Deadlight Jack

by Mark Onspaugh

  They stood and walked away.

  Ambrose Duvalier called after them, “You will never find what you lost without my help!”

  George laughed. “That’s an old carny grift, kid. Good luck.”

  They walked past the goth girl, who frowned at them. Jimmy figured they had made twenty dollars for two minutes. That wasn’t bad.

  But now they were back where they started, bereft of vital information.

  They exited the store. The rude kid who had been chased out of the botanica was munching on a beignet, his mouth and shirt covered with powdered sugar. He saw them and stuffed the last of the pastry in a greasy white bag.

  He walked up to them. “That guy give you what you need?”

  They looked at the kid. He was only ten or so, but there was something off about him.

  “The guy was full of shit,” George said.

  The kid laughed, delighted. “That’s for sure! He’s more full of manure than a cow pasture!”

  Both of the old men smiled at that. The kid was…interesting.

  “Do you know someone who might help us?” Jimmy asked.

  “I might,” said the kid. “Let me see your palms.”

  George hesitated, but Jimmy held his out. When the kid spit in it, he didn’t flinch. He was picking up a vibe here. Something real and deeply dark.

  The kid nodded. He looked at George.

  “You gotta spit on me, too, boy?” George asked while Jimmy wiped his hand on his jeans.

  The kid shrugged. George sighed and held out his hand, and the kid held it and spit. After a long moment, he looked at George.

  “Sorry, granddad. I didn’t know.”

  “Know what?” George asked, the hairs on his neck standing up.

  The boy just looked at him.

  He knows, George thought, Jesus Christ, he knows.

  “Can you help us?” Jimmy asked.

  “Not me,” the kid said, “the Swamp Witch.”

  “How much?” George asked.

  “I don’t want no money,” said the kid indignantly. “But the captain’s gonna need money for gas.”

  “Captain?”

  “Y’all can’t swim the Atchafalaya, ’specially at night,” said the kid. “Come on.”

  The kid led them to their rental car. There was a chance he had seen them arrive, but Jimmy was pretty sure he just knew.

  They opened the car and the kid jumped in the back.

  George got behind the wheel, Jimmy in the front passenger seat.

  “Where to?” George asked.

  “Go straight until you hit Ray Moffat Boulevard, then turn left.”

  They drove down the street, past La Recherche.

  The kid leaned forward, resting his elbows on the bench seat between them. “George, you can go faster. Jimmy, put on some music—maybe some sixties? That would be cool.”

  They both glanced back at the kid, who had never been told their names. He smiled knowingly and pulled another donut out of the bag.

  “Anybody want a beignet?”

  Chapter 19

  ATCHAFALAYA SWAMP, LOUISIANA

  They drove for nearly thirty minutes, taking a circuitous route out of town down to an ancient pier called Thurman’s Landing. Some of the pilings were white with bird droppings, but the planks were largely in good repair. A number of small fishing boats were tied up there, as well as a battered airboat called Miss Jennifer. A wooden sign proclaimed:

  CAPTAIN DAR’S BAYOU TOURS & CHARTERS

  EXPLORE THE MYSTERIES OF THE ATCHAFALAYA SWAMP!

  GATORS! SNAKES! STRANGE CREATURES & LEGENDS!

  ALL ABOARD MISS JENNIFER, SEEN IN THE MOVIE SWAMP MONSTER!

  CAPTAIN DARWIN WINGATE, PROPRIETOR

  Captain Dar was sitting on a lawn chair facing away from them, drinking a beer and watching the sunset. He turned when he heard them coming. He was a grizzled and portly black man with gray hair and a beard. He wore khakis and an old Orioles baseball cap. He brightened when he saw the kid.

  “Hey, Henry Johnson! You bring me a good charter today?”

  “Just these two,” said the kid.

  Captain Dar made an exasperated sound and waved them off. “Not worth the gas for two and you know it.”

  They drew closer, the boards swaying and creaking under them.

  “They need to see her,” the kid said. Captain Dar looked at him, then at George and Jimmy, and nodded.

  “Fifty bucks,” he said, then added, “for the gas and such.”

  “What are you burning, jet fuel?” George groused, but got out his wallet and handed the man two twenties and a ten.

  “Could be a tour of twenty people come while I’m messin’ with you two. Besides, man’s gotta eat,” Captain Dar said, shrugging.

  “You might want to lay off the beignets and bacon,” George said, and the kid laughed.

  Captain Dar looked at the kid and nodded to George. “This one’s got a real mouth on him, Henry.”

  “He’s all right,” the kid said, and jumped on the airboat, taking the front seat for himself.

  “Henry, you undo them ropes, y’hear?”

  The kid saluted in as smart-ass a way as possible but hopped nimbly onto the dock.

  George and Jimmy took their seats near the front while Captain Dar hauled himself up into a high chair in front of the prop cage. The kid untied the mooring lines and tossed them aboard, then leaped onto the boat as Captain Dar fired up Miss Jennifer and they moved away from the dock.

  Chapter 20

  PORT ALLEN, LOUISIANA, AND POINTS NORTH

  As George and Jimmy were making their way through the bayou, Delphine was trying to convince Trudy to bring Melissa to dinner with the family. Trudy had slipped out of the room, and Delphine had caught her at the ice machine.

  “We’re both worn-out,” Trudy said. “I think we may just have something delivered and make an early night of it.”

  “I could pick up some things at the market,” Delphine offered, “cook it up for you. You two need some home cooking.”

  Trudy smiled. “That’s very kind of you, Delphine. Even if you bought a hot plate or a camp stove, I doubt the good people of the Comfort Suites would be happy about you frying fish or making grits.”

  “They’ve never had to contend with Delphine Madeline Watters,” Delphine said.

  “That is certainly true.” Trudy took Delphine’s hand in hers. “Melissa is barely holding on at the moment, Del—she needs to talk to Cal and rest.”

  “She needs her family,” Delphine insisted.

  “I am her family,” Trudy said, “and so is our son Cal.”

  Delphine was stung by that remark but saw the truth in it. “Of course. I’m sorry. Please let me know if there’s anything I can do.” Delphine looked at her, a bit of George’s twinkle in her eye. “Even if it’s just to deliver a pizza.”

  Trudy smiled and the two women hugged.

  In their room, Melissa was lying on the bed, dressed in old gym shorts and a tee shirt. The lighting was very dim.

  “Sorry,” Trudy said softly.

  “Let me guess,” Melissa said. “You got waylaid by my sister.”

  “She really wants you to come to dinner.”

  Melissa sighed.

  “Don’t fret. I told her you really needed to talk to Cal and get some rest.”

  “Thank you…was she pissed?”

  “Disappointed. She wanted to cook us dinner…Maybe just you. I wasn’t sure I was invited.” Trudy got a hand towel and wrapped some of the ice in it.

  “What is she going to do, commandeer the diner?”

  Trudy laughed. “I think she was thinking of buying a camp stove and pots and pans.”

  “Oh, Lord,” Melissa said.

  Trudy sat next to her on the bed and offered her the makeshift ice pack. “Here, take this.”

  Melissa took the white terry-cloth bundle and pressed it to her forehead. She sighed with pleasure. “Thank you,” she whispered.

  “You wan
t to talk to Cal?” Trudy asked.

  Melissa nodded. “Let’s not lie, but let’s…”

  “Be upbeat,” Trudy finished.

  Melissa nodded, but she was already teary.

  Trudy leaned over and kissed her softly, and Melissa returned the kiss as a tear spilled down her cheek.

  “You want me to talk to him?” Trudy asked.

  Melissa shook her head. “I need to hear his voice.”

  Trudy nodded and retrieved her cell from the nightstand. She dialed and waited. “Hi, Keith…No, nothing yet…She’s doing about as well as can be expected. Is Cal still up?”

  Cal came on the line. His voice cracked a little, and Trudy realized with some sorrow that he was growing up.

  “Hi, Mom. Did they find him?”

  “Not yet, baby.”

  Cal sniffed. When he spoke, she could tell he was trying to be brave for her and not cry. “I bet they will soon. He’s a little pest, but he’s strong.”

  “You got that right,” Trudy said, her own eyes welling up. “Do you want to talk to Mel-Mom?”

  “I do. I love you, Tru-Mom.” It was what Cal had called her since he could talk, and it was almost eerie that it was biologically accurate. Donny, who wanted to be just like his big brother, had adopted the nicknames as well.

  “I love you, too, Cal. Here’s your Mel-Mom.”

  Melissa handed the ice pack to Trudy as she took the phone. Trudy got up and put it in the bathroom sink.

  “Is this my Calvinator?”

  “Hi, Mom. Are you okay?”

  “Oh, I’m worried about your brother, you know.”

  “Me, too. But I told Tru-Mom he’s strong…and stubborn. He’ll be okay.” His voice broke at the end of his proclamation and he said, in a voice very much younger and choked with emotion, “Mommy, do you think he will be okay—I mean really?”

  “I do,” Melissa said. “Are you saying your prayers?”

  “Every day, more than just nighttime. Is Grandpa there?”

  “He is. Do you…do you remember him?”

  “A little. Always wore a hat?”

  “That’s right. My dad always wears a hat.”

  “He made me laugh,” Cal said.

  “He’s good at that,” Melissa said although, they hadn’t seen much of their father’s trademarked sense of humor in some time. “Are you being good for your dad, Cal? Doing your summer reading program?”

  “Yes, ma’am. I’m halfway through The Count of Monte Cristo.”

  “Wow, that’s a grown-up book.”

  “It’s cool, I like it.”

  “Well, tell us about it when we see you.”

  “You and Tru-Mom and Donny, you mean.”

  “I do, I surely do.”

  “I will. I love you, Mom.”

  “I love you, too, Calvinator.”

  “Mom,” he said in that long, drawn-out way to show annoyance.

  “You’re not my Calvinator anymore?”

  “I guess I am, just don’t say it in front of anyone.”

  “Especially girls, right?”

  “Mom!” he replied, and she laughed.

  They said their goodbyes and she hung up. Trudy looked at her.

  “He’s growing up,” Melissa said.

  Trudy nodded. “Scary, right? And sad.”

  Melissa shook her head. “Wasn’t he in diapers just a year or two ago? God, we’re such a cliché.”

  “Us? Never!” Trudy kissed her, and Melissa responded with an ardent urgency. “I thought you had a headache,” Trudy said, smiling.

  “I just want to lose myself in you…Is that wrong?”

  Trudy shook her head. They slipped out of their clothes and sought each other’s warmth, and, for a while, the world was soft and warm and safe.

  —

  At the Green Water Convalescent Home, Coraline Watters watched a game show from the sixties. The nurses had found that old broadcasts from this period seemed to have a calming effect on the old woman, who had been greatly agitated after the visit from her estranged nephew.

  Gene Rayburn was asking the contestants to fill in a blank about something. There was a lot of clowning and laughter, and Coraline liked that. She couldn’t follow many of the jokes, but she was sure she knew the people. Sometimes she got a little confused and thought the television was a window, and that the people she was seeing were her neighbors.

  That fellow with the glasses and the big scarf, didn’t she go to high school with him? And that girl with the big smile and too much rouge, hadn’t she been his girlfriend the cheerleader?

  Well, they were all happy and that made her feel good. Here they were in her home having a good time.

  Where was that husband of hers? He was supposed to get some more ice and pick up another cake at Dolan’s Bakery.

  She became aware of someone behind her and thought her husband, Nathan, might be sneaking up on her.

  She turned, giggling, sounding much like the young girl she thought she was.

  The man in the top hat bowed low.

  “Evenin’, Miss Coraline,” he said.

  She shrank back in her chair as he wagged a finger.

  “You were going to tell your nephew secrets about me. I can’t have that.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said, wondering what she had done.

  “Too late, he’s going to come back. I could sew up your mouth, but then folks would wonder how that happened and undo all my hard work.”

  Coraline had one clear thought, a thought that burned through the fog of memory and years lost: GET OUT.

  She scrambled out of her chair and fell to the floor, landing on her side and cracking three ribs. She began to whimper but still scrabbled away from Professor Foxfire.

  “Now, now,” he said congenially, “no need to be like that, Coraline! I am extending an invitation to be my guest in the Atchafalaya from now on.”

  Coraline began to crawl under the bed, her mind a riot of childhood memories—hiding from the monsters that roamed her nightmares, where the only safety was under her bed, with her teddy.

  She couldn’t see her bear, but maybe he was already under the bed. She wormed her way in, her injured ribs shrieking in protest.

  Suddenly, a white-hot pain shot up her left calf, and she screamed into her sleeve, lest the monster hear her and know where she was.

  Professor Foxfire, using an ancient gaff, had hooked the old woman through the meat of her calf and now hauled her toward him.

  Coraline screamed, though her vocal cords quickly gave out.

  “Just you and me, cher,” he said with mock tenderness as he pulled her into the darkness that enveloped one end of the room.

  When the orderlies came, they found nothing but a few drops of blood near the foot of the bed.

  Chapter 21

  ATCHAFALAYA SWAMP, LOUISIANA

  The airboat Miss Jennifer moved deeper into the bayou as Captain Dar navigated with confidence and a sure hand.

  The kid said little, though he would sometimes point out a poisonous plant or rare bird.

  He seemed to know a lot.

  Jimmy had never been so far out of his element, except, perhaps, when he had been in Los Angeles.

  The towns here were much like towns everywhere, with diners and gas stations and bars. But the bayou was a step back in time—a very big step. Some said his ancestors had come over the Bering Strait from Asia thousands of years ago. He was used to snow and ice, pines and cedar in a frigid climate.

  But this! It was like a place where man didn’t exist, where it was still the Age of Reptiles and everything was growing and breeding, dying and rotting, all of it in a thick morass that filled his nostrils with the stink of too much green, too much decay.

  Was it any wonder his gods were not here? Oh, there were ravens here, but not Raven. Just inquisitive, hungry birds with no words of guidance for him.

  And he ached! He had thought the heat might benefit him, a sort of sauna treatment, but he felt like his joints
were constantly grinding together in a mixture of grit and fire and ground glass. It was all he could do not to cry out at times, but he didn’t want to alarm George.

  George’s thoughts were far away. He was still parsing the knowledge that he was born in Louisiana, not Georgia. He wasn’t sure this place would ever seem like home, not like Georgia, but he wondered how much else he had forgotten.

  Or misremembered.

  He had begun having dreams of working in Sweety’s Ice Cream Parlor with his younger brother Louis and their uncle Nicholas.

  And they were not pleasant dreams.

  How could that be? He was so good to us.

  Then why did you leave?

  And why did they leave Green Water so precipitously?

  He felt like that dark room in his memory was becoming more and more crowded, that at any moment now the door would burst open and a wealth of memory might spill into his conscious mind, a load so baleful, so frightening, that he might not keep his sanity.

  He wished they had never called him to come down, that he was still passing his days in Lake Nisqually in blissful ignorance.

  But Donny called to you, you old coward.

  That was just a dream! he countered, but he knew that wasn’t true.

  His reverie was interrupted by the airboat’s slowing to a stop and bumping against a dock with rotted pilings. The kid jumped out and tied the mooring lines, then picked up an old kerosene lantern hanging from one of the taller pilings. He produced a wooden match from his pocket and flicked it alight on his teeth. Soon he was in a sphere of warm, yellow light. He flicked the match and they could hear it hiss as it hit the water.

  “We’re here,” Captain Dar grunted.

  The kid smirked and Captain Dar glared at him and spit in the water. “Insolent pup,” he said.

  The kid laughed and made a barking noise that sounded eerily like a little dog.

  Captain Dar climbed down from his seat. “Mind the planks, some is rotted clean through.”

  The three adults followed the kid, who picked his way nonchalantly but slowly, so they could imitate his steps. The captain, bringing up the rear with a second lantern, seemed to know his way as well.

  Far back in the trees was an ancient shack, almost completely covered in Spanish moss. A golden light spilled from the window, and smoke wound up from an old tin smokestack.