Worm Soup

The last of her guests had left and the beauty of the afternoon was at its peak.

“Goodbye!”

“See you in the spring!”

“Don’t forget to write!”

The echoes of the summer-only residents floated like musical notes on the breeze. It was a bittersweet time of year when most of the lakers headed south, returning to their big city homes and bustling lives. Faye always missed her dear friends and yet she was also grateful to be left behind to live out the next 6 months in peace. But for an occasional medical appointment and supply delivery, she was looking forward to uninterrupted time with her books, her hobbies and her memories.

“You’re in excellent health, Faye. Labs, vitals, they’re textbook perfect. I don’t know how you do it for a...”

Faye cut him off. “Don’t say it. You always say it. I know I’m old. You don’t need to remind me.’

“You are only as young as you feel!” replied the young doctor.

“I’d like to think I taught you better than to use those old cliches on me, Jimmy. You were the wiggliest student I think I’d ever taught. Clearly you should have been paying attention to the lessons!” Faye teased.

“That was a long time ago, Miss Faye, and you know English was not my thing. I was always going to be a scientist.”

“And here you are, keeping me alive with your science. I suppose my career as an English teacher was superfluous. Do you need to look that word up, Jimmy, I mean Dr. Gallant.”

‘You get all the credit for keeping yourself alive. You’re healthy and tough as nails. Now, let’s get you out of here so you can get back to that lovely little lake of yours. And I know what ‘superfluous” means, thank you, very much.”

He smiled, gave his favorite patient and former 7th grade English teacher a hug, and left the room.

Happy to be out of the medical gown and back in her leather work boots and jeans, she walked briskly to her truck.

“Well, time to get your healthy old self back to work, Faye. That camp of yours isn’t going to winterize itself!”

The seventy mile drive went quickly and, before dusk, she was home and starting dinner. The local radio station played in the background while a slab of leftover sheppard's pie was in the oven reheating.

While dinner warmed, she finished stapling the last sheets of clear plastic across the westerly windows. Then, she ate her dinner in silence and left the dishes in the sink. Her goal before bedtime was to pile her magazine collection against the exterior wall of the kitchen. As she worked, she replayed the many conversations she’d had with friends about her collection of “stuff””.

…If they only knew what I actually use these for!…

What she never told them was that her twenty five year collection of National Geographic Magazine, organized in boxes by year, kept the westerly mountain winds from rushing across the lake and slicing through her cabin. Those winds were merciless and howled non-stop from November to late May. Her mind flashed back to that afternoon when her snowmobile had broken down, resulting in a very cold 8 mile walk back to the cabin in the dark. More recently, the belt loop of her jeans caught on a hook while she was insulating under the cabin. She could not free herself and so had no choice but to shimmy out of her jeans and crawl out from under the house in her underwear. That resulted in an angry gash on her leg and her recent trip to Dr. Gallant’s office for a tetanus shot.

She never shared these stories with anyone. Her friends wore nail polish and talked about luncheons in Philadelphia. They would judge her if she shared, or worse still, they might call her son-in-law and end this fifty year experiment entirely. “Best keep those things to yourself, old girl, or Norman will have you in a nursing home faster than… “

She heard something. A faint shuffle.

The cabin, which was more like a labyrinth of 3 camps slammed together, was her domain and she knew every nook and cranny blind. Immediately, she isolated the source of the sound. Without even turning on a light, she negotiated various tables, stacks of books and chairs and walked to the entrance of her bedroom. She could hear the shuffling. It was coming from her closet.

“Racoons? Or maybe red squirrels. Hard to tell. Looks like tomorrow’s priorities are going to shift a little because it’s too late to deal with this tonight.” She pulled her heavy wooden captain’s chair away from her writing desk and pushed it against the thin closet door.

“There. That should hold things over until morning. You’re going to need to find your way out the way you came in, because you won’t be coming out through my bedroom!” She admonished to no one in particular.

She checked to make sure that the closet door was properly latched and then turned to prepare for bedtime. The bathroom, located on the other side of her one-story maze, had already met with Faye’s unorthodox way of insulating. This meant that the moisture from her hot shower had nowhere to go but to cling to the plastic wrap that covered the window, the walls and the rusty piping that stretched up to feed the shower. What Faye had learned, the hard way, was that once you completed your shower, you could not use any electric devices in that room – including the light switch. Her scarred right hand reminded her of just how close she had come to electrocuting herself.

…Another story best kept to yourself, old girl…

So, with the basics done, she walked out of the bathroom, leaving the light on until the moisture had dried. She maneuvered around to the small room she used as a library, turned on tiny Tiffany lamp and walked to a bookshelf. She knew what book she wanted to read and where it sat. She grabbed it, brushed off a layer of dust and cheerfully crawled into bed.

Settled in with a reading lamp, a treasured book and a warm bed, she finally relaxed.

“My favorite time of day,” she sighed.

The wooden cabin sat peacefully, softly even, along the ancient shore of Faye’s beloved lake. All was right with the world.

Except- there it was again.

That shuffling sound. Nothing to do about it now. The closet was on the right side of the room and the newly positioned desk chair was within reach of her right arm.

The distant glow of the bathroom light illuminated the hall outside her bedroom. Exhausted from her day, Faye’s eyelids grew heavy and she fell asleep, neglecting to turn off even her reading lamp.

Sometime later, she awoke to a loud CLICK!!

Faye’s eyes popped open, but her brain had not yet decided to engage.

…Was that the closet latch?…

The room was dark and she could barely see her hand in front of her face. Moments later, she felt something pushing against the right side of her mattress. As she attempted to sit up, her right arm hit something hard.

…Why am I so close to my desk?…

Then, in a flash, she remembered. She had moved the furniture to keep some pests in the closet. Had they pushed their way out?

Her arm extended out to reach for her reading lamp. She’d done this a million times. But tonight, it was no longer there.

“Are you looking for THIS?” she heard a voice ask. She could see nothing. And then, the lamp came down hard, striking her on the forehead. The second blow rendered her unconscious.

Pain is what woke her. Not the sound of a stranger humming, or the strong smell of body odor, but pain. She reached up to feel her face. Her eyes were swollen nearly shut and her lip was split. She lifted her head from the pillow and felt the dried blood in her hair strain to hold on to the pillowcase.

“Shhh, shh, shh” she heard a voice say again.

Her left eye was useless but she could still see through a slit in her right eye. There, in the wooden chair next to her sat a man whom she did not recognize. He was wearing her spring party dress and the fancy blue lady’s hat that she kept on the coat rack in her room. It had been her mother’s.

The intruder smiled and revealed several missing teeth. His lips were large and bulbous and it caused him to spray when he spoke. “Shh,shh, shh.” He said once again. “Do you like my dress?” He was thin, with greasy hair and a hunched back.

“What do you want?” Faye wanted to sound strong. “There is nothing for you here.”

“Oh, I disagree. There is so much for me here!!”

Faye lost consciousness once again.

“Wake up! Wake Up! It’s time for breakfast.” The stranger was standing on her bed, his feet jammed against her ribs. He grabbed Faye’s arms and moved them as though they were conducting a symphony while he hummed an unrecognizable tune. Then, he jerked her upright. Faye’s head snapped up and she worked to focus on something.

…What is happening to me?…

If she did not get her wits about her soon, she could not formulate a plan. And, without a plan, she knew from experience that she would not likely survive the ordeal.

“I’m up. I’m up.” She managed to say.

“Come with me. I have a surprise.” The intruder pulled her up from the bed and into the main living area. He shoved her into a chair. “You thought I was a raccoon. That is sooo stupid. Do I look like a raccoon to you?”

The man wiped his hands down the front of his borrowed dress and cocked his hip. He playfully adjusted the old blue hat, pulling the delicate lace veil down over his eyes. “But I won’t hold that against you. I made you something to eat!”

…I’ve got to stay calm. Stay calm. Clearly, he is deranged. If I wait long enough, I might get a chance to outsmart him..

The man danced his way over to the kitchen and stirred something that was simmering on the stove.

“What do you want!?” she demanded.

“I want you to keep your strength up, because we are going to be together for a Very. Long. Time.” He brought a kitchen towel over to where she sat, tucked it in to the top of her nightgown with a flourish and went back to the stove. He returned with a bowl, and a spoon.

“Open up!” One hand grabbed her face, forcing her lips to open while he drove the spoon into her mouth.

Faye looked down in the bowl. It was dark and, at first, unrecognizable. Rocks. Mud. Leaves. This was a bowl of dirt.

“I put worms in it!” His voice was almost childlike. Faye’s head began to spin and she looked away, gagging.

Hours passed and the intruder’s behavior became increasingly erratic. He would stand, jammed into a corner of the main room with his head down, and remain motionless as though in a trance. Before Faye could attempt to flee, he would spring to life and prance wildly around the room.

To Faye’s eventual relief, she could finally make out the light of daybreak as it moved in through the windows.

“Do you believe in church?” he asked her in a mocking tone. “I think YOU want to go to church! HA!!” He was making less sense now.

The reality of Faye’s situation was desperate and an unfamiliar feeling had crept in: despair.

“Why do you think I want to go to church?” she was using a calm tone, one she remembered using as a teacher.

“SHUT UP! We will go to church when I say we go to church!” He sprayed her with spit as he screamed. “NOW GET DRESSED FOR CHURCH!”

He pulled her up again and pushed her forward. Faye could barely keep her balance. She had lost so much blood and she was dehydrated. She kept her hand on the table and chairs as she made her way back to her bedroom. The morning light illuminated the bed and she was shocked to see the condition of her sheets.

…Blood, so much blood. My blood. I have got to hold on…

At that moment, Faye turned to face her captor. “Yes. Let me get dressed. I would like to get something nice on and go to church. What do you think I should wear?” Her plan was to distract him and then maybe she could grab the stick she kept in the closet.

He never answered. Instead, he charged toward her and pushed her in to the wooden chair. Quickly, he tied her down using what Faye believe was duct tape. Then, he hummed again while rocking her back and forth, nearly tipping her over and each time. With an abrupt sweep, he dragged the chair out to the main room and placed her by the window. Just as suddenly, he left her and walked to the bathroom.

…How much longer can this go on? How much longer can I go on? ..

Faye heard the shower turn on. The madman jumped out of the dark bathroom and lifted the blue veil from his eyes. “TA-DAH!!!” He clapped his hands together, “Now WE are going to play in the water.”

Faye was terrified.

.. This man means to drown me..

The shower remained on for nearly an hour while steam poured out of the bathroom. Faye was left tied to her chair by the window.

“Weeeee!” the stranger was running back and forth through the steam cloud.

“I’m ready, if you are.” Faye announced.

…If I can just get him to touch the light switch in there, just turn on the light….

“Shall we go into the bathroom now to play?”

And it happened so fast. She heard a strange grunting sound and watched, with surprise, as the lights in the entire cabin surged and then went black.

The thud was heavy.

The cabin fell silent- but for the sound of the shower. She waited. Nothing. No sound. No movement. Just the shower. She exhaled and noted, as though detached from her body, that she was crying. Her tears burned as they washed down her lacerated face.

“It’s okay, old girl.” Her own voice brought her comfort.

With her hands tightly taped to the arms of the chair, she had no way to wipe her tears. In fact, she had no way to call for help, or even make her way out of the cabin toward the road. She assessed her predicament.

…If I fall over outside in this chair, I’ll freeze to death. But if I don’t let someone know I need help…well…I am going to die here, taped to a chair…

The day slowly lumbered on until the sun began its late afternoon retreat. Shadows resumed their stations within the cabin.

Silence. Except for the constant hum of the shower, Faye was alone in the silence and the steam. Her dead dropped down and she hovered somewhere between sleep and consciousness.

Another morning. A new sound. A truck and a radio?! Her head and neck were throbbing. YES! Someone was here.

There was a knock on the door. It was the delivery service!!

She called out, “COME IN!! I NEED HELP!” but her voice was absorbed within the cabin and never rose above the sound of the radio outside.

“Oh, please come back!!” she hollered out again. No response.

The morning stretched into the afternoon. Faye needed water. She needed to keep her strength up. She was talking to herself.

“The shower is spraying water and I am out here, only steps away, dying of thirst. This is dramatic irony, boys and girls.”

By late afternoon, as the shadows elongated again, she braced herself for another night on the hard, wooden chair. Then, again, she heard a vehicle.

“HELP!!!” She half cried, have gurgled.

…Please hear me…

Voices mumbled from the other side of the cabin door and suddenly, with one explosive push, the door burst open.

“Faye!!?? Are you in here?” It was the sheriff. Within seconds two of his deputies stormed into the cabin, guns drawn.

“The back, check the back!” one of them commanded.

From the chair by the window, came a voice, more determined than ever, “I’m right here. For godsake.”

The sheriff immediately dropped to his knees beside her and began cutting away the heavy tape that bound her arms.

“Miss Faye. It’s Sheriff Randall. You’re safe now.”

“OH, Nathan! I know exactly who you are and of course, I’m safe. But there is a dead lunatic on my bathroom floor. And I’m thirsty.”

As the sheriff helped her into his waiting patrol car, he started to explain how it was that they knew she was in trouble.

Faye interrupted him, half pleading and half informing him, “Nathan, you’re not going to tell anyone about this, are you!?”