The Drowned Life Read Online Free PDF Page A

hope. That is, until he entered a compartment so small, he couldn’t turn around to use the key but had to do it with his hands behind his back, his chin pressed against his chest. “This has got to be the last one,” he thought, unsure if he could squeeze his shoulders through the next opening. Before he could insert the key into the lock on the tiny door before him, a steel plate fell and blocked access to it. He heard a swoosh and a bang behind him and knew another metal plate had covered the door going back.
    â€œHow are you doing, Mr. Hatch?” he heard Munro’s voice say.
    By dipping one shoulder Hatch was able to turn his head and see a speaker built into the wall. “How do I get through these last rooms?” he yelled. “They’re too small and metal guards have fallen in front of the doors.”
    â€œThat’s the point,” called Munro. “You don’t. You, my friend, are trapped, and will remain trapped forever in that tight uncomfortable place.”
    â€œWhat are you talking about? Why?” Hatch was frantic. Hetried to lunge his body against the walls but there was nowhere for it to go.
    â€œMy wife, Rotzy. You know how she went under? What sank her? She was ill, Mr. Hatch. She was seriously ill but her health insurance denied her coverage. You, Mr. Hatch, personally said no .”
    This time what flared before Hatch’s inner eye was not his life, but all the many pleading, frustrated, angry voices that had traveled in one of his ears and out the other in his service to the HMO. “I’m not responsible” was all he could think to say in his defense.
    â€œMy wife used to tell me, ‘Isaac, we’re all responsible.’ Now you can wait, as she waited for relief, for what was rightly due her. You’ll wait forever, Hatch.”
    There was a period where he struggled. He couldn’t tell how long it lasted, but nothing came of it, so he closed his eyes, made his breathing more steady and shallow, and went into his brain, across the first floor to the basement door. He opened it and could smell the scent of the dark wood wafting up the steps. Locking the door behind him, he descended into the dark.

• SEVEN •
    The woods were frightening, but he’d take anything over the claustrophobia of Munro’s trap. Each dim lightbulb he came to was a godsend, and he put his hands up to it for the little warmth it offered against the wind. He noticed that strange creatures prowled around the bulbs like antelopes around waterholes. They darted behind the trees, spying on him, pale specters whose faces were masks made of bone. He was sure that one was his cousin Martin, a malevolent boy who’d cut the head off a kitten. He’d not seen himin more than thirty years. He also spotted his mother-in-law, who was his mother-in-law with no hair and short tusks. She grunted orders to him from the shadows. He kept moving and tried to ignore them.
    When Hatch couldn’t walk any farther, he came to a clearing in the forest. There, in the middle of nowhere, in the basement of his brain, sat twenty yards of street with a brownstone situated behind a wide sidewalk. There were steps leading up to twin doors and an electric light glowed next to the entrance. As he drew near, he could make out the address in brass numerals at the base of the steps—322.
    He stumbled over to the bottom step and dropped down onto it. Hatch leaned forward, his elbows on his knees and his hands covering his face. He tried to weep till his eyes closed out of exhaustion. What seemed a second later, he heard a car horn and looked up.
    â€œThere’s no crying in baseball, asshole,” said Rose. She was leaning her head out the driver’s side window of their SUV. There was a light on in the car and he could see both their sons were in the backseat, pointing at him.
    â€œHow’d you find me?” he asked.
    â€œThe Internet,” said Rose.