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The Gad Dam Ghost
A Guest Quarters Story
By
Harvey Roberts
 "Tomorrow, this'll all be gone." Amos Campbell took a long swig from the bottle. It burned his throat. He passed the bottle to his good friend Jubal McConnell and leaned against the old hickory tree. Like the town of Gad, tomorrow the hickory tree would be gone.
The moon cast intermittent light into the valley that would soon be drowned with water.
"I just had to see the old place one more time." Jubal threw back a stiff drink. There were several houses in view, but no lights. Only crickets and the slow ripple of the small creek broke the silence. "And I had some business to attend to..."
Amos grinned and took a swig of the "business" that had brought Jubal back. They shared a love of whiskey. "You could move up to Summersville with the rest of us."
In the moonlight, Amos could almost see the point where the Corps of Engineers had dammed the river. "I couldn't stay," he said. "They took everything. They wouldn't even call it the Gad Dam. They even took the name from our town. They're going to bury it under water. I feel like I've lost everything."
Dams were usually named after the nearest town. You couldn't get any nearer than Gad. When the waters rose, it would be under the reservoir and the town would cease to exist. But, the Army hadn't liked the working name of the project, the Gad Dam, and had changed it to the Summersville Dam.
"You've still got Elizabeth," said Amos.
"Yeah." Jubal looked down at his feet.
They drank in silence.
Finally, the sound of rippling water and the intake of liquor brought an urge in Amos.
"Where you going?"
"Gotta take care of some business."
"Use the outhouse."
"Your outhouse is still there?" "Yeah." Jubal smiled. "Leave the bottle."
Amos tossed the bottle toward Jubal and wove down the hill. He reached the outhouse sooner than expected, but the whole area had changed with all the work the Army had done. He could smell the distinct smell of waste.
He opened the door and stepped in...
And down.
The floor was missing from the outhouse.
He was falling.
He slid down a hole, falling farther and farther into the ground. His arms flailed above his head and scraped the sides of the hole. He grabbed the sides. It slowed him, but he couldn't get a good enough grip to stop falling. As he fell, the hole narrowed.
Finally, he hit the ground, jarring his legs. Strangely, it was dry...and tight. Something cold and stiff and lumpy wedged him against the wall.
Where was the shit?
"Help!"
He was stuck in a hole with his hands pinned over his head. He twisted and pulled, but couldn't squirm free.
"Having trouble?"
"Don't just stand there, Jubal. Get a rope or something. Get me out of this hole."
Amos felt dirt shower around his shoulders. He twisted and clawed against the sides of the pit. With his arms above his head, he couldn't get an angle to pull himself up.
More dirt fell around his head.
"Jubal? What are you doing?"
Metal scraped dirt, then more dirt rained down on him. He started clawing against the walls...but he was wedged in with his hands stuck above his head. He was trapped.
"Jubal!"
"Tomorrow, this'll all be gone." Jubal's voice sounded strange. He was drunk, but he was almost singing the words to himself.
Amos' heart beat rapidly inside his chest. "Jubal? What are you doing?" More dirt fell across his face and Amos spat it out of his mouth.
"Still got Elizabeth? Who's got her now Amos?" More dirt rained down.
"What are you talking about, Jubal?"
"Who's got Elizabeth now?" Jubal shouted.
It was hot in the hole, but Amos felt cold.
Jubal knew.
He spit more dirt from his mouth and his head touched the object in the pit with him. It was cold and lumpy.
"I can explain..."
"There's nothing to explain!"
More dirt. Amos could feel the dirt gathering around his feet.
"Jubal? Stop. We can fix this."
"I?m fixing it. Don't you worry."
The next thing to fly down the hole wasn't dirt, but an empty bottle. It hit Amos in the head and he felt dizzy. His head spun and his ears rang. He coughed as more dirt landed in his mouth. He tried to shake his head clear.
"Jubal. You don't have to do this. Why don't you just go home to Elizabeth?"
"I don't have a home! The Army stole it. They paid peanuts for it."
"Then, go wherever Elizabeth is."
"I don't have Elizabeth. You stole her."
Amos' soul felt cold. He'd never intended for this to happen. But, Elizabeth was so beautiful. She understood him like nobody ever had. It had all been friendship and talking...at first.
"Elizabeth is here," said Jubal, "and she's going to hell...with you...where you both belong." Each phrase was punctuated by another shovel full of dirt.
Amos leaned against the object in the hole with him. Silky hair tickled his nose. He leaned closer. He could smell it...Elizabeth's perfume.
He'd smelled it so many times. And he'd washed the smell from himself so his wife would never suspect.
His cheek touched hers.
Her cheek was cold.
He felt no breath.
"No! Goddammit, Jubal!" The dirt had reached his waist. His arms hurt from being stuck above his head.
"Jubal!" Amos pleaded. "Get me out of here." "The two of you are going to burn in the fires of hell...adulterers."
Amos tried to pull his feet out of the dirt. The hole smelled like earth and whiskey...and Elizabeth. He dug his hands into the loose dirt. He pushed his fingers in until it hurt.
Dirt continued to rain down around his shoulders. He pulled himself up with all his strength...but it wasn't enough. He stretched his right hand up slightly and dug in. A light appeared at the top of the hole, followed by Jubal's head.
"How do you like it down there, Amos? I heard you like holes."
Amos looked up.
"Why are you doing this, Jubal? For the love of God, don't do this."
"I put up with it for too long, Amos. What about my son? My son? I can't call him that."
Amos dug his right hand in again, slightly higher up. He winced as one of his nails broke off. If he could keep Jubal talking, the dirt would stop piling up around him.
"He's yours, Jubal."
"Mine? How can he be mine? I've got black hair, Amos! Black hair! Elizabeth has black hair! Who has blond hair, Amos?"
"There's lots of folks with blond hair. A bunch of people in Gad...McKee's Creek...over in Summersville."
"Yeah, but none of them was stepping out with my Elizabeth."
Jubal's head disappeared. Amos managed to move his left hand up another few inches and dig it in. His fingers were slick with blood.
The metallic smell of blood mixed with the other smells of earth and liquor and perfume.
The next shovel threw more dirt, and larger chunks that pelted Amos' fingers and pushed them from the wall. He scrabbled for his very life against the walls, but lost his purchase and fell back those precious few inches he'd managed to climb.
Tears rolled down his face. He didn't care so much about himself. He knew that he was doing wrong being with Elizabeth. Why didn't Jubal just kill him? Why did he have to kill Elizabeth, too?
"You know she was pregnant again." Jubal's voice drifted down the hole.
Amos caught his breath.
"I couldn't stand having another blond child, Amos."
"You were moving away, Jubal. It was over between me and Elizabeth. Why now?"
"We're moving out of state, Amos. Those people in Kansas won't know anything about Elizabeth...or you. I'm just the poor jilted farmer whose wife ran off with a philanderer."
A large stream of dirt poured down around Amos, piling up to his chest. He gasped for air, trying to breathe through his tears.
He screamed. Maybe somebody from the Corps of Engineers would hear him.
But, every time he opened his mouth, more dirt rained down. He spat the dirt out and screamed again.
Jubal kept shoveling the dirt until it came up to Amos' neck.
"Feeling comfortable down there?"
Amos tried to answer, but it came out as a gargle.
"It took me two weeks to dig this hole. Do you like it?"
Water splashed down around Amos' head.
"How about some water, Amos? Thirsty?"
More water poured over his head and Amos choked. It rolled off of his head and down into the loose dirt.
"Tomorrow morning the water starts raising, Amos. I don't think you'll die of thirst."
Jubal stopped the water when the walls were slick. Amos couldn't get any purchase on the walls. The more he dug into the walls, the more mud he pulled down on himself.
The light was blocked over the lid of the hole.
"What are you doing?"
"I can't leave you like this. They might hear you." Something soft rubbed down Amos' arms and landed on his head.
"Recognize that?"
Amos couldn't answer without inhaling water.
"It's the sheets from our bed, Amos."
Amos pushed his head above the level of the water. "I'll kill you, Jubal."
"Not a chance."
More dirt rained down the hole, pushing the sheets down near Amos' face. Amos heard wood scraping over his head.
"I'm putting the seat back in place," Jubal yelled. "Then, I'm going to use the outhouse like it was meant to be used. After that, I'm moving to Kansas. Have a nice swim tomorrow."
Amos screamed until his throat was raw. *** Amos woke. The dim light told him that dawn had come. He couldn't feel his arms any more, just the throbbing in his fingers. His legs felt cold and heavy. The wet dirt around his body had dried solid.
Light filtered through the sheets bunched above his head. He thought he could dimly see Elizabeth, buried in the dirt beside him.
How long would it take? The outhouse was low on the ridge. How fast would the water rise?
Amos had no way to measure time. He tried to scream, but his throat was raw. He tried to pull himself up...but he couldn't move his arms.
After an infinity of waiting, Amos heard the rushing of water.
Another lifetime later, water began to pour over the side of the hole.
Amos kissed Elizabeth as the water seeped down into the hole. "I love you."
He scratched and clawed against the sides of the hole, hoping that the rushing water would loosen the dirt enough to let him free.
He pulled and squirmed. Nothing.
The water rose slowly over his chin, then up to his mouth. He held his breath and pushed upward with all of his strength.
A man can only hold his breath so long. Amos looked at the dead body of Elizabeth. He could barely see her, but she looked so calm and peaceful, water rising over her face. Then, muddy water covered his eyes.
His lungs burned. He saw spots. He fought and struggled, to no avail.
He swore he would get revenge on Amos...and the Army...and all of the living.
Finally, he couldn't hold his breath any longer. He gasped for air and inhaled water. *** Jubal McConnell slid into the full, warm bath and uncorked a whiskey bottle.
Kansas was horrible. He hadn't found a woman to replace Elizabeth. He couldn't find a job. And every day he had to look at that blond boy and remember where he came from.
The kid was driving him crazy. Really crazy. He kept hearing someone call his name.
"Jubal."
He ignored the voice and sucked on the whiskey bottle until his throat burned.
Without warning, something grabbed his neck and pulled him under the water. He dropped the bottle and struggled, but couldn't keep his head above water.
"Jubal." The voice bubbled, distorted by the water.
Jubal pulled against the invisible hands around his neck and his head splashed above water.
"Listen!" He spit water from his mouth and breathed deeply.
"Jubal. I told you I would kill you."
Jubal recognized the voice now. He hesitated and his head was again pulled beneath the water. The voice was louder under water.
"I'm here with Elizabeth. We watch you."
Jubal saw spots in front of his eyes and felt dizzy.
"I told you I would kill you. I won't. I want to hurt you worse. I'm going to let you live."
Jubal groaned and swallowed water. The hands released his neck, then grabbed him by the hair and pulled him out of the bathtub and onto the floor. He lay in a puddle of water, gasping for air. "Why?"
"For what you did to me and Elizabeth."
I've lost everything, thought Jubal. I've lost my wife, my best friend, my farm, and my town. All I have left is a kid that isn't even mine.
The hands pushed his head against the floor. "If you harm our son in any way, or fail to raise him right, I will hurt you." The hands pulled his head up, then slammed it down hard.
Jubal's ears rang. He lay with his cheek against the cold, wet tile. "Why not you just kill me?"
"That would be too easy. You deserve to suffer."
And suffer he would. When he left Gad, he expected to start a better life. But, nothing about Kansas was better. The Army paid him almost nothing for his 20 acres in Gad, and he only had three acres in Kansas. He was still a farmer, but with no hope of ever getting ahead.
And every day, he faced a constant reminder of the failures in his life.
Death would be a mercy.
"If you try to take your own life, we will see and we will stop you." An invisible hand slapped Jubal's face.
Jubal reached for his whiskey bottle.
"Enjoy what's left of your miserable life, Jubal."
 Harvey Roberts lives in Maryland, but lived the first 18 years of his life in West Virginia. His work has previously appeared in Science Fiction Trails and Arcane Whispers Volume 1. The day he sold this story, his basement flooded. Really.
Story by Harvey Roberts, Copyright 2010
Image by Amber Clark, Stopped Motion Photography, Copyright 2010 |
