by Jay Bower
“It’s okay. I know they’re odd at times, but they really are good people,” she said. Meagan held his hand all the way up the drive until he stopped and put the car in park. Slowly he turned the key and cut the engine. It was now or never, he thought and decided to get it done, like ripping off a bandage.
He looked at Meagan and she smiled at him. Her face glowed. He smiled back as they all got out of the car. Her mom came down the front porch looking as country as could be. She wore a long white cotton dress with an apron around her waist, probably in the middle of the kitchen magic she was known for. Her grey hair, though long, was pulled back in a bun. Her smile reminded him of Meagan.
“My dear kids, how good it is to see you!” she said and walked over to Meagan, squeezing her warmly in a hug that only a mom could give. She reached down and scooped up Noah. “Oh my, you are getting big!” she exclaimed. They embraced for a long time before she let go and gave Patrick a kind hug. “It’s so wonderful to see you three. Please, come on in. I was just finishing up some pies.” And she led them up the steps into the front door.
CHAPTER FOUR
“IT’S SO GOOD TO SEE you,” Meagan’s mom said again as they settled at the kitchen table. She scuttled about, bringing glasses of water for the three of them. Meagan’s dad slept in the spare bedroom.
“Yeah, Mom, it’s great to be here. I guess we’ll need to get used to this, huh?” she said as she winked at Patrick. He smiled back and took a long drink. The cool water soothed and refreshed. He didn’t know he needed a drink that badly, but June was good for things like that. Knowing what someone needed before they did seemed to be a gift of hers. He thought Meagan had inherited her magic as he took another long drink.
Noah beamed at his grammie. He didn’t get to see her often, but somehow it didn’t matter. They had a great bond and he bugged Meagan to let him call her at least once a week. Most of the time, from what Patrick overheard, their long talks were about Legos and video games. He only imagined how June felt about it.
June and Albert, Meagan’s parents, traced their lineage to Brownsville’s earliest settlers. Albert kept a box of records and deeds and photographs that went back at least a century; some even farther. He was a squirrelly old man, wiry in stature. He often had a beer in one hand and a Bible in the other. Patrick got along with him well enough. When Patrick decided it was time to ask Meagan to marry him, he went to Al first for his permission. He recalled her dad’s laughter.
“Are you sure you want to do that, boy?” Al asked him. Patrick didn’t know how to respond at first.
“Well, yes. Yes, sir. I do very much. I love Meagan, and I want your permission to marry her.” Al stared him straight in the eyes, all joviality gone. He had a cool, serious expression.
“I give you permission, though she’s more than you can handle. If you can take what she brings with her, I give you my complete blessing. But I warn you, son, she comes from a proud family. She is loyal to her family first above all else. If you can put up with that, then I see no reason why you shouldn’t marry her,” Al said.
Temporarily stunned, Patrick took a few moments before he replied. He thought Al was being dramatic and considered carefully before he said, “Yes, yes, I can handle all that she is, sir. She does come from a proud family and she can be bullheaded at times, but I can handle it, sir. I won’t do her wrong.”
Al patted him on his head and grabbed a beer for each of them. “Well, let’s have a drink, boy. Congratulations!” and he clinked his bottle with Patrick’s as they toasted to an engagement that hadn’t happened yet.
Patrick’s proposal to Meagan was a formality anyway. Everyone knew they would get married. They were together for the better part of five years, and in the natural evolution of relationships, it was an eventuality.
***
“DAD, CAN I GO outside? I wanna play by the creek,” Noah asked as he fidgeted in his seat. Patrick looked at Meagan and she nodded. “Yeah, son, go ahead. But keep your ears open for your mom or me. Got it?”
“Yeah, Dad, I got it,” he said. He hopped down and raced out the door. The late afternoon had warmed from earlier in the day. It was the perfect time to play outside.
Noah ran out the back door past the grey barn and through a field before he got to the tree line where a creek cut through the property. The shallow creek ran swift, and his grandpa told him it emptied into the Big Muddy River. He also said the Big Muddy eventually ended at the Mississippi, and the Big Muddy, with its access to the Mississippi, led to the founding of Brownsville. But at this moment, Noah didn’t care about all that. He was thinking about the fast-moving creek.
The creek was only about three feet wide. He sized it up and jumped across, landing on the soft bank with a thud. His feet sunk in the mud, but he made the landing and scrambled up the short bank and into the trees on the other side. The entire tree line was maybe twenty yards wide and bordered on either side by fields. On his grandparents’ side was a field of grass, and on the other side he saw dirt and rows. It looked like a farm of some kind, but he didn’t know what they grew.
Turning back around toward the creek, he ran quickly and jumped, crossing with ease. He landed on the other side and his momentum carried him forward, and he fell to the ground. Immediately, he rolled to his back, grabbing his wrist.
“Ouch!” he yelled. He hoped his parents didn’t hear him. They’d lecture him about being careful and watching out and all that mess. He sat for a few moments, gently rubbing his right wrist and watching the creek flow by. He stared at the rapidly moving water and noticed a leaf drifting aimlessly along the creek. Noah sat entranced by the sight, wondering what it would be like just to drift along wherever the water carried him.
After sitting for several minutes, Noah got up, dusted himself off, and walked along the creek in search of rocks or arrowheads. His grandpa told him that Indians (Native Americans, his mom always corrected) used to live in this area years ago, and if you were careful, you might come across some arrowheads. His grandpa had found several in the past, and Noah always went out to the creek to search for arrowheads and other oddities when he visited.
About ten yards from where he started, a dull-looking, strangely shaped rock poked up out of the ground. Noah stopped and crouched to get a better look. He thought it might be an arrowhead, which would be his first find ever. He dug around it with his fingers until he freed it from its muddy encasement. Rubbing the remaining dirt off, he could see it was a triangular piece of rock. His eyes grew wide. He cleaned it off in the creek. When he held it up, he wasn’t sure if it was an arrowhead or not. It certainly had the shape, but didn’t have any of the telltale signs of being carved like his grandpa said it would. He decided he’d at least bring it back just in case it was an arrowhead. If not, then he could toss it or keep it, because it was still pretty cool.
After he tucked it away in his front jeans pocket, a twig snapped ahead to his right. He froze. As far as he knew, he was alone. He wasn’t sure if a small animal or maybe a person had made the sound. He peered through the trees to his right but saw nothing. Noah waited a few moments, expecting someone to jump out. When he felt safe enough, he released the tension in his legs and took a couple steps, hoping to catch a glimpse of whatever it was. Again, this time to his left, another twig snapped. To Noah, it sounded like a much larger twig with a louder, deeper snap.
All the bad thoughts swirling in his mind formed into one knot of undeniable fear. He was too far from the house to make it back in time if there really were something dangerous nearby, but that seemed the only option. Noah decided to go back yet was afraid to startle whatever was stalking him out there. Turning away from the sounds, he shot off as fast as his legs would go.
He darted between trees and shrubs and fallen limbs, jumping a couple here and there, trying to get back to the house. A loud sound behind him made him turn, his face twisted in fear. Expecting a sasquatch or bobcat or something worse trailing him, he was surprised to find nothing but the
creek and trees. He didn’t care; he wanted out of there in a hurry.
Suddenly, as he turned his head back around to watch his step, he almost crashed into a nightmare. Before him was a ghoulish figure in a black robe and surrounded by flames. It appeared to float above the ground, and its skull-like face stared at him with large dark, hollow caverns where its eyes should have been. Its open mouth was a pit of flame, smoke escaping from its nostril cavities. Its black fabric robes swayed, engulfed in flames floating and swirling around it. It lifted an arm and stretched it toward Noah. The boy screamed. The creature flew at him, stopping when its hollow eyes were directly in front of Noah’s. He could feel the heat emanating from the thing. It emitted a wretched smell, something like road kill baking in the sun for days mixed with vomit. Noah felt his stomach lurch at the odor. The creature hissed at him.
“Boy,” it said in a low inhuman voice. “It is time. You belong to us now.” Each word dripped from its mouth like blood, grotesque and deadly. Noah trembled. Several other creatures like the first surrounded him, with their black flaming robes and flaming eye skulls. The front of Noah’s pants darkened as he urinated. He screamed for his dad. Backing away, he stepped into one of the creatures, its flames singeing the back of his shirt. He raised his hands to his face, hoping to hide from the evil around him. The soft swoosh of cloth swirling in the air made him think they were moving near him.
Noah screamed again, hoping he’d scare away the creatures or gain the attention of his family. Terror filled him.
One by one, they chanted at him.
“Boy…you belong to us now.”
They took turns speaking, as though forbidden to speak in unison. On his left, he heard, “Boy,” followed by, “you belong to us now,” behind him. “Boy,” one in front of him said, “you belong to us now,” another off to the side finished. He didn’t dare look at them. He’d heard of hell, and these things seemed the closest on Earth he could imagine that resembled the monsters from that awful place. He closed his eyes tighter. Surely, they would go away. What did they want from him?
The chorus of demonic voices grew louder as they chanted their threat. Voices surrounded him. They were relentless.
He screamed again and again, his throat growing hoarse.
Still, they continued.
“Boy, you belong to us now,” they recited, taking turns. He felt long bony fingers run across his back and claw at his hands, trying to pull them away from his face. Their fingers ran across his head and along his arms. They seemed to be curious more than anything; probing, but not causing pain to the boy. He wept in his hands, waiting and wishing for his dad to show up.
“Boy,” they said together in one voice, the previous restraint from speaking together removed, “you belong to us now! To us!” He felt trapped by their threats. Why would they want me? He was confused. He held his face tighter as the sounds of their voices grew closer and closer.
“Boy, you belong to us now.”
He didn’t want to open his eyes and face one of the scary things. He worried they might kill him and no one would know until it was too late.
“Boy, you belong to us now.”
Noah cried in his hands. He yelled out for his dad. The skull-faced monsters surrounded him, waiting to tear him apart with their bony fingers.
“Boy, you belong to us now.”
As quickly as they came upon him, their voices vanished to nothing. An eerie quiet surrounded Noah, broken by the sound of the creek flowing and a bird calling in the distance. He hesitated, waiting for their trick. The soft calming trickle of the creek was all he heard. Slowly, he lowered his hands, peeking through spread-open fingers. To his surprise, the creatures were gone. There were faint whispers in his mind as though they still taunted him, but their physical forms were gone. He spun around but didn’t see any sign of them. He felt a cool sensation on his legs and he looked down to see his pants wet. Embarrassed and scared, he started crying again.
He heard movement coming from the direction of his grandparents’ house, and his body shook. He waited for the creatures to fly in, surround him, and resume their horrible chanting. He cringed as the sound of breaking sticks and crunching leaves grew louder and closer. This had to be the end. He knew he’d die right here in the trees by the creek. He hoped his parents would find him after the creatures killed him. Their chants echoed over and over in his head. He closed his eyes, hands covering his face. Noah stood waiting for the inevitable, hoping it wouldn’t hurt too much.
“Noah!”
Noah froze. It was his dad! He uncovered his face. “Dad! I’m over here!” he yelled. His dad ran to him.
“Are you all right, Noah? I heard you yelling from the house. What’s wrong?” He bent over, hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. Wiping sweat off his forehead, he straightened up and looked at Noah. The boy trembled, his face pale.
“Dad, I saw…I saw things. I don’t know what they were. Dad, I’m scared,” he said. He ran to Patrick, clinging to him.
Patrick caressed Noah’s head. “Son,” he said as he took a step back and looked down at the boy, “what are you talking about? I ran out here as soon as you screamed, but I didn’t see anything. Was it an animal? Did you see a coyote? What happened to your shirt?”
“No, Dad. It was worse. They were…I…I don’t know what they were. They were scary. They flew and had flames and skulls. They had skulls!” He sobbed. “Dad, they said I was theirs. What did they mean?” Snot bubbled from his nose as tears ran down his cheeks.
Patrick stared at the boy, wincing at the wet spot on his pants. Noah felt his dad’s hand on his forehead, checking for a fever. “Okay, Noah, it’s fine now. I’m here. Come on, let’s go inside. It’s safe now.”
He held Noah close as they walked out into the field. The house wasn’t too far ahead. About halfway there, Noah turned around to look at the trees. He heard the evil chant again in his mind. He thought he saw a streak of flame dart among the trees. He turned back toward his dad. It was enough to make him cling to his father the rest of the way and not turn around again. He still heard the faint call, “Boy, you belong to us now,” as he stepped into the house.
CHAPTER FIVE
NOAH COLLAPSED ON the floor. The strength in his legs gave out and inside the shelter of the house, he let it go. Meagan ran to him and knelt beside him. “What’s wrong, Noah?” She stroked his hair as he groaned, lifting his arms above his head to protect himself from the world around him. Meagan looked up at Patrick. “What happened?” she asked. Patrick’s face was blank. He couldn’t explain it.
‘Patrick, what happened to Noah?” Meagan asked through gritted teeth.
“Honestly, I don’t know. He was alone, crying in the trees. He had his hands over his face. I didn’t see anything or anyone else around. I really don’t know what scared him.”
June brought a glass of cool water. “Oh my,” she said as she handed the glass to Meagan. “It’s for him,” she said quietly when Meagan looked at her strangely. She took the glass and held it out for Noah.
“Noah, here, have a sip of this. You need to calm down and tell us what happened.” Behind his hands, Noah started crying again.
“I’m going back out there. I need to find out what the hell happened,” Patrick said.
“No!” Noah yelled. With a red face streaked by tears, Noah shot up, almost knocking the glass from his mother’s hand. “No, Dad, don’t! They’ll get you!”
“Noah, I’m not going to let anything hurt you, and I’m not about to let this go,” Patrick said. Noah appeared pitiful, but Patrick needed to figure out what had spooked his son. You could hurt him, you could insult him, but Patrick was not about to let anything hurt his son and get away with it. He’d missed too many opportunities in the past with Noah.
“Dad, no! Please, don’t go back. They’ll get you!” Noah’s voice cracked as he pled with Patrick. Convulsions swept over the boy. Meagan held him close, trying to comfort him. “Shh, son, it’s okay,”
she said, holding his head in her hands. Gently she rocked him.
Meagan’s dad stumbled in the room. Pillow lines creased his face and his greying hair was disheveled. He wore pajama pants and an old t-shirt. “What’s going on?” he asked in a raspy voice.
“Dad,” Meagan said, “it’s Noah. Something near the trees by the creek scared him. Do you have any idea what might be out there?”
“Have you noticed any unusual animals around?” Patrick asked, as if questioning a suspect in a crime.
“Dad, it wasn’t an animal!” Noah yelled at him. Cowering under his mother’s arms so long, Patrick didn’t realize he was now looking up at him and Al.
“Shush there, dear,” Meagan said. She tried her best to soothe and calm him. Sometimes when he got upset, Noah was irrational, and they wouldn’t get any answers out of him. The best solution was to bring him off the ledge.
“Nah, I haven’t seen anything out there recently,” Al said. He scratched his head, looking around at everyone. “Well, I guess this is a strange way to say hello.”
Patrick reached out and shook his hand, “Good to see you, sir. Sorry about all this. I’m not sure what’s gotten into Noah.”
“It’s all right. I reckon something must’ve scared the boy good for him to go carrying on like that. You have a look out there yet?” he asked Patrick.
“No, I was on my way back now.”
“Let me get some clothes on and I’ll go with ya,” he said as he stretched. “I need to get some fresh air anyway.” He shot Meagan a quick glance that Patrick almost missed and turned away.
Noah lay on the floor in Meagan’s embrace, rocking back and forth. June pulled up a chair from the dining room and sat next to them. She hummed an old hymn, creating a soothing atmosphere, and soon Noah began to breathe a little slower and the crying faded.
