Tandem of Terror (10 page)

Her skin was like sandpaper; deep red burns
covered most of her body. Her hair was lifeless and stiff like
tumbleweed, and she thirsted constantly. No matter how much water
she drank it was never enough. The oppressive atmosphere laid over
this place like a blanket, snuffing out the twinkle that once lit
up her eyes.

"
Stop your daydreaming
Skye!" Ms. Perez called from the doorway of the rooming house.
"You're here to work."

Skye turned her thin frame to stare at the
elderly woman. Ms. Perez kept her snow-white hair wound tightly in
a bun and always dressed very plainly. She was not much into color
or style, and wore dresses that always resembled a missionary, a
wardrobe that consisted of grays, browns and sands. She wore no
makeup. The only jewelry she sported was a crucifix around her
neck.

"
Yes ma'am," Skye mumbled
picking up the feedbags she had momentarily set down to rest her
aching back.

"
After you finish with the
steers I need you to tend to the horses."

"
Yes ma'am," she repeated
and headed for the corral.

After having finished with the steers and
fighting off a stench she never thought she would encounter in her
life, Skye made her way to the stables. The horses were a bit more
pleasant in smell and much happier to see her.

One after the other she tossed hay into their
pens and even spoke to some of them. She was actually growing fond
of the horses. They had personality and were somehow regal and
majestic. A quiet beauty resided in them, the only beauty that
existed in this place. In truth, this chore was beginning to grow
on her. At the very least it was tolerable.

As she stood with the last of her charges,
something caught her attention.

She looked up as a sound reverberated across
the stable's ceiling. Skye thought it was movement. She was unaware
there was even a space or room up there. She searched around the
stable, looking for a ladder or some way of exploring.

Her curiosity got the better of her and
forgetting the feeding, she began rummaging around the bails of
hay.

With little effort she discovered a ladder,
hidden behind a stack of barrels and hay bails. The stable was not
that big and so her search took only moments. Her gaze followed the
ladder up to a trapdoor.

Placing both hands on the ladder, she
hesitated, looked around to first make sure no one was about and
started up. She stopped half way up. "What am I doing?" she
whispered to herself. "Damn it..."

Wasn't this why she was here in the first
place? She wrestled with it again, her predisposition to trouble,
her addiction to playing with fire. Hadn't she learned yet that
petty theft did not pay off?

As she stood before that judge months ago
listening to the sentence, she wanted to laugh when he said she
would be doing community service for an older woman, but only tears
would come. After all she'd been running cons on the elderly for
years and now she was working for one. Most would call it irony.
Skye called it a waste of time.

All she had to do was tough it out for a year
and she could get back to her life. So why risk screwing it up?
Step out of line just once while here and it's back to jail.

The noise called to her again.

She looked around the stable again and up at
the trapdoor once more. A slight sound of movement crept from
above, tempting her, seducing her, it definitely sounded like
furniture or something rattling about. Shimmy, shake, quiver,
quake.

Skye's throat went dry, perspiration dampened
her forehead and her eyes fixed on that door.

"
Screw it," she said and
climbed to the top. She pushed on the trapdoor but it didn't open.
It wouldn't budge. Disappointment washed through her. She saw the
smallest of keyholes in the corner of the door. She put her hands
on the door again and pushed as if somehow it was going to open for
her but it didn't. She felt energy from the door, almost like an
electric charge. It excited her even more. She could feel it
surging through her hands, her fingers, tingling her fingertips,
her fingernails.

There was something on the other side,
something special, she could feel it. She needed to get into that
room.

"
Skye!" Ms. Perez's voice
screeched like shattering glass.

Skye climbed down the ladder and pulled
herself away from the stable in a huff, looking back the entire
time.

She would be back.

Skye lay across the bed, exhausted yet again
from the day's chores, wiping the sweat from her brow. It always
seemed she had more than her share of the chores in the house, more
than the others had at least.

She stared up at the ceiling, memorizing the
cracks in the alabaster ceiling, forming fanciful patterns with
them in her mind. But as much as she tried, she could not ignore
that room above the stables. It called to her. All she needed was a
pin or needle and that lock would be history. No lock had ever been
able to keep her out. She remembered how angry her younger sister
was when she picked the lock on her diary and read it cover to
cover, or when she cracked the code of the wall safe that held her
step-mother's family rings and heirlooms. Those trinkets had not
been as valuable as she thought but it was worth it to piss off
that shrew that married her dad after her mother passed.

A shadow loomed in the doorway, catching
Skye's attention. She looked up to see Ms. Perez standing there.
The woman had some sort of sixth sense. She always knew when Skye
was taking a breather or trying to goof off. She was worse than any
parole officer.

"
After you clean yourself up
you can go set the table. Dinner will be ready shortly."

"
Yes ma'am," Skye said
sitting up and watching the old woman fiddle with the crucifix
around her neck. "I was just resting. All my chores are
done."

"
I know Skye, you muddle
around but you do get your work done. If only you understood it was
for your own betterment."

"
I understand
ma'am."

"
No, not yet you don't. But
someday."

Their eyes met briefly and then without a
word Ms. Perez turned and headed downstairs, silence following
her.

The table was set and Skye took her seat as
the other two women came down the stairs. Lila, blonde, air-headed,
and fake-breasted, who hadn't stopped talking since she arrived at
the house, took her seat first, right beside Skye.
What
luck
.

Sarah who was more mousy and seemed to hang
on Lila's every word took her seat across from them, her dark, drab
hair hanging in her face. Sarah did not look like she belonged
there, and Skye wasn't really sure why she was.

Lila on the other hand, through her incessant
babbling had mentioned something about drugs and addiction. How
weak and boring. At least Skye wasn't stupid enough to let
something control her or dictate her every thought and move. It
wasn't as if her cons didn't have some sort of payoff. This year in
community servitude was just dumb luck and temporary.

Ms. Perez took her place at the head of the
table, a steaming pot in her arms. She took the bowl closest to
her, Sarah's, filled it up and handed it back. "Don't be shy girls,
pass around. Next bowl please."

Sarah took the bowl and passed it to Skye as
Lila passed her empty one to Sarah in rotation.

They would have eaten in silence, but that
was impossible with Lila's chatter. Skye herself was usually pretty
reserved, not wanting to really know her roommates. Sarah and Ms.
Perez, surprisingly, seemed to be similarly inclined but Lila just
would not stop.

"
I just can't believe what
this weather does to my hair. Would you just look. The sand and
dust here are wreaking havoc on it. It's so
uncivilized."

Ms. Perez looked up from her bowl. What some
would consider a sort of smile cracked across her weathered face.
"You've never seen dust and sand like I've seen it. You girls are
lucky. There was a time they were alive. Alive with fury and
malevolence. Those days were not fit for anyone. Yes, you girls are
lucky."

"
Alive?" Lila giggled loud
and boisterous. "Oh Ms. Perez you are a howl."

Skye rolled her eyes but said nothing. She
watched as Ms. Perez returned her attention to her meal and said
nothing more.

Nightfall only brought the slightest relief
from the heat. Thank God for the fans in her bedroom. Skye wished
it was an air conditioner instead but Ms. Perez had stated more
than once that she could not afford it. The state was generous but
not that generous.

As she laid there, the moonlight showering
her in a pale curtain, she noticed someone walking through the
hallway.

Ms. Perez appeared in the doorway and their
eyes met as they had earlier before dinner. "Can't sleep?"

"
It's always so hot," Skye
answered.

"
You get used to it
eventually." She stepped into the room and sat on the edge of
Skye's bed. "I used to dream about the ocean, or the Swiss Alps,
that would usually help me get to sleep. Mind over matter, you
know?" She fiddled with her crucifix again.

Skye eyed it and sat up against the
headboard. "How long have you had your crucifix?"

"
Oh my, probably since I was
around your age. Maybe a bit younger."

"
Is it a family
item?"

"
Oh no, it was given to me.
A gift from an older woman. She was like a mentor to me. Believe it
or not I was a lot like you in my youth. I was very
troubled."

"
I find that hard to
believe."

"
Oh it was true. When I
think back on some of the things I did, well...I'm surprised I'm even
here to talk about it."

Skye's eyes widened with surprise. Somehow
she couldn't quite picture Ms. Perez being a screw up but the
thought of it made the old woman cooler in her eyes. She was
finding a new form of respect for her.

"
I thought I knew it all too
Skye, thought the world owed me something. The woman who gave me
this crucifix showed me differently. It was for my own good and I
came to understand that with time. And you will too. Now you should
really get to sleep. Tomorrow is a pretty full day for
you."

She watched the old woman leave then turned
on her side. She tried to sleep, she really did. It was a valiant
effort but it wouldn't happen. She just couldn't get that room
above the stables out of her mind. No matter what other mundane
subject she tried to occupy herself with she found herself thinking
about that trapdoor.

It called to her, taunted her, teased her. It
would not leave her alone and demanded she return. There was
something in that room, something that begged to be discovered,
begged to be set free...just as she begged to be free. She longed to
see another place, any place that wasn't here. Perhaps that secret
room was her ticket out.

That had done it. That thought burned in her
mind to the point of obsession.

In the dead of night, she crept from the
bed.

The desert was aglow with the stars and moon.
Her shadow stretched and refracted throughout the entire yard,
threatening to give her away. But she was confident enough in her
skills to slip about without being noticed. It was her stock and
trade. As the lady of the house and others slept, she made her way
back to the stables.

The horses recognized her and put up no fuss.
Some of them even went back to sleep as Skye went to work.

She climbed up to the trapdoor and pushed on
it just to check. It didn't budge, exactly as she expected. She
reached into her pocket and pulled out two hairpins. Rummaging
through Lila the airhead's room had paid off, if anyone had pins
she knew it had to be her. Even in the dark, with only the
moonlight to guide her, Skye was able to pick the lock with ease.
She was actually surprised it had been that easy. She expected more
of a challenge, more of a struggle, as if the door would make her
work for its prize. But this was not the case.

She hesitated. Simply staring at the door.
After the hours of waiting why did she now just sit? Wild, strange
thoughts wove through her mind. She touched the door with her right
hand and again she could feel something electric beyond it.

Open it.
She thought.

Still she did nothing. Beads of sweat began
sliding down her face.

Open it.

Why can't I do this?

Open. Open. Open.

Finally she took a breath and pushed on the
door. Dirt sprinkled across her face as it gave way, feathery,
musty, and with both hands, Skye lifted herself into the room above
the stables.

Moonlight illuminated the entire room, a
small, cubbyhole-like space, a pocket tucked into secrecy, shut
away from the world, the light, the heat.

In the corners of the room were rows of small
windows where the moonlight shined in, brightening it with an
ethereal glow. How had she not noticed those windows before? She'd
been to the stable countless times and never saw them. It wasn't
surprising really. It's not like she would ever case a stable. It's
not as if a stable would ever have anything of value in it...would
it? She hoped she wasn't losing her edge as she saw the table
against the back wall. She walked up to it and smiled.

There it was. The prize. The pot of gold at
the end of the rainbow. The break she'd been hoping for.

Upon the table sat a host of pottery. A
collection of clay jars and vases shimmered in the pale moonlight.
At least ten of them sat before her, and appeared hand-painted in
stunning colors. Her eyes went wide. She knew these were no
ordinary jars. They were older than anything she had seen in the
area. They were museum quality. Their designs and patterns were
from ancient people and cultures. She'd been in a few museums. She
had seen the exhibits. She knew these could potentially be
priceless, worth perhaps more then she had ever seen in her life.
The only question remained...how many could she smuggle out?