Dolores Claiborne

    “It's just your imagination workin overtime, Dolores,” I told myself. “That little girl lookin under the bed for her clothes and Joe screamin like that you imagined em both. One was a hallucination that somehow come of catchin a whiff of stale air from the well, and the other was no more'n your own guilty conscience. Joe's layin at the bottom of that well with his head bashed in. He's dead, and he ain't gonna bother either you or the kids ever again.”

    I didn't believe it at first, but more time went by and there was no more sound, except for an owl callin somewhere off in a field. I remember thinkin it sounded like he was askin how come his shift was gettin started so early today. A little breeze ran through the blackberry bushes, makin em rattle. I looked up at the stars shinin in the daytime sky, then down at the well-cap again. It almost seemed to float in the dark, and the hole in the middle he'd fallen through looked like an eye to me. July 20th, 1963, was my day for seeing eyes everywhere.

    Then his voice come driftin outta the well again. “Help me Duh-lorrrrr-isss.

    I groaned n put my hands over my face. It wa'ant any good tryin to tell myself that was just my imagination or my guilty conscience or anything else except what it was: Joe. To me he sounded like he was cryin.

    “Help meeeee pleeease… PLEEEEEEEA SE… “ he moaned.

    I stumbled my way around the well-cap and went runnin back along the path we'd beat in the brambles. I wasn't in a panic, not quite, and I'll tell you how I know that: I stopped long enough to pick up the reflector-box I'd had in my hand when we started out toward the blackberry patch. I couldn't remember droppin it as I ran, but when I saw it hangin off one of those branches, I grabbed it. Prob'ly a damned good thing, too, considerin how things went with that damned Dr McAuliffe… but that's still a turn or two away from where I am now. I did stop to pick it up, that's the point, and to me that says I was still in possession of my wits. I could feel the panic trying to reach underneath em, though, the way a cat'll try to get its paw under the lid of a box, if it's hungry and it can smell food inside.

    I thought about Selena, and that helped keep the panic away. I could imagine her standin on the beach of Lake Winthrop along with Tanya and forty or fifty little campers, each camper with his or her own reflector-box that they'd made in the Handicrafts Cabin, and the girls showin em exactly how to see the eclipse in em. It wasn't as clear as the vision I'd had out by the well, the one of the little girl lookin under the bed for her shorts n shirt, but it was clear enough for me to hear Selena talkin to the little ones in that slow, kind voice of hers, soothin the ones who were afraid. I thought about that, and about how I had to be here for her and her brothers when they got back… only if I gave in to the panic, I probably wouldn't be. I'd gone too far and done too much, and there wasn't nobody left I could count on except myself.

    I went into the shed and found Joe's big six-cell flashlight on his worktable. I turned it on, but nothin happened; he'd let the batt'ries go flat, which was just like him. I keep the bottom drawer of his table stocked with fresh ones, though, because we lose the power so often in the winter. I got half a dozen and tried to fill the flashlight up again. My hands were tremblin so bad the first time that I dropped D-cells all over the floor and had to scramble for em. The second time I got em in, but I musta put one or two in bass-ackwards in my hurry, because the light wouldn't come on. I thought about just leavin it; the sun'd be coming out again pretty soon, after all. Except it'd be dark at the bottom of the well even after it did come out, and besides, there was a voice in the very back of my mind ternn me to keep on fiddlin and diddlin just as long's I wanted-that maybe if I took long enough, I'd find he'd finally given up the ghost when I did get back out there.

    At last I got the flash to work. It made a fine bright light, and at least I was able to find my way back to the wellcap without scratchin my legs any worse” n they already were. I don't have the slightest idear how much time'd gone by, but it was still gloomy and there was still stars showin in the sky, so I guess it wasn't yet six and the sun still mostly covered.

    I knew he wasn't dead before I was halfway back-I could hear his groanin and calin my name, beggin me to help him get out. I don't know if the Jolanders or the Langills or the Carons would've heard him if they'd been home or not. I decided it was best not to wonder; I had plenty of problems without takin that on. I had to figure out what to do with him, that was the biggest thing, but I couldn't seem to get far. Every time I tried to think of an answer, this voice inside started howling at me. “It ain't fair,” that voice yelled, “this wa'ant in the deal, he's supposed to be dead, god-dammit, dead!”