Unknown (13 page)

I can barely make out shapes moving around beyond the blindfold. There are many. More than five but less than ten. And then the smell hits me. Stagnant urine and feces, rotting meat, mold and dust, coppery blood.

“Hey,” I croak. My throat is dry. I must have been out for awhile. My head starts to throb.

“What’s going on?” I ask.

I am greeted with grunts and the shuffling of bare feet. Giggling again. I hear the trickle of water in the distance. The waterfall. The pool. Somebody scoops water out of a container and comes closer. They ladle some to my mouth and I drink hungrily. I feel inordinately thirsty. As I strain my neck to reach out for more, I feel a thousand cuts creak and crack open. What have they done to me? My skin is littered with cuts and they sting, as if I have been cut by a tiny knife, over and over again. My head spins and I feel weak. The woman standing in front of me puts her mouth up against my ear and mumbles something I can’t understand. Her breath is fetid, so foul that I can smell the stench while she is still at my ear garbling words, her tongue lashing out at my ear.

“Who are you?” I manage. “What do you want with me, I haven’t done anything...”

Abruptly a fist slams into my gut. My head bows and the blindfold slips down. She stands before me with wild hair, knotted and long, streaks of gray wound throughout. Behind her are several more women and girls of various ages. A skinny old woman stands next to three young girls in their late teens or twenties. A young girl not quite in her teens holds a baby in her arms. They all stare at me, some with wide open eyes, some glancing away as they make eye contact. They have the look of a family, and yet, they don’t. Most are dark haired, some long, some short. They all have large foreheads and bushy eyebrows. And they are in various states of dress, some covered in patches of cloth and fur, some in sacks, some completely naked. Looking up into the face of the madwoman in front of me her eyes go wide with surprise and anger. She jumps up and down and slaps my face. Again, and again. Her tiny knuckled fists beat at my chest and I suppress a laugh, knowing that it wouldn’t take much for her to find a way to end this all.

“Stop it,” I yell. “Talk to me, we can work this...”

She won’t have any of it. By speaking, I have offended her. I can only wonder how or why these outcasts came to be. Were they here first? Or because of their deformities and handicaps were they abandoned, kicked out?

I don’t have any time to find out, as she reaches over for a large flat rock. A glaze washes over her eyes as she raises it high over her head.

“No, no, nonononono...don’t it’s okay, listen...”

Just before she brings it down on my head, wrapping me in darkness again, I catch the eyes of the tall girl in the middle. Her arms are crossed. Her hair is pulled back in a ponytail. Like a sorority girl lost in the Amazon, she seems strangely put together. Not like the others. Her face is clean, and her blue eyes among brown are a my hope for something different. Her lips move, but I can’t hear what she’s saying. It could be “it’s okay,” it could be “don’t worry.” Then again, it could be “you’re dead.”

6. ASSIGNED

//

boot..................................3.1415

9 26535 89793 23846 26433 83279

reboot.........................okAY

the time has come the walrus said to talk of

many things...

damnitdamnitdamnitdamnitdamnitdamnitdamnitda

mnitdamnit

123marcy

return

123marcy

return

123marcy

set chip to stun

daily weather disbursement:

//rain over sectors 1-2, 8

12 minutes

34 minutes over jasmine in sector 4

121 minutes over corn in sectors 3, 6, and 9

//increase temperature over sectors 3,12-15

six degrees to 98

//roll in fog over the eastern shore

//increase wave height by 3 feet

//shake fault lines by portal 3

//increase wind gusts to 15 miles sectors 134

maintain velocity in sectors 1-2, 8

daily anima regulation:

//redirect locust to island 2

//increase tide pool temperatures by five

degrees for optimum coy breeding

//increase vitamin supplement in Yorkshire

pig slop

//end

//

7. ROLAND

I emerge in an empty field of recently harvested corn. I have been teleported to another part of the compound. The archway. I didn’t see it and now I have no idea how to get back or what comes next. I sit down with a crunchy thud and suddenly I am exhausted. Tears run down my face as the enormity of my desperate life descends on me. What a waste this poor excuse for a life has been, but I have to keep going. There is nothing left for me here.

A crackling to my left startles me as a dark shape starts to form an oval in the sky. A field of lightning manifests and the blue starts to rip open like a gutted fish.

“The men. Shit.”

They were right behind me. I leap up and run to the edge of the clearing. There is a thin path into the jungle. I rush in and follow it up a hill and around a massive pile of rocks. I don’t hear any voices or gunshots for that matter. Suddenly I am in an open area and I come to a halt in front of a fire pit and six tall wooden posts.

“It was real,” I mutter.

The circle of rocks is black with ash and time. Glancing back towards the cornfield I stop to take a closer look. I hold my hand out over the pit of gray ashes and it still holds a subtle warmth. The rocks look like random broken pieces until I get up close. They are inlaid with a wide variety of fossils. Small animal skeletons are pressed into the stones, rodents of some kind, complete with teeth. Leaves I don’t recognize sit next to seashells, roots, and tiny seeds. Fish scales that are set in spines that don’t look like any fish that I’ve ever seen. As I walk around the fire pit I see bigger bones, what must be arms and legs, femurs and tibias that look elongated and wrong. Parts of what looks to be a skull. I’ve seen enough television to think this should all be familiar to me. But it isn’t. Everything looks just a little bit off.

I stop and look around the clearing. The ring of leaves on the trees above me is singed at the ends. A hesitant blue sky peeks through the overgrowth. Glancing back toward the corn fields I don’t see anyone coming, no rustling of plants, no voices yet. Maybe they aren’t coming. I examine the nearest post. It also reveals a lot of details that I didn’t notice when we were here last night. At the top of the pole is the name Jacob. But the letters aren’t quite right. More like jAK00 B. And below that are a bunch of symbols that are familiar, and yet, totally alien. Some mix of astrological signs, Japanese characters, and Egyptian hieroglyphics. There are strange Nike swooshes, birds, and wide open eyeballs. Fish swim around half circles and squiggly lines depict heat or waves.

“What is all of this?”

Suddenly the jungle comes to life and there is movement at the edge of the clearing. Several birds take flight, screeching into the sky. They do exist, the deeper I get into the jungle. Leaves and branches wrestle each other as a hot wind pushes through the foliage. I bolt out the other side of the fire circle where the path picks up again and head up the hill towards a wooden fence. Atop the hill a small structure sits as quiet and unassuming as a gingerbread house. And for a split second I’m reminded of what happened to Hansel and Gretel. Not the politically correct modern day tale, but the Grimm fairy tale that it was based on.

In the void where I just stood, poor Raymond shows his face. He stops at the edge of the ring and sniffs his tiny pink nose. He chitters at the ashes and looks around. He glances at the hill and nods his head quickly, once, and takes off towards the house.

CHAPTER NINE

Past communications

1. JACOB

(One Letter)

January 15, 2012

Dr. Stephen Jones,

Director of Admissions

Wakefield University

1289 University Drive

Columbia, MO 65201

Dear Jacob Millhouse:

Congratulations! You have been accepted to the Wakefield University Business program. We were very impressed with your 4.0 grade point average at Webster Groves High School. Your involvement in extra curricular activities also went a long way towards our accepting you. I’m sure you must have been very busy lettering in golf and cross country, not to mention being president of the choir, and having major roles in productions of Godspell, Grease, and The Music Man. Where did you find the time for the Science Club, Mathletes and WriteClub2011?

An application for student aid has been included in this packet. Please fill out the appropriate forms and return them to us as soon as possible, no later June 1, 2012. Also, please give my best wishes to your mother, Gayle. We go way back, and in fact, went to high school together. It was great to see her again, and I’m so glad that she brought your fine application to my attention.

We look forward to you attending. If there is anything I can do to help you in your decision to attend Columbia please don’t hesitate to drop me a line. Your mother also has my contact information. I’d love to see you both up here for orientation.

Sincerely,

Dr. Stephen Jones

Director of Admissions

2. MARCY

(One Letter)

Marcybear,

This is probably the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. But it’s something I have to do, that’s for sure. Your mother and I haven’t been happy for a very long time. I wanted to wait until you were older, out of high school maybe, or even college, but I can’t. I’m so very unhappy and I can’t spend another day of my life living like this.

I think that you’re old enough to hear the truth. You’ll be a woman soon enough, and I don’t want this letter to be filled with lies. I know that you always thought that I didn’t stand up to your mother but it’s nothing like that. When you were little, your mother and I had some knock down, drag out fights. She’s hit me before, and I’ve been violent with her. Unintentional on my part, since she’s hardly a physical threat, but hey...even at 5’6” and 140

pounds she’s scary as hell with a hammer in her hand. Believe me.

She and I stopped having sex years ago, and I know you don’t want to hear that, but men have need, baby. Nothing I did mattered. I tried all of the romantic things I could think of. I made her dinner, lit candles, put on music and danced with her. I tried taking care of the laundry and dishes so she could relax. Nothing worked.

You’ll always be special to me Marcy, I think you know that. I’ve been sober for seven years now. You probably don’t remember me when I drank. I did a lot of stupid things when I was drinking and for everything I did that made you uncomfortable or sad, I’m so very sorry. Sometimes you were the only good thing in my life, the only place I got unconditional love, and for that I thank you. But it was inappropriate for me to look to you for that kind of kindness and warmth and I will regret for the rest of my life the things that happened between us. It put everything out of whack but I don’t know how it could have done anything else. I hope that you have enough of a childhood left that you can still find that innocence and hope again.

I am and will always be your father. I may not be in your life for awhile but you are always in my heart. When I find a place to exist in this world, I’ll reach out to you and help you with whatever it is you need. Until then, be brave and have faith in yourself. You’re a beautiful, intelligent young woman. I know that you will be someone to reckon with when you grow up.

Love always,

Daddy

3. JIMMY

(A Series of Emails)

AOL Mail ----------------------------------------------------------Subj: Re: Re: Re: Out of town Date: 8/20/2007 10:39:34 PM EST "Michael P. Gonzalez" To: "[email protected]"

You just have a great time. I’ll keep an eye on Jen. I’ll be cruising by anyway, it’s part of my beat, so it doesn’t take much effort to take a peek in on her. Can you put $20 down on the Giants for the Superbowl? I know, I just have a hunch. Fuck the Colts, that Manning is overrated. And I don’t think Wayne will ever be the man that Harrison was. And Dallas Clark is still a beast. Be sure and check out the Cirque de Soleil at Times Square, lots of naked ladies, plus a dwarf and Satan. Good times. And if you hit the Mustang Ranch - cash, baby, cash. Ask for Kati - tell her Michael sent you. She’ll take extra nice care of you.

Later,

Michael

AOL Mail ----------------------------------------------------------Subj: Re: Out of town Date: 8/20/2007 9:23:15 PM EST "Jimmy Dugan”

To: "[email protected]"

Yes, it’s for sure now. Could you just peek in on Jen now and then? It’d make me feel a lot better. She’s been a little bummed out lately, you know, the miscarriage and all. It’s been three months, but she still gets upset. Can’t watch a commercial with a baby in it for the love of God. Any good shows in Vegas? You want me to put a bet down for ya?

Peace,

Jimmy

AOL Mail ----------------------------------------------------------Subj: Re: Out of town Date: 8/20/2007 10:39:34 PM EST "Michael P. Gonzalez" To: "[email protected]"

So you’re going to Vegas finally? SWEET!

Michael

AOL Mail ----------------------------------------------------------Subj: Out of town Date: 8/20/2007 9:23:15 PM EST "Jimmy Dugan”

To: "[email protected]"

Hey buddy I need to ask you a favor. Call me or get right back to me. I’m heading out of

town.

Jimmy

4. X

(One Letter)

January 15, 2004

Mirka Hodurova,

Editor

Hillside Magazine

421 Rockford Avenue

Ames, IA 50010

Dear Mr. Exodus,

Thank you so much for your submission “Eternal Damnation.”

While I did find it a fascinating read I don’t think it is appropriate for this publication. You might want to try a more horrorific publication such as Cemetery Dance or Weird Tales. As much as I can appreciate the love you dissect here between your two protagonists (and that’s what we focus on here at Hillside Magazine, love and hope and sunshine and daydreams) the fact that the poem represents a young, nubile virgin and some sort of horny demon really wouldn’t resonate with our readers.