The Window and The Coming Dawn

By Heather Morrison

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 Una shot straight up in bed, only to lie back down when she
realized that the noise came from down below. The moonlight shined
between ruffled curtains, a strip of light running along the hardwood floor
onto the pastel blankets of the bed above. She lay on her side bundled up
in her comforter facing the dresser on the wall adjacent to the white
bedroom door. Mother and Father have been at it again. She wondered
how long this would go on, not that the noise disturbed anyone else the
nearest neighbor being a half mile away. She rolled to her side and put her
pillow over her head, desperate to muffle out the noise. Eyes closed, she
tried to start counting sheep, but her mind wandered, cycling from the
things that they'd made her do, to the contents of the basement to which
they'd forbidden her to go.
She couldn't help but remember the first time they'd loaded her into
the car in the middle of the night. “Treasure hunting,” her father called it
or – as her mother said - “the family trade.” They neglected to tell her
exactly what that entailed. She remembered the sound the shovels made as
they rattled in the back of the dented old station wagon whenever they
encountered a bumpy stretch of the road. She remembered the headlights
of the beat up old station wagon skimming across the dirt road, a sharp
turn and her father killing the engine. She resisted this memory returning
to the sheep. One . Baa. Thump. Two. Baa. Thump. Three. Baaa...
The voice of her father haunted her from that night so long ago.
It's okay, pumpkin, we've got to eat somehow. Besides, he's not using them
anymore. She remembered the dirt and sweat swept across the contour of
Father's brow, skin tinged yellow under the glow of the square dome light.
She remembered the smile on Mother's red rimmed lips as she admired her

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new prize; a gold ring snatched from a cold stiff hand that resided beneath
the earth.
Una gave up, the futility of her attempts at sleep made evident by
nagging phantoms of the past and the racket downstairs. She crawled out
of bed yanking her imitation satin robe off the top of her dresser and
pulling it over her matching flimsy night gown. She fumbled around for a
minute groping for her pack of cigarettes. She shoved them into her robe
pocket as she stepped forward thrusting calloused feet into foam thong
sandals.
The humidity hung in the summer air, as if a wet blanket draped
around her face and limbs. Crickets chirped audibly, despite the ruckus
coming up through the basement window. She tucked her pale colored
locks carefully behind her ears before she lit her cigarette inhaling deeply.
She exhaled, stepping forward. The wooden boards of the porch creaked
underfoot.
"Hello? Hello!" a voice shouted frantically, "I can hear you up
there!"
Una paused for a minute her gaze fixed on the stars above.
Thinking, should she? Instinctively she groped at the scars that laced their
way up from her buttocks to the base of her shoulder blades. If nothing
else, she'd learned in her brief 16 years of existence that meddling with her
parents affairs only made things worse. Father made sure of that. Yet at
the same time curiosity gnawed at her. Maybe, if she was careful this
would be of of no consequence after all. She stepped slowly down the trio
of wooden steps, onto the stone steps that lined the back of the house.
Between a pair of manicured bushes, the basement window sat half
submerged. A thin tin wall held the soil at bay. She squatted still smoking

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her cigarette and peered inside. His eyes shot back at her---reddened,
desperate.
"Help me, I don't know how I got down here," he said.
"It's okay. Just calm down." Una said. She smiled, dark eyes
twinkling.
"You gotta get me out of here." he said, the eyes growing wider.
"Hey...so what's your name?" Una asked.
"You gotta get me out of here," he repeated.
"Well, that's hardly a name," she said, smirking.
"Fine. Mac. Why?" he said.
"Mac. Hmm...That sounds familiar," she said.
"Wait, do I know you?" he said.
"No," she said, her voice hollow.
She looked away for a moment, back across the lawn to the
flowers and shrubs that lined the edge of the property. She could make out
the shape of the wooden fence at its perimeter. It seemed as if it were
about to be swallowed by the darkness of the forest beyond. A light
flashed on coming down from a window above illuminating the grass
behind her. Una froze for a second then pressed her finger to her lips
signaling Mac to be quiet.
"Well its been nice chatting with you Mac, but I've got to go," Una
said her voice hushed.
"Wait," Mac said.
"Father's coming. Don't let him catch you talking to me. If he finds
out, it's over for you. Understand? Quiet down, and he won't come down
there," she whispered.
Una stood and casually walked back up onto the porch, She took a

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final drag off of her cigarette before putting it out in the empty coffee can
used as an ash tray that sat next to the back door. The screen door
slammed behind her.
"Wait. It's me, Mac. Wait," he pleaded.
The next day came and went. The ticking of the clock on Una's bed
stand resonated throughout her bedroom. She waited up reading,
occasionally turning a page here and there of her soft-bound dimestore
novel. She could hear the murmuring of Mother and Father talking in the
living room. They'd come up from below some time ago. It was only a
matter of time before the stirring and pacing stopped and they went to bed.
She closed her eyes for awhile dreaming of the night before, of those eyes.
Her heart fluttered in anticipation. Una glanced towards her clock. 2am,
and upon further investigation silence. She let a few minutes pass and then
poked her head outside her bedroom door. Darkness. Silence. Surely they
won't stir now.
Una tip-toed through the kitchen and laundry room to the back
door. Careful to avoid much noise, she gently closed the door behind her.
The night very much resembled the night before in that the humidity
stifled her. The same stars shined down from above. The same forest
glared menacingly from behind the same wooden fence. The same crickets
chirped. Yet something seemed absent. What was it?
"Hello?" a hoarse whisper came up from below. Una tip-toed down
the stairs over to the half submerged window, those same reddened eyes
from the night before staring up at her.
"Its you again. What's your name?" he said.
"Una," she said
"Una, huh, quite unusual," Mac said.

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 "If you say so" she said.
"Una, those people, are they your parents?" he asked.
"Yes," she said flatly.
"Why am I here? What's going to happen to me?"he pleaded
"Mac, who are you?" Una asked looking towards him sharply.
"I don't know, what do you mean?" he said.
"What do you mean you don't know? How did you get here?" Una
said.
"Well, I work at the gas station, Cassady's, have you heard of it? I
was at work last night, at least I think it was last night. I was headed
towards my car in the parking lot when someone came up from behind.
They beat me up, Una, do you understand? They hurt me, and I woke up
here."
The sprinkler system snapped on. Startled, Una jumped to her feet,
shaking. Her heart raced. She couldn't get caught. Torn, she looked back
down towards him, then back towards the porch. She paused for a
moment battling her instincts, but in the end fear won out. She marched
stiffly back up towards the back door, thong sandals slapping against the
heels of her feet.
"Una, wait!" he said.
Una woke up the next morning, to a quiet house, feeling neither
tired nor anxious. She went about her usual routine for awhile before she
noticed it. Perfect silence. Both silence in the inwards sense, as well as
silence in the house. She poked around the house to see her parents gone.
She checked out front to see the old station wagon gone as well. Mother
and Father must have gone to town. She went into the kitchen pantry and
retrieved a loaf of bread. She found an old bicycle water bottle, pink from

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when she was a little girl, under the sink. She rinsed the bottle out quickly,
then filled it with water from the sink.
Her heart racing, Una started to sweat as she made her way around
to the basement window. The sun beat down pinching her skin. The
sprinklers ticked staccato as they watered the back lawn. She could feel a
cool breeze creeping up from the water cooling her thigh.
"Mac, are you there?" she said peering in.
Her breath faltered as he turned around the light of day
illuminating his face for the first time. Red rimmed eyes stared out from
above sunken in cheeks. The shadow of a beard covered slightly awkward
yet still delicate features. His head look to have been shaved recently,
quite forcefully, the wisps of the occasional lock still present and the
scabbed over remains of a jagged cut near his right temple. She hadn't
expected him to be, well, so young. He couldn't be much older than her.
"I brought you something," she said.
Una thrust a fist full of bread between iron bars, his eyes lit up.
Their hands touched for a brief second as he accepted. She smiled, dazed,
then squeezed the small pink bottle of water between the bars.
"Hide the bottle when you're done, or they'll know."
"Una, please, they're doing things to me. They're going to kill me,
aren't they?"
Una released a heavy sigh her thoughts turning towards the locked
door in the kitchen and the path leading to the cell below. Her parents
workshop. Una couldn't recall when they'd installed the hardware down
below. It seemed as if it had always been there, maybe it had. She only
really caught glimpses of it late at night when they'd returned needing help
unloading the car. She'd glimpsed it a thousand times but her mind didn't

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want to acknowledge that which her eyes had seen, that which lay in neat
little piles. Bone carved into various utensils and in one case carved into a
bowl. Flesh tanned and hung to later become part of various projects,
canvasses, lamp shades, like the one upstairs. Some of the less useful parts
sat in neat little piles ready to find their way back underground, which
they did on occasion. This was the life she'd been a part of. This was as
natural too her as the food she ate and the air she breathed. This was what
she'd been and was expected to be, and it never bothered her, save when
she couldn't sleep at night. It never bothered her until now. Until it became
Mac, a name and a face and a voice in the darkness.
"What is it, Una? Come on. Help me," he said.
"I'm sorry Mac," she said.
Una turned her back on him. She walked slowly at first back
towards the porch only to break into a run as she felt her composure
slipping. The empty house greeted her with silence and the ticking of the
kitchen clock as she stopped for a minute breathing in deeply, trying to
regain control. She made it into her bedroom closing the door abruptly
only to slide down the back of it folding up fetal her back against the door.
She choked back the tears that welled up, threatening to betray her. Why
was this happening? Why did she care? It wasn't fair. She wanted to
ignore it, turn a blind eye in the same way in which she had for a majority
of her life. But she couldn't, not this time. She couldn't think of those eyes
staring up at her, pleading and do nothing. So she waited.
Some hours later Una sat alone in her room her ears opening
listening for the right moment. She watched the hand on the alarm clock in
her bedroom shift moving the hour to three o'clock, three am that is. Fully
clothed down to her jacket and shoes her blond locks pulled up into a pony

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tail she rose from the edge of her bed. As she tip-toed towards the
basement door she could tell that her parents slept peacefully in their bed
upstairs, her fathers snores audible from the kitchen in which she paused
for a moment. He kept his keys in a small wicker basket, next to the
microwave. Careful to muffle the sound, she retrieved them then tip-toed
towards the door leading to the basement one hand clenching most of the
keys so as to prevent an untimely jangle. Her arms shook as she she
unlocked that door. She held her breath as she slowly pulled it open, then
paused for a minute listening. Once reassured by the snores upstairs she
continued closing the door gently behind her.
She hesitated for a moment virtually alone in the darkness, she
took a deep breath preparing herself then flipped the light switch. The
smell of decay and human filth ran rampant in here. It took most of Una's
will power to maintain a steady calming breath and an even pace. The
florescent lights flickered for a moment and then began to happily hum as
she slowly descended. The stairs creaked occasionally as she approached
the front of the workshop. It seemed to be the same place she
remembered. Dusty shelves, the stained work table, tools. Una maintained
her even pace keeping her gaze straight ahead ignoring some of the new
pieces her parents had acquired many of which floated in large sized jars
intended for canning.
On the far side of the room a cell was sectioned off. Within the cell
against the wall beneath the window, Mac huddled up in a corner. He
shrank away, tighter into that corner as she approached.
"Mac its me...Una,"she said.
His eyes widened and he rushed over towards the door of the cell.
He opened his mouth to speak, but she hushed him.

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 "We're getting out of here," she sad.
She tried a couple different keys shakily before she found the one
to the cell. Once unlocked the door to the cell required a bit of a jolt before
wedged out of place it swung open largely on its own. Mac hesitated for a
moment before Una grabbed him by the arm and pulled him forward
across the threshold of the cell. He limped slightly as they rushed through
the basement unable to keep his eyes focused on the path ahead.
"Come on Mac, you can make it," Una said pulling him forward,
"Just ignore it, we don't have time. Here, lean on me."
Una's heart nearly leapt out of her throat when they reached the top
of the stairs, and Mac stopped for a moment to rest. He bent forward his
hands on his knees taking deep breaths gagging slightly. Una pulled on his
arm urging him forward much more frantically this time; the snoring had
stopped, someone stirred upstairs.
"Don't make a sound, " Una mouthed at him.
She tip toed to the far side of the kitchen, far enough to peer
around into the living room, seeing that the lights were off she decided to
make a run for it. She turned and motioned to Mac. They bolted for the
front door. Suddenly a light flipped on and shined down from upstairs.
The floor boards creaked as someone approached the staircase. Una
fumbled with the bolt on the front door managing to get it open just as
footsteps began to descend. They didn't bother with the front door once
they made it outside, choosing instead to run hand and hand towards the
scratched up dented station wagon parked in the gravel out front. Una
fumbled with the keys, shaking she opened the the heavy metal drivers
side door. Mac hopped in crawling over the driver's seat to the
passenger's side. Una followed slamming the door behind her, she quickly

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put the key in the ignition and started the car.
The pair began to pull out of the driveway onto the gravel road just
as Una's father appeared on the front porch. His white hairy belly poked
out from beneath a white t-shit, the bulk of it hanging over paint stained
sweat pants. He looked Una right in the eye, frozen for a moment, before
taking a single step forward in pursuit just as she turned the car and sped
away.

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