The Golden Talisman

by J. Stefan Jackson

  “Once I was within a few feet of the truck, I got down on my knees to try and get a good view of the pickup’s undercarriage. I could hardly see through the undergrowth that engulfed the bottom of the truck. I briefly considered reaching my hands underneath the pickup until I remembered the lizard’s mouth was full of pointed sharp teeth.

  “Thinking it might be there, I decided to eliminate other possible hiding places first. I stood up and leaned closer to the pickup, peering carefully through the driver-side window. From the undisturbed dirt and cobwebs covering the inside of the cab, I could tell the lizard hadn’t been there. Next, I scanned the twisted branches of a fairly large mimosa that stood next to the pickup. The tree was filled with swallowtail butterflies coupling as they flew through the air near bloom clusters that populated the tree’s upper branches. The critter wasn’t up in the tree either, but I wondered for a moment if the damned thing had chameleon characteristics and could blend in with its environment.

  “Debating where to look next, I decided for the time being to walk over to the tire-swing that hung from our giant oak. That’s when I heard a noticeable ‘clank’ and rustling sound coming from the pile of broken appliances sitting nearby. Immediately, my heart raced and pounded heavily in my chest. The skin on my neck and arms turned cool as I felt the gooseflesh rise. A moment before I was overwhelmed by heat and now, suddenly, I felt cold and clammy. Something sifted ferociously through the tall grass and weeds surrounding an old washing machine and the strewn-about guts of a discarded television set.

  “I moved cautiously up to the washer, worried that the bait container wouldn’t be enough to protect me. I noticed a deflated soccer ball a short distance to my left, and silently hurried over to it, ever mindful to keep an eye on the machine. I picked up the flattened ball and moved in closer to the raucous, holding the ball near my head so that it was ready to be launched.

  “The disturbance grew steadily more violent the closer I came to the junk pile. Expecting to see the lizard in a highly agitated rage, I prepared myself for the worst. My hand holding the soccer ball wavered noticeably just as I reached the washer.

  “Its weathered door sat slightly ajar from when it was pushed open a moment ago. The machine itself was lying on its side and the invader had managed to climb inside, the hollow pounding on the washer’s sides easily giving its exact location away. I bent over silently and threw open the door. The startled animal came barreling out, revealing its dark frightened eyes and small horns as it headed straight for me.

  “I gasped and fell on my ass for the second time that afternoon. Fortunately for me, the menace lurking within the old washer was none other than Banjo, my grandfather’s billy goat. At first I thought he was going to bite me, his teeth bared as meanly as any farm critter could possibly do. Banjo’d been oblivious to my presence until I threw open the washing machine’s door. As soon as he recognized me, he tentatively approached and started eagerly licking me on my arms and legs.

  “I remember scolding him as I returned his affections, but I felt a wave of relief rush over me since it hadn’t been the lizard leaping toward me. It made me pause and think seriously about spending the rest of that steamy afternoon in the better comfort and safety of our house.

  “‘Have you seen any three foot lizards out here, Banjo?’ I asked him. He whimpered slightly in response to my question, though I’m sure he had absolutely no idea what I was talking about. Knowing Banjo’s tendency toward skittishness, I figured he’d have been more than content to remain inside the washer if he could have.

  “He continued to caress my hand with the rough edge of his tongue. Banjo’s fur was black with brown splotches on his back and sides, and at that moment all of it was glistening. The heat was getting to him, too, perhaps even more than it was getting to me. I figured he was trying to find a cool refuge when I startled him. He whimpered softly again and looked directly up into my face, pleading for me to lead us both out of the sweltering sauna we were presently standing in. I took him with me over to the oak’s shade, deciding to forego looking for the lizard anymore.

  “I don’t know if you’ve ever seen any pictures of it, Agent McNamee, but our oak tree was truly magnificent. Grandpa once told me it’d been there long before the farmhouse was built, and that’d been roughly a hundred and seventy years before, as I’m sure you know. The tree’s long branches rose to dizzying heights, and if anyone stood directly below them while leaning their head back as far as they could without falling over, the upward view would momentarily take their breath away.

  “Banjo and I walked together into the cool shade provided by the oak’s thick foliage. Although the air was still muggy, the temperature seemed much cooler here. Banjo was relieved as much as I was and trotted over to a half-empty bowl of water near the oak’s trunk.

  “A thirty-foot ladder made of small boards nailed into the tree’s trunk led up to a wooden tree house that sat within a large cluster of branches. One particularly thick branch protruded out from the tree house, and from it hung an old tire swing. I walked over to the swing, and then set the deflated soccer ball and bait container on the near-barren ground surrounding the oak tree’s trunk and climbed up into the tire.

  “After a casual glance back toward the pickup truck and our house behind it, I was soon flying through the air. My damp clothes pressed against my skin and my hair blew back away from my forehead. I’d finally found some relief from the heat, feeling I might stay outside a bit longer than originally planned.

  “Riding the swing, I had an excellent view of the Palmer’s place off to the right and a pretty good view of the Johnson’s farm over to the left of the yard. An old stone wall just over six feet in height completely enclosed the backyard, and the back portions of all three properties were only accessible by a seldom-used dirt frontage road. That’s why very few folks ever saw the sphere at the rear of our property.

  “As I’m sure you’d agree, it was definitely an oddity. I believe the sphere was nearly fifteen feet in diameter. It dwarfed the wall and wrought-iron gate in front of it. None of us had any idea what it was made of. But the report you’ve got should answer that question, I’m sure. I remember its texture was very smooth, much like finely sanded marble or limestone, and its color was off-white, almost like a fresh chicken egg.

  “They say the sphere drew some attention twelve years earlier. I was too young to remember, but the local folks in Carlsdale sometimes talked about the government scientists who made routine visits to our home to study the peculiar object in our backyard for almost six months. You’re probably aware that for awhile they examined the sphere daily, often leaving it hooked up to various monitoring devices and using solvents in minute amounts to determine its exact chemical composition.

  “Eventually, my grandfather grew tired of all the attention and lack of privacy. Somehow, he managed to get NASA to agree to take the sphere away from us. Since he was tight-lipped about this for years, I had to rely on the local rumor mill in Carlsdale to first learn what happened, and why the sphere was still there many years later.

  “According to rumor, Grandpa arranged for some folks from NASA to come and carry the sphere back with them to Houston. In an effort to help out, he’d enlisted the assistance of a good friend of his who owned a construction outfit in nearby Demopolis. This friend brought with him a small team of men, along with a large loader, two tractors, and an industrial crane. The NASA people then arrived with a van and what looked to be a large specially designed semi-truck.

  “The workers from Demopolis and the NASA crew worked together to secure a special net around the sphere, in order to lift it safely over the back wall. The loader was ready and waiting just on the other side of the wall, along with all the other vehicles and a hundred or so onlookers. The workers finally secured the net around the sphere and were ready to hoist it up, when a black limousine suddenly came flying up the frontage road toward the work site. Everyone stopped to watch the approaching vehicle until it screeched to
a halt a few feet away from NASA’s semi-truck.

  “The driver of the limo rolled down his window and motioned for the leader of the NASA group to step over to the driver side of the car. Once the leader reached the car, the rear passenger window also rolled down and the driver motioned for the man to go on back to the window. Apparently he recognized the back seat’s occupant, and after conversing with whoever it was for a minute or two, he returned to the group while the limo turned around and raced back down the frontage road to where it came from.

  “The leader first addressed his NASA associates, and they immediately climbed back over the wall to remove the net from the sphere. The man then walked over to Grandpa and his friend from Demopolis. The three men engaged in a heated discussion that lasted several minutes, after which the leader of the NASA group backed away from Grandpa and his buddy, all the while motioning for them to calm down and take it easy.

  “It was said that everyone present looked on in disbelief as the NASA van and truck backed down the frontage road, leaving the sphere still sitting in front of the backyard gate. After the last cloud of dust settled, they all disbanded and left my grandfather alone to assist his friend from Demopolis in packing up the construction gear.

  “The event was eventually forgotten by most folks, as was the sphere in our backyard.”

  “Well, I can honestly say you should find the report I’ve brought very interesting indeed,” Peter told him before taking a good-sized drink from his second cup of coffee. Jack took the opportunity to take a drink from his Coke as well. “Not meaning to distract you from your train of thought, but I want to reassure you that despite my awareness of your family’s history, I’m totally enthralled by what you’re telling me here. So, continue like you are, Jack. This is great.”

  “All right, then,” said Jack. “I remember looking toward the sphere while I thought about this NASA stuff. The top of it was bathed in the sun’s bright light, while its lower half was mostly shadowed. Nothing but bare earth surrounded the sphere. Even the hardiest and most stubborn weeds refused to grow anywhere near it.

  “As I flew higher through the air on the swing, I lifted my gaze past the sphere and over to the area just beyond the backyard. The frontage road was overrun with tall grass and weeds, as was the field that lay on the other side of the road. From there, the terrain sloped steadily upward to a thick wooded hillside less than an acre away. Back then, the hillside was filled with towering pines, elms, and oaks. It was like looking at your very own private forest. Since these trees hadn’t been raped by the lumber industry, many were nearly as tall as the very tree I swung from.

  “I remember feeling strangely at peace as I admired the forest’s pristine beauty. By then my damp clothes had dried some, and I became aware of a fairly large object bulging from my shorts’ pocket. It startled me, and I reached down into my pocket, being careful to maintain a secure grip on the swing while I pulled out a ring sucker. I’d purchased the item that morning while at the local barbershop with Grandpa. The sucker was still in its wrapper and originally resembled a giant ruby ring, though it was now quite misshapen.

  “Even in the shade, the prism-like candy glistened within its plastic wrapper. Being thirteen and all, I imagined the sucker taunting me to open the wrapper and pull it out—like a challenge to see if I could do that without the damned thing slipping out of my grasp in the process. For some reason, this made me think of the lizard. I immediately felt depressed. I glanced back toward our house and where I’d searched earlier, but there was still no sign of it. I was now convinced it’d left our yard.

  “I decided right then to go back inside the house. I slowed the swing down, disappointed the colorful little bastard failed to reappear. I would’ve liked to capture and detain it, at least long enough to impress Jeremy. Instead, I’d have to settle for a mere description of it, which would certainly be greeted with either cold skepticism or ridicule, depending on my brother’s mood.

  “I scanned the backyard one last time as the swing continued to slow down. I wondered which of my neighbors were now host to the elusive critter. I glanced over the wall to my right into the Palmer’s yard. Despite the fact I didn’t care for them much, I felt sad I wouldn’t be able to steal a peek into their yard much longer. Within the next two weeks, the plan was for me to move in with my Uncle Monty and Aunt Martha in Tuscaloosa. I was fond of my aunt and uncle, but I truly hated the idea of leaving Carlsdale. Completely hated it. Yet, the opportunity to attend St. Andrews Academy, one of the finest schools in Alabama, was something I couldn’t pass up.

  “Grandpa was unreceptive to the thought of me moving away as well, even though I’d be living with his brother and sister-in-law, just an hour away. He finally warmed up to the idea after I assured him that I’d come back to visit almost every weekend. There really wasn’t much choice in the matter, since there weren’t any other schools in the immediate area offering the same educational opportunity as St. Andrews.

  “The swing stopped moving, with me gazing absently into the prism of the wrapped, melted sucker held tightly in my hand. A wave of nostalgia swept over me as I realized things would never be the same for me. I‘d sorely miss my grandfather and even Jeremy quite a bit, despite the fact I’d still see them on a regular basis. But, that was the point of it. I’d soon be a visitor to the place I’d called home for as long as I could remember.

  “My parents mysteriously vanished without a trace one summer afternoon just before my first birthday. Jeremy remembered them a little, but his memories were becoming like faded snapshots. As for me, I didn’t remember them at all. Much of what either of us had to go by came from some photographs and letters to our grandparents. The rest came from the stories Grandpa told us concerning our folks—that, and the local rumor mill in Carlsdale.

  “Much of the information we heard about our mom and dad, Frank and Julie Kenney—in case you didn’t know their first names, Agent McNamee—was positive in nature. Mostly, these were stories involving only our mom. There were other stories concerning our folks that weren’t so good. These stories came mainly in the form of whispers behind our backs, which we’d only catch bits and pieces of now and then. This was especially true whenever we accompanied Grandpa into downtown Carlsdale, which at the time consisted of a grocery store, post office, barber shop, two gas stations, and a local branch of the First Alabama National Bank. These stories were dark in nature, and dealt with our ancestral home and the sphere in our backyard. Apparently, Dad and Mom’s disappearance and the sudden appearance of the sphere happened at roughly the same time.

  “What I gathered from these stories was that in June of 1987, my mom and dad brought Jeremy and I with them to Carlsdale from Atlanta to spend a couple of weeks with my grandparents. Something went terribly wrong, though, and a week and a half after our arrival in Carlsdale, my folks were officially listed as missing. The only noteworthy clue concerning their disappearance was that peculiar sphere in the backyard, which turned out to be not much of a clue at all.

  “I remember when I was little, I would spend many afternoons and evenings in the tree house, armed with my toy binoculars. I’d aim them out toward the woods looking for any sign of my parents’ return home, because that’s the last place anyone saw them alive, as they headed out through the back gate with a picnic basket. When I got older, I’d still find myself looking out through my upstairs bedroom window from time to time. Often, I’d do this during late fall and on into the early winter months, when the oak’s leaves were completely gone and I had a clearer view of the woods.

  “I would’ve ventured out into the woods long ago myself, but Grandpa absolutely wouldn’t allow it, saying he wasn’t about to lose anyone else out there. Jeremy managed to sneak out once, but he didn’t even make it to the woods. He made it half way through the field and came scurrying back, practically landing on his face as he climbed onto the back wall and dived haphazardly into the safety of the backyard. He told me he’d almost stepped on a copperhead an
d felt something else slither close behind him, and wasn’t about to stick around and get bitten.

  “I was thinking about all this shit when a sudden breeze picked up and circled all around me, bringing me immediately back to the present. The breeze was strong enough to gently push the swing back and forth, but the real strength of the wind was moving through the upper branches of the oak tree. I turned my head upward, fascinated for the moment by the rising and falling sounds from the wind as it weaved its way through the branches, bending them and rustling the leaves like a conductor directing a symphony orchestra.

  “As I allowed myself to get caught up in the wonder of this experience, I suddenly heard a low growling noise coming from directly below me. I jerked my head downward to face the direction the sound was coming from, awkwardly pulling the tire-swing in the process. The lizard had come out of hiding and was glaring menacingly up at me just a foot or so away from my feet! It crept closer to within a few inches of my toes, baring its needle-like teeth again. Even through my youthful naiveté, I could tell the little fucker was getting ready to bite me.

  “Without wasting another breath, I pulled my feet up and scrambled on top of the tire. I began climbing the rope of the swing, and lifted myself another six feet above the ground in a matter of seconds. Undeterred, the little monster jumped onto the swing, locking its claws on the tire’s sides, its sharp talons puncturing holes through each side of the tire as it pursued me.

  “By now, I’d seen enough to realize I was in grave danger, and I thoroughly regretted ever pursuing the mother fucker to begin with. I climbed even higher and before long approached the large branch that held the swing’s rope. I looked down to see the lizard scale the rest of the swing and wrap one claw around the rope. As if sensing the difficult task it’d face by climbing the rope, it stopped to look up at me and then glanced over at the step boards nailed to the oak tree’s trunk. The lizard then looked back up at me, eyeing me in such a way as if to let me know it intended to scale the tree in order to get me, if need be.