The Golden Talisman

by J. Stefan Jackson

  “They both ran downstairs crying, and raced into the sitting room, which was located at the far end of the house. They alerted the adults as to what was happening in the backyard. As it turned out, Robert had noticed the strange glow himself and passed it off as the setting sun combining its rays with the security lights just turning on. Once Jenny and her uncle explained what they had just witnessed from upstairs, he quickly recognized his error in discernment: the golden light emanated from the east—not the west, as it should have. That’s when he panicked.

  “Robert and Eileen sprinted for the door and threw it open. Once they stepped out onto the patio, though, the strange mist and its incredible intensity had vanished, along with any remaining trace of Bobby.”

  Peter looked away from Jack and sat down upon the concrete floor, for the moment relieving the painful stress on his knees and hamstrings from his crouched stance. “Jack, me carrying on like that has to look so fucking pathetic to you, I’m sure,” he sniffed while looking back up into Jack’s bewildered face, the tears and redness beginning to retreat. “If you can bear with me for just while longer, I’ll try and tie everything together.

  “I believe you can guess that Bobby was never seen or heard from again. When his mom and dad ran out onto the patio, Eileen fell to her knees and cried uncontrollably. She kept saying, ‘They came to take my baby, and he’s never coming back!’. Robert was never able to console her, though God knows how hard he tried.

  “Jenny, her uncle, and her grandparents were outside with them by this point, and everyone searched for Bobby throughout the entire yard. Everyone except Eileen, who remained sprawled out upon the back deck in her debilitating grief. All efforts to find him were in vain. It was as if the little guy simply vanished into thin air! The last thing ever found of him was the RavenWolff outfit, which Jenny discovered lying on the floor of the Tower Den’s clubhouse.

  “The entire neighborhood soon joined in the search, and the police joined in as well. Eileen’s father had recently retired from the FBI, and was able to obtain the agency’s assistance by the very next morning.

  “A small breakthrough came in the middle of the day, October 25th, when a police canine unit picked up Bobby’s scent and followed it for nearly three miles into the forest, until it abruptly disappeared at a hot spring and rock formation. For much of the distance tracked by the dogs and their trainers, a strange set of markings lined up next to Bobby’s scent. At first, the only thing determined from the markings was that they were some kind of footprint. No one could tell what kind of creature had made them, but they weren’t human. Near the end of the very next day, October 26th, a prominent zoologist flown in from Memphis finally was able to identify them, though only generally so. The tracks were reptilian.”

  Peter’s eyes danced as they intently studied Jack’s reaction to this last statement, as if he fully expected some important revelation to come forth. When it didn’t do so within the next few moments, he slowly looked away in disappointment. “Goddamn it, Jack! What’s it going to fucking take??” he wearily implored, lowering his head in his hands in obvious frustration. “You’ve got to help me out here. I mean, you’ve got strange reptilian footprints in Carlsdale, Alabama. Then, there are smaller, but nearly identical ones found near Jackson, Mississippi. You’ve got a strange golden mist outside your home in Carlsdale, that your next-door neighbors, the Palmers, confirmed they witnessed taking place during the early hours of July 28th. Then, another one is witnessed by Bobby Northrop’s sister and uncle on October 24th at the Northrop home.”

  Jack silently met Peter’s expectant gaze head-on. The agent’s unstable behavior was really starting to worry him. Still, he wasn’t about to fully cooperate just yet.

  “All right ...that’s fine,” Peter acknowledged, nodding as if he just read Jack’s thoughts. “Let’s move forward, then. Apparently it’s not enough that I’ve humiliated myself before you. Is it?”

  Jack remained stoic. He needed time to absorb this story before responding.

  “Very well. Follow me deeper into this personal hell of mine,” the agent sighed, forcing a smile onto his face that almost broke Jack’s steadfast refusal to collaborate or validate the account.

  “I’ll bet you’re wondering why this means so much to me...right? Did you know Eileen Northrop told her husband, Robert, that she felt like they were being watched by an unseen presence located somewhere in the woods, and that this had been going on ever since they moved in just two months prior?”

  Jack wasn’t able to resist raising an eyebrow at this latest revelation. Of course, Peter noted this reaction as well. Encouraged, he continued.

  “Did you ever see a photograph of this amazingly beautiful woman, Jack?” Peter asked. “Here, check this one out. This was taken the day before Bobby’s disappearance.”

  Peter pulled out several photographs from the inside breast pocket of his jacket. He took one of the pictures and placed it directly in front of Jack on the table, who suddenly recognized the image of the woman standing in the middle of the photograph. It had been years since he had seen this person’s likeness, as the last time had been on a tabloid cover near the end of 1999. Over time, he had forgotten their names, but back then he knew the Northrop’s tragedy was connected to his own.

  “I thought so,” Peter whispered softly, completely void of any triumph on account of this revelation. He stood up and brushed his suit off, and then moved back to his side of the table. Jack’s eyes followed his exact progress as he did so.

  “Eileen never recovered from this,” he resumed, his voice hollow and just barely audible. “She died the very next spring, on April 19th, leaving her grief stricken husband to care for their only remaining child. Shortly after that, in June, Eileen’s mother passed away suddenly from a stroke. The doctors told her husband and Eileen’s younger brother, who had just turned nineteen and was finishing his first semester at Lehigh University, that her health was most likely severely impaired by the stress and sorrow she had endured over the past eight months.”

  Jack sniffled, and Peter abruptly stopped. The younger man’s façade was crumbling.

  “This only gets worse, my friend,” said Peter, sadly. “Remember I told you we share the same hell? I’m quite serious in telling you that.”

  He slipped back into his chair and leaned toward Jack, his shoulders trembling as if he might start bawling again at any moment. “You see...Eileen Northrop was my sister. I was the eighteen-year old uncle at Bobby’s birthday celebration. I was the only one who watched him disappear into that goddamned mist!! I’m still the one who routinely checks up on my niece to make sure she doesn’t take her life when she enters one of her many deep depressions. And I’m the only one who makes sure her grandpa, my dad, the former FBI agent Merten McNamee, doesn’t do the same thing by swallowing the barrel of his service revolver!”

  Peter sighed again and buried his face in his hands, the burden of sorrow far too big for him to carry any further. He broke down and sobbed, no longer caring about how he looked to anyone, either inside or outside the room. He may have remained like this for quite a while, but suddenly he felt a pair of strong hands upon his shoulders.

  “Agent McNamee,” said Jack, just inches above him. “I’ll tell you what you want to know. I’ll tell you everything.”

  PART II

  The Lizard and the Sphere

  “Are you ready?” asked Peter, finding it difficult to contain his eagerness. Since cleaning himself up in the tiny restroom at the end of the interrogation room, he seemed refreshed. Only the red rims around his piercing blue eyes suggested he had recently wept.

  While waiting for Peter to return to the table, Jack spent a few minutes walking around the room. To any observer he would’ve appeared calm, though silently he debated whether he was doing the right thing or not. Once Peter was set to resume their interview, Jack grabbed another Coke from the tiny refrigerator and then joined the agent at the table.

  “Jeremy is going to
kill me for sure once he finds out about this,” said Jack. “But, we still get to check out those books you’ve got. Right?”

  “Absolutely,” said Peter. “Don’t worry about your brother, Jack. I’ll talk with him just as soon as we’re done. All I ask is that you be thorough...very thorough. I want to know every detail, including things you might normally view as unimportant—like your feelings, thoughts, and even your physical surroundings. Describe them all for me. Okay?”

  “I guess I can do that,” said Jack, surprised at the level of detail the agent wanted from him. “Some shit’s pretty personal, though.”

  “Everything, Jack,” Peter repeated. “I do mean everything.”

  “All right,” he agreed, and leaned forward in his chair. Peter did the same, and then Jack told him his story. “It all started on the afternoon of July 27th, 1999, just four days following my thirteenth birthday. My grandfather and I’d just finished lunch, and as I placed my dirty dishes in the kitchen sink, I noticed this weird looking lizard resting on the back porch when I glanced out the kitchen window. I’d never seen this lizard, or another like it, during any of my explorations of our property

  “I told Grandpa about it, but he kept reading his newspaper at the kitchen table. I believe he only half-acknowledged what I said until I told him it looked sort of exotic. At that point, he almost got up to take a look. But the phone rang and he answered it instead. I kept watching the lizard through the kitchen window, hoping it didn’t move from its perch near the steps leading down into the backyard. It sat there motionless, except for an occasional head-twitch and the flicking of its forked tongue.

  “As soon as Grandpa was done talking on the phone, I told him it was still sitting on the porch. ‘Son, you’d be better off just leaving that thing alone, I’m warning you,’ he told me. ‘It could be poisonous for all we know...I wish people’d keep better track of their goddamned pets around here!’

  “‘It’s okay, Grandpa,’ I assured him. ‘I doubt very seriously it’ll bite. Besides, even if it does, I’ll bet it won’t hurt much.’

  “My grandfather frowned and straightened up in his chair at the kitchen table. I remember he stared down thoughtfully into his coffee mug, absently stirring his coffee while he considered what I just said. He might’ve remained lost in his thoughts if it hadn’t been for the sudden creak and slam of the screened door leading out to the back porch. Before he could tell me to stay away from the critter, I was already outside. Peering back through the screen, I caught him smiling at me. He warned me again to be careful.

  “I remember it was really hot that day. With the heat index over a hundred degrees, only the most desperate and foolhardy folks were outdoors right then—like me, I guess. But I just had to get a closer look at the lizard. It remained in the same spot while I moved carefully over to it, eyeing me tentatively from atop the steps. It seemed somewhat fragile and vulnerable, although I could see powerful muscles flexing beneath its green leathery skin, especially along its lower legs, as if it was ready to bolt back down the steps at any moment. The lizard’s back was arched high in a multi-colored fan that ran along its spine, and brilliant hues of purple, red, and orange converged down its sides.

  “Its most unusual feature was a crown of golden spikes and curved horns that adorned its slender head. In fact, if it wasn’t for this crown, the critter could’ve passed for someone’s wayward pet. I’d seen similar lizards on display at Pet World up in Tuscaloosa. However, the closest living thing I’d ever seen to this one was in a picture inside one of Grandpa’s National Geographics. As it was, it reminded me of the colorful dragons depicted in the video games I used to play with Jeremy.

  “The lizard cocked its head warily to one side as it studied me, for I now stood just a few feet away. Its incandescent blue and gray eyes shifted slowly back and forth. I took another step and leaned down toward it, closing the gap between us to a mere foot. Suddenly, it stood up on its hind legs and took a swipe at me with its front claws. I barely escaped the attack, which scared the holy shit out of me and made me stumble backward and land hard on my ass.

  “The little fucker hissed loudly and flashed a mouth full of sharp needle-like teeth at me. I scooted away as quickly as I could while it took a menacing step forward. But then it stopped and retracted its leg. It turned its attention toward the backyard, like it was listening to something—maybe some inaudible command to call off the attack. With a low grunt-like growl, it turned on its hind legs and raced down the porch steps, leaving me staring after it in disbelief.

  “‘Jack!’ Grandpa called to me from the kitchen. ‘Are you all right?’ He moved over to the back door and peered anxiously at me through the screen. For the moment I was sprawled out on the back porch.

  “‘Yeah, I’m fine,’ I told him as I sat up. “That lizard startled me, but it’s long gone now.” Even though I smiled up at him, Grandpa stood quietly while he studied me, frowning again as if trying to decide for his own self what’d truly happened. He finally stepped back from the doorway, chuckling to himself in amusement. As he did so, he reminded me to be careful and not linger outside in the heat.

  “I told him I’d only be outside for a little while, and that I was fixing to go over to the swing since it was in the shade. I waited until his footfalls and the switching on of another floor fan confirmed he’d turned his attention to other tasks inside our old farmhouse. I remember wishing he’d use the air conditioner more often, especially on a day like that one. Aside from the house staying cooler, the kitchen storm door would’ve been closed and Grandpa wouldn’t have known about the recent commotion on the porch. I now had to be very discreet in my pursuit of the lizard, since he’d likely be watching.

  “I stood up and quietly rummaged around the porch searching for something suitable to help me apprehend the critter. I finally settled on using a large steel bait bucket with a retractable lid that I found under some boxes in a corner. I picked it up and carried it over to the porch steps, and then set it down while I decided where to search first.

  “Our backyard spanned for nearly a full acre. Grandpa’d let the lawn deteriorate over the years, and it was badly overgrown in spots—in particular, near some old worn-out appliances to the right of the back porch and near the rusted-out remains of an old pickup truck to the left. The junk seemed sorely out of place if you considered the contrasting beauty provided by the mimosa trees that dotted the yard along with the majestic oak that sat in the middle of everything back there. Then again, I suppose it wasn’t quite so out of place compared to the enormous stone sphere resting near the back wall of the property.”

  “I’ve got a bunch of pictures of that thing, Jack,” said Peter. “They’re also in my attaché case, along with a report from 1989 detailing the sphere’s composition.”

  “Can I see that, too?” Jack was surprised again by this latest revelation.

  “Sure. Just as soon as you’re done with your story. I appreciate the descriptive detail so far.”

  “Thanks, I’ll try to continue that way” said Jack, finding it difficult to focus on that very same story in light of this latest tidbit. “I have to admit it’s all so strange for me, Agent McNamee. Even though this all happened years ago, as I’m telling it to you it’s as if it all just took place yesterday.

  “Anyway, people often wondered about the way Grandpa had the backyard set up. When I was younger, I figured he was trying to create some bizarre work of art with the trees’ beauty and that strange looking globe, along with the yard’s assorted junk. As I got older, I just wished Grandpa’d let us help him clean up the place and remove all that shit once and for all. Supposedly, he’d tried to do that very thing long ago, but couldn’t get it done.

  “Regardless, it certainly made a great hiding place if you were a three-foot long lizard wishing to be left alone. The critter could be anywhere with so many nooks and crannies to hide in. With that in mind, I braced myself for the worst of the summer’s heat and headed down the worn wooden ste
ps into the yard.

  “As soon as I moved a few feet away from the porch, I turned toward the house and scanned the walls, roofs, and gables for any sign of it, shielding my eyes from the sun’s brightness. There was nothing to indicate that it’d climbed the walls or chalices up to the second floor or beyond. The light-blue painted walls and gables revealed no small footprints or claw marks—which I figured they would’ve done, given the heat and the fact they’d been painted less than two months before.

  “I stood there, dripping sweat while trying to decide if the lizard might’ve jumped up on the roof. Then I remembered how it behaved on the porch when I first saw it. At the time, it seemed to enjoy not being out in the burning sun. If anything, I figured it’d try to find some place where it could stay cool.

  “I walked over to the wooden lattice that surrounded the porch and peered through its holes. I figured this would be a great place to hide, since it was sheltered from the sun and had an abundance of spiders and insects for the lizard to eat. However, the lattice was still intact, without any sign it’d been disturbed by anything.

  “By then, my shorts and T-shirt were getting pretty damp from sweat. Shielding my eyes once more from the sun’s intensity, I moved over to the pickup’s sun-baked remains, knowing I didn’t have long before I became totally drenched. The grass and weeds grew tall around the faded red vehicle, which still sat on the very same cinder blocks from when it was condemned to the backyard many years before. All four tires had long since been removed and most of the truck’s body was devoured by rust. The windshield had been broken by an errant fly ball off my brother’s bat during a neighborhood game of baseball two summers earlier, and most of the glass was still lying in shard fragments on the torn vinyl front seat.