The Diner and That Same Old Feeling Again

by Jeff Brown

Table of Contents
Part 8 appears
in this issue.

Part 9 of 11

Revisiting the Past and and End to Ends

“We’re lost,” Tony said. He sounded worried.

Dolan said nothing in response. He continued to follow the jungle they were in. He knew they were lost. He had known that since they had left the grove where Pete had died. He didn’t need Tony to tell him the obvious. Dolan also knew that there was no way the island was as big as it seemed. They had been walking for at least two hours and Dolan felt like they had gone nowhere except around in circles. Either that or the island really was that big.

Dolan had thought about turning back and trying to find another path to follow. That thought ended when he turned back to look back to where they had come from. The path was no longer behind them. Instead, the trees had closed the path, forming a wall similar to the one that had closed them in the grove. He didn’t say anything that time, either. He just turned and began to walk again. When he turned back he stopped abruptly, putting out his arms as he did so. Tony almost knocked Dolan down as he ran into him.

“Watch out,” Dolan said as he tried to steady himself.

“Sorry, Dolan,” he said. “Why’d you stop?”

Dolan shook his head at Tony’s question. It was obvious to him that he was standing in front of a giant pit — this should be obvious to Tony also. But, for some reason it wasn’t. Dolan thought at first Tony was being his normal arrogant jerk self but realized that wasn’t so. Tony really hadn’t seen the pit in front of them. Dolan guessed it was because Tony was following him and Dolan came up to it first. But, he also thought that part of it was that Tony wasn’t the same Tony as the one who got out of bed that morning. He had changed since then. He was no longer the arrogant bastard that he had always been. He was now an unnerved child of a man, his psyche somewhat shattered and just barely hanging on by a thread. Instead of making a wisecrack at Tony, which was what he really wanted to do, Dolan pointed down at the pit.

“I think we’ve found Dale,” he said.

Tony looked pass Dolan with curious eyes. There, in front of them, as if it came from nowhere, was a large pit. It looked bigger this time around than before. It could have been the size of a football field. Inside the pit was a large thicket of plants, mostly large tree trunk sized branches and black leaves — millions of those little black leaves. All of the leaves had red veins coursing through them. The leaves were large in size, possibly the size of a large pumpkin or water melon. They were unlike anything Dolan or Tony had ever seen before.

“You think Dale’s down there?” Tony asked.

“Yeah,” responded Dolan simply.

The two men looked on for a moment, neither of them really thinking about anything in particular. All they were really doing was trying to build up enough nerve to try and climb down into the pit. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of minutes, Dolan finally bent down a little. He turned his back to the pit as he did so and lowered one leg toward a tree branch in the pit.

“Where are you going?” Tony asked. He bent down and grabbed Dolan’s arm as he did so.

“Down there,” Dolan answered. “You can come with me if you want to. Or you can stay here.”

Tony released Dolan’s arm and stood up straight. His face had changed during the day, becoming more childlike, as if he were getting younger instead of older. Now he became fearful. Dolan could see him contemplating in his head, trying to come to grips with what Dolan had said. Could he go down into the pit? Or would he stay at the top, waiting in what he thought was a safe spot? It didn’t matter to Dolan. The way he looked at it, the entire island was haunted or possessed or something and there was no safe place on it. He also thought that more than likely Tony and Dolan would never be able to leave the island — no matter what they did now.

“Are you coming or not?” Dolan asked.

“Ummm...” Tony stammered.

“I’ll tell you what,” Dolan said. He could tell Tony didn’t want to go with him. He was going to let him off on the easy side. “You stay here, Tony. That way if something does happen you can help me out, okay?” Tony nodded. “Ummm... yeah sure. That’s what I’ll do. I’ll wait here just in case you need some help.”

“If I find Dale, I’ll let you know.”

With Tony’s decision made Dolan bent down again. This time he leaned forward a little and leapt onto the large branch he was going to back onto originally. He had no problem landing squarely on the immense branch. The branch, as were most of the branches in the pit, were as large as the path they had been walking on. Dolan had no problem standing straight up on the branch. He didn’t even feel the need to hold onto any of the other branches as he walked carefully along.

The leaves were larger down in the pit than above it, easily the size of car tires. The red veins that were in each leaf looked to be as wide as one of Dolan’s fingers. The leaves seemed to have fluid pumping through the red veins, like blood.

Dolan continued on until he stepped from one branch onto another. The branch, which looked very sturdy before he stepped on it, gave way, sending Dolan into a downward fall. He let out a slight cry, not really a scream or a yell, but more of a sound of shock. He reached out and caught hold of a branch for just a second. His grip faltered and he was falling again. His hand struck the side of one of the branches and he instantly felt a slice of hot pain. When he finally came to a stop he landed with a hard thud.

Dolan felt his knee shatter from the impact of the landing. There were a half dozen loud pops in his knee followed by an explosion of pain. This time Dolan screamed out. Both hands reached for his left knee and gripped it on both sides. He could feel his knee move underneath his hand as he tried to hold it without moving himself. He felt the pain begin to shoot down into his shin and ankle and toes then up into his thigh and hip. Tears streamed from his eyes as he felt the sticky hot blood of his hands. Dolan looked down at his leg knowing that if he were bleeding badly he would need to try and stop it somehow. What he saw was a mangled knee concealed by his blue jeans. What he didn’t see were four fingers on his right hand. Blood poured from where his fingers had been.

Dolan began to scream loud and long. Blood was pouring from the nubs left by his missing fingers. He could see the sinewy tissues of the fingers and the exposed bones that were cleanly cut off. For a second or two he felt faint as his world began to swim from him.

“No,” he said aloud as he shook his head, trying to make the light-headed feeling go away. He let go of his leg and began to pull himself along the...

Dolan looked around him. It was a realization that struck home to him as hard as the pain that racked his leg and hand. He was sitting on the wing of the Corsair that Dale had found fifteen years earlier. Dolan scooted along the wing until he reached the side of the plane. He tried to pull himself up with his one good hand but couldn’t get a grip on the plane. He looked around, trying to find something to hold onto. He finally did. Dolan reached up, his good hand grabbing at the stem of one of the large black leaves. He began to pull himself up but the leaf snapped off of the branch toppling him back to the wing. The leave landed on his lap. He looked at it with a dumbfounded expression for a moment before he realized he was watching the leaf bleed. Yellow fluid; yellow blood seeped slowly from the break of the stem. Dolan looked up at the branch. The yellow blood was dripping from it and onto his shoulder.

The first scream put Tony on edge. He had seen Dolan fall from the branch when he leapt across to it.

“Dolan?” he had called out but not loud enough to have been heard. It was more of a whisper that he meant for himself to hear and only himself. He may have been losing his nerves as the day progressed but he still had his thoughts of survival. And survival for Tony meant not being too loud just in case someone or something was watching them.

Tony waited, listening for Dolan to call out to him; to call for help. Dolan never did. Instead, he screamed. It was a painful scream that seemed to echo from the depths of the pit and up to Tony’s ears. Tony stood and began backing away slowly.

NO! He yelled to himself silently. You can’t leave Dolan here, too. Tony was arguing with himself. It was something he hadn’t done the day Dale died. You’ve got to go help him.

Tony took a couple of steps forward and peered over the edge into the pit. He saw only giant branches and black leaves. Tony knelt down at the ledge. He began to climb in then he suddenly stopped.

Dolan’s second scream filled the air, reverberating throughout the pit and the jungle also. Tony looked down into the pit, craning his neck back as far as it would go so he could see. He lifted himself out of the pit and over the ledge back to solid ground. He scampered to his feet, stumbled back to his knees and back up to two legs. He stumbled backward for a dozen steps or so, kicking up dirt and dust as he did so.

Then came the third scream. It was the loudest one yet. It was the loudest scream Tony had ever heard. By far. This one sent Tony running back the way they had came. The path that had closed behind them at every turn on their way there was now opening up in front of him as he ran. Tony didn’t seem to notice as he ran, almost blindly, through the jungle. The screams pushed him harder along as he tried to escape. He didn’t look back. He didn’t even think about going back to save Dolan. The only thing he wanted was to get away; get away from Dolan’s screams; get away from the death there; get away from the island, itself, and back home to his empty apartment. Get away. That is all he wanted to do. Get away.

The yellow blood of the leaf began to drip at a faster pace on to Dolan’s shoulder. He tried to stand then slipped on the mixture of the yellow blood from the leaf and the red blood from the wounds of his hand and leg. He almost screamed again but held back as a fresh pain tore into his leg and hip. New tears began to stream from his eyes and again he felt faint. He shook his head hard, determined not to pas out from the pain or the loss of blood. He knew it wouldn’t be much longer before he did faint from one or the other.

Dolan pushed himself upward with both of his hands. They were planted on the wing in the ever growing puddle of yellow and red. With his one good leg he pushed upward. Dolan grabbed the cockpit of the plane with his left hand. With his other hand he pushed up with the fingerless palm until he was standing. He steadied himself with his hands on the plane.

“Just hold on, Dolan,” he told himself. “Just another few minutes so you can get yourself out of here.”

Dolan looked into the cockpit of the plane. He saw the weathered remains of the pilot who had flown the plane so many years before. Its uniform was dirty and faded and there were many holes throughout it. The pilot’s helmet was still on its head, which was cocked to one side.

“A pilot,” Dolan said absently, as if he had expected something else to be there.

Dolan was staring at the pilot in something short of awe when his good leg slipped in the yellow blood of the leaf. When Dolan began to fall his chin snagged on a piece of the shattered cockpit, catching on his jaw bone and stabbing him through his mouth. The glass cut through his tongue and broke off as he fell. The scream that came from Dolan’s throat was wet with his blood. When Dolan landed on the wing again his knee popped loudly several more times bringing more pain with it. Blood gushed from the gashes in his chin and mouth. His tongue felt like he had bitten it harder than ever before and it had split in half.

Dolan lay on the wing of the plain in the mixture of red and yellow blood holding his jaw and trying to keep his mouth open. One hand was on the piece of glass trying to pull it out but not having much luck.

The mixture of red and yellow blood began to move slowly, drawing itself toward Dolan, onto him. The blood began to crawl over him instead of pooling around him. It began to coat him with a thick coat of an almost orange color. As it did so Dolan felt his skin begin to tighten as if it had suddenly became too small for his body. The blood raced over his body quickly covering the shattered knee, holding it in place. It covered the four nubs where fingers had once been. The orange mixture of the two bloods began to seep into his body, filling it as it pushed more of his own red blood out.

The blood reached Dolan’s head and began to spread over his face closing off the wound in his chin and mouth. Dolan’s wet screams were finally cut off as the yellow blood covered his lips, soaked into his eyes and nose and filled his mouth and throat. There was an instant of maddening pain that eclipsed Dolan’s body before he died. The yellow blood filled his lungs drowning him, ending his pain.

Tony stopped running. He looked back for only an instant. Dolan’s screams had ceased. Up until them he was almost praying for them to end, begging a God he had never prayed to or believed in a day in his life to end the horrible sounds coming from Dolan’s throat. Now that the screams had ended he wished for them again. There was silence now and the silence was loud, almost deafening. Tony yelled out. He yelled out to hear something — anything — besides the silence, even if it was his own voice screaming an almost insane scream. After he was done he turned back and began running again.

The trees parted (Tony still did not notice the sudden changes in scenery as he ran forward), ending in a clearing. In the clearing was the shore where they had touched down. Tony could see Dolan’s old bass boat. He bolted for it, running across the white sand and then the red clay mud. At a couple of points he thought he was going to sink into the mud like it was quicksand. He didn’t and he continued to run until he reached the boat.

Tony pulled one rope, yanking the block it was attached to across the mud. He lifted it up with one hand and tossed it into the boat. It landed with several loud thuds before quieting on the floor of the boat. Tony started to pull on the second rope but stopped when he saw the block had sunken down into the mud. Tony went to the eyelet where the yellow nylon rope was attached to the boat. He quickly undid the knot and pulled the rope through it, dropping it into the muddy water.

Tony looked back toward the woods — the jungle. It didn’t look that big from the bow of the boat. Actually, it looked quite small.

Tony felt an urgency as he turned away from the woods. He was in an almost panic as he grabbed the front end of the boat and pushed forward hard. It moved with more ease than Tony had expected. Tony almost went sprawling head first into the lake. He leapt into the boat with little problem and made his way to the back of it. He unlocked the latch on the boat’s outboard motor. It dropped into place in the water. As the boat floated backward Tony pressed the ignition button then began to pull on the rip chord. The motor sputtered on the first pull. It did the same on the second, third and fourth pulls.

“Damn it! Come on,” Tony yelled nervously.

To be continued...