In One Fell Swoop, page 17
Greg chuckled. "I’m sorry for ever bringing you out here. I promise to never do it again."
"Pinky promise?" Sam asked.
Greg laughed but stopped when it hurt. "Pinky promise. The unbreakable promise of children. I nearly forgot about that." He exhaled. "I'm sorry, son. I should have been there for all of your pinky promises."
"It's okay, Dad," he said. "Just promise me you'll make it out of here."
Sam reached out his pinky and Greg wrapped his pinky around Sam’s. "I pinky promise to make it out."
Greg closed his eyes to rest, and Sam walked to Harry. He felt his throat, then spoke to him.
"Harry, wake up. You have to wake up."
"Try slapping him," Greg said.
"Does it work?"
"It does in the movies," Greg said, laughing. "There are two things you can trust in life. Movies and the Internet."
Sam looked at Harry, then lifted his hand and slapped him across the face, his eyes closed in discomfort.
The slap felt flat and Sam immediately regretted it. "I'm sorry, Harry. I am so sorry," he said.
"It's not like he can feel it," Greg said.
"Are you sure about that?"
"Absolutely. Try again."
Sam swallowed hard, then lifted his hand and swung it through the air. Just when he was going to hit Harry's face, Harry raised his hand and grabbed Sam's wrist.
Sam gasped. Harry opened his eyes. "I'll let it go once, but do it again and I start slapping back."
"Harry! It worked, it worked, Dad, it worked," Sam almost screamed.
"Told ya'," Greg said, sounding like he was about to fall asleep.
Sam helped Harry to sit up. He was blinking his eyes, then asked where he was. "We're still in the swamps," Sam said. "But we got away from the big plants."
Harry seemed to remember slowly; he held a hand to his head, then looked around. "I'll be damned," he exclaimed.
"What?"
"I think I know where we are."
Sam's face lit up. "Really?"
"Yes, I’ve been here before. I recognize that creek over there, and the clearing here. I’ve been here hunting hogs." He looked at Sam. "I think I might know the way out of here."
Chapter 68
"Give me some space."
Pete pulled out his machete and started cutting, clearing a way for us. The house behind us was creaking loudly and the trees outside were sighing. I wondered if they were plotting against us, or if it was just my imagination. I didn't like the noise the wooden planks made from beneath us.
"Hurry, Pete," I said.
"I’m working as hard as I can," he said, as he swung the machete once again and cut through the thick bushes. We took one step forward and were now standing in the doorway, while Pete cut yet another hole. A loud noise coming from behind made me turn and look, just in time to see the floor in the hallway cave in to the pressure. Tree roots sprouted through the cracks, reaching into the air, destroying my beautiful carpet, then breaking my old dresser that I inherited from my grandmother, and crashing the mirror above it.
Julia screamed.
"We should really hurry, Pete," I said, as the ceiling above us was rumbling, threatening.
Pete grunted with exertion. He was speaking in between strokes. "I…am…working as hard as I can…but this…keeps growing back as fast as I can cut it down. It…won't…stay down."
Pete was cutting and cutting, but no matter how fast he did, there still was no light coming in, and he wasn't even close to getting us out. A part of the roof finally caved in from the pressure coming from the outside and it landed in the hallway behind us with a loud thud.
Now it was my turn to scream. "Pete, hurry!"
"I am! What do you think I’m doing? But I’m not cutting fast enough. It's impossible. I need to cut three times as fast as I am."
"I have an ax in my kitchen," I said.
"Why do you have an ax in your kitchen?" Pete asked.
I shrugged. "Just in case."
"Mom keeps it there in case someone breaks in," Julia said.
"Why an ax?" Pete asked. "Why not a gun?"
"Don't ask," Julia said. "Something about The Shining and how Jack Nicholson had an ax, while the woman, the screaming one, only had a knife, and besides, Mom doesn’t like guns. She's afraid of them. Don't get into it. We've been arguing about this for years."
"I have one under my bed too," I said.
"Well, what are you waiting for?" Pete said. "Go get them."
"Yes, yes of course," I said and turned.
Behind me, the floors, my lovely wooden floors, were completely destroyed. It was an obstacle course for me to zigzag my way through the hallway to the kitchen. On top of it, I was still limping from my hurt foot. I tried to ignore the pain.
When I entered the kitchen, I almost cried. I had spent hours and hours decorating this kitchen and making it just the way I liked it and now look at it. My cherry wood cabinets were detached from the wall, some hanging halfway out, attached to a branch of some sort; others were on the floor, my lovely black and white checkered floor. My favorite vase that I used for tulips from the yard was shattered all over the floor.
Above me, the ceiling creaked, and the floors were alive underneath me.
This is not the time to be nostalgic, Patty. You gotta get a move on.
The ax was still in its place under the sink. I grabbed it and pulled it out, just as a root sprung up from underneath me and I was thrown to the floor, landing face first onto some branches sticking up. I cut my cheek on one of them and cursed. I spotted the ax that had landed not far from me, reached out to grab it, swung it and cut the branches, chopped them to pieces, feeling a lot like an Amazon warrior.
As the floors shook beneath me, I sprang for the bedroom, trying not to look at the destruction. The bed was still in its place, even though bushes of greens had spurted up underneath it. I fell to my knees and peeked under the bed, then used the ax I already had to cut the bushes down before I reached underneath and grabbed the ax I had stored under the bed.
I had barely gotten my hands on both axes before the floor beneath me rumbled loudly and a wide branch of some sort cut its way through the floor and blocked my way.
"Oh, no, you don't," I yelled, as I swung the ax and cut it in half. The top part fell and landed on top of my bed.
I turned victoriously and looked at the other half in front of me, but faster than I could react, it grew back, and this time not only in one branch, but seven, all of them had small branches on the ends of them and tons of leaves.
"How the heck did you just do that?"
I grabbed both axes, one in each hand, and swung them vigorously while screaming. I cut all of it down, then hurried past it with a victorious grin, back into the hallway.
"Hurry, Mom," Julia yelled. "It's growing even faster now."
I jumped over roots and branches and cut my way through the bushes till I got to her, then I handed her an ax. Huge branches were reaching down towards us from the ceiling now, Spanish Moss dropping everywhere, falling on our heads.
"I hate that stuff," I said and removed a clump from Julia's back with a whimper. Spanish Moss had always freaked me out, mostly because of all the stories about the critters living in it, but now it freaked me out even more because it was actually moving. A big lump fell from a branch, landed on my back, and started to crawl around, feeling like a hundred spiders.
"Get it off me, get it off," I yelped and moved around to dust it off, but the moss stayed. It was like it was holding onto my back, its claws deeply embedded in my shirt. "Julia, get it off me, please!' I screamed.
"I'm trying, Mom. It won't let go."
"Please, it has claws, they're touching me, clawing their way into my skin; please, get it away from me."
Julia grunted and cried. "I’m trying. I can't."
"Well, try harder."
Julia grunted while grabbing the moss and pulling. But it didn't move. Not an inch. "I can't. I can't get it off you. And now it's on me too," she screamed. "Help!"
I heard a sound from behind me and then felt something wet hit me. I turned and saw Pete standing there, a green spray bottle in his hand.
"Roundup?"
Pete nodded. "Found it in the cabinet by the door. Can't believe you would have such an environmental disaster in your house. Do you have any idea what this does to our planet?" he asked, while he kept spraying me, soaking my shirt, till the moss finally let go and fell to the ground, lifeless and gray. He continued on to Julia and soon she was free as well.
Pete then sprayed the entrance while we helped by cutting down whatever remained afterward, and soon we could see the sunlight, and not much later, we spotted the street in front of us where I had parked the car.
We hurried outside while the rest of my house creaked and moaned. We barely made it into the car before I looked out the window and saw my beloved house cave in and get completely crushed. Seconds later, there was nothing but the heavy vegetation to be seen. No trace of my house remained or even of the life that had unfolded there.
"I can't believe you would have Roundup in your house," Pete repeated as he drove off, tires screeching loudly. "Don't you know that each year farmers dump millions of pounds of Roundup on food crops? The levels are so excessive that scientists recently detected traces of the weed-killer in the air and rain."
As we drove through town, zigzagging to avoid the vegetation everywhere, seeing the massive destruction, in my silent mind I hoped it would actually rain Roundup around here. We sure could use it.
Chapter 69
"What are you doing, Dad?"
Emily approached them through the tall grass. Billy thought for a second he was dreaming. When he looked down at the mayor beneath him, he realized he wasn't, and blushed.
"Emily?"
"Let go of him, Dad," she said.
Billy moved away so the mayor could get back on his feet again. The mayor brushed off his clothes, which Billy found kind of ridiculous, given the circumstances and how dirty it all was already.
"He started it," Billy said.
"I walk all day to find you out here, and this is what I find?" she asked. There was a tone to her voice that sounded like he appalled her. It made him feel embarrassed.
"What are you doing out here, anyway?" Billy asked, trying to turn the conversation away from the fact that he and the mayor had turned on each other. Billy's stomach was grumbling loudly. He was so hungry, he wondered if he would actually have eaten the mayor if Emily hadn't come.
"I was looking for you, duh."
"But…?"
"When you didn't come back, I had to do something. I couldn't just leave my dad to die out here, now could I?"
"But now you're lost too," the mayor said.
She shook her head. "Nope."
Billy's face lit up. "Really? You know how to get out?"
Emily turned so they could see the rope attached to her belt in the back. "Mrs. Ingram is holding on to the other end," she said.
Billy laughed. He wanted to dance. Sing and dance with joy. He grabbed Emily and kissed her forehead. She was clammy and sweaty, but it didn't matter. "That's my girl."
"Now all we have to do is to follow the rope to get back," she said with a smile, obviously very satisfied with her own brilliance. As she should be.
"Follow me," she said and signaled them.
Emily grabbed the rope and, holding onto it, they started to walk. Billy could hardly hide his excitement to get the heck out of this place. Nor could he hide how proud he was of his young daughter, who had saved the day, well their lives actually. It was some accomplishment.
They didn't speak a word while walking. Emily in front, Billy next, and the mayor in the back. Billy was happy that he was probably never going to see this mayor-person again and hoped they would never have to talk about what had happened out there, how they had both lost their wits. There was no need for anyone else to know about it, and Billy hoped the mayor understood that.
They walked for about half an hour, pulling the rope, when suddenly Emily stopped with an uh-oh, the one sound you really don't want to hear in a situation like that.
"What's going on?" the mayor grumbled from behind Billy. "Why have we stopped?"
"Emily?" Billy asked, then took a step closer to her and placed a hand on her shoulder. "What's going on?"
She turned slowly to show him. Billy's heart stopped when he saw the end of the rope dangling from between her hands. Emily went pale.
"What is it?" Mayor Ingram asked and moved closer. "What's going on?"
Billy moved aside to show him, and Billy saw how he too lost all color in his cheeks. And then the panic erupted. Shaking his head, the mayor approached her. "No. No. This can't be. It can't be true!"
Emily was about to cry. He felt desperate too, but seeing her watering eyes filled him with a need to protect her.
"How?" the mayor yelled. "How on earth could this happen?"
"I…I don't know," Emily said, her voice shivering. "I guess your wife must have let go on the other end or something."
"Let go? Let go? How could she have let go all of a sudden? Why? Why did you let this happen?"
That was it. Enough was enough. Billy stepped in. Physically, he placed himself in front of Emily, since the mayor's body language was getting too agitated and slightly violent as he rambled on.
"I can't believe this. I simply can't believe this…how could you be so stupid? How could you?"
"Hey. This isn't her fault," Billy said puffing himself up to seem bigger than he was. "She's just a kid. She did what she could and that was a heck of a lot better than either of us could have done, need I remind you?"
Mayor Ingram literally pulled his hair, the little he had left. "But…but we had it, we had a way out, we had a way out and now…now… now this…I'm gonna…it's all her fault…move out of my way…I'm gonna…"
The mayor tried to move towards Emily, but couldn't get past Billy. Sensing the mayor's intentions to take this disappointment out on Emily, lacking anyone better to blame, Billy pushed the mayor backward into the grass. The mayor fell on his back with a thud followed by a whimper.
"Don't you ever get near my daughter again," Billy said, pointing his finger at him. "Ever."
The mayor grunted. He fought to get back up when he suddenly stopped. Panic spread once again across his face. It was too late when Billy realized something was wrong, that something had grabbed onto the mayor. With a scream, the mayor was pulled away, downwards, into the ground, trying to grab onto the soil, digging his nails into it.
Emily screamed her lungs out and so did Billy. The mayor was gone in the blink of an eye, pulled underground by something, some force bigger than him. Billy turned to look at Emily, terror in his eyes as he yelled, "RUN!"
She did as she was told. Turned and ran. Billy right behind her. Without any idea of where they were going, they just ran and ran till they suddenly shot out of the grass and landed in the soil, faces first. Panting, Billy looked up and saw the blue sky above, with great joy, then he saw the mayor's house in front of him. Next to it was a big tree with the mayor's wife dangling from it, a vine closed around her neck, her eyes staring lifelessly down at them.
Chapter 70
"It's this way."
Harry was rushing ahead of the others. Sam stayed behind with his dad in case he needed him. The pain in his leg was getting worse and worse and, even though his dad didn't want to admit it, Greg was struggling to cope.
"We're coming," Sam yelled while looking at his dad, smiling, trying to cheer him up. So far, he hadn't wanted Sam to help him or to support himself on him, but Sam was ready to help, should he decide he needed it. He was ready and willing.
Greg forced a smile at Sam, trying hard to cover up the fact that he was in unbearable pain.
"Now, there should be a small creek over there," Harry said and continued ahead. "Aha, yes. Here it is. It's right behind all this thick vegetation. Everything seems to have grown wilder and bigger since the last time I was here, but I can still recognize it. Are you coming?"
"We'll be right there," Greg moaned.
He forced himself to move faster, trying to keep up with Harry, but it was putting an unbearable strain on his leg and a few painful seconds later, he fell to the ground, face first.
"Dad!" Sam said and rushed to him. He wanted to help him get up, but Greg growled at him.
"I can do it."
Greg pushed himself up on his arms, but as soon as he put weight on the leg, it collapsed, and he fell once again.
"Dad!"
"It's okay, son. I just need…to…" Greg sighed.
Harry came back. "Are you all right?"
"I'm fine," Greg growled. "I just…"
"Here, let me help you," Harry said and grabbed Greg's arm, but Greg pulled it away forcefully.
"I can do it myself. I can take care of myself."
"No, you can't, Dad, don't you see?" Sam said. "You can't walk. You can't even stand up."
"I don't need any help," he growled once again.
"God, why are you so stubborn?" Sam asked. "All Harry wanted to do was to help."
Greg was mumbling to himself. The defeat was visible, but he refused to give in to it. Sam saw the pride in his father's eyes, the pride that he hated so much. He wanted to yell at him, to get mad at him for being so darn proud, but something in his father's eyes made him stop and change his mind. He knew Greg had a hard time accepting help from anyone, especially Harry since he knew—just like everyone else in town—how much he and Julia liked each other. Sam had never thought about it before, but now he realized that his dad probably still loved his mom.
"Uhm, guys?" Harry said.
Sam looked up at him. Harry's eyes had grown wider than what Sam thought possible. His jaw had dropped and, had it been a cartoon, his hair would have been standing up straight by now, the little bubble above his head would have had a big question mark or even exclamation point in it. Maybe even a triangle showing the word danger on fire inside of it.
