The Sunken Acrimony

CW: Social injustice, Greed, Racism, drowning, Horror, Payback.

“Why are we getting evicted? Our families have been here for seven generations!”

“Nobody said anything about eviction. The city of New York is simply relocating residents from Ashton, Hurley, Olive, and ehhhmm…Where else on this list... Ah, and Shokan. The city is paying a fair amount for all of your patches.”

“What about Boiceville?”

“How about Glenford?"

“Uh… Um, would Marbletown be spared?”

“What about all of our businesses? Our loved ones who are buried?"

“Put a sock in it with the riot act! This is not a negotiation. You all have four weeks.”

“…And, if we stay?”

“Either way, this entire area will be underwater. Hope you know how to swim with Sturgeons.”

“Ah, aha… Excuse my snarky colleague. Just… Take what we are giving you. It’s a decent deal. This is for the greater good...”

-It’s 1909, and the borough of Manhattan and its surrounding areas boomed with the Industrial Revolution, and with it, the population swelled voraciously. The Board of Water Supply was formed, and it used the power of eminent domain to seize land as it saw fit to increase the city's water supply. Closer to the city limits, they initially tried to expand the Croton Reservoir, but residents of Dutchess protested. Not to be discouraged by these ‘short-sighted simpletons’, the BWS greedily placed their sights further north by the Catskills, by Esopus Creek. To prioritize the downstream epicenter of wealth, villages and towns were depopulated without due process and acquired at a bargain. Ultimately, these rural communities were sunk under pristine drinking water for the privileged. Thousands of original landowners lost the place they called home.

...This fictional story is dedicated to them…

BWS had quite the success rate at land-grabbing to appease the profit machine. They began an ambitious push to own all the existing rivers, lakes, and underground streams flowing through New York State. Their empowered ambition has brought them to North Elba, a seemingly forgotten-looking village with just a few farms near the base of Lake Placid.

Upon arrival after the long drive north, a pair of city engineers immediately began trespassing without notifying the residents. They started projecting their ‘vision of the future’ onto the patchy land populated by weeds, gourds, and dust.

“You cityfolks lost? Saranac is further west on this county road that turns to Ray Brook. Albany would be in the other direction.”

The deputy director of BWS got out of the rear passenger side and tried to ‘politely’ address the curious locals who gathered by his shiny blue Cadillac Model 30. However, the dust took a while to settle before he could actually see who he was talking to. He was so used to the pushback from residents, but as always, he was arrogantly confident that he would get his way.

“Pay no mind. State business.”

In the distance, a resident was apprehending one of the engineers who was trampling all over his Shan yao yam field.

“他为什么在我们的山药地里?”

“Get!.. Get your hands off of me! I will have you deported! Who… Who’s ‘help’ is this? What the hell is he saying?”

The multi-racial community members looked at one another with raised eyebrows.

“This is Gerrittown. Formerly part of Timbuctoo. A gift to all of us from the late Gerrit Smith. He made certain that these protected lands would be available for all of those with less. We are all in charge here.”

The entitled cityslickers chuckled in disbelief at the audacity of these rag-tag farmers, who shouldn’t have the same privileges as ‘real Patriots.’ Being the expert at emotional disengagement during negotiations with hostiles, the deputy director took out his Full-dress tin and a premium cigarette to light up. The deflecting pause helped him formulate engagement plans without the immediate need to respond.

Just being up against these primitive locals, he almost didn’t need to seize the power of eminent domain; Who would come to ‘save’ these former slaves, tribal savages, and Apple-knockers from the Orient? The deputy director would not even need to begrudgingly issue any government checks or creatively bamboozle them with wooden Nickels and false promises; he could freely steal all of the Adirondacks’ water sources once logistics got finalized, and figure out the legalities later. Gerrittown or any other place will not stand in the way of ‘progress’.

Opting not to waste his energy, the deputy director smugly gave the locals a fake smile and tipped his hat. He motioned his subordinates to move the car. A dozen pairs of eyes followed them as they drove further into the center of Gerrittown. The dust from the unpaved road would cover the onlookers as they drove past, but in the rearview mirror, the deputy director would still see the silhouettes of townspeople with their unflinching gaze…

After a few minutes, the Cadillac ended up in a familiar place. It was the same yam farm as before. The farmers paused their duties to glower at the entitled townies in transit until they disappeared from view. Up ahead, like before, would be the town center, with the same annoyed look and daggers from the villagers.

“Are we lost? What are we doing? We have to be back in Albany to regroup. Hurry it up, will you?”

Frustrated with being on a dust-filled, never-ending parade of shame, the deputy director nudged the driver up front to make haste. However, they would continue this exhausting loop for a few more hours. The engineer sitting at the front passenger seat noticed the driver obsessing and tapping the fuel gauge. Leaning over for a closer look, he, too, bit his lip. Their boss will not like this.

“Sir, um… Seems we will not have enough fuel to return to Albany at this point. Would it be prudent to find ways to communicate with headquarters from downtown, and have our men bring gas and other reinforcements tomorrow morning?”

Begrudgingly, they headed back to Main Street, but as soon as the car came to a stop, the townfolks receded into their homes or places of business and closed the door. Seems the BWS were not welcome anywhere, except for one rundown neighborhood Inn at the end of the street, with a weathered ‘VACANCY’ sign...

Annoyingly, the townies surveyed the unswept rickety shack and reluctantly entered the dim reception area. The front passengers impatiently rang the rusty desktop bell by the worn reception counter.

DING DING DING…

“Hey-!? Who runs this place? A Church Mouse? Can we get some help around here? Two rooms, and luggage in the car? Anyone??”

“We also need a phone, or a messenger. We will pay good money… Make hay while the sun still shines… Anybody? Hello?”

As the driver and the engineers proceeded with their obnoxious behaviors to intimidate and get their way, a weathered, scrawny hand emerged from under the counter and grasped the engineer’s palm as he attempted to hit the bell again. The other hand slammed two rusty keys with a deformed rabbit's foot tied to them with a noosed twine. After letting go of the engineer’s hand, the receptionist pointed to the dark stairs that were diagonal to them. The driver wanted to haggle the price, but behind him, the director arrived and motioned the subordinates to just head upstairs.

“One thing’s for sure. This ain’t the Waldorf. Holy Cats! Would it kill them to tidy up a bit here? So many cobwebs…Gives me the creeps.”

“What the hell was that at the counter, anyway? A Tommyknocker? Bloodybones? Maybe a Catawumpus?”

“Maybe a big muskrat. That’s good. That means the water source is up to snuff, you see?” said the Director, as he shook his room key with the grotesque furry foot.

“I’m getting stir-crazy in this dump. Would it kill these hillbillies to have at least one decent watering hole around? It’s dry as a bone! What do they do for fun around these parts? Not even a half-decent looking doll on the dirt road either.“

“Probably howl at the moon or watch pumpkins grow? Bunch of shitsticks.”

The trio mockingly laughed in unison.

“I will get a better look. Maybe there’s a can house somewhere to plug a few local wives? Gonna go schmear the bloodybone downstairs for the town attraction. You gents want to come with?”

“I will hit the hay. Mind your Ps and Qs out there, boys. We leave first thing in the morning.”

While the driver and the engineers headed out into town, the director decided to sit on his dusty bed in his room. Without the need to babysit his engineers, he could quietly formulate a plan of action to present to his shareholders the next day. In the process, the long day of travel and posturing to the opposition began to take their toll. The director fell into a deep slumber.

…I know what you did...

…It was you…

The director first believed that the muffled murmurs were from next door. Then again, the voices had a subaquatic distortion that rumbled closer with each accusation.

…You took everything away…

…Now we have no place to rest…

…LOOK AT ME WHEN I SPEAK!..

With his heart racing, the director tried to get out of bed, but he felt immense pressure holding his entire body down. Something then forcefully pried his eyelids open.

“Hey… Hey! Lay off me! I don’t know if this is the local way of treating visitors, but don’t think for a minute that I will fall for these antics! I’ve seen better in Coney Island! You’ll be sorry once my…”

…All hat and no cattle…

That voice was so close that he felt the stale breath next to his sweating temple. Yet nobody was visible in his dimly lit room.

…You will experience the anguish you’ve caused…

…No one will come to save you…

To the director’s horror, the furniture around him began to wobble, ping-pong with one another, and float. He began to feel the bone-chilling dampness on his bed sheets, and realized that the room was quickly overflowing with murky water. He screamed and yelled, yet he could not move a muscle. The rushing water steadily rose with every heartbeat. He could only watch helplessly as he became engulfed in the surging flood. He desperately took in deep breaths before being completely submerged. In the chaos of it all, his eyes adjusted to the green water, and he finally saw those who trapped him.

Shadow-like figures were floating at all four corners of the bed, each clamping onto his limbs with a vice-like grip. No amount of screaming in the abyss did any good for the director. He only ingested more and more of the rushing putrid water he so ambitiously wanted to profit from. The director's chest desperately sought air, and in the process he felt as if he would explode from the mounting pressure. The suffering was excruciating, and his bubbled screams that floated to the underwater ceiling of his room became less and less. Through being in and out of consciousness, the drowning man began to see faint visions of towns and villages that he submerged. The debris floating was decaying skeletal remains from burial grounds that didn’t get the chance to be properly relocated. Slowly but deliberately, they all floated closer and closer to him, with an unrelenting chant that echoed through his body…

…This was never yours to take…

…You will suffer for your greed…

…This was all for the greater good…

…Remember?…

As he felt his life slipping away, a vortex opened in the distance, and it grew larger and larger into a whirlpool. It tore through the sunken town and beelined for the director. He was violently plucked out of his bed and mercilessly spun at terminal speeds, while being pulled closer and closer to a bright opening towards the surface. In a split second, with immense force, he was pushed out of the bedroom door and slammed onto the creaky wooden hallway of the inn. He vomited out the water, as he remained shivering in his own puddle. It felt like an eternity since the last time he was able to breathe. All alone, the prestigious statesman lost his composure and bellowed with terror and confusion. His frigid body curled in a U-shape.

“What… What the hell… What was that?” He shook his head, still feeling battered and weak. Gradually, with his leg trembling, the director stood up while clinging to the doorknob of his room. Trying to remember who he was, he repeatedly slapped his face. The director did his best to rationalize his experience as just a vivid dream. He was getting his bearings straightened and began yelling for his subordinates to leave this god-forsaken town immediately. All he had to do next was get back into his room to gather his belongings and head downstairs.

As he slowly pushed the heavy door open, A wave rippled outward towards his bed. The flood had receded to ankle level, but the murky cold water remained; It was not simply an imagined nightmare. As he wobbled over to gather his belongings, the water beneath him began to swirl and tugged at his every step, like a rip current. Then he heard the voice again.

…Make it right…

…You know what to do…

“I…I..I was just following orders! It was just…”

Before the director could even finish his plea, a rogue wave formed from the corner of the room. The boiling mass of white, as high as the ceiling, lunged at him with its crest formed like the liquid edge of a sword. The irresponsible coward retreated immediately, only to be flushed out and tumble all the way down the stairs. Battered and choking, but he wasn’t down on the first floor for long. Half-clothed and drenched, the director frantically ran out of the inn, screaming repeatedly.

“Th…Th..This place is cursed!” -Immediately, he heard the same voices echo in surround sound-

…No one will believe you…

…Nothing will ever be the same for you…

Later the next day, the local deputy found the delusional director walking down the county road, mumbling about a town that hasn’t existed in several decades. It took two officers to subdue the maniacal man. He ended up being admitted to Hudson River State Hospital for the Insane in Hyde Park. He never made it back to Albany or Manhattan. Neither did the driver or the two engineers. It seems they drifted off the local road that night and plunged into the middle of Cascade Lake. Two of their bloated bodies were found floating on the surface a few days later. The Cadillac and the other body were never recovered and remained sunken at the bottom of the deep lake.

Their replacements at BWS ultimately decided not to pursue the North Elba project.

It seemed there was a limit to what could be sacrificed for the greater good.

May this lesson in greed ripple eternally.