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erictankel · 3 years

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New Family

The water tower loomed over the edge of town. My whole life I’d wanted to climb it. I was two weeks away from my fourteenth birthday and it was time. The ladder stretched a hundred and fifty feet straight up. At the top a narrow platform encircled the bulbous cylindrical tank. We scaled rung after rung after rung. I imagined we were climbing up the stem of a giant mushroom. Neither of us took a break or looked down. As I crested the top of the ladder the blood in my arms felt like battery acid. Corey was close behind.

“I can’t believe you made me do this. This is so dumb…so freaking dumb”

“Do you see this shit, Corey? You can see for thirty miles.”

Corey clung to the railing and knelt against the platform. He was trembling and breathing heavy. Adrenaline looked bad on him. My heart pushed globs of blood through my head. Every molecule in my body was awake. I felt the sort of smile smeared across my face that my dad called a shit eating grin. I had done it. We had done it.

The sun was beginning to nestle behind the trees and it cast long distorted shadows across the landscape. I could see the middle school. I could see the park where I made out with Katie McMenamin. I could see blue and red lights flashing in the distance.

“Corey, we might have a problem.”

“No shit, Haydn. We’re stuck a thousand feet in the air. I’m seriously about to lose it.”

“We may have another problem.”

Two police cars, a firetruck, and an ambulance appeared in the field beneath the tower. A dozen uniformed men converged at the bottom of the ladder. One of the cops held a bullhorn that he pointed in the air.

“Okay boys, don’t try to climb down on your own. We’re sending fire rescue up there to get you.”

Two firemen in heavy yellow coveralls started their assent.

“I told you this was a bad idea. Now we’re getting arrested. My mom is gonna murder me.”

“Just be cool. Maybe they’ll let us go.”

I paced the platform taking in the sunset and trying to think of some excuse, some explanation for why we were up there.

We looked down and watched the helmets get closer and closer. The fire fighters joined us on our perch. They didn’t say much. They fit us into climbing harnesses and attached us to a rope. They smelled like nylon and aftershave. Corey and I climbed down the ladder sandwiched between them.

The cops separated us when we got to the bottom. I should have known they would. It wasn’t like we needed to keep our stories straight. There was no story. We climbed up there because we wanted to…well, because I wanted to. I hoped Corey wasn’t going to throw me under the bus.

“So just what the hell were you boys thinking?”

I shrugged.

“You both could have fallen and died. How would your parents feel if you fell and died?”

“Sad?”

“You’re damn right they’d be sad. You know I could charge you both with criminal trespass? With disorderly conduct?”

“Yessir.”

He shook his head and beckoned for the other cop. Corey walked behind him with his eyes trained at the ground.

“So here’s what we’re gonna do. I’m taking down both your names. I’m writing them in my little black book. And if you ever disturb the peace again I’ll make sure you’re prosecuted the fullest extent of the law.”

Corey and I nodded our heads. “Yessir. Thank you sir.”

He pointed toward the road. “Now go on. Go home. And don’t do drugs. And stay in school.”

We walked away slowly at first, careful not to look over our shoulders. Then our pace quickened. Soon we were sprinting and laughing our way back to my house.

I was always the adventuresome one. It started when I learned to crawl. Mom would put me down on the carpet and the next thing she knew I was gone. I was four when I learned to ride a bike. When I was six I snuck out of the neighborhood and rode into town. I needed to know how it felt to ride down that hill. I needed to know how the world looked over the handlebars of my bike.

I met Corey the first day of kindergarten. He already knew the alphabet and how to do math. He was the smartest kid in class, maybe the school. Plus, he was nice. He shared his Cheetos with me at snack and I decided he was my best friend. He was the Lewis to my Clark.

We both agreed that eighth grade was the last year we’d go trick or treating. High schoolers didn’t care about costumes and candy. But if this was going to be our last real Halloween, we had to do it big. Corey and I got ready at my house. I dressed as Kenny from Southpark and he was Neo from the Matrix. We’d considered getting corresponding costumes, but decided against it. We didn’t want to look like try-hards.

We were meeting some other kids in the cul-de-sac at 7:30. We wanted our run to be after all the little kids were finished. As we walked down the street Corey’s leather trench coat billowed in the wind and his replica machine guns glinted in the moonlight. I wished I would have just gone as Morpheus like I really wanted to.

Nick, Derek, and Haley were standing in the cul-de-sac holding empty pillowcases. Their costumes were underwhelming. A cheap mask, some fake blood and vampire teeth, and a limp attempt at Laura Croft from Tomb Raider. We began our journey through the neighborhood starting at old man Turner’s house. His house smelled like fabric softener and cat pee, but he always handed out king size.

The homes in my neighborhood were on big lots, which meant long driveways and tired legs. We were a half hour in and our pillowcases were still light. As we trudged along we found ourselves standing at the dilapidated mailbox of 17 McCarthy Drive. The abandoned house. Derek pointed down the dark overgrown driveway. “Who’s gonna do it this year?”

“Not me.” Haley shook her head.

Nick dug through his bag looking for a peanut butter cup. “Don’t look at me. I did it last year.”

There was a neighborhood tradition that dated back before any of us were born. Every Halloween one bold and fearless trick or treater had to run down the driveway of 17 McCarthy and knock on the big victorian door. I’d heard the stories since I was little. We all had. From what I could piece together the house bad been abandoned since the mid60s. A family had lived there. A husband, a wife, and two twin girls. One December day they vanished. They left everything behind and disappeared.

I loved adventure and I liked trespassing too, but I had my limits. The abandoned house scared me. It gave me that tingle in the back of my neck and a sick feeling in my stomach. Once when I was eleven I’d run down the driveway on a summer day and looked through the living room window. I’d swirled the palm of my hand around on the glass to make a portal through the dust and grime. Inside I saw what was left of a Christmas tree surrounded by wrapped presents. There was a record player with a big funnel for a speaker. Left on the oriental rug was a game of gin rummy that seemed to have been interrupted and set down on the floor. The playing cards were curled at the edges and browned by the passing of time. I could almost see the ghosts of the two girls playing there.

My family moved to the neighborhood in 1986 when I was one. It was the twentieth anniversary of their disappearance. My mom said the first thing all our new neighbors wanted to talk about was 17 McCarthy Drive. Back then many of the them remembered the family and still thought of them fondly. They wondered if they would ever return or if anyone would find the bodies. There had been an investigation. The police and the FBI spent months looking, but found nothing.

“Looks like it’s Hadyn and Corey then.” Nick nudged me toward the driveway. I looked at Corey. “Will you come with me?”

He cocked his toy gun. “Guess I don’t have a choice.”

“This is why you’re my best friend.”

We lined up like track stars at the edge of the street. Corey put his gun in the air and pulled the trigger. We sprinted down the driveway through the tall grass. The farther we went, the more the trees arched over us shielding the moonlit sky. The darkness was so thick it was hard to breath. The driveway ran at least the length of a football field. By the time we made it to the front porch our view of the street was obscured by vegetation and shadow. I reached out and locked arms with Corey and we walked up the stairs. Just as we reached out in unison to pound the door a sound echoed through the woods. It was so loud that it brought me to my knees and knocked all the air out of my lungs. We turned and stumbled down the porch steps. A massive black bird lay in front of the house, its twisted and contorted body vibrating in a pile of broken glass. It must have crashed into the front window going full speed.

“What in the ever loving name of fuck.” Corey put his hands on the back of his head and spun around. “Let’s go.”

We ran back to the street and told them what had happened. They’d heard the crash too, but didn’t believe our story.

Haley shook her head. “You guys threw a rock through the window or something. There was no bird.”

We finished our march through the neighborhood and ended the night with bulging pillowcases. It was a good haul, but it felt bittersweet. I wasn’t ready to let go of trick or treating or of being a kid.

Days passed and candy supplies dwindled. My dad was burning a pile of leaves in the backyard, It sent pitch black smoke into the sky. It was Saturday afternoon. Corey and I lay under the apple tree next to my house staring up through the naked branches.

“You know what just occurred to me?”

“What’s that?”

“Remember the bird that broke the window at the abandoned house?” “Yeah.”

“Well, we could climb in through that broken window. And we could explore. And maybe we would solve the mystery. And maybe then they’d put us on the six o’clock news.”

“I’m good.”

I pulled myself up to my feet. “No, seriously. We can do this. It’s still light outside. It’s not that scary. And we’d be the first people to go inside since the police in 1966. It’s like a giant freaking time capsule in there.”

“This is just like when you tried to convince me to climb the water tower. Is this one of those times when you won’t take no for an answer?”

“Yep. Definitely one of those times.”

I walked down the street ahead of Corey. I couldn’t slow my pace. It felt like the vail of fear that was draped over of the abandoned house for my entire life had lifted. We stomped up the driveway. The golden afternoon light shimmered and filtered through the trees.

The bird was gone, probably eaten by a vulture or a fox. Shards of broken glass littered the ground beneath the big living room window. I brushed the glass aside with the sleeve of my jacket and hoisted myself inside. Corey followed. For a while we stood there quietly looking. It was magnificent and surreal. Dark green paint peeled and chipped off the walls. Ornate wood trim bordered the ceiling and the doorways. Tattered velvet curtains shifted back and forth with the breeze.

We stayed together moving from room to room. The kitchen table was set with four used cereal bowls, the spoons still sticking out over the rims. On the counter sat an ancient looking box of breakfast cereal called Puffa Puffa Rice. We were careful not disrupt anything. It wasn’t so much that we shouldn’t be there. The bird had invited us in. It felt like the privilege of entering the house brought some deep responsibility.

The walls around the grand staircase were covered in framed photographs of the twins. There were baby portraits and pictures of the girls wearing matching outfits on the first day of school. Near the top of the stairs there was a photo from the year they disappeared. They wore yellow sun dresses. They had long straight hair down to their waists. They looked like the girls in our class.

We wandered around upstairs. I picked up a porcelain statue or Jesus. Where the base of the statue had touched the table the dark lacquered wood shown through surrounded by a thick membrane of dust. We explored separately, but were careful not to wander too far from one another. I ventured to the third floor and opened a door at the end of the hallway. There was a stained glass window at the far wall and the ceiling slanted inward at an awkward angle. The room was empty except for a wooden box in the middle of the floor.

I knelt down in front of it and lifted the lid. Inside there were dozens of artifacts. I sifted through them carefully. A black and white photograph that showed a man digging a large hole in the woods. A box of .38 caliber bullets. A leather pouch full of silver dollars. A large buck knife with a bone handle. A book called Survival Under Atomic Attack. An Argus 35mm camera. Iodine tablets. A Cartier wrist watch.

“Hey Corey, you gotta come see this.”

He trotted up the stairs and down the hallway. “Hey Hardy boy, did you find a clue.”

“Personally, I think I’m more of a Nancy Drew, but yeah. I may have found some clues.”

I pulled out the bullets. “Maybe these go to the gun that the husband used to kill his family? Or maybe this gnarly knife is the murder weapon?”

“Unlikely dude, the authorities must have investigated everything in the house.”

“But maybe they missed something? I think I’m gonna take this box home and really go through it. If it’s not clues it’s really cool stuff. Look at this watch.”

“Haydn, I rarely tell you this, but you can’t fucking do that.”

“Dude, come on. It’s just a box of crap that’s been sitting here for like four decades.”

“I agreed to come in here, but I don’t agree to stealing anything. That’s bad juju. It’s wrong to take anything from this place. Seriously. Put the box down right now.”

I put the box back down in the center of the room. The sun was setting and the light had turned from gold to grey. This time Corey led. I followed him down the stairs and out the living room window. I followed him down the street and back to my house. After dinner his mom came and picked him up.

I couldn’t sleep. I stared at the ceiling thinking about the house. Thinking about the mystery. Thinking about that box. I wanted it. There was valuable stuff in there. What made Corey the authority on what was right and wrong. Bad juju? What even was that? And besides, maybe something in there really was an important piece of the puzzle. I was going back to get that box. And I was doing it alone.

Sunday morning I slept in. Corey and I had planned to hang out in the afternoon. I called him from my parent’s bedroom. “Hey man, not really feeling like hanging today. I’m gonna catch up on some homework.”

“Seriously? Since when do you care about homework?”

“Okay. Okay. The truth is I’m cheating on you with another best friend. His name is Cody and he’s way chiller than you. And he’s 16 and has a car.”

“Very funny, Haydn. Call me if you change your mind and wanna do something.”

I dumped the textbooks out of my schoolbag and onto the floor of my bedroom. The abandoned house was calling. I went out the side door to avoid talking to my parents and heading for the box. If I didn’t take it someone else would. Now that the window was broken it was only a matter of time before the other neighborhood kids went inside. Then it would be a free for all. I climbed in the window and went straight to the third floor. I closed the latch on the front of the box and slid it into my JanSport. The backpack barely zipped around it.

Back in my bedroom I carefully emptied the contents of the box onto my desk. I catalogued the items into two piles. Things that were awesome and I would treasure forever. And things that were weird and I would probably throw in the garbage. Once the box was empty I went to shove it on the top shelf of my closet. As I lifted it I heard a metal object slide across the bottom. I opened the lid and looked inside. It was empty. I shook it back and forth and heard the noise again. I grabbed for my new knife and pried at the edges of the floor of the box. A false bottom lifted. My mouth went dry and my heart pounded in my chest. I tore out the panel to reveal what was underneath.

A poster sized piece of thick blue paper and a strange brass key. I spread the paper out on the floor. At the lower right corner was a date. August 1964. It was a surveyors map. A map of the property. I could see a sketch of the driveway and of the house. And back behind the house the map showed another structure. A building in the woods, a couple hundred feet behind the house and a little to the right. I felt like I could barf. I wanted to call Corey. Whatever I’d just discovered felt important. But then I’d have to tell him I took the box. And then he’d be so angry he wouldn’t want to participate in this adventure anyway. The key didn’t look like it unlocked anything that I’d ever seen before. It looked like the sort of key that might be used on a nuclear submarine or to arm a missile defense system. I shoved it in my pocket, folded up the map, slid out the side door, and tore down the street like Barry Sanders.

The woods behind the abandoned house were dense and full of pricker bushes. I followed a narrow deer path getting caught every few feet on briers and thorns. As I approached the back corner of the property I saw no sign of any building. I should have known. If there was something important in the woods the FBI would have found it. I was naive to think that I could discover something. I wasn’t a real explorer. I was a tourist.

Just then I felt something weird underfoot. The ground flexed underneath me. I crawled around frantically moving dirt and leaves. There it was. A metal hatch about the same diameter as a manhole cover. And next to a folding handle at one side, a key hole. I yanked the key out of pocket and fumbled to push it into the lock. It fit. The key was hard to turn at first and then with a metallic click the hatch thrust open. I peered inside. A ladder extended down into darkness. The moldy dank smell of old basement poured from the opening. Why hadn’t I brought a flashlight? How come I was experiencing the coolest event of my entire life and I was alone? What in the hell could be down there?

Before I went home to get a flashlight I needed a peek. I mounted the ladder and descended into the abyss. After ten feet my shoes touched cement. I couldn’t see anything. I reached out and ran my hand along the wall next to the ladder. I felt it. A switch. “But there’s no way it works.” I spoke softly.

I flicked it upward and the room came alive with light. I turned around slowly. My heart dropped into my gut. I stumbled backward and steadied myself with the ladder. It was a large concrete room crowded with furniture and supplies. A bulb hung from a cord near the center of the room. Beneath it a corpse sat upright at a round table. It looked like a skeleton wrapped in wrinkled tissue paper. Along the left side of the room were four military style cots. From where I stood I could see carcasses laying in three of them. There was no excitement or elation in this. I wanted to turn back time and undue what I’d done. I wanted to unsee.

On the table in front of the man’s dead body was a handwritten note. I went over and picked it up.

“July 4th 1966. It’s been over seven months and our rations are nearly gone. If you are reading this letter it is too late. I built this fallout shelter as a means to protect my family from harm. Some might have called it an exercise in paranoia, but I did all of this for the love of my family. On December 20th I called upon them to participate in our first atomic drill. Construction of the shelter had just been completed and I spent all day stocking the space with materials.”

A quiet creaking noise took my attention from the note. I looked around the room wildly trying to figure out what could be making a sound. I looked up toward the hatch. The disc of blue sky quickly shrunk and disappeared with a thud. I raced to the ladder and climbed to the top. I pushed at the hatch with all my strength. With all the decibels I could muster I screamed out for help. Tears streaming down my face I went back to the table and picked up the note.

“As Hannah and the girls practiced our emergency protocols and tested their beds the goddamn hatch fell shut. It’s a faulty hatch. The goddamn thing can only be opened from the outside.”

#urbex #urbanexploration #short story #horror #atomic #fallout shelter #abandoned #abandoned house #nosleep #90s #nostalgia #90s nostalgia #mystery

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