Jack could see the shimmering forms through his eyelids. The dancing shades of horror, twisting and turning over the hot sands and rock, like magic water over the dry creek bed. The heat was unbearable, and he thought of only water. A few hours earlier he had attempted to climb down the shallow ravine in hopes that the river bed might hold some moisture. Now he was here, exhausted and battered to the point of immobility, waiting for death. And death seemed to be unfolding in the distance like a cabaret dancer enthralled in a sensual dirge.
He could see them more clearly now, the shapes of shadows peeking back at him. They grew in number each minute, straining their necks at the human wreckage before them, jostling each other for a better view.
The whispering breeze.
The canyon walls began crawling with shades. The rock bands of tans and reds slowly morphing into darker hues of black as the crowd flowed into this sandstone theater. Jack could feel his heart quicken but could not move. He could feel the swirling commotion around him, gathering, intensifying, but was unable to respond. The shadows grew more agitated as they began to fight with each other.
Jack strained to push himself up but only managed to make it to his elbows. The shadows paused in their swirling to watch him. He gave a small grunt as he reached out with his right hand, grabbed some earth, and pulled himself forward a few inches. It took every ounce of energy he had in him. The sun had done its work . . . he was completely exhausted.
Wincing in pain, he threw his left hand out and tried to pull himself a bit more but could not. His body slumped and his consciousness hung by a thread. In a whirlwind of a thousand voices, the shadows’ laughs rushed down the canyon walls like water over a dam.
Then stillness. Nothingness.
“Hey, Jack.”
A cool air drifted over his body while stale air filled his nose, suffocating.
“You’re in a bit of a pinch, aren’t you? Miles away from nowhere.”
Jack lay without movement. He was too tired and too scared to move, as if playing dead would keep the bear from devouring him. He could feel a presence kneeling next to him. Then he was being shoved, rolled onto his side. His eyes fluttered open.
The man from the cabin. The midnight visitor.
“Don’t feel like talking much, huh? That’s okay by me. You don’t seem like the kind of guy that had anything of substance to share anyway.” The man stood and stretched his back. “What are you doing out here?”
“J-j-just . . . want to g-get home.”
“Naw, you don’t want that.” Seth’s face twisted into a sneer. “That’s what y’all say. I want to go home. You’re out here for a reason. You just haven’t figured it out yet.”
Jack forced his eyelids to stay open a sliver, just enough to see him. Seth was visibly becoming bored with the conversation as he walked a couple steps and sat down on a rock.
“I’ve been out here a long time, Jack. I’ve seen plenty of people just like you. What? You think you’re unique. Huh? Yeah, I guess you all do. You ain’t nothing, Jack. Nothing. You all come running from something, something bigger than you, and then you come out here and think you are bigger than you are. Yeah, that must be it. You think you’re something bigger than you are.
“Probably think the world spins around you, don’t you, Jack? Think you’re at the center of everybody’s mind. When you going to get it, Jack? You ain’t nothing. Ain’t even worth me coming out here messing with you. Almost a waste of my time.”
Jack closed his eyes and gripped the ground.
Scared.
Anticipating something but not knowing what.
Intimidated. He knew the man could take a rock and smash his head, and he had not the strength or courage to even lift his hands to ward off the blow. He was five years old, hiding under the blanket from the boogeyman.
Fear is the acute sensation of hope leaving the body.
“There was a guy much like you awhile back. Came out here mountain climbing, though the fool knew nothing about no climbing. Arrogant. You know what that fool done? Fell and broke his back. Stuck up there in the rock and nobody knew he was there. Just sat there for days blinking up at the sky, spitting his own blood out of his mouth. How do you think he felt then, Jack? Probably pretty small, huh?
“Yeah, ain’t had much fun when we found him though. Ain’t much fun when they got no hope left, when they beg you to end it all right quick. Can’t find no joy in that.” The man drifted off into a sick remembrance, then jumped back with a laugh.
“Hey, Jack, what you think went through his mind when that rope snapped? I’ll tell you what probably happened. Fool got stuck up in a tight spot. Dangled there for a while. Too scared to go up higher, more than likely . . . didn’t know enough how to get back down. Probably got hungry, night coming on. Bats start flying around his head. Maybe hitting his legs. Wind pick up and get up under his skin. He lost hope real quick, more than likely. Thought he could cut that rope and end it real fast. Probably reached down into his boot, grabbed the knife that was on him, put it up over his head, and cut that line.”
Seth’s gaze drifted off as if he was seeing the memory play out before him on a distant screen. He soon snapped back to the present and looked down at Jack. “Problem is, fool wasn’t high enough to kill himself. Only broke his back. Came near to folding in half. Yeah, can’t have too much fun when that is all you’re given.”
The hot sand filled Jack’s nostrils as he remained motionless on the ground. He thought if he kept his eyes shut, the man would leave, disappear, stop existing.
“So what say you, Jack? You just going to lie there and play dead or are you going to give us something to work with?”
“I haven’t done anything to you,” Jack whispered, but the sound was further muted by the rock his face was half buried in.
“What’s that?”
“I haven’t done anything to you.”
“Haven’t done anything to me? Come on, Jack, didn’t I say this ain’t about you? Get that through your mind . . . this ain’t about you! You’re nothing.”
“I’m not going to fight you.”
“You have to have a little bit of spine in you. Something inside that thinks you might get out of this. Something that you’re clinging to.”
Silence. The man spit and the dry earth hissed.
“Pathetic. You really got nothing, huh. What about that sweet thing you drove in here with. I bet she’d put up a good fight . . . unless of course she pegged her hopes on you. If she did, she’d probably beg me to end it right quick too.”
Laura. Jack’s thoughts returned to her, mixed with the horror story relayed to them by Molly. Was this the man who kidnapped her? Had kept her hidden away and came within minutes of strangling her? Jack’s rage began to build as he thought about Laura in that situation. He could feel blood flowing through his limbs, his adrenaline began pumping.
“Ahhh . . . so she does mean something to you,” the man said as he stood up and looked around. “So where is she, huh? Did she fall down this canyon wall too?”
He walked around, peeking behind the rock he was just sitting on.
“No . . . she’s not here is she? You left her. You left her behind.”
Realization dawned on the man.
“She’s back at Boots’s place, ain’t she? Wow, Jack, that’s something. I can’t say I’ve seen that happen before.”
Jack could feel something move, subtle, as if an invisible hand began pushing the watching shades back up the ridge and sweeping them away. He looked up at the man, whose gaze was fixed on the western sky.
“Got to be moving on, Jack. You’re not worth my time. But thanks for the news about your woman.” He bent down and patted Jack on the head like he would a dog. “Yeah, I think that might be the best news I heard in awhile.”
Jack could hear the man’s footsteps wander off as he was left alone on the valley floor.