Dark Things IV Read online

  Pill Hill Press

  Chadron, Nebraska

  * * * * *

  Table of Contents

  Digging Too Deep by Gregory Miller

  House of Paintings by Anthony Bell

  The Iron Maiden by Eric Dimbleby

  Cursed by E.J. Tett

  Midnight Ghosts by S.W. Morse

  A Temporary Place by Gregory L. Norris

  The Dustman by Tim Reed

  Peace by Lou Treleaven

  Waves of Dread by Nick Medina

  The Dollhouse by Douglas Hackle

  Afterlove by Tomas Furby

  People Person by Stacey Longo

  The Dimensionator by Sean Graham

  Ride into the Sunset by Marc Sorondo

  * * * * *

  Digging Too Deep

  by Gregory Miller

  NOTE: This slim packet of papers was found among the personal effects of the late Mrs. Arthur Frederick, daughter of the late Molly and James Connor. The writing is in the hand of James Connor, and dates to his 41st - 43rd years. All entries address Mr. Connor’s association with one Jake Marshall, and span a 23-month period of time. The larger journal from which these pages were evidently removed has not been found.

  December 12th, 1938

  Molly wants a roast from Stockton’s Market. Milk, butter, sugar too. Will pick them up tomorrow after shift. Have to get some penny candy for the kids if they behave between now and then.

  Working the graveyard shift Thursday night. Starts at 11. I don’t expect much hassle… “Robbing the pillars” before moving on to a new breast forty feet deeper. Foreman Grant paired me up with Jake, and we’ll be working alongside old Colin and his son…a good team on all fronts. Even with Jake’s fear of closed places, he does a good job. Wouldn’t be surprised if he becomes a foreman someday. I can’t even hold his Philly accent against him. Old Colin…he’s seen it all; I never mind working with him, and his son minds him well. Knows how to put a good day’s work in. And the job’s better than blasting the face.

  Lots of snow today…seven or eight inches on top of the foot from last week still on the ground. Tomorrow is supposed to be warm: 40 or higher.

  December 13th

  Molly’s Aunt Gertrude took ill…doctors think it may be a stroke. Will drive to Pittsburgh on Monday to visit. Must remember her in my prayers.

  John scored sixteen points in basketball today in the game against Plumville—only thirteen, but a born sportsman. Wish I could have been there. Not sure yet if I can even make it to the Still Creek/Sagamore game next Saturday or not. And of course Constance expects me at her third grade spelling bee next Wednesday. Don’t know what I’ll do about either.

  Went to Barney’s Cellar after getting off shift. Met up with Bill Sayer, Big Sam Schretengoss, and Jake Marshall for a few beers. That Jake is something else. When Big Sam wasn’t looking, Jake put the plate of his false teeth in Sam’s beer. Sam, he gets fooled every time Jake does that, so drank them clear into his mouth and started to choke before noticing them. Ended up chasing Jake round the tables and clear off down the street. All of us was laughing so hard we was doubled-over and crying. Big Sam, he never caught Jake, but I doubt he would have harmed him if he had. They seem good enough pals.

  Traded shifts with Bill so I can go to Constance’s spelling bee. Must remember to tell her.

  Have lots of time to sleep in tomorrow. Got the Graveyard tomorrow night. Plenty of time to enjoy Molly’s dinner before I go, too. From the smell of things, tonight’s dinner is ready now.

  December 16th

  Can’t write. Hurts too much.

  December 17th

  Tomorrow.

  December 18th

  Hospital bed uncomfortable. The food tastes like shoe leather. Molly snuck in chicken broth. Felt bad—couldn’t eat much. Can’t see out of my left eye—It’s covered with bandages.

  No one will tell me about Colin, but I remember now. He’s dead for sure.

  December 19th

  Saw the kids today for a few minutes. Had a nurse help me clean up a bit first. I looked like hell: still had dried blood in my hair, and my face all black and blue. Combed my hair a little, washed my face, got some clean bandages, and the nurse hid the bed pan. I still must of looked like something dead, but the kids didn’t say anything about it. John wanted to know when I’m coming home, and I told him a week. That may have been overshooting the mark a little, but I’ll work on it. Constance cried, which came near breaking my heart, but I told her to be strong. They stayed half an hour or so.

  Molly’s been a saint. Hardly ever goes home. Her mother has been taking care of the kids during the day. She only goes home at night. Big Sam and Rona give her a ride to and back.

  December 20th

  Moved my arm a bit today. The doc seemed happy.

  Trying to remember what happened. Difficult to do. The doc says I had a bad concussion, and that I’m still feeling it even after so many days.

  It was the damndest accident. I don’t know how I’m still alive.

  Yes I do. It’s because of Jake.

  Jake was working the pick at a pillar toward the back of the breast. I was working one just forty feet or so distant with Colin, and his boy was filling the cart at the mouth of the breast.

  Everything went well for a few hours. Break was coming soon and I was getting tired. I remember thinking of Molly’s sandwiches in my pail up top. Maybe otherwise I’d have been faster, read some signs, but I won’t let that get to me now—it won’t do no good. All I know is that one minute I’m prying loose coal and talking to Colin, the next I hear the racket overhead. The whole Earth seemed to crack, and Jake, he just disappeared. I swear it looked like 300 feet of Pennsylvanian limestone seemed to fall straight down on him.

  Colin was yelling at his boy to run. He grabbed my sleeve but it was too late. We hadn’t a chance. The sound was huge. I don’t know how long I was out. The next thing I knew everything was dark, and Colin was groaning beside me. And then the groaning stopped.

  I put out my hand and found his arm, but it was sticky. I was pretty sure right off I was touching blood. I reached down to feel his chest and test for breath, but there wasn’t any. Then I reached for his helmet, but the bulb was shattered like mine.

  Can’t remember any dark blacker then the dark in that breast. Once in a while over the years previous, a bulb would blow and there’d be a time of dark before I could hassle out another. But that was not like this. There were noises then, and the feel of fresh air coming from the vent. Now it felt too close and confined. All I could hear was my own breath, and smell rock, coal, and earth—along with the rusty whiffs of blood.

  Then something ran into my left eye, and it occurred to me that I was feeling pretty bad. I touched my temple with my finger and wanted to scream. And even though it was dark I felt like everything was spinning.

  My shoulder smarted something awful, too. Broken in two places, they tell me. Probably be stiff for the rest of my life.

  I kept at it, though. Slowly tried to stand, and bumped my head while still in a stoop. The roof had come down a good bit; I was afraid it might come down still more if I didn’t get out soon. I felt around more, and touched rubble. Boulders and coal were on all sides, and I didn’t rightly know which was which. I was in a space a little smaller than eight feet by eight.

  Then I thought of Jake again. My spirits fell hard. In a way I felt glad that if we were to die, at least he died quick. With his fear of closed places, it would have been a nightmare for him, gasping out to the end with that horrible panic. In good point of fact it was a nightmare for me too, since it looked like that was going to happen, but for him I didn’t even want to consider. But then I thought, What if we make it out? He’s at the back of the bre
ast, surely dead, and underneath a mountain; it would take months or years to move, if ever. Donna would be crying over an empty coffin. Better to be scared with a chance to live than buried and already out of the game.

  I thought about moving some rocks, maybe make a motion toward getting out, but didn’t dare try in case I’d bring down the rest of the roof. Didn’t know which way was which, so contented myself to sit down and hope help would come soon.

  And then…and then what I once heard called “a miracle of strange device,” I heard a knocking and a scraping from one end of the chamber. A moment later a shine of light hit me in the eyes. And who should pop his head through a hole but Jake Marshall, all covered in soot and black as pitch from head to toe! And there I was, until that moment thinking a mountain was on his head. His helmet didn’t have so much as a dent.

  It was a sight I expect I’ll remember in my prayers for the rest of my life.

  December 21st

  Fell asleep yesterday before I could finish writing everything I was thinking about. Glad I fell asleep with this notebook under me. I don’t want Molly to see it. I don’t want to scare her with all the details. This diary is for me. Writing seems to bring the days back. Yesterday they came when I thought for sure they wouldn’t. I want to remember. It wouldn’t be right not to. But some of this writing is personal. Molly’d understand.

  Seeing Jake pop through that wall of rubble, it almost caused me to weep, but instead I said, “Well for the love of Christ!” And the roof, it trembled a little.

  “Quiet now!” he hissed back. “There was a passageway among the rocks…had to crawl on my hands and knees.”

  “And you and your fear!” I exclaimed, more in a whisper this time.

  “I’m more scared of dying,” he said back. “Let’s get to work.” He looked dead serious and pale as all get-out, even through the soot, but I reckon I trusted him more then than I ever trusted any man. I took heart at his face.

  “You’re hurt pretty bad,” Jake said, looking me up and down. “Can you dig?”

  “I guess I can,” I said, and reached for a pick.

  So since we had some direction now, we slowly began moving rocks. We moved them gently so the walls and ceiling would hold. Dust and dirt sifted down, but everything held fairly true. And I don’t know how long we were at it, but before long I came to feel a draft of air, and knew we’d be safe if the roof would hold just a few minutes more.

  Then came the voices, and after an hour longer we was out.

  Jake was a rock through almost the whole thing. Only once did he seem close to losing his tough—after Jake helped me pass Colin’s body out to the crew, when he looked me square in the face without so much as a blink and said, “I have to go back.” It was an odd look that Jake had on him. Never seen the like before.

  “What you leave back there?” I asked him. “It can’t be that important.”

  “I just got to go back,” he said.

  Well, I figure the strain had got to him a bit, and no wonder, so I’m sorry to say I ended up trying to pull him toward the opening by force. He took a swing, hit me on the shoulder, and headed on back toward the dark. But I grabbed him again and said, “Now you just hold up!”

  “You don’t understand!” he said. Boy, his eyes was wide and staring.

  “No, I guess I don’t,” I said back. “But Donna’s waiting at home for you and I’ll be damned if I’ll let you keep her waiting forever. Now let’s beat it out of this place before I knock you right back.”

  And then that staring look, it seemed to seep right out of him. Without any more struggle he let me shove him through the opening to safety, though he felt like dead weight, and that’s when I passed out. And like me he slept for two days after that, and when he woke up, Molly says he was himself again.

  I’ll never mention all that fuss of his, though. No matter what, he saved my life, and he’s a hero for sure.

  December 22nd

  Looks like I’ll be out of the hospital in time for Christmas dinner. I’ll have to come back every day for tests, but I’ll be sleeping in my own bed next to Molly in just two days. That’s a warm thought.

  John won his basketball game, and Constance placed second in her spelling contest. Wish I could have seen both, but I guess I have a good enough excuse this time around.

  They buried Colin yesterday. Seems the whole town showed up and more. I went too, though of course the doctors put up quite a fuss. But I wasn’t to be spoken to about that, and I had my way. For an hour I was out in the world again, but it was a somber time. Young Colin looked about ten years older, and so did his mother.

  The undertaker did a good job making Colin look natural, and Reverend Stone gave a nice speech.

  Jake was there. I hadn’t seen him since the accident. He looked good but too pale. Shaken up. There was a bit of a scratch on his forehead, and he favored his right leg a bit, but he said it was just bruised.

  Afterward we talked a bit, compared notes on how we’re both getting along. Seems the only thing troubling Jake now is nightmares. Well, that’s to be expected. But we didn’t talk about the accident.

  Many people came up to us and shook our hands and said kind words. We’re the talk of the town now, and all the towns surrounding, too.

  Soon I got tired and came back here to the hospital so I can finish my time.

  [65 days missing]

  February 26th

  Long day. Back to the grind three weeks and my arm is smarting even with the lighter load. Have to sleep with a pillow under it tonight.

  Molly saw Donna today. Jake still hasn’t gone back to work. He’s living off Donna’s job at the mill. Guess he was more shook up than anyone thought. Donna says he still has those nightmares. I asked Molly if anything else was said, and she said Donna seemed to clam up after that.

  […]

  March 7th

  Had a drink with Jake tonight down at Barney’s. He looks pale, like he hasn’t been out much. Lost some weight, too, although he never was one for gluttony. His cheekbones have shadows.

  We talked small-talk for a time, and then he leaned back and pounded his beer and said, “You still think about the accident?”

  And of course I said, “I sure do.”

  So he says, “You ever dream about it?”

  And I said, “No. I guess I’m glad about that.”

  “You should be,” he said, and clunked his glass against the bar to get Bob’s attention.

  “You still getting nightmares, Jake?” I asked.

  “Yeah,” he said, swallowing from his third pint like it was pining to get away from him.

  “Lots?”

  “Every night.”

  I paused a moment, and thought I saw a glint of trouble in his eye, like when he’d gone funny after the cave-in.

  “They ain’t the kind everyone has as kids,” he kept on. “I wake up drenched in sweat and not knowing where I am, even though Donna’s always right there to calm me.”

  “Well I can understand that!” I said, trying to make him feel better. “You did quite a turn for me, and had a mighty close shave yourself. Closer than anyone else I’ve ever know’s gotten away with. It’s just now hitting you, is all.”

  He just shook his head and turned his eyes down into his drink.

  “Tell me it then,” I said, stubbing out a cigarette. “I hear said it’s best to talk of them…sometimes they go away if you talk of them.”

  And Jake, he looked at me so I almost turned away, and then he started talking real fast, like he was afraid he’d stop if he slowed down. “I’m digging in the mines through a huge pile of silt and stone,” he said, then starts talking about how tired his arms are, and how he doesn’t want to see what he’s digging for, although he can’t stop. He said he knows there’s been an accident, but he isn’t trying to rescue anyone. “It’s a salvage operation, nothing more,” he said. “I’m digging to find someone dead.”

  Well, there can’t be much to say to a person after
hearing something like that. Nothing like anything of importance, anyhow. I must confess I thought it a right bad dream to be having, and told him so.

  […]

  March 29th

  Still no Jake Marshall at work. Donna says he’s “thinking hard” about coming back. Haven’t seen him much since the night at the pub…only in passing, so he didn’t speak much. Looks thinner. Pale.

  […]

  April 19th

  Saw Donna today at Stockton’s. Asked after Jake. Her eyes took a fall; she put on a brave face, but soon it went cold to look at. I thought she might cry, but she held back. Seems Jake’s been having troubles. Takes long walks by himself, and sometimes doesn’t come back until late in the middle of the night. Stares off into space over meals. Spends lots of time sleeping. Don’t keep up with himself.

  Another woman? I thought for a moment. But Donna seemed to read my mind. “He’s more devoted to me than ever when he’s around,” she said. “Brings me flowers or a present every day. Doesn’t seem to want me to leave his sight. But,” she added, “he never seems happy anymore. Always looking over his shoulder. Anxious. And when the mood comes, he takes those long walks. I don’t know where. It’s like there’s a devil on his shoulder.”

  […]

  May 12th

  Spoke to Jake today. First time in quite a while I done that.

  There’s a nice fishing hole I know about on the other side of Still Creek Hill, a ways into the woods. It being Saturday and Molly out of town with the kids visiting Aunt Gertrude, I thought I’d try my hand at some Brown Trout.

  Well I walked there, taking my time and enjoying the warm, sunny weather, thinking I’ll have the place all to myself, and who do I find but Jake Marshall, sitting on a stump beside the water and tying a line on his rod.

  “Well Jake!” I says, and raise a hand. I wasn’t sure how he’d react after all the stories I’d heard, but he seemed happy enough.

  “James!” he said, and smiled. “Care to join me?”

  “I guess I would,” I said. “I thought I was the only one knew about this place.”

  Jake nodded. “Well, I’ve had time to do some exploring the past months. Now that the weather’s turned nice again about all I do during the day is fish. Donna’s at work pulling overtime, so the least I can do is enjoy the weather and maybe catch some dinner.”