Maze

“Oh, we have to stop!” exclaimed Suzanne, pummeling Greg’s shoulder with both fists.

She was looking at the hand-painted sign beside the two-lane road that read “Matthew’s ‘Mazing Maze of Maize” in large red letters. Below that, “Largest Corn Maze in the South! Games! Prizes!” Off to the side was a rudimentarily-rendered row of corn plants with question marks floating over it.

Greg stole a glance from the road ahead at the sign. “Wonder what kind of prizes you get for going through a corn maze.”

“Probably a jar of ‘shine,” intoned Gloria from the back seat.

“Oh, who cares what it is! ‘Largest corn maze in the south!’ Imagine what that must look like!”

“You can’t seriously believe that,” Gloria said, settling back and fiddling with her camera.

“But it’s got to be impressive, or whoever it was wouldn’t have said so on the sign!”

“I’m sure truth in advertising is a core principle out here.”

They had been travelling through the Southeast for three weeks now, shooting pictures and interviewing people for a magazine article on what Suzanne called “The Fading South.” That meant a parade of tumbling-down tobacco barns, roadside stands and small-town festivals. Gloria was the photographer, Suzanne dealt with the people and Greg had the inglorious task of doing all the driving.

They were approaching the assignment with varying amounts of zeal. Suzanne was gung-ho all the way. She loved talking with the Grand Marshall of the Scottsville Raspberry Festival, the only cop who worked the two streets of Murray and the proprietor of the last drive-in theater in Georgia.

Gloria was as disaffected as she was good with her camera. She loathed everything about the territory through which they had travelled – the heat, the bugs, the miles of nothing to look at. She approached it as a personal challenge, though, to produce great work from such uninspiring material.

Greg walked the middle ground between interest and disdain. His tastes ran more towards the schlocky. He had already amassed an extensive collection of memorabilia from the World’s Second Largest Pickle Barrel, Jarett’s Two-Headed Alligator Roadside Zoo and the haunted miniature golf course of Wellsford.

“Look, there’s another sign,” announced Suzanne. “’Find your way through in less than one hour, get your money back!’” Below that, there was a sign shaped like an arrow, pointing them off the main road. “It’s got to be impressive, if it takes an hour to go through!”

“An hour wandering around in the weeds,” Gloria scoffed. “Pass.”

“Corn,” Greg corrected, “not weeds. And she might have a point. It could be pretty cool.”

“That’s it,” Suzanne whooped, “two to one! We’re going!”

“I’ll try to contain myself,” said Gloria.

“I wonder if they have T-shirts?” said Greg.

***

The road to Matt’s ‘Mazing Maze of Maize grew steadily more narrow and into a greater state of disrepair. Pavement gave way to dirt, which became pitted with potholes. When Greg began to think they were navigating the surface of the moon, they saw it off in the distance.

He frowned.

“I don’t know a lot about corn, but I know what it looks like, and that doesn’t look like corn to me.”

Suzanne had to admit that he was right. The goat track that they were currently on was flanked on both sides by corn fields, the stalks higher than a person, it being the peak of the season. The structure they were slowly approaching was a lighter green and appeared to be covered in something like ivy, only that wasn’t right, either.

Even Gloria was intrigued enough to crane forward for a better look. “I think I said something about truth in advertising a little while ago,” she murmured.

“Well, if nothing else, it’s not dinky,” said Greg.

There was a small, unpaved parking lot that could accommodate maybe a half a dozen cars at the end of their path. It was currently unoccupied. What was occupied, though, was the rocking chair parked beneath a large umbrella at the edge of the lot. An old man in overalls and a shirt which had probably originally been red was sitting there, placidly rocking away and watching them approach.

The wall behind him stretched off for dozens of yards in both directions. It was clearly man-made in its flat regularity, only it was completely covered with a layer of large, heart-shaped green leaves. They stirred slightly in the gentle summer breeze but gave no hint as to what they covered.

“This…is…great,” Suzanne proclaimed, opening her door before Greg had even finished bringing their car to a halt.

She quickly strode up to the old man, who watched her come with the same ease with which he had observed the incoming vehicle. “You must be Matthew!” she said.

“Wayne,” corrected the man. “Pleased to meet you.”

“Er,” said Suzanne, off-balance.

“Where’s Matthew?” said Gloria, who had trailed up in her wake. “He have the day off or something.”

“Ain’t no Matthew,” said Wayne. “Only made that up for the sign. ‘Wayne’s ‘Mazing Maze of Maize’ don’t roll off the tongue as well, I found.”

Greg laughed. “I guess not. And what kind of ivy is that?”

“Ain’t ivy,” the old man answered, producing a crumpled pack of Dorals from the bib pocket of his overalls. “It’s kudzu.”

“Kudzu?” said Gloria. “That weed that grows beside the road down here?”

Wayne nodded. “The very same.” He cleared his throat. “Kudzu was brought over to the United States from Japan in the year of 1876 and was promoted as a shade plant, food for cattle and groundcover to prevent soil erosion. It grows fast, climbs quick, and is very hard to kill off completely. Problem was, in the ‘40’s, kudzu crops were left unattended, and they started growin’ out of control. Today, it’s estimated to cover almost seven and a half million acres of land in the ‘merican Southeast.” He paused his monologue to light his cigarette. “And four acres of land right here on my own farm.”

“So why does your sign make it out like a corn maze?” Gloria asked.

The old man shrugged. “’Wayne’s ‘Mazing Maze of Kudzu’ sounds even less harmonious, I guess.”

“I don’t know,” said Greg. “I think it sounds more interesting.”

“You’d probably be in the minor’ty,” said Wayne, puffing away. “Folks like corn mazes. Corn mazes are familiar. My setup tends to make some folks uneasy.”

“Uneasy how?” asked Suzanne.

“You’ll see when you go through,” said the old man, adding, “if you decide to go through, that is.”

“Oh, he’s good,” marveled Gloria. “That’s quite a patter you’ve got going there, Wayne.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

“Say,” said Greg, “how did you make the maze? Kudzu’s a vine, right? So what’s it growing on?”

The old man rose with a grunt and moved slowly over the wall behind them. “Come n’ see,” he offered, parting the thick carpeting of leaves with his hand. Beneath was a wooden latticework.

“T’aint too sturdy, but it’ll hold up the plants,” the old man asserted. “Friend of mine knows a surveyor, helped me plan out the maze. Spent a whole winter season building the thing. Once the kudzu got ‘stablished, it weren’t but a year before the whole thing was covered and ready to go. Been fairly popular with passers-by ever since.”

“Yeah, your sign said there were prizes,” Gloria piped up. She had been taking shots of the long wall of lush green. “What kind of prizes?”

“Oh, I keep ‘em in the middle of the maze. Gives folks a little extra incentive to keep goin’.”

“And if you make it all the way through…” said Suzanne.

“You’d come out directly opposite on t’other side,” he finished.

“And we’d get our money back,” Gloria said.

“You make it through in less’n an hour, that is,” Wayne clarified.

“What happens if you get so lost you can’t find your way through?” Greg asked. “Do you come in and get us, or what?”

“Never had a problem with folks couldn’t find their way out,” the old man said. He stuck his hands in the pockets of his overalls and eyed them. “So, you three feel like trying your luck?”

“You bet!” Suzanne said.

“Five dollars apiece, if you please, then,” Wayne replied. He took the five spot from each of them, pocketed them, and then said, “Now, the thing about mazes, you can get turned around in a hurry –”

“I think we can navigate a few aisles of kudzu without too much trouble,” said Gloria.

“A hundred and seventy-three thousand, fifty-six square feet, miss,” he said. “All’s I’m sayin’ is that you might wanna –”

“Do you have T-shirts for sale?” asked Greg. “Or is that one of the prizes in the center?”

“No, I don’t, and no, it isn’t,” the old man answered, a little exasperated. “Look, if you find yourself lost –”

“We’ll be okay!” called Suzanne from the entrance to the maze. “Come on, guys! The clock’s ticking and I want to win back my five bucks!”

Greg shrugged and jogged over to join her. Gloria sighed and slouched along in his wake.

Wayne pitched his spent cigarette away and reseated himself in his rocker as the trio entered the green.

***

It was surprisingly, pleasingly cool inside the walls of the maze, a welcome respite from the hammer of the mid-July southern heat. Suzanne took an appreciative deep breath and let her hand pass over the lush green leaves of the kudzu-covered corridor they walked along.

There was a gap up ahead to their right, or they could choose to keep going. “What do you think?” she said. “Turn or go straight?”

“Turn,” said Gloria immediately.

“I’m proud of you,” Suzanne said. “Look at you, getting into the spirit of things!”

“Around,” finished Gloria. “And leave.”

Suzanne made a disappointed sound and led them through the gap and into another hall.

Greg studied the walls as they went along. It was no wonder it took the old boy so long to get the thing built, he reflected. The walls extended far beyond his eyeline. He estimated them to be nine feet tall, at least. The shade thrown by them accounted for the cool interior they enjoyed. After the stiflingly humid afternoon outside, it was almost chilly in here.

“Another opening,” Suzanne announced. “Which way do we go?”

“Turn,” Gloria said quickly. Suzanne gave her a somewhat sour look. They took the turn and continued.

Ten minutes later, Suzanne was marveling over Wayne’s ingenuity. The walls, overgrown with kudzu as they were, consistently ran in straight paths ending in right angles. The corridors were a more or less uniform width, allowing Greg and her to walk ahead side by side while Gloria sulkily brought up the rear.

She had begun to believe that she wasn’t going to be getting her five dollars back from the old man, as well. Since every stretch of the corridor was a straight path, they all looked the same. She wondered if they ought to have sketched out a map or a list of their turns, then decided that would have taken away from the adventure.

After a half-hour of walking, Gloria was done. “Okay, I’m ready to find the exit now,” she announced. “This officially sucks.”

“This thing is incredible,” Greg said. He studied the hard-packed earth they were standing on for footprints, evidence that they might have crossed their own path, but saw no such signs. “I really think we might be in here for a while.”

An hour came and went, and along with their chances to reclaim their cost of admission went the last few shards of Gloria’s patience.

“This is stupid!” she said. Then, calling out, “Hello! We’d like out of here now, please! A little help here!”

There was no answer, only the soft hiss of the breeze through the millions of kudzu leaves.

“Hello!” Gloria shouted again. “You win! Maze, one, us, zero! How do we get out of here?”

Even Suzanne was finding her enthusiasm beginning to stale a little around the edges. “Come on, Gloria, give it a rest. Sure, we’re lost, but if we just keep going, we’re bound to find the way out.”

“I keep expecting to round the next corner and find the skeleton of some poor bastard who thought the same thing!” Gloria retorted.

“Hey,” said Greg, “relax. Absolute worst-case scenario, we just go through the walls in a straight line until we hit the outside. You saw how rickety the walls around the entrance were.”

“Oh, yeah, old Wayne would be really pleased if we wrecked his pride and joy,” Gloria answered.

“I’m just saying, we have a failsafe option,” Greg insisted.

“Look, we won’t get anywhere just standing around and hollering at the air,” said Suzanne. “Or each other. So why don’t we just keep going and see what we can find?”

“I’m still on the lookout for skeletons,” said Gloria.

Nearly two hours later, all of their spirits had diminished exponentially. Suzanne was feeling apprehensive, Greg was concerned and Gloria, although she would never, ever admit it, was scared.

“Hey!” she shouted. “We want out of here!” Then, as much as she hated to say it, “Help!”

Suzanne looked around, not that it did much good. This corridor looked the same as all the other ones they had been through. Well, there was one difference, and it was a disquieting one. It was darker. She looked up and saw the pale blue of the sky was beginning to dull to a dusty cadet shade. She checked her watch. Five o’clock. It was going to be getting dark in a few hours. She decided that since she already suspected the answer, it would do more harm than good to ask her companions if either of them had a flashlight on them.

“Okay,” she said. “How about this? Greg, you boost one of us up so we can see where we are. That’ll tell us what direction we need to be headed in.”

Greg nodded. “Yeah, good idea.” He hunched over slightly and laced his fingers together. “Who’s going for the ride?”

“I’ll do it,” Gloria answered, planting a foot onto his lowered hands. “Anything to get us the hell out of here.”

She steadied herself on Greg’s shoulders as he lifted her up. “Grab the top of the wall,” he advised. “Help keep your balance.”

She did so, plunging both hands into the mounded vines that topped the wall, then immediately pulled them back with a yelp. She lunged backwards, and Greg had no hope of supporting her. She hit the opposite wall hard and fell heavily to the ground with a sickening thump.

“What the hell?” Suzanne exclaimed, rushing to her.

“I couldn’t hold her,” Greg insisted. “She just jerked and I couldn’t hold her.”

Gloria was crying and holding her hands out before her. There were rows of puncture marks across her palms a few inches apart. Unfortunately, they looked to Suzanne to be pretty deep, as Gloria had put most of her weight into her grip on the top of the wall.

“There’s something in the leaves,” Gloria wailed. “Something sharp!”

Suzanne yanked off her hairband and pressed it to the wounds on Gloria’s left hand. Greg’s handkerchief went onto the ones on her right. Gloria continued to cry, kicking her feet in her pain and fear.

“I don’t get it,” said Greg. “Did something bite her?”

“No,” said Suzanne. “The holes are in a straight line. It’s like…” She looked at the top of the wall, then at Greg. “Boost me up.”

“What? No way!”

“Just do it! I need to check something.”

Reluctantly, Greg repeated his half-crouch and allowed Suzanne to step onto his waiting palms. He lifted her up, fearful of the same outcome. Suzanne, however, after tentatively brushing aside the greenery, plunged her hands into the kudzu covering the wall in front of her. Greg felt her immediately steady.

“What’s going on?” Greg called up to her.

“Just a second,” she answered, transferring her attention to the top of the wall. With one hand, she parted the leaves and saw what she had expected. The sight drove away any doubts in her mind about what kind of situation they were in. “Okay, let me down.”

Greg complied, and she stepped lightly to the ground.

“There’s a row of spikes on top of the wall. Metal spikes.”

“What? That’s crazy! Who’d put metal spikes on top of a rickety, piece of crap wooden wall?”

“The wall’s not wood, either,” she said. “Look.” She moved the leaves out of the way, revealing metal bars. The section of wall they were inspecting was solid iron.

Greg looked at the bars, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. Suzanne moved to the opposite wall and investigated beneath the kudzu vines. That one was metal, as well. “They must all be bars. We just didn’t notice because they’re completely overgrown.”

“The whole thing?”

“Except maybe for that little bit the old guy showed us back at the entrance, I guess.”

“That’s crazy,” Greg said again. “Who the hell would go to all the trouble to build a giant maze out of metal bars out here in the middle of nowhere and then invite people to go in?”

“The spikes keep people from going over the walls,” Suzanne reasoned. “The bars are close enough together to keep people from going through the walls.” She looked at Greg. “You have to walk the maze.”

“I do not like this,” he declared.

“Oh, and I’m a fan?” demanded Gloria, struggling to her feet. She shouted up at the rapidly dimming sky, “When we get out of here, I’m gonna knock your ass right out of that chair, old man!”

“How long do you figure we have before dark?” Suzanne asked Greg.

He considered. “An hour. Maybe less.”

“Then we’d better get moving. We won’t find the way out just standing around in one place.”

“Yeah, let’s go!” said Gloria bitterly. “I’ve already lost my five dollars…I’m not missing out on the fabulous prizes ol’ Wayne’s got squirreled away in the middle of this nightmare!” With that, she started walking, her hands clasped to her chest, a few rivulets of blood drying tackily on her forearms.

***

The light of the day was almost gone. The first few stars had begun to emerge in the purpling sky, and, as far as the three knew, they were no nearer to the end of the maze than they had been hours before.

“I can’t believe I have to spend the night here,” Gloria said. “My hands are killing me.”

“I don’t think I want a t-shirt to commemorate this experience any more,” Greg chipped in.

“Come on, guys,” said Suzanne. “Let’s just keep going. It doesn’t look like we’ve been the same way twice, so we’ve got to be making progress.”

“How do you know?” Gloria demanded. “Every path looks the same!”

“It can’t go on forever, Gloria,” Suzanne insisted. “Sooner or later we’ve got to find a way –”

“Shh,” Greg said in a low voice. “I heard something.”

Both women fell silent, listening.

“I don’t hear anything,” Gloria said.

“What was it?” Suzanne asked.

“I don’t know,” Greg said. “It was just for a second –”

There was a new noise in the background. It was the sound of a heavily-exhaled breath.

“Crap,” declared Gloria.

The sound had come from the other side of the wall they currently faced.

“I think we should get moving,” said Suzanne.

“Oh, yeah, I agree,” Greg said, pulling on Gloria’s arm. “Come on, let’s go!”

They ducked through the next gap in the wall and moved away from the sound, which did not come again.

The gloom had deepened into the darkness of early evening, and just when they had reached the point where it would be impossible to keep going, Suzanne cried, “Hey, guys! I can see a light up ahead! We made it!”

“Huzzah,” groaned Gloria. “’Scuse me for not clapping.”

“When we get out of here,” said Greg, “I don’t care how old he is, I am personally going to make sure Wayne’s head and his ass change places.”

They picked up their pace, heading for the orange glow that tumbled through the gap in the wall ahead.

Somewhere behind them, the heavy breathing sound came again, accompanied by a heavy footfall on the hard-packed earth, then another. Suzanne looked back over the heads of her companions, straining to see into the darkness. Was something moving back there, just out of sight?

“Come on!” Greg said again, hauling her through the gap in the wall and into the light.

They were in the center of the maze, a square area perhaps twenty feet across. There was a rude wooden table, weathered but stout, in the middle of the clearing. On it rested a bell jar, and beneath the jar was what looked like a paring knife.

“I don’t get it,” Greg said, looking around. “What the hell kind of prize is this?” He flipped over the glass covering and snatched up the knife. It looked absurdly small, clenched in his fist.

“Guys, there’s no other way out of here,” Gloria said. “We’re trapped.”

“We’re not trapped,” Greg replied. “We just go back the way we came. We’ll use the knife to cut through the vines, maybe knock down the walls until we get –”

“We can’t go back the way we came,” said Suzanne dully, eyeing the opening through which they had come. They followed her gaze, and as what had been watching the from the shadows lumbered into the light, Gloria, at least, found the strength to scream. Her cries were soon accompanied by those of her companions.

***

Outside the maze, Wayne listened from his rocker to Gloria’s wails, Greg’s yells and Suzanne’s shrieks. He didn’t like this part, and it was a mercy that it was always over so quickly.

As if on cue, the screams cut off and a leaden silence fell over the area.

“Everyone’s in such a hurry these days,” he said to himself, lighting up a smoke. “All eager to get on with it, get it over with and video the whole thing while they do it.” He rose, stretched, his back crackling in a series of dry pops.

“Yep, no one ever lets me finish,” he went on. “Shoulda, though. I coulda finished warnin’ them, warnin’ them ‘bout the minotaur.” He sighed. “But they’re always eager to go on and beat the maze.”

From deep within the maze, there was a snort and the sound of huge, shuffling feet. Wayne sat back down, knowing he would have to wait before he broke out his map and made his way through to the center to recover the keys to the trio’s car. He had waited all day for this first part, he could wait a while longer for the next – when the only sound coming from the maze was the soft hiss of the summer breeze through the leaves.