Where Darkness Dwells (33 page)

"That's when you saw the slaves?"

"We'd killed them. I saw it with my own eyes. Their blood was dry under my nails. I could smell it in my nostrils. But when we got back to where we'd left them, all we found were blood trails leading deeper into the ground."

"And you followed?"

"Of course. We'd never let a slave escape our bonds. We weren't about to start. We found them soon enough. Never let them out of sight after that." He pulled away from her, turning his back to her. He thought she might come to him again, but she didn't. For some reason this made him respect her more than he already did. "My mother lived less than a hundred miles from here. I moved her in town to watch after Jasper while we organized things Underground. Thea, he's gonna die. It's certain. I haven't seen him in so long."

"I'm so sorry."

"It's fine. I sent for him."

There was a knock on his door. Before he could reach the door, it opened.

He was angered over the intrusion until he saw the look on Leo Borland's face.

"What is it?"

"He's gone, Ethan. We were too late."

"What do you mean? He already… he was already…"

"No. He's alive, well, as far as I know. But he left this." Leo handed Ethan a small scrap of paper.

It contained three small words written in an arthritic script:
You're too late.

Ethan tore the paper and fed it to a candle's flame. "It's over…" He turned away from Leo and Thea. He paced the room several times, then squared his shoulders and faced Leo. "Get your brothers, Scully, and three other trusted men. When you see Scully, tell him we're gonna move on that list we put together."

Leo didn't say he knew about the list, but his wide grin spoke more than words.

9.

Jimmy woke from a terrible dream. Woke from one nightmare right into another. He was trapped forever, a prisoner in his own town.

His dreams were getting worse, and the horrible details lingered longer after waking. In his dreams, Louise was on the verge of losing her balance at the edge of a cliff. She'd reach for him, her fingers grasping the air, and then gravity would take her, pulling her away from him. Her frightened eyes never wavered as she fell. Her screams, so heartrending, breaking apart, resounding, reforming until the wail was that of a colicky baby.

He blinked in the darkness, cold sweat slicking his face, his back. He thought he would be sick. Flat on his stomach against the cavern floor, the world spinning beneath him, bile seeped into the back of his throat, gagging him. She needed him. Louise needed him and he would do whatever it took to see her again.

But if he went to her now, she would be frightened of him, even more frightened than what his nightmares could articulate. If he could ever escape this hell, his flesh would quickly decay. Harold had told him the gruesome repercussions for leaving the confines of the Underground. The old Negro believed that God had seen such horrible sights in these caves that He had turned a blind eye on this little section of the world. Once He had made His decision, time dwelled on the second He left. Jimmy didn't know if he believed Harold. Jimmy wasn't raised religious, but there had to be some explanation.

"You had that nasty dream again, Mr. Jimmy?"

He didn't say anything to Harold. Didn't even acknowledge him. Since he learned he could never leave the Underground, Jimmy's thoughts had turned increasingly inward in an ever-tightening, darkening spiral. He no longer feared a beating from his captors, no longer feared the most agonizing pain. For the first time in his life--a life pursuing exhilaration and feats of daring--Jimmy no longer valued his own life.

It made him think about how he had once fallen two stories from the roof of Magee's Barbershop after attempting to walk the precarious edge from one side to the other. A crowd had formed at street level, gasping at his nerve. As soon as he lost his balance on the crumbling brick, the sighs turned to sharp shrieks. He remembered thinking as he plummeted that the onlookers were so full of fear, even though he was the one falling to the hard-packed ground below. Once his mom knew he would be fine after his broken ankle healed, she tore in to him like she had never before or ever since. Inside Dr. Thompson's office, she had cried over Jimmy's battered body, alternating between tears and rage. She pleaded with him, demanding to know why he wanted to die so much, why he couldn't value the life she had given him.

He remembered her reaction to his response more so than her words. She was appalled by his lack of remorse, shocked by his indifference, yet all he'd said was that he did value his life, and that was his reason for doing the things he did. He had told her that nothing made you value life more than risking it. She had stormed from Thompson's office, murmuring about how he was just like his father. It seemed like that was her response to everything he did, everything he said.

"You can't just let time slip away, let your dark thoughts consume you, Mr. Jimmy."

"Darkness. That's all that's left, Harold."

"Memories, they're gifts. Even with no other hope, if you keep your dearest memories to think back on, well, you're better than dead. Ain't nobody, not Arthur Scully, or the Borland's, or Ethan Cartwright his ownself can take them memories away."

"Memories fade, you've said so yourself."

"Time drags, sure, dulls details, but--"

"Shut up, Harold. I don't want to hear it," Jimmy snapped, cutting off Harold's words. "Leave me alone."

Harold didn't respond. Though their corner of the old stables was completely dark, he could clearly hear Harold scurry along the floor until he was close enough that Jimmy thought the Negro would attack him.

Let him come at me,
Jimmy thought.
I don't care.

Harold fumbled his fingers along Jimmy's arm until he reached his hand. He pried open his fingers and placed something in his palm. Without a word or explanation, Harold went back to his resting spot and settled in. It was a while before Jimmy considered the blunt shape in his palm. He turned it over with his fingers. It was a coarse metal file no longer than his ring finger. Harold had given him a tool for escape, and also the briefest glimmer of hope.

10.

Breaking up the bunch beans was women's work, and Jacob was at the kitchen table doing just that. With a basket of beans at his feet, he was slicing with a paring knife against a cutting board to break the beans. In Jacob's opinion, cooking was and always would be women's work. He scowled under his breath as he reached for the basket and collected another fistful of beans.

After working nonstop from sunup to sunset yesterday, his mom was off to Calder's for kitchen staples. Before she left, she declared through a stifled yawn that she would catch up on some shuteye just as soon as she returned. Louise was outside chatting away with her friend Mary, ducking the cooking duties with the excuse that she needed to finish a needlepoint doily thingamabob before the baby arrived. They sat on a wooden bench in the shade of the house just outside the kitchen, doing their needlepoints. The shade was ten degrees cooler than inside the house, and as they sipped lemonade, they buzzed about their gossip like flies in a pigpen.

With Ellie gone, and the other women occupied, breaking the beans and other unseemly chores fell on him. Before turning in last night, Jacob and his mom went over to the Banyon place to drop off Ellie's clothes. Of course it had been just an excuse to make sure Ellie was okay and to see for themselves if Mr. Banyon's sobriety had lasted another night. Much to their surprise, the Banyon place looked like a different house when they walked in. The floors and walls were clean. There weren't any dirty dishes piled up. Mr. Banyon was sober, but still shaky and bleary eyed. Ellie looked at peace being at home. She'd even laughed when her dad pretended to steal her nose between his middle and index fingers. She was too old for such humor, but any humor shared between them seemed like the healing kind. Still, Jacob didn't trust him. Jacob wouldn't admit it aloud to anyone, but he sure missed that girl. Even though things had seemed to be fine last night, he'd promised himself to stop in now and again to keep an eye on things.

It wasn't long before the gusting wind died outside and he could hear the girls' conversation through the open kitchen window. "I think she might'a fallen off her rocker. She doesn't seem to have a care in the world." It was Louise speaking. Jacob got up from his chair and crept closer to the window. He couldn't wait to find out who was off their rocker. "I know if it was my son," Louise said, pausing, "Or my daughter that'd gone missing, I'd be a little more concerned than she's showing."

Anger welled inside Jacob. He was about to rush outside to confront Louise, when Mary broke in, "But you all know he enlisted. He told you he was leaving, and then word came up from Peoria."

"I know. I'm glad he's safe, even though I'm mad as heck with him. But Lord knows I couldn't raise a baby on my own. With him taking off'n my family turning their back on me, I just can't help feeling, I don't know, insulted? offended? that no one gives a darn. As soon as I found out Jimmy was okay, oh I knew I could forgive him when he comes home. I can't wait to kiss him again. If I close my eyes, I can imagine his lips on mine. Then I can't help feeling that… that swooning feeling."

"It has to be love," Mary said, and they laughed in their chatty way. Their laughter quieted down, replaced by the sound of needles puncturing fabric and threads pulled through chintzy mosaics.

"So, are you settled in?"

"Jane gave me her room, which was nice of her, even though I feel bad with her sleeping on the sofa. I'll be here until Jimmy gets home, whenever that is, and then we'll get a place of our own. Just the three of us," she said happily. "I know the house looks small, and compared to my parents' house, it's about the size of a tool shed, but I'm welcome here, and that's all that matters. They care for me. Me and the baby. Now, if I could just shake off this nausea."

"Can I do anything to help?"

"No, it just comes and goes. Right now, it's none too bad. Doc Thompson told me I'd just have to tough it out. He's probably just punishing me for not seeing him sooner."

"It's good he saw you."

"I know. It just makes it all too real. And a Halloween baby, to boot. It is real, isn't it?"

A contemplative silence seemed to end their conversing. Jacob went back to the table to finish the beans.

"What about Jacob, how's he been?" Mary asked.

Jacob's ear perked up again at hearing his name.

"Oh, he's a bit of a devil." Jacob came close to speaking out, but bit his tongue. "Even so, I've never had a little brother. I guess how he acts is normal."

"Sounds like a little brother to me."

"You should know, with what four now?"

They both laughed again. "Well, I think he's cute. Doesn't he have the nicest brown hair?" Mary said distantly.

"Who?"

"Well, Jacob Fowler, of course."

Jacob's face felt hot, full of fire. His pulse raced; he couldn't believe his ears. Sitting back at the kitchen table, he fidgeted with the bunch beans, already done with the pile. For some reason, he wanted to appear busy. He couldn't remember a time when he felt so embarrassed with no one else in the room.

It seemed like the girls had forgotten about discretion as the volume of their conversation increased. He could hear their conversation all the way over by the kitchen table.

"Mary, he's what, two years younger than you?"

"I know, but two years from now he won't even give me the time of day. He'll be courting girls who bat their eyelashes just so and wear the nicest clothes, and talk eloquent like."

He edged to the corner of his chair, just far enough to catch a glimpse of Mary's blonde hair through the window. It was curly, a bit too long to be stylish, but still nice. He wanted her to stand up, so he could see how tall she was. Even if she liked him, he didn't think he could ever drum up the nerve to talk to her if she were taller than him.

If Jimmy was here, he'd know what to do.

He didn't know if he liked Mary. He'd never thought about her in that way. She was just Louise's mousy friend who hovered around demurely asking Jacob what he was up to. Thinking back on it, she'd been giving off signals since visiting the day of Louise's arrival. This whole time he thought she'd just been acting polite.