Station, стр. 5
Shirley must have noticed the "are you serious" lookthat had crawled up to sit on Hadder's face.
"It's not much to look at, I'll grant you that. Buthere we are, nonetheless."
"I don't get it."
"Pretty simple, really. Just take your key and openthe trunk. Climb in, and that's it."
"What's in there?"
"Hell if I know, son; I just work here. You're thetwenty-seventh person I ever let in, although you're the first in along while. But I tell you this, I've yet to open this here trunkto find any skulls, bones, or dried blood. It must gosomewhere."
"Anyone ever come back out."
"I told you, it's a one-way trip, son." The windincreased. Whether it was trying to push Hadder towards or awayfrom the trunk portal, he had no idea. Shirley protected his eyesfrom the cutting sand.
"Let's hurry it up if you don't mind. Shit or getoff the pot, as my daddy used to say. What'll it be?"
Hadder briefly thought of his old life, howmeaningless it had become. How no light had appeared in theproverbial tunnel to show him the way. Perhaps this was the lighthe was so desperately waiting on. Despite the crew of butterfliesthat had found their way into his stomach, he saw no otheralternative. "Guess I'm shitting."
Hadder removed the key from his pocket, knelt down,and inserted it into the trunk's keyhole. His breath caught as heslowly turned the key.
Momentary doubt fell away as the trunk popped open.It was wholly unremarkable, just a filthy Lincoln trunk, graciouslyvoid of any decomposing predecessors. As a child, Hadder rememberedthinking how easy it would be to fit three bodies in the trunk ofhis grandfather's Lincoln. This trunk only had to accommodateone.
"In you go," Shirley yelled, the wind now havingrisen to point where the conversation was becoming difficult.Demonstrating a determination that belied his recent character,Hadder dropped to all fours and crawled into the trunk.
Or was it a tomb? It certainly was the end of onelife, but would there be another on its heels? Or would he findonly darkness and a dearth of oxygen?
Hadder looked up at Shirley, his hands resting onthe top of the trunk. "Well, son, end of the line!" The wind was astorm now, sending garbage wrappers and old newspapers alongsidethe dust and dirt to pepper Shirley and the other forgottenresidents of the impromptu junkyard. "Tell that fucking devilAlbany, ‘hello and go fuck yourself,' for me!" he called throughrumbles of laughter.
"Wait!" Hadder screamed. "What was that about adevil?! Shirley!"
The top slammed shut, immediately cutting off thesounds of gusting winds and maniacal laughter, ushering in the kindof silence that one encounters in deep caves or space. And then thedarkness that Hadder feared fell. Like the bottom of an oceantrench, it pressed and suffocated. Like the hateful words from aloved one, it was tangible. Like lights out at the end of the firstday of a prison sentence, it was the realization that things wouldnever be the same.
CHAPTER 2
It took Hadder several moments to move. Left alone inthe absolute dark and silence, he felt mildly relaxed consideringthe circumstances, as if back in the womb. And maybe that was thepoint, a rebirth of sorts. Poking around the trunk in the darkness,his hands felt only the cold hard metal of the Lincoln'sexoskeleton to the sides and near the trunk entrance. It seemed hisonly option was to push on, backward, delving deeper into the bellyof the rustic incubator.
Hadder slithered towards the back of the trunk,feeling his way in the blackness, hoping to avoid the sharp bite ofa rabies-infected rat. At worst, he would encounter nothing morethan a solid barrier typically found between trunk and carriage,truly rendering this a tomb and finishing the job that he startedbut failed to complete.
Hadder reached hesitantly, unsure what he trulycared about more, finding a door to a new life or an end to thisone.
After what seemed like endless advancement, hisfingers finally encountered resistance. But it wasn't the firmnessof felt upon steel that his fingers touched, but rather thesilkiness that one would imagine surrounds white sand resorts thatinterrupt unhappy but otherwise tolerable lives. It kissed Hadder'sfingertips but let him through. First, his fingers were allowedentrance, followed by his wrist, arm, and shoulder. Despite notfeeling any open area beyond and knowing that any end might bepreferable to a stifling death in the back of a junked Lincoln,Hadder pushed ahead, rolling his whole body through the sandcurtain. At least, he hoped it was a curtain and not a pure blockof suffocating matter.
Two rolls in and Hadder was still surrounded by thesoft substance. Daring not to open his eyes or breathe in, the ideaformed that he would die in limbo, no physical body or family toever recount his existence. Just as well, he mused. Hadder wantedto be forgotten.
And with that thought painfully dry humping hismind, Hadder rolled again, this time feeling dead air rather thanmore velveteen silt. In the nanosecond it took for gravity to wrestcontrol of the situation, Hadder found time to consider which wasworse, suffocation or the splatter from a long fall. And again, hewondered, why God didn't those pills work?
Hadder fell heavily, but not damagingly so, onto thecool, sandy floor of what he assumed to be a cave. Having gonespelunking in his younger days, Hadder recognized the deep level ofabsolute blackness that surrounded him. He rose unsteadily to hisfeet and felt around blindly. Behind, there was no hint of theledge from where he fell, only the rough, impenetrable surface of arock wall. He hand-walked along the wall, searching for anythingthat may offer a way back or out. Finding none, Hadder took acalming breath, already sensing the weight of darkness beginning tobreed claustrophobia.
It seemed Hadder was at the tail end of a tunnel,with only one real direction to travel, which was comforting. Hemoved slowly, now and then tripping over a rock formation or smallpothole in the