“I’m impressed. I can’t imagine how much a set-up like this must have cost.” It was a question framed as a statement. She wouldn’t ask the price of a thing...that was a monstrous no-no in our social circle. And I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of telling even if she had. It was a small revenge, but one I enjoyed nevertheless – an appetizer before the feast.
“I’ll give you the grand tour,” I said, then watched as she scrutinized everything. She wanted to be able to give a full report to our friends...it would make for an entertaining story during one of those dinner parties when Robert and I weren’t present. I could imagine Karen’s animated face as she shared the details of our cozy underground refuge. I could hear Barbara’s donkey-bray laughter at the mention of the stockpiled toilet paper; see the smug glint of schadenfreude in Josie’s mean little piggy eyes, and feel the subtle, inevitable expulsion of Robert and me from the group. We would be ostracized for the weirdos that we were.
“Are we eating down here?” Karen asked after she had memorized every detail.
“On a beautiful day like this? You can stay down here, buried under thousands of pounds of dirt and steel in the middle of nowhere and miles away from another living person. I’ll be enjoying my lunch above ground. I’ll lock the door behind me on my way out.”
I gave her my best smile. Oddly enough, it made her frown.
I watched her edge toward the stairs. I imagined my own eyes now must contain a Josie-like glint of something. We stared at each other unblinking for seventeen heartbeats.
I couldn’t contain myself any longer, and burst out laughing.
“I’m just fucking with you, Karen. I have to admit, you really pissed me off by telling everyone about our bunker. I thought it would only be fair to put a little scare into you. Come on. Let’s go up and have lunch. That bottle of L’Ermita Priorat is calling to you. Do you hear it? Kaaaren...Kaaaren...”
She visibly relaxed, then gave me a remorseless grin. “About that, well, what can I say? I have a big mouth. Sorry, Olivia.”
I didn’t respond while ushering her back up the steps and into the late October sunshine. I secured the blast door behind us.
We spread out the fancy cheeses and fresh fruit on the new picnic table, built just this past spring; the lumber was still fragrant. She poured the wine while I set out plates and napkins. It was an elegant spread for such an isolated, remote setting.
“What’s that over there?” She pointed toward a bricked structure twenty yards away.
“That’s our well. We’re still excavating it. Do you want to see?”
She nodded, took a slurp of the fine wine, and followed me to a gaping hole in the ground. Robert hadn’t hit the water table.
“How far down does it go?” she asked, shading her eyes from the sun and peering down into the blackness from two feet away.
“Get a bit closer and you can see the bottom,” I said. “Just a little more. See it? Right...down...THERE!”
With the last word, I pushed her into the void. I knew exactly how deep it was because Robert had dug it to my specifications.
Her screams came to an abrupt halt when she hit ground thirty feet down. I listened to her moans for a few minutes, then said, “I guess the fall didn’t kill you. That’s kind of a good news-bad news thing.”
“Olivia, help me! I think my leg is broken!” Her voice floated up wraith-like from the pit.
“What a shame,” I said to the wraith. “That means you can’t climb up. Not that it would matter,” I added, putting the first wooden slat in place. It had been cut in advance to fit into the opening of the brickwork. “Even if you were able to claw your way out of a three-story shaft with a broken leg, you couldn’t get out.” I put another slat across the opening, and then a third. The lumber would be the scaffolding for my masonry. Robert had delivered the bricks and freshly mixed mortar just before we arrived.
I whistled a little tune while I slathered a layer of wet cement blended with water and sand onto the boards. I paused, listening to the weeping and the moaning coming from below. I thought about the pain of all the beatings I had endured as a result of my friend’s betrayal. I imagined the agony she must be in. I smiled...another real one.
“Olivia, please! I thought we were friends! Why are you doing this? Help meeeee!” The last word was an extended sob.
I ignored her, continuing with my chore. I pictured how that waning circle of sunlight would look from thirty feet down.
I had never done this sort of thing before in my life, neither the brickwork nor the wet work. I admired the straightness of my lines and the symmetry of my handiwork as I put the last brick in place.
Finally, blessed silence.
I thought about our group of friends, and wondered how the dynamic would change with the loss of a key member. I considered the other females who had proven to be even less loyal than poor, miserable, backstabbing Karen.
Perhaps I would have another opportunity to try my hand at masonry again.
Wyvern
Aikana was well beyond the safety perimeter of her village, but she found herself excited by the notion of intentionally putting herself in danger. This was the area where the flying beast had been spotted two days earlier, and she hoped (and also feared) it would appear again today in the same location. She stood near the edge of a circular clearing, an hour’s trek from her hut, peering at the blue sky in the hole of the forest canopy. She squatted, leaning her back against a capuacu tree. Her timing was perfect; the cocoa-tasting fruit was just ripe enough to eat, so she would not go hungry while she waited for the reappearance of the creature.
Bakairi had been the one to see it first, and the telling of the story at the tribe’s communal fire pit had likely been embellished – Bakairi was the best storyteller of them all. So even though Aikana would be in some trouble with her father for this adventure, it would be worth it if she brought back a compelling tale. Her family’s status would be elevated, and they would all reap the rewards in terms of deference and respect within their tribe.
She used her flint knife to cut open the tough rind of the capuacu fruit, then dug some of the flesh out with her fingers. If there were time, she would scale the tree and bring back more of these for her family; they were a favorite of her father, who was known for his love of sweets.
She heard a rustling in the bracken on the other side of the glade. She withdrew further into the dense foliage to camouflage herself. The paint smeared upon her face and body would help make her almost invisible – there were few who could disappear as well as Aikana.
She waited, barely breathing, wondering what would emerge. Bromeliads and ficus leaves swayed in such a way as to indicate the passing of a person, and a rather clumsy one at that. Not like Aikana herself, who could glide like a ghost through the forest.
So she was not surprised to see Kayapo stumble out into the clearing. She smirked at his lack of grace. Truly it was a miracle the boy had survived in this perilous world as long as he had. There was no shortage of predators here, and if Bakairi had spoken the truth, they now had a new threat now.
She made a hissing sound with her teeth and her tongue. Kayapo heard it (his hearing was at least adequate), and darted across the open space. She rolled her eyes at the stupidity of exposing himself in this way, but she was somewhat impressed he had targeted her exact position.
He grinned at her in her hiding spot, and she felt her face pull up in a smile too. Despite his shortcomings in other areas, he was a handsome boy. Many of the village girls had set their sights on him, so being here alone with him now would make for a titillating story at the women’s gathering in the morning. And if she managed to see the flying beast, she would have two thrilling stories to tell. She felt giddy at the prospect.
“What are you doing here, Kayapo?” she whispered, “besides making noise and alerting all the sharp-toothed creatures to our presence.”
He smiled, undaunted by the chastisement. “The same as you, I expect. I
want to see the flying beast.”
“You want to have the story for yourself then,” she said with a frown.
He shrugged. “I do not want the same story as Bakairi told. Something new would be welcome, for myself and the rest of the tribe. Life can be so boring sometimes.”
“But we traveled here less than two moons ago. How can you be bored so soon?”
“Because even though we changed the location of our village, the sights and sounds and smells are still the same. We simply moved from one part of the forest to another.” He gestured to the massive canopy of trees which extended as far as the eye could see. “Would you not like something new and exciting for a change?”
She shook her head. “No, I am not interested in that. We have comfortable and happy lives. It is not wise to speak of having more,” she said with a disdainful sniff. They were treading on dangerous ground now. There existed within their community a kind of informal covenant to not discuss discontentment or restlessness. They were taboo subjects, like talking about spirits or witches.
“I shall speak about whatever I like,” he replied. There was defiance in his tone, and it made Aikana uncomfortable. To go against tribal laws, even the unspoken ones, was shocking. But she had to admit, it was also rather intriguing, and the audacity made her look at Kayapo in a new light. Perhaps there was more to this boy than just a symmetrical face and white, even teeth.
“And what would you do with something new and exciting? A new food? What if it were poisonous? A new skill? What if you hurt yourself in the learning of it? A new animal to hunt? You are not excellent with those.” She indicated the bow hanging on Kayapo’s back and the quiver of arrows nestled beside it.
“Maybe I am better than you think,” he said, sticking his tongue out at her. She worried that she had gone too far and offended him, so was relieved when he flashed another grin.
“Yes, and perhaps the moon is made of goat curds,” she said.
He laughed. “Perhaps, perhaps. Oh, what is that noise? Do you hear it?” Kayapo cocked his head, listening to something.
“No. I do not hear anything.”
“That is because even though you have better stealth, I have superior hearing.”
“What does it sound like?”
“It sounds like a distant waterfall.”
Aikana nodded. She knew what that sounded like. There were many waterfalls in their forest. “I think I hear it too,” she said after a moment.
They crouched together now, concealed in the thick brush, as the sound became louder.
“It cannot be a waterfall. They do not move about.”
“It may be the flying beast!” Kayapo said.
Suddenly her stomach felt like it was full of butterflies. She clutched Kayapo’s hand. He gave hers a reassuring squeeze.
The noise became more thunderous with every passing moment. Aikana’s heart was also thunderous in her chest as she watched the circle of blue sky, waiting for the appearance of the flying beast.
When it showed itself, it took her breath away.
The creature’s dark skin was smooth and sleek, like that of the tree python. Its feet were thin and elongated. Aikana could not imagine how a creature could run on feet like those, but it was a flying beast, after all. The predatory birds in their forest were rarely seen to walk.
“I cannot believe what I am witnessing!” Kayapo whispered.
“It is just as Bakairi described, but even more terrifying,” she said, her voice quivering.
Kayapo took his eyes off the creature to study the girl next to him. He saw fear on the pretty face.
“I do not think it can see us, Aikana. We are well hidden.”
“I wish I had not come here. I wish I had not seen this thing. Now I will be forever haunted by the image of it. We should kill it, Kayapo, so it can never discover our village and so it may never invade my dreams.”
He nodded. “If we were to kill the beast, you would have an even better story to tell at the fire tonight.”
Aikana gave him a shaky smile. She was so terrified she might have made some yellow water on the ground where she squatted. She saw sudden resolve in the handsome face, and watched as he sprang from their hiding place and strode into the clearing.
“Kayapo, no!” she hissed.
He ignored her, trudging through the tall grass below the open blue sky. He withdrew his bow and notched it with an arrow as he stalked the beast flying in languid circles just above the highest kapok tree. The movement of its wings stirred the leaves and caused the branches to sway, like they would during the worst of the coming autumn storms.
Aikana watched in dismay as the creature swooped lower now, toward Kayapo. Would fire come forth from its mouth, as in the ancient stories? Would those awkward feet extend claws and rip her friend apart, like a jaguar had done to her little brother years before? She squeezed her eyes shut to save herself from the unfolding horror, but soon she could no longer bear the agony of not knowing what was happening.
“Kayapo! Get back here! It is coming for you!” She yelled now, not bothering to conceal her presence.
“Stupid boy...stupid boy...” she mumbled to herself as she readied her own weapon.
She emerged into the clearing now too. The creature saw her, as revealed by its abrupt shift in her direction. Its snout now pointed directly at her.
Her bladder emptied. With warm liquid gushing down her legs, she stood her ground and unleashed an arrow. She aimed for the side of the beast where its vulnerable entrails would be located. To her dismay, it bounced off the sleek hide.
That told her all she needed to know, confirmed what she had begun to suspect: the creature’s skin was covered with impenetrable scales, like those of the mythical beasts from their folklore. Her arrows and those of Kayapo would be useless. He realized it at the same moment. His arrow had, of course, gone wide, but he had seen the effect of hers. She saw terror on his face now too.
“Run, Aikana! We cannot fight this beast!”
She waited for him to catch up to her location before she also began to sprint. In tandem, they entered the cover of the leafy canopy. Would it fly into the forest after them? Or would it linger in the sky, waiting for them to return so it could devour them? Aikana had no idea, and she did not intend to find out. As fast as their legs could carry them, she and Kayapo charged through the vines and brush. With every step, the waterfall noise lessened. That was a good sign. She slowed their pace. It would not do to stumble across any of their tribesmen in a panicked state. When they told their story at the fire that evening, it would be done with restraint and dignity. She was already pondering how she would word it, and just then decided two things: she would shower praise upon Kayapo for his bravery, and she would omit the part about making yellow water. The story would be so thrilling as to be repeated for many moons to come. Despite the recent terror, she felt a surge of happiness.
A half mile away from Aikana and Kayapo, the flying beast still hovered above the clearing. In its belly sat two humans.
“I hope you got some good shots,” the pilot said. To Aikana, he would have looked like a human fly. The sunglasses concealed much of his face, shielding his eyes from the intense Brazilian sunlight.
“Oh, yes,” Ricardo replied, still pointing the Nikon’s telephoto lens at the ground below, while scrolling through the pictures on the digital display. “These photos will place in both the International Photography Awards and National Geographic’s contests. Did you see their body paint? Fantastic!” Ricardo had to yell to be heard above the helicopter’s rotor blades.
The pilot nodded. “Yes. The male was impressive, but the female’s arrow actually hit the fuselage!”
Ricardo was grinning now. A serendipitous thunderstorm two days ago had caused them to divert from their planned flight path, allowing them to catch a glimpse of an indigenous tribesman. The visual contact had been so unexpected that Ricardo hadn’t had his camera ready and missed the shot. When they returned to the same lo
cation the next day, it had been a bust. Today, though, they got lucky. Not just one, but two representatives of a previously uncontacted Amazonian tribe had shown up. And they had been magnificent.
“Can you imagine living like that, so primitively? So completely unaware of technology and the modern world?” the pilot said, shaking his head in wonder.
“Not really. But think how uncomplicated their lives must be. There’s something to be said for that. And those two will have quite a story to tell their village!”
Decisions, Decisions
Kathy enjoyed her morning walks. The cawing crows and the trilling cardinals, the fragrance of grass mingling with the scent of a new wooden fence, the cotton ball clouds floating against a cerulean canvas – she loved it all. And she loved changing her route up every day. God knew she needed some variety in her routine-driven life.
Today she turned left at the corner of Central and Harwood instead of right, as she had done the day before. So she was unaware of the driver a block behind her who was so busy texting that his car hopped the curb. New skid marks marred the sidewalk at the exact spot she would have been if she had turned right two minutes earlier.
A lot of the other area walkers liked to wear earbuds or headphones and listen to music, or perhaps Rush Limbaugh or NPR in the morning. Not Kathy. She did her best thinking on these walks.
She could bask in the sights and sounds of Mother Nature, or she could crawl inside her own head and be alone with her thoughts. Both options were lovely in their own way.
Today was a ‘head’ day. She was less aware of her surroundings than she might have otherwise been, so she didn’t notice the man watching her from behind the steering wheel of a windowless Nissan panel van. The nondescript vehicle was parked on a section of the street next to the neighborhood exercise trail. She often walked its sinewy concrete path, but not today. She turned another corner, out of sight now, so didn’t witness the man jump out, grab a young woman who was jogging on the trail, and throw her into the back of the van. She heard the screeching tires as the Nissan took off with the victim in its cargo hold.
Dead Leaves, Dark Corners Page 9
