The Golden Talisman

by J. Stefan Jackson

  “Grandpa told me later he couldn’t help but smile at this, and laid his hand on Jeremy’s shoulder, which was another thing that would’ve been impossible to do up until then. Rather than flinch like he normally would, Jeremy seemed at ease as he returned Grandpa’s smile.

  “‘Hm-m-m. 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 story of my own that should add to and support his account.’

  “‘I’m looking forward to hearing it,’ said Jeremy, ‘ and 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. ‘Want 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?’

  “‘That’s cool with me,’ my brother agreed. ‘What time are we going to check out the place Jack went yesterday, or are we still planning to do that today?’

  “‘We are. I thought just before lunchtime would be good, and I’ll pack us a decent meal to take with us. Sound good to you?’

  “‘Sounds good.’

  “Grandpa finished preparing breakfast for them. After they’d eaten, Jeremy went upstairs to get ready for the day. I continued to sleep soundly through all of this, while Grandpa began work on getting our lunch together. 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 were going to sleep all day, Sleeping Beauty!’

  “I looked up. He stood over me, smiling in amusement.

  “‘Well?? Get up, Jackie boy! Your cereal’s on the table and your clothes are laid out on the sofa!’

  “I sat up and stretched while I rubbed 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. Once I finished my business in the bathroom I moved over to the kitchen. I plopped down into my chair before the usual row of cereal boxes, slowly pouring myself some corn flakes and milk in the bowl set in front of me.

  “‘Good morning, Jack! Looks like you finally got a good night’s rest, even 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 was really looking forward to this. After I was done with breakfast, I got myself ready for the day, wishing the whole time there was some way to 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 while his lighter was 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 he technically was 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 was being cordial to me, which allowed my fantasy of a new and improved older brother to continue. ‘Actually, I was hoping we could do this some other time.’

  “‘Well, 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 from the day before. I never told him about my experience with Genovene, but here 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 goddamn sure, Jackie! Not even if she offered me a million bucks...although, 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 ordered us. ‘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 old, with the 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 Road.

  “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 asked Grandpa if it was the same river I saw the previous day.

  “‘Yes it is, son,’ he said. ‘I know you’re familiar with other portions of it, since it’s part of the Tombigbee River. This portion, however, was once confused with the Black Warrior River years ago—same as the rest of the river up north of us. The Tombigbee travels a huge distance from northern Mississippi to the southern-most reaches of Alabama. From there it feeds the Mobile River that empties directly into the Gulf of Mexico.

  “‘The road here used to follow the river from Tuscaloosa on through Carlsdale as it headed south. A host of other little townships once used this road as a major thoroughfare, but due to modern developments the road no longer extends past Carlsdale. 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 all the charred timber.’

  “‘Are you sure you want to do this, Grandpa?’ I asked once 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 and gave me another wink.

  “‘Yeah, I guess so, Grandpa,’ I said. ‘I can’t hel
p 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 as Jeremy whistled under his own. 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, this 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.’

  “Me and Jeremy looked at each other, raising our eyebrows 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 us 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 while turning his attention back to the road ahead of us. ‘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, though. 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.”

  “I immediately felt a cold shudder run through me. The bridge sat in the exact same spot as the one that’d been there the previous day. Granted, it was an old rickety log structure, but the fact a bridge of any kind sat there was disturbing. I glanced a short distance down from the bridge to see if the willow was still there. 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 Jeep to get our supplies.

  “Each of us grabbed a backpack, and Grandpa gave Jeremy the cooler to carry. Once we were 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 then the three of us headed for the bridge.

  “‘Be careful, boys!’ Grandpa cautioned. ‘The bridge should support us well enough, but y’all 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 stepped on to follow closely. Along the way, I looked down into the deep water beneath us through gaps in the flimsy wooden floor of the bridge. I was thankful these spaces weren’t large enough to fall through. But as the old bridge creaked and moaned in protest with each step we took, I became nervous.

  “Once we stood on the other side of the Tombigbee River, I couldn’t believe the dramatic change in the area’s landscape 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 wooded area before us seemed to stretch for several miles—all the way up to the nearby town of Paxton, according to Grandpa. It looked like a totally different place. The only similarity that remained 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 were lying on the ground throughout the area and most of them were at least 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 was leading the way by then, and since I was really curious about these buildings, I ran toward them to get a better look. They were made almost entirely of stone, except for the splintered fragments of wooden doors and shutters. There were also the frayed remains of the wooden crossbeams that hung down from the open rooftops of each structure.

  “Suddenly, I was forced to grab and pinch my nose as the area began to stink 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 for a moment. ‘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’ till 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 weren’t doing it 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. Then, he looked back at the fort ruins, chuckling 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 far-west edge of the clearing, still chuckling to himself. Me and Jeremy followed him and were soon greeted by the gurgling and swishing noises of water boiling nearby, accompanied by a small cloud of steam rising up 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 even 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 sh
ow y’all something.’

  “We climbed the dark-gray rocks and once 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 was pretty loud from up there. The small cloud of steam hovered just in front and above the slab beneath it, sending out mist-like tendrils toward us. I turned to watch these vapor fragments rise higher into the air before they dissipated completely, some twenty feet above the formation.

  “The smell was nearly unbearable, even though Jeremy and I were pinching our noses as tightly as we could. Grandpa, on the other hand, seemed for the most part unaffected by the smell and was soon ready to continue as our tour guide.

  “‘Boys, you’ll need to be extremely careful,’ he warned us. ‘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, while we did likewise. Peering through the rising steam, we saw the boiling pool of water 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 downward until it emptied into another much larger pool. Steam rose from the larger pool as well, but it didn’t appear to boil from where we sat.

  “‘The Indians, both ancient and more recent up until a hundred and eighty years ago, spent a great deal of time here,’ explained 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.’