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SAUL HAS TURNED OFF THE FLASHLIGHT TO CONSERVE BATTERY POWER. Sitting in the dark on an old mine cart, he’s leaning his head against a cold, moist outcropping of rock, pondering his fate.
How the hell am I gonna get outta here? Why the fuck did I ever come down here in the first place? This was stupid as shit. Thank god Clarice refused to come with me.
The cave like structure that surrounds him, once an outcropping of the old Rudisill Gold Mine, seemingly stretches on for miles. He’s lost count of how much time has passed since he entered from the basement of St. Peter’s.
After resting for a few minutes longer, he flips the flashlight on and shines it in to the tunnel that lies ahead.
Alright. No time to get crazy here. Gotta keep moving and get my ass outta here before this battery dies or else I’ll never get out.
He forges on into the darkness with a quickened pace. Somewhere up ahead he hears what sounds like a man singing an old gospel song.
Wade in the water
Wade in the water
Wade in the water
God’s gonna trouble the water
If you don’t believe I’ve been redeemed
God’s gonna trouble the water
I want you to follow him on down to Jordan stream
I said my God’s gonna trouble the water
You know chilly water is dark and cold
I said my God’s gonna trouble the water
Come on let’s wade in the water
Wade in the water
Wade in the water
God’s gonna trouble the water
Saul stops dead in his tracks.
“Hello?” He calls out. “Is somebody there?” The singing stops abruptly and is followed by a clanging sound, as though someone is banging metal pots together.
Saul calls out again. “Hey! I need help. I’m stuck down here. Can you help me out?”
No response. The clanging sound continues as Saul runs in the direction of the noise. After several hundred feet through an upward incline and then a steep downward slope he rounds a bend and practically runs head first into an elderly white-haired African- American man. The man appears to have set up some sort of living quarters in the old mine, complete with an ancient cook stove, pots and pans, a few oil lanterns and a cot.
“Slow down there, boy. You might hurt yourself. Where you comin’ from in such a hurry?”
Saul is breathing heavily as he braces himself against the cave wall, peering cautiously at the man standing before him.
The old man’s dark skin is a stark contrast to his white hair and light green eyes. His somewhat dusty clothes look extremely old and hand made, but not in a bad state of disrepair.
Saul’s Latin features are clearly outlined in the light of the oil lamps.
“You some kinda Mexican or an Indian?” The man asks. “What you doin’ down here anyway?”
“I’m from Puerto Rico,” Saul replies between heavy breaths.
“You a long way from home, huh?”
“I live here in Charlotte now...have for a few years. I was exploring the tunnel off St. Peter’s and it collapsed in behind me. That’s how I ended up here...wherever here is. Do you know where I am? How did you get down here?”
“You need to sit down and catch your breath before you fall out. Go on over there and sit down on my cot while I get you some water.”
Saul complies readily, anxious to sit on something even remotely comfortable.
The man digs around in an old wooden box and retrieves a metal cup and an unusual cloth-covered bag with a shoulder strapand a cap at one end. He removes the cap, carefully pouring some of the contents into the cup, and then replaces the stopper on the bag, which he returns to the wooden box.
He turns to Saul and offers him the cup.
“Here you go. Drink this and try to rest for a little bit.”
“Thanks,” says Saul, gulping the water quickly. “It’s been a while since I’ve had anything to drink.”
“I can see that. May be best to sip that a little slower.”
Saul nods in agreement.
“Now about your questions, young man. You in the old Rudisill Gold Mine standin’ in front of Abraham Owens,” he says with a chuckle. “My two feet carried me down here probly just the same as yours did, I suppose. How long you been down here?”
“I’m not sure. A few days, maybe. Can you help me get out?”
“Maybe.”
“What do you mean maybe? Don’t you know the way out?”
“I reckon I do,” he says slowly. “Not many people know about this place. I’m not aimin’ for ‘em to find out, neither.”
“Just help me out and I won’t tell anybody about the place, I promise.”
“Well now, that’s all well and good but if you was curious enough to get yourself down here in the first place, how am I to know you ain’t gunn to go back up there and tell ‘em all about old Abe and where I stay at?”
“If you’re not gonna help me I guess I’ll have to figure it out myself.”
“Now hold on there,” the man says, appearing to grow somewhat agitated. “I didn’t say I wasn’t gunn to help you get out. I just have to figure out the right way to do it. You lay down there and rest while I do some thinking. In a few hours, I’ll figure out a way to get you back up top.”
“Alright,” Saul replies. “I am tired. It would be good to lay down for a while. But just a little while.”
CLARICE TURNS TO MARSHALL WITH A PANICKED EXPRESSION ON HER FACE.
“What’s wrong?” Marshall asks.
“I’m not sure exactly,” she says. The signal was really weak. It was Saul. He said something about being trapped at St. Peter’s.”
“Trapped where he lives? That doesn’t make any sense. Did he misplace his keys and he can’t get out?”
“I don’t think so. There’s a door in the back of the Setzler storage bin that leads to some kind of tunnel. We used to talk about exploring it a lot, but we never got around to it. When I last saw him he mentioned something about wanting to go there. That could be what he meant.”
Clarice rubs her forehead nervously. “Damn! If something has happened to him and our last interaction was this ugly crap about
that worker bee from the bank, I’m gonna be really pissed. We’ve gotta get over there now and see if he’s okay. Will you come with me?”
Marshall looks at Clarice skeptically.
“Are you sure he’s not just doing something to make you come running over there?”
“I don’t think so. He wouldn’t do something that desperate because he knows that would just make me even angrier. But if that’s the case, then I’ll know not to fall for it again, right? But if I don’t go over there, then I’m not going to be able to stop worrying about it, Marsh. Come with, okay?”
The uptown wind has blown a strand of Clarice’s wavy red tresses across her face. Using just his forefinger, Marshall pushes the clump of hair behind his friend’s ear.
“Alright, missy. Let’s go.”
The two head off quickly from the Presto in the direction of St. Peter’s. A few blocks later they’re standing out front as Clarice digs around in her bag for the extra key Saul had given her months before.
“Here it is. Let’s go in through the direct entrance on the side, though.”
Clarice fumbles with the keys and pushes the door open. To the left is the stairwell that leads to the basement. To the right is the entrance to Saul’s apartment.
“Let’s check out his place before we start digging around down there,” she says. “I’ve always thought it was a little creepy.”
“Me, too,” Marshall quips. “What with mummified teen-age bobby-soxers and all.”
“Thanks Marsh. I always like to be reminded of that.”
The air in Saul’s apartment is stale, as though no one’s been been around to check the thermostat or empty the garbage in a few days.
“Saul? You around here anywhere?”
“Didn’t you say he had a roommate and a dog?”
“Yeah...his name is Darryl...but I’ve never met him. He travels a lot. The dog! Her name is Sidney. Sidney! Come on girl.”
The Miniature Pinscher pokes her pointy snout out from the bedroom doorway slowly, spots Clarice and then prances in to the room, jumping up and down in front of her.
“Ohhh. Hey Sidney...Where’s your daddy? Where’s Saul, huh? Can you tell me?”
“It doesn’t look like there’s been anybody here in a while,” says Marshall. “I think we’d better go take a look at that basement tunnel you were talking about.”
“Come on,” Clarice says in a worried tone. “It’s this way.”
She snags a flashlight from the kitchen counter as she leads Marshall back through the entranceway and down the stairs to the dimly lit basement. She points it in the direction of the storage cage, exposing the open door at the back.
“Look,” Clarice says hopefully. “The door’s standing open. He’s probably in there somewhere.”
“Hang on a sec, Clarice. If he said he was trapped, this could be dangerous. Let me see the flashlight.”
Marshal pulls the cage door open and makes his way through the tunnel entrance. He only goes a few feet before he realizes exactly what Saul meant when he said he was trapped.
“Clarice, I think you better have a look at this.”
“Oh, my god. What are we going to do?”
ABRAHAM OWENS SHAKES SAUL LIGHTLY BY THE SHOULDERS.
“Come on boy. Time to get up and get out of here. You’ve rested enough.”
“Huh? You’re gonna help me out?”
“You want to get out of here, right?” Saul nods.
“You willing to do it my way?”
“Anything you say, Mr. Owens. Just help me get out of here as soon as possible.”
“Alright then. I’m gunn blindfold you, take you out and then away from here so you won’t know where to come back to. Stand up.”
“Are you sure about this? Do we really have to do it this way?”
“Young man, I am as sure as I can be. I don’t want nobody comin’ down here and messin’ things up for me. I got it just the way I like it down here. Now trust me, son. Ain’t no harm gunn come to you. Just lemme put this cloth over to your eyes.”
Abraham takes a long strip of weathered burlap and ties it around Saul’s head. He then takes another and ties Saul’s hands in front of him.
“We didn’t talk about this part,” Saul says in protest. “What the fuck are you doing?”
“Watch your mouth. I don’t wanna hear that kind of talk.”
“I don’t want to be tied up, either.”
“It’s just in case you get any ideas about takin’ off the blindfold. I’m not gunn to hurt you. I tied your hands in front so you can hold on to mine as I lead you out from here. You red to go?
“Umm...yeah.”
Saul can feel Abraham leading him through what seems like a mile or more of passageways, and then up another steep incline. Eventually he feels cold wind blowing across his face.
“We’re out! Mr. Owens, are we out?”
“Hush up, boy. There’s people around here that might here you. You out. We gunn to walk a while and then I’m gunn to take my leave of you. After I’ve been gone about five minutes take off your blindfold and then head on home.”
Saul hears gravel crunching underneath his feet and dry grass as Abraham leads him to his destination. Finally they come to a stop and Abraham positions Saul on a roadside bus stop bench. He reaches down to untie Saul’s hands.
“I’m trusting you on this one boy. Wait five minutes and then take off your blindfold. Best to you, young man. Take care of yourself.”
“Thanks, Mr. Owens.”
Saul waits as he hears the sound of Abraham’s steps disappearing into the distance. When he can’t hear them anymore, he reaches up and pulls off the blindfold.
Surveying the area around him, he recognizes it as part of the lesser-developed section of South End. He fishes in his pants pocket for his cell phone and immediately calls Clarice.
“Clarice? I’ve missed you so much. Baby, I know you’ve been mad at me -- but can you come and get me? I’m at the corner of Mint Street and Bland. I don’t know exactly how I got here, but what a story I have to tell you.”
Suddenly Saul’s phone goes dead. In the distance he sees a bright flash of bluish light off to the east.
~David Moore
* A mixture of fact and fiction, Elmwood Park is a serial exclusive to Uptown.
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