Call Me Martin

Rebecca led Ari and Martin through a door and down a flight of stairs into a damp, murky basement with a single light bulb that dangled from a string. A large billiard table was covered with electrical components. A smoking soldering iron gave off a foul odor that permeated the basement.

“What are you doing, building a computer?” Ari asked, picking up a motherboard.

“No, a transmitter. I already built a receiver.” Rebeca tapped a plastic box. “I heard the local goons talking on their radios when you were brought in last night. I did this all with a couple of electronics kits and parts that I found in this store. I read every manual. My next step is to make an antenna that will hopefully broadcast a message on the highway patrol’s dedicated frequency. I need a little more time.”

“What do you know about the townsfolk?” Martin asked.

“They used to live here, in this ‘town’. By the looks of things, I would say they turned these streets and buildings over to these things about 25 years ago. The television I found across the street had a manufacture date of 1991. And the Computer I found down here is circa, 1994. Has a modem but the phones don’t work.” Rebecca picked up the shell of a walkie-talkie. “If I can transmit a message, an S.O.S. and keep trying, someone will hear it, maybe in Des Moines.”

“What? Ari asked. “Did you say, ‘Des Moines?’”

“We’re in Iowa, dude,” Rebecca said. “Not sure exactly sure where, because like you, we were brought here about 4 am., on the road for a solid 12 hours, meaning the Highway Patrol won’t be looking for you guys anywhere near here. We’re about 400 miles off course, so to speak.”

Ari glanced at Martin. “So, either we make contact with someone or we make a run for it.”

Rebecca moaned. She reached down to pick up a piece of stationary, the light bulb illuminating the tattoo of a scorpion on her right forearm. She handed Ari a crudely drawn map.

“Near as I can tell, the towns folk live just beyond that barn where they brought us. When you guys came in last night, were those metal fence posts still there?”

Ari nodded.

“Yeah, a pile of them.”

Rebecca looked at a spool of wire.

“If you position them right, they might make a good antenna.”

“That means we have to get to the barn,” Ari said in low voice.

“Yeah,” Rebecca said. “Even though we were warned to not go back, it might be our only way out.”

Ari shook his head.

“That sheriff was adamant about us not going back to the barn.” Ari looked up at the wooden door. “Given enough time, we could probably build a boat. If they put something in the water, then we can assume it stays in the water. It didn’t follow you on shore, did it?”

“No, but we better be very careful. I can’t guarantee that whatever is in the lake won’t poke its head up and snatch one of us.”

Ari grimaced and rubbed his chin.

“Fight or flight.”

“No,” Rebecca countered. “Fight, flight or shelter in place. You don’t run out in a tornado. You’re better off crawling into a bathtub and hoping for the best.”

Ari glanced at Martin and looked around the basement; the four concrete walls that smelled damp, the billiard table covered with electronic components, a small window just under the roof that opened to the surface, a narrow closet door and a metal shelf packed with drills, hammers, boxes of nails, shovels and cartons.

“I wonder.”

Martin turned to Ari.

“Are you thinking of making a weapon?”

“You must read minds,” Ari said, putting his hands on his hips. “With the right materials, we can build a really big bomb, maybe big enough to catch the attention of a seismologist or a passing car on the interstate.”

“We’re a long way from the interstate,” Rebecca countered.

Ari nodded.

“I saw a wine bottle in the garbage upstairs.”

“I once had a whole closet full. I have eight left. You want to have a party?” Rebecca asked facetiously.

“No, but fill that bottle with turpentine or kerosene and we can fire bomb those things.”

“If, fire actually hurts them,” Rebecca countered.

“Nearly all living organisms retreat from fire,” Ari said. “Did any of your group ever try that?”

Rebeca shook her head.

“My ‘group’ wasn’t here long enough to try a lot of things. But we were not the first.”

“What do you mean?” Ari asked.

Rebecca motioned to a dark area under the staircase.

“I found evidence of other victims going back decades, albeit not conclusive. If you asked me to speculate, I would say that this kidnapping scheme has been going on since the 1980’s. I found freshly minted coins, a full range of camcorders, magazines, medication, ‘Miami Vice’ backpacks, a Mondale-Ferraro bumper sticker and… the list goes on.”

“That bus driver is in cahoots with them,” Ari remarked.

“Karl Mueller,” Rebecca said. “Found his baptism records in the church next door. He’s one of them. Probably went to work for the same bus company using aliases.”

Ari looked at Rebeca, noticing a scar that ran from her throat to the back of her neck. “Why’d you do that?”

“Pardon?” Rebecca asked.

“Your jugular. You tried to kill yourself by cutting your throat.”

Rebecca gaped.

“How did you know?”

Ari looked from Martin to Rebeca.

“My brother killed himself 10 years ago. That is how he did it; took a long, sharp knife from our father’s fishing kit and sliced his jugular. I’m the one who found him. There’s not a day that goes by that I don’t see him sprawled out on our kitchen floor, surrounded by a puddle of blood, his blood.” Ari coughed, tears fogging his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“No need to apologize,” Rebecca said, rubbing her scar. “The first winter here was the hardest. I had never felt so alone in my life. I ventured out to chop fire wood and hurried back until I realized that no one was around. One day, I tried walking out of here, right through the forest.” Rebeca motioned to her right leg. “I didn’t make it far. It was just before Christmas, a time when I would normally be with my family. I couldn’t bare the loneliness.” Rebecca walked over and looked into Ari’s eyes. “I’m sorry about your brother. I can only imagine what turn in his life led him to that dark place. Unlike him, I did not have the fortitude to do anything more than give myself a really nasty cut.”

Ari looked at Martin.

“Any ideas?”

“We need to learn more.”

Ari rolled his eyes.

“I don’t have my lap top and I doubt this place has WiFi, so I can’t go on line and look up ‘Demonic Winged Carnivores that feed on humans and don’t like shoes.’”

“Leather, rubber, plastics,” Rebecca said.

“What?” Ari asked.

Rebecca folded her arms.

“They don’t like footwear of any kind. What are shoes and sneakers made of but leather, rubber and some plastics. Cotton, if you count the shoe laces. Something in that mix gives them indigestion.”

Ari rubbed the back of his head and paced around the dingy floor.

“I think we’re onto something here. There’s a whole rack of tires upstairs. Maybe, all we need is a repellant, something to buy us time.”

“You’re hell-bent on running for it,” Rebecca flatly stated.

“Absolutely,” Ari said. “I’m not a fighter but I know how to flee.”

Rebecca motioned to the cluttered billiard table.

“I’d rather build a really good radio and call for help. It’s much better than jumping into a waterfall and hoping you don’t hit any rocks.”

“You don’t want to leave,” Martin said, looking Rebecca in the eye. “This is your universe. Your cage. If you keep a lion locked up long enough, it won’t even venture out when the door is open.”

Rebeca narrowed her eyes.

“What the hell are you saying?”

Martin glanced at Ari.

“Seven years. In seven years, you didn’t try building a raft or going through those woods in the opposite direction? And it took you this long to build a radio that just might or might not work?”

Rebecca huffed and walked right up to Martin. Though she towered over him, he did not flinch.

“You think you know me?” She shouted. “You think I enjoy this place?”

“Easy,” Ari said.

“Like all prisoners,” Martin said, looking up into Rebeca’s blazing eyes. “You have been so institutionalized that the prospect of release terrifies you.”

Rebeca went to slap Martin’s face but his gloved hand moved in a blur to grab her wrist. She burst out crying and shook her head.

“I think we should leave,” Ari said.

Martin released Rebecca’s wrist and followed Ari out of the basement and out of the hardware store.