13 Echoes
13 Stories to Chill Your Blood and Tighten Your Flesh
T. A. Bradley
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locals or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Published
by Barren Hill Publishing at Smashwords
Copyright 2011 by Thomas A. Bradley
Cover Design by: R. Barrett: The Cover Counts
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. For information address Barren Hill Publishing, 216 Barren Hill Road, Conshohocken, PA 19428
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
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For John and Ruth – Gone, but never forgotten.
Also Available by T. A. Bradley
THE BOY BENEATH THE BRIDGE
1
Ruth Dougherty sat at the kitchen table sipping her coffee. Across from her, her ten year old, Tommy, was trying desperately to convince her to let him walk to school with his friends. Tommy was Ruth's only child; she had had him late in life and there had been complications. He progressed much more slowly than other kids his age. He seemed disconnected from himself at times. There had been many tests and many more discussions with experts and specialists. Ruth's first fear was that Tommy was autistic, but in the end, the doctors concluded that he suffered from trisomy of the twenty-third chromosome – Down's syndrome - not autism.
From the first, Ruth had been protective – over protective some would say. But this was natural. Ruth had already lost a child years before. It had been a crushing blow. She and Jack couldn't even bear the thoughts of standing beside a tiny casket at the funeral, so they had the child cremated. Together, Jack and Ruth had spread his ashes over Waterman's Pond. They hoped that he would find peace and tranquility in the still waters.
In her efforts to protect Tommy, she limited his time with his friends, the amount of television he could watch, how much time he could spend outside and what toys he could have. She made a point to lay out his clothes each day and reinforce the idea that he was to come home just as clean as he left in the morning.
Ruth was not a bad mother; she was not a tyrant. She was scared. Her husband, Jack, was a police officer, and although he never made it a habit of talking shop at home, he stressed the importance of safety, and how dangerous it could be out there. Of course, he would always qualify this by noting that Banderman Falls enjoyed a significantly lower crime rate than its neighbor, Philadelphia.
"Please, mom," begged Tommy, "I won't be walking alone; Danny and Mark are gonna meet me on the corner and we're all going together. Please...please?"
"I don't know, Tommy." Ruth took another sip of coffee and gently set the cup back on the table. "A lot can happen out there. You know what your father says, 'it's better to be safe, than...well, it's just better to be safe.'"
Ruth smiled. This had always been the standing joke with Jack. There was nothing beyond safety; there were no "...than sorry-s" in the Dougherty household. Low crime rate or not, accidents could happen and Jack and Ruth were extra vigilant where Tommy's safety was concerned.
"Ah, c'mon, mom. Please, please, pretty please? I promise I'll stay with the guys; I promise. Pretty please?"
Ruth was reluctant. But she also realized that Tommy was getting older now and that he'd eventually have to start making it out there whether or not she liked it. Still, it was tough to let go, even a little – especially the first time.
"Ok," she said, sighing deeply. "I suppose it will be ok. But you be careful. Don't you dare wander away from your cousin Danny. He'll look after you. Do you hear me? Don't you let Danny out of your sight. Now get upstairs and finish getting dressed. I put you clothes-"
"I know, mommm," he said, drawing the word mom out and feeling insulted by the reminder. "At the bottom of my bed; I see 'em ev'ry day." Tommy jumped up from the table. He could not control his excitement at being able to be one of the guys today. He tore out of the kitchen, through the dining room and skidded across the living room floor to the bottom of the steps. Sliding on the hardwood floors in his socks was one of his favorite things.
He was reaching for the banister when he heard his mother calling from the kitchen. "Don't you dare run up those steps, young man. One at a time. You hear me in there?"
"Yes mommm," he replied, as he trudged up the steps. He dressed quickly; he had a bit of trouble with the buttons on his white shirt, but eventually got it right. The next hurdle would be his sneaker laces. He had wanted the kind of sneakers that had the Velcro, but Ruth had decided that tying laces would be good for him. It took him nearly ten minutes to get both sneakers tied, but he did it. It was going to be a great day.
2
Outside, the sun was rising above the trees, sending thin slivers of light through the gently fluttering leaves. Here and there, they struck the ground like tiny spotlights illuminating a stage just before the appearance of the actors. Spring was here and winter was gone without a trace. Crocuses were pushing their way through the fallen leaves of autumn and robins were busily seeking worms and nesting material.
Across the neighborhood, screen doors were banging shut as sons and daughters hurried out to bus stops. Husbands were waving their good-byes, cars were slowly and cautiously backing out of driveways, dogs were barking, and on Elm Street, the trash truck was rumbling its way along collecting the discarded legacies of the previous week. Banderman Falls had awakened again.
Danny Mowery met Mark Twilling on the corner of Fountain and Oak streets. Danny and Mark were both fourteen, Mark being the youngest by three weeks. Mark's father was the local Funeral Director (nobody called them undertakers anymore, at least not publicly...it was politically incorrect), and every so often, Mark would snatch something really cool from the parlor or embalming room to show the guys. Of course, if he ever got caught, fire and brimstone would seem like a summer vacation compared to what his father would do to him.
"Hey Danny!" Mark waved frantically as soon as he caught sight of him. "Hurry up. I got somthin' really really cool. You gotta see this." He started laughing, uncontrollably. "Hurry up, you...you-" he had trouble finishing the sentence he was laughing so hard. "-you gotta see this...before it sees you."
He was literally doubled over in hysterics now. His face was fully flushed and tears rolled down his cheeks. He was clutching his stomach and his knees were nearly on the ground.
"Alright, hold your damned horses; I'm coming." Danny continued walking toward him at an even pace. It was rare that Mark had anything worth running for. True, he had come up with some pretty odd and interesting things over the years, but nothing worth breaking a sweat for.
"Ok, dickwad; what is it today? Another hair piece, a set of false teeth, some old lady's coochie pad...what?"
"No, man. This is the best. I mean...I mean-" Mark was still having a hard time getting the laughter under control. "-I mean the very best."
"Yeah, it's the best," echoed Danny, "so show it to me already, you half-wit."
Mark pulled the backpack off his shoulder and dropped it to the sidewalk. Carefully unzipping the front pouch he reached in and felt around. A huge grin broke out across his face as he found what he was looking for. He pulled his hand out slowly, the fist closed tightly around the prized object.
"Are you ready for this, dude? It's primo." He held his arm out in front of Danny, the fist closed tightly. He kept it there for a few moments, a kind of tease. At last, he opened his fingers, one-by-one, displaying the trophy.
Danny stared at it for the longest time before saying anything. You could almost see the wheels turning. Mark knew what Danny was thinking; he was thinking about the best use he could make of it.
"That's un-fuckin-real. Le'me hold it."
Mark carefully placed the object into Danny's open palm. Danny picked it up with the thumb and forefinger of his free hand and held it up. The sunlight reflected off its smooth, rounded surface as he turned it in the air, projecting miniature rainbows on his shirt front.
"An eyeball. A glass fuckin' eyeball," exclaimed Danny. "Oh, man; we gotta put this to good fuckin' use."
Mark was finally settling down. He stood in front of Danny, wiping the last few tears off his face, and waiting for Danny's decree on how the eye was to be used.
Danny remained silent, considering the options, and potential female targets. Alicia Moyerson was out, not much freaked her out – the tomboy of the class. Mary D'Grassie was a possibility, but Marji Stapleton or Cathy Richards would probably be better choices. And choosing the victim was not his only concern. The method of the attack was just as critical. Just putting it on their desks or in their purses would be lame. It had to be delivered in a very devious and shocking way.
Danny slid the eye into the breast pocket of his shirt and buttoned the suit jacket over it. As a rule, Danny hated wearing a suit everyday, but in Catholic School, it was the dress code. Today it worked for him; it served a purpose – concealment. He straightened his tie, pushing the knot up a little tighter at his throat.
"Ok then. I'll think about it. We got time," he said, grinning. Then his expression turned serious.
"Hey, we gotta get goin'. I promised my Aunt Ruth that I'd walk Tommy to school today. It's a pain, but he's ok."
"Ok for a retard," chuckled Mark.
Danny reached out and gave Mark a shove backwards. "Knock it off. He's my cousin. We're blood." The word blood came out in a deep bass tone. Then Danny broke out laughing.
Both boys liked Tommy. They felt sorry for him. He really tried to fit in, and it made both Danny and Mark angry when the other kids picked on him. It was one of those, "it's ok for me to do it, but if you do, I'll kick your ass" relationships. And no matter how much Danny, Mark or the other boys in their group, Joey Robertson and Jimmy Maloney, teased Tommy, they never did it in a way that hurt his feelings.
"C'mon. Let's go. If we're not on the corner to meet Tommy on time, my Aunt Ruth'll kill me."
Mark picked up his backpack and slung it over his right shoulder. The two boys set off down the street. The meeting place was only another block over, so they still had enough time to insult each other as they walked leisurely along.
3
Ruth Dougherty walked Tommy all the way down the front walk to the curb. Clutching tightly to his hand, she made him look up the street, down the street and then back up the street again.
"Is it safe to cross?" she asked.
Tommy took another quick glance in both directions, which made his mother very happy.
"Yup. Sure is," he said.
They stepped off the curb together and trotted across the street. Ruth was still in her pajamas and slippers, a thick white robe cinched in the middle completed her morning ensemble.
She bent down and gave Tommy a kiss on the cheek, followed by what was euphemistically called a bear-hug.
"Now you walk straight on down to the corner. No stopping, no in the street. Do you hear me, young man?"
Tommy nodded that he did.
"Not good enough," she snapped. "I want to hear you say it."
Tommy let out a long sigh. "Ok, mommm. I'll walk...right down the street; I won't...stop till I get...to the corner and I won't...go into the street." It took Tommy some time to get long sentences out. His brain had a hard time catching up to his thoughts and translating them into intelligible speech – a consequence of the Down's syndrome. He also had the typical facial features usually associated with that disease, which made every day a challenge for him where the other kids were concerned.
Ruth stood there watching him amble down the street until he rounded the bend and disappeared from view. Her first instinct was to follow after him to be sure he made it all right. But in the end, she resigned herself to giving him his first real chance at growing up a little, and went back into the house.
Tommy tottered down the street, his head bobbing from side to side. While passing the Johnson house, he spotted a kitten frolicking in the yard with a bird feather. Tommy came to a dead stop. He was easily distracted and something as enticing as a kitten was no match for his resolve to adhere to his mother's demands. The "no stopping" command his mother had given him was completely erased by the jumping kitten.
In his exuberance to get to the cat, he rushed up the steps, slipped and skinned the palm of his right hand. He paid no attention to the injury in his quest for the kitten. The spill, however, had made enough noise to frighten the kitten, which darted off under a row of rose bushes. It crouched beneath them, peering out inquisitively, but cautiously.
Tommy pulled himself to his feet and climbed the remaining three concrete steps. When he got to the top he was surprised to see the kitten had vanished. He stood there looking from side to side, completely perplexed by its absence. The kitten watched him in silence from the safety of its thorny hideout.
Eventually, Tommy gave up the hunt and turned to go. When he reached the steps he stopped. Confusion swept over him as he looked up and down the street. He had totally forgotten which way he was going. Should he go left; should he go right? He didn't know. He could feel the tears welling up in his eyes and his stomach began to contract into a tight ball.
It never occurred to him that either direction would be a good choice. If he turned the wrong way, the worst that would happen would be that he'd end up back home again. But this kind of reasoning was beyond Tommy. Tommy could only deal with the absolute. In his mind, you were either lost or not lost. Tommy was lost.
4
One half block away, Danny and Mark sat on the edge of the curb waiting for Tommy to arrive. It was getting late. If Tommy didn't show up soon, they'd all be late. And being late at a Catholic school was tantamount to committing freedom suicide. Detention would be long and painful. There was no "two hours after school, young man" at Catholic school. Punishment there ranged over weeks and manual labor was always involved.
"What time is it, now?" asked Mark.
"Three minutes later than the last time you asked me," answered Danny, sarcastically. "Quarter to eight."
"Shit!" exclaimed Mark, "we're gonna be late for sure. Where the hell is he?"
"I don't know. Whadda ya want from me? Do I look like a psychic?"
"Hmmm...Maybe. But I guess that'd be psy-chot-ic." Mark drew the word out, emphasizing the middle syllable. "C'mon. We gotta go. I'm not spending the rest of the damn summer sweepin' the parking lot for the nuns. I don't care if he is your cousin."
Danny looked at Mark and then down at the ground. Mark was right, if they didn't get going now there was no question they'd be late.
"Maybe he ain't commin'," suggested Mark. "Maybe his mom changed her mind. I bet that's it. I bet she changed her mind and drove him to school like always. And we're sittin' here just waitin' to fry ourselves."
"I dunno," said Danny. "Maybe. But what if we're wrong and he's just late? Maybe we should go look for 'im. Hell, it'll only take five or six minutes to get to his house anyway."
"Yeah, five or six minutes. Danny, you know damn well that it doesn't matter whether we're five minutes or five seconds late. With the nuns, late is late."
Danny nodded. Reluctantly, he decided that they should go.
"Ok, I guess you're right. We better get going. It sucks though. I hope Tommy's ok. I hope you're right and he's already at school. Christ, what'll we do if he isn't?"
"I guess we could get one of the nuns to call his mom. You know, tell her what happened, and that we're worried. She couldn't get mad at us for that. Could she?" The "could she" was a serious question. You never knew how a nun would react. After all, they weren't real people, were they?
Uncomfortable with the idea, Danny slung up his back pack and headed off to school with Mark beside him. The whole way there he kept wondering what could have happened to Tommy, and hoping that he was at school as Mark suggested. But something inside him told him he wasn't and they were making a big mistake by not finding out for sure.
Trying desperately to make the first bell, the two boys took a shortcut through the park. It was a tiny trail that would cut five minutes off their route. The only sticking point was the old rickety wooden bridge. The kids called it "Dead Man's Bridge" because it was a rope suspension bridge, and it swayed like crazy when you tried to cross it.
Picking up the pace, Danny and Mark hit the bridge on a dead run. Halfway across, they slowed to a walk when the bridge threatened to dump them into the murky water below. Reaching the other side, and breathing a sigh of relief, the boys could just barely see the school parking lot just ahead through the trees. They were going to make it, with just a little time to spare.
5
After about twenty minutes, Tommy ran out of tears and sat on the steps puffing. His throat was dry, his stomach hurt, he felt lost, and the kitten had not come back to play. His great day was going all wrong.
Suddenly, he stood up. He had made a decision. He was going to try to get to Danny and Mark. He had no way of knowing that they were already gone, nor did he know that it was now ten after eight and he was considered absent from school. Eventually, at some point during the day, the Mother Superior would call Mrs. Dougherty and inquire into Tommy's absence. But at present, he was just considered unaccounted for and assumed ill.
Tommy cautiously moved down the steps and onto the sidewalk. He was really unsure of which way to turn, but at last, he turned left and started walking. He didn't know it at the time, but he had chosen the correct direction. He also didn't know that he would very soon cross paths with something that would change his circumstances forever. All he knew was that he was walking. He was scared, but happy at the same time. He had made a decision...all by himself...and that made him smile.
Within a few minutes he found himself at an empty street corner. There was a little Scotty dog playing in the yard across the street. For ten minutes, he watched it romping around with a big red ball. He couldn't resist, he had to go see it. He looked up the street, forgot to look the other way, and stepped off the curb. His sneakers (he was allowed to wear sneakers to school instead of dress shoes because he was in the "Special Classes Group") crunched in the gravel that lined the gutter.
When he reached the other side, he knelt down at the fence and stuck his fingers through. The dog was already there. It had seen him coming and was running wildly back and forth along the fence line. His fingers got licked and nipped and it made him laugh. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get his hand through the chain link to pet the dog. At one point he got it stuck, but eventually managed to extricate it with an extra hard tug.
Mrs. Rittenhower came out a few moments later and called the dog in. Both the dog and Tommy reluctantly said good-bye. Tommy got himself to his feet and brushed off the knees of his suit pants. It didn't help much. Playing with the dog, while kneeling on concrete, took its toll. There were dark grey spots on both his knees that he couldn't rub out, and one had a small hole.
After the dog disappeared into the house, Tommy turned and started walking. He was not thinking about which way he should go; he did not notice that he was past the corner where he was to meet Danny and Mark, and that they weren't there; he just kept walking. A few blocks up he hit a kind of dead end. He either had to turn right and follow the street, or turn left and go through the park. Since the park looked more inviting to him, he turned left.
He ambled along the path, watching the birds and the occasional groundhog. The path seemed to spit tiny clouds of dust into the air with each step; they surrounded the front of his sneakers and then disappeared. He giggled and stomped harder. The more he stomped the larger the dust cloud – the larger the dust cloud - the more he giggled, and so it went.
Tommy walked along blissfully, if ignorantly. He hadn't noticed that the path had narrowed and the trees and shrubs had closed in on him. He was trying to whistle. It was a technique he couldn't quite master, but he never stopped trying. What came out when he tried sounded less like a whistle and more like the early steam that escapes from a teapot before it reaches the boiling point. Wiiiissssssssss-wisssssssssss.
6
Ruth had just finished vacuuming when the grandfather clock announced it was ten o'clock. She rolled the Hoover into the closet, draped the cord around the handle and closed the closest door. Grabbing her keys from the hook affixed to the side of the kitchen cabinet, she headed for the front door. On her way by the table she snagged her purse.
The screen door swung closed behind her. It was a kind of two part closing. First it rushed toward the frame, and then seemed to think better of it; it bounced back a foot and then closed slowly with a slight click.
Ruth climbed into the red Suzuki Forenza, started it up and backed out of the driveway. Cranking the steering wheel around with one hand she turned the car into the center of Oak Street and drove off. Two minutes later her phone rang and Mother Superior got no answer.
7
The day was warming up nicely. It was going to be a hot one for a spring day. It might even break eighty. The air was fresh and clean and full of scents that had been long dormant. Lilac bushes dangled their purple flowers like grapes on a vine and filled the air with a mellow sweetness. On the ground, patches of buttercups and winter cress dotted the greening grass.
Tommy pushed though a clump of bushes and stepped out into the clearing. Ahead of him was a small rope bridge. He stood absolutely still for the longest time, just looking at it and listening to the sounds that surrounded him. To Tommy, it was magical. It felt like he had found the secret doorway to Camelot, his favorite story. He was certain that once he crossed the bridge, the trees on the other side would open and there would stand King Arthur's castle. Maybe even King Arthur himself, or Lancelot.
Tommy didn't dream of Guinevere, he was too young for girls, at least mentally. As far as girls were concerned, his only thought was – iiicchhhh!
He stood there listening, hoping to hear metal clanging on metal as the knights jousted and fought in tournaments. In fact, he was sure he did hear it. It sounded far away, but it was there. Clank-ching; clank-ching, clank-clank-ching.
He took a few steps closer to the bridge. It was swaying in the light breeze, and even though he was anxious to get across to see King Arthur, there was something about it that made him hesitant. Nevertheless, he continued to inch forward until it was directly in front of him. Beckoning him, daring him.
The bridge swayed gently to and fro. With each swing the wooden planks strained against the ropes, making a whiny creaking sound. Crrreeeeeeek-yip-crrreeeeeeek-yip-crrreeeeeeek
The longer he listened, the more familiar the sound...it was as if someone were calling his name from a great distance. Tommmeeeeeek-tommmeeeeeek-tommmeeeeeek. He placed his right foot tentatively onto the first plank-eeeeeeek, then his left, tommmeeeeeek. He moved forward slowly, listening to each syllable that the bridge spoke to him. When he reached the center he stopped. First he looked all the way to the far end of the bridge, then back over his shoulder. He was at the exact center, and here...here the sound disappeared. No matter what he did, rocking the bridge, tugging on the rope railing, nothing more issued from the bridge.
Tommy stood there looking around. Then, suddenly, he dropped his book bag onto the bridge, grabbed the rope rail with both hands and looked over the side. Below him, the water was calm but murky. In the water, a boy stared back at him; the boy's hands were clasped tightly around the supports of a rope bridge and he appeared to be looking over the edge...but he was looking up – up at Tommy.
Tommy drew back from the edge of the bridge so suddenly he lost his balance and fell. One leg slipped through the slats of the bridge flooring and dangled in the air below him. The bridge rocked back and forth from the sudden movement, but there was no sound – no creaking.
Tommy tried to pull his leg up, but with each pull, another splinter worked its way into his calf. He started to cry. He wanted to rub where it hurt, but couldn't reach it. He could feel the tiny trickle of blood running down his leg into the top of his sock.
The bridge started to sway gently. With each swing of the bridge the boards that trapped his leg seemed to loosen. Tommy tried to pull his leg out again, but still couldn't. Then the boards seemed to part; like electrons being repelled by each other, the two planks around his leg separated.
"Now, Tommy, now," the wind seemed to whisper, "Now!"
Tommy gave one last tug. His leg came out easily, not rubbing against a single board. When he had freed himself, the planks that had held him firm once again closed ranks and lay side by side with only a narrow slit between them.
"C'mere, Tommy. I need to talk to you." The voice was soft and gentle and reassuring. It was a wispy, ethereal voice and it slipped into Tommy's ears and caressed his eardrums softly. "Down here, Tommy – in the water. Come talk to me."
Tommy got to his feet and edged over to the side of the bridge. He reached out for the rope support, but thought better of it and quickly drew his hand back. Cautiously, he leaned forward and looked down into the water. There was the boy again. Still holding onto the rope and looking up at him.
"I'm glad you're here, Tommy," he said. "Do you know who I am?"
"No. And I'm not supposed to talk to strangers."
"But we're not strangers, Tommy – not really. Can't you feel that?"
He could feel that. Somehow, Tommy knew that the figure in the water was a friend, a close friend. He even looked familiar, although Tommy couldn't remember where he'd seen him before. His face was smooth and his eyes gentle and kind. He had the same color hair as Tommy, but it was longer and combed differently than Tommy's. The face was older, more mature, than Tommy's too.
"I guess so," answered Tommy. "What's your name?"
"Well," said the face in the water, "just to make it easy, why don't you call me, John? You can remember that name easily enough, can't you?"
"Sure I can. That's dad's name – sort of. His name is Jack, but my...mom says...that that means...John."
"I know. And I know other things, too. I know lots of things about you, Tommy. You'd be surprised."
"Like what?" asked Tommy.
"Well, for starters, how about the fact that I know your birthday. It's in January, isn’t it?"
"Yup. It sure is." Tommy was getting excited. No one, except maybe his parents, ever talked to him like this...like a friend – like an equal.
"Betcha don't know what day though," quipped Tommy.
"Betcha I do," came the answer.
"Na-uh!"
"January twentieth."
Tommy started to giggle. His face was showing the biggest smile he'd ever had. He figured it out. He knew who the person in the water was. His mother had read him the story...the legend, she called it, of King Arthur and the Lady of the Lake. Maybe she got it wrong...maybe it wasn't a lady. It was John. It was John and he was right here.
"I know who you arr-arr; I know who you arr-arr," Tommy started singing. "You're the pee-pul...in the...lake. You're...King Arter's...friend."
Suddenly, the face in the water beneath him grew dark and strained. The forehead furrowed and the eyelids closed to mere slits. The eyebrows arched at an angle and the lips drew apart, forming themselves into a snarl.
"Be careful Tommy, get your bag – get your bag and go – now," the face said. "NOW," it screamed.
Tommy took a step back. The smile drained from his face and his hands started to shake.
Then, in a softer but still firm voice, the image in the lake said, "Run, Tommy. They're coming. Run!"
Tommy took off down the bridge. In his haste to get away he left his school bag behind. When he realized it, he stopped. He looked back at the bag and then at the path ahead. He was confused. He needed his bag, but he was told to run, and his mom said he should always listen to what he was told. But she also said to never forget to bring home your school bag and books. Tommy was frozen with indecision.
And then the choice was taken out of his hands.
8
After they reached the school parking lot, Danny and Mark started looking around for Tommy. They didn't have much time; the bell was about to ring. Two of the nuns were already on their way out to form them up into neat lines, like soldiers in a parade.
"I don't see 'im," said Mark
"Me either."
"Do you think he made it ok?" Mark was turning in circles, trying to see if he could see Tommy's face anywhere in the crowd of kids.
"I don't know," said Danny, "but he might already be inside. Sometimes they take the retar- er – special kids in first. Christ! He better be here, that's all I can say."
"I dunno, Danny. I got a really bad feeling about this. We better go ask one of the penguins."
"Yeah, I think you're right. Let's go."
The boys headed off toward the oncoming nuns.
"Oh shit," whispered Mark, "it's Bulldog and Fish."
Bulldog and Fish were two of the many unkind monikers the children had attached to certain nuns behind their backs. There was also Tankface, Sister Grandma and God's-zilla.
Sister Marie (Bulldog) raised an arm and pointed at the two approaching boys. She was a large woman, and the constrictiveness of the habit she wore pinched her cheeks inward, giving her the look that got her her nickname.
"You two, Daniel Mowery and Mark Twilling, get yourselves right back in that parking lot and start getting in line," she demanded.
"But Sister," began Danny, "We need-" Danny was cut off.
"What you NEED is to get back in the lot and get in line."
"It's very important," insisted Danny. "It really is."
"It may well be, Mr. Mowery, but for right now – get in line. Whatever it is will wait until we're all inside and seated. Now, no more!"
Danny looked at Mark and Mark at Danny. They were outweighed on this one. There was nothing else to do but comply, or face the wrath of Bulldog, which no one ever wanted to do.
9
The children in the Special Classes Group had already been assembled and marched into their classroom. When Sister Ellen noticed Tommy was not among them she gave them all a small reading assignment and hurried off to see Sister Rose Anne, the Mother Superior.
"Mother," said Sister Ellen, clutching the large crucifix that hung around her neck with her right hand, there's a slight problem. Tommy Dougherty did not show up for class today. Have you heard from his mother?"
Sister Rose Anne looked up over the top of her glasses without raising her head. Her desk was strewn with files, folders and papers. The computer she was working on was making an awful growling sound, like a nest full of hornets caught in a coffee grinder.
"No," said Sister Rose, "I haven't had any calls today at all. Except for this contraption here, she shot an angry glace at the computer tower, it's been a quiet morning so far."
"Perhaps you should give Mrs. Dougherty a call and see what's wrong," suggested Sister Ellen.
"I will do that," replied Sister Rose, "just as soon as I get these bloody tuition documents stored in this monstrous machine. The boy is probably sick; we'll no doubt be hearing from his mother before I get through. But if we haven't, I promise I'll give a call and let you know what's going on."
"Thank you, Mother Superior."
Sister Ellen nodded her head, a kind of bow of reverence to the Mother Superior and left. Sister Rose sat back for a moment and thought about the situation. She was intent on getting all the tuition forms filed on her computer by the end of the day, but the fact that the absent child was a Special Student bothered her. She reached over, shoved some folders out of the way, opened one - then threw it back on the pile. She grabbed another and tossed that aside too. Finally, she pulled out the correct file, the one containing the list of family names and contact numbers. She dialed the Dougherty's number.
On the other end, the phone rang four times, then a metallic voice said, "Hi, we're not home. Please leave a message and we'll get back to you as soon as we can. Bye!"
Sister Rose replaced the receiver. Must be at the doctor's or something, she thought to herself. I'll wait a bit and see if Mrs. Dougherty calls in. She then went back to her files, folders and papers. Giving a final glaring look at the computer tower, she reached over and gave it a slap. It whirred a few more seconds in protest and then stopped.
"As it should be," she said, "Humph."
10
"Ohhh...myyyy...God, what do we have here?" asked David McKenzie. "It's a retard...on our bridge."
David was tall, thin and wiry – and menacing. Had he attended school regularly, instead of spending most of his time cutting classes, he would have been a natural for the JV basketball team. Instead, he spent most of his time riling the neighbors and keeping the police busy.
Kevin Watson and Kenny Hagerty were two of David's partners in crime; the third, Karl Richter (originally Richterhaven, but changed when his father moved from Germany to America following WWII) was not with them today. Kevin and Kenny trailed along behind David as he approached Tommy.
Tommy's stomach instantly knotted up; he could feel his whole body start shaking. David and friends being around was never a good thing, and this was worse – this time he was alone. This time, Danny wasn't here to protect him. He had no idea what to do. He only knew how he felt – terrified and alone.
"Where ya goin', retard?" asked David, as Tommy started backing up onto the bridge, one step at a time.
"That's our bridge, you know. Did we say you could be on it? Did we give you permission to put your retarded feet on our bridge?"
Tommy didn't say anything, he just kept inching his way backward. He didn't know what else to do. But he did know he was in deep trouble. In his mind, if he backed up all the way to the other side, then it would be like a "take back", like the time Danny called him a mutt, and then said, "I'm sorry, I take it back." It would make everything ok, as if he had never walked on their bridge.
"Aren't-cha gonna say anything, mor-on?" asked Kevin
"Yeah," chimed in Kenny, "forget how to talk?"
Tommy just kept stepping back, one leg at a time, until he reached his school bag. He had forgotten it was there, and when he put his foot down, he lost his balance and went thudding onto the wooden planks. He just laid there on his back, his left knee hooked over his bag.
David, Kenny and Kevin broke out laughing. Kenny and Kevin were followers. They had latched onto David because he was everything they weren't. He had the tenacity and courage to assert himself, and better yet, he did it in a way which kept everyone else away. Nobody messed with David, so consequently, nobody messed with Kenny or Kevin.
David walked up to Tommy and stood over him. He looked down at him like someone would look down at a dog that had been hit by a car. But in this case, there was no compassion in the looker's eyes – no feelings of sorrow at seeing an injured and helpless animal. The only attributes that issued from David's eyes were evil and malice. With one hand, he reached down, grabbed Tommy by the front of his shirt and yanked him to his feet.
"There," he said, "that's better, isn't it?" He let go and started brushing Tommy off. "Wouldn't want your nice clothes to get all dirty, would we?" He brushed the dust off the front of Tommy, then spun him around and did the same to the back, turning him back around to face him when he had finished.
"There! All clean!" David laughed, looked back over his shoulder at Kevin and Kenny, and then shoved Tommy to the ground again.
"Ahhhh. He fell down again. What are we going to do with him? I can't stand here all day cleaning you off; can I, retard?"
David looked to his right. They were at the very center of the bridge. Below, he could see the murky water, still and silent, just waiting for something to be thrown in.
Tommy was petrified. He couldn't move, he was literally frozen with fear. He had wet himself, and was now in danger of soiling his pants as well.
"Give me a hand here, guys," said David. "We gotta help this clumsy oaf get clean."
Kenny and Kevin stepped around David, sniggering, and each grabbed one of Tommy's arms. They spun him around so that his back was up against the rope railing. The bridge was swaying violently from the commotion. Tommy's bowels gave way.
"Your mama wash your clothes, retard?" asked David. "Well, we're gonna save her the trouble. We're gonna get you and your clothes cleaned – all...at...once."
David reached down and grabbed both of Tommy's knees. Tommy should have been kicking, but he was too scared to do anything. He didn't move as David lifted his legs up. Tommy felt the rope railing start to dig into the small of his back. His head and shoulders were hanging out over the water. In a minute, he would be tumbling toward it, arms flailing wildly, grasping at nothing.
"Ok...hold him here a minute," commanded David, "give 'im a minute or two to think about what's going to happen. After all, he's pretty damned stupid, probably won't figure it out anyway...but we should watch 'im try."
11
Ruth pulled into the driveway, stopping in front of the garage door. They never used the garage for the car, it was filled with everything else that either wouldn't fit in the house or wasn't wanted in there.
She climbed out of the car, walked around to the back and popped open the hatch. Two of the three bags of groceries were still sitting where she put them, but the third, and its contents, had made a break for freedom. Three cans of Green Giant Niblets corn, a jar of Ragu spaghetti sauce, a jar of Hellmann's REAL Mayonnaise and two shakers of Kraft Parmesan cheese had skittered across the back of the Forenza.
"Crap!" she exclaimed. She gently pushed the two standing bags to the side and started to crawl in to corral the wayward items. She scooped up the nearest, then stretched herself out to retrieve the most daring member of the great escape...the parmesan cheese. Once she had them all marshaled back into their bag, she backed out of the car and hefted up the bags.
When she got to the front door, bags bundled in her arms, she lifted her right hip as high as she could to support them and wiggled the key into the lock. It took considerable effort to open the door without dropping the groceries, but she managed.
Stepping inside, she heard the last ring of the phone before it went silent. Probably just a sales call, she thought, but then stopped and thought again. When you're the mother of a disabled child, any phone call can raise your alert flag. Ruth plopped the groceries on the dining room table and checked the caller I.D.
Unknown Name
555-725-5517
Ruth knew the number by heart; it was Saint Angela's. Immediately, she redialed the number and waited anxiously while it rang. It seemed like forever before Mother Superior answered the phone, but in reality it was only a three-ring wait.
"Good morning, Saint Angela's. Sister Rose Anne speaking."
"Hello, Sister? This is Mrs. Dougherty. Did you just call? Is something wrong with Tommy?"
Sister Rose was stunned. She had assumed that Tommy was really home with his mother. This was obviously not the case. What she had to do now was twofold...keep the mother calm, and find out exactly what was going on. The first part would be the hardest, the second - the scariest.
"Mrs. Dougherty, Thomas (nuns preferred the formal) did not show up for school today. I was hoping he was home with you," she began, in a calm and even voice, "I take it that that is not the case."
"Oh my God, Sister...Oh my God." Ruth started to panic. All kinds of things, none of them good, were racing through her mind. She felt as if someone had wrapped her stomach in barbed wire.
"Calm down a moment, Mrs. Dougherty, panicking will not help. We need to think clearly." The nun's voice was soft and reassuring; it had a tone to it that told Ruth that Sister Rose Anne was a competent leader and knew exactly what she was doing.
Ruth took a few deep breaths. She realized that Sister Rose was correct...panicking would not help. She needed to get her emotions under control, quickly – before she went to a dark place from which she would never escape.
Slowly and calmly, mustering all the control that was in her, she said, "I'm on my way down, Sister. I'll be there in fifteen minutes."
"NO!" barked Sister Rose, "you mustn't do that. You need to stay at home in case he comes back."
"I'm gonna kill his cousin when I get him," exclaimed Ruth. If they're off somewhere playing hooky, I'm gonna ring his neck."
"What does his cousin have to do with this?" asked Sister Rose.
"Danny was supposed to walk Tommy to school today. I knew I shouldn't have let him go...I KNEW IT!"
"Ok, here's what I want you to do, Mrs. Dougherty...and it'll be the most difficult thing anyone's ever asked of you. I want you to sit tight and wait. I'm going to have a talk with Mr. Mowery and find out exactly what's going on. As soon as I do, I'll call you. Can you do that? Can you wait for me to call?"
"Yes, Sister. It won't be easy, I'll be pacing around like a caged animal until you call, but I'll be here."
"Good. I'm going to hang up now. Please try to remain as calm as you can, and I'll be back in touch with you VERY soon."
"All right Sister. Please hurry."
There was a distinct click as the connection was broken. Ruth stood there, receiver in hand staring into the mirror that hung above the phone. How could you have EVER thought it would be all right to let him walk by himself, was the sentence that kept echoing through her mind as she glared at her own reflection. How?
There was nothing for her to do now but pace and wait. She was tempted to call Jack, but she knew that it was not the right time for that – not yet. Hopefully, they'll find the boys off somewhere playing...they'll be in trouble, but at least Tommy would be safe. No, she better not phone Jack just yet, although the temptation to do so was overwhelming.
12
Kevin leaned forward and whispered into David's ear.
"You're not really gonna toss 'im over, are ya?" he asked.
"Sure, why not?"
"C'mon man, ya can't really do that. What if the retard can't swim? You don't really wanna kill 'im."
"Shut up!" demanded David. "When I tell ya, heave!"
It was at that point that it began. The water beneath the bridge began to bubble and spit, as if someone had set it to boiling. Spouts of mud and water flew upward spattering the boys. It continued to grow, both outward and upward, sending chunks of muddy earth, rocks and stones high into the air. They fell back like shrapnel, peppering the bridge and splashing back down into the water, only to be hurled upward again.
"Christ," yelled Kenny, in a panic, "What the hell's going on?" He had already let go of Tommy's arm and was backing away from the edge of the bridge. Kevin and David were also moving backward, but David still had a tight grip on Tommy's legs.
For the first time ever around David, Tommy felt safe. He relaxed. Even his cousin, Danny, who had defended him many times, didn't make him feel this safe. The "lady" of the lake, the John guy, was going to save him. He KNEW it!
Below them, the water churned, bubbled and spit. At its center, it swirled, forming a deepening whirlpool. The outer edges of it were popping and leaping upward, tossing debris, and the odd fish, fifteen feet into the air. Suddenly, the center coalesced, drawing the rim inward. The level of water on the bank receded rapidly. It was as if someone had opened a big drain plug at the floor of the pond.
The condensing water sank rapidly, pulling in on itself, and then exploded outward. A geyser of water, six feet wide and twenty feet high shot into the sky. Rocks, pebbles, fish, mud, and plants rained down onto the boys...all except Tommy. Not one stone nor drop of water ever touched him.
By this time, David had let go, and he and the other boys were cowering on the floor of the bridge in tight balls, their arms over their heads for protection.
"Shit," yelled Kevin, "I'm getting the fuck outta here. This is fucked-up."
"I'm right behind you," screamed Kenny. Even by shouting at the top of their lungs, they could barely hear each other for the rumbling and hissing that issued from the angry waters beneath them.
As soon as they stood up to run, the bridge twisted itself out of shape, buckling where they were standing but remaining completely flat and calm beneath Tommy's feet.
The undulating planks tossed the three boys around like a bucking bronco. Kevin got his ankle caught in one of the interwoven rope supports and slid over the edge. He dangled from the bridge by one leg, his arms thrashing wildly. Kenny tried to get to him, but every time he did, the bridge planks would rise up in front of him and knock him back.
David remained still, too shaken to move, arms over his head. Like Tommy had done, David relieved himself in his pants. He could feel its warmth spreading out across the front of him and down his legs. It was a new sensation for David. He had always been the one that generated fear in others, not the recipient. He discovered that things from this side of the fence were not quite as amusing as they were from the other side.
Above them, the geyser had spread out, appendages seemed to be forming. Watery, translucent arms sprang from the sides of the spout, twisting and turning. They elongated, shaping themselves. Liquid wrists and hands pushed outward from the ends of the foaming arms. The upper end of the arms folded inward creating large, fluid shoulders. From these, the fountain of water pushed upward – a neck, and then a head.
Rising twenty feet above them, the liquid figure took shape, looking down on them. Its translucent eyes narrowed and focused. There was more than just anger on its bubbling face – there was rage. It glared at them, sweeping its arms from side to side and in front of it, as if it were learning how to use them for the first time. The thundering sound it made was near deafening.
Kenny had finally managed to make it over to Kevin and extricate him from the ropes. On their bellies, they crawled toward the end of the bridge, clinging desperately to each plank as they pulled themselves along.
David was still frozen in place. But his fear was starting to turn to anger. He looked up and saw Tommy standing perfectly still, undisturbed by what was going on around them. None of this seemed to touch Tommy at all and this infuriated David.
Scared or not, David felt it was time to do something about this. How dare that little prick get away untouched, he thought. Time to show him what's what!
David dug into his pocket and pulled out his penknife. Frantically, he pulled on the edge trying to get it open. The thundering fountain of a person above him roared.
"Don't even try it!" it bellowed. It was a horrid deep, gurgling sound. The watery lips sneering and foaming as it formed the words.
One of the arms swung down and connected with David. The fluidic palm caught David on the right side of the body. The hand was huge, and despite being made entirely of water, it was solid. The force of the blow sent David rolling across the bridge like a ball. He could feel his left leg snap as it got caught between the flooring planks. A surge of agony shot through his body.
"Ahhhhhh!" The pain was excruciating. The leg had been snapped below the knee, and the tibia was sticking out through the skin. David felt he was going to lose consciousness; it started to go black. But he refused. His anger coursed through his body, and the adrenaline it produced kept him from blacking out.
"Ok, retard," he screamed, "time to get yours."
13
Ruth Dougherty picked up the phone on the first ring.
"Hello, Sister?"
"Hello, Mrs. Dougherty," said Sister Rose, "I have Daniel and Mark here with me. They are telling me that they never met up with Thomas this morning. Mr. Mowery claims he waited until the last minute, and when Thomas didn't show up he assumed that you had changed your mind and had driven him to school yourself."
"Oh my God, Sister. That means that he's still out there somewhere. Oh dear Lord."
"Please, try to calm yourself," said Sister Rose. Again, the tone in her voice told Ruth that she was a person who was always in control. "Do not panic. What I want you to do, or I can do for you if you feel it's best, is to contact you husband. I believe it's time we enlisted his help."
Ruth didn't even bothering answering. She pushed the button that disconnected that conversation and began dialing Jack's cell phone. Her hands were shaking and her heart racing. She could actually feel it pounding against her chest.
Jack's phone vibrated in his pocket. At the moment, he was bent over listening to Mrs. Applebury explain that she had, indeed, stopped at the stop sign.
"I'm very sorry, Mrs. Applebury," explained Jack, "but what you did is called a rolling stop. You are required to come to a complete stop – a stop lasting at least three seconds. You did not do that, Mrs. Applebury, you continued to roll forward and then accelerate through the intersection."
His phone stopped vibrating. And then began again. Whoever was calling was persistent.
"Officer Dougherty," said Rita Applebury, leaning forward to expose more cleavage. "I certainly didn't intentionally break the law. Isn't there a warning or something you could give me. I'd truly be really really grateful."
Jack shook his head. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to cite you this time, maam. This is not the first time we've discussed this."
"Oh please, Jack. You don't have to call me, maam. Really! It's not like we don't know each other. Our sons are in the same school system."
"I know, Mrs. Applebury, but I really don't have a choice here."
Rita twisted herself around in the seat, undoing another button on her blouse in the process.
"But I think you do have a choice," she purred, "I bet it'd be a really good feeling...to know you cut someone a break today." Rita dragged out the pause between the words "good feeling" and the rest of the sentence. The meaning was not lost on Jack.
"Mrs. Applebury. Please sign the ticket. I really don't want to have to make it any worse for you than it already is. It's a small fine, and it'll make your life a whole lot easier in the long run. Of course, you're absolutely free to contest it in court as well; it's your choice."