Skeletal (26 page)

Then footsteps moved overhead again. Pacing the floor.

So at least three.

I waited to see if the engine on the car would start. If the other two would drive away. But there was nothing to indicate the car was starting up.

There were shuffling sounds overhead. The sounds of items being moved. Then footsteps again, that crossed the floor and stopped right about the point that the manhole cover was.

Silence.

It stretched out, and I turned to seek out the comforting glint of reflection off the Grey Man’s eyes. He was staring straight back at me.

The manhole cover lifted.

My whole body tensed. I felt the flow of blood through my arteries, my veins, my capillaries. My muscles grew fat on adrenalin and poised ready to run.

A torch was shone down into the hole. I tried to lay as flat as I possibly could. Think thin, think thin.

‘Is there anyone down there?’

The voice sounded uninterested. Not expecting a response.

There was a shuffle of movement, and then a hand came down through the hole. It hit the ground and stretched out. The torch moved lower down in the other hand. And then a head appeared.

I stared in horror at the man. Surely he could see me. The torch seemed to be aimed straight at me.

I closed my eyes so he wouldn’t see the whites bouncing torchlight back at him, and waited for the moment of discovery.

And waited.

I heard another person jump back up onto the flooring and join the one shining the torch.

‘Anything.’

‘Nah. I don’t think anyone’s been down here for a while. Why would you?’

The torchlight withdrew, and I opened my eyes; its image still dancing on my retinas. The manhole cover scraped back into position.

‘There’s a whole lot of kit back here though. Better safe than sorry.’ The voices were muffled by the floor, but still clear in the absence of other sounds.

There was more knocking, scraping, footsteps.

I started to relax. Whatever they were here for, it wasn’t me. And it wasn’t the folder. And it wasn’t the Grey Man.

Just a random check of an abandoned building.

I thought of the small pile of discarded clothing, empty beercans, empty food wrappers, on the floor above. Obviously some kids used this as party central, though whether that was yesterday or a year ago it’d be hard to pick.

These guys were just checking it out. Probably would put up some signs for the kids to ignore in future.

I relaxed back into the cold earth again. I stretched my arms and legs, making myself long, in order to release the tension.

A coincidence. That’s all it was. Pure coincidence.

And a benefit. If the goons did drop by they’d be frightened off by these men. We were safe as long as they were stepping about above. Probably safe even when they left.

They couldn’t be council workers or they’d have knocked off work by now. I wondered if they were home-owners from further afield; the property owners of this doomed sub-division; or concerned parents whose children had left the mess above.

I crawled closer to the Grey Man. I tapped him on the shoulder, about to ask him whether we could move closer to the grate so there was more light, and then the footsteps came close to the manhole cover again.

There was the sound of a person kneeling. The scrape as he moved something into position.

And then the hammering as he drove nails into the manhole. Nailing it shut.

Daina 1994

Daina shouted the first time she saw the man on the TV. Then she remembered and she switched to another channel before her mother came running to see what it was. She waited until she’d gone back into the kitchen before she changed back, but by that stage he was gone.

She saw him again though. She saw him and her mother saw him too. He was on the news. He was on the news talking about the body of a man who’d been found in a remote area on the road to Greymouth. Near a lake, and a picnic area.

Her mother shut off the television the first time, but he showed up again and again. Daina snuck a paper out of the rubbish one day, while her mother was in her bedroom sleeping, and she found an article about him. The man she’d seen fall from the sky was a bad man. He’d misled a whole lot of people. He’d pretended that he’d invented something he hadn’t. It was wrong to lie. If you did it enough, you went to Hell.

It was odd that they described the man who fell from the sky as a liar, but no one said anything about the man in the grey suit. He was a liar too. A big one. He told everyone that the man died in a plane crash.

But Daina knew he hadn’t. She knew it and her mother knew it too. She wasn’t about to say anything though. She didn’t want him to come back.

She knew because he smelled the same way that her rabbit smelt when he didn’t wake up one morning. Not the morning he hadn’t woken up, but by a week later when she thought to tell someone else that he hadn’t. He’d smelled ripe and he’d been bloated.

Daina thought that the man must have been dead for that long too. He’d smelt even worse that the rabbit had, though whether that was because he’d been dead longer or because he was bigger, she didn’t know.

She even checked it out with her teacher. She didn’t let on that she was asking because of the plane crash man. She knew enough to know that might get back to her mother and she wasn’t going to let that happen. No. She asked about some meat instead. Not a person, just meat. Asked her teacher if meat smelled so bad when it was left out in the sun because it was dead. When she said yes, that meat goes off if it’s not kept in the refrigerator Daina asked her if people go off too. When they’re dead. Do they need to be kept in a fridge as well?

Her teacher had screwed up her nose and given her a look. Daina knew that look well. It was when you asked a question that it was perfectly fine for another adult to ask but wasn’t okay for a kid. Especially a little kid. She got that look a lot.

But her teacher had said yes. She’d also gone on to say a lot more about how children shouldn’t be thinking about those sorts of things, but Daina tuned her out.

So he’d been dead before he fell out of the plane. Maybe dead a long time. And he hadn’t died in a plane crash because the plane had crashed a long time later. The plane had taken so long to crash that Daina and her mother had managed to get into and then out of trouble in the gap.

So if the people on the telly were saying that the dead man was a liar, but not saying that the grey man wasn’t, then maybe they had it all wrong. Maybe the dead man told the truth, and everything else was a lie.

There were signs and symbols in some of the stuff that they’d written about him. Signs and symbols that were somehow attached to the work that was meant to be a lie. That might not be a lie.

Signs and symbols that after a while Daina could have drawn in her sleep.

It was hard to hide her interest from her mother. One night she snuck into Daina’s room when she was already in bed. In bed with her wool blanket tucked up tight against her chin. It made her skin itchy where it touched, but if she didn’t pull it all the way up the cold would get in. And if the cold could get in, the monsters could get in.

Her mother sat on the edge of her bed. She leaned her head down until Daina could inhale the weird smell that she had. It was sharp but sweet. It made her nose crunch up, but also made her breathe in deep. It was like car exhaust that way.

‘You’ve been watching the news.’ She smoothed the cover with her hand, the edge of her long fingernails scraping Daina’s chin. ‘I don’t think you should do that any more.’

Daina squirmed deeper under cover. She didn’t want to defy her mother. Up till now it had been okay because she hadn’t said anything directly about it.

‘I like the news. I like to see the weather.’

‘You haven’t been watching it for the weather. You can switch on the television for the weather, but nothing else. I don’t want you watching.’

She patted the blankets, and pushed herself upright again.

Daina could feel her mother’s weight start to shift off her buttocks as she began to stand.

‘I’m not telling anyone about it. That was the agreement and I haven’t broken it.’

The outburst over her defiance left, and she snuggled even deeper into her bedclothes as she felt her mother fully sit again. Adults only like it when adults stand up for themselves. They don’t like it when children do.

‘You aren’t good at keeping things to yourself, Daina. I don’t want you watching those shows any more. That’s it.’

‘I won’t tell anyone.’

‘And you won’t ask your teacher inappropriate questions? Daina?’

‘Well, can I ask you then? You already know. Can I ask you about things?’

‘What things?’

‘Why are they saying he died in the crash? Why do they keep saying his work is rubbish? Why aren’t they finding out what really happened?’

‘He did die in the crash. His work was rubbish. That is what really happened.’ She leaned over and kissed Daina on her forehead. Then pecked all the way from the top of her head to the end of her chin.

Daina giggled, but all the time she thought how similar her mother’s answers were to
I’ll tell you when you’re older.

‘Now promise me now. You’re not allowed to tell
anyone.
’

‘I promise.’

‘And you’re not to watch anything on the news except the weather.’

‘I won’t.’

‘And if you ask your teacher another question like you did today, when you thought you were being clever and I wouldn’t find out. You ask
anyone
a question like that and there’s a good chance you’ll come home and find me dead. We only get one warning, okay?’

Daina stared at her mother. She tried to move her mouth to answer, but her vocal cords tangled so there was no sound. Her skin rose in tiny bumps all over. The blanket felt thinner than ever.

Her mother gripped her shoulder and shook her. ‘Do you understand me?’

Daina nodded.

‘Tell me.’

‘I understand.’

‘And you don’t talk to anyone, you don’t ask anyone, you don’t tell anyone. Okay?’

Daina nodded, ‘I understand.’

‘Good girl.’ She bent over and kissed Daina on her cheek, and briefly rested her own against hers. Then she stood and shook out the crinkles on the front of her skirt. ‘You just forget all about this, and then we’ll both be fine.’

Daina stared straight ahead. Even when her mother put the light out, she stared straight into the darkness.

There’s a good chance you’ll come home and find me dead.

Daina could see herself turning the handle. Coming through into the kitchen, full of the joy of release from the classroom. To find her mother with a hole in her from a gunshot. A hole in her belly. A hole in her chest. A hole in her head.

It was too much emotion. Daina tried to cry it out, that usually worked. But this was too big to fit into tiny little tears. It sat like a lump on her chest. It made it hard to breathe.

Coming home to find her mother dead and knowing it was her fault!

A steady pounding started in her head. Daina no longer saw darkness, there were flashes of light; there was the pulse of blood through the small vessels in her eyes.

A thump reverberated in the black. The sound of the man falling to earth. A thump immediately absorbed by the pulsing, moving, flashing of the night.

Her brain was too small to hold all of it in. The thoughts hurt to keep thinking, and then Daina imagined them growing too big for her brain to hold. They leaked out of her ears and into the pillow. They leaked from the corners of her eyes, slid down her cheeks, and were absorbed by her hair.

The thoughts and the memories and the questions flowed out of her and were whisked away by the night.

When her head was empty, the pillow was wet with the tears that came at last, and Daina fell into a long, deep sleep.

Empty.

***

Daina 2004

At first I was frozen by the sound. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t cry out. And then I rolled over onto my front, and scrambled for the manhole.

The Grey Man leapt on me, holding a hand on my mouth, gripping my arms to my sides.

The hammering stopped as I tried to free myself in the tomb underneath, and I could hear the men moving away.

Only when the car engine turned over, and they drove away, did he let me go.

‘What’re you doing?’ I yelled at him. I crawled over to the manhole, and tried to lever the cover up with my shoulders. It wouldn’t budge.

‘Quiet. They might come back.’

I screamed as loudly as I could. The Grey Man reached for me again, but I kicked back at him.

‘What does it matter?’ I yelled. ‘They weren’t the ones after us. They were just some random guys.’

‘Of course they’re after us. They’re all after us. You know this.’

I ignored him, turned onto my back and started to kick up at the cover. It gave me more leverage, but I still couldn’t get it to move. I started to sob with frustration and fear.

‘Keep it down. Keep quiet,’ the Grey Man gestured with his palm down. ‘Come away from there.’

I kicked again. And again. And then kicked so hard that the reverberation ran all the way up my spine and I stilled in shock.

My legs fell to the ground. I was crying. My tears falling silently now. I wanted to stop. The congestion they caused clogged up my airways. It felt harder and harder to breathe.

I rolled onto my front again. Using my elbows I hitched my way to the wall brace, and then further through to the outer wall. There was still scraps of metal, this time they dug deep into my skin, into my flesh. I noticed them but I didn’t care.

The claustrophobia was on me. Restricting my vision. Swelling my windpipe.

‘You shouldn’t have poked your nose in. You shouldn’t have stolen those papers. You got Mr Fa’eamoa killed. You’ll get yourself killed.
You’ll get your mum killed.
’

I tried to scrape at the sides of the foundations. Trying to slip my fingers between the planks of wood so I could pull.

I couldn’t fit them through. I couldn’t get a grip.

In the complete blank of panic I scraped at the wood with my fingernails trying to dig my way free. Shrieking. Screaming. Shouting.

Splinters dug beneath my nails. My fingertips grew raw, and then bloody. I gave up when the panic receded enough to feel the pain.

I wiped my face clean. I rolled onto my back and watched the light filtering through the breaks in the wood play on the floorboards above. And I finally registered what the Grey Man had said.

‘They won’t hurt my mother. I only did this stuff because you asked me too. I haven’t told anybody anything.’

He didn’t answer, and I crawled slowly back to look through the wall frame to where he was sitting.

Had been sitting. There was nobody there.

***

I worked my way around the foundations. Trying to find a gap. Trying to find a break. Trying to find a way out.

The grate that I’d thought previously I’d be able to push out in order to escape wouldn’t budge. It was fixed into the concrete base as firmly as the wooden struts were. I tried to kick it out nevertheless, but I grew so exhausted from the effort that I passed out.

I don’t know how long I was out, but it must have been hours and hours. The light coming in from outside wasn’t from moonlight, it was from the sun. I’d spent the night in a panic or unconscious. Great.

With the new day came new hope. I made my way back to the manhole again. I waited underneath until the light was illuminating as much as I thought it would, and then I examined it in detail.

It didn’t take long until my neck and back were screaming. I was propped on my hands and my head was tilted back to see the cover. The posture was torture. I dropped back down to the ground again and stretched my back out until it clicked.

There wasn’t any light coming from around the edges. I could feel them with my fingers but they were flush.

If I’d been above I could’ve got more leverage. Using gravity and angles to gain force. From below my options were limited. Even kicking at it I couldn’t get a good angle. There wasn’t enough room for me to draw my legs back to gain force enough to stand a chance of popping the nails free.

I tried though.