by Donnie Light
“Get out of town!” Galen said.
Audra saw the disbelief on his face. “I’m serious. The ball was supposed to have been created during this ceremony and was supposed to go after this runaway slave’s master.” She crossed her heart with her right hand and then held it up as if taking an oath of truth. “Come over here and read it for yourself if you don’t believe me!”
A look of dread had flickered through his face when he began to believe her. “Are you sure this is the right thing?” Galen asked.
“It describes the same kind of crystal ball with little spikes all over it. Sure sounds like the same thing to me,” Audra said.
Galen looked at the computer screen. Audra pointed out where she had read the things she was telling him.
“See if it says in there what the magic words are that will turn it off,” Galen said. “I’ve got to call Paxon.”
Magic spells? Galen thought. It sounded so crazy, but the thing itself defied any reasonable explanation. African religion and runaway slaves. Galen wasn’t sure what to think. It sure sounded like something that Al would have been interested in.
Galen dialed Paxon’s number. It rang three times.
“Hi, this is Paxon. I’m not here right now…”
Galen hung up the phone. “I still hate answering machines,” he said, stuffing the phone number back into his pocket. “By the time we get something to eat it’ll be time to get rolling again,” he said.
Audra looked up. “Okay,” she said. “I’m starved.”
They grudgingly loaded the computer into the back seat, both wanting to continue reading but not having the time. There was a row of fast food chains and a mini-mall just up the road. They pulled into a Wendy’s.
Audra went in for some food while Galen looked at a map. He tried to imagine where the cursed ball might be. He again calculated its course and figured it was still an hour north. He did not want to leave here too soon. If they took off now it would just veer off in whatever direction they chose to go, shortening the distance between them. It would be better to let it almost catch up then speed away again. He thought about what it would be like to try to run from this thing without the aid of the Mustang’s V-8 and realized that running on foot from this thing would be futile.
Audra returned to the car carrying a white bag and two drinks.
Galen put away the map. He glanced at the mini-mall as Audra got herself adjusted in the seat. A Radio Shack store caught his attention.
“Is a printer all you would need to get those files on paper?” he asked.
Her eyes followed his to the Radio Shack sign on the front of the store. “Worth a try,” she said. “It would give us a chance to read them as we drive.”
“My thoughts exactly,” Galen replied
A teen-aged boy greeted them immediately. He looked like the typical egghead who would know about all the stuff in the store.
“Can I help you folks?” he asked in an unstable voice.
“Do you sell computer printers?” Galen asked as he glanced around the store.
“Sure,” the kid said, “Right over here.”
He led them to one side of the store where several computer systems were on display.
“This is a nice model,” he said, stopping in front of a $1,400 price tag. “Laser printer,” he said. He began a technology-laden sales pitch.
“We were looking for something a little less expensive,” Audra said. “Just a simple dot-matrix printer would do fine.”
“Actually,” Galen said, “I don’t want to buy a printer at all. I just need to have something printed.”
The kid pushed his glasses back up on his nose.
“We’ve got a computer in the car and it has some very important information on it,” Galen started. “We just need to print the files so we can read them without the computer.”
“I don’t think we can do that,” the kid said. “I mean, yeah, it can be done, I just don’t think that I’m supposed to.”
Galen looked around the store. It was empty. “Listen, uh…”
“Randy,” the kid said, pushing his glasses up again.
“Okay, Randy. We’re from out of town and we’ve got these important files on this computer. You could say that this is a matter of life and death,” Galen said, looking at Audra to back up his story. “We need to get them printed because we’re leaving town right now.” Galen leaned over and cupped his hand around his mouth. “It’s worth an easy twenty bucks,” he whispered into the kid’s ear.
“I don’t know,” Randy said. “My boss went across the street to get some supper…” The kid thought about it for a moment, and then asked, “how much do you have to print?”
“Not much,” Audra exaggerated, “just a few files.”
“Well, okay, if we hurry.”
Galen slapped him gently on the back and headed for the car.
By the time he returned with the computer, the kid had arranged a place for it. “Don’t need the screen,” he said, “I’ll just hook up one of these,” and waved to a row of monitors.
It was only a few minutes before Randy was reading the list of files.
“Which files do you want printed?” he asked.
Twenty minutes and twenty dollars later, Galen and Audra left the Radio Shack with a stack of paper.
Audra quickly ate her burger. She grabbed the stack of papers and began sorting through them. “You know,” she said, “I’m convinced that Al was a totally un-organized person. There’s no order to any of this stuff.” She continued to sort through the printed files, separating them into groups.
“He probably just wrote the stuff down as he received it,” Galen said, defending his old friend. He had wolfed down his burger much quicker than Audra had. He still had a small smear of mustard at the corner of his mouth. “At least he wrote it all down.”
Audra grunted and shrugged her shoulders. “I’m amazed he could make heads or tails out of any of this,” she said, using the fingers on her left hand to separate the groups of paper.
They drove on a while and Audra began to read some of the information.
“The runaway slave’s name was Tobias,” she said. “And guess what?” she asked, but did not await an answer. “They chopped off his hand during the ceremony.” She shifted nervously in her seat. “That’s pretty gruesome, don’t ya’ think?”
Galen nodded, but kept quiet.
“It says after the ball-thing was created, this slave gave it to his Master as a gift. It was a part of the ritual.”
She read on for a while, gathering other tidbits of information.
She read to him about the African religion and how they believed not in one God, but many demigods. Gaston had gone into great detail in describing this information. They had believed there were many demigods living in the ‘above,’ and many more living in the ‘below.’ The gods of the ‘above’ were generous and good. The gods of the ‘below’ were evil. The Africans believed they could persuade the good gods to help them battle the evil gods by offering sacrifices.
Galen and Audra drove steadily to Moline, Illinois. It was eight-thirty in the evening. They drove through town and found a park along the banks of the Mississippi.
Galen parked the car. His eyes were burning with weariness and his back and legs were stiff from all the driving.
Audra was also very tired. She handed Galen a portion of the papers. “You can help me read for a while,” she said. “I’m so tired that the words are starting to swim around on the page.”
Galen placed his stack on the dash. “I’m gonna try to call Paxon first,” he said. “Feel like a walk?”
“No thanks,” she said. “I’ll just sit here for a while.”
Galen nodded and began to walk toward the park entrance. He had noticed a Stop-N-Go just before they pulled into the park. Galen spotted a lighted “phone” sign in the store’s parking lot. Moths spun dizzily around it. Several teen-aged boys had gathered at one end of the building and were speaking
loudly. They quieted as he passed. Galen guessed they were telling dirty jokes. He dug out his wallet and searched for the credit card he had received from AT&T. He quickly read the instructions on the back and dialed Paxon’s number, followed by several more from the credit card.
The phone rang only once before a smooth, deep voice answered.
“Hello,” the voice said.
“Mister Paxon?” Galen responded, shocked that someone had actually answered.
“Yes,” the voice answered. “This is John Paxon.”
Galen covered the phone as he cleared his throat. “Mister Paxon, this is Galen Morris. I left a message for you earlier today.”
“Yes,” he said. “I’m so sorry to hear about Professor Gaston.”
“Yeah, we all are,” Galen said, not knowing exactly who he referred to as we. “The reason I’m calling, is that before Al died, he asked me to send something to you.”
“And what might that be Mr. Morris?” the voice asked.
“Well,” Galen started, “I’m not sure what it is, but I think Al referred to it as the Eater of Hearts.”
The phone went quiet, but Galen could still hear breathing at the other end. “Mister Paxon?” Galen said.
“Yes, I’m here,” Paxon said, his voice not as smooth as before. “The only Eater of Hearts I know of is an old southern legend, folklore.”
“Yes,” Galen said. “I think we’re talking about the same thing.”
“How do you intend to send me a legend, Mr. Morris? Is it written material?”
Galen did not know how to describe what happened, so decided to just say it like it was.
“No, it’s not written material, although I have some of that too.” Galen paused for a moment before going on, fearing he was sounding like a raving idiot. “Actually, it’s a ball, made of crystal.”
“Are you saying Gaston actually found the Eater of Hearts?” Paxon asked.
“Yes. We’re trying to learn more about how and where Al got it,” Galen said. He paused and then said what he had to say. “It’s after me.”
“Excuse me?” Paxon returned.
“It’s after me, Mister Paxon. I was hoping you would know something about it.”
Paxon hesitated a moment, then said, “Mr. Morris, if this is some kind of joke, it’s in poor taste. I haven’t got the time for this sort of thing.”
“Mister Paxon, this is no joke. It’s after me and a lady friend, and it’s scaring the Hell out of us,” Galen said.
His tone of voice convinced Paxon that Galen was telling the truth, or what he believed was the truth.
“Mr. Paxon, could you tell me everything you know about the Eater of Hearts? My life may depend on it.”
Galen and Paxon exchanged information for the next forty minutes. Paxon was unsure how to take Galen’s request for help. He certainly sounded convincing. The details he told about the legend were enough to convince Paxon he had gotten Gaston’s information on the subject.
“We need your help,” Galen said.
Another moment of silence passed before the conversation resumed. “I don’t know what I can do for you,” Paxon replied. “I’m sure Gaston’s information is more complete than anything I can find here.”
Galen began to get the feeling that Paxon was not going to be much help. After a few seconds of silence, the course of the conversation changed for the better.
“Let me go to my office and dig up some records,” Paxon said. “Then we can get in touch again and compare notes.”
“How soon could you do this?” Galen asked.
“I can go now, but I’m not sure how long it will take,” Paxon replied.
Galen explained they had about four hours before they would have to leave again. Paxon gave Galen his office number and they agreed that Galen would call his office and his home as often as he could from the road.
Audra sat in the car reading and decided to turn on the radio for a little background noise. She adjusted the tuner until she received a clear signal. After a few minutes, she closed her eyes to give them a rest.
The music paused and a steely-voiced reporter began describing the day’s local events. Included was an account of a driver who had been involved in a multi-car accident. The broadcast described how one of the drivers had hit something that shattered his windshield, causing him to lose control of his car. Three people were reported dead and several others hospitalized. The radio also reported that the object had not been identified and that the police were investigating. A State Trooper was interviewed, stating that “some solid object had penetrated both front and rear windows of the car, possibly a stone or debris from the highway.”
Audra tensed at the thought it may have been the ball. If it had been, people were dead because of it. She wanted to find Galen. He had been gone for nearly an hour.
Galen returned with a couple of sodas. Audra got out of the car and took a seat on a nearby picnic table. She decided not to tell him about the news just yet. There was nothing that could be done right now. The news would worry him as much as she was now worried.
“He was in,” Galen said as he unscrewed the bottle-cap. “He’s going to look up any information he may have about the Eater of Hearts.” He took a long swallow.
“Good,” she said. “What did he know about it?”
“Not much, but he had discussed it with Al several times. He had also met Al in Georgia to interview people about it.”
They discussed what the other had found out in the last hour and got back into the car. They needed gas again. Galen didn’t want to be surprised by the ball with an empty tank.
They drove through town looking for a northbound highway. Audra drove while Galen consulted the map. They picked up highway 26 and drove to the edge of town. After filling the car with gas they drove to a small rest stop and parked the car. Galen volunteered for watch duty, while Audra tried to get whatever sleep she could.
Galen leaned on the hood of the car and lit a cigarette. Traffic moved by on the highway, headlights approaching from the left, and receding taillights to the right. The rest-stop was no more than a blacktop loop coming off the main highway with a few picnic tables and restrooms. A couple of semi-trucks, engines still idling, were pulled off the road as their drivers caught some sleep.
Galen looked at his watch, keeping track of how much time before the ball might appear again.
It was ten o’clock. Another two hours and they would drive north to Freeport and wait again.
The time went by agonizingly slow. Galen divided it up by alternately reading Al’s files, smoking cigarettes and walking around the car.
At eleven-thirty, Galen decided they should drive to the next phone and call Paxon.
About ten minutes up the road Galen spotted a bar just off the highway and asked Audra to pull in and see if they had a phone. It was a small place with a neon sign in each of the four front windows, each advertising a different brew. The building looked old and cheap, constructed mostly of cement blocks.
About six men sat at the bar and a few people were scattered among the booths along the far wall. Country music played on a jukebox and a couple boogied on the small dance floor.
Galen noticed a pay phone on the dark paneled wall between two beer signs. He picked up the receiver.
Audra sat at a nearby table.
A man sat alone in a booth opposite Audra. He stared at her through drunken eyes, singing loudly along with the blaring jukebox. He lifted a beer bottle to his lips but kept his eyes on the well-built woman who had just walked in.
Galen could not reach Paxon at home so he tried the other number. Paxon answered on the first ring.
“Mr. Morris?” he asked.
“Yeah, please call me Galen.”
“Okay, Galen. I’ve found some records, mostly dealing with the religious aspects of the legend. I was just gathering up some of these papers to take home with me, so I can continue my research there.”
As he listened to Paxon talk, Galen
noticed the singing drunk wobble across the room to where Audra sat. The man began to talk to her, and he saw her smile nervously as she shook her head.
The man took her by the arm. He was trying to coax her onto the dance floor.
Audra resisted, but started talking to him. “I don’t want to dance right now. Maybe later,” she said, knowing she would soon be gone.
“Aw, c’mon!” the man said, “jus’ one little dance.” He grabbed her by the arm again and tried lifting her from the booth. The people sitting at the bar turned to watch the man. A couple of them smiled and began to talk amongst themselves.
A Willie Nelson song began to play on the jukebox.
“Now you jus’ gotta dance when Willie sings!” the drunk said. He forcefully pulled Audra from her seat and dragged her onto the floor.
Audra drug her feet, but was no match for the drunk’s strength.
Galen quickly asked Paxon to hang on and dropped the phone. He ran to the dance floor, grabbing the man by the shoulder and spinning him around. “She doesn’t want to dance,” Galen shouted over the music as he placed himself between the drunk and Audra.
The lean, muscular drunk glared at Galen with glassy eyes. He wore faded jeans and a sleeveless t-shirt. His tan-colored leather work boots were covered with blotches of dried cement. He had a short growth of beard and a tattoo of a skull on his upper arm. The drunk backed off a step.
“Jus’ wanna dance with ’er,” he said. He tipped back and drained the bottle he was holding.
The men at the bar watched and began to chuckle.
The drunk walked back over to his booth and searched the empty bottles for one with a swallow left in it. He sat there for a moment with a mean look on his face. He continued to glance at Audra.
Audra followed Galen back to the phone.
“Mr. Paxon?”
“What’s going on there?” Paxon asked.
“I’m calling from a bar,” Galen explained. “Things just got a little crazy for a minute.”
Both Galen and Audra’s eyes followed the drunk as he walked to the back of the room. He disappeared into what they thought must have been the restroom.
Paxon promised to go back home and read up on the information he had gathered. Galen was to call again, if possible, in a couple of hours.
