The Tunnel: Jerome
The day washed away and the night with its new chill trickled down through a graying mist. Through it all, the fire and the talk were kept alive and the crowd had grown by twenty at least, representing all manner of race, gender, and age; their faces intermittently illuminated by the flickering blaze. The scene reminded Bart of hell. He looked across the fire pit at Devin who sat next to Pete on a makeshift couch made of wooden palettes, smoking one cigarette after another and laughing whimsically at the various anecdotes recounted for his benefit.
"What's this? You guys ... you guys having a party without me?" A new face became visible in the dancing light: a grim, unshaven face with squinting, beady black eyes that scanned across the crowd. A sloshing sound became audible, and it was apparent the man had some container of liquid in his hand.
"No party here, Jerome," Selby said, rising from a squat near the wooden couch. "And we told you, there's no alcohol or drugs allowed here no more. So, if that's what you got there, you need to leave."
"Now that's a fine welcome for a friend, Selby," the man called Jerome made a screwing motion with his hands in the darkness and more sloshing could be heard. "We still friends, ain't we? Ain't we all in this shit together? Didn't we all come out here together?"
"You're drunk," said Pete, rising from his seat, "get the fuck out of here, Jerome."
"Who's this you got with ya? Someone new?" Jerome stepped forward and the crowd dispersed solemnly with heads hung low.
"My name's Devin, Jerome," Devin said smiling, rising in turn and stepping forward to offer his hand to the other man, "pleased to meet you."
Jerome looked into Devin's face and froze solid. The sloshing sound became an outright shake. "You! I know who you are! I ... I seen you red faced and starin' down at me when I woke from those dreams!"
"Come again?" asked Devin, cocking his head in surprise, still holding out his hand.
"You! You're the fuckin!" Jerome cast a wide eyed and imploring look across the few faces that remained around the fire, "he's the fuckin Devil!"
Bart felt a rush of apprehension, as if the story would be believed. He tried to remember the direction from which they had entered earlier that day. They could get back on the road and this place would simply be a bad memory.
"Alright, that's it," Selby said. He rushed forward, kicked the bottle out of Jerome's hand, and grabbed him by the throat. "Get the fuck out of here, Jerome, or I'll crush your fuckin larynx right here and now."
Jerome waved his hands in the air as he could not speak, and Selby let go. Jerome coughed and felt at his throat. "Shit man, that hurt. Alright, fine, a man knows when he's not wanted. We ain't friends no more." He turned and made his way back into the woods.
"No we ain't," said Selby, and he spat.
"What's this? You guys ... you guys having a party without me?" A new face became visible in the dancing light: a grim, unshaven face with squinting, beady black eyes that scanned across the crowd. A sloshing sound became audible, and it was apparent the man had some container of liquid in his hand.
"No party here, Jerome," Selby said, rising from a squat near the wooden couch. "And we told you, there's no alcohol or drugs allowed here no more. So, if that's what you got there, you need to leave."
"Now that's a fine welcome for a friend, Selby," the man called Jerome made a screwing motion with his hands in the darkness and more sloshing could be heard. "We still friends, ain't we? Ain't we all in this shit together? Didn't we all come out here together?"
"You're drunk," said Pete, rising from his seat, "get the fuck out of here, Jerome."
"Who's this you got with ya? Someone new?" Jerome stepped forward and the crowd dispersed solemnly with heads hung low.
"My name's Devin, Jerome," Devin said smiling, rising in turn and stepping forward to offer his hand to the other man, "pleased to meet you."
Jerome looked into Devin's face and froze solid. The sloshing sound became an outright shake. "You! I know who you are! I ... I seen you red faced and starin' down at me when I woke from those dreams!"
"Come again?" asked Devin, cocking his head in surprise, still holding out his hand.
"You! You're the fuckin!" Jerome cast a wide eyed and imploring look across the few faces that remained around the fire, "he's the fuckin Devil!"
Bart felt a rush of apprehension, as if the story would be believed. He tried to remember the direction from which they had entered earlier that day. They could get back on the road and this place would simply be a bad memory.
"Alright, that's it," Selby said. He rushed forward, kicked the bottle out of Jerome's hand, and grabbed him by the throat. "Get the fuck out of here, Jerome, or I'll crush your fuckin larynx right here and now."
Jerome waved his hands in the air as he could not speak, and Selby let go. Jerome coughed and felt at his throat. "Shit man, that hurt. Alright, fine, a man knows when he's not wanted. We ain't friends no more." He turned and made his way back into the woods.
"No we ain't," said Selby, and he spat.
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