The Secret of the Dark (16 page)

“No, Mrs. B. I'm not going to sit here and hold you all evening. But I hope you'll want to stay inside all night.”

I was at the bottom of the stairs when I saw the closed bathroom door. We usually left it open but that didn't mean anything. Fleecy could have closed it. I stared at it for a minute. I had two choices. Leave here some way and go back to town. Or open the door and prove that my imagination had run away to think whoever had turned on the tape would hide in the house.

Quickly, before I could think any longer, I reached for the knob, unlatched the door, kicked it open, staying ready to run. No one. I felt limp as the fear drained out of me.

Talking to Mrs. B. about how silly I was, I immediately locked the front door and sat down at the piano to play the loudest piece I knew.

The playing soothed me and took away some of my anxiety. I switched to a quieter piece. About seven o'clock I decided popcorn and cheese would be plenty of supper after my big lunch.

I had made a heaping bowl of hot popcorn, melted butter on it the way I like, and had carried it to the living room when the phone rang. It could be Neal making plans for tomorrow. It could be someone asking about Granny, or even the doctor. She'd gotten worse. There was a third possibility. I sat through six rings before I carefully lifted the receiver and said, “Hello.”

“Valerie. Is anything wrong? I was just going to give up.”

“Dad! Where are you? I'm so glad to hear your voice.”

“We're home. How are things going? How is Granny? Have you survived?”

I told him about Granny right away, but assured him that she was all right and was coming home tomorrow. Then we talked about my summer. “Are you really coming out? I can hardly wait to see you. When can you come?”

Dad laughed at my bombarding him with questions, but I was so relieved that the call was from him.

“We'll come out as soon as possible. We need to take a breath before we start the final work on the book. I'll get back to you as soon as we get reservations. Rue sends her love to both of you.”

I felt good enough to sleep, feeling safe now with the door locked and Mrs. Butterworth curled up under my arm. Plus the idea that my dad and Rue would be here soon. I could tell them all the things that had happened and we'd see if we could figure out what was going on. Dad would know what to do. He always did.

Neal called the next morning while I ate some cereal and we made plans to pick up Granny that afternoon. Granny was in a mumbling, grumbling mood, which I took as good. She was eager to get out of “that place” where she had been poked and prodded and no one had let her sleep.

Without being obvious, I had Neal come in with me and Granny, and I checked the house for anything strange or out of place. Then I walked him to the stairs.

“I know Granny just got back, but I can take tomorrow off, Valerie. I think I can get a recording I want. Go with me.”

“Okay, I'll call Fleecy. I know she's anxious to see Granny since she didn't get to visit at the hospital. I'm sure she'll come over if we don't stay long.”

I was so glad to have Granny back I made all her favorite things: cornbread, fried potatoes, pork chops, and the buttermilk she loved. I hummed and even sang one of the old songs while I fixed supper. Granny didn't miss much and finally said, “You seem happy, child.”

We talked of Dad and Rue's visit and Granny seemed pleased they were coming. But while I cleaned up the kitchen, I noticed that her mind drifted off. She was probably tired. I was going to suggest going to bed when she said, “Don't go, child.”

Go? “Oh, Granny. I'm not going home with Dad and Rue. They're coming to visit. I'm going to stay all summer with you and then we'll have a plan. We won't leave you alone again.”

“I don't want you to go.”

“Don't worry, Granny. You're just tired.” I helped her change into her nightgown. The broken arm was going to be a nuisance. “Can you sleep on your back, Granny?” I put one pillow under her cast to make her comfortable.

“I'm afraid of the dark.” Granny's eyes looked far away.

“Granny, I don't know how you got shut in that root cellar, but I promise it won't happen again.”

Was she reliving what had happened? It seemed to frighten her all over again. She clutched my arm. “The dark, child. Beware of the dark.” Was there a superstition about darkness? Granny's insecurity frightened me, but I understood that she'd had a bad week. I tried to soothe her, and even sat holding her hand for a few minutes like I would a child who didn't want to go to bed, didn't want me to turn off the light.

By the time she seemed asleep and I could leave her, I found that I was tired too. All the strain of the last few days was catching up.

Morning brought a return of my energy. I cleaned the cabin from top to bottom and still felt like running outside and shouting. Was I that excited about Neal and our afternoon trip? I guess I was, because when Fleecy came with a message that he was going to be late, I felt disappointed.

“Why didn't he call?”

“Line was busy for an hour he said.”

Fleecy and Granny had lots of catching up to do and I soon tired of their talk. I gathered my notebook, my tape recorder, dumped some tissues and lip gloss from my tote into my backpack, and went outside. I tore a sheet from my notebook and scribbled a note for Neal.
Yell for me or come up the trail. I'm on the big rock
—
need some thinking time
.

I sat in the shade and leaned against the big rock, facing the cabin. Although I couldn't see the front door, I could see Neal if he came to the side and called.

My thinking centered on Neal and Rick, and I realized that while I still liked Rick, my feelings for Neal were growing stronger and stronger. I wondered how it felt to be in love. I knew I wanted to be with Neal as much as possible, and just seeing him or anticipating seeing him after we'd been apart made me excited.

Despite what he'd said, Neal was a caring person and it showed in all he did. He had been so gentle and kind to Granny yesterday when we brought her home. I couldn't see Rick doing the same thing. Rick seemed more selfish. He liked me, but more as a person to tease, to take from. He treated me like a thing — a toy. I couldn't believe he was very sincere.

I had written Pam about each boy, describing them in detail. I decided to start a letter to her, putting down my feelings about each one now. She'd have an opinion. She always did.

I had one ear tuned for Neal's call, but got absorbed in the writing. Suddenly something covered my head and face, smothering me.

I fought and struggled. Strong arms tried to hold on to me. I yelled but my voice was muffled by scratchy material.

I felt a sharp blow to my head. The world exploded, filling my brain with a powerful roar. Then I slipped into darkness, total, suffocating darkness.

CHAPTER

17

I
WOKE
to a clammy dampness, my head throbbing. Where was I? My eyes were open. I knew they were, but it was dark, so dark. I knew I had been unconscious. For how long? Was it night? I felt for the path, the rock. My pack was still on my back, the waist strap cutting into my chest.

The rock, the ground under me, was cold. Then it came to me. I was not outside. I didn't know what time it was, but this darkness didn't come from night. I was underground. In a cave! Rocks all around me overhead.

Please, please, let this be a nightmare. Let me wake up now. Wake up to sunshine
—
bright daylight
. I grabbed a handful of gravel and squeezed till the rocks cut into my hand. Huddling in as small a heap as I could, I tried to warm myself. I rubbed my arms, my legs, brushed tears from my cheeks. This was no dream. It was real. Who had brought me here? Why? How long ago? Unanswerable questions. All I really knew was that I didn't want to be here.

Then I was afraid to move. I sat, listening. Only an occasional drip of water filled the silence. Was this Rick's cave? Some other? “The Ozarks are riddled with caves.” Neal's statement came to me.

Soon the only thing worse than moving was sitting, feeling totally helpless. If I was in Rick's cave, and never mind how I got there, I might find something that I remembered. Then I could search my mind for the trail we walked.

If only I had some light, any light. Grabbing off my backpack, my fingers dug inside the cloth. I felt the familiar articles, the tube of lip gloss, a pencil, my tape recorder, a stick of gum. I don't know why I bothered. I never carried matches. I didn't smoke. None of my friends smoked. I guess it was a desperate wish that sometime, somehow, someone had put matches in my pack. I'd find them and be pleasantly surprised.

I fought my fear. I must concentrate only on finding some way out. Running my hand along the wall I found it smooth, satiny. Flowstone? If I continued keeping the wall on my right, I could move forward and go in one direction.

And so I traveled, cautiously, inch by inch. I was afraid even to stand up, wanting as much of my body in touch with solid rock for the security it offered. Even though rocks cut into my bare legs, and I knew my progress was so tedious that it would take me hours to reach the outside, this was the only way I could persuade myself to move.

The darkness became a presence, pressing down on me, scrambling my mind so that at times I questioned up or down. My hand clasped empty space, and I clawed for the wall, then found the base of a small stalagmite. There was one, two, five of them, and again solid wall. I scooted my bottom forward, the scrape of my shorts loud to my ears, making my head throb with every movement.

I became desperately thirsty. The stick of gum. It would help. I unwrapped it carefully; the minty smell seemed out of place here. TV ads of the Doublemint twins shouting, laughing, splashing in ocean waves, flashed through my mind, and I fought to concentrate on what was real, what was now.

Get up and walk
, I spoke harshly to myself.
You can't crawl all the way back to the entrance of this cave
. So I struggled to my feet, feeling stiff and sore. Now I flattened myself to the cave wall and again took tiny shuffling steps sideways and forward.

I gasped and held back a scream. My hand had grasped nothingness. My foot slipped into air. Quickly I hugged the icy wall. I gathered a small handful of gravel and tossed it ahead of me, where there should have been a trail.

I suppose the time it took for the rocks to fall was short, but in my mind it was forever. Finally the tiny splattering sound echoed up to me. The pit. Dear God. I was sprawled on the edge of the drop-off, the bottomless pit.

A scream rose up from my chest into my throat, choking me, trying to escape. Up, up, up, until, like a thing alive it spilled from my lips and echoed shrilly off the cave wall. I fought the panic that followed the burst of energy the scream precipitated. If I allowed myself to run, to move forward at all, I would join the spray of pebbles, falling, falling, falling to a destination unknown, yet fatal.

I huddled there miserably, my scream disintegrating into sobs, heaving from inside till my chest throbbed almost as badly as my head.

The voice from the darkness was almost as frightening as the void beside me. “No one will hear you, Valerie. But cry if it makes you feel any better.”

“Rick!” I screamed his name. “Rick, thank God you've come. Help me. Help me get out of here.”

“I'm sorry, Val. I can't do that. My daddy would be mad. And I try not to make him mad at me.”

I had to take several breaths, swallow, and even then I didn't believe him. “You're not going to help me?”

He turned his light on me. It blinded me for a moment. Then all I could see were shadows dancing over the cave walls. His shadow loomed, monster large from behind the lamp on his head.

“Rick, stop teasing me. You're not scaring me anymore. See, I've calmed down.” I pushed myself back from the drop-off and stood. My legs felt wobbly, but I wasn't going to let him see my weakness.

I got my bearings then. I was on the other side of the pit. Rick was on the side that led out, to the squeeze, the tourist cave. I was on the side with no way out

“Hold the light so I can see better, Rick. I'll walk across to you.”

He turned his light toward the big room. The crossing was thrown back into the total darkness.

“Rick!” I forced my voice to level out, and, for whatever good it might do, I had one other idea. Carefully, quietly, I knelt and slipped the recorder from my pack. I nestled it onto the top of the cloth so it was stable, and, feeling, I counted three buttons and pushed record. Then I asked some questions I hoped Rick would answer.

“How did I get here, Rick? You brought me here, didn't you?”

“I'm sorry Daddy had to hit you, Val. You were going to get loose. I liked you. I really did. If Granny hadn't been so stubborn, it wouldn't have come to this. We could have kept being friends.”

“What do you mean, Granny being stubborn? About what?”

“And with LaRue coming, we had to hurry. Daddy can get Granny to sign now, before LaRue gets here. No one will know what happened to you. Maybe they'll look, but they'll never find you.”

“How do you know that I won't get out?”

“You can try. You've got a lot of guts, Val. I like that. There's even a way out from that side. I wanted to show it to you the last time we were here, but I knew it'd make my daddy mad. I found it first. Took me years, so you might have a little trouble.”

He laughed then, and the laugh no longer seemed attractive. It didn't tease me like a devilish boy might do, but it threatened and made me realize he really didn't care what happened to me.

But I kept trying. “Why did you come back, Rick?”

“I guess I was curious. I wanted to see how you liked our little joke.”

“This is no joke, Rick. You won't get away with this, even if I don't get back. Whatever your plan is, it'll be found out. Whatever you're trying to get from Granny — it won't work. What is it you're trying to get Granny to sign?”