Immersion

by J M Hart

  Shaun rushed around the back of the house trying to find a way in, calling out to his dad. Shaun searched the backyard hoping his dad had stumbled out the back door. He screamed, “Dad! Dad!” … no one came. Not a neighbor stirred. He was alone and screaming at the top of his lungs for help. He tripped, got back up and ran towards the drainpipe and started climbing. It was hot and he could smell his skin burning. He kept climbing.

  *

  Kevin headed back to his dad’s Dodge following the glow of torchlight as they swept across the dirt path. Hoisting himself up into the car he heard a cry for help. It sounded as if it was a street away on the other side of the vacant lot. It would take ten minutes to drive around. Daniel started running; Kevin jumped down and chased after him, with Tim following close on his heels.

  “House fire,” Daniel yelled to the boys.

  Daniel, Kevin and Tim entered the street and could see flames over the top of the houses. Kevin knew the fire wasn’t too far away, just around the next corner. They entered the next street and saw Shaun’s house engulfed with flames.

  Kevin saw Shaun in pain, rushing up the pipe, trying to avoid the flames.

  “Get down,” Daniel yelled. “Kevin, get the hose and aim it at Shaun and the pipe.”

  Shaun kept climbing; Daniel ran up to the house and wrapped his shirt around his hands and started to climb after him.

  *

  Shaun suddenly felt someone hit his leg from behind, gripping his calf muscle and pulling him down. He hoped it was his dad. He looked down and saw Kevin’s dad. Shaun’s hands slipped and he found himself falling. It wasn’t a long fall, but it seemed to Shaun to go on forever; he started to think of how many times he had fallen off the roof over the years. His back hit the ground and he couldn’t catch his breath. He let himself drift, hoping he was dead, then he could see his mom and Rachel and tell them how sorry he was that he couldn’t save either of them.

  He passed out.

  *

  They couldn’t hear any emergency vehicles. Nobody was coming, Kevin thought. He held the hose pointed at the house, feeling uneasy, his skin crawling. The air was getting thicker and he could feel mosquitoes biting at his neck. Even in the face of so much smoke they were determined to attack. “What are we going to do, Dad?” Kevin said, slapping at the bugs on his neck. “Shaun’s dad must be in there.”

  “Something is terribly wrong, K. Look at that glow on the horizon. It’s the city burning.”

  “Dad, we have to leave.”

  “I’m with you, K.”

  His mom pulled up, yanking on the handbrake, the Dodge screeching to a stop. She leapt from the truck with the first-aid bag, Jade close on her heels. They both went to Shaun. Jade watched him and Tim hose down the house using the neighbor’s hose.

  She looked around the street and he could see her noticing the empty houses, where no lights flickered and no curtains were drawn back.

  “Where is everyone?” she said.

  Shaun started to come around, trying to sit up, mumbling as Callie nursed his burnt hands.

  “Shh, just relax. You’re safe now,” she said.

  Shaun collapsed back onto the ground while Callie finished wrapping cold wet bandages around his burnt hands.

  “You right to walk?” Callie asked.

  “Sure. What about my dad?”

  Nobody said anything.

  “He’s probably at the pub,” Shaun said to them.

  Callie and Jade helped him into the back of the Dodge.

  “You’re probably concussed,” Jade said, putting on his seat belt for him. The boys jumped into the open back tray.

  Daniel drove home. No one spoke as they pulled into the garage. Kevin stayed seated in the back watching the lowering of the electronic garage door locking out the world.

  7

  Echoes of the dead: Casey. England.

  “I’m going to make that rat’s hole a hell of a lot bigger.” Terry stood, dusting off the dirt, then picked up the mallet. Casey still lay on his belly, waving the torch through the opening. “You might want to move?” Terry suggested.

  “What?” Casey turned and looked at Terry with the mallet, and sprang to his feet.

  Terry swung, smashing the stone wall of the basement. It buckled. He swung again, a few stones dislodging and dropping to the ground. He cleared an opening wide enough for them to explore what was beyond the basement.

  Casey ran upstairs for a second torch while Terry peered into the space beyond the wall. Running back down the stairs he nearly tripped on the last step, but managed to save himself from falling. They stepped through the hole into a chamber with two tunnels. Water was dripping down the wall rhythmically, pooling near their feet. Flickering, like fireflies, darted at the edge of the torch beams. They both shivered. In the corners, beyond the light, Casey caught a glimpse of a sudden movement. Terry turned to Casey knowing they had both sensed something, but neither knew what to say or do and chose to follow the beams of light.

  Terry started off towards the tunnels, with Casey reluctantly following. Walking backwards to point the torch at the entrance Terry had made, he swept the light across the wall: rats, just rats. He turned, bumping into Terry.

  “Where do you think this goes?” Terry said, stopping at the mouth to one of the two tunnels.

  “Have no idea.” Up on the wall near Terry’s head, Casey saw an old hook with a bucket and a wooden baton fixed on the wall next to it. “What’s that?”

  “It’s probably for tar. You’d dip the baton, then hit two pieces of flint together and … let there be light.”

  “You missed your calling, you know that, don’t you,” Casey said. “Can we try it?”

  “I don’t think it would work,” Terry said.

  The light penetrated further into the tunnel, startling the rats out of the darkness. They rushed over and around Casey’s feet. Terry jumped back, knocking into Casey and they both nearly fell on top of the rats.

  Casey said with a slight smirk, “Just rats, Terry, just rats.”

  Terry held onto Casey’s arms, acting as if he was helping him. “You right, pal?”

  Casey decided to go along with him. “Yeah. A bit freaked, you?”

  “I wasn’t expecting them, that’s all,” Terry said, hiking up his pants.

  The walls were cold and wet and getting narrower. The sound of bones crunching under their feet was like seashells. “Terry, we should go back.”

  “Just a little further. I felt a breeze, this has to lead to somewhere,” Terry said.

  Casey touched the cave wall, his fingertips slipping into tiny indents that made the wall look like a giant sea sponge. Something splashed on him from above and he flipped his torch quickly upward. Within a split second his imagination took over and he saw saliva dripping from the fangs of a rabid bat, but the light revealed nothing more than an empty cavity. He could see Terry was getting ahead of him. He moved quickly to catch up. The tunnel widened into another chamber with more passages branching off.

  Terry had stopped and was nervously scanning the walls. Shining the light as far down the tunnels as possible, while trying to hide his own apprehension, he said, “This is just going to keep going.”

  A stale smell, a metallic taste, sat heavy in Casey’s mouth and irritated his nose. The sound of the dripping from the passageway became louder in his mind. There were pieces of wood and a jug protruding up from the ground.

  “Alright,” Terry said, looking over his shoulder. “I think you’re right. I think for now this is far enough. We’ll probably get lost if we go any further.”

  “This is a little freaky,” Casey said. “Do you think we’re still on the property?”

  “Na, don’t believe so.” Terry turned around, thinking, looking left and right, then back at the jug. “Look at this old thing. Maybe it’s still full of rum. What do you think, matey?”

  Terry picked up a piece of the wood and started digging around the jug. He picked it up and shook it — empty. Unde
r the jug, a bone was half buried, and he pulled and wiggled it until it came free.

  “That doesn’t look like a rat’s bone to me,” Casey said.

  “Maybe it’s not, maybe it’s human,” Terry said jokingly. He handed the bone to Casey. Casey looked at it; he didn’t want Terry to think he was scared, because he wasn’t treating him like a kid any more most of the time. But Casey hesitated, pushing his long curls up off his brow and out of his eyes. He rubbed his hands on his shirt. He knew he shouldn’t doubt his feelings, but he wanted to go along with Terry, who was trying to be playful, a big kid.

  Arm extended, ready to grab the bone, Casey dropped his arm to his side. “You know, on second thoughts, I’ll pass. We should go back and check on Amy,” he said, scratching his ear.

  “Go on, it won’t bite,” Terry said, shoving it forward. “Take it.”

  “It could be diseased, or something,” Casey said.

  “What are you afraid of?” Terry playfully thrust it forward like a sword. Casey quickly sucked in his stomach, hoping it wouldn’t touch him. Terry continued his banter, pushing it into the boy’s chest. Casey seized the bone with both hands, trying to push it away, his body was instantly paralyzed and pain raced up his arm, into his shoulder. The sound of a young woman screaming filled his head, along with the image of her arm being ripped out of its socket. Casey’s stomach exploded with pain, as she was kicked. The pressure on his lower back was horrific. He tried to move, heat crawled up his spine and he felt like his insides were going to drop to the floor.

  Casey could barely hear or see Terry yelling at him to let go. He couldn’t feel him wrestling with the bone, prying at his fingers, one by one until he let go. At that moment, Casey’s body folded, dropped to the ground, and he grabbed his stomach and curled into a ball, crying.

  Terry threw the bone away and it cracked as it hit the wall. “What the hell?”

  He crouched down beside Casey and held him in his arms. Casey could hear him whispering like he had the first day he had found him lying on the road, reassuring him he was safe. He could see Terry’s alarm and confusion. Casey was scared and skittish as if someone was there waiting, waiting to deliver another blow to his abdomen. He held tight onto Terry, hiding in his aura, not wanting to let go.

  The feeling of being inside the woman’s body was dissipating. He had never been so aware of how his own body felt until he couldn’t feel it. He was grateful it had stopped. He was petrified, nervous, violated, and afraid it would start again. He slowly sat up with the distinct taste of blood in his mouth.

  He watched Terry’s hand lift to his own face, rubbing his eyebrows, concerned. He was trying to comprehend what had happened.

  Terry brought his hand back down and patted Casey gently on his back, and asked him if he was all right. “What happened pal?”

  Casey’s torch was lying on the ground, shining down the right-hand tunnel; he thought he saw something move. He turned away and looked at Terry. He didn’t know what to tell him. He probably thinks I’m crazy anyway. That’s not fair, Terry’s not like that, he has always been there for me. What the heck. “It belonged to a young servant girl, the bone. Her arm was dislocated, ripped out of its socket. She was malnourished, her bones were frail. She was beaten and kicked to death because she was pregnant with her master’s child.” Casey watched Terry’s jaw drop. He didn’t blink but he shivered, and Casey could see his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed.

  Terry looked back towards the bone, then back at Casey, and studied his face. “How, how do you know this?”

  “I don’t know. It has never happened like that before.”

  “What has happened before?”

  “You know, how like, when we were getting supplies at the baby store and I told you not to open the storage door. You did and the wolves were — well, you know. And then like, the book I gave you.”

  “I thought you were just having a lend with the book, and I thought you must have heard something in the storage room that made you cautious. I don’t know much about this sort of stuff. Sorry, pal, Amy will know what to say. Hang on, does that mean we are really having twins? Never mind, I don’t want to know.”

  Casey could see Terry was confused, but he didn’t see any look of sneering judgement that an adult has when they think a kid is lying. He could see the worry in his eyes, his teeth clenched, thinking hard. Terry hauled him to his feet and dusted him off and Casey felt the man’s strength and his need to protect Casey. He had never known his father, but he imagined him to be just like Terry. If Terry could’ve carried him, without embarrassing Casey, he would have. Instead, he looked down at Casey’s feet making sure they were both planted firmly on the ground.

  “Let’s get you out of here to die another day.”

  Casey had to smile. “You think you’re funny, don’t you?”

  “Uh huh. You right to walk?”

  “Yeah.” He held Terry’s gaze, then at the corner of his eye he saw movement coming from the left passage and his eyes opened wide.

  “What?” Terry said.

  Casey leant closer and whispered. Terry bent down to hear. “We’re not alone.”

  “The servant girl?” Terry whispered.

  “No, don’t turn, let’s just go.”

  Terry picked up Casey’s torch and handed it to him. Scared, they both acted as casually as possible, walking back the way they had come, trying to be rational and not run. Ducking through the entrance, back into the basement, they quickly dragged the old trunks across the floor and stacked them against the opening. They moved at a fast pace and raced up the stairs to the kitchen, locking the door behind them.

  *

  Amy was sitting in the sunroom on a daybed. Even though the windows were boarded up, her head was tilted towards them, as if the sun was shining and warming her face. Sensing she was no longer alone, she opened her eyes. It took her a moment to focus and they stood silently. She looked to Casey like someone had just walked over her grave. Casey started to feel sick, bile rising into his throat. He felt himself go pale and gagged.

  Amy jumped up. “Sit down,” she said. She pulled him towards her and sat him down on the edge of the daybed.

  His foot struck her book. He nearly tripped, accidentally kicking it open. “Sorry,” he said as he continued to gag.

  “Lean forward, put your elbows on your knees and your head in your hands, take slow breaths.”

  Casey did as she suggested. As he cast his eyes down they locked with the different letters of the open book. His mouth tasted of blood and he coughed violently, needing to spit. Amy passed him a tissue and he wiped his mouth, expecting it to be red with blood, so he was surprised when it wasn’t.

  “What happened to you guys, Terry?” She breathed out slowly as if she had been holding her breath. “Guys, someone has to let me in,” she said.

  Terry fetched two glasses of water, gave one to Casey and sat beside him. Amy was pacing the room. “What happened, what’s wrong? Are both of you going to just sit there and say nothing? I know something’s not right.”

  Terry sat back against the sofa to lift his head towards the ceiling and then dropped it down, stretching it and rubbing his neck. “You’d better sit down,” he said. He then proceeded to describe the events as best he could, although it sounded strange. Casey spoke up to explain what he had experienced and Amy’s faced was mapped with confusion. She stood and paced up and down the room trying to comprehend what Terry had said. “Casey! You had a vision of a young woman’s death by touching a bone that was centuries old?”

  She looks worried. Casey could see her thinking, while he sat quietly on the lounge studying her face wondering what she was going to do. Surely they weren’t going to keep him around once the twins were born; he was too creepy. They were probably regretting adopting him, and once the world got back to normal they would almost certainly send him to boarding school. Out of the corner of his eye, Casey saw a mist of energy move from the shadows and float into the hallway
and up the stairs. The floorboard at the top of the landing sighed under some phantom weight, and they all looked in that direction, waiting, but there was only silence. Different smells wafted into the room, some pleasant, some not so. Amy looked like she was trying to focus on something that was hovering just out of sight. When the wind stirred outside, the windows behind the boards began to rattle.

  “It’s a tornado!” Terry yelled.

  “They don’t have tornadoes here!” Amy yelled back. The sound got louder as if a thousand pebbles were being pelted against the house.

  Casey and Terry were on their feet and Amy was coming towards them. Casey witnessed the room fill with apparitions. Making a run for it, Amy scooped up her book from near Casey’s feet and a circle of light radiated from the book, concealing them. Amy, Terry and Casey disappeared, becoming ghosts. Huddled together in the gentle whirlwind they saw people forming silhouettes, then colorful auras, and clothing from different time periods, moving around as if they belonged. A young woman sat in the side chair across the room and a man opposite her was smoking a pipe, the smell of tobacco filling the room. They talked and laughed casually.

  “That couple are from the photo in the basement,” Amy whispered.

  Some of the ghosts look confused and lost, Casey thought. An old man kept repeating his movements, taking a book off the shelf and putting it back, taking it off the shelf and putting it back. A woman in a long black maid’s dress with a white cotton apron walked into the room, seized the doorknob and walked backwards and closed the door. The door flung open by itself. The maid again walked into the room, seized the door handle, and walked backwards out of the room to close it.

  “Those ones are just memories,” he said pointing to the bookcase. “The people that keep repeating themselves are emotional memories. There is no stream of consciousness,” he said.