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CRACKS AND HOLES (03 September 2008)

"Laura!?"
The dark-haired woman standing in the knee-deep hole paused for a moment in her digging, and looked up at the new arrival.
"Oh. Hello, Tanya." She resumed digging. Slow, methodical.
Tanya stared with wide eyes.
"Laura... what... what... why are you doing that?"
"Because Johnny told me to." Laura's voice was calm and earnest.
"Johnny... John Davini?"
"Of course." Another large shovelful of grey dirt pattered down on the growing pile beside the hole. Overhead, equally grey clouds scudded silently across the late afternoon sky. Birds twittered in the trees. Tanya tried to wrap her mind around what was being said.
"He... told you to... strip down to your underwear... and dig a hole?"
A glance down at a dark-skinned, well-curved body. More dirt scattering.
"Yes."
"Laura... why... why... did you listen to him?"
Laura's eyes, pools of placid chocolate, looked up from amid long strands of dirty, disheveled hair. Her leather-gloved hands gripped the shovel. Her feet were booted as well, all of her appendages thus clashing wildly with the rest of her attire.

"Because I had to. He explained it to me."
"Laura. Listen to me." The slender blonde woman at the edge of the hole hissed. "He's... he's done something to you. I knew something was wrong. That's why I followed you out here. He's done something, and whatever it is, you have to fight it! We have to..."
"Hey, Tanya."
It wasn't Laura who replied. The new voice spoke from the edge of the clearing, and Tanya spun around. Laura didn't react, but continued silently shovelling.
"You." Tanya glared at the speaker, her hands clenched. "What have you done to her, you bastard?"
The man in the black jacket smiled sadly, tilted his head.
"'Done to her?' I didn't do anything 'to' her, babe. I just showed her what had to be done, and she got to work. She's a good little worker." He paused thoughtfully, his hands in his jacket pockets, his mirrored sunglasses flashing at her. "And ya know, when I saw that you were following us up here, it sure seemed to me that you would make a good little worker, too."
It took a moment for his words to sink in. Then, her blue eyes grew even wider with outrage.
"I would make...? I don't know what you did here, but if you think, for one minute, that I..."
"Just look at this place, Tanya." He smoothly interrupted her. "Doncha ya think it'd look so much better, so much more... I dunno... perfect, if there was a nice, deep, hole right there in the middle of it all?" He casually extracted one long-fingered hand from its resting place and pointed. "Go on. Take a look. Just turn around, and take a look."
Tanya closed her mouth with a click, her lips pressing themselves together.
She turned around.
She looked.
And she could see where the hole should be. Its future outlines glowed in her mind; Laura had barely gotten started.
And without the hole, the clearing was pointless. No, worse than pointless. Without the hole, the clearing's angles were all wrong, all warped viciously out of shape by all of the dirt that was in the incorrect place. The clot of dirt that clogged the hole was a hideous, crusty, scab that had to be picked off, scraped...
"No!" She screamed and spun back towards him. Somehow, she expected him to be looming over her, but he stood exactly where he had been before, still smiling sadly, his hand back in his pocket, his eyes and thoughts hidden behind the glasses. "I won't! I don't know what you're... you're... but..." She trailed off and clutched at her head.
John spoke, sounding tired, almost defeated.
"You know, Tanya, I really wish you girls would quit trying to make me into the bad guy here. I already had to waste valuable time explaining this to Laura, and I really don't need more grief from you. I'm just trying to do what's best for everyone. Don't you see? This hole has to be dug. Because I have some things that have to be put in the hole, and buried. Buried deep, where no one can find them. Ever again." He saw her expression remain unchanged, and he sighed in deep exasperation. "Women." He shrugged. "OK. Fine. Come on. I see that I'll have to show you, too." He turned and strolled back through the ring of trees that surrounded the clearing, not looking to see if she was following him.
Which she was. Silently, stumbling over the rough ground, her shoes kicking up brittle yellow and orange leaves. John had seemed to pass through the ring as easily as a ghost, but the dead branches only reluctantly cracked and snapped as she pushed them aside.
Beyond the trees, there were three cars pulled up on the side of the narrow country road: Laura's Jetta, its door standing open, Tanya's Saab, and an unfamiliar pickup. Tanya's eyes were drawn to that third vehicle. The fiery red truck was ornate, its crouching bulk coated with chrome and riding on a jacked-up suspension and large inky-black wheels. Silver hubcaps sparkled brightly even in the growing gloom. The truck's deep bed had been backed up against the edge of the woods, and stood open to the sky.
Tanya didn't remember seeing the truck before when she had parked, after finally finding Laura's car...
But it must have been there...
Right?
John strolled towards the truck, Tanya and her sputtering thoughts trailing in his wake. They arrived, and there was a long moment of windswept silence before John sighed again, and nodded towards the bed.
"See?"
Tanya moved so that she stood right next to him, and looked into the bed. A large canvas tarp had been untied and meticulously rolled back, revealing objects piled underneath. Several of them, all rather bulky, all well wrapped in more heavy canvas and firmly tied and knotted with long lengths of new white rope.
She stared.
It was like assembling a jigsaw puzzle in her mind. Or more accurately, witnessing the construction of a puzzle whose pieces were hacked from material inside her mind. She could still see the hole in the clearing, and she could see where each of the... Objects would go, once the hole was finished. Neatly stacked and interlaced, no gaps or wasted space. No cracks. The Hole was for the Objects. The Objects were for the Hole. Until the Objects were in the Hole, buried deep in the Hole, the clearing... no, the entire universe... was horribly out of balance. Until the Objects were safely filling the Hole, large blocks of her brain were shifted out of alignment, all grinding painfully against each other like tectonic plates on a faultline. In the cracks between, throbbing, bubbling, magma... interior flesh rubbed raw...
She stared.
"I said, Tanya, do you see? You understand, now?"
She was silent for a moment longer, then nodded slowly and spoke, her voice grave and earnest.
"Yes, Johnny. I understand very clearly now. Thank you for taking the time to explain it to me."
He flashed a smile, his previous annoyance gone like drops of water boiled off a hot skillet.
"No problem, babe. Now, I have some gloves and boots for ya here in the truck. And there's a shovel there. You strip down, and put 'em on, and get to work." He tousled her hair, disrupting the loose knot into which she had tied it.
At his touch, a last tiny corner of rebellion flared in her mind. Not about the digging. That was no longer a question. But...
"Do... do I have to... work in my underwear...." She almost whispered the words.
He laughed, and again stroked her hair.
And flushing, she realized what a foolish question it had been. She remembered the hideous, festering, scab of dirt back in the clearing, and she now saw that the very fibers of her bulky, constricting garments were somehow deeply intertwined with that mass, like hair sprouting out of a wart. If she wore them while digging, the job would take ten times as long, be ten times as difficult. She may as well get down under the dirt and try to dig up.
She unzipped and shrugged off her cumbersome, bulky, jacket.
Her breath misting, she pulled off her sweater and jeans and shoes, each of which had gotten all wrapped and tangled around her limbs, constricting her, holding her back. The cool air made her skin on her long legs and arms goosepimple for a moment, but then her clean cotton bra and panties began pulsing, sending out perfectly balanced waves of coolness and warmth. And she felt fine. She was properly attired now. Free of all entanglements. Ready for action. She left her discarded garments lying in a scattered heap on the roadside, and pulled on the boots and gloves. Johnny had already vanished back into the woods, and she picked up the shiny new shovel and followed him. The price tag from the hardware store was still tied around the handle of the shovel, and it fluttered as she walked. She absently shook her head, spilling her hair the rest of the way free so that it floated around her shoulders in the slight breeze.
Laura looked up again for a moment when Tanya joined her in the Hole, but said nothing.
They both dug, not hurrying, but not stopping even for a moment, the biting and scooping sound of the shovels in the dirt very loud now in the stillness. The birds had fallen silent. Johnny stood nearby and watched, also in silence. He smoked a cigarette, and occasionally he would glance at the sky, evidently watching the sun slowly drop down behind the gathering clouds. The cigarette's glowing red tip floated and circled in front of his blackness and his sparkling, smiling, teeth.
A few splatters of rain fell.
Finally the hole was finished, deep and sheer and nicely square in the thick clay-filled earth. Laura and Tanya clambered out, still carrying the shovels. They stood at attention, side by side, while Johnny walked around their work, checking it from all angles. Finally, he gave a wordless nod, and the two workers discarded the shovels and returned to the road and the truck once again. The tailgate was waiting for them, already hanging open like a fully-extended tongue. They began unloading the Objects, hauling each one between them to the Hole and carefully, almost reverently, lowering it into place. Fitting it neatly against the others. Filling the gaps. Bringing the universe, and Tanya's mind, back into alignment.
As she worked, Tanya noticed for a moment that some of the Objects seemed to be leaking something dark and wet and sticky, large ugly stains soaking and blotching even through the meticulous wrapping job.
But then she just didn't think about it anymore, the fact slithering down into one of the many cracks in her mind and vanishing.
Several trips later, the last Object was slotted into place, and Tanya's brain almost completely reassembled itself into the proper shape, a Rubick's Cube with only one or two blocks of colors still out of position. There was another careful inspection and nod from Johnny, and the two women began shovelling the dirt back into the hole. With every scoop and toss and pack, the cracks grew narrower, the fissures sealing themselves shut, the hot throbbing redness reluctantly retreating back underground.
And when the last scoop was packed and stomped into place and covered with piles of branches, they vanished altogether, leaving not even a hairline trace behind.
Tanya paused and stared.
Something went with them, was buried in the hole as well.
Memory.
________________________________________
Tanya stood in a tree-ringed clearing on the outskirts of town, and stared at the flattened mound of dirt and brush in front of her. She was holding a shovel in her gloved hand. There had been something here, something important. But now it was gone. Filled in and covered over forever.
Someone laughed behind her, a wonderful, world-filling laugh that lit up large chunks of her brain, connected them together in raw, orgasmic ways she had never imagined possible. She turned, feeling as if she was floating a few inches above the ground.
Johnny... Johnny... was standing there. He smiled, flashed two rows of blazing white teeth.
Tanya smiled back, as she realized once again that he was the most handsome man she had ever seen.
The most handsome, and the most wonderful. He was the only man, the only person, in the world who was truly alive, fully three-dimensional. The only one who could keep all of her Holes filled, make all her Cracks go away.
And in her gratitude, she'd do anything he told her to do. Do anything he told her to do, go anywhere he told her to go, be anything he told her to be. He laughed again, sparkling, and spoke as he flicked away the final remnant of a dead cigarette.
"All done, girls. Good job. Just forget about all of this. Forever. Now let's all go back to my place, and we'll get you cleaned up, and have some fun."
Tanya's smile widened. She realized for the first time that her friend Laura was standing there beside her, as they spoke together in perfect chorus, their eyes lit up like stars.
"Yes, Johnny."
The three of them turned and walked through a ring of trees, ghosting through the bushes. It began to rain, the cold drops dripping off the bare branches of the trees overhead, plunking loudly on the roofs of the three waiting vehicles, splatting neat rings in the dirt of nearly-naked bodies. Tanya placed the shovel she had found she was carrying into the bed of the pickup, added the boots and gloves she was wearing, and retrieved her clothes. She quickly got dressed, started her car, and drove away from a ring of nothingness that expanded out behind her, swallowing physical weariness and identity and time and (...even more...) memory.
Somewhere close by drove a truck that glowed a fiery red, while its powerful headlights cut through the night.
And in front of her, towards the lights of the city, a new ring was opening up, a ring filled with Johnny's laugh, and his voice, and his sparkles.
________________________________________
Johnny had a hottub at his place, and after a nice long soak, Tanya and Laura ended up spending the night, a night filled with Objects and Holes.
And absolutely no Cracks.

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