Wildlife- Reckoning

by Jeff Menapace

  “Hey!” Bryan yelled.

  Cooper motioned towards Bryan and Morgan, then towards the long stretch of rope above the well. “Climb on up, kids.” He then gestured towards Wayne and Stacey, towards Wayne’s gun to her head. “I hope that’s enough of an incentive for you to obey without trouble.”

  It was. But not without questioning.

  “What are we supposed to do?” Bryan asked.

  “Just what my daddy said,” Trudy replied. “Climb on up.”

  “Climb on up?” Bryan said. “I still don’t follow.”

  “Played on monkey bars when you was a kid, didn’t you?”

  Bryan gave a reluctant nod.

  “Well, this is no different. Treat that rope there as if it were a good old set of monkey bars. Jump up and climb on. Get a good hold.”

  Bryan looked at Morgan. She looked pale and sickly. He wondered whether infection had set into her wound from her time in the swamp.

  “She won’t be able to jump up,” he said, motioning towards Morgan. “Look at her.”

  “Oh, hell,” Cooper said. “We forgot this one gets preferential treatment!” He left the room. His time away was agonizing. He returned with a pair of leather work gloves and handed them to Morgan. “Put these on, darling. Will give you a much better grip. ’Course I recommend wrapping your legs around that rope there as well.”

  “Daddy!” Trudy yelled. “You can’t keep throwing hints their way!”

  Once again Cooper waved a dismissive hand at his daughter. “Relax, pumpkin; they’d be figuring it out for themselves soon enough.”

  “Still!”

  Cooper brought his attention back to Bryan. “Why don’t you hop on up first there, fella? I’ll help the young lady on up after you’re good and settled.”

  “What do you want us to do once we’re up there?”

  “Dangle, of course,” Cooper said.

  Bryan looked at the well, at the big wooden doors covering it. “You going to open those once we’re up there?”

  “Correct,” Cooper said.

  Bryan kept his gaze on the trapdoors. How deep could the well be? he wondered. It couldn’t be that deep, could it? There had been a slight upwards slant as they marched them towards the room with the well. But only slight. Did the well run far below ground, housing a deep pit of water? The source of their water out here in the beyond? If so, then would dropping into it be so bad?

  And then a second voice in his ear: And what if the well was not a well in the literal sense of the word? Could they not plummet into the shallows of the river below them, break their legs or even their backs and end up like that poor guy in the wheelchair?

  And then a third voice: Unless that’s the point? Every one of these stupid games had a grisly end. Plummeting into a well filled with deep water is harrowing, but hardly grisly. Unless…

  Unless what? Unless they would shut those trapdoors after you fell and leave you in there, floating in the darkness until you could tread water no more and succumbed? THAT would be grisly. He shuddered at the thought. Would he prefer shattered bones and a life as an invalid to a life like—?

  Life? What fucking life? You act like living through this is an option.

  Stacey’s got a plan. I’m not one hundred percent sure what it is, but she’s got something. And that something’s something, right?

  “How far down is it?” he asked, eyes still on the trapdoors. “How deep?”

  “Hell if my buzz won’t be gone before this one shuts the fuck up,” Wayne said. “You need more incentive, boy?” He tightened his hold on Stacey’s neck. Pressed the gun harder into the side of her head.

  “Okay, okay…” Bryan jumped up and grabbed hold of the rope with both hands. The rope, stretched taut from one end of the room to the other, bowed slightly with his weight. He then kicked his legs up and wrapped them around the rope, hanging there like the aforementioned boy on a set of monkey bars.

  “Well done,” Cooper said. “Make room for the lady now.”

  Hand over hand, coiled legs dragging behind, Bryan shimmied his way towards the far end of the rope.

  Cooper bent and took Morgan around the waist, pausing there for a moment. “Ready, young lady?”

  Morgan didn’t reply. Cooper didn’t care. He hoisted her up, Morgan grabbing hold of the rope with her leather gloves. She tried imitating Bryan, swinging her legs up in order to grapevine the rope as he had done, but she was unable, too weak from her wound. Cooper helped her, taking hold of her butt with both hands and shoving her lower half skyward so she could snare the rope with both feet, and then soon, both legs. Again, the rope bowed under the weight.

  “Well done, young lady.” He turned towards Wayne and Stacey. “Last, but certainly not least.”

  Wayne released his hold on Stacey and shoved her hard towards Cooper.

  “Hey!” Bryan yelled from the rope.

  “He’s right, Wayne,” Cooper said. “No need for that.”

  “Taking forever,” Wayne grumbled.

  “Dangle takes a bit of doing, is all. No need to be rude.”

  Stacey jumped up and took the rope, whipped both legs up, and wrapped them around the rope seconds after. Once again, the rope bowed, but not by much.

  All three on the rope now. All three holding on for dear life.

  “Bravo, kids,” Cooper said. “Bravo.”

  Wayne went for the trapdoors. Bent and grunted as he took the handle of the first door and pulled it open, letting it fall with a heavy bang. Bryan peered down into the well. He saw only blackness for the moment.

  Wayne bent and did the second door. A grunt, a pull, and then letting it fall open with a bang. More light crept into the well below. Still, Bryan could see very little.

  It is deep. Very deep. A true well. His initial fear was proving likely. They meant for one of them to drop and ultimately drown. To shut the doors on them after, no doubt cheering and celebrating, to come back periodically and open the doors like checking on a damn turkey in the oven to see whether it was done, see whether they could collect on their bets and determine a winner based on how long the turkey had taken to cook.

  Drown. The word ripped into his gut and tickled his nerve endings with a terror that threatened to weaken his strength, his hold on the rope. And that’s what they want. They’re counting on such a prospect. Well, fuck ’em. I’m not letting go. He summoned strength he never thought capable, kicking his fear square in the balls like some schoolyard bully that had taunted him for a lifetime.

  And then a second, terrifying thought hit him with equal impact: Can Stacey summon that same willpower? Can Morgan? Morgan had the gloves, but she was also injured. Her blood loss might cause her to pass out and involuntarily relinquish her hold on the rope, gloves or no gloves.

  He felt confident with Stacey. In his private moments, he had admitted that she was stronger than him. Had a willpower that saw her kicking heroin in the nuts like that same schoolyard bully. But hadn’t she initially succumbed to the bully? Yes. But don’t we all initially succumb to the bully? It’s how we fight back in the end that defines our will. And Stacey was indeed a fighter. And this was not, was not the end. No fucking way. He wouldn’t let it. He would shimmy across the rope and hold on to both women with the forever grip of a vise if he had to. Let them keep drinking and pass out and—

  Yes! Yes, that was just it, by God! They were already drunk. Would undoubtedly keep drinking. All they had to do was hold on until the booze claimed their consciousness and then swing themselves to safety. The little girl would likely still be awake, but they could handle a little girl.

  And Travis? He wasn’t imbibing as heavily. How would they handle Travis if they swung to safety?

  Stacey. Travis was Stacey’s project. She was clearly in his head. Could her mouth not get them out of this too? Long odds, but when you had no odds staring you in the face, long odds seemed like the surest bet in the world. All they had to do was hold on and wait. Just hold on.

  And the
n Wayne went to one end of the room, hit a switch, and the well came to life with both light and the congregation of alligators therein.

  Chapter 42

  Bryan’s fear of drowning was now comforting compared to what lay below.

  Morgan and Stacey screeched louder than Darla could on her best day.

  The family grinned and howled along like dogs trying to match a siren’s wail.

  The alligators, roughly five in all, stretched their immense jaws skyward, the bang of the trapdoors opening coupled with the blast of light in the pit serving as their dinner bell.

  “OH GOD! OH GOD!” Morgan screamed.

  “Now, now…” Cooper said. “Relax, young lady. You get all worked up like that and you’ll lose your grip, won’t you?”

  The family took their seats before the show, swigging from their bottles, Darla dancing circles around the pit.

  “Darla, baby,” Trudy said as cavalier as a mother to her child on the playground, “you be careful now.”

  All three hugged the rope with desperate strength, the rope shaking from their sudden movements to obtain a stronger hold, this only causing them to grip harder, the rope to shake more, for Stacey and Morgan to scream louder, for the family to start howling again.

  Bryan gripped the rope with paralyzing fear, eyes closed, like a man with crippling acrophobia inexplicably finding himself perched atop a ledge.

  Stacey screamed again, only her scream was different this time, a different pitch, glass-shatteringly high.

  Bryan opened his eyes and found that her legs had lost their hold on the rope. She now dangled from only her hands.

  “STACEY!” he cried out. “Jesus Christ, pull yourself back up!!!”

  She tried to no avail, fear sapping her strength by the second. The rope bounced harder after each attempt, causing Morgan to scream that much louder, causing Stacey to fail that much more.

  “Morgan, shut up!” Bryan yelled. “Stacey, honey, you can do it! Come on!”

  Stacey continued to try. Continued to fail. “I can’t! I—” She tried again, failed again, rope bouncing. “I can’t!”

  “Yes, you can! You’re the strongest person I know! PLEASE, BABY, YOU CAN DO THIS!”

  She tried again and failed, each attempt sapping her strength with the same power of her fear. “I’m losing my grip! I’m losing my grip!”

  “Wrap your forearm around the rope! Don’t rely on your hand strength! Wrap your forearm around the rope!!!”

  Stacey did. This time she was successful.

  “Quick thinking, son,” Cooper said to Bryan. “She looks a bit more stable now, but for how long?”

  “Fuck you!”

  Stacey looked at Bryan with desperate eyes. “I’m not going to be able to do this much longer.”

  “Yes, you are. Honey, listen to me; yes, you are. Just hang there until your strength returns. Then you can get your legs back up, okay? Okay?”

  “Okay…”

  “Whatever you do, don’t look—”

  Stacey looked down. The flock of jaws, perhaps sensing something big was ready to drop, stretched wider than ever, endless rows of teeth framing pink gullets as deep as the pit.

  Stacey screamed again, her hand losing its grip. She now dangled by just her forearm.

  “STACEY!!!” Bryan cried. “Stacey, grab back on! For the love of God, grab the fuck back on!!!”

  She reached up and took hold of the rope again.

  “Keep switching forearms, you hear me?!” Bryan said. “Keep switching forearms to preserve your strength. And DO NOT LOOK DOWN ANYMORE!”

  Stacey nodded at him. She had the face of a frightened child. “Bryan…” she said. Her voice was strangely and suddenly composed. “I’m not going to be able to hold on much longer,” she said again.

  “Yes, you are! You hear me?! Yes, you are!”

  She started to cry.

  “Who picked Stacey to be the one to drop?” Wayne asked.

  “ME!” Darla exclaimed. She began dancing around the pit again. “Me! Me! Me!”

  Cooper looked at Wayne and Trudy. “I’ll be damned if she isn’t going to win this thing again.” He then looked at Travis. “Enjoying yourself, son?”

  Travis only nodded.

  Cooper looked at Wayne and Trudy again and threw a thumb Travis’s way. “Tough to please, this one.”

  “What would make it more fun for you, Travis?” Trudy asked.

  He shrugged.

  “Oh, to hell with him,” Wayne said. “He’s not enjoying this; he’s not enjoying nothing.”

  Travis glared at Wayne. Wayne kicked back his chair and stood. “Something on your mind, boy?”

  “Oh knock it off, the both of you,” Cooper said. “Hell, the girl’s gonna drop at any moment, and you two will miss it!”

  Wayne slowly took his seat again, swigging hard from his bottle.

  “What happens when one of us drops?” Bryan suddenly asked them with frantic urgency. “What happens after one of us drops?”

  The family exchanged funny looks. “Harlon’s babies down there get their dinner,” Cooper said. “Would have thought that was obvious, son.”

  “No—I mean, is the game over then? Do you shut those damn doors? Are the remaining two allowed back down?”

  “Of course,” Cooper replied.

  A sudden look of dire realization appeared on Stacey’s face. “Bryan…”

  Bryan looked at her. “Honey, look at me. Look at me. Don’t look anywhere else but at me, okay? We’re the only two people here. Just look at me and nowhere else, okay?”

  “Bryan, no.”

  “I was wrong when I said that as long as we’re on this Earth we would always be together. We’re going to be together long after that; I promise you—”

  “Bryan, NO!”

  “—wherever I’m going, I’ll be waiting for you.”

  “NO!”

  He started to cry, smiled adoringly at her, and, through his tears, added with a painful try at a chuckle: “And I won’t want you to pinch my nipple there either. I love you.”

  Bryan let go.

  Chapter 43

  Back in the den. Two chairs now, ropes once again binding their wrists behind the back. Morgan was unconscious. Her body, already weakened from blood loss, simply could not process the harrowing sight of Bryan dropping into the pit.

  And of course the doors did not shut immediately after, no. They remained open for a moment, enough for the family to rush to the pit’s edge, to gaze eagerly down like tourists at a zoo exhibit, for Trudy to steady and aim the camera…and for Stacey and Morgan to watch Bryan being torn apart by five alligators at once, each taking something and ripping their catch in the opposite direction, gulping it down greedily. Like the proverbial car crash you cannot look away from, so too did Stacey and Morgan watch before ultimately looking away. Shutting their eyes tight, wishing the nightmare to end, to wake in their beds back home, far, far from here.

  Stacey sat quietly, conscious. She was not a complete victim to shock, but she was heavily wounded by it. The urge to detach had never been so strong. The desire to shut down and allow shock to claim her wholly so that she was no more than a shell, the goings-on inside her working robotically, without conscious thought. How nice that would be. To detach and leave her body. Let them claim what remained. Be with Bryan in that afterworld he’d mentioned before he’d let go, saving her life.

  But then just enough of those goings-on inside managed to process something: Would that not mean that Bryan’s sacrifice had been in vain, for her to give up so readily? If she did not want to live any longer for herself, could she not do it for him?

  Yes. And before long, those wistful thoughts of complete automation of her shell began to fade, became replaced by a growing urge for vengeance. To not just survive, but to punish this sick family who’d done this to her and her friends. Vengeance, she would come to know, was capable of motivation that much stronger than the will to live. Just ask Travis.

 
Travis. Yes. She was not done with Travis. Despite her predicament in the pit, the dispute between him and Wayne had not gone unnoticed. He was chasing the dragon, after all. And up until now, in spite of the horror they’d endured, he had still yet to catch it.

  (Because no one ever can.)

  But I won’t let him think that. I will let him think it is very catchable—right in front of his nose. He’s a kid in a man’s body. A kid with a tortured mind. But above all: a kid. You can outwit a kid. Will outwit a kid.

  Stacey, head down the entire time, now lifted it and searched the den for Travis. The family was back on the porch, imbibing and reminiscing about the events of The Dangle just as they’d done the events that had preceded it. Was Travis with them? She couldn’t see him from where she sat, only the back of Cooper in the doorway of the porch, re-enacting the recent ordeal with big sweeping gestures, laughter following, Darla singing.

  “You’re awake.”

  Travis’s voice behind her. He’d been in the kitchen and soon emerged eating something.

  “Yes,” she said.

  “Thought you was asleep like this one here.” He pointed to Morgan.

  “She’s in shock,” Stacey said.

  “Not you, though,” Travis said.

  “No.”

  “Strong girl.”

  “I wasn’t always,” she said.

  Travis swallowed the last bite of whatever he’d been eating and stood before her, a mildly curious expression on his face. “That right?”

  “I was a junkie.”

  “Drugs?”

  “Heroin. I had a pretty big problem.”

  “Don’t seem like the type.”

  “Do you know the type?”

  Travis conceded, with a small shake of the head: “I suppose I don’t. You just don’t seem like the kind of girl who would get involved with something like that. Do you still use it?”

  “If I did, I’d be more than a little sick right now,” she replied. “Withdrawal.”

  “I see.”

  “What I wouldn’t give for some right now, though,” she said.