"Bridgefield" - Writers Forum

Wildcard · 05-08-2008, 05:41 PM

Prologue

“You think he can hear us?” Private Mel Campbell asked.
“Look at the guy,” Private John Gonzalves replied, giving his colleague a quizzical look. He picked up the small microphone sitting on the table before them and placed it to his mouth.
“Hey you…dipshit,” he said. The sound waves traveled from the mic and through the speakers mounted in Chamber Room 7.
“Shit man,” Mel blurted, looking anxiously at John. He laughed nervously and returned his gaze through the 2” thick Glass encasement which separated them from the Chamber Room.
John laughed at his colleague’s nervous expression as he placed the mic back on the table.
“I don’t know how you ever made it into the army,” he said, taking a sip of coffee. “You’re such a pussy.”
Mel crumpled a piece of paper and threw it at John, who was sitting just a couple feet away from him. John caught it and threw it back.
The table in front of them was littered with all kinds of buttons, switches and electrical equipment; none of which either of them were familiar with, or had access to by order of their Commanding Officer.
Those that would be familiar with this advanced equipment had already left for the day and would be back again to resume their work bright and early tomorrow, as they always were.
“How long was he in here anyway?” Mel asked, leaning forward in his chair. Eyes still locked on the Chamber Room.
“Could be a week,” John replied. His face contorted as the coffee slid down his throat. “Who brews this shit?” He asked contemptuously.
“So what’s the story with this guy?” Mel asked, ignoring his colleague’s complaint. “Why are they treating him so special?”
John popped open the cover of the waste bin sitting on the floor next to him and dropped the Styrofoam cup of coffee inside.
“They’re not saying much about him,” he replied. “All I know is that he’s some kind of writer or something, and he happens to be a big deal for some reason.
“I’ll go out on a limb here and assume that he’s connected to the Bridgefield thing.”
Mel turned his swivel chair so he could face his colleague. “I’ve been hearing a lot of rumors surrounding that place. Most of em’ just sound too fucked up to believe.
“What do you think?” He asked, looking expectantly at John.
John shot his colleague a glance.
“What do I think?” He asked as if he hadn’t heard the question properly. “I think that I’m sick and tired of sitting here day after day and guarding a living corpse.
“All the guy does is lay there and stare at the fucking ceiling. He’s like a vegetable or some shit so why does he need supervision?”
“Maybe there’s more to it than that.” Mel replied, turning his gaze toward the chamber room once more.
“Of course there is.” John blurted, making no effort to hide the sarcasm in his voice.
Asshole, Mel thought.
On the other side of the encasement was a relatively large room. There were padded gray walls and one large reinforced steel door. The room’s sole entry and exit point.
The concrete floor was tiled and white, matching the color of the room’s padded roof.
In the middle of the room, in the midst of a host of state-of-the-art equipment and monitors, was a large padded table. The mechanism on which it was mounted currently had it locked into a 45 degree angle and it was facing the Observation Room – John and Mel’s location.
From the inside of the chamber the encasement was like a large mirror. It was designed especially so it could only be seen through from the observation area; and like the rest of the room, it was reinforced to withstand a small explosion.
Firmly secured and fastened to the padded table was the body of a male.
At first glance one would assume him to be conscious. His eyes were open and remained static as they stared into nothingness. His head and face were clean shaven and he wore a white linen robe; the type they would put on patients when prepping them for surgery.
Numerous tubes and wires dangled from his body, each serving a different purpose.
Brain activity, heart rate, body temperature, radioactive emissions, body nourishment, were all being monitored.
Specimen Eight was his name – well that’s the name they had given him anyway – and all of his days he spent sealed up in Chamber Room 7 undergoing numerous tests in the care of the ADPO (American Division of Paranormal Occurrences) team.
Eight’s face was emotionless and his lips were slightly parted to reveal two sets of even teeth as he lay there, completely deaf and blind to the world surrounding him in a state which transcended unconsciousness.
The device that measured his heart rate sounded a fixed, steady bleep with every thrum his heart made. The device measuring his brain activity remained stagnant as it had been since the day he’d first arrived.
His body remained still and motionless. Eyes remained fixed on nothing.
His senses remained oblivious to the world around him.

A sudden twitch from his left hand…

…brain activity meter begins to fluctuate…

Wildcard · 05-08-2008, 05:43 PM

Chapter I

Bridgefield

It was a Thursday like any other Thursday in Bridgefield, Arizona.
The afternoon sun loomed overhead, silhouetted against a vast blue sky as residents went about their daily routines with an air of self-assurance about them.
No rain today folks, is what the newscaster had promised and he so far seemed to be right. The day was as beautiful as they came.
The small mining town pretty much sprang into existence in the early 1900’s, from the discovery of wonderfully rich ore bodies which surround it on all sides. It started out with a population of about two to three hundred people – mostly migrants from the surrounding territories seeking to capitalize on the land’s resources – and had since grown to a whopping 4000 souls, bringing vibrant life and animation to the once desolate streets.
The first house was erected in August, 1923, and since then the town’s growth has been remarkable. Many thriving businesses have been incorporated into the town’s infrastructure ranging from banks to small enterprises, two large hotels, a large and commodious theatre and public hall, and numerous private residences, displaying both taste and comfort. The town also contains three churches: Methodist, Catholic and Presbyterian, one public school, which is widely attended, and also a private academy, which receives generous patronage.
Bridgefield boasts its central location in an area rich in mineral territory, and its large and growing trade with neighboring mining camps and counties. Its two newspapers, the Trumpet and the Rapture, both have full sections dedicated to heralding the towns many achievements over the years, and the vast resources of the region.
Both papers work incessantly, under the patronage of the town’s mayor, to bring those resources to the attention of the outside world.

Woody Claremont was employed with the town’s major mining camp for over fifteen years.
Camp Tobias, as it’s called, employs about 200+ workers, men and women alike, and had been in operation since the town’s birth in the 1920’s. It had undergone numerous changes and upgrades in upkeep with MESA (Mining Enforcement and Safety Administration) standards, to ensure the safety and security of the mine’s most precious resources; its staff.
For some strange reason, Thursday always seemed to be the day Woody got the most shit out of life. He’d started his morning with a huge fight with his wife, after which he busted two tires taking a shortcut to work causing him to reach the job two hours later than he would have if he’d just stuck to the main road. Three of his team members had called in sick forcing him to work a double shift, and to top it all off his boss, Frank Hartford, had asked him to reschedule his upcoming vacation because there were certain deadlines to be met before the end of the quarter.
It’s a wonderful life, he thought to himself as he descended the shaft via lift, to where his team worked in the lower levels. He pulled a cigarette from the pack in his pocket and lit it.
The shaft was encompassed by small recessed light fixtures which were located at 10 foot intervals, providing illumination for its many brief occupants on their journeys into and out of the mine. It provided access to the mine’s five levels or ‘decks’ as the workers referred to them, through a series of access points. Woody’s team occupied deck 5, the lowest level in the mine, where they worked in conjunction with the D & E (Drilling and Exploration) team. There were guards stationed at the entrance of each access point – a recent addition – and Woody waved a greeting to each of them on his way down.
On reaching deck 5, the lift came to an abrupt stop with a mechanical thud and Woody exited, taking one last drag of his cigarette before stamping it out. The sound of heavy machinery could be heard throughout the level as members of his team performed their daily operations.
Judd Travers – deck 5’s sentry – sat in his usual spot behind his desk, fiddling with a radio.
“Morning Judd,” Woody called to him as he walked by.
“Mornin’ Woody,” Judd responded, looking up briefly to tip his hard hat. “How’re Emily and the kids?”
“They’re good. Everyone’s good. How’s the leg?”
Judd frowned slightly as if he’d remembered something that he would much rather have forgotten. “It’s comin’ around,” he replied after a few moments.
Woody grinned as he observed the look on Judd’s face and gave him a slight pat on the back. “Take it easy man.”
“I will,” Judd replied, then under his breath, “It’s not my fault you guys play baseball like a bunch of savages.”
The section where Woody’s team worked was a cavernous enclosure, with a ramp leading from the access point and down through a hollow chamber with an overall span of about 30-35 feet. The area was somewhat dense and the air was considerably thinner than that of the other decks, which made flashlights and respirators a necessity. A ventilation shaft which ran from the mine’s surface to its core, provided air supply to decks one through four. Work was currently underway to provide deck 5 with a form of ventilation as well, but that was still days from completion.
The sound of heavy machinery erupted from the dim interior of the wide cavern as Woody exited the ramp. He pulled on his respirator as he made his way through the cave-like opening which leads to his section. A large sign hung over the entrance which read HARDHAT AREA and another which stated NO UNAUTHORIZED PERSONS.
Ben Goodman was the first one Woody spotted upon entering the cavern. He stood at the bottom of a large scaffold shouting instructions to Clay Daugherty, another member of the team, who was mounting a large light fixture on the cavern’s roof.
“Hope you know what you’re doing up there,” Woody shouted to Clay as he approached the scaffold. Both men turned and looked in his direction.
“Hey Wood,” Clay shouted back.
“You’re early,” Ben said when Woody got close.
“Traffic,” he replied. He took a quick glance around the area. “Where’re the others?”
“They’re in the pit,” Ben responded, nodding toward the far corner of the area. There was another opening in the cavern’s wall, smaller than that of the entrance, leading to a connecting chamber.
“There’s something I think you should see,” Ben continued. He turned away from Woody. “Hey,” he shouted up to Clay’s position.
Clay turned and lifted the safety goggles from his eyes. What the hell do you want now, was the expression on his face.
“I’m going into the pit. Think you can manage by yourself?” Ben asked.
“Manage by myself?” Clay echoed, a stupefied look on his face. “It ain’t rocket science man!”
“Well try not to fuck it up like you did the last one,” Ben retorted as he grabbed his flashlight. He turned back to Woody. “After you chief.”
The section referred to as the pit was discovered just a few weeks earlier during a routine drilling operation and was much smaller than its spacious counterpart. Due to its recent discovery it had no source of lighting so the team had to rely on battery powered floodlights to illuminate its interior.
Norton Chambers, Sid Prickly, Paxton Green and Jimmy Burton – more team members – were to the far corner of the pit, huddled around a chasmic opening. A small pulley was fixed to the floor just a few feet from where they stood and Paxton was being fitted with a harness.
“What’s going on here guys?” Woody asked as he approached. The four men turned, spotting their lights in his direction.
“Come see for yourself,” Sid answered.
Woody walked over to where the others stood and examined the hole. It was about three feet in diameter and tunneled into the cavern’s floor for about four or five feet, where it opened up to form a large void. The void itself was pitch-black and Woody could feel a slight draught rising out of it as he leaned over and peered inside. He flicked on his flashlight and aimed it into the chasm. The beam barely made it a couple yards before becoming completely obscured by a thick shroud of darkness.
“So, what do you think?” Sid asked, peering over Woody’s shoulder. “Bitch runs pretty deep huh.”
“Who found this?” Woody asked, turning to face the men.
“That’d be me Wood,” Norton replied. “I was doing some hammerin’ when the floor gave way. It swallowed my hammer…nearly sucked my ass in too.”
“So you plan to have him fish it out for ya?” Woody asked, nodding toward Paxton who was securing the pulley’s cable to the harness.
“I volunteered actually,” Paxton said. “That’s my favorite hammer.”
Norton, Sid and Jimmy chuckled briefly.
“Nort, how deep is it?” Woody asked.
“I’d say about thirty feet from the sound of the drop.” Norton replied.
“Sounded more like fifty to me,” Jimmy interjected.
“Shut the fuck up,” Norton snapped. “You weren’t even over here when it fell in.” He turned back to Woody. “Thirty feet,” he assured.
Woody looked from Norton to Jimmy, who was muttering something under his breath, then turned to face Ben.
“What do you think?” He asked. “Should we take a look?”
“Like the man said, it’s his favorite hammer,” Ben replied, grinning. “Besides, this is what we’re paid to do right…drill and explore.”
Woody turned back toward the chasm and picked up a small rock that was sitting close to its mouth. He stared into the void contemplatively, then dropped it inside.
After a couple seconds it thudded against the void’s floor with a dull and distant crack; the sound of the impact echoing briefly off the chasm’s enveloping walls.
“You all buckled up there Paxton?” Woody asked, still gazing into the void.
“All buckled up.” Paxton replied. He tugged the harness as if to prove its sturdiness.
Woody stood to his feet and turned to face him. “Okay then, let’s go get that hammer.”
Paxton nodded and Jimmy began feeding cable from the pulley as he walked toward the void.
Ben did a final check on the harness. Satisfied, he allowed Norton and Sid to lower Paxton into the hole, while Jimmy continued to slowly feed the cable. When Paxton was chest deep into the void Ben Raised his fist and Jimmy halted the cable feed.
“Here you go,” Norton said, handing Paxton a large flashlight. “You’re gonna need this.”
Woody stooped and tugged the harness; one last check.
“Alright Pax,” he said. “We’re gonna take you down nice and slow and I want you to shout as soon as you can see the bottom.” He turned to look at Norton. “And it’s fifty feet Nort, not thirty.”
Norton lowered his head slightly with a diminished expression on his face, while Jimmy chuckled to himself in satisfaction.
Woody turned back to Paxton. “You ready?”
Paxton tilted his head backward and stared into the blackness below him. “Fire away,” he said, grabbing hold of the cable connecting to his harness.
Ben made a twirling motion with his hand and Jimmy started feeding the cable once more.
“Nice and easy Jim,” Ben said, still twirling his hand, “nice and easy.”
The four men gazed into the chasm as Paxton made his slow descent.
As he entered the void he was immediately encompassed by layers of thick, cold darkness. The only thing visible was the hole above his head and the faces of the men surrounding it as he aimed his flashlight in either direction, trying to catch a glimpse of something other than the void’s abysmal darkness.
“Wooo… I can’t see shit,” Paxton shouted. “It’s like sticking your face in wet tar and then opening your eyes.”
He swung himself around slightly, still spotting his light.
“How the fuck would you know that? Did someone stick your face in tar?” Sid shouted down to him, grinning.
“Your wife did once,” Paxton shouted back. The men chuckled.
“Remind me to knock your teeth in when you get back up here,” Sid shouted.
“Awww, you know you love me ma-”
The beam of the flashlight fell on something below where Paxton loomed, suspended by the harness and cable.
“I think I see the floor boys,” he shouted, straining his eyes to make out the glinting object.
“You see the hammer yet?” Nort shouted.
“I think so.”
“Can you see anything else?” Ben questioned.
“Naw. It’s still to dark to make anything out.”
Woody stood to his feet and stretched his legs, still gazing into the void. Paxton was becoming less and less visible as he got deeper into the chasm.
A few moments later, all that could be seen of him was the beam of his light as it shifted in the darkness.
“Alright, I can see the hammer,” Paxton shouted suddenly, his voice echoing as it traveled from the depths of the void. “It doesn’t look too banged up.”
“What else can you see?” Ben shouted back.
“Hold on a sec.”
There was a moment’s silence.
“I can see some walls now,” he shouted finally. “Whew, this bitch is huge.”
“How huge?” Woody questioned, leaning forward.
“Hard to tell,” Paxton replied, his voice sounding hazy and distant, “probably a couple hundred feet.”
“Couple hundred feet,” Ben said looking at Woody. “That void runs through the entire level.”
“That’s what I was afraid of,” Woody replied, a stern look of concern covering his face.
He turned away from the chasm to face the men. “I can’t have my team working over a fifty foot cavity. It aint safe!”
“What do you plan to do?” Ben asked. All eyes were on Woody now.
He thought for a moment. “I’m going to Hartford.”
“Frank ‘the boss’ Hartford?” Sid asked, a bemused expression on his face.
“Who else?” Woody replied. “I’m gonna get you guys pulled off this level until they can deal with this.” He nodded toward the chasm.
Sid chuckled briefly. “Frank aint never gonna go for that.”
“He’ll have no choice.”
“Why not?”
“Cause if he gives me any shit I’ll-”
“Hey guys,” Paxton shouted suddenly causing Woody to trail off his sentence. The men turned their attention back toward the chasm. “I’m almost on the groun-”
The cable jerked suddenly.
“WHOA!” Paxton bellowed. His voice sounded surprised and highly amused at the same time.
“What the hell happened just now Paxton?” Woody shouted into the darkness.
“I just fucking saw somethi-”
Another sudden jerk from the cable.
“Holy shit, there it is again!” Paxton shouted, his voice bordering on panic.
“Cut the feed!” Woody screamed at Jimmy, who instantly complied. The cable feed was immediately halted.
“Paxton, what the hell’s going on in there?” Woody trained his flashlight down into the chasm but the beam was swallowed by the darkness.
“There’s something down here man,” he replied after a few seconds, “and this fucker is fast!”

Wildcard · 05-08-2008, 05:44 PM

“What is it?” Woody shouted.
“I don’t know… it looks like some kind of… JESUS CHRI-”
The cable began jerking violently from side to side and an ear shattering scream emerged from the void’s depths.
“Oh shit… oh fuck… it’s on me man… IT’S FUCKING ON M-”
Another scream erupted; this one more chilling than the last.
“PAXTON!” Woody bellowed. He shot a frantic glance over to Jimmy. “Bring him up. “NOW!”
Jimmy fired up the pulley, a bewildered expression on his face. The cable was still jerking violently and Paxton was still screaming as the cable retracted.
“PAXTON!”
They were all shouting for him now, but he just continued his mind numbing screams.
For a brief moment the jerking, and the screaming, intensified.
Then they stopped, almost abruptly.
The cable was completely still as it continued its rapid ascension and Paxton’s screams were nothing more than echoes now.
“Pax… Pax can you hear me?” Woody shouted.
The men watched on in nervous anticipation, flashlights still aimed at the chasm. The outline of his shape came into view as he emerged from the darkness.
His body was still. Too still.
Paxton finally came within range of the flashlights and Woody’s eyes widened with horror at what he saw. He absently lifted a hand to his face and pulled the respirator from his mouth, letting it dangle beneath his chin.
“Holy Christ,” came Ben’s voice from beside him.

Paxton’s body dangled from the end of the cable the way a puppet would from the end of a string. His arms and legs hung loosely and his head lolled as he was drawn to within grabbing distance of the men that stood staring down at him with equal shocked expressions. At Woody’s signal Jimmy halted the retracting cable and anxiously made his way over to where his colleagues were gathered just as they had begun pulling Paxton’s limp body from the chasm.
Jimmy was never much for religion but the words “Dear God” issued from his mouth almost instinctively as he looked over the man being dragged from the hole. He would have helped – he wanted to help – but he just stood there with his mouth hanging open and his fists clenched, as the color drained from his already pallid face.
He watched as they lifted Paxton clear of the chasm and laid his body directly in front of where he stood frozen in place. He watched as Paxton’s head fell lifelessly to one side against its own weight, revealing the large lacerations on his cheeks and neck. He watched as blood oozed from these lacerations, forming a puddle on the cavern’s cold and rugged floor. He watched as Sid took two blind steps backward, seemingly entranced, and almost toppled into the chasm that Paxton had emerged from, until Norton grabbed and steadied him. He watched as Woody, who was knelt beside the body, suddenly fell backward as Paxton suddenly began thrashing violently on the cavern’s floor, kicking and screaming at the top of his lungs as he clawed at his chest. He remembered thinking Oh Christ, as warm urine darkened his jeans and trickled down his legs, as Ben and Woody tried to steady the convulsing body lying before him.
He could hear Woody’s voice calling out to him “Gimme a hand Jimmy,” but he just stood there, paralyzed with fear and smelling of his own piss as his legs shook beneath him. He watched as Paxton began coughing up mouthfuls of blood as he twisted his head violently from side to side, bellowing the same words over and over. “It’s in me…It’s in me… It’s in me!”
He watched Paxton’s chest heave, and his eyes roll back in their sockets as his screams turned into gurgling moans. He watched as the thrashing became less and less intense until finally, the man’s body became once again as limp as it had been when they first drew him from the hole. He watched as Woody’s hands became drenched with blood as he cradled Paxton’s motionless head between them, tears tumbling from his eyes as he screamed his name over and over again.
Let this be a nightmare, he thought. Dear Christ let this be a nightmare.
Jimmy wanted nothing more than to wake up and find himself covered in sweat on his bed next to his wife. He wanted nothing more than to hear her voice assuring him that it was just a bad dream and urging him to go back to sleep. So he closed his eyes.
He began to feel himself slipping beyond the confines of consciousness, as his legs grew weak beneath his weight.
All a dream, he thought. All just a dream.
When he opened his eyes, he would no longer be in this place but at home on his bed with his wife by his side.
All just a dream.
He opened his eyes, but he was still in the cavern staring at the dead body of his friend. He was still standing in his own piss with his hands clenched at his sides.
A sudden chill enveloped his body and the cavern began to rapidly spiral around him. He raised his hand and touched his temple as his legs grew even weaker.
“You all right Jimmy?” He heard someone ask. He tried to say no, I’m not all right, but the words never left his mouth.
Just before the world went black, and just before his legs gave out from under him, Jimmy remembered asking himself one question. Why won’t I wake up?

slayerofangels · 05-09-2008, 07:42 PM

Everything up until you mention Woody Claremont can be cut out or shortened. It doesn't seem to add anything for me. The rest is in need of a good edit and is a bit confusing. Whose point of view are you telling this from?

Wildcard · 05-10-2008, 01:07 PM

I am not telling it from any particular p.o.v. I am simply relaying the events as they unfold for each character.

slayerofangels · Yesterday, 05:16 AM

In that case I don't know what to do for you. The switch between characters is very abrupt and leaves me wondering why you used any point of view other than Jimmy's. If he is the guy strapped down in that room at the start, then you could try to focus more on his day and see the other characters' actions through his eyes. Just a thought.

Good luck.