Beneath the Freeway
by Eric Grizzle

I dreamed of you again last night.

I know you are here. You've never left. You never could leave and I am sorry. Since my arrival back in town to care for my dying grandmother, I have felt you.

I didn't want to believe it at first. I would hear a song that we "shared" in a grocery store or catch your favorite perfume when no one else was around. I have seen your eyes in people that I meet. I have seen that quirky little smile/smirk thing you'd do when I'd pass strangers. At night, I can almost smell your fragrant hair moving the curtains as I lay in bed, listening to the raspy sounds of nana's breathing in the next room. Laying in a much too tiny bed, I watched lightning play with the shadows on my wall as a squall line bared in from eastern New Mexico. Doppler Dave was belting out warnings for the approaching storm on nana's television, telling us to stay indoors and keep it on channel 10 for more news.

I stared at the ceiling, thinking of you all those years ago and what might have been. You were so beautiful and sensual. I began to hear the sound of water rushing and gurgling and I saw the sky split in two by a fierce thunderbolt. Danny and Ellone was standing at the culvert opening, looking into it's black maw where the water was rushing to and grinning like two lunatics.

I was afraid of going in there. I stood ankle deep in rushing water, coming from all the roads and side streets, down into this opening, watching it disappear angrily into the opening beneath the busy freeway. In between rolling thunder, you could hear traffic above and out of sight, shake the ground.

"Let's go in, Eric," Danny whispered, smiling like he'd just received the cutest puppy for Christmas. He was wearing the same Tommy jeans and green polo shirt that I had last seen him in.

The rain began to fall in sheets and the water around my ankles began to climb up my calves. Ellone sat down, feet first into the opening and turned her head, still grinning that idiotic way in the deepening twilight. Then she slid into the tunnel. Danny took position behind her and soon disappeared into the hole.

Next, I entered the culvert, sliding along the water, feeling the hysteria begin to creep up my spine. The cement beneath me felt slick with slime, and I tried to stop from imaging all the rats and snakes that must make homes in
dark, cool places. I could see in that tunnel, as if it had hidden skylights. Ellone slid along and Danny followed close behind. We were going further down into the earth but the rumble and growl of hotrods and monstrous 18 wheelers
seemed like it was only inches overhead.

The tunnel split to the left and continued straight ahead. Ellone and Danny seemed to pause a moment and then choose the left branch, laughing like school kids at recess. I stopped myself with my hands at the branching and
saw the steep incline into utter darkness to the left. My former friends were gone.

Then I saw you. You were caught up against the wall a little further down in front of me. At first, I didn't know it was you. The water was deeper here and it was causing your body to bob and ebb against the wall, almost delicately like a lover's touch. Your right eye was gone and the skin on that side of your face hung in bluish ribbons, exposing a dirty skull. The hair that I had loved to run my fingers through was thick was sewer muck.

The dream began to close in, like sand falling through the glass. I knew that I was in a bad place. You turned your head and looked at me with your one good, milky eye and smiled that little smile you do. The lips were cracked and blackened. I felt revulsion rise up and I turned around to scramble back up the chute I had just came.

Rain water was rushing harder now, trying to bring me into your cold arms. I chanced one more look back to see you trying to push your dead body to your feet, arms outstretched to pull me back into the secrets of the tunnel and give me a lasting lover's kiss.

I woke up with the scent of rain and honeysuckle from the passing storm. Nana continued to breathe like a rusted machine in the next room. Some teenager down the block tore wet gravel, possibly even with a Barracuda like I used to have, and as he turned a corner and I heard a woman's laugh. It was gentle and beautiful, sort of like the tinkling of small, silver bells. It was the same kind of laugh that would compliment the sparkling light in your eyes when you were amused. And outside, the rain fell heartily across the Channel 10 viewing area, rushing along sidewalks and filling up drainage ditches, hurrying to carry secrets far underground.

©2001 Eric Grizzle