Category Archives: serial fiction

A Burning Cold Morning (Part 16)

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crocker company lounge chair courtesy wisc.edu

Leo passed the remainder of that Christmas Day sleeping and sitting around in his favorite chair, a lounge from Crocker Company that had come with the place.  It was not a piece of furniture that he would have chosen himself, but it was well made and comfortable.  In the evening he made himself a simple ham sandwich for dinner and then went to sleep for the night.  Rising at six a.m. the next morning, he shuffled down to the restaurant for breakfast.  He was sitting there, just about to get his first sip of coffee, when he noticed that the place had become eerily silent.  The other patrons were all staring past Leo’s table, some of their mouths agape and most of them with slightly worried expressions on their faces.  A ball of nausea formed in Leo’s stomach as he slowly turned his head, expecting to see Shannon’s henchmen behind him.

tom pendergast

Instead, standing just a few steps away, was Tom Pendergast.   He was an imposing figure, stoutly built and with a round face that exuded a quiet confidence along with a kind of aloof warmth.  His eyes appeared large and peered out from beneath thick eyelids, their icy depth a stark contrast to the rest of his soft face.  The moniker of ‘Murdering Teddy Bear’ had been used more than once behind Pendergast’s back and Leo had to admit that it fit the man well.  He stood there, towering over the seated Leo, not saying a word but instead quietly surveying the clientele.  After several more long moments, he took two steps forward and placed his hand on Leo’s shoulder.

“How’s your breakfast?” Pendergast asked, his voice soft but raspy.

Leo’s hands were shaking a little and he grabbed the cup, still held aloft and about a quarter of the way to his mouth, with both hands to steady it.

“Just fine, just, just starting,’ Leo stammered in reply.

“Good, good.”  Pendergast patted Leo again on the shoulder before sitting down across the table from him.  Leo was lost for what to say and a minute or more passed in silence as he nervously sipped coffee while Pendergast peered at him intently.  Eventually Leo composed himself enough to speak.

“Did you like what,”

“Did you sleep well son?” Pendergast interrupted.

“Well, sure, yes, I guess, I did, yes I slept fine.”

“Good.  You deserved to,” Pendergast replied and then he stood up and walked off, back toward the entrance.  Quickly standing up to follow, wanting to hear some praise for his work, Leo took only one step before the large hand of an equally large man stopped him.

“Good work,” the man said and then slapped an envelope into Leo’s hand before finishing with, “now sit down and enjoy your breakfast.”

Ten seconds later the man,  Pendergast and three others who had been arranged near the doorway were gone and the clatter of people eating slowly returned to the restaurant.  As he sank into his seat Leo could feel eyes glancing over at him inquisitively.   Slowly opening the envelope, he found one hundred and fifty dollars inside, which brought a smile to his face.  Obviously, Pendergast had been impressed enough to give him a fifty dollar bonus on the job.  That had to be a good sign.  Spirits buoyed by the encounter, Leo ate a large, leisurely breakfast before retiring back to his room.  Around noon, while he was dozing off in the lounge chair, a hard knock sounded at his door.  Opening it, Leo was greeted by the somber face of Red Godding.

“Lee, you’ve got trouble,” he said, stepping into the room and then closing the door.

“You mean about the Shannon caper, I suppose?”

“Damn right about that.”

“Ya wanna know something?  Tom Pendergast came by this morning and personally thanked me for doing it, came right to my table at breakfast.”

Red replied only with a skeptical look.

“Well, he came to my table anyway, said I deserved a good night’s sleep, that’s the same coming from him I suppose.  And they paid me fifty extra clams so I must have made an impression, huh?”

“Look, I dunno why he would’a come to see you personally, it’s not really his thing.  But maybe he did.  The caper was his idea after all so maybe he thought it would be a good idea to let you know he appreciated it.  But that don’t mean nothin’ now.  You got a mark on your head from Shannon and you better leave town right now if you plan on living much longer.”

Leo blinked a few times in rapid succession, absorbing the idea that someone had actually put a price on his head.  That was frightening but he was not worried.

“Well, Pendergast’s gonna protect me, that’s what I figure.  I mean, I just did him a big favor.  He wouldn’t let anything happen to me after that, so why should I be afraid.”

“Good lord you are a stupid man Lee, a stupid, stupid man.  You don’t mean a thing to that man or anyone in his gang.  Maybe the real reason he came by was just to look at you before you died.  He had to know about that price on your head because Shannon put that mark out Christmas Day.  And maybe that fifty was just a way to say, get the hell out of town boy.”

Now Leo was not feeling so confident.  “Seriously?  They are just going to hang me out like that after what I did?”

“Without even thinking about it for a second,” Red replied.

“Bushwa!”

“Think what you like Lee, but leave here and do it today.”

Leo leaned back in his chair, slowly stroking his chin.  He still did not completely believe that Pendergast would abandon him, especially after coming to see him personally at breakfast.

“I’ll think about it,” he replied.

Red snorted in disgust, got up and walked out the door.

…to be continued

A Burning Cold Morning (Part 14)

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Now that the moment was upon him, he was more nervous than he had hoped to be and was a little angry at himself because of it.  Leo wanted to be a cold, hard criminal, part of the Pendergast machine, and getting the shakes because he had to pick a lock in the darkness was no way for such a person to act.  His was, however, trembling as he tried to get the lock open and the picks fell several times from hands which were also starting to lose feeling from the cold.  Frustration building inside of him, Leo took a deep breath and tried again, still to no avail.  Glancing at his pocket watch he realized that ten minutes had already gone by and it was very close to ten o’clock.  Fumbling the picks again, he picked them up and this time, with his eyes squinted up in frustration and foggy breath blowing out in ragged bursts, he managed to get the lock open.  He then quietly pushed the door open, threw his packages into the car and waited for the bells.

Church Tower Kansas City

Church Tower Kansas City

Ten o’clock came and went but nothing happened.  Leo sat there in the vehicle of one of the most powerful men in Kansas City, in possession of two items that were going to be hard to explain, armed bodyguards only a short distance away, and with the the cold creeping into his body and waited in silence.  Ten oh-three, ten oh-four, and still nothing but the cold air and his own breathing.  At ten oh-five something slammed from the direction of the house and Leo almost took off running, but nothing else followed that sound and the silence returned.  Finally, at ten oh-eight the bells pealed in the distance and Leo pushed the button to start the Renault.  Nothing happened, so he pushed it again to no effect.  Realizing that he was going to have to hand-crank the engine, he swore and jumped out.

As he slid the hand crank into the generator unit, Leo could still hear the bells although he knew that was not going to last much longer.   The man he had paid had stated that after a few minutes of them ringing the priest, who lived two houses away, was going to come looking for a reason.  It took two attempts but finally the vehicle fired up and Leo sped out of the storage shed, clipping the edge of the door with the back wheel,  just thirty seconds before the bells stopped ringing.  He could hear the last sounds from them fading into the night as he turned east onto Twenty-Seventh Street headed toward Union Cemetery.

Leo still did not have a solid idea about hiding the car but his immediate plan was to stick to the middle of the city.  The Rabbits firmly controlled everything down by the river and the Goats had most of the southeast portion, east of the KC Rail Line, under their power.  That left a portion of the city, roughly bordered by four schools, where one was least likely to run into an operative of either side.  Turning north off of Twenty-Seventh, Leo took Broadway and then turned into what he considered to be the safe zone on Sixteenth Street.  As he passed the Webster School a small feeling of relief came over him although the adrenaline was still pumping fairly strongly through his body.  His senses were on high alert and several times he thought he caught the sound of a vehicle approaching; however, each time this proved to be false.  Turning north on Oak Street, two blocks later Leo arrived at Central Place, a park area almost directly in the center of his safety zone.  Still without a plan as to what to do for the remainder of the night, he pulled the vehicle over into a dark, tucked away corner of the park and listened for any sounds of pursuit.

As he sat there, finally out of immediate danger, the adrenaline finally left his body and his hands and legs began to shake uncontrollably.  Scolding himself again, Leo tucked his hands under his armpits and clenched his leg muscles in a attempt to get the shaking to stop.  Eventually it did of course and his breathing, which he had not noticed was irregular and fast, also returned to normal.  The night settled in quietly around him again, and although he was getting very cold Leo felt a strong sense of accomplishment.  He was certain that this was going to get him an invite to join up with Pendergast.

It was forty minutes later, around eleven o’clock, when Leo heard the distant but approaching sound of what seemed to be several vehicles.  Knowing that it was extremely unusual for multiple vehicles to be on the road late at night, and especially on Christmas Eve, he had the sudden sinking feeling that the theft had been discovered.  Knowing that these possible searchers would eventually make their way to his location, Leo started up the Renault again and headed back out onto Oak Street.  He was making things up as he went at this point, so he headed south down Oak even though that brought him closer to Goat territory.  Going that direction had to be better than going toward the river where someone was sure to recognize Shannon’s vehicle.  Willing the car to be quiet, Leo eased it down the road, watching and listening intently as he went.  Crossing over Eighteenth he was suddenly lit up by the headlights of another vehicle and a small yelp escaped his lips before he could control it.  As the vehicle went past, two old men who hardly looked his way, Leo fought down the impulse to shout profanities at them.

He could now see two sets of headlights trailing behind him on Oak, and seeming to gain ground.  Making a quick turn onto Twentieth Street Leo pressed the car hard and was soon going almost forty miles per hour.  The headlights turned his way, still seemingly in pursuit, so he turned hard onto Holmes Street and then west onto Twenty Third.  The lights still followed him; however, and he made another attempt to lose them by turning onto Grand Ave and really pushing the vehicle as hard as he could, eventually reaching a speed of forty-four miles per hour.  As he crossed over Twenty-Seventh Leo saw that he was back in the area of Union Cemetery and he impulsively slammed the brakes and pulled in, careening through the open gate and onto the dirt road that wandered among the graves.

Union Cemetery Kansas City

Union Cemetery Kansas City

Although he could no longer see any lights behind him he was certain that the chase was not over, so he drove deep into the cemetery and pulled the vehicle behind a large stone monument.  Shutting it down, he leapt out, taking his packages with him, and ran to a small copse of trees about twenty feet away.  Out of breath and sweating, he sat down and waited.

…to be continued

A Burning Cold Morning (Part 13)

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Early the next morning, Christmas Eve, he stopped the church’s maintenance man as he was unlocking the side door. Seven dollars later Leo had a promise from him to ring the church’s bells at 10 p.m. that night.  He had hoped for it to cost less, initially offering three dollars, but the man had been insistent, stating that there was a decent chance he would get fired over it and that he would need the additional money to tide him over until he found new work.  Leo also knew that technically the car was supposed to be stolen on Christmas  Day but that had been impossible to convince the maintenance man to go along with as “ringing them bells on Jesus’ day is surely a sin no money can save me from.”  So, it would have to be Christmas Eve, and maybe he could hide the car someplace overnight to make good on the original instructions.

With those things settled, Leo had some time to spare until he needed to start actually acting on his plan later that night.  As he sat nervously in his room that morning he came up with one final detail that he thought would ensure his place in Pendergast’s organization.  For that he needed to take another walk, this one outside the city limits, and go kill some rabbits.

These rabbits would be the animal kind, not their human namesakes that were controlled by Shannon.   Leo had brought a small pistol with him, tucked into his pocket as he made his way past Market Square and then alongside the train depot that fronted the Missouri River near the bridge.  Forty minutes later he was well away from the main part of the developed area in Kansas City and picking his way along the riverbank.  Red Godding, who was country-born and raised before embarking on his criminal career, often talked about killing rabbits down in this area of the river, bringing them back to the Savoy to make into stew.  Leo did not know much about hunting, having avoided it as much as possible during his own youth, but he figured that it could not be that hard to kill a few small animals.  This of course proved to not be true and several other men he ran into, armed with traps and rifles, gave him looks of pity and amusement as they saw him hiding with his pistol in hand.  Leo persevered though and, after two hours of crouching in river weeds and behind trees, he had two rabbits in hand to take back with him.

Stashing his kills in a box, Leo took a nap and woke up around six-thirty in the evening.  Knowing he had a long night ahead of him, he ate a large dinner down at the Savoy’s restaurant and then went back to his room to prepare himself.  He spent a little more time practicing with the lock and then pulled out a map of the city.  Although he had his original route well-planned and memorized, he wanted to be familiar with as much of the city’s layout as possible.  This was especially important now that he was stealing the car early and was going to have to hide out with it for awhile.  He came up with a few general ideas but nothing definite, hoping that he could finalize his plan on the way to Shannon’s house later in the evening.  Setting the map aside, Leo then pulled out a piece of wood that he had picked up out of the scrap bin of a lumber mill a week before while on a walk.  He had given the message some thought, wanting it to be derogatory enough to really impress Pendergast.  Written sloppily in black paint, the message read:

Shannon is a Zozzled Four-Flusher

Who’s The Next Dead Rabbit?

After the paint dried he wrapped it in burlap, cleaned up, and then got ready to depart.  It was cold that day, around twenty-six degrees by evening with the temperature still dropping, and Leo pulled on a sweater before shrugging into a grey wool overcoat and snapping his gloves closed at the wrists.  Shoving the rabbits into a canvas bag and tucking the sign under his arm, he put on his fedora, cocking the brim up just a little over his right eye, and walked out to steal Joe Shannon’s Renault.

As he walked south toward his target’s house, Leo thought again about what to do with the vehicle after he stole it.  He was a little bit uncertain about how Pendergast was going to view the fact that he was stealing the car on the wrong day, but he was certain that displaying it to mock Shannon before Christmas morning was going to result in not getting paid.  Kansas City was a big enough place, but Leo did not have any acquaintances who owned building where something as big as the Renault could be hidden.  All of his friends lived in rooms much like his own if not smaller.  Also, with large portions of the city controlled by one of the two factions, there really were not many places he could go that someone would not report seeing the Renault either to Pendergast or Shannon.  He continued thinking about it all the way to the Orphan’s House, trying to avoid the few people out for a late Christmas Eve stroll as much as possible, but had not come up with anything by the time he arrived at eight forty-five in the evening.

He rested there, in the darkness behind the Orphan’s House for fifteen minutes, stomping his feet to keep the feeling in them and blowing warm breath inside of his gloves.  He then picked his two packages back up and walked briskly toward Shannon’s house.  As he approached he could see two lights still on in the upstairs windows although the bottom floor was entirely dark.  Ducking off the road, behind a large tree and a group of cedar bushes, Leo waited and watched, hoping that all of the lights would be extinguished.  That, however, did not happen and at nine forty-five, with only fifteen minutes to spare until the bells rang, he knew that he had to make his move.  Walking rapidly up to the secured shed door, fedora now pulled down over both eyes, Leo set down the dead rabbits and the sign, yanked off his gloves and pulled out his lock picks.

…to be continued

A Faraway Song (Part 30)

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That is where I left it all of those years ago, taking with me a head full of questions, a real feeling of having left things unresolved and that little toy car as a memento of my adventure.  I had left reluctantly but also had sensed the danger I was in, a strange feeling that I would have thought impossible to experience in the civilized world.  On my long drive back to my regular life I had vowed to go back at some point and keep seeking answers, much more brave as the distance between myself and Clyde Forks increased.  I never did of course, life taking over and the pressing need to solve the mystery fading softly away.  I would go back to it occasionally, usually triggered by some other event in my life, but it always seemed very distant and remote, all the burning questions consumed by time.  I would dream about Clyde Forks sometimes, or some member of the cast of characters I had met, or stay up an extra few minutes wondering about my experience up there.  Most of the time I found it hard to believe I had been so wrapped up in it, or so convinced of a great conspiracy.  It was a just an innocent small town, weird for sure, but innocent.

That was right where I was with it when I happened upon that podcast.  That program detailed the disappearance of a young boy from an area near Calabogie.

article courtesy re cbc.ca

A good, quick summary is also available here:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Disappearance_of_Adrien_McNaughton

Listening to that podcast brought everything back in a wave of memory and those old events suddenly seemed much clearer than before.  That led me to digging through a pile of old boxes until I found the journal I had kept on that trip.  Sitting down and reading it left me with those questions I posed at the beginning of this story.  How could I have just left and stopped looking into what happened up there?  And, what did it all have to do with this missing boy?

The End…for now

A Faraway Song (Part 29)

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I heard a faint sound to my left and realized that Mabel was speaking, much too lowly for me to hear.  I knelt down by the side of her chair, trying to catch what she was saying.  She had a sad but defiant look on her face and was staring not at me, but at the reverend.  I think she realized I had not heard her as she cleared her throat and resumed speaking a little more loudly, more like a loud whisper now.

“Children are precious, and important.  And in some places they are rare.  They are what brings light and joy.”
“I think we can all agree to that,” stated the reverend.

I waited for her to continue, to finish, but nothing happened.

“So, you are going to be part of this cover-up too?” I asked her.  “Why did you bother to help me then, to give me the clue about the red crow?  That’s a big part of what got me tangled up in this in the first place.  Why?”

I got no answer and tried again but she remained silent.  Finally the reverend took me gently by the arm.  I stood up slowly.

“Listen, it’s really time for you to go.  Like Mabel said earlier, we got you a few answers, not many and not all of them that you wanted I know, but a few.  That’s all you’re likely to get.  You have to leave.”

“I guess you got your answers and that’s good enough then?” I snapped back at him.

“That’s unkind,” he replied, although he looked just a little bit guilty.

I stood there, feeling unfulfilled, and staring out through the window into the church parking lot.  This little bit of information only seemed to make the remaining questions seem even more important, more urgent.  I really believed that a child was being hidden in this community but at the same time I had no definitive reason to believe that anything illegal had taken place. Who was this child, and to whom did it belong? What was the exact nature of this supposed evil presence in the area?  Was it real or the fantasy of a heartbroken old man?  Or was it something else? There did not seem to be anyone willing to help me figure these things out.  And then there were a bunch of other questions, much smaller and less important, but they still made me feel crazy to think of them going unanswered.  Maybe this place really did just have a much different way of living, of acting and of protecting its children.  Perhaps the evil did not exist at all, or was just an exaggerated myth. It could be that I had managed to stumble into the quirkiest place in the world.  It just all seemed so strange and weird.

I had to try one more time.

“Reverend, what else do you know about this place.  You claim to know nothing but then you seem to have some information.  You tell me that you just got here, even Otto called you a, I think it was a placeholder, but then you knew to come and rescue me today.  You make vague allusions to other things you might know.”  I made sure he was looking at me before I finished.  “What are you really doing here?”

He smiled at me.  “I’m an outsider here, just like Otto said.  I might know a few things, information passed down from the religious men who were here before me, but mostly I’m just observant. That and curious.”  He winked at me and gave a very small laugh.

“I am too, and I just want to figure this whole thing out.  What’s the difference?”

“I belong here, or at least I am part of the fabric and culture of this place.   They expect one temporary religious man to always be present.  You’re not part of it, and there is nothing that can change that.  I’m sure you’re not satisfied but it really is time to go.  If it makes you feel better, remember this though as you leave.  This talk today, it helped me too, gave me a little closure on my own experience at the mine.  I guess her spirit must still be there.  I think that is going to help me a lot.  So thank you for that.  Now, go and forget about this place, and please don’t talk about it.  Give this place it’s peace.  I’ll watch the kaleidoscope up here for you.”  He made the twisting motion with his hands and opened the door.   “You’ll be safe getting to your truck.  Otto might be mad at you but he’ll be watching and won’t let any harm come to you.”

“I, listen, I just,”

“Son, your little temporary adventure is over.  It’s time to go.”  His voice conveyed a feeling of finality and also of warning.  I shook my head but stepped out the door.  It  had just about closed behind me when I pushed it back with my hand.  I peered inside and spoke to Mabel.

“What was her name, that girl that went missing down in the mine.”

“Her name was Melody.”

…to be continued

A Faraway Song (Part 28)

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That brought me to a stop for several seconds but then I recovered.  “You mean, like, more than one?”

“Yes,” Otto replied.

“So, when I was talking to him he said that six people had gone missing, or maybe it was seven.”  I stopped and tried going back in my memory, sticking up my fingers as I recounted the individuals in my head.  Then I continued.  “Ok, well, I think he said six, but then it was seven, and well, either way, there was always one that he didn’t want to talk about.”

A look passed between Mabel and Otto, one which both the reverend and I caught.  Neither of them spoke so I went on.

“So, are those the people that were his relatives? All of them?”

Otto seemed to be considering whether he would answer and Mabel whispered, “Go ahead” to him, which got her a glare in reply.  He did speak though.

“Well, I don’t know exactly what he told you about but it was probably mostly about them people he was related to.  Some miner was the first, his brother, just vanished one day right as they were closing up the camp around the mine.  Then another couple of miners, or laborers maybe, one of them was his uncle.  And crazy Hattie of course, that was his sister.”

“Crazy Hattie?”

“Bat-shit crazy woman who used to wander around this area, muttering to herself, stripping off clothes and setting them on fire, walking around naked after that.  Your friend from the house was forever bringing her clothes but she’d just end up burning them again a few days later or tearing them to shreds.  I never did figure out how she ever survived a winter, but she did, quite a few actually.  But then one day he found her campsite abandoned, no trace of her around, then or ever.”

“Maybe she lived in his house in the winter?”  Mabel asked but Otto did not reply.

“So those three?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“What about the rest of the people he talked about?  I think it was a boy and a old woman?”

“I answered your question, isn’t that enough?” Otto snarled back, a little bit of spittle jumping out of his  mouth.

“I’m just wondering about the others.  Did those other people really go missing?”

Mabel reached over and touched my arm, giving Otto a cautionary look as she did so.  “More people than that have turned up missing, and I’m sure they included those other ones you mentioned.  I think Otto was just telling you that there were three relatives that disappeared and that is what started the whole evil presence thing.”

“What about the one that he refused to talk about?  I tried a couple of times but he never told me.  Do you know about that person?”

Otto stood up quickly.  “Enough of this!  I answered his question reverend, now keep your promise and make him go away!”

“I’m not leaving until I get more answers!” I shouted back.

Otto turned, about to storm off I suppose, but the reverend spoke up.

“Please, let’s just get this done with, okay?  I don’t think that a little more information here is going to hurt.  Please.”

Silence followed and then Otto returned to his seat.  He wiped the side of his mouth with one pale finger and then spoke.

“It was a girl, one that was living with him.  A relative had dropped the child off one day and then never came back.  She was…’” he went silent without finishing, a faraway look in his eyes.

I wanted to press him but something about that look kept me silent.  He resumed speaking.

“She was ours, all of ours.  He couldn’t take care of her right, well not right exactly, just completely, like she should have been taken care of.  He was too old.  So we all helped look after her.  She was ours, a child for this place.  Ours.”

I did not think he was finished, and he did continue several moments later.  “Then, one day, she was gone.  Not a sign of her anywhere except this doll she played with, a golden-haired doll with a pink dress.”  Otto clenched his eyes closed, tightly, and shook his head.  I glanced over at Mabel, who was not hiding her tears.  The reverend was wide-eyed and staring intently at Otto and I.

“That doll, they found it on the path to the mine.  And that’s all I know and all you need to know.  Now leave!”  Which is what Otto did, slamming the office door behind him.

The reverend leaned back and let out a very large sigh.  “Well, I can’t say I expected any of that.  What a story.  Is it true?”  He asked this while looking at Mabel, who had still not bothered to clean up her face.

“Yes, it is,” she whispered back.

We all sat there in silence for almost five minutes, then I spoke up.

“You know, I still don’t know about the real mystery around here.”

“You got some answers, isn’t that enough?” the reverend replied.

“Not really. I’m sorry, but it isn’t.  The thing I really want to know is who lives in that house with, well, the guy I call Brown Suit?”

“I’m not sure anyone does son.  Maybe it’s just your imagination, maybe you are a little too wrapped up in this whole thing that you see as such a mystery.  Don’t you think that you might just be making that part up?”

“No, I don’t.  I felt like someone else was there when I was in the  house, and I heard it later with my own ears.  I heard a child, right here, right on that street back there,” I replied while pointing back in the direction of Cemetery Road.  “What is the big secret here?”

…to be continued

A Faraway Song (Part 27)

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He remained silent, staring at the reverend who stared right back at him, one eyebrow raised.  Otto breathed heavily, grunted and then spoke.

“Yes.  But that’s got nothing to do with any of the matter you are so worked up about.  She was just a missing girl and I saw her in a car.”

“Are you sure it was her?  The report I read,”

Mabel cut me off.  “Listen, it’s not relevant as Otto already said.  We’ll get you a few answers, but it will likely be a very few and you shouldn’t waste them on that Wilson girl.  Otto here is a good man but protective of this place.”  She had a kind look on her face but the tone in her voice was less friendly, much more matter-of-fact. I took her suggestion to heart and spent a minute trying to compose my thoughts.

“So, are you part of this whole thing also?”  I asked her.

“I live here, so yes, I am part of this community.  Still, I’m trying to help you out a little, ok?”

“Are you really going to help me, really answer my questions?” I directed that inquiry at Otto.

He looked over at the reverend, then at me and then at the floor before answering.  “I’ll answer, maybe.  You need to leave here, that’s what I think, just leave now and don’t bother us again.  These two seem to think otherwise, like we owe you something.  If it’ll get rid of you, I’ll answer…maybe.  Why do you think we should help him anyway, reverend?”

The reverend leaned forward.  “Because I’m sure we don’t want to have anything unfortunate happen here and I think if you give him a few simple answers, well that will be enough to satisfy his curiosity.  Then he can go in peace and we all go back to our regular lives.”

“And he won’t go telling others and bringing more trouble up here?”

“I’m sure that if we answer his questions honestly that he won’t feel the need to tell anyone about anything because there won’t be anything to tell.”

I was not too sure of the truth of that statement but did my best to look like I might be able to be convinced.  The reverend urged Otto to cooperate again.

He seemed unconvinced, his face closed and hard.  He grunted and glared at me.  “Well, boy?”

“Who lives with Brown Suit?”  All I received was a blank look.  I was about to get angry when I realized that my nicknames for these people were known only to me.  “Ok, listen, nobody around here will tell me their name, or at least most people won’t.  I don’t know why, but it seems to be a thing.  I just figured her name out when the reverend said it.”  Mabel looked back at me but did not offer to add anything.  “So, I have nicknames for people.  That guy at the end of the road, the house with the big tree down in the yard?”

Otto nodded in reply, so I figured that meant he understood who I was talking about.  He, of course, did not offer me a name to use, so I went back to nicknames.  “I call him Brown Suit.  So, who lives with him?”
Otto did not answer nor did anyone else in the room.  I threw up my hands.

“This is not going to work.  I’m going back to my truck.”  I stood up but the reverend waved me back down.  “Take it easy.  Remember that this information you want, well it really isn’t any of your business although you seem to have made it that way.  I’m trying to get you a few answers but you need to be patient.  Maybe start with something else?”

I really felt like it still was not going to be very useful but I began again.

“Do people really disappear from around here?”

“What do you mean?” replied Otto.

“I mean, Brown Suit told me that a bunch of people have disappeared from this area.  He believes that the mine is haunted by some evil thing, a presence that, well, I guess he believes it lives in this area.  He thinks it travels around and he follows it, trying to feed this thing his rabbits.”  I was met with silence which I thought meant they did not understand what I was saying so I added, “you know, so that the evil thing eats the rabbits instead of people.  He thinks it feeds on life energy or something like that and that he can substitute rabbits for people because all life has this energy.”  More silence followed that, which is when I realized that it was because I was not telling them anything they did not already know.  It was just the silence of people listening to a well-known story.

“So, then, people do go missing from here?”

Otto looked over at me, waited a few moments and then spoke.  “A few people went missing, sure they did.  People go missing from all over.  That’s not what’s making him believe in evil things.  He believes in that because of who goes missing.”

I shook my head in confusion.  “What? You said it wasn’t the people then you said it was?”

“I said who it was.”

Before I could ask again, the reverend interjected.  “I think it would be more clear to say that he believes in this evil because of exactly which people it is that go missing.”

That helped.  “Oh, so which exact people are going missing?”

“His relatives,” Otto answered and then added, “a few of them anyway.”

…to be continued

A Faraway Song (Part 26)

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That shocked me but also seemed to release all the tension from my body and a wave of extreme weariness came over me.  I stopped walking and swayed a little bit, at which point the reverend grabbed my other arm and propelled me forward.

“Let’s just keep moving for now, come on.”

Several minutes later I was sitting in the church office once again, this time with Eyebrows in a chair across from me, fanning herself with a copy of a religious magazine.  I felt very tired and was fighting to keep my attention on the moment as a long nap sounded like a much better option. The reverend stayed near the door, staring out the window for five minutes before joining us.  He sat down heavily in his chair and rubbed his hand across his forehead.  Eyebrows got up immediately, casting a hard look his way and muttering, “we all need something to drink, don’t you think?” under her breath.  She returned with a tray full of glasses and a pitcher of ice water, pouring one for each of us.  I had just started to drink when a sharp knock sounded from the door, startling me enough to make me choke.  Eyebrows looked at the reverend who had stood up so he could see out the small window.

“It’s Otto.  I wondered if he might show up.  It’ll be okay.”  He gave us both a small, reassuring smile and then let the man in.  I turned to look and my weariness left me.  It was Window Man.

Up close he still looked pale but not grey, which had been my initial impression of him.  His skin was actually almost translucent and waxy in appearance.  When I had run past him earlier I had caught a closer glimpse of his eyes which seemed to be shiny and less green than I had first thought them to be.  Now I saw that they were actually green with gold flecks that made them glow even in the subdued light of the church office.  He was not wearing his hat but had on a grey vest with a red feather partially sticking out of the watch pocket.  He spoke through thin, dark lips.

“I’m here to give you a simple message young man, not from those people down the road as I figure you got their message loud and clear.  This one is just from me.  You need to leave before you do some real harm to this community, or something happens to you.  Do you understand me?”  His voice was high-pitched and raspy.

I had recovered most of my wits and all of my stubbornness as he spoke, my resolution bolstered by a desire to make up for the fear I had shown earlier.

“I’m not here to harm anyone.  I just came here to check out a stupid old abandoned mine and got tangled up in all of this weirdness you have around here.  I’m just trying to figure out what’s going on.”

“This place may seem strange to you, but it’s just outside of your life experience.  Things here are just as normal for us as they have always been.”  As he finished he looked over at the reverend, then waved at Eyebrows.  “It figures you two would be the ones to come save this fella.  You two outsiders…” His voice trailed off, but then it came back, in the middle of a sentence which had obviously started in his head.  “…understand a damn thing about this place.”

Eyebrows snorted before replying.  “Don’t you be telling me who’s an outsider, Otto Clements.  I’ve been here plenty long enough to see very clearly what this place is, its beauty and its flaws.  Plenty of both, don’t ya think?”

“You’re still an outsider.  Marrying Tony never changed that.”

“Please, this isn’t getting us anywhere,” the reverend interjected.  Otto turned on him in response.

“You got nothing to say about who should or shouldn’t know things about this place.  You’re just another damn religious place-holder doing your turn in the woods.  Stay out of what you don’t understand.”

“I’m really trying to help you Otto, help you save your community as I think you just put it.  I know that you are the only one I have ever seen around here, other than Mabel,” and here he gestured toward Eyebrows, “that has shown any kindness to strangers that have passed through Clyde Forks.  That’s why I thought you might show up after what just happened out there.  And I also know that you aren’t a violent man and don’t want to see any kind of mob action take place here in this community that you care about so much.  So, let me help you get this young man on his way.”

Otto scowled back, then replied.  “You sure that you can convince this boy to leave here before something happens that can’t be undone?”

I spoke up before the reverend could reply.  “You think all these missing people are just normal?  You think that hiding children is some kind of innocent weirdness that I don’t understand?  I’m going to get some answers or.”  I stopped before finishing, as “die trying” seemed like a very bad choice of words given the earlier events.  “Well, I’m going to figure it out.”  I finished with that instead.

The reverend stood up and motioned to Eyebrows.  “Mabel, can you get a chair from the foyer please?”

She nodded and left the room as the reverend turned to Window Man.  “Otto, I know you mean well and that’s why I thought you might follow us here.  You know as well as I, honestly much better than I, that there are things about this place which would probably strike any rational person as strange.  At least, anyone who did not come from here.  A lot of those things have simple explanations that are much more innocent than they might appear.  I think we can clear up this matter a little bit for this young man and then get him safely on his way.  Can you help me with that?”

As Otto silently considered that, my brain was trying to figure out why his name sounded familiar.  Eyebrows, or Mabel as I now knew her to be, returned and set a chair directly behind him.  He was sitting down when it came to me.

“Otto Clements?  Is that you?  Are you the guy who reported the two-tone Dodge to the police when they were looking for Jenny Wilson?”

 

…to be continued

A Faraway Song (Part 25)

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I eyed each person as I approached them, my stomach turning in nervous anticipation of unknown possibilities, looking for any sign of immediate danger.  The first person I passed I had not seen before, a stocky, dark-haired man with a fat face and thick forearms that stuck out of the torn-off sleeves on a faded plaid shirt.  He grunted with every breath, his nostrils flaring and sweat running down his forehead.  Then came a couple I was also unfamiliar with, both of whom glowered at me from behind identical pairs of horn-rimmed glasses.  Than Mr. Overalls and a short, thin woman with a ruddy face and poorly dyed, but very bright red hair.  He stomped a foot down as I approached, causing me to jump, which seemed to amused Red Hair.  Another man, greasy and grimy from top to bottom, emerged from the auto parts garage behind them and spat in my direction.  A few more steps up the road stood what I figured to be my real threat.  Shotgun and the man standing with him.  It could not have been his father, as I had learned he was dead, but maybe an uncle or other close relative.  They looked remarkably similar, and equally threatening.

I have to admit that I almost lost my nerve at that point, almost turned and ran back toward Brown Suit, back down the gauntlet of people who seemed like friends compared to what I now expected to encounter.  A brief wave of nausea passed over me and I clenched my mouth, purposely biting my tongue to give me something else to think about.  The billowing colors up near Clyde Forks Road caught my eye again and now I could see that it was Eyebrows who was standing with the reverend.  Would she really let something happen to me?  Would these people actually do something terrible to me with those two watching them?  Were the reverend and Eyebrows even on my side, or were they simply the final part of this community action? I was not sure but thought it a bad sign that neither her nor the reverend seemed willing to walk down the road to be with me.

I resumed walking, a quiver in my knees, taking four steps before Shotgun moved the weapon from its resting place in his arms and leveled it at the ground off to my right.  It did not move from there as I approached him and the man who was with him did not move either.  Both sets of their eyes locked with mine and the message was clear.  Don’t come down this road again.  As I passed them, Shotgun starting swinging the weapon, keeping it aimed at the road just a little bit behind me.  I could feel my stomach clenching and I was soaked in sweat by the time I had moved twenty feet further.  Finally the weapon stopped tracking my progress and a  wave of relief swept over me.  I paused, bending over to rest my hands on my knees.  Before I could think about it, I promptly threw up in the road, my mind taking that moment to be worried about what kind of impression that was leaving on these people.  Wiping my mouth, I glanced back and saw the man next to Shotgun start to move the weapon off of his hip.  I took off running immediately and did not stop the rest of the way, passing about ten other people at whom I did not even look.  As I approached the sinking brick house, the last one on the road, I noticed that Window Man was there, leaning on his mail box but seemingly noncommittal about being involved in delivering the community’s message to me.  He settled for a short nod in my direction and then turned back toward his house.  Ten feet later I staggered to a stop in front of the reverend and Eyebrows and sunk to the ground, breathing heavily.

The two of them were silent as I recovered, my breathing finally settling down although a tremor remained in my body, some residual effect of the fear I had felt coming up Cemetery Road.  Finally, about three minutes after I had collapsed, Eyebrows reached down and took my arm, a gust of wind swirling her multi-colored shawl around my face.  With a little extra effort I managed to stand up and she kept hold of me, guiding me out of the intersection and east toward the church.  I could hear the reverend a few paces behind us, his shoes crunching against the road gravel.  I started to protest.

“My truck, let me get my truck.”  I pulled my arm but Eyebrows tightened her grip.

“We need to get you away from here.  I will come back and get it in a minute, once we have you inside,” the reverend replied, his voice soft but insistent.

“Just let me, well, ok, I guess.”  It did seem like a good idea to get inside somewhere safe.  “What the hell, sorry, heck, was that all about anyway?”

“I would call it a fast application of my warning to you,” the reverend answered while patting my back, “a very fast application.”

“You mean about the evil thing, the kaleidoscope?”

“Yes, that.”

We were almost out of the intersection of the two roads, and I turned my head quickly to look at my tormentors one more time.  The shawl was still swirling in the breeze and I had to reach up with my left hand and push it away.  I felt better, just a little bit defiant, making up for my fear I suppose, and I thought about flipping the bird to the people who had made me feel that way.  As I pulled the shawl down, ready to face them, I was surprised to see that Cemetery Road was empty.

 

…to be continued

A Faraway Song (Part 24)

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I stayed there for a few minutes, feeling confused but safe in the embrace of the building.  No wonder people seek out churches for refuge or sanctuary, as they do seem to have a sense of security embedded within their walls. I was tempted to stay, to maybe curl up in a pew and take a nap, but my curiosity got me moving.  When I finally stood up to leave I had no better idea of what I was planning to do next than I had when I first sat down, but I was determined to keep trying to solve this mystery.

By the time I had walked back to my truck it was too late to get anything else done that day.  The afternoon had slipped into early evening and the buzz of insects, finally able to emerge from their daytime hiding places, filled the air.  I set up my sleeping bag in the bed of my truck and then sat on the tailgate, rubbing myself up with insect repellent.  I had just kicked off one boot when I heard it.  A shout, youthful and excited, the kind of yelp small children give when opening a present or being given a puppy.  It rang out as clear as a church bell on a still afternoon, and seemed to echo a little in the surrounding trees.  Then there was a loud, thick bang, like a heavy piece of lumber falling onto cement, and then silence.  By that time I was running down the road, one boot sloppily tied up and hindering my speed.  I had no doubt about the direction that shout had come from, right down Cemetery Road, right from the house at the end.

By the time I reached the edge of Brown Suit’s driveway, all was quiet and still.  I could not even hear the insects anymore, but that was likely due to my pounding heart, which had the sound of blood booming in my ears.   After a few deep breaths I marched up to the door and started banging on it, yelling for someone to open it up.  When that got no response I walked around toward the rabbit enclosure and ran right into Brown Suit who seemed to be waiting for me.  He stood there, taking up more space than it seemed possible, blue eyes flashing with anger but also tinged with apprehension.  He put out one arm toward me.

“Get off my property, boy!”

“I heard it, you know I did, I, you.”  I stopped and took a few deep breaths, trying to compose myself and recover the ability to speak complete sentences.  Brown Suit’s arm remained outstretched.  “I heard that child again, it came from here, I know it did.  You know it did.”

“Leave.”

“What about all of those toys back there,” I shouted, pointing toward the area behind the Red Crow barn, “and the bike, what about that?”  I started to move, to try to go around him but something about his posture told me that he was not going to let me pass, no matter what sacrifice it cost him.  He was old and I should not have had a problem just pushing my way past, but in that moment it just did not seem possible.  By then I had also managed to realize that I was definitely acting foolishly, trespassing on private property, yelling accusations at an old man, and even thinking about forcing my way further onto his property.  I settled for a final threat.

“I know you have a child here, and I’ve been to Calabogie.”  I was not sure as I spoke what I exactly meant by the last part of my threat.  I did not have any definitive information tying that missing boy to this mystery, but then I did not have anything excluding him either.  I guess I was trying to get some kind of reaction out of the old man but he remained silent, his facial expression unchanged.

I turned to go, to walk away from the confrontation and leave Brown Suit to contemplate the implications of my words, and was brought to an immediate halt.  As I looked back up Cemetery Road I saw that it was lined with people.

They all stood there, right at the end of their respective driveways, silently looking at me.  Most of their arms were crossed and none of them looked friendly.  Shotgun had his favorite weapon cradled in the crook of his arm, and next to him stood an older man who had a similar weapon propped into the air against his right hip.  I looked behind me and Brown Suit had not moved, although his arm was down and his eyes now seemed amused.  His lips did not move but I heard him.

“Time to go.”

I moved slowly down his driveway and then stopped at the end of it, eyeing the assembled residents of Cemetery Road warily.  I felt like my next step, off of Brown Suit’s property, represented some kind of boundary that I was not sure I wanted to cross.  It was strange to think of his property as somewhere safe, or at least safer than what I might encounter once I stepped off of it.  The sounds of the insects were back even though my heart was now pounding just as hard as it had been before.  The buzzing seemed louder than it should have been, insistent and ominous,  and was effecting my ability to think straight.  Shadows were creeping into the road, the tips of garages and trees making shapes against the gravel.  I was frozen in place and the journey back to my truck seemed like a very long one.

I saw some movement up toward Clyde Forks Road and after a few moments realized it was Reverend Currie and someone else whom I could not make out.  He stood directly in the middle of the road, hands clasped behind his back, looking right at me.  The person next to him seemed to change shape, some billowing of various colors caught up in a breeze I could not feel where I stood.  I was not sure what his presence meant for me, but it did help to get me moving.  I took a minute to re-tie my boot and then stepped off, my right foot seeming to be in slow motion, and moved off of Brown Suit’s property.

 

…to be continued