by Ron Hudson
Just up the road at Shelltown Obi and his assistants were also conducting several different kinds of séances, but none of them were asking that the hex be taken off, which had been implemented as the request of Fuzz. They all had heard of the possible tornado, and they were doing various renditions of chants, begging that they be spared the impact of the tornado.
At Flood’s Place, the tornado was the last thing on the minds of the revelers.
Chapter 41
It was 8 PM Saturday night. Being July, darkness was only half hour away. At Flood’s Place, things were just getting revved up for some fun and dancing, and who knows what else may have been cooked up by the rowdy patrons. The band was playing its version of Hank Williams’ “Your Cheatin Heart.” The couples on the dance floor were shoulder to shoulder. Most of the ladies had their head snuggled up close to the men when the band singer began whining the familiar, “Your cheatin heart will tell on you…”
Suddenly the band’s rhythm was overcome by a whirling sound of the wind. At first, the mostly inebriated dancers didn’t take much notice. But within a minute the noise got louder and louder. The entire building was shaking freakily. First, the bar was jerked back and forth, and the freestanding bottles and glasses on the bar were whipped to the floor.
Screams were heard mostly from the women. Someone shouted, “We are being hit by an earthquake.”
To which someone else shouted, “No, it’s a goddamn tornado.”
Earthquake…tornado…it didn’t matter, tonight, Flood’s Place was not just raising hell, they were in hell, but not the middle of it by any means compared to what was happening just up the road. The tornado continued to gain force as it passed Flood’s Place. It was as though it was an automobile being driven by a drunk driver swerving down the middle of the road. It was causing destruction on both sides to trees, and a couple of houses close to the road got a few windows broken by flying debris. It took the picnic table in front of Flood’s and swirled it around like a top.
The residents would learn later, that like Flood’s Place no one in the houses was injured. Then as the tornado got within 200 yards of New Hope Baptist Church, it veered off to the left of the highway and made a direct path toward the church and adjoining cemetery.
The first thing to go was the steeple atop the old church, defying Pastor Pink’s declaration which he often preached to the congregation, “If you accept the Lord you are as secure as the steeple on top of this church.” The steeple went spinning through the air and back to crash through the side of the building. Still in one piece, it was propelled clean through one of the windows and through a window on the opposite side of the church. The pointed top hit first. The opening left by the steeple permitted the wind to enter the building with a horrendous velocity. Within a minute, the entire church was totally demolished. Ever part of it but the foundation was swirling in the air.
Then the swirling wind centered directly over the cemetery and seemed to just sit there as if to taunt the corpses below ground. The smaller tombstones were jerked from their place at the head of the graves and slammed into the remaining few studs of the church. The velocity of the wind even turned over the larger tombstones in place. All the time debris was turning in a circle of no more than 100 feet, and the noise of the storm had increased from a lower pitch to a high almost squealing sound.
Within, two minutes the tornado had whipped out almost any evidence that there was ever a building where New Hope Baptist had conducted religious services for the past 100 years. Ironically, most of the pieces were lifted off the ground and disbursed among the trees.
Later Pastor Pink would be heard say, “Oh God you must be unhappy with how we are serving you from this flock. I promise if you get us through this, we will do better in the future.”
Ironically, the picnic table from Flood’s Place was deposited in the middle of the cemetery as though it had been intentionally set there, and was ready to be used. Little damage had been done to any other part of the community.
Almost!
Chapter 42
Strep and his family weren’t entirely free of damage from the tornado. It was close enough to their house when it went through, that they could hear the wind whirling and debris being slammed about. The only protection they had was the old house itself. All of the Strep and his family got under one of their beds when they heard the tornado sound overhead. Not a word was said until it passed and they thought they were safe.
Topop said, “well I think we just saw a “doomsday” happening. Oh my God, why couldn’t Mr. Fuzz stop it?”
“Shut up fool!” retorted Loney.
“I don’t know, but we got to take some responsibility cause we turned the hex on in the first place, in spite of him telling us he couldn’t always control it,” said Strep.
“Yes and you better hope the sheriff don’t find out what you done done,” Loney kept nagging.
“To which Strep replied, “Yes I know Missy. We gonna visit with Mr. Fuzz as soon as we can, to make sho he can stop that haint so no moe damage is caused.”
All the time in his mind he knew any further attempt to get Fuzz to remove the hex was fruitless.
After the noise had cleared, they all went to the front door to see what damage had been caused. The old ramshackle house was still standing. Apparently, it was on the edge of the storm rather than the middle of it. The front porch was the only thing damaged. In fact, it was entirely missing, and the remains were nowhere in sight.
The next morning people would find that the tornado had moved the porch along about a mile and a half and set by the road exactly in front of Flood’s Place. Those who saw it in the daylight swore that it had not been damaged at all. It was sitting almost straight up, as though by some kind of miracle. Some said it was a warning or omen of a sort in response to what the bikers had done to instill fear on Strep and his family.
As would be revealed over the next few days, the only other damage done by the tornado was the New Hope Baptist Church and some light damage to a few houses along the road.
A small group of curiosity seekers had gathered at Flood’s to discuss the tornado and socialize. Patrick started talking to first one then the other, as to how nice it would be if they could all help the people whose property had been damaged.
At first, the idea seemed to take roots, until it was realized the only real damage had been done to the church and to a lesser degree to Strep’s house. Big Al and a couple of others were heard saying, the black people got what was coming to them.
Patrick continued to create fantamines and made notes for several more chapters of his now materializing book.
Red heard the comment and replied in a more conciliatory tone than he probably had every spoken to Big Al, “Now wait a minute Al. We have all had a lot of fun with the blacks hereabout. Everybody who knows about us would expect us to react with a vengeance, just like you say. Why don’t we surprise ‘em, and do something useful one time in our lives? Overall, the Cobbs are not bad people, even though we like to have a little fun from time to time. Let’s see what we can do to help out?”
Even Tee picked up on the idea and said, “Yeah, the first thing we can do is go up there and see what kind of help the people at the church need.”
Someone else chimed in, “We got several people who know lots about the building.”
It wasn’t long before the idea of helping out the victims of the tornado started to take off as quickly as the old ideas of evil had started.
Then the word began to be passed around the community that the Cobbs and other people from Flood’s Place would gather the next morning to go to the church to do what they could to help rebuild it. In the meantime,
Big Al and several others, now on a mission together rather than fighting, got on their motorcycles and went up the road to the church site. As soon as they saw the place where the church would have come into view, it was evident that it had been utterly annihilated. Lumber was scattered for hundreds of yards all
around. Tombstones were lying in the woods and on the road, with only a few large ones remaining in the cemetery.
Pastor Pick, standing among a crowd of black people was the first to see the bikers approach. Right away, he recognized them and expected they had hostile intents. Big Al was first to walk over to the pastor and extend his hand in a friendly jester. Then Red did the same and said, “We heard about your misfortune here Pastor Pink, and we want to help you rebuild.”
In spite of the strong smell of alcohol on the breath of most of the bikers, the surprised Pastor Pink said, “God bless you, my brother. We need all the help we can get. I don’t know what we gonna do, but somehow we gonna have us a place of worship.“
“I don’t know where to begin either pastor, giving the pastor his due respect as the leader of the community, but let’s start by cleaning up and seeing what we can save out of this mess that is scattered all around,” said Red.
“Yes, yes my brother,” as Pastor Pink motioned to the group of people standing around.
“I will go back up the road and get some more people to help,” said Big Al.
It didn’t take the group long to pick up all the debris and put anything that might be re-used in a carefully arranged pile. By the next day, the word had gotten out. The community was pitching in to get New Hope Baptist Church rebuild.
Of course, it was a perfect opportunity for the politicians to move in. While they both swore, their intent was purely humanitarian, Sheriff Wilson and his opponent Skip Hanford, made a plea to the surrounding community to help the people get their place of worship back. The first thing that appeared was a 20x20 tent in the churchyard for the planners. Soon local businessmen bought several truckloads of lumber and other building materials to help with the project.
Right away, Big Al’s leadership was recognized by all the bikers, and they were ready to do anything he wanted. It wasn’t long before two more legitimate motorcycle groups in Warrenton heard that the Cobbs were heading up the project and volunteered their services. By the end of the week, a whole foundation and frame appeared for the new church.
It was announced that there would be an old-fashioned barn raising for the sides of the church to be held the week after the project began. And though Pastor Pick disapproved of it, he knew most of the Cobbs were, if not drunk, heavily inebriated. During the labor, there was always a jar of moonshine available to the regular patrons as well as the bikers to take liberal advantage of. Never the less he welcomed all people, white and black, to what he called “His flock.”
After the traditional “raising” of the walls of the church, it was time for a special celebration. The women of the community had cooked many old fashion, as well as new and innovative dishes for the affair. The meal was served on two long tables made of planks atop sawhorses. Chicken, beef, and pork cooked in many different concoctions with rice accompaniments covered the tables. There was no shortage of homemade pies and cakes of every imaginable kind.
Before the serving started, Pastor Pink delivered a long prayer thanking the Lord for the food and especially the help of those in the community for rendering this miracle. In his prayer, he made mention of the fine people of and merchants of the community for their contributions of lumber and materials for the new church. Patrick had contributed a thousand dollars in cash from the profits of Flood’s Place. He would tell Oats the next time he visited him in prison that it was necessary for advertising and good will. Pastor Pink mentioned him personally as a benefactor of a great gift of money.
It wasn’t long before the church was almost complete. A group of people was talking about the porch the tornado had taken off Strep’s house. Big Al happened to be listening and commented with a laugh, “The porch is in good condition but moved to the wrong place thanks to the tornado.”
Al, fully supported by Pastor Pink, had taken over as the unofficial project manager for the rebuilding of the church. He was enjoying his new role. If there was one thing Big Al liked more than drinking beer and moonshine, it was getting attention. His ego was over-the-top. Since the beginning of the church rebuilding, he had been lavished with accolades. Maybe it was unconscious or maybe not, but he now saw a way to continue the biker’s generosity.
“By God, we gonna put that porch back where it belongs, and do it in style. Tomorrow I want everyone to help get that porch sitting down there by Flood’s, back to where it belongs, on the front of Strep’s house.”
Red was standing by and followed the comment up, “you got it right Al. We need to let the people of this community know they can depend on one another. That porch was blow in front of Flood’s for a reason---to give us a way to help pull together.”
Chapter 43
Strep heard the motorcycles with some trucks and cars following them turn into the dirt road towards his house. Recognizing the sound of the motorcycles, he immediately thought the worse.
“Here dey come. As if da tornado wrn’t enuff, now dem biker people coming back to bother us. Lord what we gonna do? “said Loney.
Strep, angrier than ever grabbed the antique .22 pistol and ran to the door.
“I ain’t gonna put up wid it this time,” he said.
The bikers pulled up in front of the porch-less house as they did before, except this time there were behind Pastor Pink’s car leading the parade. Strep recognized it right away. He was really confused now and didn’t know what to do. But seeing the pastor’s car relieved him somewhat. He felt that even if the bikers were out to get him, the pastor would be there to help somehow.
The motorcycles lined up beside each other as they had on their harassment mission, but this time, as soon as they stopped, they turned off the engines as opposed to revving them up. The first one, Big Al, got off the bike and moved beside Pastor Pink, who had gotten out and was standing in front of Strep.
The pastor said with an excited demeanor, “Strep my brother, these God fearing men have come to help you rebuild your house. I know you and them have had some disagreements in the past, but they have recognized the error of their ways and want to help. Please Lord, tell me you are ready to accept their graciousness so we can get on with the problem at hand.”
Before Strep could say a word, Big Al said, “yes brother Strep, we know you were hit hard cause your front porch was moved all the way down the road. We got most of it in the back of the pickup here, and we intend to put it back up if that’s OK with you.”
“Lord knows we need all the help we can get, and you have been a Godsend to us poor folks. We don’t have much, but anything we got you are welcome to. Just tell me what to do,” said Strep.
It wasn’t more than a half day until the porch was reinstalled, and looked better than it did before. The roof over it had been replaced with a new covering of shiny tin, the posts at each corner were of new lumber, and a new pair of steps had been installed.
Suddenly, the porch that was threated to be burned by the bikers only a few weeks before was now an additional instrument to have the whole area united and charitable toward one another. And, as someone had said earlier, maybe it was and omen to have been moved precisely in front of Flood’s Place by the tornado
Of course, when the work was finished, Pastor Pink gathered everybody together and gave another long prayer for the benefit of those present.
Strep and Topop were so happy at what the bikers had done, they had almost forgotten the hex that started the tornado. After everyone had left Loney was the first one to mention the evil deed.
“Well Strep you and that no good Topop are in a fix now. What you gonna do bout that haint that started this whole mess? The way you spained it to me, it may still be in place,” said Loney.
“Oh my God, I don’t know. Maybe no more bad will come. Maybe the tornado and the two dead moonshine people will be nuf to satisfy what Fuzz called the Supreme Spirit,” said Topop.
Neither Strep nor Topop had ever heard Loney as upset as when she shouted, “Well you two scoundrels better get your black asses down yond
er and talk to that no good Fuzz man. Make sure he done took any hex off anybody or anything round here.”
Saying not a word, both men got in Strep’s car and took off to find Fuzz.
Again!
Chapter 44
The next morning as Caley came to work the man she saw sitting inside Nel’s the first time went there, was waiting outside her office. She remembered his heavy black beard. He appeared to be in his late 60s, or maybe even older and was wearing rubber mid-calf boots, with his pants tucked into them. He removed his baseball cap showing the logo of the Vietnam - 115th Cav, as he rose and shoved out his hand to meet Caley.
Caley noticed right away that this was the same logo that Nellis Garvant had on his hat.
“Good morning, I’m Harley Kettle, and I understand you want to talk with me.”
“Yes I do, come in,” Caley replied as she went into the interrogation room. The room was a mere ten by ten room with a small table and two chairs placed across from each other. A one-way mirror with recently installed was along one wall. A small camera mounted on the ceiling documented all conversations.
Caley really liked the recording equipment for playing back her interactions with suspects. In the case of Harley, the only advance clue she had was what Nellis had told her about his drunken mumblings. But this was a start---less significant clues had led to solving cases for her before. It was up to her to do her own evaluation at this point.
Just as she had been told, Harley was a talker. Before he even sat down, he started. “Now I know you folks are looking for who killed Homer Aiken and Henry Padgett and I want to help in any way I can. I have never been involved with a killing before, except when I was in Viet Nam.”
“Well Harley, thank you for your service to the country.”
Although she meant it as a sincere compliment, she never used it as an icebreaker before. It seemed to work just fine this time. Or, from what she had heard about Harley, maybe it wasn’t necessary to use an icebreaker at all. She was quick to pick up on Harley’s subtle emphasis that he was never involved with a killing.
