Black Water by Joyce Carol Oates

Author:Joyce Carol Oates
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub, azw3, pdf
Tags: Man-Woman Relationships, Legislators, Drowning Victims, Traffic Accidents, Literary, Young Women, Fiction
ISBN: 9780452269866
Publisher: Plume
Published: 1992-01-02T05:00:00+00:00

THIRTEEN

SUDDENLY THE SHACKLES that had once held Alan captive had fallen off. Without warning. Without explanation. Something about that should have disturbed him. But it didn’t. Instead he was glad to be free. And this woman. This woman named Camille somehow rescued him.

Or he rescued himself.

Didn’t really matter to him.

He was free; now he would break free from this “Transylvania” and find the ones responsible for the kidnapping. He looked up at Camille, eyes full of unlimited questions. Questions he was not yet prepared to ask. Camille gave him a reassuring smile and took him by the hand.

“Come on,” she said. “I have to show you something.”

Alan stood up for the first time. His legs felt weak from poor blood circulation but he was otherwise okay.

“Where are we going?”

“You wouldn’t understand it if I told you.”

She tugged at his arm but Alan stiffened his body. Camille glanced at him.

“It’s daylight. The creature only comes out at night.”

His muscles relaxed.

“Come on,” she said.

As she led him down the hall, Alan observed the bare wooden walls. Rotting wood. Something out of a haunted house. Tranquil chandeliers. Vanity crown moldings. No pictures, though. No paintings, no furniture, no rugs…no nothing.

Except rooms. Each door was shut tight. Light crept out from underneath some of the cracks and Alan had to wonder if there was an opened window to aide him in escape. But he would play Camille’s childish game of guess-what-surprise-I-have-to-show-you for the moment. Mostly out of curiosity.

Curiosity.

That’s what plagued him now.

Curiosity.

He lifted up his left hand, as Camille latched on to his other in leadership, and studied his wrist, turning it from side to side in the air with the same unanswered questions. Nothing he had ever experienced has ever compared to what just happened minutes ago. If someone had told him of such a tale he would have suspected the storyteller as wildly hallucinating, made possible by having one too many drinks.

Our four.

It was something out of a movie with make-believe characters. Some writer’s careful creation. Unreal. Now, this was the movie and he was the make-believe character. Almost exciting. Close to disturbing. Mostly alarming. What kind of world existed where the thoughts of a man superseded physical interaction? All the attempts made to yank those chains from its foundation had failed. Yet a thought—one simple thought—did what all his brute strength had no power to accomplish.

Interesting. Scary? Alarming.

He lowered his wrist just as he and Camille neared a massive opening. Alan made out a Victorian wooden banister that appeared to trace the contours of a loft. More rooms on the other side. More light. Lots of light. Too much light and…stairs!

Alan’s heart leaped at the same time his vision became a white haze. Night vision. All light was magnified ten times with his night sensors on. He blinked twice, focusing on an imaginary ball in the back of his head, to the left, and his normal sight returned. Colors. Dark brown wood, almost black. In fact, everything he saw was that color.

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