SAFELY BURIED Chapter 30: In the Dark

Despite the steady breeze, I began to sweat. The cool air fanned the back of my head but did not make the sweating stop. I thought I felt the first tickle of a sore throat. I swallowed it away and rolled on my other side so the wind could blow in my face.

It became harder to breathe. I couldn’t complete a deep breath. I opened my mouth in the crazy hope that the wind would blow into my lungs. I felt myself dozing off again, but the thought that I might stop breathing in my sleep kept me awake.

I lost track of time. How long had I been here? An hour? Two hours? Maybe I actually had fallen asleep. The darkness seemed palpable. It covered me like a rug. It crawled over me like an enormous centipede. Hundreds of centipedes were crawling into the cavern. . . .

On the edge of delirium, I remembered the opening at the far end of the cavern. Why hadn’t I thought of it sooner? If I could get there, I might be able to find a place to rub through the rope and get loose. There must be another way out. I could follow the wind to its source. I had been wasting time. Suddenly I was in a panic to get in the wind tunnel before the Boofey gang came back. I squirmed like a lizard into the wind.

Because my legs were bent behind me and tied to the rope that was lashed around my arms, I could roll only one way. So I rolled myself 180 degrees in the direction I wanted to go, and then I squirmed on my side until the wind was in my face again and I could repeat the process. It was slow work, and I had no idea how far I was from the end of the cavern. I rolled and twisted again and again, always hoping my next roll would get me there.

The lights came on. I happened to be facing the plastic curtain, and the sudden brightness blinded me. When I shut my eyes, I saw nothing but crimson. I rolled away from the lights. My heart sank when I saw how close I was to the opening. My face was nearly inside the tunnel. I kept squirming.

Someone entered the cavern and came walking toward me. I could not see who it was, but when nothing was said right away, I expected the worst. I rejoiced at the sound of Paula’s voice: “You’re lucky Walter and Caroline didn’t catch you.”

“Paula! Thank God. Help me get loose.”

“I brought you something to eat.”

“I don’t want to eat. I want to get out of here.”

“Sorry, Phil. You can’t go yet.”

“If I don’t get out of here, I’m dead.”

She came around and stared down at me. She held a small green plate in her hand. “Try not to worry. They won’t hurt you.”

“Yeah, sure. How you gonna stop them?”

“They’re just nervous. They act cool, but they’re in this thing over their heads and they’re scared. So am I.”

“They’re crazy, Paula. Why do they need to kill me over a bunch of dead marijuana?”

She tightened her lips and said, “Here, Phil. I fixed you a ham sandwich. I’ll help you with it.”

She knelt beside me and held a pointed end of half the sandwich in front of my mouth. I caught a whiff of cheap perfume. It made me feel sorry for her, but I hardened my heart. “For Christ’s sake, Paula, I’m not in the mood for a sandwich.”

“It’s all I got.” She sat back on her haunches and gazed a me. “You shoulda never came back here. What are you doing here anyway?”

“Looking for you and your mother. Trying to find out what the hell is going on. Trying to figure out why your friends were murdered.”

“I’m sorry you stopped and picked me up that night. I got you in a world of trouble.”

“If you’re sorry, then untie the rope.”

She just looked at me.

“Okay,” I said, “if you won’t untie me, I’ll get back to work.” I began inching toward the mouth of the tunnel again.

“Uh-uh.” She set the plate with the sandwich on the ground and stood up. Her scuffed Keds were inches from my chin. The bottoms of her jeans were thready. She wore a plain white T-shirt under an unbuttoned flannel shirt. “I can’t let you leave, Phil.” She grabbed the rope that was wound around my ankles and dragged me about ten feet away from the wall.

I said, “Thanks a lot, Paula. You’re not being real good to me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“That’s nice to know.”

“Do you want your sandwich or not?”

“Give it to Walter. Stuff it down his throat.”

“If you’re going to act like that, I guess I’ll go back upstairs.”

“Oh, sorry if I’m acting rude. Maybe if I had some feeling left in my arms and legs, I could be more sociable.”

“Does it hurt bad?” She knelt again and began rubbing my arm. I felt like mouthing off, but instead I let her rub. “Does that help?” she said.

“No.”

She rubbed harder.

After a minute or so I said, “Paula, what did you get yourself into here? What’s going on? Were Walter and the Garths in business together? Were they selling drugs?”

She stopped massaging and sat back. I saw the struggle in her eyes. “It ain’t about drugs,” she said. “It’s got nothing to do with drugs.”

“Those aren’t dead roses over there.”

“You don’t know a thing about it.” She gazed at the long plastic curtain. It looked like a gigantic oxygen tent. “Wayne and Cheryl grew a little for themselves, that’s all.”

“It was more than a little.”

“They let their friends have some too, free. They gave me some the last time I saw them.”

“They didn’t want to make any money. They just loved to grow pot.”

“They wasn’t dealers.”

“Maybe your uncle was paying them to grow it? Maybe that’s how they paid their rent.”

“No. You think you know everything, but you don’t.”

“Then talk to me. What don’t I know?”

“None of your business.”

“It is my business. I’m smack in the middle of it.” I did not let up on her: “What was your job, Paula? Hauling the stuff up to Indianapolis. What’d you do, carry it in your cast?”

“You don’t need to make fun of me,” she said.

I felt like an idiot lying on the ground, roped up, arguing with her. “Just tell me what’s going on,” I said. “What have you got to lose? I can’t hurt you. I can’t go to the cops.”

“You can’t now, but later you could.”

“Yeah, if I’m still alive.”

Her lips tightened to a thin line. Her gray eyes wavered. “You ain’t gonna die,” she said.

The arm and shoulder I was lying on hurt, so I began to roll over. She pushed me onto my other side, which meant now she was behind me. When I flexed the sore shoulder, she began kneading it with both hands. I stared at a series of smooth steplike ripples that rose past my nose.

“What’s the deal, Paula?” I asked again. “Do you know why Wayne and Cheryl were killed? Did they double-cross your uncle?”

She hammered my leg with the bottom of her fist. “No!”

“Who did it then? Do you have any idea?”

“The more you know, the more trouble you’re in, so just shut up.”

“So you do know who did it.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Tell me what you know. What difference does it make? Caroline’s going to make Walter blow my head off anyway. I’ll take the secret to my grave.”

She exhaled with a long sigh. Her breath fell on my hair. I thought she was about to relent, but she merely stood up and stepped over me. “I’ve gotta go,” she said. “The sandwich is there if you want it.”

“Don’t go,” I said.

“I got to. They’ll be back soon.”

“Where’d they go?”

She gave me a little sarcastic laugh. “You never stop with the questions, do you?”

“Did they have an appointment with their psychiatrist?”

“Uh-oh, I better block off that opening before I go.”

She went through the sheets of plastic, and I watched her ghostly image moving back and forth as she searched for something to put in front of the hole I had tried to reach. She came out empty-handed and said, “I’m sorry I gotta do this to you. ”She gripped the rope with both hands and dragged me on my side toward the entrance of the cavern. I jawboned her during the entire trip. Then she retrieved the sandwich and laid it next to my face again.

“I’ll be down later,” she said.

“Wait. If you know who murdered Wayne and Cheryl, tell me.”

“See you later, Phil.”

“Don’t turn the lights off.” It was both a demand and a plea.

She thought a moment and went behind the curtain again. She used a folded rag to loosen all but one of the hot bulbs.

“Thanks,” I said as she came out.

She touched me on the shoulder and said, “I’ll be back.”

As soon as she was gone, I began twisting and turning and craning my neck to find some kind of sharp edge to fray the rope. If I could make it to the clay pots, I could smash one and maybe get a sharp piece. But what good would it do? My hands were useless. I went back to Plan A and started squirming and rolling toward the arched opening again. Call me Sisyphus, I said to myself. I worked at it for a good half hour, and then Paula returned, this time with Boofey.

“What happened to the lights?” he asked her.

“He shouldn’t have to lay in the dark,” Paula said.

“No lights. I don’t want him gettin’ loose.”

“He can’t get loose,” Paula said. “Why are we torturing him?”

“We ain’t torturin’ him. He’s tied up is all.” He went through the plastic and screwed the bulbs back in.

Paula picked up the plate and uneaten sandwich and hid it behind a box.

When Boofey came back, he said, “I wish I could chain him to the wall.”

“I said, “Too bad you don’t have an iron maiden and a rack.”

“Shut up, funny boy.”

“I need to use the bathroom.”

“Hold it in or wet yourself.”

“Jesus, Walt,” Paula said.

“All right. He can piss in the bucket, but you gotta get rid of it.”

“Thanks a lot.”

Boofey pulled my—or rather Edward’s—.45 out of his back pocket and told Paula to untie me. He didn’t need the gun. My arms and legs were so stiff and sore that I could hardly move them, much less try to escape. He used the gun to prod me through the plastic, where I got to pee in a rusty bucket. As soon as I zipped up, he put me in a headlock and swung me to the ground. My legs felt like wet noodles, and I went down easily. He sat on me again and began lashing my arms together, just like before.

While I was on my face, I noticed a string of large rocks that had been cleared to the side of the cavern. Some of them were broken and appeared to have fairly sharp edges. I filed the information for later use.

When Boofey was done hog-tying me, he dragged me out through the curtain. Along the way I said, “Hey there, Walt, why’d you kill Wayne and Cheryl?”

“Shut up, Phil!” Paula yelled. “Keep your trap shut!”

Boofey said, “You know something, Paula, I’m beginning to see why you like this guy. He’s got spunk. He’s an asshole, but he’s got spunk. I don’t like his manners though.” With that, he flung my head and shoulders on the ground and drove his shoe into my ribs.

“You can blame yourself for that, Phil,” Paula said.

Boofey chuckled. “I think he likes it.”

Despite the pain, I gritted my teeth and said, “Yeah, it feels good. Want me to show you how it feels?”

“See what I mean.” He kicked me again.

Paula turned away and left the cavern. Maybe she thought I wouldn’t shoot off my mouth if she wasn’t there. Or maybe she didn’t want to see Uncle Walter work me over anymore.

“Anything else you want to say?” Boofey asked me.

For once I took Paula’s advice and shut up. My ribs had taken enough. I pictured a dented fender, a kicked-in birdcage.

“I think you’re learning,” Boofey said.

He waited a moment to see if I had another comeback for him. Then he followed Paula into the tunnel.

I stared at the rocks behind the plastic curtain. A couple minutes later the lights went out.