The Yellow Pine

Chapter 28 - Desperate Measures

Using the handle end of his screwdriver, Lester shattered the long spears of frozen ice and watched them tumble to the ground and disappear under the snow. His fingers were already aching from the cold, despite his heavy work gloves, and he breathed as shallowly as possible to avoid the cold burning as the freezing air entered his lungs. The ladder rungs were slick with ice and he had nearly fallen more than once. Being out here in this storm was dangerous, but it had to be done. Once the spot was cleared, he carefully lifted the new security light up and fastened it into place with trembling hands. Only three more to go.

After he'd chased off the vandal, he'd been forced to clean his business and his home of the painted marks three other times. This was going to end, and he was going to end it. He was pretty sure the two boys he'd seen around town were responsible, but hadn't yet caught them in the act. Other buildings around town had been tagged as well, but no one else seemed to be willing to do anything about it. That was fine with him, he was more than enough man to handle it by himself.

After all four lights had been installed, he went back into the house and slid out of his wet clothes, leaving them in a pile on the bathroom floor. The warm air hit his skin, stinging like a sunburn. Flexing his fingers, he went to the bedroom to put on his sweats. He had briefly considered heading over to the garage with the security cameras to install them tonight, but it would have to wait until morning. The lights surrounding his house had taken more out of him than he'd expected, and all he wanted to do now was to have a beer and watch some television before going to bed.

After a restless night of strange dreams, Lester woke up in a cold sweat. He could never really remember his dreams, but a few snippets jumped out at him. There was a man in a robe who had no face, some shadowy figures creeping through the alleys of town, and through it all, he was alone. At some point, he recalled hearing a child screaming, and in the dream, he had been crying. It was all jumbled and senseless, but left him feeling very uncomfortable and cranky. He got dressed in his warmest coveralls and headed over to the garage to set up the security cameras and check for any further graffiti. Before he left, he made sure that his new pistol was loaded and tucked safely into its holster.

The garage was just as he had left it, with no sign of vandalism. The snow must have kept the punks indoors last night, he concluded. Looking closer, he saw a series of odd tracks near the windows, as though someone had been standing there looking in. Strangely, the tracks only appeared right around the windows, but didn't lead off anywhere else, as though the peeping tom had simply flown down to look and then flown away again. Shaking his head, he went into the garage for a few tools and set to work.

At the theatre, Jenaia was pacing the stage in bare feet, leaving small dots of red blood in a trail behind her. She'd been pacing for so long, blisters had formed on her feet and burst, but she didn't notice or care. She hadn't eaten in days, and her once healthy, beautiful skin stretched grotesquely over her cheek bones and shoulders, giving her the appearance of a skeleton wrapped in thin parchment. "They must see it. They must see The Sign...", she murmured as she paced. Mateo was backstage, painting furiously. Bits of leftover lumber had been repurposed into a looming representation of towers and buildings, which he was painting all black. A great round moon sat in the midst, giving the impression that the city's towers somehow raised up behind it. As he painted, he looked through the rear wall at the vast landscape beyond, where the real city of Carcosa sat. Giggling, he continued to copy it to the best of his ability.

At their home, the Lowell family were despondent. Cameron and Kaiden sat on the couch side by side, slumped down and sprawled in front of a blank television screen. Peter lay in bed, barely moving, breathing shallowly, and staring at the ceiling, while Sandra wandered aimlessly throughout the house. She occasionally opened the fridge and stared at the rotting food, before closing it again and wandering away. None of them spoke to the others. Like Jenaia, they had neglected to eat for a few days at least, and all of them were bony, weak and sallow-skinned. The house reeked of unwashed bodies and rotting food, but not one of them could muster enough will to care about it.

Flora got up that morning with a plan. She would call down to the garage, and hire Lester to shovel a path for her out of town. Then, she would leave Cambria and join her friends at school, like she should have done months ago. She dialed the garage, but no one answered. She let it ring until the machine picked up, then hung up and dialed again. She repeated this three times before deciding that Lester must not have opened the garage today, and that she would need to make another plan. She picked up the phone to call Roland and see if he could help, but as soon as she had dialed the number, there was a crackling sound and the phone line went completely dead. She looked out the window, but couldn't tell from her vantage point if the lines were down due to ice or not. The power was still on, but she didn't know for sure whether or not the phone lines ran on the same poles. She hadn't been able to get a signal on her cell phone for two days now, and if the land lines were out too, she was well and truly cut off from everyone. The thought of it made her feel sick to her stomach.

Debra Jo stood at her front window, watching the snow continue to fall on the already high mounds in her yard. She'd been wearing the same nightgown since she'd come home from the last rehearsal two nights ago, and it hung on her frail form like a sack tossed over a scarecrow. If she knew that anyone else would be there, she would have walked out into the snow and through the woods to the theatre right now. But, no one had called, no one had come by to get her, and she hadn't seen anyone else heading that way since the snow began piling up. What she needed was to do some baking. That would make her feel right again, and with any luck, she could meet up with her theatre family. Without even bothering to put on real clothes, Debra Jo slid her bare feet into a pair of galoshes, wrapped a heavy coat around her shoulders and walked out into the drifts.

Selena woke up cold and alone, again. Corona's side of the bed was still made, and she was nowhere to be seen. Without having to look for her, Selena knew exactly where she'd find her wife: in the same place she'd been for the past week. Descending the stairs, she went to the office just past the kitchen. Sitting at the desk with a thick, ancient tome spread out in front of her, Corona didn't stir when her wife entered. "Honey? Have you been here all night again?" Corona didn't answer, but hunched her shoulders in an irritated fashion. "Cori. Honey. You need sleep. And food. Come on, I'll make..." Corona spun around in her chair with a frustrated sigh. "Jesus-fucking-christ, Selena! Can't you see I'm reading?!" Selena flinched back from the unexpected outburst, and tears began to sting her eyes. The two women stared at one another for a moment: Selena waiting for an apology, and Corona just waiting for Selena to leave. Shaking her head and curling her lip in disgust, she went back to her book and left her wife to quietly exit the office, heartbroken and hurt.

As the residents of Cambria worked, withered, planned, obsessed and stewed, no one noticed the black stars shining in the pale sky or the thick mist encircling the mountain top.