by K C Norrie
"Why do the people of Settlers Way not remain in their final resting state upon death as we have come to expect? What is different?
"The answer was obvious. We drink a tea that keeps us in a state of optimism. Whenever we present with any symptoms of illness or injury, we consume a syrup with extraordinary healing powers.
"So now, I have my answer.
"What we are experiencing is an adverse reaction to either our tea or our elixir. Or a combination of both. We are dealing with mere after-effects, not a foreboding of the end of the world. Whatever component is contained in our tea and our syrup that keeps us feeling so well in life, continues on after our death, assuring our continued survival. Our red tea or our syrup or a combination of the two, is attempting to cure death.
"Therefore, our decision is merely this:
"Does the benefit of being healthy in mind and body during our lifetime, outweigh the consequence of being awoken from our death as a frightening and dangerous being?
"If we decide on yes; we have already heard the solution from the witnesses.
"A blow to the head. Burn the body before it can rise.
"The End."
Dr. Ashton sat down.
Sighs of relief. Nodding of heads. People were calmer now. Accepting even. Things were not as bad as originally thought. It was not the end. It was still the beginning.
Pastor Logan led another prayer. A little prayer. Joe Parker was answering questions. Little questions. Quiet conversations were taking place throughout the seated crowd. Little conversations.
"Mr. Parker, do you think anyone we already buried came back alive in their coffin?"
A big question.
It created an equal and opposite reaction.
Chapter 13
"At least they waited until morning," thought Seth as he refilled another grave with the shovel.
There were those who did not want to wait; those who wanted to leave the meeting and go directly to the cemetery. They were talked down by the town leaders, Pastor Logan, Joe Parker, Dr. Ashton, and even Seth McMahon. The meeting was adjourned, and the people ordered to go home. Those who wanted to help would meet in the morning with shovels in hand, at the cemetery. The meeting would reconvene sometime after that depending on what they found.
Seth had lain awake, most of the night. He hadn't shared his story about baby Mason. He chose to keep quiet. No matter how he tried, his story just didn't fit in with the rest. He thought about what Pastor Logan said, then about what Dr. Ashton had explained, and he very much wanted to believe them both; but it always came down to the people on the mountain. Who were they?
By the time Seth showed up with his shovel, people had already begun digging up the graves. Settlers Way had been a community for nearly twenty years now. There had only been a few deaths each year. Less than sixty graves. They decided to check them all.
****
They called them deathlings.
Seth looked around at the guns ready to shoot the heads off the deathlings.
"Got one!"
A grave dug fourteen years ago. You could hear something moving in the box as they brought it up. Seth ran over to help pull the nails. He gazed at the remains of one Theodore Hopkins. A man he remembered falling out of a tree trying to bring down his cat. It unsettled him thinking of Theodore trapped in the coffin all these years.
But it's not Theodore. It's a deathling.
The diggers yelled "Ready!" and stood back using coffin lids as shields. Five men stood with their faces covered in sweat that had nothing to do with exertion or the temperature of the day. Five men plus most of the community watched as the deathling emerged from its wooden prison and stood up.
"BAM!" another explosion and more gore.
They didn't rebury it. Instead, they carried the wooden casket with its deathling inside all the way to a waiting bonfire.
Seth and Charlie Waters filled the empty graves with dirt while Gordon Graham replaced the headstone. Ralph and Amos began digging into the next plot.
Most every grave held a deathling from as far back as the latter part of that first year. They only found two traditional dead bodies from persons who weren't here long. Seth wondered why they never noticed the problem before. Dr. Ashton who dug beside him said, perhaps it took longer for the change to take place at the beginning.
The men became seasoned as freeing the deathlings and re-killing them became routine. They didn't even need the guns anymore. They used the hammers or shovels. Coffin after coffin was opened, and the thing was killed before tossing the whole thing into the fire. No one could bear the thought of burning the things while still alive. Joe Parker watched carefully to be sure no one got careless. No one did. No one dared. "The end" was on their minds the entire time.
The last grave to dig up was for the little baby Mason. Seth tried not to look. When Ralph and Amos realized there was nothing there, and confusion crossed everyone's face, it was Seth himself who suggested, that Abbie and Elijah had perhaps brought the little coffin with them when they ran away back to Highview.
People nodded and agreed. It made sense. Whatever else could have happened?
The lie he had created the night before, when he couldn't sleep slipped easily off his tongue. What have I become? thought Seth. What have we all become?
****
Another town hall. An agenda was pinned up. Plans were written on the spot and people voted on them as they became ready. A variety of citizens stood up and said their piece.
At the end it was left up to the individual families whether to give up the tea or the syrup. The more important topic was the process and procedure to follow when someone died. There could be no room for error.
It was agreed that if the process was followed as laid out, they would have time to do things properly. From the witness accounts, it seemed eight hours was long enough.
Dying in your sleep like Otis was a rare thing. Married couples were to check on their spouses during the night whenever possible. It was theorized that Otis may have been not feeling well and gone to bed early. Cora may have gone to bed without ever noticing his passing.
A missing person was a danger that could not be ignored. An alarm of five tolls was to be sounded, every hour until the person was found.
When someone died, they could use any one of the three church bells to toll three times. The body was to be set aflame before the person could regenerate itself. There was a stone building where an enormous fireplace would be erected for that purpose, though the burning could be done anywhere if needed.
The funeral service would include a pine box containing the person's ashes. The box would be buried in the cemetery with a traditional headstone.
The first time the three-toll signal emanated throughout Settlers Way, a fright shuddered throughout the community right along with it. They could not fail.
Everyone took their places as they wondered who had died.
Seth hurried off to help prepare the pyre. Brie began to bake pies, one for the gathering that would take place afterward, and one for the family of the deceased. The community had practiced for this event and it paid off. The ceremony for Zeke Perkins was performed flawlessly. Zeke stayed dead until there was nothing left but ashes.
Over the years people began adding things to the ashes in the coffins. It became a tradition to add the person's bible and a pair of the deceased's shoes to represent his or her journey on earth. Some liked to add flowers and such.
Should grave robbers ever visit the cemetery in Settlers Way, they would leave disappointed, finding mostly bibles and worn shoes, and some dried flowers and maybe a handwritten poem. But for about sixty or so graves, the robbers would leave entirely empty-handed, finding nothing but earth beneath the gravestones.
Chapter 14
Seth never thought of leaving Settlers Way anymore. He was older now and more accepting of the flaws of life. He was in the cemetery tending to the small grave of Baby Mason. There was no one else to tend it.
When "The End" came to Zeke, no one knew much about him. He kept to himself. The town owed Zeke a debt of gratitude that Seth wasn't sure was ever given. For his own part, Seth regretted not seeking him out extending a friendship; at least as much as Zeke would allow.
As he turned to leave the cemetery, he noticed fifteen-year-old Molly Richards tending to her father's grave, dead three years now. He waved to her, but she didn't notice. She was too intent on her task at hand.
****
Molly stood back to examine the work she had done on her father's gravesite, even though she knew that there was nothing in the coffin below but an old shirt and some boots. She had pruned the rose bush to expose the thorns and the red roses leaned too much on one side making it lopsided. Daddy would never approve, she thought. He would have pulled it out by the roots by now and tossed into the brush pile.
"Just right," she thought. She pulled a few weeds and poured water on the stinging nettle she had placed next to the foot of the headstone. It grew wild, but she carefully transplanted them here and hoped they would flourish in this new place on her father's grave. She hoped the nettles and thorns hurt him, wherever he was, as they touched his name on the gravestone.
Her mother never came here to see. Neither did her little brothers Clem and Derry. Molly came often. Sometimes she came to say she was sorry, but mostly she came to say she was glad he was dead.
It was she who killed him. She had prayed so hard for his death that he died.
She hated him. She knew it was wrong, but she hated him anyway. For beating her and her mother with a stick whenever he felt like it. For throwing little Derry across the room that day because he was too noisy and not letting her mother give him the syrup or call Dr. Ashton. To this day, Derry still walked with a slight limp.
Life without her father was better now. There was nothing to fear. They didn't have to live so carefully. It was okay to laugh. They were allowed to go to the school with the other kids. Mr. Parker was teaching the boys to take care of their little farm and her mother smiled every day.
But still there was the guilt. "Thou shalt not kill," was one of the commandments. A commandment was an order issued directly from God himself. She had approached Pastor Logan one day and confessed what she had done. He didn't believe her. He told her that a prayer could not kill.
"God would never allow that," he had explained gently to her. "Your father was killed by a wild boar. It was an accident. Nothing to do with you."
And she couldn't properly explain to the Pastor, the feeling that had come over her that morning as she prayed out in the field shortly after her father had left to go hunting.
Earlier that morning before he left, she reached across the kitchen table for a biscuit and accidently upset her water cup, spilling water across the tablecloth. Her father slapped her so hard across the face that it went numb. She stood perfectly still afterward because he was worse when she cried. He coldly instructed her to cut a switch from the yard and have it ready when he came back. After he left, her mother hugged her and told her to not be afraid.
Molly had run out to field and got down on her knees. She faced the mountain where her father hunted.
"Dear God, please let him die. He is a bad man. Please let him die. The world would be a much better place without him in it. He is not a lamb like you think. He doesn't even come to church. Thank you, God. Amen."
And then she had felt something; something powerful reaching out to assure her, and she knew in that moment that her prayer had been heard. A feeling of fright took over. She should have taken the wicked prayer back right away, but she didn't. She didn't want to be switched, so she left things be. All throughout the day she lived with the horror of what she had done. Throughout the evening meal when he did not return, she filled with dread. After her mother sent her to bed, she prayed for forgiveness for what she had done.
But when she heard the noise in the backyard, and thought it was her father coming home after all, what had she felt then?
Relief that she was not a murderess? Sorrow that things were not to change for her family after all? Dread of the scene she could imagine was about to unfold when her father opened the door and asked for the switch?
She couldn't remember. Every thought had fled when she saw what her mother's lantern light illuminated. She rushed down the stairs and out the door to protect her mother.
He's come for me not her. It was me who killed him, and he wants revenge.
She reached her mother as the rock came down on his head.
Chapter 15
The group that left to find gold, traveled quickly away from Settlers Way, and stopped near Los Angeles. They spread the word of what they had seen to anyone who would listen. Those who heard the bizarre tales from the gold-searchers repeated the story to others who passed them on in turn.
"… the earth opened up and demons began crawling out…"
"… they paint their barns with blood…"
"… they sacrifice humans to grow a plant that makes a blood red tea…"
"… they have haints that walk in the night…"
"… the mountain is haunted. I seen lights…"
"… they drink blood…"
"… they can raise the dead…"
"… thirteen people just disappeared one evening while eating their supper. Thirteen places were set, thirteen meals with just a few bites taken. The wagons and horses still in the barn. The whole family gone. Never seen again. Just that one spot of blood on the floor…"
****
In the coming years Settlers Way was avoided. It was out of the way and too far from the main trail. Some groups came anyway but were not welcomed. They were not met with hostility, but with indifference and exclusion. Most moved on after a brief time. Those who stayed long enough were eventually brought into the community and stayed despite the bizarre funeral customs; because of the tea; because of the syrup; or because here they felt hidden and protected from evil; but mostly because they believed something was about to happen and they wanted to be a part of it.
Magic or Science?
Magical spells have nothing to do with the stars or the moon or the time of the day; but if you say the right words just so, magic can happen.
I'm sorry, is a powerful magical spell. Unfortunately, it has limited value and weakens each time you say it.
Spells containing words of praise, build strength.
Watch out! can ward off disaster.
I believe, strengthens hope.
I can, is an enormously powerful spell, while You can, may produce only minimal results.
What if? is a phrase to be used with utmost caution. Spells that begin with What if? have the potential to change the entire world as we know it.
Dr. Natalie Zeller (Cultural Anthropologist)
Introduction for "Magic or Science?"
Sometimes we laughed until we cried and called it fun. But mostly we cried until we laughed and called it life. ~The Book of Answers
Saint Ange, France
1841
Chapter 16
Gabel could not do magic. He only saw things a little better than everyone else. He saw colors around people and places that no one else could see.
He knew when his father was angry and when his mother was sad. He knew when someone was ill. He knew when women were pregnant. He knew when someone was about to die.
When he was younger, he thought everyone could do this. When he found out he was the only one who could see t
hese things, he kept all his findings to himself. It was his mother who told him to do so.
"You will scare people," she told him. "People aren't meant to know such things."
Young Gabel thought he frightened his parents too.
They were ordinary people. They owned a small farm and sold and traded what they could in Saint Ange on market days. Saint Ange was only a few hours away and market days were held twice a week during the warm weather. They would travel into the little town on a cart led by one of their two horses, set up their stall, and sell his mother's hot meat pies and fresh vegetables from his father's garden. Gabel would sit quietly on a stool and watch the colorful people walk by.
He kept his silence when his father appeared at breakfast one morning shrouded in black death. Gabel was heart struck with fear and sadness and refused to leave his father's side. He hugged him fiercely that night as his mother watched him curiously and fear touched her colors, but she too kept her silence. She didn't ask.
On the third day, Gabel's father walked out to the barn to feed the horses and Gabel followed, though he hadn't finished breakfast. Gabel's mother, who knew something was wrong by Gabel's odd behavior followed along. And so, when Monsieur Russo Reynoldo's heart failed that morning, both his wife and son were beside him to give comfort and tell him, they loved him as his soul left the earth.
Gabel barely remembered the funeral; just sorrow that lasted for days and days. He didn't remember even speaking for all those days. One morning his mother told him, "We will have to sell the farm."
Gabel looked up at her and said. "But where will we go?"
At his mother's shrug, he woke up from his sorrow. This was home; he didn't want to lose it too. There was nowhere else to go. He looked around and began to catch up his father's chores. Gabel was barely sixteen and small for his age, but he stepped into a man's shoes that day and never faltered. He made plans for their future as he lay in bed that night.
