by Aiden James
“‘So that’s it, huh?’ he said, his voice lowered in disappointment.
“‘Yeah, that’s it,’ I told him, almost chuckling. A bit punchy by now, picturing Genovene with one of those ridiculous graduation caps was almost too much.
“Once back inside the house, we emptied the backpacks’ contents onto the kitchen table. To avoid a return to the subject of Genovene’s wardrobe and a possible link to the invisible harassment I’d endured that afternoon, I offered an elaborate description of the pyramids looming just beyond the bridge, as well as the unusual inscriptions etched onto their transparent sides. I did this awkwardly, interrupting the small talk between my brother and grandfather about how good a cold roast beef sandwich can taste when you’re really hungry. As I blurted out my ramble describing the wondrous scene on the Black Warrior’s western bank, Jeremy and Grandpa abruptly ended their conversation and turned their entire attention to me.
“It seemed like they’d decided to wait on me to bring it up, unsure how to broach the subject otherwise, given my near-hysteria by the bridge and reluctance to elaborate on what I saw. Realizing that’s all they really wanted, I relaxed, clearly describing the environment that’d materialized by the bridge. When finished, we sat in silence.
“Jeremy appeared to bite his lower lip, as if forcing himself to keep a painful promise not to interrogate me further. Grandpa, on the other hand, stared out through the kitchen window, as if reliving an experience from long ago.
“‘Well, son, that makes three truly unique experiences for you in three days,’ he said. ‘I’d say there’s never been a ‘Season’ quite like this one before—definitely not around these parts. I just hope what I’ve got to say tonight has relevance for you both. If for some reason it doesn’t, just stop me.’
“He stood up and pushed in his chair, picking up the condiments from the table and taking them over to the fridge.
“‘I thought we’d order a couple of pizzas tonight, boys, since I’m too beat to cook,’ he advised. ‘How’s that sound to ya’ll?’
“‘Sounds great!’ I said.
“‘I can live with that, I guess,’ said Jeremy, standing up and pushing his chair in.
“He headed for the sink to get his ashtray, a freshly lit cigarette dangling from his lips. It sat there precariously, bouncing up and down as he hummed an old Alice N’ Chains tune.
“‘You know, son, if that damned thing falls on the floor and scorches the tile, you’ll be responsible for fixing it!’ Grandpa warned.
“‘Don’t worry,’ Jeremy assured him. ‘I’ve yet to drop so much as an ash on your pretty floor...so far.’
“Grandpa glared at him for a moment, then sighed and shook his head as he finished clearing the kitchen table.
“‘Ah, hell. I just remembered I’m supposed to help Freddy repair his carburetor this afternoon,’ said Jeremy.
“He carefully tapped the cigarette into the base of the ashtray, preserving most of it so he could finish it later. He pulled out his truck keys and headed for the hallway.
“‘Why don’t I get the pizzas, Grandpa,’ he offered. ‘I know what ya’ll usually like and there’s a new place over in Demopolis. If ya’ll are willing, we could try it out.’
“‘Sure,’ said Grandpa. He seemed pleasantly surprised by Jeremy’s offer.
“‘I trust you,’ I added. ‘But, are you planning to tell Freddy what’s been going on around here?’
“He frowned for a moment as if considering this idea for the first time.
“‘No, I don’t think so,’ he said. ‘At least not until I get a better handle on what it’s all about. I honestly don’t know what to think…. Like Grandpa here, I shared in some of what’s happened and it’s pretty much fucked up my way of thinking. That’s all I can be sure of at this point.’
“He threw back his hair from his face and checked his breast pocket to make sure he had enough cigarettes to last the afternoon.
“‘Well, I better get going,’ he said, and headed for the hallway. ‘I’m looking forward to what you’ve got to say tonight, Grandpa. Hopefully, it’ll help me understand everything a little better. I’ll see ya’ll in awhile. Six o’clock?’
“‘That’ll be just fine, son. Don’t go racing out there,’ Grandpa advised. ‘We’ll see you in a bit with those pizzas.’
“‘Oh, and don’t forget to call Carl Peterson or Sheriff McCracken to tell them about that thing by the old fort and the hot spring,’ Jeremy reminded him, just as he stepped out of our view.
“‘I was just fixing to do that.’
“My brother slammed the front door behind him, and soon the heavy rumble of his customized truck filled the air outside our home until it faded near Bailey’s Bend Road.
“‘Well, I guess I better call Carl and Joe.’ Grandpa sighed. ‘Are you up for helping me pick some vegetables from the garden after while, Jack, if it stops raining?’
“‘Sure.’
“‘Good. I’m thinking a small salad might be nice to go with dinner tonight.’
“‘I’ll be passing on that, Grandpa,’ I told him, ‘and you know Jeremy won’t want one either. But if you want a salad, I’ll gladly help you with it.’
“‘Well, then, one of us will be enough to gather the fixings,’ he said. ‘You’re still welcome to join me anyway, as I always enjoy your company.’
“‘Thanks, Grandpa. I’ll do that.’
“He called Carl Peterson to tell him about the latest critter we’d encountered. As the rain had stopped and the sun now forced its way through the storm clouds, I waited outside for him on the back porch. The air still thick with heat and humidity, the backyard’s vast array of insects had already resumed the daily activities they’d abandoned earlier on account of the weather. I always marveled at how resilient they were in the face of continuous adversity. Watching a pair of honeybees work in rotation on a nearby honeysuckle bush, I walked over to one of two chairs sitting near the steps that led down into the yard and sat down.
“‘Are you ready, Jack’ Grandpa asked once he joined me a few minutes later, letting the screen door slam loudly. He held a pair of buckets along with work gloves and a straw hat for himself. He’d also brought along an extra pair of sunglasses for me to wear.
“‘Yeah, I’m ready,’ I said, standing up to meet him by the steps.
“‘Carl told me he’ll contact Joe.’
“‘What did he think of what happened today?’
“‘A little surprised, I think,’ said Grandpa. ‘I get the feeling he still expects Vydora to re-emerge at any time. He hadn’t considered checking for her at the old fort area, though. He said as soon as Joe can spare a moment, he’d like to go out there and take a look. But after what I told him, along with what happened yesterday, I do believe he won’t be going anywhere near there unless he’s escorted by Sheriff McCracken and a couple of his armed deputies.’
“Grandpa smiled wryly and I couldn’t help snickering at what he just said.
“‘Anyway, it’ll probably be a little muddy out there in the garden, so I’m going to put my old work boots on and you’ll want to change into the pair of old shoes you have sitting by the back door.’
“I told him I’d rather wear the waffle-soled shoes I already had on. I assured him I’d be careful to keep them clean. He told me that’d be fine, and then exchanged his shoes for a weathered and torn pair of low-top boots. After leaving the other shoes near the door, he straightened his trousers and we headed down the porch steps.
“‘You may want to put these on, Jack, unless you’d rather wear my hat,’ he teased as he handed me the sunglasses.
“‘You can keep the hat, Grandpa,’ I told him. ‘I shouldn’t need the glasses either, since we’re only going to be outside here for a little while. Right?’
“‘Well, I had a few other things to take care of,’ he advised. ‘You can go back inside once we get the vegetables. I’d appreciate it if you’d wear them until then.’
�
�I went ahead and put on the glasses, and we walked together to the front of the house. I don’t remember if I mentioned it, but the garden sat adjacent to the Palmer’s front yard. Roughly a quarter of an acre in size, a waist-high white picket fence enclosed it. I ran up and opened the gate.
“The earth still wet from the recent rain shower made me wonder why in the hell I actually agreed to do this. I stood on a thin strip of grass and one of the ornamental flagstones that bordered the garden. Once Grandpa realized he should’ve insisted on me dressing more appropriately, he told me to wait by the garden’s gate, and that he’d hand me the buckets when full.
“‘Damn! It’s almost three o’clock,’ he said, glancing at his wristwatch. ‘We better get busy, here!’
“He gave me one of the buckets to hold and then moved in amongst the well-kept plants, stepping through the mud while carefully avoiding the network of vines lying exposed on the ground. The garden was filled with just about every kind of vegetable there is, like cucumbers, squash, carrots, and potatoes. There were several tall rows of corn, and shorter rows of cabbage, lettuce, and peppers—both hot and mild. Even some fruit plants such as strawberries, cantaloupes, and watermelons. At the far eastern edge of the garden stood a pair of tall trellises full of concord grapes.
“‘I’m going to start at the far end and work my way back here, Jack,’ he said. ‘See you in a few minutes!’
“I found a fairly dry flagstone near the gate and sat down. Grandpa moved over to the eastern end of the garden. From where I sat, I clearly saw his work boots and the bottom portion of his trousers through gaps between the plants’ leaves and stalks.
“The last few clouds had disappeared and the sun bore down on us, unmerciful. A medium-sized elm in the Palmer’s front yard hung over onto our property, throwing its misshapen shadow into the garden’s northwestern corner. A slight breeze swayed the branches back and forth, giving life to the shadow. It suddenly appeared to have scrawny arms with grotesquely long claws. Despite the sun’s intense warmth I shuddered and turned to look at the tree.
“Nothing unusual. Nothing out of place. Just an ugly malformed tree.
“I turned back toward the garden, watching Grandpa slowly work his way back to me. Suddenly, it felt like someone stood nearby…. Creepy as hell, man. The intensity of the unannounced visitor’s presence, or stare, grew strong enough to raise the gooseflesh on my neck, shoulders, and arms.
“I whirled around on the flagstone. Still nobody there. Just the elm tree pushed to and fro by the wind. There wasn’t anyone over by the back wall either. Yet the feeling of being watched remained.
“Meanwhile, Grandpa sifted through the corn less than thirty feet away. What’s taking him so long??
“‘Hurry, Grandpa. Please!’ I whispered. He looked up briefly and smiled at me, unaware I sat on pins and needles.
“I’ll be done with this bucket in just a minute or so, Jack!’
“‘Okay, Grandpa!’ I replied, silently hollering ‘Please hurry!!’
“The unseen presence steadily grew worse. Ready to get my shoes muddy and join him in the middle of the garden, the hollow voice of Genovene whispered in my ear.
“‘Ja-a-a-ck!’
“‘Hey, Grandpa!’ I called to him. ‘Would you mind if I come join you?’
“‘You can’t ru-u-un! You can’t hi-i-i-de!!
“‘Son, I’m almost done, so there’s no sense in getting your shoes muddy!’
“‘I’ll always know how to fi-i-i-nd you!! I’ll always know where you a-r-r-r-e!!!’
“Grandpa bent down to reach for a few young hot peppers. In that very moment, I saw another shadow, this one to the right of the elm tree. A tall gangly form silently approached the garden’s fence. It bore similarities to Genovene the day before, like some giant misshapen insect. The shadow shortened and its image became even more malformed. Horrified, I watched as it bent toward me.
“Something really cold touched me.
“‘Grandpa!!!’
“He looked up just as I stood and tried to run to him. The bottoms of my shoes slick from the wet grass, I slipped on the flagstone. I fell headlong into the garden’s mud, snapping three vines and crushing a small butternut squash against my chest.
“‘Jack!! Are you all right??’
“Grandpa’s strong hands lifted me up. I wiped the mud from my face and out of my mouth while I looked over my shoulder. Whatever stalked me had disappeared.
“‘What in the hell just happened??’ Grandpa demanded.
“‘I-I don’t really know,’ I replied, determined not to alarm him further. ‘I felt something crawl on my back and it scared the holy crap out of me. Sorry about that, Grandpa!’
“I forced the biggest smile I could muster. He smiled in return, but something in his eyes told me he didn’t buy my explanation this time.
“‘Come on, son,’ he said. ‘Let’s go inside and get you cleaned up. I believe I’ve got the fixings here to make a salad big enough for all of us if you and Jeremy decide to have some after all.’
“The two of us left the garden, and once we returned to the back porch we left our muddied shoes there and went on inside. It seemed considerably warmer in the kitchen than earlier, despite the pair of hard-working floor fans. Grandpa placed the bucket of vegetables in the sink and suggested we get cleaned up. We agreed to meet in the living room after I finished taking a shower, but before I started up the stairs, he stopped me and said he had something important to tell me first.
“‘Son, despite what you’ve been through these past few days, there are some things you need to keep in mind,’ he said. ‘Number one, I’ll always love you no matter what happens or what you do—that’s the most important. Number two, I’m as proud as anybody could be that you’re my grandson. Most folks couldn’t survive what you’ve gone through, but I was already proud of you anyway. You’re a good kid…. Number three, and this is the last thing, Jack. I know a hell of a lot more than you think I do and you’re not near as good a liar as you think you’ve become. Now, go on and get cleaned up and I’ll see you down here in awhile.’
“He watched me walk to the top of the stairs before moving on to his own bedroom.
“The upstairs’ spookiness got a little worse again, since I now worried about Genovene’s whereabouts. With so many nooks and crannies, I prayed fervently she hadn’t snuck inside our house.
“I quickly showered and put on some clean clothes, and then headed back downstairs to the living room. Four o’clock, according to the mantel clock. Jeremy wasn’t due home with the pizzas for another two hours. Grandpa stood on his stepladder near the front corner of the room, reaching for a large dust-covered book that’d been barely visible atop the bookshelf. He looked over at me while hoisting it down from its resting place. I’d never noticed it before.
“‘Hey, son, do you feel better now?’
“‘Yeah, much better. What’ve you got there?’
“‘Oh, just a very old picture album,’ he explained. ‘I thought it might be kind of fun for you and Jeremy to thumb through this tonight.’
“He stepped off the ladder and carried the album to the dining room table, where it landed with a thick thud. He carefully dusted off the cover and then left it near the table’s center, straightening the embroidered tablecloth before moving into the kitchen.
“‘I want to finish up a few things in here,’ he said, once he noticed I’d followed him. ‘Why don’t you find out if the Braves are playing today? If they are, I’ll get us a couple of sodas and we’ll watch the game together.’
“I went into the living room and soon discovered the Atlanta Braves were playing. I remember it was the top of the second inning, their opponent the San Diego Padres. Grandpa soon joined me on the sofa, and we watched the game together until Jeremy showed up with the pizzas.”
***
“Well, here’s a first—a meal not prepared by your grandpa, huh?”
Peter grinned and took a moment to stan
d and stretch, and then pulled another journal from his attaché case.
“Why do you keep writing stuff down, when you’ve got the recorder here?”
Jack pointed to the small device on the table, where on its face a small green light pulsed every few seconds.
“My own way of indexing where we are,” explained Peter. “I’ll go back later and segment the interview—sort of like setting up scenes on a DVD.”
He shrugged his shoulders and sat down, opening the latest journal and clicking his pen open.
“Í guess I’m just a little anal about some things.” His grin broadened into a full, confident smile.
“Is that why you keep clicking your pen, too?”
Jack cracked a wry smirk. Though he had scarcely noticed this at first, it had become a predictive trait for the agent, as every time he prepared to make a journal entry he clicked the pen twice, and then twice more.
Peter’s smile faded into a perplexed look as he considered Jack’s observation, seemingly unaware that he clicked his pen twice again while doing so. He snickered softly, his face turning a slight shade of crimson.
“A nervous habit, I guess,” he admitted. “Is it bothering you?”
“Not yet,” said Jack, teasingly. “Are you ready to continue?”
Peter told him ‘sure’ and then asked him if he still wanted to wait to take a break. Jack nodded, confirming his previous preference to finish the interview first.
“Okay, we’ll stay the course for now,” Peter agreed, leaning over the table to check the battery and capacity level on the recorder before glancing at his watch. Then he sat down again, motioning for Jack to carry on. “So, dinner was about to start.”
“Yes it was,” said Jack. “Just after six o’clock, Jeremy arrived carrying our meal in a protective carrier he’d purchased that afternoon. Three large pizzas…the place where he got them actually wasn’t bad. We ate in the living room while watching the remainder of the baseball game. Extremely rare for Grandpa to allow this, and definitely the only time he ever suggested it himself. The mood lighthearted, my brother and I were excited to hear what he’d soon tell us.
