Bottled Abyss (7 page)

Try to throw the coin at them, scare them away, give me a chance to run for the apartments, but the coin is a part of my hand—it isn’t going anywhere—then the coyotes fall on me—

The first coyote to go for my throat is thrown aside by a quicker, meaner alpha, who then lunges and takes hold of my neck in an instant, a grasp barbed in razor thorns that strangles mercilessly—the three others clamp onto my side, bringing me down to the ground—the pain is there, it is real, all of this, is very, very real, but shock has me in its watery grip—everything is water, the dark sky is the surface of a great night ocean, a surface I will never be able to swim to, not having the breath or the strength to even begin such a journey—the water is ever moving, like the water of my veins, freeing itself quickly forever, faster, a rush, a blast—

The coyotes scatter into the ebbing shadows—

My heart beats softly now, a feeble finger flicking the inside of my icy cage of bones—

A cruel form bends over me, head of a blood-crazed shark, body of a serpent and the arms of a powerful man—inside the hideous fish mouth, beyond the blood-stained triangle teeth, a pair of human lips move—“What were three are now one, and I am Fury—”

No chance to talk, my vocal cords torn from my throat—lie there and bleed, listen in terrified curiosity—

“You have a chance to stay my vengeance,” says the Fury—the smooth voice sounds hopeful—“Do you know the song—? The song my heart wants so badly to hear—?”

Vocal cords somehow collect themselves to animate and project sound: “No, no I do not—”

Scaly hands pry open my mouth, draw out my tongue— with ease, the Fury takes the coin, still gripped in my hand, and places it on my tongue—

Then the world shatters into drops of pain that pour out into nothing, and a man, out there in the nether black, cries with aching delight.

3

Herman couldn’t eat, but he was doing his damnedest not to let Janet and their friends Evan and Faye know that. The problem with spaghetti in a bowl was that spreading it out did little for the illusion of eating. Actually, the sauce had just the right sweetness, a hint of Cabernet Sauvignon, that Herman enjoyed with his pasta. Faye had done a great job on that and the garlic cheese bread. The food was great; it just wasn’t intended for Herman in this mode.

Until late last night and as soon as he’d awakened today, he’d thought often about the bottle and the man from the cave. The whole thing could have been a miracle, although Herman wasn’t satisfied entertaining that possibility, not even at arm’s length. In his state of mind of this past year, though crazy to consider, mental illness seemed more likely than miracles. Just like the good Italian dinner with good friends, he unfortunately could not savor sitting here with Lester. The dog wagged his white tipped black tail, begging for table scraps like his life depended on it. His life had depended on something else though—that bottle.

Herman diverted his thoughts across the table to his wife. She’d had too much wine tonight, had actually puked her guts out right before Evan and Faye showed up at the door. Now she was pretending everything was fine. This was how she’d always been with their friends. In group situations Janet always acted as though she were the strong one, but then when the group dissolved and they were left alone, she just went to pieces and it was Herman who had to sweep her up into the dustpan.

She might be making me go crazy
, he reflected solemnly. Can schizophrenia actually be acquired from emotional stress? The answer for all the magic he’d experienced in the desert could have been a colossal arrangement of hallucinations brought on by a crippled mind. Herman was trying to mend. He was trying to move on, but his wife would never let him.

Perhaps he’d found Lester out there, unharmed, if not frightened, and his mind created this wild scenario, which was one part nightmare and one part wish fulfillment. It didn’t help that he’d wanted so badly to share what had happened and all Janet had wanted to do was make them feel dirty. That’s all that was. It wasn’t about wanting or needing him. The sex provided another way to make her feel worthless.

Herman wanted no part of such self destruction. He’d just been so happy with the outcome with Lester that he buckled. It had been a mistake.

Now, staring at the hobbled woman in the pink blouse, black hair in messy ponytail, chipped nail tapping her teeth, he could think of no one he despised more. She was refusing not only to heal herself, but to let him get better, taking him down with this burning ship, perhaps causing him affliction.

“Food okay?” Evan’s voice was louder now as he repeated himself. Herman awkwardly shifted in his seat, wondering how many times his friend had asked.

“I had a big lunch,” he offered.

Evan half smiled and looked past his bifocals at the golden swirl of noodles on his fork. “Never thought I’d see you turn down food, He-Man.”

Janet picked up the bottle of Chianti to pour another glass.

“Can I have some more of that?” asked Faye.

Herman noticed Faye had cut her hair shorter, like Janet’s used to be, except the style made the diminutive woman look more of a pixie than ever.

Janet poured the rest of the wine into Faye’s glass. “I’ll get another bottle.”

“You still have half a glass,” Faye pointed out.

Janet’s eyes rested on the inch of red in her glass. She didn’t hide embarrassment well, so Herman often found himself always bailing her out.

Not anymore.

“It’s pretty good wine.” Janet took the daintiest sip of the evening.

Herman closed his eyes together tightly a moment; whether out of exhaustion or disgust, he couldn’t tell.

“Good
everything
,” said Evan, giving Faye a wink. “I can’t decide what I like best.”

Faye smiled lightly and went back to piling spaghetti onto her garlic bread and quickly transferring it to her mouth. Herman had never seen her eat so voraciously.

Evan chuckled. “You’ve all but given yourself away, honey.”

Faye stopped, garlic bread poised before her mouth. She snorted musically and shrugged.

“What?” Janet asked over her wine glass, looking faintly horrified.

“Well, I kinda missed my period.”

Herman’s throat went dry. “Kinda?”

“And the test was positive too.”

After a moment’s thought, Herman smiled and pushed himself out from the table. He went around to Faye and gave her a hug. Evan stood and they also embraced. “Congratulations man—you’re going to love it.”

“Thank you, buddy. Thanks.”

Janet bravely pulled herself up from her chair and gave Faye a limp hug, followed by a couple faint poundings of her wrist on Faye’s back. “I’m going to go get that bottle of wine now. To celebrate.”

Janet shuffled into the kitchen with a swiftness that betrayed her inebriation. Faye stood there, tableside, playing absently with a sauce stained cloth napkin.

“Do you want a cigar?” Evan asked Herman.

“Would love one.”

Evan took two plastic wrapped cigars from the leather jacket draped over the dining room chair they never used. Then he went to Faye and pecked her on the cheek. “We’ll be back in a bit, honey.”

Faye stood there like a castaway. “Take your time,” she said.

Many men, seasoned by marriage, would not take their time, but Herman knew that Evan could take all the time he wanted. Herman wasn’t envious or resentful about that. It was a different relationship. Janet actually didn’t grouse over Herman as much anymore because she had no drive for such things. Morbidly Herman missed their thunderous arguments of the past and considered again how insane he’d become in this last year without that passion, just as he stripped the plastic wrap off the Dominican cigar.

On the porch, in a trapezoid of light through the dining room window, the two men bit off the ends of their cigars. Evan had matches. It took a while to get both of the cigars properly lit, and once Herman took several puffs he decided the smoke just didn’t feel as relaxing as it once had. All he could think of was the ashtray mouth he would have tomorrow morning.

You’re a barrel of fun, aren’t you?

Lester scratched at the screen, his claws making zipping sounds. Herman turned and popped open the door. The Border Collie shot outside like a black and white bullet. He didn’t want to pee, just wanted to be outside with the guys. He circled around, grabbed his favorite toy rope in his jaws and threw it up in the air, lunged to catch it, then took off running to all sides of the yard.

The flavor of Herman’s cigar improved. His mouth hitched into a smile. It was a foreign feeling but not an unwelcome one.

“I’m so glad you found him,” said Evan, watching the dog in quiet admiration.

“Me too.”

“And with all the coyotes about now…”

Herman looked at his friend incredulously. How did he know?

Evan took a large draw on his cigar and the end went volcanic for a moment. When he blew out the smoke, he noticed Herman watching him. “What?”

“What about coyotes?”

“Oh you didn’t see the news?”

“We haven’t been watching it.” That was a lesson Herman imagined most grief-trapped parents had to learn the hard way. The local news was not something to fuck around with. It was in your best interest to stab at the channel-button as hard as you could if its grim reaper face ever filled your TV screen.

“Coyotes must be getting desperate for food. There was a pack that attacked and killed a college student last night.”

“No shit? Out in the foothills?”

“On campus,” Evan said through more smoke.

Herman paused. He so badly wanted to tell Evan his own coyote story. For a split second he contemplated laying it all out. Why not? If it was a hallucination, Evan would convince him and that would put his mind at ease.

Hell no. Nothing was putting Herman’s mind at ease. It was a stupid thing to even ask for at this point. Instead, he chickened out and commented, “Yeah, there are a lot of them out there.”

Evan nodded and they both stared out into the stretch of dark desert beyond the chain link fence, the body of a great unmoving and poisonous sea.

“Janet doesn’t look well there, He-Man. You don’t either. Maybe we should hit the gym this weekend, start moving those muscles again?”

“I’d like that,” Herman admitted, then examined the cigar in his hand. The head of it reminded him of an aerial photo of a vicious forest fire. “I don’t know… I’ve got both days on the grill and then work at the plant this weekend too.”

“Volunteer work,” Evan pointed out. “You should put your energy elsewhere.”

“I’ll get back to the gym.”

“That’s not all that I meant.”

Herman glared at him. He knew what his friend was getting at. Evan’s eyes were easily read behind his spectacles; the lenses did him a disservice, magnifying his intentions.

“Let’s enjoy your moment and leave the past where it belongs. If the cops gave up, then what chance do we have?”

“They didn’t give up,” Evan insisted. “It’s barely just a year now, hardly a cold case.”

Herman dismissed this. “That part of this whole thing was tearing us apart more than anything. It was a good choice to move on.”

“But you and Janet were focused then. You still need closure man. Really. Janet looks likes she’s dying in there and…”

“And what?”

Evan seemed caught between compassion and frustration. “And you’ve given up trying to save her.”

“Oh please.”

“Starting an independent investigation, hitting the streets to look for those guys, it might get Janet’s mind off the bottle.”

And mine as well?
thought Herman.

“I don’t mean to upset you,” Evan explained, smoke rolling over his short cropped brown hair. “But those jerks are still free to go on robbing banks and maybe hurting more people. Melody is gone and they’re still on this planet. That just isn’t right.”

Herman smiled. Even in this discussion, he loved to hear his daughter’s name. It almost brought him to tears sometimes. Joyful tears. It was calming to know that other people hadn’t forgotten her. Melody wasn’t gone completely.

“Finding them wouldn’t bring her back,” he added.

Evan turned to him now, his baby face thoughtful. “What would you do, if you found them?”