The Glass Top Coffin (standard:drama, 2006 words) [3/12] show all parts
Author: Stephen-Carver Byrd	Added: Dec 31 2002	Views/Reads: 2600/1968	Part vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
***Part 3*** Death Lies Deep And Dark

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

“An undertaking that big takes a lot of time and planning. Land
acquisition for one thing. That's their biggest enemy. Can't just walk 
in here and take a man's land, got to pay them something for it and 
believe me, they wont pay them half of what it's actually worth. 
They're supposed to pay what the land is worth according to the record 
books, but those Ducks seldom play by the rules. What they'll use is 
the fear factor. They won't buy anything at first; they'll just keep 
preaching this project in the papers and waving it in front of 
everyone's face, scarring the last light of Hell out of them. People 
will begin to panic and practically give their land away just to get 
out. Others will see what's happening and will try to get shed of their 
property too. But what idiot is going to buy it from them? Who in the 
name of hell would buy land that was staring death straight in the 
face? By then the value of the land will have dropped to near nothing. 
That's when those Power Company Ducks step in and acquire everything 
for the price of horse shit. Damn shame but it's the good Lord's 
truth.” 

“Then there'll be all the lawsuits,” the old man continued. “Yeah, some
of the more affluent folks might try to fight them in the courts. But 
they won't win. Suits and appeals could drag on for years and years, 
but they won't win. Lawyers will just take their money and run. Never 
met a lawyer in my life that gave a shit about ecology and 
conservation. Need someone important that can stand up to those bastard 
Ducks. Someone who has a lot of money and a will to spend it. Someone 
with a lot of influence that could change many minds. Just about all 
the people around these parts are just common folks. They know nothing 
about legalities and such. They'll just pack up their old cars and 
trucks and move along. What else can they do?” 

Jordan leaned back into the rocker and started rocking very slowly
looking blindly threw a crude side window that framed a huge tobacco 
field. Mr. Moore who always keeps a wiping towel in his back pocket, 
the way a football referee carries his yellow flag, jerked it out and 
began cleaning the candy shelves for the third time today. “The man 
also told me the area around this store would be the very epicenter or 
ground-zero of the lake.” 

“What's an epicenter and a ground-zero?” Jordan asked. 

Mr. Moore momentarily popped the towel back into his hind pocket and
tapped one finger into the center of his open palm. “Just some fancy 
words for smack-dab-in-the-middle,” he said shaking his head. “Not only 
is this area going to be the center of the lake, the man also told me 
it's going to be the “apex saturation point,” another fancy word for 
the deepest part of the lake. Want to know how deep it's going to be, 
and I‘m talking right here, right where this very store sits?” he asked 
Jordan. “The man told me it's going to be roughly 580 feet deep. That's 
almost two football fields long, well, in this case, two football 
fields straight up.” Jordan stopped rocking and stopped breathing. He 
felt cold inside, icy cold, a sensation that made him wonder if his 
heart was still beating. 

Mr. Moore glanced up at Bullwrinke and frowned. His rag began popping
the old fellow's nose, cleaning off a few spots of dust. “That brother 
of mine, the one in Kentucky, they built a similar reservoir up his way 
a few years back. I took a ride up there about a year after it was 
completed. They had already started constructing parks and camping 
areas around it. New marinas were popping up and people were building 
beautiful new homes around the shore. It looked real pretty like. 
However, that's what the Power Company wanted them to believe ‘Look 
what a fool you've been trying to fight us off. Look what a beautiful 
recreation area  that we've brought to your fair little community.' 
“But that's bullshit. What they didn't tell you is they first had to 
commit a murder. When my brother and I got his boat onto the lake we 
quickly discovered who the victim was.” 

“I remember how calm and crystal the water was that day. Looking deep
into the lake, you could see it everywhere, death and total 
destruction. It went on for miles and miles. Houses with little picked 
fences and backyards full of swing sets and dollhouses, abandon cars, 
tractors even old school buses. These were people's homes and lives; 
they're dearest memories at one time. Everything appeared intact as far 
as I could tell. It looked like a little world that was frozen in clear 
solid acrylic. Then we spotted this two-lane highway and decided to 
follow it along. Hell, no reason to worry about getting lost out there, 
all you needed to do was pull out an old road map and follow the 
highways along. Well anyway, we followed this road for a couple of 
miles up lake and the destruction just continued. We saw along the way, 
little country stores, farmhouses, barns, you name it. Even the phone 
poles along the road still had their transformers and wires attached. 
Then we passed over this little church and I caught sight of the 
graveyard sitting off to the left. I could see some of the departed and 
been removed, buried elsewhere, but many were not. I could easily make 
out their headstones. Guess these poor souls had no living relatives to 
help and the Power Company certainly wasn't getting into the 
grave-digging business. We passed over a little roadside restaurant and 
motel, small businesses, a trailer park, more houses, some with brick 
chimneys that were still supporting TV antennas. Then the road came to 
a four-way stop. Hell, even the stop signs were still standing. 

“Why didn't they just bulldoze all this down before they let the water
in?” Jordan asked, and then realized how stupid his question sounded. 

“No need to, the water would take care of everything in a few years. We
then passed over what looked to be a high school. Off to the right was 
the baseball field. The diamond was clearly visible lacking only the 
bases. Further off to the right sat the football field, complete with 
both home and visitor's bleachers. One of the goal post was lying in 
the murk; the other was leaning heavily off to one side. We pressed on 
passing over some fields. Of course there was nothing down there, just 
thick shadowy mud. Then the fields tapered off into a deep forest. It 
was a bright summer day up on the surface, but looking beneath us 
appeared more like a cold winter afternoon. Most of the trees were 
still standing, but some of the bigger boys had already slipped in the 
mud and were lying flat on their backs. The ones that had managed to 
keep their balance looked like giant dead twigs sticking up. No life at 
all left in them. Mr. Moore looked down at Jordan. The boy's mouth was 
hanging open and his big green eyes were the size of a Franklin 
half-dollar. 

“It didn't feel like we were on a boat, it felt more like we were on an
airplane, looking down at a lifeless countryside. But you know what it 
really felt like, Jordi? Sort of like we were riding across the top of 
a glass top coffin and looking down onto someone dead. Seemed almost 
disrespectful to stare. About three years later, we went back out on 
the boat. The water was just a clear as it had been the first time out, 
but now everything was gone, sunk deep into bottomless mud, just 
vanished.” 

“Mr. Moore I don't think I could ever come back here and see what you
did if they flood this area,” Jordan trembled. “I've lived here all my 
life and I couldn't even imagine seeing what you did. I mean, right 
here in Falls Hills. I'm getting sick just thinking about it.” 

“I know what you mean, son. All that destruction, it's a sight your mind
never let's you forget.” 


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