Falling Against Gravity Read online

  “Stop. Stop right there. This is perfect. Stop,” Fort yelled into the radio. Nikola gave a big wave towards the two precariously perched at the zenith of the hangar and moved away from the mechanism. Fort and Zoya busily got to work opening the top hatch and setting up the hand pump on the barrel. Zoya jumped down and positioned herself on top of the dirigible and locked in the hose. A couple of feet away, Fort started to pump slowly and strenuously. “Ugh. This is harder than I expected. We may be at this longer than I thought we would be.”

  “The mercury has an extremely high viscosity,” Zoya noted. “It’s like pumping cold honey. We can switch out when you get tired.”

  “No, no. I'm good,” Fort replied, winded as he continued to pump.

  After twenty minutes of pumping, Zoya looked over at a very sweaty Fort. “I'm sorry that I probed Ripley about your personal life. I was curious about that man you struck and were so angry with. I wanted to know what would provoke such anger in you. But I see now how that was inappropriate.”

  Fort didn’t respond for a moment. He kept pumping, visibly working up a sweat. Finally, he said, “I get it. We don't know each other very well. I would be curious, too. It's natural.”

  “Then, can I ask ... what happened between the two of you? And the dead spaceman? Ripley never finished the story.”

  Fort was soaked in perspiration. He was still wearing his suspenders over his white undershirt. His dress shirt hung loosely around his waist. Zoya noticed he was getting winded and stepped up to relieve him. Fort flopped down on the pallet, worn out. “I’m about to pass out! It’s so hot up here!”

  Zoya started pumping long, hard strokes. “It is very warm. The day’s heat lingers up here. So you are going to tell me the story, yes?”

  Fort lay back and dug his hands into his sweaty hair. It was always a bit of a mess, but now it was downright nasty with curls and dirt and dust. Fort was still breathing heavily. “Give me a minute ... My heart is pounding.”

  The muscles in Zoya's shoulders rippled as she drew the slow pump. Fort was in a foggy daze from near heat stroke and exhaustion and gaped at her back without meaning to. He realized that he had been looking at her for a few minutes straight and shook his head uncomfortably.

  Zoya turned back at Fort, still pumping. “Go on, please.”

  Fort sighed and swiped the beads of perspiration from his forehead. “Well…”

  ***

  It was a cold, grim night with moments of misty rain as Fort and Garfield shoveled dirt out from the grave. The boy was constantly looking around with every gust of wind, sparingly shoveling, while Fort worked like a man possessed.

  A lonely lantern hung on the nearby wagon and another sat close beside the top of the grave. Garfield diligently watched in the darkness as Fort’s head got lower and lower into the grave as the dirt pile grew higher and higher beside it.

  Garfield started to get cold and moved under the wagon with Fort's long coat covering him to stay dry. To keep the ghosts away, he chattered nervously as Fort dug. “Do you really think he came here from Mars?”

  “It's quite plausible, Garfield. Astronomers believe that they've seen remnants of ancient civilizations in their telescopes, plus it's relatively nearby. So yes, I do believe he could be from Mars.”

  “So, how much deeper, Mr. Fort?”

  “Shouldn't be much farther now.”

  “Is he going to smell bad?”

  Fort thought for a moment. “Hmm ... likely, yes,” he decided.

  “Is he going to come back to life and suck our blood out?”

  Fort stopped mid-shovel. The excavation was making him exasperated and exhausted. He caught himself short of a curt reply, knowing that the child was scared and needed comfort. “No. Those are vampires, this is a Martian. Very different sort of thing.” The boy nodded constantly, his eyes darting about at every sound. Fort took a deep breath, recognizing that his response wasn’t as comforting as he intended. “Look here, Garfield, I think that there's one more candy in my jacket. You know the pocket?” Fort could see the boys eyes light up, even in the darkness. “Fish it out. Entertain yourself with that for a bit. I won't be much longer.”

  Garfield delightfully fiddled with the clasp on Fort’s coat pocket, excited to get in. Fort lightly smiled, and with a hearty thrust he drove the shovel down, over and over again, harder and harder while Garfield marveled at the colorful wrapped candy in his palm.

  Fort was soaked to the bone and ready for a break when he drove the shovel in and heard a faint, hollow thud. For a split second, he froze completely then resumed digging at a new manic pace as Garfield closed his hand tightly around the candy wrapper and ran over to the edge of the grave.

  Fort brushed off the last of the dirt on the box and then pried and pulled the top boards from the pine casket with his shovel. This was too much for Garfield to take. He ran back under the wagon and pulled Fort’s coat over his shoulders and licked the last of any sugar left on the candy wrapper. He didn’t want Fort to think that he was abandoning him, though, so he yelled, “Don’t fret about me, Mr. Fort! I'll stay way over here while you open it up!”

  Fort threw the boards and shovel on the dirt pile beside the grave. Inside the pine casket was a body wrapped entirely in white cloth. Fort pulled a discreet dagger out of his boot sheath and started cutting the cloth over the face of the body. He tried to keep his pruned hands from shaking with excitement. He breathed in slowly and quietly yet excitedly whispered, “Let's get a look at you!”

  With his dagger, Fort cut the fabric apart from the top of its head all the way down to the spaceman’s chest, revealing a badly damaged corpse. For a moment, Fort thought its head had a unique misshapen shape; but then realized that its face looked quite human but it was dirty and crusted over with its eye missing along with a part of its socket and skull. Someone had unceremoniously shoved a bit of bandage into the hole. Fort tore at the covering fabrics a little further and noted that the corpse was missing its arm – the same arm he tried to take from the dog.

  The spaceman was wearing the tatters of a dirty silvery grey suit. Fort leaned in, closely examining the creature’s broken face. He moved in a little closer to his missing eye and suddenly the other blood-blistered eye burst open like it was silently screaming. Fort’s heart stopped and he shrieked, dropping his knife and climbing out of the pit as fast as he could, terrified the corpse’s bloody hand was going to grab at his ankle. He scrambled, wide-eyed, out of the muddy edge of the grave.

  He crawled out a couple of feet from the hole and looked up to see a dark figure holding Garfield. The boy’s mouth was covered and the boy was struggling madly to get out from his attacker’s tight grasp. Fort leapt to his feet and started towards the boy before – CLANG – a shovel brutally walloped Fort in the face, smashing into his skull. The clanging sound hung in the misty air while Fort spun face first in what felt like slow motion as he twisted, turned and finally fell back towards the wet grave. Garfield managed to wrestle his mouth free and screamed for his guardian, even though Fort couldn’t hear him over the pulsating ringing in his ears. He thought about Garfield, momentarily feeling guilty for bringing this innocent boy into this horror but then he slowly lost conscience mid-air, falling into the hole. Before everything went black, the last thing he saw was the undead looking spaceman reaching one arm up at him, his one eye blazing bloody murder.

  And then nothing but the void of utter and complete darkness.

  ***

  Zoya stopped pumping and gaped at Fort in disbelief. Fort nodded back at her from his comfortable position on the pallet. Given a chance, he knew how to tell an enthralling story.

  “You can't be serious?” Zoya said. Her large gray eyes were like saucers.

  Fort opened his mouth and pointed at his lateral incisor. “Yes, all true. And I chipped this tooth that night.”

  Zoya slowly turned around and restarted her pumping. Fort got up and offered to take a turn.

  Zoya nodded, relieved for a
break. She swooped her red hair back and tied it up in a knot and exposed sweat glistening on her beautiful neck. Fort turned toward the handle and started pumping again.

  “So you obviously survived, what happened?” Zoya asked.

  Fort stared off for a minute. “When I regained consciousness, I was somewhere else…”

  ***

  Fort woke up leaning against a dead gray tree. He was no longer in the graveyard. His boots were gone and one sock dangled off his foot. He tried to wipe his face but his forearms were awkwardly positioned directly in front of him, tightly tied together all the way from his wrists to his elbows. He shook his head a bit, then tried to check out his surroundings. He was still quite dazed and confused.

  He awkwardly lifted his head up and the piercing rain pounded down on his face, washing off the dirt and blood. He closed his eyes and let the wetness pour down the sides of his face. He accidentally licked his split lip, making him groan and wince a little. His head and neck were throbbing. He looked over to the old stone well he rode by earlier this evening and noticed a soaking wet Garfield, disturbingly tied up and rocking back and forth in a fetal position. The boy was crying and was too far gone to pretend that he wasn’t. He was red-eyed with unwiped snot running down his lips, gracelessly mixing with the rain in a huge mucousy mess. Garfield perked up when he realized that Fort was awake. Fort nodded at the boy to try to comfort him, recognizing that it wouldn’t provide much relief but not knowing what else to do.

  Fort looked over at their captors and watched them stomping and splashing in the wet mud. At first he didn’t recognize the two men from the train. Their attire had completely changed. They had exchanged their sharp city suits for heavy oilskins and large, wide-brimmed hats. Kane climbed up into the wagon and kneeled over the spaceman, injecting various needles all over his body. Fort blinked and shook his head. Kane was wearing Fort’s missing boots.

  Garfield hoarsely whispered to Fort, vainly trying to keep the others from hearing. “Mr. Fort! Mr. Fort! Oh, I'm so happy to see you awake! Bad guys showed up. They're taking the Martian…”

  Blake perked up his head when he heard the boy’s voice and walked over. He crouched by Fort. Fort looked him incredulously in the eyes. “You? The auditor? Why are you doing this? What is happening here? Wait till the United States National Museum hears about this kind of conduct!” Fort lifted his expertly tied arms as much as he could. He noticed a long rope lying on the ground that connected his arms to the boy. “What on earth are you doing to us?” he asked, his face full of disbelief. He looked over at Kane. “And for what bloody reason did that man take my boots?” He frowned, shaking his head in drenched disgust.

  Blake smiled and stood up. “That's a lot of questions, Mr. Fort.”

  Fort nodded, his wet hair clung to his face like earthworms.

  Blake roughly wiped at the curious man’s face, moving Fort’s hair out of his eyes. “You see, I want to thank you, which is unusual.” He looked over at Garfield, his face full of disgust. “Usually, I just want to kill ... you.” He turned back to Fort. “But you saved me a lot of work, and I mean a lot of work. Thank you again. After all, you told me where everything was, you interviewed everybody for me, found out what they knew, found the body.” He smiled widely, exposing his perfect white teeth. “And you even did all the digging. Kane and I are really impressed.”

  Kane looked over as he securely propped up the weak spaceman in the wagon. He connected a gas mask contraption to a small metal tank and put the mask on the assumed dead body that was now quite alive, albeit worse for wear.

  “So that's why we're not killing you,” Blake continued. “Or at least it's why I'm not killing you. Kane thinks we should. He'd already gone and taken your fancy boots. They are nice. Good quality. And his size, too.” Blake looked over at Kane and shrugged. “But, I kind of like you. You're different. And you're a kook dandy, so no one is going to believe anything you say.”

  Fort looked at him indignantly. “I am not a dandy.” Blake waited for him to say something else, but Fort was sullenly silent in his ever-growing puddle.

  Kane pulled a tarp over the spaceman and stepped up onto the driver's position on the wagon. Fort looked longingly at his boots with the sheathed dagger that Kane stole. Kane noticed Fort looking at him and he caressed the boots, tauntingly. Fort gawked at him, incredulous yet confused. Kane, expressionless, gave Fort the thumbs up.

  Fort knew that he was about to lose his specimen. Panicked, he shouted over the rain and wind, “Why are you taking the spaceman? I just want to research him. You can keep him, I swear.”

  Blake laughed. “You? Research him? That's funny. You are like a monkey to him. I'm taking him to save him. His life, his very existence is worth a million of yours. You should consider yourself quite fortunate.”

  Blake wandered over to a quivering Garfield. He was shielding himself against the stone well, looking for any reprieve from the cold, wet rain. Fort became nervous. He didn’t like the way that Blake looked at the boy. Garfield didn’t like it either. He began to tremble in earnest, his fear amplifying the quaking of his body. Blake lifted the chubby child like he was lifting a doll and gruffly placed him on the cusp of the well’s wall. Garfield screamed and jerked around in a panic. Blake viciously slapped his face, demanding that he be quiet. Garfield tried to do what he was told, but sobs were involuntarily escaping from his throat in a guttural howl.

  Fort struggled to stand up, but was hindered by tightly bound hands and arms. He yanked at them in a frenzied attempt to free himself, but to no avail. Traces of blood started to gather around the rope but Fort couldn’t feel the pain. He could only think of escape. He needed to get to Garfield.

  “Th-thank you for not killing us,” Fort stammered, his teeth chattering. “We won't even try to follow you, I promise. Please leave the boy alone.”

  Blake looked back and forth between Fort and Garfield, as if his eyes were playing a sickening game of tennis. His face was almost joyful when he chuckled, “The boy? He's the anchor, to make sure you stay put. That’s how I know you won’t be following us anytime soon.”

  Blake pressed against Garfield’s fat cheek, and kept on pushing until the helpless boy started falling back into the well. Unable to move his arms, his little hands grasped futility at the stones on which he was precariously perched. Garfield’s eyes desperately locked with Fort’s in a silent wail for help until Blake finally shoved the boy past his tipping point, and the bound child cried out as he fell backwards and head first into the water. Fort involuntarily screamed, “Nooooooooo!” and tried to rush towards Garfield, but instead he tripped and fell to his knees on the ground in the muddy mess. Fort stumbled around, unable to right himself with his arms tied, and then was suddenly jerked forward. Momentarily confused, he was jerked forward again. He suddenly remembered that the long rope tied the boy to Fort’s wrists.

  Fort desperately tried to pivot and steady himself in the muck, but the weight of the child pulled hard on the rope and spun Fort clear around. Every time he got his footing, the weight at the end of the rope fought back and Fort kept falling to the ground on his back. Even the howling of the wind didn’t dampen the boy’s panicked screeching, his underwater gurgling and his body’s desperate thrashing against the wall of the well as he hysterically tried to get up for air.

  Fort looked over at Blake through the sheets of rain. “No, no, no! Don't do this! Please! I can't…”

  Blake calmly winked at Fort and tipped his hat. “Have a nice evening.” He waved as he walked away, thunder crashing all around them.

  Blake climbed up on the wagon and sat beside Kane. Without looking back, Kane snapped the reins of their two horses, with Fort’s horse pulled along in tow. In a quick jolt, the wagon, the lanterns, and the spaceman were all gone, leaving nothing but darkness and rain.

  Fort wasn’t going to give up. He pulled and scrambled at the rope with his tightly bound arms. The rope around his hands were now stained a deep red from the mix
of old and fresh blood. Here and there, Fort got a bit of leverage and traction that allowed Garfield a momentary reprieve from the subterranean tomb. But Fort could never get enough traction or leverage to fully pull the boy from the well. So Garfield continuously slipped and bobbed back and forth into the icy water, confused and begging Fort to help him. Fort intermittently yelled to Garfield in explanation, but the wind and the watery echoes in the well always distorted the message.

  Fort felt like he was caught in a crazed trap. He couldn’t pull the boy up very far and he couldn’t go to the well to help him. He desperately tried different strategies, but ultimately it always ended with him slipping or tripping and Garfield falling back under the water, thrashing and gasping for air.

  ***

  Fort stopped pumping and leaned on the barrel, his brow furrowed, lost in a painful memory. He looked down at his wrists and rubbed at the scars that were like a permanent stain on his body, never letting him forget what happened.

  Zoya sat motionless on the suspended pallet with her hand over her mouth and a deep look of concern on her face. “Oh, Mr. Fort … oh my. Did the boy survive? What happened?” Even as she asked the question, she wasn’t sure if she wanted to know the answer. She began to wish that she never started this journey down memory lane. Some things are best left in the past. Or left unknown.

  Fort knelt down and moved over beside Zoya on the pallet. Even with the sweat running off him in the heat of the current task, it was like the memory of the cold, wet evening made his body ache for the warmth of another.

  “I was like that all night – holding on for Garfield’s life. I was so tired I think that I fell asleep while standing a time or two, but I desperately tried not to give any ground. I remember seeing the pink and red from the sunrise peek up around the hilltops.”

  Fort stopped for few moments and Zoya asked him if he wanted to stop. “I don’t need to know. You don’t have to tell me anything else, it’s okay.”