William Meikle - The Hole

Charlie handed him another JD and sucked smoke before answering.

“I saw plenty of things back in ‘Nam I ain’t never gonna forget,” he said. “Saw plenty of men, good and bad, die horrible, messy deaths. And not one of them ever came back. Packets of blood and shit; that’s all we are, son. Ain’t no sense in thinking otherwise.”

Fred didn’t reply. The events of the night were starting to fade as the booze finally took hold, but he couldn’t allow himself to give in to its seduction, not tonight.

Not when I ain’t got nowhere to go when the bar closes.

Bill Wozniak arrived some time later. He walked straight over to Fred and Charlie. Fred winced and kept his head down. The sheriff had been the one that took the call the night of Fred’s accident. The big man had cut Fred a break that night and helped out with some creative writing of the official report. That was enough to keep him out of jail, but Fred still felt uncomfortable around the officer, fearing that the favor might be called in at any moment.

“You sober, Charlie?” the sheriff said. “I need a bus driver and we’re coming up short.”

“Sure thing,” Charlie said, tried to stand and staggered into Fred. The sheriff raised an eyebrow. Charlie straightened up.

“I stood up a mite too fast there, Sheriff. But I’ll be fine.”

The older man threw a mock salute, and staggered slightly again.

The sheriff sighed, but handed Charlie a bundle of heavy keys.

“These are Joe’s for his school bus,” he said. “We ain’t found Joe.”

He didn’t say any more, but Fred saw it in his eyes. Joe was another one who he wouldn’t be seeing again anytime soon.

Charlie took the keys, dropped them, and almost fell on his face trying to pick them up.

“I got no right letting you near a vehicle in that state,” the sheriff said. “But this is an emergency. Get some coffee in you, fast. We’re moving out and taking the wounded and the kids first. Bring her to the church hall in twenty. And Fred?”

Fred looked up.

“I’m trusting you to make sure he gets that bus down to where it’s needed. Okay?”

Fred nodded, although the last thing he felt like doing was heading out into the dark.

Looks like that favor has just been called in.

Main Street was as busy as he’d ever seen it. Several of the stores were open for business, and people with laden trolleys filled cars and pickups. It looked like folks were preparing for the apocalypse.

And maybe that ain’t too far from the truth of the matter.

Even with all the commotion in and around the stores, it was hard to imagine the scale of the tragedy that had unfolded, and might still be ongoing, over at the trailer park. But all Fred had to do was look in the faces of the folks on the street to see that this was a situation that looked to get a lot worse before it got better.

Charlie slugged down coffee from a travelling mug and passed it to Fred. Tony had made it as strong as he could get it, and Fred felt his heart rate go up a notch as it hit his system. The fresh air threatened to go to his head, but he remembered the look he’d got from Big Bill.

I’m trusting you .

Tonight wasn’t the night to be testing the limits of the sheriff’s faith in him. He took Charlie by the arm and started to frog-march him up the road. They left Main Street and headed up the hill towards the spot where Joe normally parked his bus. Several families in the street were in the process of packing belongings into pickups, but not as many as Fred might have expected. Many of the houses were quiet and dark, either because the inhabitants had already moved on or, as Fred believed, they had stuck their heads in the sand and were refusing to see what was happening on the other side of town. It was something he’d got used to over the years of living here. A lot of folks in this area could give ostriches lessons in sticking their heads in the sand. Fred didn’t get over this way much; too heady for his liking, with manicured lawns, trimmed hedges and perfectly painted porches. It made his trailer look like what it had been—little more than a shed with a bed—and it reminded him how far down he’d fallen in the few short years since leaving a home remarkably like the ones he now walked past with eyes averted.

Thinking of the trailer threatened to revive images from earlier in the evening. He pushed them down and concentrated on getting Charlie where he needed to go.

“Not far now,” Charlie said, as if trying to convince them to keep going. The older man staggered again, and Fred had to take his weight to stop him from falling. Fred wasn’t sure either of them was in any way capable of driving a bus.

At least there’s not much traffic to contend with.

As if in reply to his thoughts, the radio in a parked truck at the curbside crackled into life.

“Fred is. Fred is dead.”

Charlie looked confused.

“Did you hear that?”

Fred didn’t reply. Nothing he could say would help. Instead he walked faster, half dragging Charlie up the road. As they walked away from the pickup the radio got louder to compensate, the repeated phrase following them all the length of the hill.

“Fred is. Fred is dead.”

After Bill left the hall, Janet was kept busy getting the wounded ready to travel. She thought she’d got round to everyone when a well-known voice called out.

“Doctor, I’ve been waiting for hours here.”

Ellen Simmons sat on the far side of the hall. A bandage around her skull was already seeping red, but the obvious blow to the head hadn’t made the woman any quieter… or improved her disposition.

“About time too,” she said when Janet walked over to check on her. “I would have thought, what with being a patient of long standing, you might have got to me sooner. Especially before those people.”

I’m afraid to ask .

“What people would those be?” Janet said, deliberately keeping her tone neutral. Ellen Simmons wasn’t so circumspect. She waved an arm to include most of the folks in front of her in the hall.

“You know very well,” she said, loud enough for most of those present to hear her. “Trailer trash. I wouldn’t be surprised if they weren’t the cause of all this trouble in the first place. I’ve told the sheriff often enough.”

Two men nearby looked ready to take offence, but Janet managed to get them to sit still by giving them a stern look.

“Maybe you should keep your voice down, Ellen,” she said. “Passions are running high tonight.”

“That’s exactly what I’m talking about,” the older woman replied, as loud as ever. “Passions are always running high down in the trailers. They’re at it like rabbits, all the time. I saw that Fred Grant walking his latest whore just this evening, not long before it all started. What with them and the biker gang it’s no surprise the town’s in trouble.”

Biker gang? Again, I’m afraid to ask.

She was saved from having to answer. One of the two men did indeed take offense this time.

“What are you on about, you old bat? Ain’t no biker gangs around here. If there were, I’m sure they’d have paid you a visit personally by now.”

“Bats. That’s what they were,” another voice shouted before anyone else could speak. “Giant bats. I saw one of them, clear as day.”

“Don’t be stupid. Weren’t no bats. It was stealth fighters. Goddamned government experiment gone wrong.”

Then everyone in the place was shouting. Everything and anything was invoked as the cause of the night’s disaster, from witches to demons, Ruskies to UFO, HAARP to FEMA.