hurt terribly.
"Mama," she said aloud, "Mama, I miss you."
In her head she seemed to hear long forgotten lullabies and she felt afraid. She wanted these hidden things to keep. Her father, he mustn't find them. Now she understood her mother's stealth. Where could she hide them? And could there be more secret things? Where should she look?
In her mother's bedroom, under the bed, in a hatbox, she found more.
She found a book, a story book about love and tenderness and caring - a romance. Did people really feel that way? She wondered. Jealousy, pure and strong, sprung up within her. She wanted those feelings - those warm and soft feelings.
She found a tape and anxious that her father not know about it, put on the headset to hear it. A voice, pure as crystal, singing "Ave Maria" filled her body with ecstasy.
At that moment, she knew that she had been rendered numb and had missed all of life's wonders.
When looking closely at Luke and Matthew, she saw a restlessness within them that had not been there before, their bodies were strangers to them without the chemicals of Nirvana coursing through their bloodstreams.
Rachael felt as if she were a prisoner among them. She knew, they did not. But the days without Nirvana told on her, and the dark circles under her eyes made her appear older.
Elias's Fence Page 17
