Southern House

by Mark Deloy

  Then I went to the other half of the store, which sold the food. I grabbed a fifty-pound bag of dog food and a large plastic tub to keep it in. With Girl taken care of, I piled my buggy high with food, much of it frozen, but I got a few things to make some meals myself, specifically lasagna noodles and everything I’d need to make it, some chicken and stuff to create chicken parmesan and everything to make spaghetti and fettuccini Alfredo. If I was going to eat like this, one thing was for certain; I was going to have to get some exercise somewhere.

  The last things I bought were some ice cream for me, Rocky Road, and some Beggin’ Strips for Girl. I was shocked when the bill came to just over five hundred dollars, but I guess that made sense with all the movies I’d bought. I paid using my debit card that had come in the mail yesterday and pushed my haul back to the truck.

  Girl was laid out in the back. She didn’t get up, but her tail thumped loudly against the wheel well when she heard me coming.

  “Lazy puppy,” I teased as I put the bags in the back near the cab. I dug in the bag that had Girl’s treats in it and tore them open.

  “Here, I’ll bet you’ll like these,” I said holding three of them in my hand. She gobbled them up, leaving my palm wet. I rubbed my hand on my pants and then patted her side. “Good, girl. Let’s go home.”

  As we drove past Jim’s church, I noticed his van in the parking lot. Normally, I would have stopped, but it was pretty warm out and I didn’t want my ice cream to melt. I’d go down to the tent early tonight and chat with him a bit to make up for my inhospitality last night.

  I got home and put everything away. I had to clean out a lot of the old food; some of it had been in the cabinets for years and was badly out of date. I’d filled up three trash bags by the time I was done. I’d have to make a run to the dump tomorrow. When I filled the cabinets and the fridge back up, the place felt considerably homier. Girl got a large bowl of food and another treat and I made myself a turkey sandwich and some Doritos, and washed it all down with some Pepsi.

  After lunch, I hooked up the Blue-Ray player and put in Expendables Three. I spent the next two hours with Stallone and the boys as they fought the good fight.

  When the movie finished, I took a shower and got ready for the revival. When I was getting ready, I realized I hadn’t thought about my late night visitor for the past few hours, which, of course, ruined my streak of good thoughts.

  I heard a knock on my door as I was tying my shoes. I hadn’t heard anyone pull up, and Girl never even barked until the knock came. I saw Jim’s smiling face through the glass and opened the door.

  “Hey, Brother,” Jim said.

  “Hi, Jim. I didn’t hear you pull up.”

  “I have the wife’s Prius. Half the time I can’t even tell the thing is on. You coming to the meeting tonight? We missed you last night.”

  “Yup, I am. I planned to help you set up, if that’s alright?”

  “Sure thing. Mind if we drive your truck down? I borrowed a few more chairs from the co-op. They are in the back of the wife’s car, but I’m not sure it would make it down there and back.”

  “No problem,” I laughed. “I’ll load them up for you.”

  “Thanks,” he said.

  We unloaded the six or seven folding chairs out of the Prius and placed them in the back of my truck.

  “Just a sec,” Jim said. “Gotta’ get my Bible.” He grabbed it from the front seat and then got in my truck. We rode down to the tent and parked near the front entrance. Jim went in first and I heard him gasp and the chairs he was holding dropped to the ground. I knew before I entered what was wrong. I hadn’t even thought to check the tent this morning. After all, the creature who had redecorated my back patio was lurking around in the tent before he came up to the house.

  I dropped the chairs I was holding as well and rushed inside. On the inside wall of the tent were a number of symbols I’d never seen before, drawn in animal blood. Some of them looked like writing, and some just looked like odd geometric shapes. They covered an area about ten square feet.

  “What is it?” Jim asked. “Who would have done this?”

  “I don’t know,” I lied. “It looks like some kind of writing, but nothing like I’ve ever seen before.”

  “I’ll have to cancel tonight’s services,” he said, running a hand through his hair. I could see his eyes beginning to tear up.

  “No we don’t,” I said. “It’s probably just some kids playing a prank. I’ve got some Clorox and a scrub brush up at the house. We can get this cleaned up and no one will ever have to see it.”

  “Alright,” Jim agreed, hesitantly. “We can try.”

  I drove back to the house and got my cleaning supplies and a couple pairs of rubber gloves Granny had under the sink. When I returned, Jim was looking at the symbols, running his hand across them, as if trying to decipher them. I tried to remember if what was on my back wall had looked like symbols or letters, or resembled this in any way, but it had just looked like blotches and streaks to me. The monster must have been in more of a hurry by the time he’d gotten to my back patio, though. He knew the barking had alerted me, so he probably had to settle for flicking bunny blood, instead of writing something like this.

  The crimson gore came off surprisingly easy from the smooth canvas. We were finished a few minutes later and there weren’t even any pink streaks left over, like I had on the house.

  “Many hands make light work,” Jim said. “Thank you, Hick. You saved the day.”

  “No problem at all. I’ll go get the rest of the chairs.”

  We had everything set up with plenty of time to spare. I’d planned on eating before the meeting.

  “Hey, do you want to go up to the house with me and split a frozen pizza?”

  “I ate right before I came,” Jim said. “But I’ll go for the company. We should be okay on the time.”

  I looked at my watch. The first cars would be arriving in about forty-five minutes. I’d have to hurry, but if I ate fast, we’d be fine.

  We drove back up to the house and traded theories back and forth about who might have vandalized the tent. I, of course, kept quiet about the twelve- foot- tall monster. Later, I’d regret that decision. It might have saved some lives.

  15

  The weatherman said the night was supposed to be a cool one. The clouds that had been around for the better part of the day had dissipated and as the sun went down, the temperature dropped.

  Jim ended up having a slice of my Tombstone pizza after all, and we talked about what his sermon was going to be about tonight. He planned on preaching about Daniel and his faith in God. I listened and nodded, but my mind was pondering what the marks on my house and the tent might mean and what that creature could possibly be. I wanted to talk to Jim about it, but no one in their right mind would believe something like that unless they saw it for themselves.

  The first car pulled into my driveway and past the gate a few minutes later.

  “Guess that’s my cue,” he said, getting up.

  “Okay, let me grab my keys.” I said ‘bye to Girl and followed Jim out to the truck. Another car had pulled in behind us and as I looked in my rearview I saw it was Lisa, the reporter from the other night. I gave a little wave and saw her smile and wave back.

  We rolled past the parking lot, pulled up to the tent and parked next to it. Lisa pulled in next to us.

  “Is it alright if I park here, too?” she asked. “I have my camera equipment and don’t feel like lugging it across the field.”

  “Sure,” I said. “No problem.”

  The back door opened and a little boy got out. Lisa waved him over and put her hand on his shoulder.

  “Connor, this is Mr. Grimble and Reverend Burnside. Can you say hello?”

  “Hi,” he said shyly, and then hid behind his mother’s leg.

  “You can call me Hickory,” I said, holding out my hand. He didn’t take it, but smiled and repeated my name back as if tasting it in his mouth.

>   “Hickory?” he asked. “Like the nut?’

  “You got it big guy. Like the nut. You’re pretty smart for just six.”

  “How’d you know I was six?” he asked, getting braver now.

  “Your momma told me.”

  He nodded, but said no more.

  “He’s a bit shy, I’m afraid,” Lisa said. “I have no idea where he gets that from.”

  She knelt down in front of him.

  “Hey, buddy. Are you going to play with the other kids in the back, like a big boy?”

  “Will they have games?” Connor asked.

  “Yes, I think so,” Lisa said. “Only one way to find out.”

  “Okay, yeah,” he said.

  “I don’t think Carly Bennett has arrived yet,” Jim said. “She’s our youth leader and babysits the children during the meetings. It won’t be long, though. And yes, she plays lots of games.”

  “Glad you could both make it,” I said to Lisa when Jim walked away to finish setting up.

  “Thanks. We were here last night, too. My editor liked yesterday’s story so much he wanted me to make it a week- long segment.”

  “That’s great,” I enthused. Do you happen to have a copy of your paper? I forgot to pick one up when I went to town.”

  Lisa smiled, obviously flattered someone took interest in her work. I wasn’t actually trying to flirt, it was just happening naturally. It was good to know I hadn’t forgotten how.

  “Sure,” she said and reached in her driver’s side window. She had a copy of the Buffalo River Review . “You might not have found it if you were in Centerville. This is actually Linden’s local rag.”

  “Thanks,” I said and looked through the article, complete with some of her pictures. It was a good story and definitely shone a positive light on the revival. “This is really good.”

  I handed it back to her when I was finished, but she waved me off.

  “Keep it, I have several at home,” she smiled.

  More people arrived, including Carly Bennett, who rounded up all the kids and took them out the back of the tent. We could still see them through the open back flap. Connor looked hesitant at first, but after a few minutes, he was running and playing with all of the other kids.

  The ushers found seats for most of the people who arrived, but it was indeed a packed house. Jim walked around, talking to as many people as he could personally, shaking hands and giving hugs. He was enjoying this, and I was happy for him. Hopefully this would give the church the boost it needed to get back on its feet, as well as bring in quite a few new members.

  Jim preached for an hour, discussing David, first from his early years as a shepherd who slew Goliath, then as a king who never lost his faith in God. It was a very good sermon and even though I’d never been a fan of organized religion, I enjoyed the history of it quite a bit.

  Jim had finished the sermon and was preparing to begin the worship service when the screaming started. At first, I thought it was part of some game, but the children’s screams were shrill and terrifying. They came from the back of the tent. I looked through the opening and I could see several children running in different directions, crying and screaming for their mothers. One fell down, looked back and then got up and started running again. Several parents, Lisa included, rushed to the opening to find their kids. It had gotten dark, so I couldn’t see much and then, with all of the parents running toward the opening, I could see even less. I tried to make my way over, but there were too many people trying to see what was going on. Then there were more screams, and shouts from those at the front of the crowd.

  I heard several people in front of me say Carly Bennett’s name, but couldn’t make out what they were talking about. Was she hurt, was one of the children? I just couldn’t tell.

  “Someone call 911!” someone shouted, but I knew that was futile, since there was no cell service.

  “What is it? What’s wrong?” I asked. “I can go to the house and use my phone to call,” I yelled, but I didn’t think anyone was paying me any attention. They were all trying to dial out on their useless cell phones.

  I finally made my way to where Jim was standing. And he parted the crowd like Moses. I didn’t see Lisa, but I heard her screaming for Connor.

  We made it to the opening and everyone had spilled out onto the field. There was mass confusion as parents tried to find their children. I saw someone lying in the grass. Three men were surrounding the body and it didn’t appear to be moving. When Jim and I rushed over, we could see it was Carly Bennett. One man next to me turned away and threw up in the grass.

  She was lying face up. Her eyes were open and so was her mouth, which was rimmed with blood. Her head had nearly been severed. The ragged gash spurted in several places and the ground around her was covered in blood, soaking into the hay, turning it red. I could see her white vertebrae through the torn muscle and gristle. The wet bones glistened in the moonlight. Jim just stared at the girl’s ruined form, either hypnotized, or unable to believe what was happening. Carly was still alive, but wouldn’t be for long. I could see her chest trying to draw breath through her severed neck. Her heart was pumping out the last of its life onto my cursed ground. Jim knelt down, took her hand and started praying. I couldn’t hear whether he was asking for healing, or for her suffering to end.

  “Get to the house,” Jim said, never taking his eyes off what was left of the young woman. “Call the police and an ambulance.”

  I rushed off, digging in my pocket for my keys. Luckily I wasn’t blocked in. Behind me I could hear several parents still screaming for their children. I saw Lisa in my rear view mirror guiding her son to her car, probably trying to block him from seeing Carly.

  I reached the house in just a few seconds and rushed inside. I dialed 911 and was connected to an operator who took my location and then took an agonizingly long time taking my description of what happened. When I complained, she said units were already on route to my location, which calmed me a little. I finished my account of what I’d seen and hung up. A police car was pulling in as I came back outside. He sped down my driveway and through the gate heading for the tent. I followed him and saw an ambulance in my rearview just pulling into the driveway.

  The ambulance passed me and I pulled in just behind them.

  I ran through the tent, which was now deserted. Everyone had assembled in the back. There were several people screaming and crying, huddled in small groups for support. I didn’t see Lisa anywhere, but Jim was where I’d left him, praying over Carly Bennett’s body. He was crying and praying. The officer and the EMTs nudged him out of the way and began examining the body, which was now clearly dead.

  After just a second, three women and two men rushed over to the cop and began talking all at once. He was waving his hands, trying to get them to calm down, but they were in hysterics. It was total chaos everywhere I looked. I pulled Jim aside.

  “What the hell happened to Carly? What’s going on?”

  “An animal maybe. It killed Carly and took three children. A mountain lion maybe, I don’t know.”

  “Did anyone see anything?” I asked.

  “I’m not sure. That poor sweet girl is dead. Oh my dear God,” Jim moaned and covered his face with his hands and wept.

  I led him over to the tent and grabbed one of the chairs from inside.

  “Here, sit,“ I urged, and guided him into the seat. “I don’t understand. Everything was fine, and then everyone just started screaming. How could an animal take three kids like that?”

  “I don’t know, I just don’t know. Maybe it was a pack or something,” he sobbed. I could tell he was in shock. His face was pale and ashy, and his eyes were wide. He just kept shaking his head as if he refused to believe the reality of the situation. I thought about the coyotes I heard howling the other night, but, deep down, I knew what did this.

  The cop rushed past us. He was yelling into the handheld mic on his shoulder.

  “More units, yes, we need everyone out to th
e old Grimble farm. We’ve got three kids missing. I need everyone, now. Bring flashlights, as many as you can find at the station.” Then he turned to the crowd of people. “I need men to help us search for those kids. As many people as we can get. We need to fan out, cover the fields. When my men get here with the flashlights we’ll go into the woods. Yell out if you see anything. “

  Jim and I rose and walked over to where the deputy was organizing people. I was glad someone was taking charge.

  “Reverend,” the officer acknowledged Jim when he saw him. “We have three children missing, two girls and a boy, ages seven six and eight. Did you see anything?”

  “No,” Jim said. “I was preaching, or wrapping up my sermon, I think. My back was to the opening.”

  “It seems no one did. I’ll question the kids later, but right now, my main priority is finding those kids, now, tonight. We can sort out what happened later, when they’re safe. Okay, everyone spread out, some of you get down by the tree line and some walk the middle.”

  “That’s Jensen Pratt,” Jim said to me, absently. “He’s the sheriff. Good man. He’ll find those kids.”

  “I hope so, Jim. Please, God, I hope so.”

  We spread out as instructed and walked in a line. It was very dark even with the flashlights. I thought about going back to the house for my large spotlight I’d bought the other day, but didn’t want to take the time. Shortly after we began our march through the field, four more patrol cars pulled up, bathing the tent with blue and red lights. Pratt instructed them to position themselves to the fronts of their cars faced the fields and to turn on their high beams. That helped a lot. We could see the back half of field number two. As we reached the end of the second field and filed through the opening to the third, Pratt instructed the officers to go back, get their cars and drive them up to the opening, which illuminated the third field.

  No one yelled out to indicate they found anything, not even a footprint, although I was sure there were plenty of mine and Girl’s in the fields. Apparently no one thought they were important enough to raise an alarm over. Either that or everyone was looking for animal tracks.