Listen to those rumbles, someone’s angry. I can see why people think it’s a bad omen.
Thick air lingered over town as Jimmy rushed home. Raindrops sliced through the heat. His head down, he felt the drops on his neck blending with beads of sweat before trickling down his back. Dark clouds swallowed the sky, demanding that people find shelter. A low rumble as his pace hastened. He was almost home.
Words of a man in a white coat caromed in his mind. Your count is still low, Jimmy… You’ve been taking the pills I prescribed?… You and Rose may want to consider other options…. They prodded him with the cold, hard truth that he’d never have the only thing he wanted—that she wanted. The rain came heavier, turning from drops to blankets and pelting his raincoat. As he turned onto his block, the first flash lit the leaden sky.
Jimmy trudged into his cramped apartment. He took off his coat and hung it on the rack. Beads of rainwater dripped from the frayed sleeve, leaving a puddle beneath it.
Rose sat on the couch and stared out the window. Her gaze didn’t break when he walked in.
“It’s supposed to be one hell of a storm,” he said.
“Sure looks like it.”
“It’s supposed to last all night.”
“I love a good storm.” She turned to him. “You think it’ll scare Max?”
He looked at the Jack Russell Terrier gnawing on his leg in the corner of the kitchenette.
“He’ll be fine. He’s seen a few before.”
“Not like this. It’s supposed to be the worst in twenty years.” She glowed with expectation.
Jimmy shrugged. He plopped down next to her and let out a long exhale. She eyed his work boots.
“You’re tracking mud everywhere.”
He looked at the short, soggy trail from the door to the couch. “Sorry. I’ll clean it.”
She smiled at him. “It’s all right. Hey Jimmy?”
“Yeah?”
“You want to try again tonight?”
“You mean during the storm?”
She nodded. “My mama used to say it’ll make him brave.”
“Or her,” he added.
“Or her.”
“Your mama said a lot of things. Not all of them made sense.”
Rose stood up and looked back out the window. “Maybe. But I do love storms. Besides, we’ve been trying when there’s no storm, and that sure hasn’t been working.”
Jimmy didn’t say anything.
The sky was dark except for a splintering blaze of light. Thunder roared a few seconds later. Rose squealed and Jimmy jumped in his seat.
“You shouldn’t stand by the window like that,” he said.
“Don’t be silly!”
“It’s not silly. Sure isn’t as silly as a storm making a kid brave.”
She sat down next to him and took his hand.
“What do you say, want to go and try tonight?” she asked.
“I don’t know. Seems like a bad omen.”
“Didn’t know you were the superstitious type.”
“I’m not.” Another crack in the sky.
“That light!” Rose exclaimed. “It’s like God’s taking a flash photo in the dark.”
Jimmy shook his head. “No, that’s not it. Listen to those rumbles, someone’s angry. I can see why people think it’s a bad omen. If you believe there’s someone up there, there’s no getting around the fact that he’s angry right now.” He kissed Rose on the cheek. “Sorry Rosie, I don’t want to see a kid come into the world like that. Not during all that anger.”
“Okay, we can try tomorrow.”
“Sure. We’ll try tomorrow.”
The rain tried its best to mask her tears and he saw the moon in her eyes.
Jimmy woke up in a half-empty bed. The lightning and thunder had stopped but the rain persisted. The wind’s howls and the rain’s frantic patter on the old windows saturated the room. He threw on a raincoat and boots and walked down the muggy stairwell with cracked walls and peeling paint. At the back of the building, he found his tall, taut Rose in panties and one of his t-shirts. Her damp skin glistened like satin under a flickering orange streetlight.
“C’mon, Rosie. Let’s go back to bed.” He took her by the arm.
“No!” She pulled away. The rain tried its best to mask her tears and he saw the moon in her eyes. “The thunder and lightning stopped, Jimmy. And you won’t even go and give the baby a try.”
“Goddamn it, Rose, that’s not how it works. We can’t go and make it happen on the spot right when we want it.”
“I know…but it’s been almost nine months. Can’t we give it a try?”
He sighed. The downpour wetted her soft skin but couldn’t extinguish the crimson of her cheeks. “Fine.”
She brushed the drops from her face and pressed against his chest. “Really? You mean it?”
“I’ll go alone tonight.”
She gave him a quick shove. “Why? I can’t even be there to watch?”
“It’s better that way. It’ll all be easier that way.”
I’m a problem solver. I have a problem, and you have a problem. And now we’re helping each other solve our problems.
Jimmy drove slowly as impotent wipers failed to keep the rain from blurring the windshield. He called Liam.
“Liam, it’s Jimmy. I need you to meet me out at the spot.”
“The hell time is it?”
“Get your ass out of bed, Liam. I’m sick of telling you what’s going to happen if you don’t do as I say.”
He groaned. “Be there in twenty.”
Jimmy drove down the slick, empty interstate and took the exit near the petrochemical plant where he used to spend ten hours a day. As he drove, jagged streaks of light pierced the horizon. The sky above was big and black and it made him think morning would never come. He passed the plant and turned onto a camouflaged gravel road. The grasslands blurred in the wind and Jimmy rumbled his way toward a hunk of concrete jutting from the ground. He sat in his car and waited.
Liam showed up thirty minutes later.
“You’re late,” said Jimmy.
“For Christ’s sake, you know what time it is? In this kind of storm?”
Jimmy stood in the rain, hands in his pockets, and stared at the twitchy man.
“Look,” Liam said, “I know I owe you. I know I’m in the red and you’ve been fair to me. But this shit’s insane. And in my old man’s bunker?”
“Your dad’s dead.”
“That’s not the point. Shit. I don’t know what you expect me to do when we come out here, anyway. It’s not like I can make the damn thing come waltzing out whenever I want.” He paused. “Where’s Rose?”
“Stop talking, Liam. You got your tools if you need ’em?”
“Yeah.” He lifted a small medical bag.
“Lead the way.”
Liam unlatched and lifted a heavy metal door and they walked down muted steps into a cramped but clean underground room. It had an empty refrigerator, sink, and a small table.
“You got all your old man’s guns out of here, right?” asked Jimmy.
“Yeah. There’s nothing left.”
“Communication’s cut?”
“I told you a hundred times, I blocked the phone service and cut the line in the bunker. All she has is the beeper to signal to me when she needs help.”
Jimmy eyed the door in the corner. “Go ahead.”
Liam walked across the small room and knocked. “Isabelle? It’s Liam. Is it all right if I come in?”
Silence.
He turned the doorknob and flipped on the light. On a cot was a pregnant woman shivering in a pool of sweat.
“Jesus, Isabelle.” Liam kneeled next to her. “Here, put a cover on.”
She was awake but trembling. A petite young woman with jaundiced skin and damp threads of light brown hair. When she saw Jimmy, she sat up with her remaining strength. “Hi Liam, Jimmy.” Her voice shook.
Jimmy returned to the kitchen. He stood in silence for a moment, glad that he couldn’t hear the storm. He poured a glass of water, dampened a washcloth, and brought it back to the bedroom.
Isabelle took the washcloth and drank a sip. “Is—is she coming?”
“No,” Jimmy said. “Rose won’t be here.”
Her breathing slowed. Jimmy put a hand on her arm. Cold. His eyes probed her.
“You want to be the doctor, be the doctor,” Liam said, prying his hand back. “Or else get the hell over there.”
Jimmy stood up and faced Liam. “A word.” They went to the corner.
“She shouldn’t be having withdrawals,” Jimmy said. “Part of the deal was she’d get clean soon enough so it wouldn’t hurt the kid. Has she been doping up down here?”
“It’s not withdrawals.” Liam’s whisper was cold and bony. “She’s eight and a half months pregnant. There’s a few side effects.”
“I’ve been reading up on it. Pregnant women get hot and sweaty, not cold.”
“Yeah, how many pregnant women have you been around?” They stared at each other in silence. Soft weeping interrupted.
“What is it?”
“I don’t know if I can do it,” Isabelle said. “And I’m trapped down here.”
Jimmy knelt beside her cot and took her hand. “You’re not a prisoner, Belle. You say the word and I’ll drive you to a clinic or rehab or wherever you want to go. But then our deal’s off. And you don’t want our deal to be off.” He wiped a tear from her cheek. “You stole from me, remember? You stole my dope and you stole my money. You’re lucky I’m not a violent man. I’m a problem solver. I have a problem, and you have a problem. And now we’re helping each other solve our problems. Once that’s done, you’ll be gone with my cash in your pocket and my dope in your veins and we’ll never see each other again. Hell, after you have the baby I’ll fill you with all the dope your pitter-pattering little heart desires.”
“And your wife won’t be back?”
“Forget about Rose. Forget about her giving you hell and trying to convince Liam to induce labor. You take your time. And I won’t bring her around anymore. Lord knows she can’t find this place on her own. And as long as you don’t do anything to harm that baby while it’s growing inside you, we’ll be all right. Yeah?”
“Okay.”
Jimmy went back to the kitchen. Liam followed, holding his medical bag to his chest.
“She’s right,” Liam said.
Jimmy stared at him. Knots of Liam’s unkempt brown hair hung over his forehead like bramble, sweat emerging from the depths of his hairline and meandering down his brow. Dark bags cradled his sockets and his pupils devoured light blue eyes. He sniffed and scratched his nose and brown flakes drifted from it like ash.
“How so, Liam?”
“She’s a prisoner.”
Jimmy chuckled. “There are choices here. One of them is for her to leave. You hear that part?”
Liam shook his head. “There’re no choices here.”
“Oh yeah, smart ass? Are you my prisoner too?”
“In a way.”
Jimmy turned away. He stared at the cold, concrete wall. “Finish this shit. Finish it and I’ll have what I need for my family and we’ll be done.” His weary voice dragged through the silence.
Liam sighed. “She’s close. I’d say within a few days. I can stay with her so that I’m ready when it happens.”
Jimmy shook his head. “I don’t like that.”
“If you want that baby healthy, the least you can do is stay away for a few days. And keep Rose away. It’s stressing the hell out of her.”
Jimmy’s eyes were heavy. His bones ached and the fluorescent lights made his head throb. He put his fingers to his temple and could feel his pulse. “Call me as soon as it happens.”
Expecting the howls of childbirth, silence greeted him.
Two days crawled by. Then a third. Jimmy itched with nervous anticipation. Rose loitered by the window, gazing out, waiting for the next storm.
On the fourth day, Jimmy got a call from Liam. “It’s happening. Come quick. But please, don’t bring Rose. It’ll upset Isabelle and that’s the last thing you want.”
Jimmy put on his boots and didn’t bother waking Rose.
He sped through the clear evening. The moon was heavy in the sky and illuminated the grasslands surrounding the interstate. Far off in the distance, a young storm grew. He took the familiar exit and smiled at the cold, metal labyrinth he’d left behind. He turned onto the gravel road and made his way to the bunker. He parked next to Liam’s car and lifted the heavy metal door. Expecting the howls of childbirth, silence greeted him.
The kitchen was empty.
He went into the bedroom. Empty, except for a blood-soaked cot. He stared down at the leaking, crimson blob, a white cord slithering from its center onto the mattress. Purple veins branched across it like bolts of lightning. He stood and stared until he heard a violent clang of metal above him. He rushed up the stairs to open the door. It wouldn’t budge. “Goddamn it Liam! This isn’t a fucking joke!” He pounded and screamed and heard an engine. A minute later, he heard a second.
Jimmy sat at the kitchen table and let his options shuffle through his mind. His first thought was the phone. Nope. His second was Rose, but it was too difficult. His third was the guns. Zero for three. Panic crept in. He went back into the bedroom and examined the bloody remnants of his squandered plan. The prospect of death came easy enough, but the substance of the rest of his life hit hard. The miasma of life and death soured his stomach. At least underground, he thought, he wouldn’t have to listen to the storms.
Nils Gilbertson is a crime and mystery writer and practicing attorney. A San Francisco Bay Area native, he currently lives in Texas with his wife and German Shorthaired Pointer. His short stories have been published in Mystery Magazine, Rock and a Hard Place, Mystery Tribune, Pulp Modern, and others. Gilbertson’s “Washed Up” (Mickey Finn Vol. 2: 21st Century Noir, December 2021) was named a Distinguished Story in The Best American Mystery and Suspense 2022.
Retreats from Oblivion: The Journal of NoirCon 