by Aiden James
“‘I hope it lasts, too!’ Grandpa told him. ‘I’m glad you believe Jack’s story, Jeremy, and like I said last night, I have a tale of my own that should support his account.’
“‘I’m looking forward to hearing it,’ said Jeremy. ‘I hope you can clear up the last few questions I have about all of this.’
“‘Tonight I’ll tell you everything you’re interested in finding out about, as long as it deals directly with the subject at hand. In the meantime, I’m hungry,’ said Grandpa. ‘How about some bacon and eggs, son? Or, maybe some flapjacks instead?’
“‘Anything’s fine with me,’ said Jeremy. ‘Want me to wake up Jack?’
“‘No, son,’ Grandpa advised, moving over to the cupboard and refrigerator to get the necessary items to cook breakfast. ‘Let him sleep a while longer. Another hour or two should be plenty, I reckon. If he doesn’t wake up on his own, we’ll get him up at nine-thirty. How’s that for a plan?’
“‘I’m cool with it,’ my brother agreed. ‘When will we check out the place Jack went to yesterday, or is that still the plan today?’
“‘Just before lunchtime. I’ll pack us a decent meal to take along. Sound all right to you?’
“‘Sounds good.’
“Grandpa finished preparing breakfast. After they ate, Jeremy went upstairs to get ready for the day. I continued to sleep soundly, and neither one disturbed me until nine-thirty rolled around.
“‘Hey Jack! Wake up!! Wake u—well, look who’s awake, Grandpa! Finally!!’ chided Jeremy. ‘We thought you might sleep all day, Sleeping Beauty!’
“He stood over me, his smile amused.
“‘Well?? Get up, Jackie boy! Cereal’s on the table and your clothes are laid out on the sofa!’
“I sat up and stretched, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. Then I stood up and staggered to the bathroom. It seemed like every muscle in my body screamed for relief. At least I wasn’t as tired as I thought I’d be. When I reached the kitchen, I plopped down into my chair before the row of cereal boxes, slowly pouring myself some corn flakes and milk in a bowl set out for me.
“‘Good morning, Jack! Looks like you finally got a good night’s rest, though I can see you’re still a little sore,’ Grandpa said. He gave me a wink and a warm smile. ‘I’m packing a lunch for our little trip today, so I’ll be busy by the stove if you need me for anything.’
“He looked happier than usual, so I figured he really looked forward to this. After I finished eating, I got myself ready for the day, wishing the whole time we could postpone the trip.
“‘Meet me on the front porch, boys!’ Grandpa called out to us from the kitchen. ‘We should be ready to go in just a few minutes!’
“I had gone upstairs and was on my way down to the foyer. Jeremy waited by the front door, smiling smugly as he watched my final descent. He held an unlit cigarette in his mouth, his lighter primed and ready in his right hand, just waiting for the first permissible opportunity to feed his addiction. Usually, he could’ve cared less about lighting up a smoke once technically on his way outside the house. I really hoped this new version of him turned out to be a lasting thing.
“‘You ready, Jackie?’ he asked.
“‘Yep,’ I replied, following him out the front door.
“‘Whew!’ he said, immediately holding his arm up to shield his eyes from the morning sun. ‘It’s going to be fucking hotter than hell today. I hope this goddamned expedition is worth it, don’t you?’
“‘Yeah, I do,’ I replied. Well, so he hadn’t changed that much. At least he remained cordial to me, allowing my fantasy of a new and improved older brother to continue. ‘Actually, I hoped we could do this some other time.’
“‘I’m not averse to visiting the place, except on a day like today,’ he advised, pausing to take another long drag from his cigarette. ‘Here’s what I’m really interested in: If we meet up with this Genovene, and she looks as hot as your first description of her...well... I’d like to get her on her knees and suck me off good.’
“I felt an icy tingle race up and down my spine. All at once, I relived my most intimate moments with her from the day before. I couldn’t believe he was talking about that kind of shit! He immediately sensed my discomfort.
“‘Hey, bro, I’m messing with you!’ he assured me. ‘Do you really think I’d want that monstrous bitch doing me with that hideous face you described last night? Even if she can make herself hot as a centerfold, damn I’d still know what’s underneath! It ain’t fucking happening—that’s for goddamned sure, Jackie! Not even if she offered me a million bucks... though, I’d have to consider it for two—just kidding!!’
“He grabbed my shoulder and gave me the wink we’d both learned from our grandfather. At that same moment, Grandpa came barreling out the front door with the remaining supplies for our trip.
“‘Come on boys!’ he urged. ‘I’ve got the Jeep ready and waiting!’
“He stepped off the porch and took the walkway around to the side of the house where the Jeep was parked, with Jeremy and me right behind him.
“The Jeep was pretty old, with faded paint once a much darker shade of green. Grandpa had already loaded two backpacks into the Jeep’s rear, and added a third pack and a small cooler when we reached the vehicle. We all climbed in, with Jeremy joining Grandpa in the front seat while I settled into the seat behind them. After letting the engine warm up, Grandpa backed the Jeep down our long driveway and onto Lelan’s Way.
“We headed north about a mile until we reached a fork in the road. Grandpa took the left fork, which is Baileys Bend Road, and followed it as it curved and twisted for roughly another mile before it straightened out again, bearing steeply downhill toward the west. Then, he slowed the Jeep down and turned left onto a dirt road heading south as it followed a large river. An old tattered and rusted sign that stood near the road’s entrance read ‘Black Warrior Road’.
“‘I know ya’ll are familiar with much of the Black Warrior River, especially north of us,’ said Grandpa. ‘In case you don’t know, it merges with the Tombigbee River not far from here. This portion, however, doesn’t get many visitors, since it often floods—especially near the basin where the two rivers meet and become one river, the Tombigbee. It then travels to the southern-most reaches of Alabama, where it feeds the Mobile River that empties directly into the Gulf of Mexico.
“‘The road here used to follow the Black Warrior from Tuscaloosa to the southern outskirts of Carlsdale. A host of other little townships once used this road as a major thoroughfare, but due to modern developments the road hasn’t been utilized in years. It’ll take us up to a bridge that sits near the path I believe you walked on yesterday, Jack. Even though it’s longer this way, it’s much safer than chancing a trip through the woods by our house, since there could be a few hot spots hidden under the charred timber.’
“‘Are you sure you want to do this, Grandpa?’ I asked, worriedly.
“We approached the hillside with the path cut along its face. I immediately pictured Vydora peering at us through the treetops, ready to jump down from the hillside and land directly in front of the Jeep.
“‘Yeah, I do,” he replied. “And, I believe it’s all right for us to be here today, Jack. Otherwise you would’ve fussed more to keep us away from here. Ain’t I right about that, son?’ He looked over his shoulder at me.
“‘Yeah, I guess so, Grandpa,’ I said. ‘But, I can’t help feeling it’s too soon for me to be back here.’
“Right when I said this, we pulled alongside the front of the hill. I drew in my breath and Jeremy whistled through his teeth. Grandpa simply looked on in silence. The entire hillside was laced with dark charred streaks from when Vydora unleashed her fiery wrath the previous afternoon.
“‘Will you look at that shit!’ whispered Jeremy.
“‘The flagstone path along that hillside was laid more than two hundred years ago, boys,’ Grandpa told us, ignoring Vydora’s handiwork for the moment. ‘In fact, thi
s area has been settled by the likes of us since the early seventeen hundreds. Prior to that, this was the sacred hunting grounds and campsite of the Chickasaw Indians.’
“Jeremy and I looked at each other, our eyebrows raised in surprise at our grandfather’s nonchalant reaction to the fire damage on the hillside. When we looked back at him, he pulled his gaze away from the road long enough for me to catch the sparkle in his eyes and the excitement in his face.
“‘Try not to let any of this make you uneasy,’ he advised, turning his attention back to the road ahead. ‘But if you boys are too uncomfortable with what we’re about to do, and you want to turn around and go back home, I suppose we could do just that. I’d just be dropping you off, though.’
“‘Dropping us off??’ Jeremy seemed offended he’d even suggest such a thing.
“‘Yes, dropping you both off,’ said Grandpa. ‘I’m going to have a look around here regardless of what either of you decide to do. Hopefully, now that we’ve taken the trouble to actually come here, you’ll stay with me. If legends are correct, we won’t be encountering any dragons, golden villages, or anything else of the sort since it’s all gone and shouldn’t be able to reappear. I’m highly curious about what might’ve been left behind. Perhaps we’ll even find us a gold trinket or two—it’s happened before!’
“Despite the potential danger, neither of us wanted to go back yet. The tantalizing mystery of what was left behind latched onto our curiosity almost as tightly as it had our grandfather’s.
“‘There’s the bridge,’ he announced. “I’ll park the Jeep over here against the hill, and then we’ll head on over to the old fort.”
“An immediate cold shudder ran through me. The bridge sat in the exact same spot as the one from the previous day. An old rickety log structure, the fact a bridge of any kind sat there was disturbing. I glanced a short distance down from the bridge, looking for the willow. But, the tree and any other remnant from Genovene’s world were long gone. Only a large solitary fir stood near the bridge.
“‘So, there’s really a fort around here?’ asked Jeremy. He eagerly looked out toward the bridge through the front passenger window. ‘I thought that was just an old myth.’
“‘No, it’s real, all right,’ Grandpa told him. ‘There’s not much left of it now, I understand.’
“He pulled the Jeep alongside the hill and parked it beneath a pair of medium-sized walnut trees that’d somehow escaped the fire. We all jumped out and moved to the back of the vehicle to get our supplies.
“Each of us grabbed a backpack, and Grandpa gave Jeremy the cooler to carry. Once ready to go, Grandpa grabbed his rifle and placed it in his backpack, and then shut the Jeep’s rear door. He reassured me again the firearm was strictly precautionary, and the three of us headed for the bridge.
“‘Be careful, boys!’ Grandpa cautioned. ‘The bridge should support us well enough, but ya’ll can’t be bouncing up and down on it. The fort is about a mile up the road from here.’
“He climbed on first and we followed close behind him. I looked down into the deep water beneath us through gaps in the flimsy wooden floor of the bridge, thankful these spaces weren’t large enough to fall through. But the old bridge creaked and moaned in protest with each step we took.
“Once we stood on the other side of the Black Warrior, I couldn’t believe the dramatic change since yesterday. The native trees and plants had completely overrun the area since then, and it appeared these woods hadn’t been visited by anyone for many years. The wilderness before us seemed to stretch for several miles. The only remaining similarity was the western direction of the path.
“Within fifteen minutes we arrived at a clearing in the woods that spanned roughly twenty acres. Weathered, hand-hewn logs lay on the ground throughout the area, most partially hidden by tall grass and weeds. A few logs stood on either side of the path, and Grandpa said they were part of the main entrance to the fort at one time. Behind the entrance, nearly a hundred feet away, sat the ruins of a pair of small buildings.
“I led the way, since really curious about these buildings. I ran toward them to get a better look. Made almost entirely of stone, except for the splintered fragments of wooden doors and shutters, the frayed remains of wooden crossbeams hung down from the open rooftops of each structure.
“The area stunk to high heaven with a noxious odor that smelled like rotten eggs. Holding my nose and breathing through my mouth, I moved up to the doorway of one of the buildings. Moss and algae covered the stone walls and thick cobwebs hung down from the few remaining ceiling boards. The dirt floor was overrun with weeds and an assortment of old beer and soda bottles. Near the doorway, I watched a large golden orb spider crawl steadily toward a monarch butterfly struggling desperately to free itself from the spider’s near-perfect web. I shivered and looked away.
“My grandfather soon arrived and we waited for Jeremy to catch up to us. Once he did, he grabbed and pinched his nose as well.
“‘Pee-ewww! What the hell is that smell?’ he whined in disgust.
“‘Sulfur,’ replied Grandpa. ‘This is what’s left of the first fort ever built in the region, called Fort Mullins. You’ve probably never even heard of it, since it didn’t stay functional for long. The early settlers in this area tried to push it from their memories, if not from the local history books, soon after it was abandoned two hundred and seventy years ago,’ he explained.
“‘You know, my brother Monty and I used to play around here with Carl Peterson, along with a group of local kids,’ he continued, smiling as he reminisced. ‘We’d wade in the shallows of the river, chilling our legs and feet, and then we’d make a mad dash through the woods until we reached the hot springs just beyond the fort here, which I’ll show you in a moment. We’d play ‘hide n’ seek’ until it’d get dark and we all had to go home. The older folks back then said kids had been doing that kind of thing for years. The only time they didn’t was during the Civil War when folks stayed low or they’d likely get shot.’
“He looked away, gazing in the direction of the river. When he looked back at the fort ruins, he chuckled quietly to himself.
“‘Monty and I came out here regularly,’ he recalled. ‘We even caught a young couple completely naked one time behind these buildings. Man, I’ve never seen two people fly out of here faster, both butt-naked and carrying their clothes—most of which they dropped along the way!’
“He laughed heartily for a moment before moving beyond the ruins. He walked over to a large rock formation sitting near the western edge of the clearing, still chuckling. Jeremy and I followed him and were soon greeted by the gurgling and swishing noises of water boiling nearby, accompanied by a small cloud of steam rising from the top of the rock formation.
“‘Here’s what’s stinking the place up, boys,’ he told us. ‘It’s probably the only hot spring in this country unknown to the National Geological Institute or whatever outfit currently keeps track of these things. It doesn’t have a name—not even an Indian one I’m aware of. But it does seem likely someone would’ve had to refer to it by some moniker through the years. Watch your step and I’ll show ya’ll something.’
“We climbed the dark-gray rocks and when we reached the top, Grandpa steadied himself on a large slab. He sat down and motioned for us to do the same. The gurgling-swishing sound a lot louder, the small cloud of steam hovered just above the slab, sending mist-like tendrils toward us. I turned to watch these vapor fragments rise some twenty feet higher into the air before they dissipated.
“The smell almost unbearable, Jeremy and I pinched our noses as tight as we could. Grandpa, on the other hand, seemed unaffected by the odor, and was ready to continue as our tour guide.
“‘Boys, you’ll need to be extremely careful,’ he advised. ‘If you look down from here, you’ll see a sight you’re not likely to ever forget.’
“He leaned just barely over the slab’s edge, and we did likewise. Peering through the steam, we saw the boiling pool of w
ater in its brilliant turquoise basin, bubbling twelve to fifteen feet below us. The water pushed and surged its way over the far corner of the hot tub-sized pool, forming a stream that carved a path another forty feet down until it emptied into another much larger pool. Steam rose from that pool, too, though the water didn’t appear to boil.
“‘The Indians, both ancient and more recent up until a hundred and eighty years ago, spent a great deal of time here,’ said Grandpa. ‘We know this on account of the burial mounds and stone graves on the north, west, and south sides of the clearing. The water directly below us is scalding hot, as you can tell, but the water in the larger pool is much more pleasant. On average, it stays between ninety-eight and a hundred and seven degrees Fahrenheit all year ‘round. The Indians must’ve bathed in it because I know we did growing up. I suppose the first white settlers to this area decided to build the fort here for the same reason, to have access to the hot water. If they needed fresh cold water, the river sits less than a mile away, as you know.’
“I stared into the bubbling pool below, somehow charmed by the brilliant blue-green color of the water. I knew it was an illusion caused by mineral deposits encrusted on the rock sides of the pool. Yet, the color and the big bursting bubbles reminded me of something.... All of a sudden it hit me, and I backed up quickly from the slab’s edge.
“‘What’s wrong, son?’ Grandpa asked, a tad worried. ‘Is the steam too warm for you?’
“‘Yeah, a little, Grandpa,’ I told him.
“Another lie and I hated it. True, the steam was hot. But the bubbling water reminded me of the throbbing blue mass I’d seen in Genovene’s village. Seeing it freaked me out, and now I only wanted to get as far away as possible.
“‘Can we go now, Grandpa?’ I pleaded, looking up at him with imploring eyes. ‘I’m feeling kind of sick to my stomach from that awful smell.’
“‘Are you sure, Jack?’ Grandpa studied my face, seemingly torn between genuine concern and disappointment.
