Ignition Page 4

  “Sonny,” said Cy, “I come for that garden shovel. And I brought somebody you’ll want to meet.”

  The old man turned and looked me up and down with eyes as dark as coal. I did the same to him as he turned and walked toward me, his movements fluid for such an old dude, his body slim, wiry, kind of taut, like he had been a professional boxer back in the day.

  “Pleasure,” he said.

  He offered his hand and I reached out and shook it. A surge of energy passed between us. It was so strong that I fell backward and shook my hand out. He didn’t seem perturbed.

  “I saw you sitting on your porch this morning,” I said.

  Sonny had gone back to staining his chair and didn’t say anything. I could tell that he was the stoic type. It looked like it was physically painful for him to form words.

  “Sonny is a porch sitter,” said Cy. “Early morning and late evening, sunrise and sunset, he’s there. Watching out for us.”

  That sounded puzzling to me. “What are you watching for?”

  The two old men glanced at one another. Cy spoke first. “There is a lot you don’t know, William.”

  “Danger,” Sonny said.

  Cy went over to a small shack and threw open the door and busied himself with rooting around inside. I could see a vise, several calipers, power saws, and other tools of a workshop. I guessed that self-reliance was necessary when you lived as independently as he and Cy did. You had to know how to fix things, and he did.

  Meanwhile, Sonny said, “How long have you been here?”

  “A few days. I don’t know how long I’ll stay.”

  “This valley has some special sites.” He nodded for me to follow him. We walked to a small promontory a little ways away. He still carried the paintbrush.

  He pointed to the valley bottom, to an open spread of land that was about a quarter mile north of where we’d crossed. “There,” he said, “is the cemetery where our ancestors are buried.”

  “Cy didn’t tell me about that,” I said.

  “It’s closed to outsiders. You can’t get in.”

  I smirked. “I sincerely doubt that.”

  He ignored me. “And up over there is a…”

  I waited for him to finish, but he never did. “Is what?”

  “Something that we’ve long forgotten about. Our people have some legends.” He paused. “It’s better just to leave that one alone.”

  He turned away from me and went back to his chair. By now, Cy had found his shovel and was waving for me to return.

  “There’s a cemetery down here?” I asked as we descended into the valley.

  “Yes,” he said.

  “Are you going to take me there?”

  “No, they won’t let you in.”

  “Who? The staff?”

  He looked at me oddly. “No. Let’s keep moving.”

  He gestured for me to go in front of him, and as we crossed the valley on the way back to his cabin, I got the sense there was a lot that Cy wasn’t telling me.

  My third morning in the cabin, I woke up to the sound of the door closing. The sun was just starting to peek through the windows.

  Groggy, I went over to the door and saw Cy disappearing down a path into the trees, a bag slung across his shoulder. Curiosity called me. I pulled on my pants and shoes and, without even so much as a drink of water, crept out of the cabin and followed him down the path.

  It wasn’t an easy hike. The route wound up a steep path that was paved in asphalt, then turned into a wide fire road, then narrowed to a small path again that hugged the side of the cliff. I stayed far enough behind Cy that he couldn’t see me.

  Then he disappeared around a hairpin curve. When I arrived there, the trail ahead was empty. He hadn’t started running, that much was certain, so he must’ve gone off the path.

  I scanned the dry forest slope beneath me, looking for a sign of movement.

  There.

  Down the slope, and a considerable way to the south, was a small plateau of rock. A figure quickly crossed it and swung down and out of sight on the other side.

  Cy.

  I plunged into the forest and began running through the trees, smelling the pine, feeling the needles crunch beneath my shoes. The shadows dappled on my forearms.

  At last I arrived at the small plateau. I ran to the edge and looked down. There was a rope tied to an eyebolt that had been drilled and fastened into the rock. The rope disappeared over another lip of rock a little farther down.

  I had to follow.

  I waited a couple of minutes, so that Cy wouldn’t see me if I happened to catch up. Then I picked up the rope and tugged on it. It felt secure. I gripped it with all my might and began walking backward down the face of the cliff.

  Four steps, and I hit the lip. I paused and looked down over my shoulder. The floor of the valley was about thirty feet below me. I could handle this. I let out the rope, took a breath, and continued walking backward down the wall. My biceps strained with every release and catch.

  I was a few feet from the ground when the heel of my shoe caught on a small outcropping. My body pinwheeled and I found myself falling headfirst, the rope burning my palms. I managed to twist around. My body bounced on the rocky valley floor. I moaned in pain and lay there for a while.

  Eventually I sat up and looked around. The valley floor was hard here, with rocky soil and piles of schist bulging up out of the ground like unknown growths from the ancient center of the earth.

  Then I saw it.

  A cave.

  It was a decent-size opening, maybe ten feet tall and wide, and it stretched away from the daylight into darkness. I knew immediately that this was where Cy had gone.

  I pulled myself to my feet and entered the cave, allowing my eyes to adjust to the dark. You wouldn’t think that dirt smelled like anything, but this cave did, like dirt and rocks and the million years that it had been there.

  “You’re quite the adventurer,” said a voice.

  I whirled around. Behind me stood Cy, the bag slung around his back. His eyes seemed alive, and his jaw was working on something that looked like gum.

  “I’m just curious,” I said, lowering my head. “I heard you leave yesterday morning too, and I just wanted to know where you were going.”

  He approached me and grabbed me by both shoulders. I kept my face down from shame. “Look at me, William,” he said. I lifted my face and looked at Cy. He was only a couple inches shorter than me, but he was making me nervous. He had an enormous presence that demanded respect.

  “You need to make a decision,” he said.

  “What kind of decision?”

  “Whether you want to enter this cave and learn, or go back home.”

  My eyes searched his. “I think I want to learn.”

  His lips scrunched up, as though my response caused him great consternation. “That’s the more difficult path.” He thought for a moment, and then pushed a finger against my sternum. “It’s clear that you have some kind of power. I’ve already told you that.”

  I felt my heart hammering against my chest. “I don’t know what’s happening to me.”

  “How old are you?”

  “I just turned sixteen.”

  A smile curled the edge of his lips. “It’s your decision.”

  I made my decision. I nodded.

  He stepped into the darkness that stretched out behind us. “Follow me.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  The High School

  As Troy leaned against a wall in the hallway, waiting for his girlfriend, and lunch, a freak in a navy-blue pinstripe suit walked stiffly into the high school and looked around as though it had never seen one before.

  The freak in the suit stood just behind the door, away from the hustle and bustle of the hallways—girls laughing, boys roughhousing, backpacks aplenty, all streaking by him.

  His face seemed to just take it all in.

  Troy said to no one, “What’s his deal?”

  Troy didn’t like
suits, didn’t like freaks. Didn’t like the school or his girlfriend much, either. People were pains in the ass, and he was the painkiller.

  “Hey, freak boy!” he shouted over to the suit freak, but then another guy jostled the freak, told him to watch it. The face above the navy-blue pinstripe suit just looked at the student as though it were an insect. The nose twitched.

  “Which way is the office?” Its voice came out clean and high and strange.

  The student paused. It seemed to Troy that the suit freak was a wimp, backing down suddenly. “Down there, on the right.”

  Troy had to see what the deal was with this guy, so he followed the freak.

  The navy-blue suit moved down the hall, unbothered by the commotion. Boys and girls gave it a wide berth, a few making snide comments about the suit.

  One aggressive kid wearing a pair of earbuds came up to the freak. “Hey, this ain’t the bank. What you think, you gonna hold all my money? I ain’t givin’ you a deposit or nothin’.”

  The suit stared at him, and the mouth began to speak. “I am not a student.”

  Yeah, thought Troy. At least this dude is gonna kick some ass.

  But strangely, the earbud guy stepped back. The suit freak proceeded down the hall to the office, and Troy fell in close behind. As the suit stepped inside, his freaky expression changed, suddenly becoming friendly and smiling.

  The registrar behind the counter—someone Troy knew to be a complete loser—glanced up.

  “Yes, what is it?”

  “I’m looking for a William Hawk,” said the freak. The voice was now professional, but as friendly as his grin.

  She snapped, “So are we. Who are you?”

  “I’m his cousin.”

  Yeah right, thought Troy. Even this stupid woman should know that’s a load.

  “I wish I could help you.”

  Troy thought, No, you don’t.

  “What’s his address?”

  “You’re his cousin. Why are you asking me?”

  The smile on the face grew tighter. “I lost it, and I’ve never been to the family’s house.” Then, like he just made it up: “We always meet up north on the lake in the summers.”

  “Can’t help you.”

  The freak leaned in, real close. “But I need it. Now.”

  And suddenly, like the other clueless idiots around there, the woman seemed to back off. What the hell?

  “Why not?” she said, not taking her eyes off the suit. “Your name?”

  Troy had a good angle on the freak’s face now, and he could see the guy reading the little sign on the wall behind the registrar’s head.

  The sign said, “Lord, grant me patience… but do it now!”

  “Patience.”

  “Patience?”

  “Yes. John Patience.”

  Troy laughed, and the freak gave him a look. For a second, Troy thought maybe this was one bad dude, maybe the others knew something, but then he straightened up and shot back an intimidating look himself. No freak in a monkey suit was going to scare him.

  After the woman jotted down his name, she clicked through the school directory on the screen, wrote down the address, and ripped a page out of the notepad, and handed it to him.

  “Here you go, John. Say hello to Carolyn for me.”

  “Carolyn,” the freak said, like a robot.

  She looked at him oddly. “That’s Mrs. Hawk’s name.”

  “I always call her Mrs. Hawk.”

  “You call your aunt Mrs. Hawk?”

  The suit ignored her, just turned and cleared out, leaving her there, looking even stupider than usual. Troy followed.

  In the hallway near the exit, the aggressive kid wearing the earbuds was standing with a gang of other guys, making fun of the ugly girls passing by. But when the freak approached, he got quiet and turned away.

  Okay, enough of this crap, thought Troy.

  He rushed forward, planting himself between the freak and the doorway “Hey, tell me where I can get some threads like that, man…”

  “Let me pass.”

  “Over my dead body.”

  The face in the navy-blue suit turned to look at him. He took a deep breath and blinked. Troy knew he had made a mistake, as he felt something wrap around his neck and tighten, then tighten more, and tighten even more. There was no one near him, but he felt like he was being choked to death.

  Jesus, he thought, I can’t breathe. I’m gonna die.

  The freak smiled at him, waved and walked out of the school. Troy heard a gurgling sound coming from his own mouth. The world swirled and churned and turned black.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Once I’d accepted Cy’s invitation, the danger really began. I followed Cy a few more steps to the back of the cave. He’d brought a flashlight, and as he waved it around, the beam roved across the inner surface of the cave. I noticed some smooth edges around a rock in the lower corner. It looked like somebody had purposely sized it to fit in this little space.

  “What is that?”

  Cy handed me a small garden shovel. “If you want knowledge, push that rock aside.” I began to scrape around the edges of the rock. Soon I could wiggle the rock, so I took out my knife and wedged it and the shovel on either side of the rock. With great effort, I was able to pop out the rock.

  Behind the rock was a dark hole, about the width of a human body. I crouched down and peered inside. Damp air poured out from the hole, cooling my skin. Goosebumps appeared on my neck and arms.

  “What’s down there?” I asked.

  “I don’t know,” Cy replied, “but I have an idea. And it’s very special.”

  “You never tried to get in?”

  He sighed. “Sonny and I have spent our whole lives trying to find this. Our ancestors told us about it, but we didn’t have the location. We just discovered it a few weeks ago.”

  “And the problem is that you can’t fit,” I said.

  He shook his head. “But you—you could fit.”

  I looked down at my own torso. I wasn’t very big, not like some of the other guys who I knew. I’d always wished I’d had a bigger ribcage, but now it looked like my physique might come in handy.

  “Are you sure I won’t get stuck?”

  “No,” he said, “but if you get stuck, I promise to help you out. Here, wear this.”

  From his bag he lifted a long length of rope and handed me one end. He hung it around my hips. I looked down at the old native American. “You were hoping I would follow you, weren’t you?”

  He looked up at me and grinned.

  He finished tying the rope onto me, then handed me the flashlight. Then he unslung his backpack and said, “I brought some things that you might need. And one more thing.”

  “What?”

  “When you get into the cave, don’t touch the walls.”

  I scrunched up my face. “Don’t touch the walls?”

  “Trust me.”

  I agreed. At that point, I got onto my knees and crawled into the tunnel. I discovered that there was barely enough room for me to squeeze through. I threw the bag a few feet in front of me, crawled to catch up to it, and continued the process. My back scraped against the rough surface of the tunnel. My knees were crying for relief.

  After a minute, I heard Cy’s distant voice behind me say, “You okay down there?”

  “I guess.”

  I pushed forward, on hands and knees, pushing the bag, trying to control my breathing, trying to stuff down the panic. I thought about how strong professional spelunkers had to be. This was the most grueling thing I’d ever endured.

  Suddenly I reached a portion of the tunnel that was impossibly small. It was almost exactly as wide as I was, and only a few inches higher. I knew that if there was any hope of getting through, I had to be fast. I put my arms in front of me, into the short passage, took a deep breath and exhaled until my lungs were totally empty. Then I began to make small rippling movements with my body, like like I was doing the caterpillar that people u
sed to do on dance floors.

  Just when the claustrophobia grew almost unbearable, and my lungs shouted for oxygen, the tunnel widened. I got to my hands and knees and stayed there for a moment, breathing like a dog. I wiped the sweat off my face with the sleeve of my shirt.

  “William?” came Cy’s distant voice.

  “I’m still going,” I said, “but this is really hard.”

  I started moving again, and the tunnel widened a little more so that I could crouch. Another minute of awkward hunched-over stumbling, and I felt the tunnel open up into a large room. It was nearly pitch black. I stood up fully and turned on the flashlight and looked around.

  This was it.

  To my amazement, I saw that the walls were covered with symbols, words and pictures. None of it was familiar. What was this place? Was it some kind of burial chamber? A place of worship? I got the distinct hairs-standing-on-the-neck feeling that I wasn’t supposed to be in here.

  I remembered the backpack. I looked inside, and in addition to a first aid kit and a bag of peanuts and some water, I found a notepad and a nub of a worn-out pencil.

  I positioned my flashlight on a rock and pointed it at one wall. Then I sat down, and, using the pencil, I began to jot down the symbols as best I could. I wanted to show them to Cy. I was sure he would have some insight.

  When I was finished, I crawled back down the tunnel the same way I’d come in. It was slightly easier the second time, because at least I knew what to expect. I walked out of the cave, blinking in the brightness, momentarily blinded. Then I saw Cy. He’d built a small fire at the mouth of the cave. He had speared a small animal of indeterminate origin and was cooking it over the flames.

  He looked up as I came over. “I got us some squirrel to eat.”

  “Yummy. Hey, you’re not going to believe what I found.”