Midnight's Lair (17 page)

    Dad pointed at the hotel. 'No windows on this end,' he said. 'It was planned that way. Hedges over there,' he added, pointing to the other side of the driveway. Then he pointed out the rows of thick, tall bushes on either side of the exit door. 'And these,' he said, 'are in the way of anyone who might happen to wander onto the driveway from either the front or the back. So we may seem to be out in the open, but this particular spot is pretty well sheltered. If you're going to be seen by anyone, he has to be right on top of you.'

    'What if that happens?'

    'It never has, so far.'

    'But…'

    'I've always figured, if someone saw me, I'd kill him.' Dad reached behind his back, under his hanging shirt-tail, and pulled out a revolver. 'Insurance.' He slipped the gun back into place. 'Come on, let's get going.'

    They climbed into the car. Dad started the engine, and drove with the headlights off until they rounded the first bend. There, trees along the roadside stood between them and the hotel. The headlights came on, pushing bright tunnels into the night.

    'Where are we going?'

    'Not far.'

    'Have you got a special place where…?'

    'Very special.' Dad pulled onto the dirt road at the cattle crossing. He climbed out, removed the padlock and chain from the gate, swung the gate open, and came back. He drove slowly forward. 'You know the story of Ely's Wall,' he said.

    'Sure.'

    'Well, it's a pile of horseshit. Elizabeth didn't fall down any chasm. Ely found out she'd been screwing around with their handyman, a guy by the name of Arnold Winston. So after the elevators were installed, he blocked off the natural opening and took her into the cavern. He tied her up down there. Then, he built Ely's Wall. Sealed her right up in that section of the cave, alive and well.'

    'Holy shit,' Kyle muttered.

    'Ever read
The Cask of Amontillado
?'

    'Sure,' Kyle said.

    'Well, Ely was a big fan of Mr Poe. It just tickled the hell out of him, walling up that hot-pants bitch of his.'

    The car stopped in the middle of a stand of trees. Dad killed the headlights, then pressed the button on the dashboard that released the trunk latch. 'Come on,' he said.

    They went to the trunk. Dad handed the suitcase to Kyle. He lifted the body out, swinging it over his shoulder.

    Side by side, they walked through the trees. Kyle heard the far-off hoot of an owl. The only other sounds were their footsteps crunching over the forest floor, their breathing. The trees blocked out most of the moonlight. Except for a few speckles and patches of brightness, they walked in darkness.

    Finally, Dad stopped near a cluster of rocks. He leaned forward. Amy's body dropped to the ground. Dad leaned back against a boulder, and sighed. 'Put down the suitcase and come here,' he said.

    Kyle set it down. As he approached the vague shape of his father, he saw the man swing an arm out, thumb pointing behind him as if he were hitching a ride. 'Take a look back there, but watch your step.'

    Kyle moved carefully around the side of the boulder. He saw a narrow patch of black on the dark ground. 'I don't… what's there?'

    'The chute, son, the chute.'

    Kyle shook his head.

    'What it is, it's a sinkhole. It's like a natural chimney, drops right down into the closed part of the cave. What Ely did, once he had Elizabeth sealed up down there, he tricked Arnold into coming out here, banged him one on the head, and dropped him down the chute. Ely's idea of justice. His wife wanted Arnold, now she could have him. Forever.'

    'Wow,' Kyle said. 'Fixed them, didn't he.'

    'Maybe a little better than he ever expected.'

    'What do you mean?'

    Quiet laughter came from Kyle's father. Strange laughter. It made a chill crawl up Kyle's back.

    'They didn't die. Neither one of them. That chute, it goes all the way down, but not straight down or the fall would've killed him. It's like a slide - part of the way, at least. Ely, he comes back a few days after he dropped Arnold down, and he yells into the hole just on the chance Elizabeth's close enough to hear. And she answers. They both do. They shout up to him, begging for him to let them out. So what does Ely do? He starts bringing them food and throwing it down the chute. Not much. Just enough so they don't starve. He wants them to stay alive, you see. Alive, but trapped forever down there. In the darkness. In the cold. Together.' Again, Dad let out that weird, crazy laugh.

    'He brought them real delicacies. Table scraps, at first. Bones. Raw meat, sometimes. Whenever he showed up, they'd be waiting at the bottom of the chute. He'd tease them. He'd call, "Hungry down there?" And they'd beg him for food, and he'd make them say, "Pretty-please." He really put them through a routine. I'll show you his diary. It's pretty amusing stuff.

    'Anyway, he was out driving one day and found a cat that'd been hit by a car. So he scooped it off the road and took that to them. He knew they'd eat it. They'd have to eat it, or starve. When they found out what he'd tossed down for them, they shrieked and yelled curses. Well, that really tickled Ely. So he started to bring them every kind of disgusting thing. He got hold of snakes and lizards and tossed them down the hole. He trapped rats for their supper. Sometimes, he'd throw them a loaf of bread, but he'd piss on it first. He even shot dogs and waited for them to get ripe before throwing them in.'

    'He really did all that?' Kyle asked. He felt a little sick, but at the same time he admired the lengths that Ely had gone to for his revenge.

    'Sure did,' Dad said. 'And enjoyed every minute of it. After a while, though, Elizabeth and Arnold changed their tune. They stopped saying "pretty-please." ' Dad started laughing. Kyle, unable to stop himself, joined in.

    Finally, Dad wiped his eyes and sighed. 'Anyway, it started getting a little spooky. He'd hear them laughing down there. And they'd call up, asking him to come a little closer. They'd say they had something for him.'

    'Wanted him to fall in the hole?' Kyle asked.

    'Sure.'

    'Sounds like they went nuts.'

    'Totally bonkers. But Ely kept coming around and bringing them stuff. Then one day, a pretty young gal showed up at the hotel. She'd been on the road, didn't have any money, asked for a place to stay the night. Ely'd been without his wife for a couple of months, by then, and he was feeling pretty horny. So he used his pass key on the gal's room that night, let himself in, and had at her. She tried to fight him off. He ended up strangling her. When he was done, he brought her out here and gave her a ride on the chute.'

    'And they ate her?' Kyle asked. 'That's how it started?'

    'Yep. Ely got into the habit. And when his son, your grandfather, got old enough to appreciate the situation, he got initiated and kept the practice up, and passed it onto me.'

    Kyle shook his head. 'But they must've died. Elizabeth and Arnold. I mean, that was like sixty years ago, or…'

    'I imagine they did,' Dad said. He stood up and stepped around the rock. He got on his hands and knees at the edge of the hole. 'Soup's on!' he called. 'Hello! Room service!'

    Quiet sounds floated up. Moans, giggles, voices.

    Kyle cringed. He felt as if he had spiders in his hair. The voices, barely audible, made no sense. But they sounded gleeful.

    Kyle looked at his father and shook his head.

    'I come out here a couple times a week,' Dad said. 'Bring them a little something. And I listen. I figure there's six or eight of them down there. Sometimes, I've heard babies crying.'

    Kyle crawled backwards away from the hole and couldn't hear the sounds anymore.

    Dad stood up. He brushed off his knees. 'Come on, let's give Amy a ride.'

    He picked her up, carried her to the black opening, and dropped her in. The garbage bags hissed and crackled. There were quiet bumps and thuds. Then silence. 'Suitcase, too,' Dad said. 'Keep the folk well-dressed.' Kyle dropped the suitcase into the hole and listened as it skidded down.

    Crouching, Dad cupped his hands to his mouth and called into the blackness, 'Dig in, folks! Get it while it's hot!'

    

    

    Jim's torch died. When Darcy's dwindled to glowing embers, she dropped the smoking remains of the board to the walkway. The middle of Greg's plank still burned. He held it low in front of him so the fire could climb the wood towards his hands.

    The flames wobbled and flapped like a bright flag.

    'They should give torchlight tours,' said Carol, who was walking just behind her. 'It's a lot more… interesting this way.'

    ' "May you live in interesting times," ' Helen said. 'An old Chinese curse.'

    'I think it's nice.'

    'You won't think it's so nice,' Helen told her, 'when that one goes out.'

    'Greg's won't go out,' Darcy said. 'He's bearing the magic torch.'

    'Right,' Greg said.

    She put an arm across his back. His sweatshirt was cool and damp under her hand, but she felt his warmth beneath it. She moved closer to him, walking with her hip against his hip, the side of her breast pressing his upper arm.

    She knew the others were looking at her. But she didn't care.

    
It's just Carol and Helen and Jim and Beth,
she thought. Though Helen seemed a bit stiff, possibly even prudish, Darcy didn't mind showing some affection for Greg in front of these people. They were little more than strangers, but they were special. They were her team.

    She had felt good, almost buoyant, ever since leaving the main group at the elevators. It was as if she had been set free. Kyle had been left behind. So had the man in the Peterbilt hat. And more than two dozen strangers who'd been depending on her to keep order and calm their fears and save them. The relief at being away from them all was huge.

    It was like starting home after a bad party.

    Or, she thought, more to the point, the senior dance. Very much like that. Her final year in high school, she had been class president and in charge of organizing the entire function - decorations, refreshments, entertainment. And when Mike Wakefield spiked the punch, she got plenty of heat from the adults. They'd blamed her, even though she'd had nothing to do with it. The other kids thought the dance was a great success, but Darcy hadn't been able to relax and enjoy a single moment of it, and the evening became a real ordeal after the liquor was discovered in the punch. Then she left with her date and two other couples and the pressure was gone. She went wild. She shouted and twirled around the parking lot like a mad woman. She talked her friends into driving out to the river and they all went skinny-dipping. She'd never felt so carefree, so daring. She swam under a bridge, leaving everyone behind except Steve, her date. They embraced in the warm water. Then she led him ashore and found a moonlit clearing. Though she'd gone steady with Steve for months, though she knew that she loved him, she had never allowed him to go all the way. That night, dripping from the river, she lay down on the cool grass and raised her arms towards him.

    Darcy remembered it all as she walked alongside Greg in the fluttering glow of his torch. Always before, her memories of that night had been tainted by thoughts of their break-up, the letter Steve sent during her first spring at Princeton. Now, she felt none of the usual pain. Steve was part of the past, and Greg was with her and she felt the same sense of relief and daring that had possessed her after escaping from the senior dance.

    The springy feel of wood under her shoes pulled Darcy out of her revery. She was on the dock. She stopped. 'I forgot the pick,' she said. 'Do you want to go back with me and get it?' she asked Greg. She wondered if he could hear the tremor in her voice.

    'Sure.'

    She unhooked the flashlight from her belt and turned it on. 'We'll be back in a few minutes,' she told the others.

    Greg gave his torch to Jim. Beth, Carol and Helen formed a circle around the small flame as if it were a campfire.

    Back on the concrete walkway, Darcy said, 'We walked right past it. Stupid. I was daydreaming.'

    'About getting out of here?' Greg asked.

    'Not exactly.' She played her flashlight beam over the shiny limestone wall to the right, and spotted the grotto entrance. Taking Greg's hand, she walked closer. Her mouth was dry. Her heart beat fast. Though her mind hashed a reminder of her earlier encounter with Kyle at the grotto, she wasn't bothered by it. What happened with Kyle didn't matter. Not at the moment.

    Greg, at her side, she climbed the stone stairs.

    

    

    They entered the grotto. The pale beam of the flashlight illuminated the wheelbarrow, the pickaxe leaning against its side, her blouse and bra draped over one of its handles.

    'This is where I changed,' she explained.

    'And became what?'

    She turned to Greg. Smiling, she shook her head. Then she looked down and began to hook the flashlight to her belt. As the metal clip slipped into place, Greg put his hands on her shoulders. He eased her forward, and she wrapped her arms around him and tipped back her head. He kissed her. It was a gentle, tentative kiss at first. Then his lips parted and Darcy stroked them with her tongue and their mouths joined, pressing hard and sucking. His hands roamed her back.

    
This is crazy,
she thought.
The others are waiting.

    
Let them wait.

    Her hands went under Greg's sweatshirt. His skin was damp, but warm. His tongue filled her mouth. She squirmed against him, rubbing herself on his firm body. His hands moved up and down her sides, caressing her through the thin fabric of the windbreaker. She wanted them inside, wanted them on her skin.