SCUTTLE ( I )

Long shards of glass shattered upon the roof. Echoing. Resounding through the halls of his thoughts. Long thin streams of water splashed upon the windshield as the vehicle glided smoothly along the pathway, passing lighted dwellings seated on vacant streets. Inside a man, tall and thick, his skin rough and his back straight, maneuvered his way to the city park, unafraid.

It is the era of the fallen sky, and it has the people of Galendein locked scared behind their doors. He remained unafraid, always. Courage motivating his body, fear feeding his soul, and strength holding his mind together. But he hears the glass break, the rain splashes in his vision, and the vehicle slides along the track in the street. He has located the dark spot. The place is deep within the woods of the park, and he raced through the empty night with frantic urgency. They challenged his accession with faint illusion of sight and sound, it was insignificant to him now, and they were not close enough yet. But every moment brought him nearer until the city lights faded and the dwellings were few and far between. Beautiful green trees and bush lined the road, he was in the park now and shards of glass crashed into his vehicle with tremendous force. Concentrating through the facade the glass splashed and became water. Leaving the car in a lot, he trudged through the mud and the bush underneath the large sheltering trees. He stopped before it; darkness rested upon its entrance and filled its belly. Pushing through the bushes and into the unholy den, sinister colorless energy moved though his hair, licked at his skin. It filled him, took his soul and crushed it, emptying its essence into the void, stealing his warmth. Dead babies hung from the trees.

He left with eyes burning cold. Back within his vehicle, he steered it along the winding track built within the pavement. The rain does not hinder his driving; he is well connected to the road. The vehicle is short and bulbous with tiny fins built into the back and front. He parked it in front of his apartment complex and went inside. He lived alone, the apartment sparsely furnished. It smelled of stale wood and mildew. Standing before the glass door to the balcony he looked out upon the quiet city below, the sun rising behind the clouds, and bowed his head.

Jim Hanlen didn’t like his job, but he didn’t hate it either. It was just so boring sometimes, waiting for customers to come in with their desires to remodel and build. There were a few hundred different kinds of tile, hundreds of shapes and sizes, and hundreds of colors and designs to choose from. Not a big time tile outlet, just a small department of a department store. When the customers did come in, they usually didn’t want his help. Most had already paid an interior decorator to come up with the exact size, shape and color. Yeah, he was bored out of his stinking mind. It paid well though, and at his young age of twenty-seven it was easy to spend it and have lots of fun. At least that was the case before the rains came, bringing gloom and depression to the people of Galendein, city of the province Alentone. The rains came fierce and unexpected to this usually sunny land. The endless rains, and with them the stalkers who stole babies and young children.

On the night of the first day of the rains, someone was believed to have entered through an open window in the living room. The Steltons first newborn was missing from her crib the next morning, not a sign of her anywhere. Baby Stelton was only the first. Every night from that day to this one, over two months later, a young child has been stolen. Each one as mysteriously as the first, no trace or sign of any sort ever left behind. Panic and fear had seized the people’s minds of this city, life went on naturally during the day, but at night the city died.

“Damn police, what are they good for?” Jim had his head resting upon his hand and his eyes had been staring into middle distance when he heard the young woman’s voice. He straightened up and focused, and saw her standing to his right at the end of the counter. Brown hair flowed over and around a fragile face. Violet lipstick colored flowery soft lips and a fading tan brightened smooth ambrosia skin. Her frame was thin and small, but her body was strong with round hips, soft robust thighs and ample breasts that had a charm all their own. She was wearing a light, beige rain jacket and tight blue slacks. Under her right arm was a folded umbrella and in her hands was a net pad, her brown eyes fixed squarely upon the screen, her brow wrinkled.

“She’s attractive…sexy,” thought Jim, “but…”

“I mean,” she said looking up in his direction, “what do we pay them for?” She did not expect the question to be answered, nor was it. “These abductions happen every night, without occurrence. It’s like these people can just walk into those houses and do whatever.” Her face had reddened and she had been angrily gesturing with her right hand.

“Well,” said Jim coolly, he had been thinking on this subject for quite some time, “that’s exactly why the police can’t stop it. No witnesses, fingerprints, signs of any kind. These children go to sleep at night and the next morning their gone, vanished. In a couple cases the parents were sleeping in the same room, or bed, with the children. They neither heard nor saw a thing. You can’t blame the police, this case is something supernatural, and they are merely human. You, nor I, could do any better.”

Brushing her long hair back with her hand, she looked Jim directly in his blue eyes, “I bet we could.”

The wild statement took Jim quite by surprise. Still he retorted, “Don’t you understand? There’s nothing to go on, no trail, no clues, not even a ransom, just missing children and fear. If you concentrate real hard you can even smell the stink of death that those children surely met.”

He had gotten to her. She stared through him with wide open eyes and was sucking on her lower lip. Jim slicked his medium length black hair back and folded his hands behind his head, sighing. Why had he become so bothered by this woman’s suggestions? Was it the tension and fear of this whole phenomenon pressing down on him, or was his pride bruised by the helplessness of the situation this whole city was in?

“I’m sorry,” she said after a moment. “It’s just that there has to be something someone can do to end these horrible crimes.” Tears welled in her eyes, and Jim sighed and came from behind the counter and put his arms around her shoulders in an attempt to console her. She relaxed, easing into him, and put her arms around his waist and her face into his chest and shoulder. She started crying and he knew that this wasn’t just something she was reading on the net pad or watching on the news, it had happened to someone she knew, maybe even to her. Sniffling, she raised her head from his shoulder and pulled away, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright; this must be a trying time for you.” She opened her mouth to speak, but he pressed a finger to her lips. “Listen. I get a break in ten minutes. Why don’t I buy you lunch to make up for my insensitive remarks, and we can talk about it.”

The Tea Party Movement, the GOP and the Suburban Doughnut Eaters

Every weekend there is a line around the block, from 7 am to 3 am, for the local black magic doughnut explosion. People, most of whom drive into the city from the suburbs, waiting in line for doughnuts that are really no better then the ones at the Fred Meyer bakery. Save the gas, money, and time; there’s a Freddy’s in your neighborhood, and the doughnuts are a lot cheaper. Just buy a box of Coco Pebbles (or whatever sugar cereal floats your boat) and sprinkle some on top. Fry up some bacon and lay a couple slices on top of a maple bar; do it yourself and you can enjoy it fresh and hot. Yummers! Ah Americans and their bloated, self-indulgent, frivolous ways. The privileged elite, entitled to all the world has to offer no matter what the cost, and more. Always more.

The election of 2010, the house turned by the Tea Party Movement; overpaid white folks concerned that our government’s ‘out of control’ spending and resulting budget deficit increase will mean higher taxes for them and their privileged children in the future, and one less car in their garage. Oh the humanity! A deficit hole deepened already by an unnecessary invasion that further destabilized a region already upset with us for meddling in their affairs (to which I say to them: welcome to the cost of big business). A war, let’s face it, fought for the sake of our economy. Oil is the fuel of the economic engine, for us and the world. We had to protect our interest and guard against the possibility of losing some access to the substance that feeds our insatiable appetite for power and money. Saudi Arabia, our staunchest Islamic ally, even warned us not to go through with the invasion. Not because we would enrage the Arab Street but for concern of what it would do to the struggling economy just shaken by 911. But we ignored such warnings and against the opinions of most of the world we sent a bunch of trained kids from poor families (trying to come up with a way to pay for higher education so that they can obtain a better life) across the world to kill some poor Arabs pissed off at us for invading their land.

Was this enough for the Wall Street Fat Cats? They sold stocks for equity that didn’t exist, loaned people money to buy houses with high mortgage rates that they would never be able to fully pay, and they defaulted. The market collapsed. But hey, this is a capitalist system, that’s how it goes. They failed, cheated and lied, made bad investments, fair enough, let them fall. Oh no, we can’t do that, all these over-paid middle class white people will suddenly be poor and have to rely on government subsidies and welfare programs to eat and function in American society. The very programs they abhor. The horror! The government has to do something, the government has to bail them out with money it doesn’t have. Whew! That was close! But that’s not enough to stop companies from laying off lower middle class workers. Unemployment rate rises.

What are we going to do? What a mess. Who has a plan? Not a critique of a plan, but a plan! Along comes a man in a position to present a plan that everyone will hear. He obtains the highest elected office and is in a position to put forth a series of ideas that will promote jobs, education, innovation, and progression. Is it a quick fix? Nothing worth doing, that will last, can be done quickly with immediate results, nothing done on such a grand scale anyway. Especially not when you go up against old money and old ways of thinking. It will take years to see results, but when they come they will be worth the wait. The country will be better, cleaner, brighter and a new less destructive age will be at hand.

It is not fast enough for wealthy, entitled Americans worried that they will be asked to help with the cost of sustaining growth and funding programs that help their fellow citizen, that grow their country. After all, that second car, third tv, surround sound system, yearly vacation, country club membership, new suit, new shoes don’t pay for themselves you know. It’s not fast enough for bitter working class people stuck in dark corners and looking to blame anyone they can except themselves. Blinding themselves to the events of the recent past it’s easy blame the current leaders in power, even if they have been in power for only a short time. Worried that they may be asked to be true patriots, and just tighten their belts and push on through for a better America tomorrow. We have to stem the tide now! Something must be done now! With results we can see today! We must elect politicians that will cut ‘costly’ programs that fund and protect education, clean air and water, fair trade and communication, welfare, health, oh and yeah, some of our excessive defense spending. Cutting domestic programs that account for only 1% of federal budget spending, that help keep the disenfranchised poor from rising up and protesting in the streets against the self-important, overpaid and self-entitled wealthy. Whoops. Oh and we cut police funding as well, so now there won’t be enough of them to protect you when the people that had funded heat, shelter and food suddenly don’t and take to rioting. Meanwhile our education suffers, our air and water become more polluted, our weather gets worse, and our ecosystem dissolves. Whoops, no funds for emergency programs. So instead of building for a better tomorrow, while sustaining a sense of equilibrium today, and eventually being able to reduce the deficit by growing our economy and raising some taxes for the overpaid, we dissolve into further, deeper, decay.

Oh yeah, the GOP? The GOP will do anything that is pro-wealthy, anti-liberal, against the opposing party, without compromise, just to be contrary, no matter whether it is logical or not. They will publicly and privately promote dissidence that is borderline traitorous as long as their party does not hold the presidency, capitalizing on any and every mistake made, pushing their agenda whether it destroys the fabric of our country or not.

BLOOD OF THE SPRINGTIDE (PART VII)

Steadily, feeling their way along, they lowered themselves from the tunnel into the oddly warmer water of the pool. They descended and their feet touched the ground, the water coming up to Rafael’s shoulders and to David’s chest.

“It’s warmer, why?” asked David.

Rafael didn’t answer the question because he could not, but noticed faint light coming down through another tunnel ahead.

“Look! Light!” He grabbed David by the shoulders and positioned him so that his friend was looking ahead. David smiled and felt hopeful for a moment, but that began to fade as the water became even warmer and a soft bluish green glow began to emanate within the liquid all around them. The chime ended abruptly, and a dry aching silence pushed into the room. A foul presence, heavy and thick, entered with it, quaking and pounding, thudding and cracking the concrete walls causing wispy gray clouds of dust to float into the air. The cyan glow within the water brightened as seconds passed, and the boys headed for the tunnel with a combination of swimming and flailing. By the time they had reached the tunnel’s lip, the glow was approaching a blinding magnitude and had become a rich teal. It lit up the entire room, and the walls and ceiling appeared as if covered in seaweed and phosphorescent slime.

The water had become hot, causing the boys to sweat, and steam rose into the air. In the center of the pool it began to bubble and then boil. They felt it, dark and ubiquitous, like claws scratching at their guts, but they could not move, to escape the pool. It began to rise through the boiling center and they were physically drawn to it like electrons to the nucleus of an atom. Mentally they knew they must leave, their conscious minds screaming within their skulls for them to flee, to pull themselves into the tunnel and escape. Physically they were trapped, their bodies bound to the force rising from the water, pulling at them. And they turned to face its rising form, tears streaming from their eyes.

The familiar rainbow feathered plumage matted together with straw and mud and sewn into a tan cloth, arose slowly from the churning center drawing the surrounding water into it. The tinted ocular lens now reflecting the color of deep teal, its right eye half opened behind the long knotted hair that did not appear to be wet. The lower half of its malformed face now clearly visible, scarred with healed incisions and scabs, its mouth agape, every tooth a fang. The black robes billowing about its monstrous frame as if caught in some phantom wind, crisp and dry, the inscriptions lightly aglow in a pitch-dark complexion unknown. Eventually it towered above them and stretched out its arms to either side. It seemingly floated there, the bottom of its robes caressing the churning water below. Its arms then fell to its sides and the gloved hands reached underneath the robes, when they were revealed again each held a glinting machete. It raised them high to its sides and formed a dominating pose. The churning water increased in intensity, boiling viciously. The temperature of the water rose almost to the point of burning the boys’ skin.

The teal light magnified, causing the boys to squint, and it appeared to climb up from the water and saturate the thing’s black robes. Eventually the robes were no longer black, except for the scriptures and delineations which remained that unknown sable, like the deepest, darkest hole in the ether. Once the teal had penetrated every fiber, an assortment of pigments pulsated in a myriad of shapes and lines throughout the area of the fabric, moving and flashing brilliantly. The boys’ eyes grew wide and then dilated as an euphoria consumed them; a thick dull joy that numbed them to their predicament. They had become mesmerized by the colored light display. The water boiled all around them now, so hot it burned their skin and yet they could not feel the pain. Their eyes were wide and their minds far away, riding comets through aqua marine landscapes of colored coral, fauna and flora. The miscreation looked down upon them; a rainbow beam of light surged forth from its ocular lens and bathed them in humid warmth, like the inside of a moist flesh walled oven. With ease it brought the machetes down upon them and cleaved the heads from their necks as if they were dolls, which tilted to the side, pulled on the skin and clinging viens, and then rolled off splashing into the frothing water. The headless bodies convulsed violently but remained upright, blood spouting from the open necks and spilling into the water where it was instantly drawn to the robes. As copious amounts of blood spurted forth, from the subclavian and jugular veins, and ran into the water, the robes absorbed every bit until they were exclusively sanguinary and the water clear as mountain dew.

Eventually it seemed as if every bit of blood had been drained from the bodies, now pale, the boiling water having caused the skin to peel and blister. The symbols unknown and unrecognizable throbbed and brightened and filled with white and red cell and platelet, until the robes were black once again. The sanguine symbols streaked through limitless ether, moving beyond stone, water or earth, showing brightly to unseen eyes. Where planets were like molecules, rotating existences in pulsing fluid clear and thick, receiving the fresh essence burning with power, new and unfettered. To saturate and enhance, formulating within a living spectrum unheard and unseen. That deep at its core is needing, yearning, the fluid thinning. It taketh for plentiful nutrition, to heal, weave and grow. It taketh intrepidly without mercy, without concern for consequence.

The transfusion complete, the coil fabric enriched, the miscreant lowered into the ferment until no sight of it was present above the pool’s surface. The water calmed and became cool and still, the bodies, less of skin and flesh and showing bone and organ in place and point, slipped into it. The light bulbs lit again and the water resumed its slow, steady current down the concrete aqueduct on its way to the reservoir.

THE END

BLOOD OF THE SPRINGTIDE (PART VI)

David didn’t need to look behind him; he knew his friend was gone. There was no mistaking the horrid sounds of his friend choking as he gasped for air, they had echoed throughout the tunnel. He couldn’t bring himself to look behind him, to see Tim’s crumpled body lying in the tunnel, or worse, the frightening sight of that ghastly killer on his tail. Ahead, the dim light in the next room brightened as he neared. He was moving as fast as he could, but each step sunk into moving water, making it very difficult for him to build up any momentum. Regardless, foreboding and distress compelled him to power on, and eventually he made it to the next room.

His first instinct was to scan the room for signs of his friends, but alas there were none. He feverishly spun around to see if he was being pursued and was relieved to see that the tunnel lay vacant all the way back to the faded light of the last room. He calmed a bit and took some time to examine the tunnel; it was a smooth and seamless stream throughout its length. If Tim’s body was still there; it was completely covered by the water. Turning his attention back to the room, he realized that this tunnel was the only one from the last room that connected here. This area was very much like the last two, with the exception that there was no steel door and only one tunnel that exited upward.

He was sobbing again, and had been for a short time before he realized it. He began telling himself that he needed to calm down and try and figure out how he was going to get out of here. He took deep breaths and said; “OK. OK,” aloud, fighting back his uneven breathing and trying to soothe his rapidly beating heart. Eventually he was able to even out his breathing and the sobbing subsided and he found that he could focus. All this time he had kept his eyes trained down the tunnel, sensitive to even the slightest abnormal movement. It was obvious that he had to keep traveling up through this aqueduct system, into the hills. The water was entering the tunnels from somewhere up there, and that was likely where he would find some sort of exit. It was rational to discern that there were other steel doors as well, and maybe, just maybe, one was unlocked.

Now that he had calmed down some, he became fully aware of how cold he had become. The water was freezing, the heat of the sun had long left him, and goose pimples covered his skin. The further up hill he traveled, the colder it would get, but he had no other choice and dove into the pool, swimming to the opposite tunnel. He entered it and began moving toward the distant light of the next pool room. Quick, but thorough, glances down the tunnel assured him he was not being followed. Again, this room was much like the others, and exactly like the last one except there was a steel door on the right hand wall. David was about to swim toward it when a final look back renewed his panic. The light in the room behind him was out and a deep darkness had filled the tunnel. Although it was not distinct, he could hear a strange melodic ringing, distantly echoing. When he tried to focus in on it and pinpoint the source, he could no longer hear it. The steel door’s knob twisted and that became too much for him and he frantically began swimming for the exiting tunnel. He arrived at its lip and pulled himself onto the waterway.

“David!”

The voice was familiar but fear drove him to duck into the cover of the tunnel.

“Dios!! David! It’s me Rafael!” He heard a splash and recognizing that this was indeed his friend, popped his head out of the opening as Rafael arrived. David reached down and helped him out of the pool.

“Where’s Aaron?” David asked as he leaned out to see if he might be behind him.

“You don’t want to know, my friend.” Rafael choked back a sudden sob. “Tim?”

“Gone.” Tears stung his eyes. “It was horrible. What is it? Is it human?”

“I don’t know. La fantasma, posible. No se. Whatever it is, it is very close by. Can you hear the ringing?” Rafael was surveying the room feverishly, acute to the slightest stirring.

“Yeah, some sort of distant crazy melody being made with bells?”

“Yes, it’s very strange. We better go. There has to be someway out of here up ahead.” Rafael tried to sound confident, but his emotions betrayed him and his voice cracked. “Somewhere?” he said under his breath.

They turned in unison and began moving quickly up the tunnel, looking back constantly as they went. The haunting chime increased in volume with their every step and, as they neared the next pool and looked back, both the lights from the previous room and the room ahead went out.

“What d’ we do!? What d’ we do!?” David was fully panic stricken and was crying uncontrollably, clutching at Rafael’s shoulders.

“Dios! Calm down, mi amigo! I think that he is behind us,” Rafael didn’t believe this necessarily but he needed to make a confident decision so as not to further alarm his friend. “Let’s find the next tunnel up, OK?” Rafael removed his friends hands from clutching him, and held them a moment. “Take a deep breath and try and stop crying. You need to be strong and stay focused if we are going to get out of here.”

David found courage in his friend’s sturdiness and took a couple deep breaths and found himself calming. “OK. OK. I’m OK.”

Rafael let his hands go. “Alright, let’s climb down into the pool. It’s too dark to see so let’s do it slowly.”

“OK.”

BLOOD OF THE SPRINGTIDE (PART V)

Its enormous form blocked the tunnel a few yards down, the light from the room barely illuminating its appearance. A robust plumage constructed of an assortment of contrasting feathers patched with straw and mud crowned its mammoth shape. Long, matted blonde hair sprouted from under its headdress and framed its irregularly shaped head. The left side of which was wrapped with a stitched piece of tan cloth; a large ocular lens fastened into it over the left eye. The rest of its face was obscured from David by shadow and aversion. Large black robes (embroidered with unidentifiable language and delineations stitched in a strand of an inconceivably darker color) flowed about its massive physique. It breathed heavily in raspy tones and raised its arms up, reaching out with torn, ragged gloved hands. David backed away hurriedly, opening his mouth in an attempt to shout, to warn his friends, but found he could only make high pitched squeaking noises. All his air escaped him, he couldn’t breathe and he began flailing wildly in the water until he forcefully backed into Tim.

“What the hell, David?!?” An annoyed Tim turned quickly, eyes fixated on his friend. “If you want to go ho…holy shit!” He took hold of David, who was having trouble keeping himself upright, and pulled him around through the water so that he was behind him. “Let’s get out of here guys!”

“What?” Rafael took a look over his shoulder and instantly beheld the array of colorful feathers atop the deep stygian darkness sliding from the tunnel and into the pool. It moved smoothly, preposterously slithering over the concrete and through the water. Rafael turned his head away, back toward Aaron, and placed his hand firmly into the middle of his back. “Don’t look back, just hurry toward the tunnel, fast!”

Aaron didn’t need to look, he could feel the fear engulf the room and he dove into the water and swam swiftly in the direction of the far right tunnel, Rafael trailing closely behind. David was trying to run through the water toward the middle tunnel, all sense having left him. He was in a state of extreme panic, and he splashed about in an attempt to row himself along faster. His chest heaved with heavy breaths that broke into sobs every other moment, his eyes watery, tears staining his face. Tim swooshed around in the water to follow his friend, and just before his eyes left the sight of that horrifying thing he noticed that it had submerged half as much more of its height under the water, its robes sinking with its form instead of billowing about. Of course this was implausible; the water just wasn’t that deep. As he faced the back of David he saw that Rafael and Aaron had reached the right tunnel and were scurrying up its passage, out of sight. David was having a hard time moving through the water and Tim could tell that all was not right with his friend. He moved to his side, grabbed him about his shoulders and began to pull him toward the tunnel opening. David had begun sobbing uncontrollably and was having a hard time finding his breath. Just as they reached the concrete flooring of the tunnel, Tim looked behind him, relieved for a moment to see that the figure had vanished. He readily surmised that it had either completely submerged beneath the water, or it had turned and went back down the tunnel. None the less he was taking no chances and, helping David gain his footing inside the passage, began to push/pull his apprehensive friend away from the pool and up the tunnel. There was dim light penetrating the pitch from what was most likely another pool room up ahead.

“Come on David, get it together! We’ve got to get out of here!” Tim shouted, the despair of their plight starting to sink in. He was pushing David forcibly toward the room, angry at his friend for breaking down into a state of inertness. A dark shadow rose up behind him, blocking the light from the previous room. Tim tried grabbing David to lunge him forward, but his head suddenly jerked back as his feet progressed.

“Ahhhh!” he cried out in pain. “David! Run, ru…” His hair was being pulled from his scalp and he wanted to take hold of the hand that had his hair and unclench it. He barely raised his arms from his waist when he felt the unnatural feeling of cold sharp steel at his neck. He felt the sharp bite as it pierced his flesh and carved its way within, a numb throbbing pain pounding into his head. He cried out in horror when he realized the steel was easily continuing to slice into him. Warm liquid began to run down his naked chest and although he could not look down he knew it was his blood. He cried out violently, a reaction to the appalling realization of what was happening to him. His cries turned to chokes as he slowly lost the ability to breath, the steel now slicing through his trachea with awful potency. A murky cloudiness engulfed him; his last vision was of David scurrying franticly up the waterway.

BLOOD OF THE SPRINGTIDE (PART IV)

David’s lips stretched about his teeth as he remembered his discovery. “No, I found it this way. The lock and chain were just gone.”

“Hey, hey, alright!” Rafael buoyed in the water with excitement. “Hey Aaron!” he shouted back.

“What?”

“The lock and chain are off the door! We can go into the tunnel now!”

“What? Really? Sweet!” He dove into the water and swam briskly toward his friends.

David opened the door and began wading through the clean, shallow, run-off. The aqueduct slanted slightly upward, and the water flowed down in a mellow current about a foot or so deep. A dim light could be seen about a quarter mile up ahead, creating a shadowy visibility in the otherwise pitch black air.

“You guys coming?”

“Hell yeah,” said Tim, following behind his friend. The other two were right behind him and the boys began to journey together up the tunnel. After a short time it opened up into a large cement room with a pool much like the one that they had just left, except this one was only about two feet deep. There were a couple of light fixtures fixed into the wall, one of either side. A cement ledge surrounded the pool, with a depression along the opening of the outgoing tunnel to allow the water to flow down at a tempered pace. Another tunnel opened into the room in front of them, built about a foot over the ledge. There was a metal door built into the left-hand wall. Rafael went along the ledge toward it and tried the metal door knob, it was locked.

“Locked,” he informed his friends. They began to explore the tunnel leading further into the hills. It was dark and shadowy with dim light coming again from about a quarter mile ahead.

“Another room?” asked Aaron.

“Must be,” said Tim. “What do you guys think?”

“It’s getting colder,” stated David, shivering a bit.

“Well this is run-off,” proclaimed Tim. “There’s no sun in here to heat it up. Come on David, when are we going to have this chance again? Someone from the city is going lock that gate up tomorrow.”

“You know it,” Rafael agreed. “One more pool and then we’ll turn around.”

“Yeah, one more David,” quipped Aaron. “You can take the cold just a bit longer. I mean we’re kinda used to it now and it ain’t that bad.”

“OK. OK, let’s check it out.”

They were half way up the tunnel when it suddenly rumbled with the sound of a large amount of water rushing nearby, as if a valve had been opened. Then there was the whoosh of air being sucked out of a room, a thunderous clap, followed by the choke and cry of a man sobbing, fading away into the distance. The boys stood frozen. It was impossible to tell where the actions creating the sounds had originated from, and the boys looked up and down the tunnel and saw nothing out of the ordinary.

“What the hell was that?” Aaron asked without expecting a reply, and he received none. They waited a few minutes in silence, wide eyed and attentive. Nothing stirred, and maybe it wasn’t anything to be too concerned about.

“Come on, let’s just check this last pool out and then we’ll go,” Tim urged his younger friends.

“What if that was some city worker in here and he locked the gate on the way out?” asked David.

“Nah, he would have seen our bikes and yelled up here. It probably came from further up. We’re only going a little ways more.” Somehow Tim’s logic made sense to them and they proceeded on their way, although quieter and with more caution. When they came to the lit opening they found that it was indeed another open room with ledge, door and pool. Except this time the room was larger and there were three tunnel archways along the opposite wall through which water flowed in. The pool here was about a foot deeper and the boys, except for David, waded out into it to splash around.

“Wow, this just keeps getting more interesting,” said Aaron. “Kinda want to keep exploring.”

David wasn’t having any of that. “No, let’s go,” he requested. He turned to head back down the tunnel and fear shot through him like winter wind whipping through a city street.

BLOOD OF THE SPRINGTIDE (PART III)

David shifted down gear, pushed the handlebars forward and let the seat slide under his butt as he turned into the uphill stretch. His lean tanned arms stretched forward as his hands gripped the bottom angle of the drop handlebars and, bending his head forward, his eyes focused on the road directly before him. He climbed, sweating, his legs churning the pedals. He smiled, imagining his poor BMX buddies trying to climb this hill on their inadequate bikes. Finally he made it to the cul-de-sac that ended any further paved roadway into the hills. He dismounted, breathing a bit heavily, and began walking his bike onto the lawn of a house situated at its far end. There never seemed to be anyone home when the boys came through here. They could be out, or reclusive, it was hard to say. Never a car, drapes always drawn, eerie silence.

He walked hurriedly through the gateless yard, as he passed the house he could not help but feel he was being watched. Looking up at the house immediately he could have sworn that a drape moved. He quickened his pace past the shed that marked the end of the home’s property: one could tell by the line separating where the grass was kept low from where it sprouted wildly in an abrupt manner. An odd feeling of deep apprehension overcame him, and he almost turned around to go home but decided it was his imagination and continued on. About thirty yards further, through the pine and fir trees, to where the cement lined “stream” slowly cascaded downhill toward the nearby reservoir. The man-made waterway was sunken into the hill, flowing on a cement pathway where the water ran only, at most, about two feet deep. He walked his bike along its grass lined edge a good distance uphill until he came to the broad archway built into its side. Sweat poured down his face as the sun beat on his skin. He let his bike drop to the soft grass, took off his shirt and used it to wipe the sweat from his face before laying it out upon his handlebars. Flicked off his sneakers, took off his socks and draped them on his bike, put his Keds back on, pulled up his shorts, and then jumped down into the “stream”.

From the vantage point of the waterway he could see within the archway to the pool underneath. There, the water was made to collect as it poured out of the underground tunnel beneath the hills, through a slightly rusted gate, into a walled area about four feet deep. About three and a half feet up on the front wall was a ledge about two feet wide that allowed the water to slowly spill out onto the small canal. There it went upon its journey toward the reservoir. David ran up toward the wall and leaped over, using his hands and arms upon the dam to brace his jump, into the pool. Cool, wet, relief literally washed over him. He dunked his head beneath the water and swam a moment underneath it, holding his breath. He surfaced feeling refreshed and splashed around for a time. Eventually he noticed something odd about the gate and swam over to investigate.

The gate, covering the entry to a tunnel that was built above the pool upon a concrete ledge, had an access door built on hinges so that maintenance crews could enter the aqueduct. It usually had a chain with an enormous padlock on it that kept it sealed off from intruders. He knew this because he and the boys had wanted to go investigating within the “cavern” the last time they were here. Today, the lock and chain were missing, nowhere to be seen. David climbed up upon the ledge and searched in the water around the door and found no sign of it, then he stood up, took a bar of the gate door within his grip and began to pull it open.

“Boo!”

David spun around in startled confusion, his back crashing into the gate and feet slipping off the ledge, to see Tim laughing at him from a few feet over. Rafael and Aaron were a further ways out standing on the outer ledge of the pool, laughing hysterically at their frightened friend.

“Did you see him jump?” Tim shouted back.

“Yeah, like a frightened little jackrabbit.” Aaron answered between guffaws.

“That’s what you get, ese.” Rafael tucked his longish black hair behind his ears. “You shoulda stayed with the gang.” He laughed some more and then dove underwater, surfaced and began swimming toward the gate.

David straightened himself. “Nice Tim. Thank you, guys.”

“Ah, just having a little fun at your expense.” Tim smiled and patted David on the back. His eyes widened then as he noticed that the lock and chain were no longer binding the door. “Wow, son, did you get the lock off the door?”