by Hunter Shea
“Lucille,” I whispered. My shaky fingers touched her cheek, her chin, her nose. “Baby, wake up. Can you hear me? It’s Nat. Please open your eyes. I know it might be hard to recognize me. A lot of hard years have come and gone since I last held you like this. Me, I look like an old horse put out to pasture. But you’re just as beautiful as the day we met. Lucille.”
I leaned over her face and softly blew the hair from her forehead. I moved down to her neck, just the way I used to wake her up in the morning. She’d said it tickled, and she’d rather wake up to a tickle than a holler or a raggedy cock crowing.
“Come on, Lucille. Come back to me.”
Something shifted in the darkness up ahead. It could have been rocks still falling after the quake.
It could have been anything.
I kept blowing on her neck and rubbing her wrists, anything to get her blood flowing. There was a narrow crack in the wall opposite us. I wedged the torch handle into it. The flame was still burning strong, which was a good thing. Aside from giving the only light, it meant there was ample air in here, at least for now.
Lucille’s lips were dry and chapped. I pressed my lips against them. They were cold, but not with the chill of death.
As I pulled away, her eyes flashed open. The hazel of her eyes burned with an intensity I’d only seen when she was angry or frightened.
“Where am I?” she said, looking about, trying to make sense of her surroundings.
“You’re with me, Lucille. Just stay calm.”
My heart trip-hammered at seeing those eyes and hearing her voice. When she tried to lift her head I said, “Take it slow. You took a pretty good shot to the head.”
She settled back into my lap and seemed to see me for the first time. “I know you,” she said.
“I don’t look the same.”
Her hand brushed my stubbled cheek. “Nat,” she said.
“Yes, it’s me.”
“I’ve missed you.”
“Not any more than I’ve missed you.”
“What is this place?”
“We’re in a mining tunnel, I think. When you feel up to it, we’ll start moving again, try to find our way out.”
“How did I get here? I can’t remember anything.”
“I don’t know, honey. Maybe you’ll recall when your head clears up.”
It was as if there weren’t a thirty-year gap since the last time we’d seen one another. I didn’t want to say anything that would be too big of a shock to her system.
She rolled to her side and pushed herself into a sitting position. She winced and her fingers flew to her head.
“Does it hurt?”
“Some.”
“I wish I had some water or something to give you, but I’ve kinda been playing things by ear ever since I got here.”
Her eyes went to the rifle. “There’s trouble.”
“Of a kind, yes. It’s nothing I can’t handle, now that I have you back.”
“Back?”
“Never mind. God, you’re as beautiful as ever.”
“I must look a mess.” She gave a disappointed glance at her clothes.
I tucked my hand under her chin and lifted so I could look into her eyes. “I’ve never seen anyone more beautiful.”
She smiled and I felt the blue birds fluttering in my stomach. She could always do that to me with such ease, make me feel like a kid gawking at the first pretty woman who caught my fancy.
Something shuffled in the distance. I picked up the rifle, aiming it over her shoulder. “Teta, is that you?”
My voice raced down the tunnel with a low, deep echo. All was quiet again.
“Who’s Teta?”
“A good friend. We’ll find him, or he’ll find us. You think you can walk?”
Even though the tunnel was getting smaller, she was slight enough to be able to walk without bending over. I took her hand in mine and tried to help her to her feet. A snap of electricity threw out blue sparks at her touch and she snatched her hand back.
“Well, that shows we still got it.”
Her eyes were wide as saucers. She seemed to shrink into herself and her lips curled back
“I’m so sorry,” she said.
“There’s nothing to apologize for. It only hurt for a second.”
“Not that. For everything. For now.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“He – forced me to do it.”
That got my dander up. “He? Who is he and what did he force you to do?” I felt the slow boil of red-hot rage start to simmer. She must have been talking about the man who’d beaten her up before I found her.
“I loved you, Nat. I never wanted to hurt you.” Her hand trembled as she reached out to touch me. She pulled it back when I stepped closer.
I couldn’t bring myself to say she never hurt me, because her death damaged me in more ways than I could count. But it hadn’t been intentional. I’d never stopped loving her. I never blamed her for dying.
Tears rolled down her cheeks. “It hurts so much to see you. He wanted me to hurt. He wants everyone to hurt.”
“Lucille, I don’t know what you’re talking about. You have to help me out here.”
She shook all over. Her head dropped and she looked away from me. “You have to find Selma. I won’t help him anymore.”
“How do you know about Selma? You have to tell me who you’re so afraid of. I won’t let anything happen to you again.”
Now she looked up, and her eyes swam with tears. “I love you, Nat. He brought me back to hurt you, to hurt us.”
“Lucille, I’ve never loved anyone but you.”
The rustling in the distance started up again. I squinted to see if I could make out anything, but it was darker than night past the flickering circle of light.
“Save Selma, Nat. Only you can. You went where no other man has gone and found me. Keep going. Find her.”
“Lucille, you’re starting to scare me. Just let me hold you and we can talk this through. I’m worried that bump on your head has you all confused.”
There was a sharp crack, as if part of the tunnel wall had broken free.
“Who’s there? Teta? Matthias? Angus? Say something before I start shooting.”
Lucille’s lips quivered, and this time she did touch me. Her hand wrapped around mine. “You were always there to protect me.”
Something enormous and black and vile smelling catapulted from the darkness. Lucille gasped, but her face showed a grim acceptance that made my heart sink. What looked like a hand, one big enough to curl around her from her waist to her neck, pulled her into its grasp.
“Lucille!”
I aimed at the hand, but any shot I took would hit her as well.
She looked at me one last time. Her mouth moved but no sound came out. I couldn’t make out what she was trying to say.
And then the hand pulled her into the darkness faster than any bullet could follow.
She disappeared in utter silence. One second she was there, the next she was gone. I shouted until my throat was raw; until flecks of coppery blood coated my tongue. I fired a shot into the dark. The report was deafening.
It was a blessing I didn’t have to hear my own cries.
Chapter Forty-Nine
I plunged into the tunnel, going as fast as I could without falling or cracking my skull. I had to keep wiping my eyes with the back of my hand to clear the tears that blurred my vision. I called out for Lucille. I tensed, waiting for the black hand to reach out for me next. The tunnel narrowed, and I had to get on my hands and knees to proceed. The uneven rock floor stabbed my knees and palms. I barely registered the pain, didn’t even realize how bad it was until I went to lift the torch a little higher and it slipped from my hand because of all the blood. “Lucille!”
She’d kept talking about he and how he made her do it and he brought her back. Could a Djinn be a he? I knew she wasn’t one of them. Or was it the higher being that also controlled the Djinn? There was nothing higher about giving Lucille back to me, only to take her away. With my fury came a cold, black numbness that surrounded me. I had killed men in my time, but never did I desire to see someone die at my feet like I did now. I had always killed out of self-preservation or for a cause greater than myself.
Now, I just wanted revenge.
Save Selma.
How did she know about Selma? If she was aware that Selma was held captive, did she also know how I had felt about her? Could she sense the betrayal that twisted my heart?
* * *
When I was thirteen, I was with my father riding cattle up to Kansas City. We’d taken a late afternoon break so my father could get some supper together. It was one of the rare times he told me I didn’t have to help him, so I was free to do what I wanted. Not that there was much to do on an open trail, surrounded by farting cattle and tired, dirty cowboys.
We’d had a couple of dogs that followed along with us, two mixed breeds that actually helped keep the herd in line. It was like they’d been cowboys themselves, now trapped in mangy dogs’ bodies. I was playing with one of the dogs. We didn’t give them names. We wrestled over a stick, the dog baring its teeth and snarling while I tried to pull the stick from its mouth. Its tail wagged as it whipped its neck from side to side, trying to break my grip.
I realized I’d need two hands if I was going to win the tug-of-war. The moment I put my other hand on the stick, the dog’s tail stopped wagging. I guess it didn’t like the thought of losing. Its jaw released the stick and it snapped at me. One of its canines caught the soft spot between my thumb and index finger and tore a ragged hole through it. I yanked my hand back, and my blood splashed into my eyes, stinging me.
My next recollection was my father pulling me off the dog. When I looked down, it was dead. I had beaten it to death with the same stick we’d been having fun with just a minute earlier.
As my father cleaned the wound, he said, “Son, you’re not going to be long for this world if you don’t learn to control your temper. Dogs bite. You can’t get mad at nature for doing what it was made to do. And you can’t go around killing everything that hurts you.”
* * *
I kept on. When my back scraped against the top of the tunnel, I bit down on the pain. I put it out of my mind that I could be wedged down here, trapped, and die a slow, maddening death.
My father died when he was forty-one. He was a kind man who never hurt a soul. I’d outlived him by ten years and had more notches in my belt than I cared to consider.
“You were wrong, Pa,” I huffed, pulling myself forward with my arms, having to toss the torch ahead of me. “Sometimes nature has to be put down.”
My rifle raked across the ground and I grunted with every thrust forward. My lungs were on fire. It was an effort to draw a full breath.
Save Selma.
Had I been too late, too slow to save Selma?
He would have to answer for that.
The tunnel walls had boxed me in. I could barely move forward, and there was no chance of turning around. Trapped like one of Angus’s angry spirits.
My fingers jittered as I groped to find something to latch on to, to keep moving, even if it was just an inch.
The flames from the torch dwindled. It was either burning out or there simply wasn’t enough air to keep it lit. I watched it dim from orange, to blue, to the soft glow of dying embers. It was darker than dark, a total nothingness that made me feel as if I’d left my body. If it weren’t for the crushing grip of the tunnel, I would have felt weightless.
I was so damn tired. I couldn’t breathe. Darkness curled at the edges of my mind.
Keep moving, damn you!
Save Selma!
I’d always done whatever Lucille had asked.
My fingertips scoured the edge of – what? It was probably a raised part of the rock surface. I gripped it as hard as I could and pulled. My body inched ahead, slowly, painfully.
I wasn’t afraid to die.
I just didn’t want to disappoint Lucille. And I didn’t want to fail Selma. My chin ripped open against a serrated stone.
I kept pulling.
I let go of the rock and reached ahead. There was nothing. The tunnel floor simply fell away. A cold breeze made my hand tingle.
The end of the line. I laid my head down, conscious of every labored breath, wondering how many more I still had in me.
“I’m sorry, Selma,” I rasped.
I’m sorry, Lucille. Sorry that I can’t do what you asked. Sorry that you’ve been damned to a place like this just because you made one wrong, fatal decision.
If this was hell, it tore me up inside to think that this is where she ended up, just like the preacher had warned me when we made plans for her burial. Well, at least I wouldn’t have to travel far to be with her again.
It was time to let go, and I was fine with it.
I tried to cough but my ribs were too constricted. White spots swirled before my eyes.
I laid my head down and waited for the inevitable.
The tunnel began to vibrate.
The floor abruptly gave way. I instinctively clutched my rifle. And then I was falling.
Spinning end over end into nothing.
Chapter Fifty
I landed on my back on something that gave way with a tremendous crack. A sandstorm of dust clogged my nose and mouth, choking me.
I mustn’t have fallen far or else I wouldn’t have been alive to cough out half my lungs. I was just grateful that I could still draw a breath, and a good one at that, even if it was laced with something that smelled old and musty and plain terrible.
Live to fight another day.
My ribs were sore, both from the fall and racking coughs. I spit the chalky crap from my mouth. If I dragged my tongue over my teeth, I could feel a cake-like residue left on them.
There was no light, and no way for me to tell where I was. When I tried to move, whatever I was laying on shifted and pitched me forward at an angle. I didn’t want to fall again, so I lay still, gathering myself and waiting for the dust to settle.
Matches! Carefully, I felt around my pockets. My empty tobacco pouch was still there, but the matches I kept next to it were gone. They must have dropped out when I fell.
Blood rushed to my head and I realized I was hanging upside down. I slowly raised myself and got into a position where the rush of my pulse wasn’t deafening. My ears were still ringing from firing my rifle in such tight quarters.
“This place just gets better and better.”
My voice rebounded all around me. Wherever I had fallen, it must have been big. Something scuffled. It was impossible to know from which direction.
“Jefe? Nat?”
A pinprick of light appeared to my left. It looked low and far away. “Teta?” I said. My throat burned.
“Where are you?” he answered.
“I’ll be damned if I know. Just try and follow my voice.” I saw him holding a blazing torch high above his head. “I’m up here,” I croaked.
Matthias and Angus were right behind him. They also had torches. Matthias called out, “Don’t move! Hold steady until we can figure this out.”
Not moving sounded like a fine plan to me. Every bone in my body hummed with agony.
“I’ll come up to you,” Teta said. He handed the rifle to Matthias and clenched the torch between his teeth.
I joked, “It’s a good thing your sombrero isn’t here to see this. You’d burn it up with that torch.”
“It’s still here and it’s still lucky,” he said, scrabbling up to me.
“Lucky?”
“We’re still alive,
aren’t we?”
After being with Lucille, I wasn’t sure anymore. Maybe we had all died back there in the shaft, or maybe the wild men had overtaken us. Maybe this was a hell we’d never imagined. When Teta climbed next to me, everything began to slide. He grabbed hold of my shirt collar as we slipped a few feet. When it stopped, he took the torch from his teeth and held it out.
“Are you hurt?” he asked.
“Yes, but not so much as I can’t move. I’ll be all right as soon as I get off this pile of rocks and get my boots on the ground.”
He shook his head, moving the torch around. I followed its path and immediately wished he’d kept things dark.
We were sitting atop a heap of bones that had to be at least forty feet high. From what I could see, it was a grisly collection of both animal and human bones. My hand rested on a human skull with a crushed eye socket. I jerked it back.
“We’re going to have to slide down,” he said. “I’ll hold you so we go down together.”
“I’ll jump clear off just to get away from here.”
Thinking that the dust I’d inhaled was actually ground bone powder made my stomach roll. My skin itched and it felt like tiny fingers were dancing up my spine. I wanted off. Now. I maneuvered myself so my feet pointed toward the ground. Teta and I clasped hands.
We only needed to shift our body weight to start the plunge. Sharp bits of ribs and femurs nicked us as we slid. The descent was mercifully quick and my feet hit hard. We both stumbled but managed to stay upright, thanks to Angus’s assistance. He placed a hand on our chests and bore the brunt of our fall.
“Thank you, Angus, again,” I said, clapping him on the shoulder. “I’m sorry about what happened back there.”
He nodded and went back to his chest.
“Where’s Lucille?” Teta asked, dusting bone off his shirt and pants.
“She wasn’t mine to keep. Something took her from me. But I think she knew that was going to happen. She kept saying he made her do it. She also said to save Selma.” I turned to Matthias. “Are we dead?”
“No. But whatever is in control here wants us to wish we were dead. It wants us so frightened we’d rather pass away than face another moment. Of that, I can assure you.”
