The Dam
By Bridget Squires
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PUBLISHED BY:
The Dam
Copyright © 2011 by Bridget Squires
Photo courtesy of
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The water slapped against the concrete hard, with a power only Mother Nature could unleash, a sloshing sound echoing down the valley. The massive dam stood steadfast, keeping the water at bay and draining it into the river little by little as well as creating energy for the surrounding towns. Paul stared at the structure, in awe of mankind's control over the elements, the control humans had over God's world. There were only a few vehicles sitting in the parking lot, mostly older models, aged and dented with rust lining door panels and bumpers. The entrance to the main building was a simple glass door, the words "Hallman's Dam" printed in gold letters being the only announcement proving to Paul he was indeed in the right place. Entering the building Paul found himself standing in front of a small reception area, resembling a child's school desk and littered with a few artificial plants in a vain attempt to bring a tiny amount if life to the dull surroundings.
The woman that sat behind the desk appeared as old as the dam itself, milky white hair loose along her shoulders, coke bottle glasses and skin that reminded Paul of the Shar Pei dog breed. "Can I help you?" She managed through cracked lips. The silver name plaque listed her as a Mrs. Thomas and Paul, trying to make a good impression used the name to sound professional. "Hello Mrs. Thomas, my name is Paul Isles, I'm here for an interview with Mr. Holland for the night operator position that was listed in the paper" Paul knew his voice sounded shaky but it wasn't out of fear that he stumbled on his words, it was desperation. Paul knew he needed the job, with unemployment recently cut back and other companies requiring degrees and training he simply did not possess nor could afford, this had been the only promise of employment. Mrs. Thomas nodded and picked up the phone, telling whoever had been on the other line that "the man for the interview" had arrived. After setting the phone into its cradle, the old woman waved toward the row of mismatched chairs that lined the small waiting area. Paul shuffled and sat in the first chair, anxiety smothering whatever confidence he had when he walked in.
After a few minutes a tall balding gentleman appeared from the doorway behind Mrs. Thomas, his lanky form intimidating Paul immediately. "Hello Mr. Isles, my name is Mr. Holland. If you would please follow me I will show you around and we can talk about the night operator position" as he spoke Mr. Holland handed a hard hat to Paul, its surface marred with chips and the yellow color faded with years of use. Paul arose and reached for Mr. Holland's hand, shaking it vigorously before tying the hat into place. As Paul followed the man down into the dam control area, Paul decided to give a detailed background to steer Mr. Holland toward hiring him. "Thank you for this opportunity Mr. Holland. My family grew up in town and my father was a pillar of the community. My whole family line can be traced back to when the town was settled. Since I was young I have been working with machinery and...." Before Paul could continue a small sound distracted him. It was a soft noise, barely audible over the machinery and voices yet it was there none the less. The noise had come from the turbine closest to Paul, even over the thunderous roar of water being converted into electricity the sound resonated through the air. A child sobbing, begging for her mother, that was what the noise sounded like Paul thought. "Everything ok Mr. Isles?" Paul had been so wrapped up in the noise that Mr. Holland's words had fallen on deaf ears.
Paul realized his folly, how the stray from the matter at hand would make him look at such an important juncture in the interview. "Yes, I just was admiring the turbines. Will they be what I will be running and monitoring?" Paul smiled at his quick thinking, a good cover for the distraction. Mr. Holland nodded and the two continued, the tour leading Paul throughout the building as a whole. In all, the place seemed simple enough, the machines ran themselves and there wasn't much actually that Paul would be responsible for. Finally the tour led the two toward the rear of the building, a single pane window that looked down upon the outlet where the water struggling for freedom seeped out into the river. Paul found himself drawn to the window, so close his breath created a fog of moisture against the glassy surface. The world disappeared in that moment, the waters steady current drawing Paul into a trace. Without warning a wet, soppy hand print appeared on the outside of the glass sending Paul stumbling backwards, a solid lump of fear caught within his throat. A multitude of handprints spread along the glass, as if slapping the fragile window to escape yet there was no sound and this part of the building was far too high for anyone to reach. Frightened, Paul turned to look for Mr. Holland, yet he had continued on leaving Paul the only witness to the wet display he was observing.
Slowly, Paul moved forward, caution was second to curiosity as Paul set his hand to the pane, watching as the hand that mimicked his appeared but it was much smaller. The smaller hand wiped the window over and over following Paul's hand wherever it went. Then, a voice behind Paul sent the hand fleeing and making Paul jump once again. "Paul, Mr. Isles can you hear me?" Snapping back to reality Paul turned around and faced Mr. Holland who was staring at Paul oddly. Mr. Holland had look of understanding across his face, a look that seemed to be relief as well. Unsure, Paul did found himself at a loss for words. "Paul, I need to tell you the history behind the dam. Although I think you have already met our guest" the story was outrageous, one that should have made front page news and been common knowledge to everyone in town yet it was never released. Mr. Holland explained how a malfunction in the dam in its infancy had taken the lives of three young girls who had been playing on the shoreline. The dam had backed up, causing an overflow that swelled up the normal shoreline too quickly for anyone to react.
The youngest girl, Mary Lou, had been taken out first, dragged by the current out into the depths which no one dared go. Her small, frail body slammed against the concrete with such force, the thuds could be heard by her sisters who were trying to save Mary Lou. The poor child cried aloud for her mother, begging in gasps when she surfaced from the deep, cries filling the air. The sisters each succumbed to a similar fate, all three drowning and becoming trapped in the dam until the mistake was corrected and townsfolk boated out to retrieve the water logged, bloated bodies. Mary Lou had been almost ripped to shreds, the impact being extreme enough for her blood, pinkened by the water to stain the wall facing town. Mary Lou's hands had been torn from her wrists and had never been recovered. Knowing the mistake would end the dam and lose millions for the town and surrounding communities, the incident was swept under the carpet, never to be spoken of again. The mother to the girls had been so distraught she had slit her own throat where the river had first captured her daughters. The jagged slash had turned the water red for hours, the pink discharge from the outlet too disturbing to the employee's to watch.
A year later, on the anniversary, another life was claimed. A boy had suffered the fate of drowning after building a sandcastle near the water’s edge. Soon the town’s people began to notice every year on the day the girls died, another life was taken. Sad as it was, the secret remained and was still enacted even to this day. Paul found himself stunned; he had never heard the tales so the secret was in fact being kept in a way that worked. "Why are you telling me this then?" Paul asked, voice quivering slightly. Mr. Holland signed, waving for Paul to follow which he did. The door to the elevator chimed sweetly as it opened, allowing the two into it core as it rose and brought them toward the top floor. It was labeled, Paul noticed, the words Top side written in ink that was smudged in some places. When the doors opened, the room Paul found himself in was the main control bay, a door leading out onto the dams thin walkway that led across to the other side. Water could be heard, the sou
nd reminding Paul of the ocean, waves crashing against the concrete loudly making Paul flinch. Mr. Holland opened the door and waved out onto the walkway across the dam, which Paul refused.
"I don't want to go out there" Paul whispered, fear creeping into his soul. Mr. Holland waved again, this time adding "you want the job right? I need you to see something first and then your hired". The temptation worked, Paul found himself rushing to follow Mr. Holland onto the dam itself, feeling like a tight rope walker in a way. Near the center, Mr. Holland stopped and pointed the water swelling and misting him with little beads. Paul looked down, examining the concrete. Sure enough, along the edge a dark red stain resided and images flashed into Paul's mind. He saw Mary Lou, struggling to breathe as water filled her lungs, suffocating her slowly, drowning her life and words out. The second girls head cracked off the dam, splitting open like a watermelon, the seeds of her brain matter floating to the surface, bobbing in the current. Then there was the third girl, stronger than the other two she swam against the water, fighting its push, screaming for help, spitting out mouthful after mouthful that sloshed down her throat. When her arms tired and the realization that no help would be coming she had given up, allowed herself to go under, the water wrapping her in its embrace. She floated there, bubbles rushing to the surface as she sucked the water in gulp after gulp, her eyes wide open staring into the dark, endless bottomless river. She suffocated but she seemed peaceful, falling asleep as her body shut down. Paul found himself shaking, looking for stability.
Fear and adrenaline surged through his body, desperation for employment overshadowed by the urge to leave this place. "I want to go, I don't want the job" Paul whimpered, the visions flooding his mind, death after horrible death replaying in his mind, the bloated corpses, beaten and bruised, eyes hanging from sockets and algae coating the skin. Yet when Paul turned the door slammed shut. "We fixed the problem Paul. We found a way to please the spirits trapped in the dam. We have all worked here just as our fathers had and their father’s father had. The job gets passed down generation to generation. It’s the only way to guarantee the secret remains buried, or in this case drowned. My son will be taking over for me when I retire and Mrs. Thompson's daughter will do the same for her. You Paul, you are special. You are this season’s sacrifice" and with those harsh words, Mr. Holland shoved Paul forcefully into the water, a splash from Paul’s body slamming into the water soaking his suit. Paul gasped, cursing himself for never learning how to swim.
Paul struggled to gain a handle on the dam wall but the current smashed him face first into the concrete, breaking teeth and making the cartilage of his nose shatter and blood burst from the orifice in a massive flood. Coughing Paul screamed, the sound overwhelmed by the noise of turbines and a mouthful of water. Mr. Holland was watching, observing like one would watch a baseball game, eyes fixated on Paul's plight with morbid curiosity. When he spoke, Paul started to cry. "I'm sorry Paul. It had to be someone, and you’re the only one who applied for the position. Rest in peace with the souls this dam has trapped" and with that Mr. Holland retreated to the door and disappeared. Paul's muscles began to ache, sharp stabbing pains piercing Paul's mind with every attempt to escape. Fatigue set in quickly and Paul stopped trying, allowing himself to sink under the surface for good. The ghosts greeted him, arms outstretched, faces smiling. "Come play with us" Paul could hear them say, beckoning him into eternity.