Nothing Town

by Cherie Mitchell

  Belle, George, and Jamie arrive shortly before D-hour and we all gather in the living room in order for Jane to fill us in on the final details. “My soul sisters and I have spent the last 24 hours working on a spell to call the zombies forth. Their undead hearts will hear the siren call. They will be unable to resist it and they’ll start to gather from far and wide. Once they’re all in town together, their combined energy will force them to reveal their true selves. This part could be messy so make sure you’re prepared.”

  “What about Obidiah? And why hasn’t he tried to stop this? Do you really think he has no clue as to what we’re planning?” This notion kept me awake for most of the night. I kept imagining I could see his evil red eyes blinking at me from the corner of the bedroom. I ended up leaving the lights on, despite Organza’s protests, because I couldn’t shake that icky feeling of being watched.

  “Yes, he’s aware of what we’re trying to do. However, he can’t step over the threshold of this house. He can’t even step inside the gate without an invitation. We made sure of that.”

  Agnes titters. “We played a small trick of our own and constructed an unseen barrier around the house soon after you arrived.”

  “Except someone got a little too excited and nearly burned the place down.” Jane throws a disapproving glare at Myrtle. I remember seeing the scorch marks on the side of the house in front of the silver birch trees. I’m relieved to hear that the red eyes in my room last night were just my imagination but I’m still incredibly nervous about whatever it is that Obidiah is readying himself to do next. After all, he did say his greatest wish was to see me suffer and that isn’t a pleasant thought to dwell upon.

  Mom, who has been fluttering around plumping the sofa cushions and tying the net curtains back, asks what will happen once all the zombies are in town. I can see she’s worried and I can understand her concern. We have been through this type of situation before and those memories are hard to forget. We are deja voodoo, we know more than you doo.

  “Once the people of town and country are as one we can recreate history. We’ll make the corrections necessary, release everyone from the curse, and move forward into a bright new future.” Jane checks the clock on the wall. “It’s nearly time.”

  I peer out the window but the street remains empty. There aren’t even any livestock freighters rolling past. “So they’ll hear the siren call and come waltzing in, just like the rats who followed the Pied Piper?”

  Agnes clasps her hands over her heart. “The Pied Piper! Oh my, I haven’t heard his name in centuries. He was a hunk.”

  “Sex on legs,” agrees Myrtle. “His charms were especially potent following Friday Night Happy Hour. It was almost impossible to say no to him after imbibing a couple of ciders.”

  “There’s someone out there,” says George as he leans past me to gawp through the windowpane. “Actually, there are quite a few people out there.”

  Everyone rushes to the window to see. “Cool,” Reece breathes. “It’s zombie-geddon.”

  “The zom-pocalypse,” adds Organza.

  We stare out in wonder at the heinous mess now spread across the street. A parade of slow-moving zombies are rolling milk barrels down the center of the road. White liquid spills out of the barrels in all directions as the townspeople run after the zombie platoon, shouting and shaking their fists in anger.

  Mom is clearly confused. “Why aren’t the zombies tearing chunks off everyone? These zombies aren’t acting like the zombies I remember from Cemetery Hill.”

  “These are politico-economic zombies, remember? Their raw flesh eating is confined to cattle. I explained all of this before.” I spot Ronnie Kay amidst the crowd, lurching dumbly along. “There’s the Kenworth boys.”

  “All of them? Is Matt there? I’m still disappointed I didn’t get to meet him.” Organza shoves me aside to get a better look.

  “What happens now?” I turn around to speak to Jane, who is waiting quietly in the background. “The zombies have heard the call, the townspeople are having conniptions about the mess, and I have no doubt that Obidiah is lurking around there somewhere. What do we have to do next?”

  “Just wait and watch,” Jane says serenely. “They’re not sure where they’re going yet. All they know is that they need to be in town. If my calculations are right, they’ll do a slow loop then congregate back here at Windfell.”

  “Why here?”

  “Because this is where the original trial took place. The recreation of the scene has to happen here.”

  “I still don’t understand our part in all of this,” George blusters, jumping into his preferred committee mode again. “What do you want with Belle and me?”

  “Belle is here because she has a part to play as my descendent.” Jane is struggling to contain her distaste as she looks George up and down and I’m suddenly aware that she doesn’t think he’s good enough for her distantly-removed niece. “You’re here to support your wife.”

  “Oh, there’s Dixie! Dixie, Dixie, yoo-hoo!” Mom bangs on the windowpane and waves at the Sheriff but he’s too busy trying to round up the zombies to notice her. Again, I get the uncomfortable sense that we’re walking a path we’ve walked down too often before. My family is here, we’re shut up inside a house, Obidiah and his intense, unrelenting hatred are hanging around in the ether somewhere, zombies are cluttering up the landscape, and a small town cop has his sticky fingers in the middle of it all. We are deja voodoo, we know more than you doo.

  Jane lays a gentle hand on my arm. “It’s nearly time. Are you ready, Ellie? When I say all rights will soon be wronged, I mean all of them.”

  “What do you mean?”

  She gazes into my eyes and I see the faint flicker of twin flames imprinted on her irises. “You remind Obidiah of a love he once knew. You looked somewhat like her as a child but as an adult, you’re her living, breathing image. She rejected his advances centuries ago, choosing another man over him. That’s why he hates you so much. You’re a reminder that he wasn’t good enough. Don’t worry, I intend to sort this out today. You don’t need a disgruntled demon with a grudge haunting you for the rest of your days.”

  “How did you find this out?”

  She taps the side of her nose. “The nose knows. Hold on tight. It’s about to get interesting.”

  My stomach clenches and my bowels twist, and I wonder if I have time to use the bathroom before the interesting part she mentioned begins. At least I now know the reason for Obidiah’s obsession with me but I can’t say it’s very reassuring to know. He’s going to be furious when he discovers that Jane’s plan includes ending his own reign of terror. I have no doubt that hell hath will have no fury like Obidiah after a woman scorns and defeats him once more.

  I’m not admitting I’m scared but I have had better Mondays.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Just as Jane predicted, the ambling parade of zombies loops up through the town spreading a trail of milk and destruction behind them and oblivious to the efforts of the Sheriff and his men to stop them. Before long, they’re all back in front of Windfell. I think most of the town is here now and it’s confronting to see so many people crowded into the front yard.

  Jane walks sedately across the room and opens the door. We all scamper over and bunch up behind her, pushing and shoving at each other so we can get the best view. “Good morning,” she says graciously. “I’m so glad you could all come today.”

  “What’s all this about?” growls Sheriff Dixie. “Who are you?”

  Jane ignores him and skims her eyes over the crowd as the zombies tip the remainder of the milk across the grass. I watch the spillage, mildly fascinated as the milk seeps into the soil and disappears.

  “Are the members of the Town Council here today?” Jane calls.

  Sid Kenworth cocks his head to one side and someone from behind gives him a shove forward. “Put your brains back in your head, Sid. She’s talking about you.”

  “Me too.” Stewart, my first dating
app man, puts his hand up. “I’m with the Council.”

  One by one, the men step up and I’m surprised to see Luke and Oscar, two more of my dates, join the group. I look around for Bud Feely, who was one of my favorites before he went cold on me, and I’m disconcerted to see his eyes fixed on me from where he’s standing at the edge of the crowd. He’s wearing one of his red lumberjack shirts and he looks masculine and reliable. The type of man a woman could lean on in times of trouble. I shake that tricky little thought out of my head and force myself to look away. I should know better after the whole murky Jack Hemlock business.

  “Ahh, I do have my name down on the waiting list to join the Town Council if that’s any help.” George’s voice drifts out from behind Belle.

  “Pipe down, George. It’ll be a lot better for you if you take a back seat this morning.” Jane doesn’t even bother to turn her head to look at him.

  Surprisingly, George does as she says and steps back into the shadows.

  It’s around about then that the crowd on the street parts and a dark-featured man wearing a divine paisley shirt steps forward. Obidiah. I hear Reece suck in a breath beside me and I put my arm around him. The men shuffle around respectfully to give Obidiah some room. He just has that kind of presence, that commanding aura of someone who knows he’s someone. Or who thinks he is. I borrow one of Organza’s death stares and send it his way but his focus is concentrated on Jane for the moment. “What are we doing here?”

  “We fixing something that’s been allowed to go on for far too long. Two hundred years ago, on this very spot, a group of men murdered four innocent women. The time has come to reverse that wrongdoing and to lift the pall that has hung over Euthanasia ever since.”

  The men shift and whisper among themselves. Sheriff Dixie walks to the bottom step and glowers up at Jane. “State your name.”

  “Jane Oakleigh,” she says in a high, clear voice. “And I know who you are. Your ancestor, Coxie Normous, once condemned me and my friends without pure reason or fair trial to a hellish death by fire.”

  Sheriff Dixie looks around uncertainly. “That was centuries ago. Are you trying to tell me you’re the same person who stood trial before the Council back in the 1800s? Do you realize how ludicrous that sounds?”

  “I’m sure I don’t need to tell you that truth is stranger than fiction. You know as well as I do that Euthanasia is no ordinary town.”

  “This is a waste of everyone’s time,” snarls Obidiah. He flashes his hateful red eyes at me. “It’s that woman’s fault. Everything was fine here until she turned up with her falsehoods and lies.”

  Falsehoods and lies? Okay, that stings. I’m about to snap a reply back to him when Jane glances at me, warning me with her eyes to keep quiet. I hold back my comments and instead return Obidiah’s glare with a gaze as hateful as his own. You killed my father and you’re finally going to pay.

  “No, she might have a point. I for one would like the town to regain some sense of normalcy.” Sheriff Dixie eyes the upturned milk pails. “And for milk prices to remain stable. Let’s do this.”

  “Stop.” Obidiah isn’t finished yet. “What do you hope to gain by this?”

  “I’m turning back time, fixing the hitch, and smoothing the fabric of the past. Do you have any objections?”

  All of Obidiah’s bleating has finally caught the attention of Sheriff Dixie. I notice his hand go to the gun in his holster and he leaves it resting there as he addresses Obidiah. “Aren’t you Jack Hemlock?”

  “Who wants to know?” Obidiah insolently curls his lip at the Sheriff. “I don’t see what it’s got to do with you.”

  “We’ve been looking for you. We need to have a few words about a small incident that occurred at the library last week. Threads from a paisley shirt remain a current item of interest and I can’t help but notice that your tastes bend in that direction. Make sure you don’t disappear again before we’ve had that little chat, Mr. Hemlock.”

  Obidiah snorts and for the merest of seconds, his Jack façade falls away. I find myself staring into the dark, terrifying blackness of Obidiah in his true form and the sight freezes my blood in my veins. An instant later, Jack is back and I don’t think anyone but me noticed the shift.

  Jane ushers Agnes, Myrtle, and Maisie forward and the lonely, single men of Euthanasia stare at the young women with barely restrained hunger. “The trial will shortly begin. Please, can everyone move around to the side of the house? It makes sense to recreate the scene exactly where it first took place.” She gives her friends a push then looks around for Belle. “Come along, dear. You’re representing me in the present age, just as those men are representing the Town Council. Don’t look so worried. Everything will work out just fine.”

  “Why does she get to play a part when I don’t?” whines George from the back.

  “Shut up, George.” This time it’s Belle telling him that his opinion isn’t wanted. I think she’s picked up some of her Aunt Jane’s attitude. “Bring Jamie and make sure he doesn’t go playing in the split milk.”

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Mom, Organza, Reece, and I find ourselves a good vantage point from which to watch the trial. There’s enough room to stand on the grass now that the silver birch trees have gone and it’s odd to think there’s a good chance they’ll never return. Someone probably needs to plant a row of conifers here to fill the gap, or perhaps a hydrangea hedge. I can feel Obidiah watching me from the other side of the half circle that we’ve formed around Jane, Belle, and the members of the Town Council. Part of me is expecting him to attack in front of everyone but Jane has assured me that there are far too many good intentions here today to allow his evil ways to get a foothold. She says that it’s taking all his energy to appear nonchantly human in front of so many people and to re-demonize himself now just isn’t on the cards. Besides, there’s still that invisible barrier that he’s unable to cross for the time being.

  The ‘trial’ itself is astonishingly brief. Jane and the other women stand before the Town Council and Jane passes Sheriff Dixie a piece of paper. She asks him to read the words written on it and then she takes hold of Belle’s hand and waits. Maisie, Myrtle, and Agnes grip onto each other, clearly anxious about what is about to unfold.

  Sheriff Dixie frowns down at the note. “This is it?”

  “That’s it. Read it word for word, please. My niece Belle, standing in for my much younger self, will give the reply.” She whispers something in Belle’s ear and Belle nods, her eyes on the Sheriff.

  “He is rather handsome, isn’t he?” Mom simpers. “The way he fills out that uniform gives me goosebumps.”

  “Ugh, Mom, do you have to?” I risk another peek at Obidiah and I’m dismayed to see him still staring at me with those unblinking red eyes. He’s also switched places with one of the men and he’s standing a lot closer to me than he was before. A cold sensation makes itself at home on the base of my spine and my palms are beginning to itch.

  “Please, go ahead,” Jane prompts Sheriff Dixie.

  “Uh, is this it?” He holds the paper up and looks behind it, as if he’s expecting there to be more on the back.

  “That’s it. We’re doing it without the unnecessary mess of the dunking pond this time around. Please read it aloud for the townsfolk to hear.”

  “Alrighty.” Sheriff Dixie clears his throat loudly. “You, Jane Oakleigh, Agnes Highborn, Myrtle Johnson, and Maisie Abraham are hereby accused of the crime of witchcraft. How do you plead?”

  “We are innocent of the charge,” Belle says, after receiving a nudge from Jane.

  We all look back at the Sheriff, waiting for him to play his part. He shifts uncomfortably and refuses to meet Belle’s eye when he gives the reply as written. “Women always lie. Prepare the bonfires.”

  “This isn’t a trial!” blusters Mom, her indignation rising up around her like a smoke screen. “This is a witch hunt!”

  “Exactly.” Jane nods in agreement. “The Town Council had us tried
and sentenced us before the trial commenced, leaving us with no way to defend ourselves. However, it only takes a quick peek into the history books to discover that this was how the system worked. Our purpose here today is to reverse what happened and formally draw a line in the sand.”

  “This is an abomination.” The Sheriff screws up the paper and flings it down onto the ground. “It should never have been allowed to happen.”

  “So you’re happy for us to reverse it?” Jane faces the crowd. “All of you?”

  “Yes,” chorus the men of the Euthanasia while the politico-economic, cow-eating zombies drool and nod.

  “Then it is done. We’re trees no more.” Jane smiles at her friends and I see the women visibly relax.

  We’re all looking at each another now, pulling quizzical and perplexed faces in all directions as the brevity of the event sinks it. It feels more than a little anti-climactic. I think we all expected something grander, something more auspicious and memorable.

  “You need to uphold your part of the deal now. We need the curse lifted,” shouts Luke. “This is no way for any man to live.”

  “Here, here,” the other men chant. “Lift the curse, lift the curse.”

  Jane sucks at her teeth. “That part is slightly trickier. More complex, one might say.”

  “Can we do anything?” I ask Jane in a low voice. The men are getting stirred up now and it’s obvious they’re expecting a result. I hope Jane can come up with a useful suggestion before things get out of hand. “And what will happen to the three of you now that the outcome of the trial has been reversed?”

  “We’re free to live out the lives that were once so rudely cut short.”

  “You’ll stay here in Euthanasia?”

  “Possibly.” She gazes over to where she and the others once stood as four fine silver birch trees. “We need to build a pyre, preferably using silver birch wood. The country boys will need to march through the middle of it backward in order to reverse the malediction brought forth by the Sacral Decree.”