The Awakening (2 page)

If they were a few years older they would stop in at
the local tavern and drink their beer, get a little or a lot drunk, and yell
requests at the country and western band sweating out their own version of some
stale song. Sometimes things got a little too rowdy and a fight would break
out, but it was rarely a bad one; just people looking for release. If you could
move around in the town and listen with your ears, you would hear music and
laughter and the sound of a housewife doing the supper dishes and the muted
sound of a new color television or an old black and white set with a booster on
the shot picture tube; if you listened with a deeper part of your mind you
could catch bits and pieces of people’s lives, the hurts and angers and hopes
and loves that made them different from the beast.

*          *          *

Parker locked the front door of his store and went
into the back room that served as his living quarters. The television threw a
dim light over the small area and he stretched out on the low couch that doubled
as his bed. Everything in the room was in easy reach, including the tiny icebox
where he kept his beer. His way of life was habit formed from long years of
being a bachelor. He enjoyed it, but he was getting old and sometimes he got
lonely.

He thought about that young guy, Derek. There was
something about him that he liked. Maybe if he had married and had a son…
What
the hell. I’m getting senile
.

He grunted and dug into his icebox for a beer, then
turned the channel on the TV to the nine o’clock news.

*          *          *

Tony Tomalo flounced on his bed, feverish with
excitement. The morning seemed a million years away to his nine-year-old mind,
and his impatience was an actual pain in his chest. He rumpled his blond hair,
wanting to tell someone what he had found; but until he knew for sure, there
was no way he could without running the risk of being laughed at. After
tomorrow no one would laugh.

The cave was there, waiting for him to go inside and
find the treasure. He thought about how lucky he was. If his knife hadn’t
fallen into the water while he was fishing, he never would have found the
entrance to the cave just under the bank. He knew there was buried treasure in
it; he’d read books about pirate treasure and outlaws burying money, and this
cave was just right. Besides, he had found that axe blade with the strange
marks on it just inside the cave. Tomorrow he was going to take a flashlight
and the string he’d bought, go in that cave, and find that treasure. His mind
was almost bursting with the ideas of what he could do with so much money, and
of how proud of him his father would be.

He set the alarm clock for four-thirty A.M. and
stuffed it under the blankets so only he could hear it, then settled himself in
to wait for morning. It was a long night.

*          *          *

Ann Commers threw the paperback book she’d been
reading at her cat. The cat jumped and fled to the safety of his basket, where
he sat licking his paws and ignoring Ann with pointed contempt. She tried to
glare with a straight face, then gave up and laughed.

“Here you go, stupid. You started it, you might as
well finish it. It’s my fault for not making you one, too.” She scooted the
plate with the sandwich toward the cat and stood up, stretching.

She left her room, going through the house. It was
uncomfortably quiet with her folks away, and she felt restless. From the unlit
front porch, the black sky was fantastic, filled with thousands of stars. In
the eastern part of the sky, the Milky Way formed a dreamy path through the
heavens.
The trail to the happy hunting grounds, the Indians believed
,
she thought.
It’s like the inside of a huge pin cushion, with each star a
tiny hole poked through the night. I wonder if anyone is up there thinking the
same thing I am.

Why was it that nights like this left her with such
an empty, warm feeling in her stomach? What was it that brought the tears so
close? She hated working at the clothes store, and she hated living in Cider
Springs. Nothing ever happened, and all the men were either married, too old,
or just acted like children around her.

She felt the cat brush against her leg; he had
forgiven her earlier insults and now wanted attention. She picked him up and cradled
him in her arms, sighing.

The river gurgled and rushed, glinting a dull metallic gray in the
pre-dawn light. Tony made his way along the edge, jumping from boulder to
boulder when he had to, searching for the exact spot where he had found the
entrance to the cave. It was difficult, for much of the bank looked the same as
the particular area he had in mind, and the semi-darkness gave the landscape a
flat, unrealistic appearance. The beam from his flashlight danced ahead of him
until it landed upon a fallen spruce laying part way in the water.

I remember that. It was just a little ways down
from me when I found the cave!
Tony’s heart beat faster; he ran the last
few yards and dropped down on the grassy bank. He removed his shoes and stuffed
his socks inside, out of habit, and eased himself over the edge of the bank.

The icy cold of the water soaked through his clothes
instantly, leaving him numb and shivering. He carefully held the flashlight
above the water and began poking through the twisted roots and bushes,
searching for the right bottomless shadow. Suddenly it was there in front of
him. He stopped.
To go in there alone…

The mouth of the cave formed a black gap in the
crumbling bank just large enough for him to fit through easily. After a few
feet the tunnel expanded into a long, narrow cavern with a low ceiling. The
floor was covered with shallow water from the river.

Tony crawled head-first through the muddy tunnel,
feeling for the rough ledge he had found the day before. His hand felt the hard
surface. He wriggled his body to get his feet on it, struggling so he would not
fall into the dark water below. The place had a definite stink that was hard to
ignore.

Once on the ledge, he tied one end of his spool of
string to a heavy root hanging from the roof of the entrance, then tested its
strength with a firm tug; it held, and he was satisfied that it wouldn’t come
loose. The spool of heavy string held five hundred feet, which would give him
plenty of room for safe exploring in case the cave was deep. He doubted if he’d
need more than that.

The odd shaped axe blade lay on the ledge where he
had found it. He picked it up and held it in front of the flashlight so he
could see the marks on its sides. It wasn’t writing, at least not like any he
had ever seen before. They were more like crude designs. After a few moments he
gave up trying to figure them out and stuck the tarnished piece of metal in his
belt. It felt big and awkward.

He waded the length of the cavern cautiously; wary of
deep places in the stagnant water and watching for anything that might hint of
digging or treasure. Part of the cavern’s floor of the far side was deeper, but
a close search turned up nothing.

Disappointed, he turned his light on the walls. They
were rough and uneven, deeply shadowed from his flashlight, but there were no
openings leading from the chamber except for the one he had entered. At the
deepest point, the cave narrowed to a three foot width. A steep spill of dirt
and rocks blocked it almost to the ceiling.

Tony climbed the spill high enough to see the top,
expecting a dead end but hoping there might be something on the other side.
Instantly he forgot the cold and awful smell of the cave. It was blocked, but
not in the way he had expected; a smooth, dark metal surface reflected his
light. Excited, he scrambled the rest of the way up the spill.

The metal surface spanned the distance between the
walls and was set tightly into the stone at the top and both sides. A few
minutes of digging convinced Tony that the metal went far down, probably to the
floor of the cave, and it was unlikely that he could reach it unless he wanted
to move two tons of dirt and rock. It was obvious that it was a doorway of some
type. He tapped on the metal with a piece of rock and could hear a faint,
hollow booming. That meant there was room on the other side, at least. The
question was how to get to it.

The axe blade! He pulled it out of his belt and
hefted it. The metal of the door didn’t seem to be too thick, and with any luck
he might be able to pound or pry a hole in it. At last he would be able to see
what was on the other side.

He started prying experimentally at the edges of the
metal plate, then stopped, fascinated by what happened; sparks radiated from
the axe blade. He tried it again. The blade grew warm, seeming to vibrate in
his hand, and the narrow band of sparks formed a flowing blue aura as if an
electric current were passing through it. He shrugged; it was neat, but taking
the time to figure out what was causing it would slow him down. And there was
the treasure, just waiting for him to find it. He grinned, aimed the blade at
the obstruction, and took a hard swing.

His scream was lost in the explosion of light and
heat.

*          *          *

Derek woke. Not slowly, piece by piece like civilized
men do, but suddenly and completely, like an animal sensing danger. He could
see the first edges of dawn seeping through his window, and he searched his
room with his eyes for some unknown threat. For a moment, he was ten years old
again; a crumpled blanket was a menacing evil, and unthinkable horrors lurked
in shadows and closets left slightly ajar.

It took a long time for him to find sleep once more.

*          *          *

Mrs. Jameson was at the bottom of the stairs,
wrestling with the heavy, ancient vacuum cleaner when Derek finally descended
from his room. Her hair was drawn back in a severe, unattractive bun, giving
her already rounded face a moon-like quality above her flower-print dress. She
shut the wheezing machine off and smiled when she saw him.

“Good morning, Mr. Hanen. Did you sleep well last
night?”

“Pretty much so. And please, call me Derek.”

“Okay. Ernie called a little while ago, about your
car, and wanted you to call him or come by the station when you got the chance.
He said it could wait, so I didn’t want to wake you up. You seemed tired last
night.”

“I was. I’m going to grab a cup of coffee at the
diner, then I’ll trot of down and see what he says. Thanks for the message.”

“You’re welcome. Have a nice day.”

*          *          *

Derek had barely stepped through the front door of
the diner before Parker’s hail shot across the dining area. He glanced around
the tables until he spotted the old man waving an invitation, and was almost to
the table before he noticed the young woman Parker had been talking to. She was
pretty, dressed in jeans, sandals, and a green blouse. Her hair was dark brown
and long, tied back with a piece of green yarn. She smiled at him as he sat
down.

“Good morning son. You gonna have some breakfast?”

“No, just some coffee.” As if cued, the waitress
appeared at his elbow with a cup and a steaming glass pot of coffee. He
declined the menu and thanked her.

Parker wiped his plate with a piece of toast and
popped it into his mouth, then washed it down with coffee. He ran a hairy hand
across his face, and as an afterthought wiped his hands with a napkin. After
all, there was a lady present.

“How’s your car, son?”

“I don’t know yet. Haven’t checked. Ernie called the
hotel this morning, but I wasn’t up.”

The girl sipped her coffee while glancing at Derek
with interest. Parker grinned when her foot gave his leg a gentle but firm
reminder of her presence.

“Forgetting my manners. Derek, this is Ann, part of
the local crop of youngsters.”

“I’m not a ‘youngster’, I’m nineteen,” she said with
mock indignation, then smiled at Derek. “Hi, Derek.” Derek returned her smile.
She was pretty, especially when she smiled.

Parker cleared his throat to draw Derek’s attention.
“If you’re going to be around a while, you want to do some fishing? The river’s
good this time of year, and I can loan you a rod if you need one.”

“Sounds good to me. I’ve got to check on my car
first, but that won’t take very long. What about your store, though?”

“I don’t worry about it on the weekends much. That’s
a privilege of being one of them business owning senior citizens. I just hang
up a sign saying that if they can’t keep their shirt on, they can hunt me down
and I’ll open it up for them. If I want to go fishing, I guess I’m going to.
There ain’t no law that…”

A tall man in overalls stood just inside the doorway
to the diner. He surveyed the room with his eye, saw Parker, and came over to
their table. Derek could sense a controlled irritation in the way the man
stood, his jaw forming a hard line. He ran a callused hand through his straw
colored hair.

“What’s the matter, John?” Parker asked. “You need
something from the store?”

“No. I’m looking for that boy of mine. He’s been gone
all morning, and I had to do his chores. You seen him?”

“No, not this morning. He was in my store late
yesterday, bought some string. That’s the last I saw him.”

“Well, if you do, you tell him to get his butt home.
If I got to do any more of his chores, he isn’t going to be able to sit on
anything hard until he’s twenty. Morning.” He nodded to Ann and Derek and
stomped away.

Derek watched the man leave the diner, then turned
back to catch the old man grinning. “Is that the boy that almost ran over me at
the store yesterday?”

“Yup, that’s the one. Tony. He’s a good kid.”

Derek sipped his coffee and thought about the boy,
how it could have been a scene from his own boyhood. His smile faded as a
shadow seemed to pass in front of his vision. It grew darker for a moment, then
black, and deep in the blackness he saw- no, felt- something move.

Then it was gone.

“…with us, Derek?”

“What? I’m sorry, I was thinking of something.”

Ann repeated her question. “I said, ‘how long are you
going to be with us?’”

“I don’t know. I’m waiting for my car to be fixed,
probably won’t be very long.”

“Too bad. Sticksville could use a new face or two.
Oh, most of the people around here are nice enough, but it seems like nothing
ever happens. This place is so boring.”

Derek smiled. “I doubt if I could add much to the
local color. I’m about as boring as they come.” He finished his coffee and
stood up. “I’d better be checking on my car, but I’ll probably see you later.
If you want, maybe you could show me some of the less boring points of interest
before I leave.”

“I’d like that. How about this afternoon? I’m not
working.”

“I doubt if my car will by fixed by then.”

“I have my own car, if you can stand a girl driving.
That way I’ll have you at my mercy.”

Derek laughed. “Okay by me, as long as you’re
merciful.”

“Good enough, then. How about you meet me here when
you’re done?”

“Sure.”

“Women.” Parker broke in, snorting. “Always dragging
a man away from important things, like fishing. Unless it’s some type of
fishing of their own that they’re up to.” He winked at Derek and took a sip of
coffee. “Drop by the store when you get yourself unhooked, son, and we’ll pack
up and head out. I know some good places.

*          *          *

Ernie’s gas station was small and run down. The tail
end of his Plymouth stuck out of the single repair booth, giving Derek the
impression of a horse in its stall. The lone individual apparently operating
the station was pumping gasoline into a beat-up, red Chevy pick-up. Derek
leaned against the Plymouth and waited.

The pickup groaned to life and shuffled away. The man
gave it a wave, then headed toward Derek, wiping his hands on a shop rag. He
was a short, husky built man with shaggy black hair. A pair of steel-rimmed
glasses perched on his nose, and the thick lenses gave his eyes an owlish,
oversized look.

“Hi, I’m Ernie,” he said, stuffing the rag into his
pocket. “You’re the guy that belongs to the Plymouth, right?”

“Right. Is the verdict in?”

“Yeah. Come over and I’ll show you what the problem
is.” Ernie led the way into the shop through a maze of tools, boxes, and empty
oil-cans scattered on the floor. He stopped at the open hood of the Plymouth,
and Derek could see that the motor was partially disassembled. “You know much
about cars?” Ernie asked. Most people he knew didn’t know any more about
mechanics than they did about Astrophysics, and it was frustrating to try to
communicate with them.

“Enough to get by when I have to.”

“Good, take a look.” Ernie leaned under the hood and
pointed to the front of the motor. “The timing chain is busted all to hell. I’m
going to have to replace it.”

“Have you got one in stock?”

“That’s the bad part, I don’t. Keeping specialized
parts like that on hand is too expensive, and I don’t get enough call for
them.” Ernie hesitated, looking apologetic. “I can order one, but it’ll take a
couple of days to get here, probably.”

“Well, it doesn’t look like I’ve got much of a choice,”
Derek said, sighing. “Go ahead and order it. If you need to get in touch with
me, I’ll still be at the hotel, okay?”

“Sure. Wish I could get it for you sooner.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ve got a couple of things to
do to keep me busy for a while.”

*          *          *

The blue Fairlane had been a present for Ann’s
eighteenth birthday, even though it had taken months of hinting before her
parents had hesitantly bought it for her. Most of the money she made working
part time at the dress shop she spent on the car, paying for insurance, tires,
and gas. “Responsibility,” her father had sternly pointed out, “is what a
person must have if they are to own an automobile. We shall see, young lady.”
Then he had winked and given her the keys. Since that time, driving her own car
had been a source of pure enjoyment.