It was half covered with fallen limbs and rotting leaves. He swept enough of the debris away to see the series of padlocks holding the rusted gate in place. He tugged on them out of ritual. He knew they’d hold but needed to check for his own piece of mind.
The tunnel had been disconnected from the basement years ago. A large section of it had been hauled off and the makeshift grate installed as a cap on this piece in the woods. The tunnel had been used during the building’s days as a hospital to haul the dead away in secrecy lest the living patients see what awaited them. The other end had been covered when the highway was built. This grate was the only way in or out.
Thank God.
He pulled the tubes of hamburger from the grocery bag, sliced them open with his pocketknife, and shoved the meat through the tiny squares of the grate.
“Dinner time, boys.”
His voice echoed through the black tunnel.
Silence.
The fear that they’d already eaten shook his hands.
Then he heard the familiar scratching and shuffling. Jack shoved the last bit through and scrambled up the hill. He hummed a tune as he jogged through the woods. He hated to hear them eat.
It gave him nightmares.
Chapter Six
A pile of clothes had devoured the room. Dennis leaned against the wall and stared at the mess, not sure if he could tell what was clean and what was dirty.
He decided to throw everything in boxes and use the sniff test when he unpacked. He thanked God their new place had onsite laundry. The low point of his week was lugging a basket of clothes to the nearest laundromat. Once he got there he would sit and wait for his clothes to finish, paranoid of laundry thieves in the same way old women clutched jewelry against their chests as they walked down certain streets. He felt like an idiot thinking someone would steal his sweaters or gym clothes, but the laundromat was not in a good area. Of course, he had met Eileen there, so he supposed it wasn’t all bad.
He taped the last box of clothes shut, scribbled “Mo’ clothes!” on the top, and sat on a milk crate. He glanced at his watch. 3:55pm. He was giddy that he was finally leaving this place. It wasn’t a bad apartment when he first moved in, but that was four years ago. It hadn’t taken more than a year for the tiny efficiency to feel cramped. He could never relax for more than a few minutes inside before claustrophobia overtook him and he had to leave. In the end his need to get outside was probably good for him. He had been working a decent amount of overtime at the gym and hitting the weights more than usual. Both would come in good use in the fall when classes would cut into his work schedule and Coach Hatmaker would require a tortuous tryout to get his spot back on the wrestling team.
A different spot, he reminded himself. He had only been a hundred eighty five pounds when he last wrestled. Now he was hovering around two hundred. Not a heavyweight by any means, but still a weight class or two up. He remembered Hatmaker’s disposition and knew the coach would put him through the wringer to make sure that all of that added weight was functional on the mat.
A knock at his door pulled his mind back to the present. He stood, walked across the room, and squinted into the peephole. It was pitch black.
“Eileen…”
He heard her giggle on the other side and unlocked the door. She always found it funny to press her thumb against the peephole. Dennis thought she must have watched too many Mafia movies as a kid. He swung the door open.
“What are you doing here?”
She faked a frown. “I can leave, if you want.”
“Get in here.” He tugged her arm and pulled her inside. She held a plastic grocery bag in one hand. He shut the door behind her.
“I went out for some food and thought you might need a little snack, too. Ya know, with all that packing you should be doing.” She scanned the room and saw nothing but four boxes, a sleeping bag, and the
The tunnel had been disconnected from the basement years ago. A large section of it had been hauled off and the makeshift grate installed as a cap on this piece in the woods. The tunnel had been used during the building’s days as a hospital to haul the dead away in secrecy lest the living patients see what awaited them. The other end had been covered when the highway was built. This grate was the only way in or out.
Thank God.
He pulled the tubes of hamburger from the grocery bag, sliced them open with his pocketknife, and shoved the meat through the tiny squares of the grate.
“Dinner time, boys.”
His voice echoed through the black tunnel.
Silence.
The fear that they’d already eaten shook his hands.
Then he heard the familiar scratching and shuffling. Jack shoved the last bit through and scrambled up the hill. He hummed a tune as he jogged through the woods. He hated to hear them eat.
It gave him nightmares.
Chapter Six
A pile of clothes had devoured the room. Dennis leaned against the wall and stared at the mess, not sure if he could tell what was clean and what was dirty.
He decided to throw everything in boxes and use the sniff test when he unpacked. He thanked God their new place had onsite laundry. The low point of his week was lugging a basket of clothes to the nearest laundromat. Once he got there he would sit and wait for his clothes to finish, paranoid of laundry thieves in the same way old women clutched jewelry against their chests as they walked down certain streets. He felt like an idiot thinking someone would steal his sweaters or gym clothes, but the laundromat was not in a good area. Of course, he had met Eileen there, so he supposed it wasn’t all bad.
He taped the last box of clothes shut, scribbled “Mo’ clothes!” on the top, and sat on a milk crate. He glanced at his watch. 3:55pm. He was giddy that he was finally leaving this place. It wasn’t a bad apartment when he first moved in, but that was four years ago. It hadn’t taken more than a year for the tiny efficiency to feel cramped. He could never relax for more than a few minutes inside before claustrophobia overtook him and he had to leave. In the end his need to get outside was probably good for him. He had been working a decent amount of overtime at the gym and hitting the weights more than usual. Both would come in good use in the fall when classes would cut into his work schedule and Coach Hatmaker would require a tortuous tryout to get his spot back on the wrestling team.
A different spot, he reminded himself. He had only been a hundred eighty five pounds when he last wrestled. Now he was hovering around two hundred. Not a heavyweight by any means, but still a weight class or two up. He remembered Hatmaker’s disposition and knew the coach would put him through the wringer to make sure that all of that added weight was functional on the mat.
A knock at his door pulled his mind back to the present. He stood, walked across the room, and squinted into the peephole. It was pitch black.
“Eileen…”
He heard her giggle on the other side and unlocked the door. She always found it funny to press her thumb against the peephole. Dennis thought she must have watched too many Mafia movies as a kid. He swung the door open.
“What are you doing here?”
She faked a frown. “I can leave, if you want.”
“Get in here.” He tugged her arm and pulled her inside. She held a plastic grocery bag in one hand. He shut the door behind her.
“I went out for some food and thought you might need a little snack, too. Ya know, with all that packing you should be doing.” She scanned the room and saw nothing but four boxes, a sleeping bag, and the
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