LIFERS Chapter Twenty Three

At the door to Chambers, Gregg held his Colt in one hand and Zach’s flashlight in the other, and he and Jill were about to go in. Earlier in the stationroom, Jill had confessed that shooting Zach was the first time she’d fired a gun, a confession that didn’t fill Gregg with much confidence. So he spent five minutes to instruct her on how to hold it, how to refill it, and how not to point it at anyone until she needed to use it.

Jill had emptied the box of spare bullets she found in the patrol car into her two front pockets and filled the vacant slot in the magazine, she gave Gregg his jacket back to protect him from dripping water in the tunnels, and he’d taken Zach’s hat for the same reason. Jill’s protection was one of the woollen blankets from the stationroom, which she cut a hole in and pulled over her head, poncho style.

‘Are you ready?’ Gregg said.

With lips bitten together, Jill took deep breaths through her nose and gave three rapid nods in answer to his question.

Gregg put the flashlight in his jacket pocket and took hold of her hand. ‘Close your eyes,’ he said. ‘And don’t open them until we’re in the tunnel, okay?’

More rapid nods.

He pulled open the door to the hum of the flies and moved fast across the floor as he proceeded between the corpses, but half way to the hatch Jill’s foot caught a twisted floorboard and she stumbled and broke free from his grip. Reflex kicked in and she opened her eyes to the savagery bestowed upon the six bodies around her. Down her nose she let out a long, muffled scream and froze. Gregg reached out, grabbed her again, and dragged her into the shaft and down to the tunnel.

At the bottom she rested her hands above her knees and took deep breaths to get some much needed oxygen into her bloodstream. ‘That’s what Ella meant wasn’t it? Hooking up.’

Gregg nodded. ‘I hoped you wouldn’t see that. Are you okay?’

‘Yeah, can’t get any worse, right?’

‘No,’ he said, thankful she couldn’t see his eyes.

The tunnel was a little over six feet wide, with a height of around eight; the walls were slick with rain leakage, and the air felt cool and smelled strong of damp soil.

Gregg flicked the flashlight over the walls of the tunnel to see miniature waterfalls wash away fist-sized globules of mud.

‘This doesn’t look safe,’ he said, then pinched at one of the uprights and came away with a handful of wet, rotten wood. ‘Half of these struts have kinked under the strain.’

‘Well that lot must think it’s okay.’

He shrugged. ‘I suppose.’

‘And it’s not like we have much of an alternative. It’s either this or wait until the rain stops.’

‘Waiting isn’t a luxury for us,’ he said, and set off along the tunnel. ‘I only hope we’re not already too late.’

After about twenty yards they reached a left turn and Gregg pulled the map from his back pocket. ‘According to this, about two-hundred yards that way are two off-shoots. The one on the left leads to the schoolhouse, and the one on the right takes us to a place called “Dill’s Garage”, any preference?’

‘I thought we were going to the town hall?’

‘We are, but we need to know the other buildings are empty. We can’t risk one or more of them sneaking up on us. So, are you Democrat or Republican?’ he said, slipping the map in his back pocket.

‘Democrat.’

‘Then the schoolhouse it is.’

As they went deeper into the maze of the water-logged tunnels, Gregg felt more and more uncomfortable. Add to that the numerous reflective drips passing through the flashlight’s beam as it sliced the darkness, and his worry-meter maxed-out.

At the steps up to the schoolhouse, Gregg shone the flashlight on the hatch, and although the ceiling of the tunnel was around eight feet, the hatch itself looked to be another four or five feet higher. He put his gun into his jacket pocket and was about to stand on the first step when he noticed it snapped in two, as was the second step, he placed his weight on the third only to have that snap like a soggy, stale biscuit.

‘You try,’ he said, and passed Jill the flashlight.

She took it and pushed the Magnum into the back of her jeans.

Gregg held her by the waist and helped her get a foot on the fourth step. A little at a time she rested her weight on it and it seemed to hold.

‘Take it easy,’ he said. ‘And only put part of your weight on the next step, if you think it’ll hold, carry on.’

Jill nodded and climbed for two more steps, then a fourth and fifth, and then higher until her head touched the wooden hatch that led into the schoolhouse. She steadied herself by pressing her hands against the wood and pushed upward to take a little of its weight. And in doing so, the stair beneath her to creaked. She felt sure it was about to give way and send her twelve feet to the muddy floor below to break both legs. She swallowed and closed her eyes as she took the full weight of the hatch and pushed it half open. The damp, sodden wood under her feet began to bend as it took the extra strain, but it held.

The room above lay in darkness, so Jill flicked the flashlight in every direction; she needed to be certain there were no more corpses hanging around. It didn’t smell like there were.

‘Looks all clear,’ she said, then climbed out and moved the flashlight around the walls where she located a lightswitch, she flicked it and two fluorescent tubes out of six flickered into life.

‘See if there’s something for me to climb up,’ Gregg called.

The room looked to be a small storage area; a half dozen dust-covered school desks had been stacked in one corner along with two file cabinets and a dozen or so wooden toys. Close to a door that led from the room was a length of coiled rope with knots tied into it that someone had fastened to a metal pipe, she lifted the rope and tossed it down the shaft.

‘Heads up,’ she said.

After Gregg climbed out, he pulled the rope back up, just in case.

‘It was already tied to that pipe,’ Jill whispered.

‘That could mean we’re not alone, then.’

She nodded. ‘That’s what I thought.’

Gregg pushed on the door to find a classroom on the other side, and to their left, half way down the room, was a tall black chalkboard on wheels, in front of which sat a desk and chair much bigger than the ones huddled in the centre of the room, and in the far right corner was another door.

They both set off across the room at the same time; Gregg to his right, where the entrance and four murky windows overlooked Main Street, and Jill straight ahead, where she stopped at one of the smaller central desks. She pulled her finger across the years of accumulated dust on its surface.

‘Well one thing’s obvious,’ she said, her tone hushed, ‘there are no children in Martinsville.’

Gregg was looking out the windows to see the sun had risen, but due to the weather wasn’t giving off much light. ‘As far as I’m concerned,’ he said, ‘there are three children here.’

‘I meant...’

He turned, walked over. ‘Sorry, one-minded, I guess.’

Jill opened the desk and found small scraps of paper scattered inside. One of which had been meticulously folded into quarters, she opened it out to see a scribbled essay with a drawing of a stick-man flying a kite. She sat in the small chair and began to read it in a raised whisper.

Wot I did yestaday
David Marsh 8

‘yestaday me and my frend jim went out to play in the sunhsine we ave been frends for a year now it must be a year cause i was 7 and now im 8 so that makes a year oh an jim is 9 wen he come to my door he ad is kite so i got mine and we went to play in bones creek an jim sed its calld bones creek cause is dad fownd a milyon bones ther an giv um to is dog but I dont fink that is treu it want windy ther so we went to the pits to frow stons in an jim fel in the water so I showtid sum men an they came ovre but dint get im out I showtd mor but they dint do nofin I wish I cud swim so I cud hav help jim now jims not sat naer me in skool no more thats wot i did yestaday”

Jill stared at the drawing and sighed. ‘Poor kid.’

Gregg could feel the seconds just tick away; he wanted to get the search done and move on. He took the piece of paper from Jill and put it back in the desk. ‘Come on,’ he said, we need to check this place over.’

As Jill stood, a thud sounded in the room above them. Gregg pushed a forefinger to his lips and drew his gun, Then made his way over to the door in the opposite corner of the room and Jill followed.

The frosted glass in the top half of the door obscured any detail beyond it so he pushed it open an inch and peered through the crack.

‘There’s a stairway,’ he said. ‘Stay quiet and wait here. You got that? Wait here.’

Jill nodded.

Gregg pushed two fingers on the door to open it wide enough to slip through and crept up. At the top he stood at another door, and because he was sure the person on the other side would be armed, he made ready. With a quiet click, he chambered a round and hunkered down to lessen his size as a target. Big mistake, his weight shifted and one of the boards beneath him creaked.

‘That you Sheldon? Hey, Sheldon, you out there?’

Gregg froze, stayed low behind the door, he looked to Jill, she nodded at him, urged him to answer the voice.

‘Uh huh,’ he said.

A shot blasted the door just above his head and showered him in splinters. He raised a hand to let Jill know he wasn’t hit then heard the rapid movement of feet; he looked through the bullet hole to see a black guy disappear through another door. Gregg entered the room and hid behind a wooden crate where he listened for more movement. He heard a quiet scattering coming from behind and turned ready to shoot. No one there, just dust falling from above, Sheldon’s mate was in the attic.

He moved to the door and pushed it open, another staircase, this one dark, foreboding, if the guy had been standing right before him, Gregg wouldn’t have known he was there. Again, and as silent as he could, he started up. Two steps later he saw a flash, heard a bang, felt pain burn through his left shoulder. He raised his own gun and managed one shot. A cry of pain followed by footsteps moving into the attic space told him his aim was more one of chance than one of skill. He slipped his hand inside his jacket to find the wound to be tissue damage at worst, but it still stung like a bastard. As he neared the top, two shots rang out and shattered more woodwork; and both missed his head by microbes.

His only hope of killing this guy would be to empty his gun into the attic, but without knowledge of his exact location he wasn’t guaranteed success. He could wait for him to make a move of his own and reveal his position, but waiting wasn’t an option. He poked his gun around the edge of the door ready to blast away the last of his ammo when three booms came from the room he just left. A crunch from inside the attic made Gregg to poke his head round the doorway, but all he saw was a shaft of light and rising flecks of dust.

Back downstairs he found Jill standing over the man; one bullet, and probably the only one to hit him, had entered under his chin and took half his brain out the exit wound.

‘Nice shootin’, Tex,’ Gregg said.

Jill shrugged, moved aside the poncho and put the gun in her jeans. ‘It was easy; all I did was fire where the dust was falling.’

Gregg checked the damage to his jacket. ‘Ruined,’ he said.

‘He shot you?’

‘It’s just a flesh wound.’

‘Let me see.’

He started to remove his jacket then realised something about the falling dust. ‘Hold on,’ he said. ‘So you had no idea who it was you were shooting at?’

Jill didn’t reply.

‘You do realise it could’ve been me you hit?’

Silence.

‘Did that not in any way even occur to you?’

‘I guess you’re just lucky around me,’ she said.

‘Damn lucky you didn’t kill me, you mean. And what part of stay quiet and don’t move didn’t you understand?’

‘Actually,’ she said, lifting the blood-stained sleeve of his T-shirt. ‘That’s not exactly what you said, you told me to wait, which I did.’

The bullet had passed through his shoulder muscle and taken with it a chunk of flesh the size of a cigar butt, and already the blood had clotted.

‘Yeah, wait until I got back,’ he said.

‘Okay … what if you hadn’t got back, what should I have done then? What if this shot hit you in the head and not your shoulder, what should I have done? Tell me, Gregg. Should I have waited for him to come instead of you? Should I have waited for him to come taste the honey-salt?’ She dropped the sleeve like she was slamming down the phone. ‘You’ll live, unfortunately, but it’ll need a dressing.’

She was right and he knew it. If she hadn’t followed him, if she hadn’t used her brains and fired where the dust was falling, he could so easily have been lying there. ‘You’re right,’ he said. ‘And I’m sorry for shouting.’

‘Really? Are you sure about that?’

A nod. ‘Uh huh.’

‘Okay. Apology accepted.’

He smiled, slipped his jacket on. ‘Now we find Sheldon.’

Back in the classroom, Jill opened the desk of David Marsh and took out the folded piece of paper and pushed it into her back pocket.

‘Why’d you do that?’

She shrugged. ‘Don’t know. Just didn’t want to leave it.’