I dropped the flashlight.
He grabbed it and exclaimed, “What’re you doing down here?” His voice knocked off the concrete walls. “Didn’t you used to be—?” He said my name. “Sure! Jesus, you hiding? You down here to stay? Welcome, I guess.” His pale shadow arm waved my flashlight. “Some place, eh? Been here horses’ years. Came down to see. Never went back. Lotsa friends. Want to meet ’em?”
I shook my head.
He snorted. “Hell! Why would you want to meet these lost underground jerks?”
“How do you know my name?” I said. “Did we go to school together?”
“You don’t remember? Hell and damn!”
“Harold?” I said. “Ross?”
There was just the drip of a lone faucet somewhere.
I added more names. Tears leaped to my eyes. Ralph, Sammy, Arnold, school chums. Gary, Philip, off to war, for God’s sake.
“Who are you? When did I know you?”
“Nobody ever knows anyone,” he said, backing off.
“Were you my best pal?”
“I always knew you’d get on. Always knew I’d get lost,” he said, a mile away.
“The war.”
“I died before the war. Died after it. I was never born, so how come?” Fading.
“Eddie! Ed. Edward. Eduardo, it’s got to be!” My heart beat swiftly, my voice rose.
“When did you last call? Did you get around to my funeral? Did you even know?”
“I never knew,” I said, inching closer.
“Come again. Don’t knock. I’ll always be here. Wait! You searching for someone?” he cried. “What’s she look like? You hear that? What’s she look like? Am I right? Yes, no?”
“Yes!” I blurted.
“She went that way.” He waved my flash.
“When—?”
“Just now. What’s she doing here in Dante’s Inferno?”
“What did she look like?” I burst out.
“Chanel No. 5!”
“What?”
“Chanel! That’ll bring the rats running. She’ll be lucky if she makes it to the surf. ‘Stay off Muscle Beach!’ I yelled.”
“What?”
“‘Stay!’ I yelled. She’s here somewhere. Chanel No. 5!”
I seized my flash from his hands, turned it back on his ghost face.