The Legend of Annie Murphy

by Frank Peretti

  Mac closed one eye and held out his thumb at arm’s length, sighting the end of his thumb against the cliffs beyond. “Looking at the cliffs this way, I can pretend my thumb is a chisel, and I can etch out the likeness of a weeping woman on a two-dimensional surface.” He laughed at his own amazement. “Imagine Annie’s chisel the size of a major earth-moving machine, digging away at those cliffs over there!”

  “But surely someone would see it happening!”

  Dr. Cooper exclaimed.

  Mac had to think about that one. “Oh . . . I’m sure they’d see rocks and debris falling from the cliff, but you have to remember, Annie was reaching into our world from outside time and space. To anyone who did see her, she was nothing more than a vague, flat image, wavering, ghostlike. It would have been easy for her to hide while she did the work.” He shook his head, marveling. “It’s almost impossible to imagine what it would be like to live outside time and space, to be able to see across time, reach across space, as if they weren’t there.”

  “Sounds like something God does every day,” said Dr. Cooper, reflecting on it. “He knew us before we were born.”

  “He can see across time.”

  “He’s everywhere. He can reach out and help us no matter where we are.”

  “He can reach across space.”

  “He knows all things.” Dr. Cooper smiled and looked at Mac. “And that’s something not even Annie Murphy, or anyone else outside time and space, can do.”

  Mac nodded. “Well, He’s God, and no one else is.” Then he gazed once more toward the cliff. “But imagine this as well: Since Annie is stuck between past and present, she can see both worlds. Yet she can’t see her own completed carvings that exist in the future until she carves them in the past because they’re still hidden inside the cliffs; she hasn’t removed any rock yet. Now is that weird enough for you?”

  Dr. Cooper had to smile. “Weird enough. But right now I’m bothered by something weirder: Annie is alive right now, and at least from where we stand, the sheriff hasn’t caught or shot her yet. Have we interrupted history? Have we kept something from happening that history records as happening?”

  “Well . . . don’t quote me on this, but I don’t think history can be changed. Whatever happened in the past has already had its effect on us and on this place. Whatever happened on June eighth, 1885, your kids were a part of it.”

  “So it would be nice to know how it all ends.”

  “And we should be able to do that with a little work. What say we go into town, develop the film in your camera, and see how my researchers are doing?”

  When Deputy Hatch stepped into the little chapel of Hemple’s Funeral Parlor, Stanley Hemple, the undertaker, didn’t seem entirely glad to see him.

  “Hi there, Stanley,” said Deputy Hatch, respectfully removing his hat and sniffing a small bouquet of flowers by the door. “Nice flowers. Got a funeral service coming up?”

  Stanley, a small, round-bellied man with little round glasses, was dusting the pews and windowsills and didn’t look at the deputy when he answered, “No. Those are from the Murphy funeral.”

  Deputy Hatch gave a slow, thoughtful nod. “Ohhh, yes, the Murphy funeral. Would that be Cyrus or Annie?”

  Stanley looked at the deputy just so he could glare at him. “Annie Murphy, of course. There were some in this town who liked her.”

  Deputy Hatch smiled when he countered, “A lot of people.”

  The undertaker only grunted and kept dusting.

  Deputy Hatch came closer and sat in a pew. “I’d like to have a word with you about that funeral.”

  Stanley only shrugged, still looking away. “Don’t know what there is to talk about.”

  Deputy Hatch remained undaunted. “Let’s talk about Annie.”

  Just before eight o’clock, a crowd gathered on the front steps of the little courthouse, mingling and muttering and catching up on the latest chitchat while waiting for the auction to begin. Some were serious bidders wishing to try for the Murphy Mine and its attached properties; others were curious, sensing some intrigue in the wind and wanting to be in on it. Some were children, attracted momentarily by the crowd and the bright red, white, and blue banner hanging from the front porch roof.

  Two were Jay and Lila, dressed to blend in with the crowd and trying to remain inconspicuous. They’d borrowed some clothes they found hanging on a clothesline in someone’s yard—not something they would normally do, but this was an emergency. They’d promised each other they’d return the clothes later. Jay was wearing an oversized pair of trousers that hid at least the tops of his running shoes, a shirt to hide his T-shirt with the Chicago Bulls logo on the back, and a droopy hat that covered most of his face. Lila was wearing a full blue dress and bonnet and looking quite ladylike. She kept near the front of the crowd with her back toward everyone. They still wore their own clothes under their disguises. They remembered what had happened to the skirt from the mercantile.

  At eight o’clock sharp, Mr. Ivan Forshay, the well-dressed court clerk and assistant to Judge Crackerby, stepped onto the front porch under the red, white, and blue banner and waved his hands to quiet the crowd. “All right, attention everyone, attention!” When they quieted down, he took out the official notice, unfolded it with a snap, put on his reading glasses, and began to read. “‘Inasmuch as Cyrus Murphy and Annie Murphy his wife, the rightful and legal owners of the property described below, are now deceased, leaving no progeny, it is hereby declared by the court and by the sheriff of Bodine that the mining interests and all attached properties—uh, that’s the mine—’”

  The crowd let out a little cheer. There were plenty who wanted it.

  Forshay continued reading, “‘be put up for auction on this, the eighth of June in the year of our Lord 1885.’”

  Then came the legal description of the mine and property, a long and boring paragraph. Jay took that moment to wander nonchalantly onto the porch of the courthouse, mingle with some other kids sitting there, and scan the crowd. He couldn’t see the judge anywhere.

  A distant cloud of dust over the roof of the sheriff’s office caught his eye, and he glanced toward the cliffs to the east of town.

  He tensed. Then he tried to look relaxed so nobody would notice how tense he felt.

  He could see dust and rocks falling from the cliffs, first a little in one place, then a little in another place, as if someone were reaching over and chipping them loose. He could see no body, no human shape. But he did notice ghostly patches of blue light moving like busy hands over the rocks, and he recognized that eerie color. Annie! From somewhere outside time and space, she was reaching, chipping, carving!

  He looked at the crowd. Everyone was facing the courthouse, watching and listening to Mr. Forshay, and didn’t notice what was happening on the cliff.

  More rocks and pebbles fell. More dust.

  “The auction will be by secret, sealed bid,” Mr. Forshay was saying. “We’ll pass the hat here, and everyone who wants to bid, just drop one in.”

  Lila could tell her brother was seeing something, and when he looked her way, she could read it in his face. He nodded toward the east. She put on a nice casual expression and glanced over her shoulder, but not for too long, lest she get someone else curious. When she snapped her head forward again it was mainly to hide her surprise from the crowd.

  Annie! she thought. She’s making another carving right now, this very moment! But where is she?

  Mr. Forshay was taking bids, holding out his fancy hat as several men from the town tossed in their sealed envelopes. “That’s it, that’s it. Anybody else?”

  Jay started to stroll casually and calmly along the courthouse porch, hiding behind the brim of his hat and taking occasional glances toward the cliff as he crossed behind Mr. Forshay. So Annie was reaching across time and space from somewhere. If he could only make out what was being carved, he might be able to figure out where Annie was standing to do it. He could see Lila moving toward the edge of the
crowd now, her eyes darting this way and that beneath her bonnet.

  CLUNK! SQUEEEEAK! The door of the courthouse swung open and out stepped Judge Amos Crackerby, his nose high, his thumbs in his vest pockets. “Am I late?”

  Jay turned away, scratching his ear so his arm would hide his face. Lila found something to look at in the opposite direction.

  “No, not at all, Judge!” said Mr. Forshay, holding out his hat.

  The crowd fell silent as the judge stepped up, his sealed envelope in hand. When he dropped it into the hat and threw the crowd a smile, a few folks actually groaned.

  Mr. Forshay quickly announced, “And with the judge’s bid, the bidding is hereby closed. The auction committee will now convene—uh, John, are you here? Oh, there you are. And Benny, where are you? All right, we’re all here . . .”

  Jay caught Lila’s eye again just before he slipped inside the courthouse door. Some other folks were already in the little lobby, waiting and visiting and taking care of other business, so Jay didn’t feel he was too obvious. Before long, Lila slipped quietly through the door and strolled ever so casually up to him.

  “Annie has to be around the courthouse somewhere,” she whispered, smiling a pleasant, social smile in case anyone was watching.

  Jay smiled back. “My thoughts exactly. If she’s really telling her story, the trial that took place here would be a big part of it.”

  Lila nodded toward the big double doors across the lobby. “Let’s try the courtroom.”

  They crossed the lobby, took a furtive look around, and then slipped quietly through the doors.

  Judge Crackerby had to love this place. The courtroom was formal and imposing, with lots of dark woodwork and a big, impressive judge’s bench that made you feel timid just to look at it. Even the deathly quiet was intimidating. The sound of the door closing behind them echoed through the room like an announcement and made them feel wide open to discovery.

  But in one quick instant, none of that mattered. A vague, wavering shape like a wisp of blue smoke stood behind the judge’s bench. The blurry red-haired woman looked intently beyond Jay and Lila to the east. They could tell she was busily at work, an artist creating a masterpiece. Yet her arms were not visible as arms but only as vague shafts of blue that stretched like light beams across the courtroom and through the rear wall.

  Jay and Lila looked at each other. They’d found her! But . . . what now?

  They started toward her carefully, slowly, almost tiptoeing down the center aisle. Lila called very quietly, “Annie? Annie, don’t be afraid.”

  The woman froze, listening, looking about.

  “Annie, it’s just us. We won’t hurt you.”

  She spotted them and her eyes filled with fear.

  “No,” said Lila. “Don’t be afraid—”

  Annie bolted from the room, disappearing through the rear wall.

  “Oh man, we’ve got to find her!” Jay cried.

  There was a door to the right of the judge’s bench. Lila ran for it, hoping it would lead outside. Jay ran back up the aisle toward the main doors, hoping to search the front.

  Lila got through the door and it closed behind her.

  Jay squeaked to a halt halfway up the aisle. He heard the voices of the judge and the auction committee just outside the doors. He ducked into the gallery and hid under a bench as the doors opened and the judge came in, muttering to Mr. Forshay and two other men who followed him.

  “We’ll use my chambers in the back,” Crackerby was saying. “That way we won’t be disturbed and our deliberations can be private.”

  “What’s to deliberate?” asked one of the men. “We open the envelopes, see who had the highest bid, and then—”

  “Not here!” the judge growled. “We’ll discuss it in my chambers!”

  The four men remained silent until they had walked the length of the courtroom and through a door to the left of the judge’s bench. The last man through the door forgot to close it all the way. Jay took that as an invitation and sneaked forward to listen in.

  The door Lila went through led to the jury room, and another door led from there to the alley behind the building. Lila opened the second door and found herself on a small landing from which she could see up and down the alley. But just as she feared, Annie Murphy was long gone.

  Lila hurried back inside before she was seen and then tried to think it through: Annie had been carving on the cliff, that was certain. Lila would have to be standing behind the judge’s bench to see what Annie was carving, but that wouldn’t work because there were no windows in the back of the courtroom. Annie could see the cliffs because she was still floating between time dimensions and the buildings were all transparent to her. Jay and Lila had experienced that phenomenon for themselves.

  So, Lila thought, there has to be some other spot here that can give me the same perspective, or at least close to it.

  She found another door leading from the jury room to a small hallway. From that hallway a narrow stairway led up to an attic. Maybe there was a window up there, something that would line up with the cliffs and the judge’s bench. It was worth a try.

  Jay crouched by the door to the judge’s chambers and could hear the envelopes being torn open one by one.

  “Mr. Lane Cutler,” Mr. Forshay read, “five hundred dollars.”

  “Ha!” said the judge. “The man’s dreaming.”

  RIP! “Mr. Zeke Maddox, four hundred and fifty.”

  The judge laughed. “Can you believe that?”

  RIP! RIP! RIP! Mr. Forshay read the rest of the bids. The highest one came from a Mr. Perry Ablemeyer, who bid one thousand, five hundred dollars.

  “Well,” said the judge, “I should have that one beat hands down!”

  RIP! Mr. Forshay opened the last envelope. “Uh . . . I can’t quite make it out, Judge. Just how much was your bid?”

  Jay could hear the pride in Crackerby’s voice. “Two thousand dollars, gentlemen! Congratulate me!”

  “Congratulations!” said Mr. Forshay.

  The other two said congratulations, but they didn’t sound too enthusiastic.

  “And I don’t suppose you’ll let us see your bid?” one of the other men asked.

  “What’s the matter, Benny?” the judge asked.

  “Don’t you trust Mr. Forshay to read the bids correctly?” “

  Well . . .”

  “Surely you trust me to submit an honest bid?”

  Benny sounded a little scared as he answered, “Well, sure, Judge, anything you say.”

  The judge harrumphed a gravely laugh. “Well, I should think so, considering the leniency I’ve extended toward you on several occasions.”

  “But Your Honor . . .”

  “Yes, what is it, John?”

  “Before we close this deal and sell you the mine

  . . . Well, there are some people outside who are still wondering about Annie Murphy and the sheriff.”

  The judge’s voice was not kind at all. “What about them?”

  “Well . . .” John stammered a bit. “You’ve gone ahead with this auction without the sheriff to preside. And as for Annie, well, you know she’s been seen around town the last day or so.”

  The judge pounded the table so loudly it even made Jay jump. “That is nothing but ridiculous rumor! Annie Murphy is dead and buried!”

  “Your Honor, there are people in this town who aren’t so sure of that. After all, no one saw her body; no one saw what was in that coffin Stanley Hemple buried. People are wondering—”

  “John, let me tell you something, and you can tell everyone: Dead or alive, Annie Murphy is a convicted murderess, and therefore, by order of this court, she forfeits her property. Now are there any further questions?”

  Benny ventured a comment. “Guess this’ll be a pretty profitable move for you and the sheriff.”

  The judge snickered at that. “Of course I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Then his voice grew very cold. “And neither do you, is
that understood?” There was a nervous pause, and then Benny responded, “Congratulations, Judge!”

  All three men applauded the judge’s new purchase.

  Lila found a small window in the attic at the front of the building, but even though she could look out and see the cliffs to the east, she couldn’t make out what Annie had been carving. That had to be because she was too high for the image to line up. If she could just get down to the level of the judge’s bench . . .

  The porch roof was right below the window and slanted down toward the street where the crowd was still waiting. That roof might be low enough. With a firm tug, she opened the window, and with a careful hitching up of her long dress, Lila stepped through the window and out onto the roof.

  The edge of the roof hid the people from her, but she could hear their voices just below.

  “Don’t know why we’re waiting out here. The judge is going to have the highest bid.”

  “He already owns half the town. What’s he need the Murphy Mine for?”

  “Annie’s back, did you hear? She’s come to settle the score.”

  Lila crouched to remain out of sight and worked her way halfway down the roof one careful foothold at a time. This was no picnic. The old cedar shingles were slippery, the roof was steep, and the long dress didn’t help.

  She looked toward the cliffs. All right. She thought she saw something, maybe a face, maybe some vertical lines—

  ZIP! Her feet slipped out from under her. She hit the roof with a clatter, put out her arms to stop herself, and tried to regain a foothold, but it was no use. She was rolling, flopping, sliding toward the edge. The people below stopped talking. They could hear her coming. She tried to grab the gutter as she rolled by the edge of the roof. No good.

  The next thing she saw was faces looking up at her as she rolled off the roof and tumbled into thin air.