Wasteland Blues (14 page)

Might?
thought Leggy.

“My poor daddy died and never once saw his prize in action,” continued Youslus, “and here I was beginning to think the same might happen to me. Yet now, you fellas drop in outta the sky.”

He pointed to Leggy.

“You can fix the motor. And Teddy here can operate the hammer. It will be fantastic! Absolutely fantastic. We’ll crack that bunker wide open. Do you hear? Open!” The word echoed off the canyon walls.

Then Leggy asked, “And what if I can’t get this motor to work? Then what?”

Youslus shrugged. “Well, we’ll just have to dig without it. The old fashioned way, or maybe it’s the
new
fashioned way, with pickaxe and shovel until we get inside. Or until we die tryin’.”

Chapter Seventeen

Leggy tinkered with the motor all throughout the morning. Youslus had brought a tool kit and a crate of spare parts that may or may not have belonged to the motor. Then he crouched down on his haunches, just out of reach of his prisoners, the shotgun straddled across his knees, and watched Leggy work.

Teddy worked with a pickaxe down in the pit. Steady, ringing blows echoed throughout the canyon. Derek and John sat against the cliff wall, husbanding their strength. The cliff faced east, and the bright sun stared them in the face as it rose through the morning sky. By noon the sun stood directly over their heads, baking their skulls. They were parched with thirst, tongues thick and swollen in their dry mouths, heads pounding.

Finally, Derek spoke. “Water,” he said. “You got to get us some water. Especially Teddy. He’s been workin’ all morning.”

Youslus looked up and blinked, as if he’d forgotten about everything but the motor. Now he shook his head as if waking from a daydream, noting the position of the sun in the sky.

“Lordy, lunch time already?” He stood up, stretched his legs, and strode into his cave. He returned a few moments later with an armful of food tins, which he tossed to his prisoners.

“What about Teddy?” asked Derek.

“Don’t worry—I’ll take care of him next,” said Youslus.

As the prisoners were tearing into their meals, Youslus returned again with a bucket and a dipper. He put them down near Leggy, and stood back again.

“Go ahead and drink up. This one gets first dibs,” he said, pointing to Leggy. “He’s the one doin’ all the work. He and the big fella. For the rest of us, it’s a little holiday, right fellas?” He smiled at John and Derek. “Lazy day off! Ooh, Daddy would be maaa-aaad!”

“Sure,” said Derek. “A fuckin’ holiday. You’re crazier than a two-headed baby.”

Youslus said nothing. He merely squatted down to watch Leggy get back to work.

***

Throughout that day, and the next, and the one after that, Leggy had come across a slew of problems with the Stone Biter—loose wires, misaligned rotors, corroded gears, and the like. He’d done his best to remedy or work around problems, but still the motor refused to start. Youlus urged him to persevere.

It wasn’t until late afternoon of the fourth day that Leggy shouted, “Aha!” and removed a frayed belt from deep within the guts of the motor. He showed it to Youslus, who practically beamed.

“Very good,” said the old man, his forearm muscles pulsing as he opened and closed his hands with excitement.

“Maybe, and maybe not,” said Leggy. “If you don’t have another one of these somewhere, it ain’t gonna run.”

Youslus motioned to the crate. “Look in there. It’s gotta be in there. It must!”

Leggy heaved himself over to the box, convinced there wouldn’t be a spare belt. As he pawed through an assortment of parts, he wondered if Youslus would blow them all to Hell if the motor couldn’t be fixed.

Impatiently, Youslus snatched up the box and dumped it out. Nuts, screws, washers, bits of wire, and other detritus clanked to the ground. Several bolts rolled away. Youslus searched through the pile, then shrieked.

“This is it, this is it!” He held up a small gray belt, no larger than a rubber band, and thrust it under Leggy’s nose. “This is it, yes?”

Leggy compared the damaged belt with the replacement. They looked similar, so he nodded. “Yup, that’s it. Or close enough that I can maybe make it work.”

Youslus kicked away the other bits and scraps of metal to give Leggy a clear space to work. “Well, put it back together then,” he shouted. “Plenty of daylight left. Oh yes, plenty.”

***

By dusk the motor was reassembled. As Leggy reattached the last screw on the metal housing, Youslus dashed away. He returned with a large red can with a handle and long spout.

“Gasoline?” croaked John, his throat parched with thirst.

“That’s right, boys. It’s go-juice for Stone Biter.”

Youslus poured gas into the tank then hunted around the generator until he found the start button. “You know how many years I’ve dreamed of this?” he asked them. “How many times I’ve pushed this here button, just wishin’ to hear something—anything?”

“Now here we go!” He stabbed the start button with an eager finger. The motor shook. Inside the housing, moving parts began to stir. The motor backfired several times, and then suddenly barked into furious, roaring life.

They covered their ears against the noise—everyone but Youslus, who grinned so wide it seemed the top of his head might come off.

Teddy came up from the pit, face coated in blood, sweat and dust. Through a series of wild hand gestures, Youslus ordered Teddy to carry the Stone Biter to the pit. The mad hermit then followed along behind, pushing the generator. Soon they were lost to view behind the mountain of gravel that Youslus and his father had built up over the decades.

Although they couldn’t see, the prisoners didn’t need to. Sounds told them everything that was going on. The motor continued to roar, but then a loud clattering erupted from the hole that made them all jump. It sounded like God Himself pounding on a mile-high door. It was the hammer. The noise rang out intermittently at first, and then grew more regular and sustained, presumably as Teddy grew more accustomed to the hammer’s operation.

By now darkness was falling rapidly. Several stars peppered the night sky, and the moths were beginning to stir. Leggy expected the hammering to stop as the light faded, but Youslus had other plans. He went to his cave-house and returned with the lantern that had lit their dinner what seemed like years before. He placed it on the lip of the excavation pit nearest to where Teddy was working.

“I believe he means to have Teddy hammer all night,” said Leggy, noting the appearance of the lantern.

“Is he lookin’ over here?” asked Derek.

“No,” said Leggy. “Least I don’t think so.”

“Good,” said Derek. “You tell me if he comes over this way.”

***

John turned to see what Derek was up to. He had taken a ring tab from a food can and inserted it into the locking mechanism of the cuff around his ankle. He twisted and jiggled without result.

John watched carefully for Youslus to reappear, but after what seemed like hours of staring into the dark, his concentration faded. His head ached from the relentless noise of the hammer, and hunger and thirst began to plague him again. They’d had no food nor water since breakfast.

As night fell, his eyes were drawn back to the moth creatures that Youslus kept as pets. They were fully awake now and fluttering up toward the moon, which had risen full and round above them, their progress hindered by the cruel hooks and lengths of rope that bound them to the insane man’s canyon. John felt foolish. He’d wanted to set them free, but now he needed saving just as badly as they did.

As he watched the moths’ stunted arabesques, his mind wandered back to the cool green of the plateau from which the travelers had descended nearly a week ago and to Magdalena. A deep regret sat on his heart, and he felt his soul fluttering out toward her, yearning and straining against its own bonds. Perhaps, if and when they got out of this, he might just turn and head back into the mountains, forsake the Wasteland and his friends to find her.

Hours later the banshee howl of the generator finally cut out, along with the awful pounding of the hammer. Silence descended like a thunder clap, causing Derek to look up from his failed attempts to jimmy open his ankle clamp. Immediately he slipped his crude lockpick into his sleeve.

A few minutes later Youslus appeared, lantern in one hand, shotgun in the other. Behind him came Teddy, staggering with exhaustion. Derek’s brother was covered in a thick layer of dust and grime. He sat down heavily and looked at the ground, too tired to even raise his head.

“Is it open?” asked Leggy.

“No, no, not yet,” said Youslus. “But Teddy here did a good day’s work. A damn good day’s work. He’s earned himself a bit of rest. I’ll be back in a minute with some food and water.” He patted the giant on the head.

Teddy had fallen asleep by the time Youslus returned. The old man nudged him with his foot, but Teddy didn’t stir. Youslus shrugged and left several tins on the ground, then disappeared back to his house.

The prisoners did their best to get themselves comfortable. The canyon wall, which baked like an oven in the sun, had gradually given up its heat as night fell, and was hard and cold now. The companions had to huddle together for warmth. Teddy, who had collapsed out of their reach, was so deeply asleep that even the chill of the night didn’t rouse him.

In the dark silence, Leggy, Derek, and John discussed their predicament, and how they might get out of it. It was clear that Youslus meant to keep them here until he got inside the bunker, which by every indication wouldn’t be any time soon. How long could Teddy stand being driven like this?

“How you comin’ on that lock?” Leggy whispered to Derek.

“I’m not,” said Derek. “I been at it for a long time with nothin’ to show for it.”

“So what are we gonna do?” asked John.

“Keep at it, I guess,” Leggy said. “Maybe we should all take a crack at it. That son of bitch has been pretty careless about leaving those tins around. We got enough lids for each of us. Maybe my lock or John’s is more pickable….”

“Not likely,” said Derek.

“Well, what else are we gonna do?”

“Pray,” said John.

“Shit. Maybe I will,” Leggy sighed.

Before they drifted into sleep, they noticed that spasms occasionally wracked Teddy’s body, his large frame jerking as the muscles in his arms, chest, and back quivered arhythmically.

“Why’s he doin’ that?” asked Derek.

“Not sure,” said Leggy, “but I’ll bet it’s from that goddamned hammer. Vibrations and such, messin’ with his nerves.”

Derek turned his face to the canyon wall. “I promise you right now,” he said darkly, “if we get outta this, I’m gonna make that bunker into the old man’s tomb.”

***

The next day was much like the previous. Youslus appeared just after dawn, eager to tackle the pit. This time, however, Teddy was harder to rouse. He didn’t respond to prodding, shouts, or even kicks. Finally Youslus threw a bucket of cold water over the boy. Teddy sat up suddenly, violently sputtering and shaking his head.

“You okay?” asked Derek.

Teddy shook his head, tears mixed with the icy mountain water dripping from his hair. “Hurts.” He frowned. “Really sore, Der-Der. Don’t want da noisy hammer today.”

“Buck up there, Ted,” said Youslus cheerfully, clapping him on the back. “You’re doing great. Really great. Now saddle up and let’s get crackin’! Your muscles’ll get used to it. It’ll get easier.” He cackled.

“And look what I brung you.” He tossed a pair of earplugs onto the ground. “That way you won’t go deef while ya work.”

“No,” said Teddy petulantly. “Don’t wanna go in the pit today.”

“Now, Ted,” cajoled Youslus. “What say we make a deal—you get to work, and you can have all the food tins you want.”

“No,” said Teddy.

The old man frowned. “How’s about you get to work and I don’t let you friends starve to death?”

Teddy said nothing.

Youslus scratched his beard for a moment, then hefted the shotgun. “Well, if that’s the way you’re gonna play.” He strode over to his prisoners.

“Whadda ya say, Ted? How about I blow off your brother’s arm, just above the elbow? Or would you rather I take off his leg at the knee?”

Teddy grimaced.

“It’s your choice, Ted. What’s it gonna be? Arm or leg?”

Teddy said nothing.

“I’m gonna count five,” said Youslus, “and then I’m gonna cap your brother at the knee. If he doesn’t bleed to death, he and that other cripple there can start a club.”

“Fuck you,” said Derek.

“One,” said Youslus.

Teddy bit his lip.

“Two...Three...Four....”

“Okay.” Teddy lumbered to his feet and trudged toward the pit.

Youslus followed at a safe distance behind, once again bubbling with excitement.
Soon the generator began to howl, and the jagged pounding rocked through the canyon.

The hammer stopped twice that day—once to refill the motor with gas and once for Teddy to wolf down some food.

The others worked feverishly at their manacles but without success. The locking mechanisms were too sturdy for their flimsy, makeshift tools.

Youslus let Teddy stop at nightfall. This time he ate and drank several portions before collapsing in a heap.

The next day, Youslus set Teddy to work again. It was the hottest day yet. As the sun beat down on the prisoners, John found himself slipping in and out of consciousness. His head pounded from noise and sun. Was it heatstroke or something more sinister? His leg throbbed where the snake had bitten him. He had difficulty concentrating on the only task he had—namely, attempting to pry his lock open with the ring from a food can.

As he worked at the lock, his mind wandered back to Magdalena. He missed how she would lay a cool palm against his cheek, and the way her fingers had scanned his face, as if reading him. John wished she were here now—to bring him cool water to drink or to wipe his brow with a damp cloth.

He had read to her from his Bible while they sat together in the green pasture. No one had ever read to her before, she said. She said she liked the sound of his voice. She had listened intently to the Psalm of the shepherd, for she herself tended a flock. And she gasped in disbelief at the story of Jonah—how could there be a fish so big it could swallow a person? She had made John read that story over and over.

He regretted leaving her. And yet, he knew he had made the right choice. God had called him. How could he refuse that call and refuse his companions? It had been hard to leave her, but wasn’t God’s way always hard? Moses had wandered in the desert for forty years, the Elders said. How long would John and his companions wander in the Wasteland?

But first they would have to escape from here. Maybe they had failed already. Maybe this was their punishment, to be chained to a canyon wall until they died because John had been weak—because he had almost abandoned their quest for a woman.

These dark thoughts followed him down into a restless sleep.

He awoke to the quiet. After the near constant hammering of the Stone Biter, the silence was almost deafening. Youslus was rushing from his cave to the pit. John’s mind swam.

“What’s going on?” Derek called.

“Your brother passed out,” said Youslus, sounding annoyed. “Gonna throw some water on ’im. Git some food in his belly. He’ll be all right.”

But the old man sounded less than convinced. He descended into the pit, and after a quarter of an hour, Stone Biter started hammering again.