Slow Dance in Purgatory (31 page)

             
“Super strength, super flexibility, super skills,” he repeated to himself, pushing the tears away.  The phone started ringing again.  There was no way he could squat down enough now to grab it.  There wasn’t enough clearance for his knees to bend.  He was going to have to work a miracle with his big feet.  He put pressure back on his wedged foot and pulled the other foot back, pressing his heel into the side of the locker, wincing in pain he tried to peel his foot out of his shoe.  Little by little he pulled his foot free.   

             

 

 

***

 

 

 

             
Tasha placed the candles in a large circle, and she and the other girls lit them, one by one, until they reflected a burnished glow off the highly waxed stage.  The boys sat in the center of the circle, ringed by the candles. They had decided on the auditorium because it was fairly close to the back entrance in case they had to make a speedy getaway, and there were no windows to reveal their clandestine activities to someone passing by, as Shad had so wisely pointed out before they had turned on him.

             
The boys had pulled out a Ouija board and were avoiding it studiously, waiting for the girls to finish setting the stage.  Everyone was feeling a little spooked.  The candlelight created flickering shadows and unsettling illusions dancing over the black curtains circling the stage. They huddled together uncomfortably, wondering what to do next, most of them wishing the whole thing was behind them.  Derek had disappeared a few minutes earlier, and no one really wanted to take the initiative to start without him. 

             
They all jumped, and one girl screamed when the big double doors swung open, and Derek trundled down the center aisle pulling a cooler of beer and some harder stuff that he’d stashed outside the service entrance earlier that evening.  Everyone cheered at the sight of the booze, and the mood was immediately elevated.  Cracking the tabs, the ten teenagers took long sips of liquid courage, and the amateur séance began.

             
They started asking simple yes and no questions.  Are you a spirit?  Did you die here?  Are you haunting the school?  Derek tried to control the responses, pushing and pulling the dial when he wanted a certain answer.  Dara accused him of doing just that and slapped him, knocking his drink out of his hands.  He had only drunk half of it, and it splashed over the stage in a wide arc, liberally dousing the curtains behind them.  He just laughed and popped the tab on another.  Dara stomped off to the corner and threatened to leave.  However, she didn’t have her own wheels, and nobody was in the mood for her attitude.  Plus, everyone had loosened up considerably, and they were all starting to enjoy themselves.  They just ignored Dara, but made sure Derek wasn’t holding the board any longer.

             
“Are you Johnny Kinross?”  Tasha asked, taking the lead in the questioning.  The dial slowly spelled out ‘no.’

             
“Who are you?”  Trevor piped in, sipping the foam off his third beer.  Tasha repeated the question to the board.  There was no movement on the board. 

             
“Maybe we can only ask it yes and no questions,” Tasha wrinkled her nose doubtfully.  None of them had ever played with a Ouija board before.

             
“What was the other guy’s name?  The younger brother?”

             
“Billy, right?”  Trevor offered.

             
“Are you Billy Kinross?”

             
The board spelled out N-O.

             
“Is your name Casper?”  Someone asked sarcastically, laughing uproariously at their own joke.

             
The board didn’t respond.

             
“This is boring,” Derek burped.  “That Shad kid is full of shit.  I’ll bet he was pulling our chains all along.”  He stood and approached his sulking girlfriend.  He offered her a wine cooler, gallantly opening it for her and taking the first sip.  After a few minutes they were giggling and kissing, all contention dissolved in cheap liquor and teenage lust.

             
After a few minutes, Tasha and Trevor had paired off, along with the other couple who had come.  The Ouija board was forgotten for the moment as the party took a different turn.  It wasn’t until a half hour or more had gone by, and the group was well on its way to being extremely drunk, that one of the football players, bored and girlfriend-less, decided to ask his own questions.

             
He giggled to himself as he asked a couple of lewd questions and got appropriately lewd responses.  He fished a cigarette out of his pocket and lit it, using one of the low burning candles, rationalizing that if anyone smelled smoke in the big auditorium on Monday, they would never know who to blame.  He took a deep drag and blew it out happily. 

             
“Why didn’t anybody bring food, man?  I’m starving,” he grumbled, leaning back over the Ouija board and trying to think of something else to ask.  Maybe he would try to get a name out of the ghost.  He wasn’t convinced there wasn’t one.  Maybe Tasha just didn’t have the touch.

             
“Who are you?”  He asked, tapping his ashes on the slippery floor.  The dial started to slowly respond. 

             
“Hey guys, I think it’s gonna give us a name!” he called out.  But no one seemed especially interested in the ghost anymore.  One of the football players was snoring loudly from the carpeted steps rimming the stage.  The lone player finished his cigarette as the letters slowly spelled out….”

             
“We got a R, then an O.  Hmmm.  R-O-G…..”  He tossed the butt aside, his eyes fixed on the board in front of him.  Two more letters and the dial slid to a stop. 

             
“Who the hell is Roger?” he puzzled, raising his voice in question.

             
The curtains behind him whooshed suddenly, making the sound a low flying plane makes as it passes overhead.  A column of fire engulfed the alcohol soaked fabric and greedily lapped up the trail of harder liquor spilled across the stage.  The curtains were old and dry, providing ideal fodder for the hungry flames.  Another section of curtain ignited, and the inebriated students ran screaming and stumbling for the exit doors.  Derek tripped over his sleeping teammate and slapped him awake, pulling Dara out behind him.  With a quick glance around he assured himself that everyone was out.

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

             
Shad eventually managed to wedge his stocking clad foot in between the lid and the base of his phone, opening it and sending a ray of blue light gleaming up at him from the bottom of the locker.

             
“Hallelujah, and praise the Lord,” he celebrated briefly.  He was sweating profusely, and he wiped his face against his tee-shirt clad shoulder that was smashed in to the back of the locker.  Now came the really tough part.  Maggie was on speed dial.  If he could use a fine enough touch with his big toe he might be able to ring her up.  Of course, he would have to press the speaker button too if she had any chance of hearing him.

             
Grunting and holding his breath, he punched at the keypad awkwardly.  If only he could get his sock off!  It created a floppy mess at his toes, making dialing impossible.  Sliding his left foot to his right foot, he bore down on the floppy end of the sock and pulled.  Little by little, wedging the excess sock under his other foot, and pulling in inch long increments, he was finally able to pull his bare foot free.

             
“You are Mr. Elastic Shadrach,” he told himself exuberantly.  ‘Now we dial…”   He stabbed at the buttons with his toes, managing to shut the phone three times and having to maneuver it back open each time.  He managed to depress the speaker button, and then with another little stab, not too hard, not too soft, he got an audible ringing.  From what he could see of the little display, the phone was calling Maggie.

             
“Please answer, please answer, please answer,” Shad begged.  She didn’t answer.  Groaning in frustration, his muscles shaking with exertion, he punched at the redial button with his cramping big toe. 

             
Calling Maggie…..Calling Maggie…..Calling Maggie…..

             
“Hello?”  Maggie’s voice had never sounded so good.  No voice had ever sounded so good.

             
“Maggie!”  Shad screamed.  “Can you hear me?”

             
“Uh, yeah, Shad.  Take me off speaker!  You sound like you’re in a tin can!”

             
Shad burst into hysterical laughter.  “You have no idea how close that is to the truth.  Maggie!  You have to come to the school, ASAP!  You gotta get me out of here– “

             
Shad’s phone sounded that series of cascading tones that lets the owner know the battery is almost dead.

             
“Shad!  I didn’t catch the last part.  Did you say you’re at the school?”  Maggie pressed her own phone to her head, trying to hear Shad through the waterfall of tones beeping in her ear.

             
Shad shouted down at his phone, his muscles quaking, and his voice cracking.

             
“Yes!  I’m at the school.  They stuffed me in a locker!   You gotta get me out of here!”  He shifted ever so slightly, attempting to alleviate the screaming pain in his weight bearing leg.  Just a tiny adjustment and his foot snapped down on the lid, shutting the phone once more, denying him Maggie’s response.

             
“ARGHHHH!”  Shad moaned in defeat.  His phone was almost dead, and Shad was dead tired.  Hopefully, Maggie heard enough information and would be coming soon.  His phone started ringing almost immediately, but the phone was pushed too far back beneath the heel of his bottom foot now, and he couldn’t do anything but listen helplessly as it rang and rang.  He wished futilely for smaller feet and giant miracles.  He was going to need one or the other to get himself out of this mess, because he hadn’t told Maggie which locker he was in – or even which hallway.

             
He exhaled slowly, then inhaled deeply and repeated the process several more times.  He just had to stay calm until Maggie came.  He breathed in again and then stopped, sniffing the air in confusion.  Was that smoke? 

 

19

“GREAT BALLS OF FIRE”

Jerry Lee Lewis - 1958

 

 

 

 

             
Maggie grabbed her glasses and her sweatshirt and flew down the stairs.  Shad had sounded freaked out.  Did he really say he was inside a locker??  Maggie couldn’t imagine that, but he had definitely said the school. 

             
“Aunt Irene?  I’m taking the car!  Be back in a few.  I’ll call you!!!”  Maggie raced through the kitchen, not stopping to see if it was okay with her aunt.  She didn’t have time to explain or plead her case if her aunt didn’t want her to go.

             
She jumped in the Caddie and was out, heading down the road, less than five minutes after Shad called.  She punched in Gus’s number as she drove, knowing that to leave him out of the loop if Shad were really in trouble would be foolish.

             
“Gus?..... Hi, it’s Maggie.  Do you know where Shad is?”  Maggie listened impatiently as Gus gave his typical warm greeting and eventually got around to answering her question.

             
“Shadrach told me he was goin’ to a party.  He seemed real excited about it, too.  I was glad for him.  Seems like maybe he’s finally making some more friends.”

             
Maggie was instantly suspicious.  “Who?  Who invited him to a party?”

             
Gus seemed a little taken back by her sharp response.  “Well…. let’s see.  I think he said some of the football players were gonna be there.  Derek….that was the kid’s name he mentioned.  Derek.  Do you know him, Miss Margaret?”

             
“Ohhh, man,” Maggie moaned.  Did she know him?  Did she ever. 

             
“Gus, I got a call a few minutes ago from Shad.  He said he was at the school.  I didn’t hear everything.  His phone was beeping like an old man’s hearing aid – um, sorry, no offense, Gus.  Anyway, I think he’s in trouble.  I’m heading down there right now.”

             
Gus hemmed and hawed for a minute, and then he sighed, “Thank you for calling, Miss Margaret.  Will you give me a call if there is trouble?  Shad might not want me swoopin’ in.  For all we know the party went bad, and he went to the school to shoot some hoops.  ‘Course if there’s a bunch of kids down there I need to know.”

             
Maggie agreed and clicked off, resisting the urge to floor the old car and get to the school.  She had a bad feeling, and it was getting worse the closer she got to Honeyville High.  As she turned onto the winding lane leading to the school, Maggie gasped and cried out.  Black smoke was billowing from the roof and some of the upper windows on the east side.

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