countenance had been screwed up into a joker’s grin, a wicked little Cheshire Cat number, but had become softer, the skin looser. His entire affect seemed lighter .
“Yes you did! You called him a nig—” Lyle felt a hand slap over his mouth and another wrap around the nape of his neck as his mother fought to silence him.
She hissed, “We don’t say words like that!”
Jaleel looked at Lyle, his eyes questioning. “He did. Didn’t he?”
Muted by his mother’s sweaty palm, Lyle nodded with exaggerated movements. His mother, apparently not wanting him to communicate anything else, shoved him up against the rock face. She stole his breath with a forearm to the chest while the other hand kept its hold on his mouth.
“Would you just shut up!” his mother bellowed. “For once in your miserable existence, please, learn how to be fucking quiet !”
Spittle covered Lyle’s face in a fine mist.
“All you do is screw around on that phone and ignore me! I’m your mother, you sniveling little cunt-rag! You’re the reason your father died! You! The poor son of a bitch ran straight into the bowels of hell to get away from your incessant goddamn noise. All day, all night. Me, me, me, me, me ! It’s all you think about. No wonder tigers eat their fucking young!”
“Mmmphhhh…” Lyle managed through the palm she still had over his mouth.
“Just stop it! Shut the hell—” His mother’s eyes suddenly softened. She shuffled backward, releasing him. “L-Lyle, what’s wrong? Honey? What happened?”
“You went batshit,” the guy in the baggy pants said. His girlfriend punched him in the arm.
“What’s going on?” Donald asked from the guard wire.
“Everyone just relax.” Jaleel held his hands out in front of him as if everyone were going to stampede. “It’s anxiety; I’m sure of it. It’s like cabin fever or something like that. This trail gets to people. Just calm down, just breathe… it’s like… you know, when the lights go out, and you don’t know where you are, and then BAM ! BAM ! Whooey !”
With that, everyone in the group jumped at once. The tour guide spun in circles, laughing. His head tilted back at an odd angle as he sang to the heavens, “ The Dastardly Bastard of Waverly Chasm does gleefully scheme of malevolent things! ” Over and over again, Jaleel trilled those same words, as his revolutions got wider.
Everyone was yelling, hurting Lyle’s ears. He clamped his hands over them, but he could still hear their muffled calls of confusion, anger, and fear.
“What the hell is wrong with that dude?”
“Somebody grab him before he goes over the edge!”
“Stop it!”
“I didn’t say anything! I promise!”
“Mom?” Lyle looked to Marsha for comfort, an explanation, something , anything as the voices around him carried on. His head spun like the dancing tour guide, and he felt himself stepping forward. He had to escape. No one could help him. The chasm was the only way out.
Lyle sprinted for the steel wire, his right leg coming up to hurdle it.
He would be so welcome down there, down in the dark, where the Bastard played. Everything felt so right. Nothing would ever be wrong again. Lyle could hear angels singing, trumpets sounding, and birds chirping. Paradise was just over the wire.
“I’ve been ever so lonely down here,” a voice beckoned.
13
THROUGHOUT THE CHAOS, MARK SIMMONS kept his camera working. Something instinctive made him catch every insane happening as events played out before him. Not caring about the framing or focus of the Nikon, he pressed the shutter release repeatedly.
Click, snap…
Squirt seemed upset about something. His eyes showed dark, vehemence filling his face as he spoke to the tour guide. Mark couldn’t make out what the man had said, but by Jaleel’s reaction, it hadn’t been good.
Click, snap…
Lyle tried to say something. Marsha reacted as any mother would by clamping a hand over the boy’s mouth, silencing
“Yes you did! You called him a nig—” Lyle felt a hand slap over his mouth and another wrap around the nape of his neck as his mother fought to silence him.
She hissed, “We don’t say words like that!”
Jaleel looked at Lyle, his eyes questioning. “He did. Didn’t he?”
Muted by his mother’s sweaty palm, Lyle nodded with exaggerated movements. His mother, apparently not wanting him to communicate anything else, shoved him up against the rock face. She stole his breath with a forearm to the chest while the other hand kept its hold on his mouth.
“Would you just shut up!” his mother bellowed. “For once in your miserable existence, please, learn how to be fucking quiet !”
Spittle covered Lyle’s face in a fine mist.
“All you do is screw around on that phone and ignore me! I’m your mother, you sniveling little cunt-rag! You’re the reason your father died! You! The poor son of a bitch ran straight into the bowels of hell to get away from your incessant goddamn noise. All day, all night. Me, me, me, me, me ! It’s all you think about. No wonder tigers eat their fucking young!”
“Mmmphhhh…” Lyle managed through the palm she still had over his mouth.
“Just stop it! Shut the hell—” His mother’s eyes suddenly softened. She shuffled backward, releasing him. “L-Lyle, what’s wrong? Honey? What happened?”
“You went batshit,” the guy in the baggy pants said. His girlfriend punched him in the arm.
“What’s going on?” Donald asked from the guard wire.
“Everyone just relax.” Jaleel held his hands out in front of him as if everyone were going to stampede. “It’s anxiety; I’m sure of it. It’s like cabin fever or something like that. This trail gets to people. Just calm down, just breathe… it’s like… you know, when the lights go out, and you don’t know where you are, and then BAM ! BAM ! Whooey !”
With that, everyone in the group jumped at once. The tour guide spun in circles, laughing. His head tilted back at an odd angle as he sang to the heavens, “ The Dastardly Bastard of Waverly Chasm does gleefully scheme of malevolent things! ” Over and over again, Jaleel trilled those same words, as his revolutions got wider.
Everyone was yelling, hurting Lyle’s ears. He clamped his hands over them, but he could still hear their muffled calls of confusion, anger, and fear.
“What the hell is wrong with that dude?”
“Somebody grab him before he goes over the edge!”
“Stop it!”
“I didn’t say anything! I promise!”
“Mom?” Lyle looked to Marsha for comfort, an explanation, something , anything as the voices around him carried on. His head spun like the dancing tour guide, and he felt himself stepping forward. He had to escape. No one could help him. The chasm was the only way out.
Lyle sprinted for the steel wire, his right leg coming up to hurdle it.
He would be so welcome down there, down in the dark, where the Bastard played. Everything felt so right. Nothing would ever be wrong again. Lyle could hear angels singing, trumpets sounding, and birds chirping. Paradise was just over the wire.
“I’ve been ever so lonely down here,” a voice beckoned.
13
THROUGHOUT THE CHAOS, MARK SIMMONS kept his camera working. Something instinctive made him catch every insane happening as events played out before him. Not caring about the framing or focus of the Nikon, he pressed the shutter release repeatedly.
Click, snap…
Squirt seemed upset about something. His eyes showed dark, vehemence filling his face as he spoke to the tour guide. Mark couldn’t make out what the man had said, but by Jaleel’s reaction, it hadn’t been good.
Click, snap…
Lyle tried to say something. Marsha reacted as any mother would by clamping a hand over the boy’s mouth, silencing
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