by Crowe (epub)
His words set something moving in Johnny’s head, but he couldn’t quite get a fix on it. Not yet.
“No,” Johnny said.
“That’s right,” the Devil laughed. “You can’t beat me. No one can, now that my army is complete. I’m going to take over the world, and I’m going to start right here, in Fiddler’s Picket. In the shadow of that stone prison.” The Devil thumbed over his shoulder toward Devil’s Knob. “Right after I finish you.”
That’s it, thought Johnny, his head cocked to one side, following his train of thought. That’s what Major Fiddler said. You can’t beat the Devil, only try to live with him.
“All right,” Johnny smiled, looking up into the Devil’s eyes. On instinct, the Devil took a step back, causing Johnny to smile. He knows I know, Johnny thought, thinking back to Grandpa Crowe and the story he had told. Johnny walked over to the abomination closest to him, his eyes on the Devil the whole time. “If you’re goin’ to finish me, then that’s fine. But first…”
Johnny looked into the monster’s eyes and thought he could see the spirit trapped within. Maybe he just imagined it, but Johnny thought he could almost hear the hijacked soul crying to be freed. Johnny lowered his gaze and followed the crude stitches that circled its neck down the abomination’s chest. Reaching forward, he stuck his hand through the seam into the creature’s chest, fished around, then pulled his hand free. In his fist, Johnny was holding a beating heart.
“Don’t guess it looks too broken after all,” Johnny said, wheeling around to face the Devil. “You know, this never was mine for you to take. It belongs to Anna Lee. Always has. Always will.”
The abomination looked down at the heart in Johnny’s hand, then at Johnny’s face. The creature smiled its gratitude, then collapsed in a heap at Johnny’s feet, throwing its rider and sending the imp scurrying into the shadows.
For one pregnant moment, no one on either side moved. All at once, the soldiers rushed down the hill, hollering. The imps tried to turn their mounts to flee, but all they succeeded in doing was knocking into each other and creating a great confusion. The only way out was back up the Knob, and already the ghosts were cutting off the retreat, surrounding the Devil’s army. The soldiers tackled the abominations, ripping the stitching and tearing the bodies apart. Their ethereal hands passed through the bodies of the monsters, only able to lock onto the parts that had belonged to them in life, parts that had been hacked off by Devil’s surgeons.
The Devil spun about, seeing the pieces of his creations litter the ground. His imps were scattered, slinking into the shadows where they disappeared from sight.
“Come back!” the Devil cried. “Come back you cowards!”
Johnny put his heart into the canvas sack slung over his shoulder and closed the flap. He felt it pulsing against his hip, affirming its life. The abomination at his feet shuddered as the spirit within became untethered, the black thread snapping and turning back to the goo that Johnny remembered. The black substance oozed into the darkness, joining the imps hiding in the shadows.
The same thing was happening all over the bowl. Spirits broke free of their bindings and rose into the air like a great column of smoke. High overhead, they dissipated into the velvet sky faded away.
Enraged, the Devil mustered his remaining strength and reared above Johnny. “Do you think this changes anything?” he screamed in fury. “Do you think you’ve won? You might have defeated my army, but you haven’t beaten me!”
“I can’t beat you,” Johnny said, unmoved by the Devil’s latest performance. “I’m not supposed to.”
“What?”
“I can’t beat you. I can’t erase the mistakes I’ve made or the things I’ve done, so I can’t beat you. I guess,” Johnny said, taking hold of the Devil’s hand, “I just have to live with that. And with you.”
The Devil writhed and twisted, but, like Grandpa Crowe had done some fifteen years earlier, Johnny had grabbed a hold of that sucker and he wasn’t about to let go. The Devil lashed out with his claws and kicked with his cloven hooves, but Johnny managed to avoid the wild blows and held tight. Changing tactics, the Devil dropped to the ground, pulling Johnny down with him. The two rolled about, the Devil trying hard to break free.
Determined though he was, Johnny knew that he couldn’t hold on much longer. His body was a wreck and even while he clung to the Devil with his one good hand, Johnny understood that he needed to make his move now or release the Devil forever. Without thinking twice, Johnny leaned forward and did the only thing he could think to do…
He opened his mouth as wide as he could and swallowed the Devil whole.
The searing in his throat was intense, but no more so than the other pains that Johnny had endured at the Devil’s hands. He felt the Devil settle into his belly, give one last almighty struggle, then fall silent. Johnny lifted his head to the sky and closed his eyes, letting relief wash over him. It was done.
Not quite, Johnny thought, struggling to hold his gorge. He opened his mouth and belched, shooting flames into the sky. Feeling better, Johnny closed his mouth, snorted the residual smoke from his nostrils, and let his mind clear.
“You think you won,” the Devil’s voice whispered in Johnny’s head, “but you haven’t. Not by a long shot.”
The hole now dug, Johnny stepped back and leaned against his spade. He took off his hat out of respect as the soldiers came forward carrying their remains, some in groups of two or three, but most of them alone. They dropped their remains into the mass grave, Union and Confederate alike. When they were finished, Johnny covered the bodies, one shovelful at a time. The moonlight reflected off the sweat running down his face as he labored on throughout the night. It was hard work with him having just one good arm, but before long there rose a rounded mound marking where the soldiers’ remains were laid to rest.
Johnny mounted Bart and led a silent procession as the ghosts followed him back into the town of Fiddler’s Picket. Glass littered the street, crunching under the mule’s hooves. Johnny paused only once around back of Doc Lawson’s place, where he cut a length of rope off of the clothes line, then led the soldiers to the churchyard. The rope secured, Johnny patted the side of Bart’s neck and the mule strained forward, dragging the fallen cross from the churchyard all the way back to the gravesite, where Johnny stood it upright at the head of the mound.
“I’ll get the Reverend to come down here and bless this ground in the mornin’,” Johnny said to the assembled ghosts. They nodded and spoke a few words of thanks, then stepped from the clearing into the shadows. Johnny tried to follow them with his eyes, but they were gone.
“That’s a good thing you did for us,” Colonel Morris said. “That’s two we owe you now.”
“Weren’t nothin’,” Johnny said. “Nothin’ more than I’d want done for me.”
“I had a few of the men spread out and make sure that those imps aren’t regrouping somewhere before they head home, but they’ve not found anything yet. I don’t think they’ll give you any more trouble.”
“No,” Johnny agreed, “I don’t think they will.”
“Colonel, we found somethin’ over here you might want to take a look at,” hollered one of the men. Johnny and Colonel Morris walked to where the soldier stood underneath an evergreen tree.
“Any idea what this is all about?” asked Colonel Morris.
“Yeah,” said Johnny, dropping to his knees. “I believe I do.”
Johnny ran his hand over the trunk, his fingers tracing the letters J.C. etched into the front plate. He watched the trunk, waiting for it to show some sign of menace, but the wood, leather, and bronze were cold and lifeless. The lock that had secured the latch had been removed, and Johnny opened the lid, tensed and ready to slam it shut if need be. But there was no infernal fire lighting the trunk from within; it was dark inside. He ran his hand along the inside
of the trunk, sliding it over the velvet lining. His hand struck something cold, hard, and smooth. Taking hold of it, Johnny pulled the golden arm out of the trunk and laid it in the grass next to him. Three more times he reached back into the trunk, producing a pair of silver legs, a bronze headplate with a sapphire set in the eye socket, and an iron heart.
“How in the world did all of that fit in there?” asked the Colonel over Johnny’s shoulder.
“Magic,” said Johnny.
“You know who all this belongs to?”
Johnny looked at the items arrayed before him. “They was meant for my father, Joe,” Johnny said, “but he wasn’t around. So, they passed on to me.”
“Not sure. Can’t imagine what use they’d be now. Looks like all the magic’s gone out of ‘em.”
“What were they for?” asked Emmit. Johnny looked over his shoulder and saw that the remaining ghosts had crowded around to get a look at the trunk and its contents.
“The Devil gave them to me. Part of his way of breakin’ me down, getting’ me to lead his army.” Johnny pointed from one item to the next. “That arm gave me strength like I’d never had before. I could push down whole trees and chop through I don’t know how many sticks of wood. Those legs made me fast. They was the reason I got to go along with General Stuart and his cavalry. Let me climb like a goat, too. Straight up the side of a hill like it was nothin’. That head’s where I stored up everythin’ I learned over at Manassas. That’s what helped me come up with the plan to get you fellas outta there. That eye let me see you fellas to begin with, you bein’ ghosts and all. I only had that heart for a minute, but it kept me from feelin’ things, like bein’ scared or ---”
“Or love,” Emmit finished for him.
“Or love,” Johnny repeated. All around him, the ghosts stood in quiet contemplation.
“Now that’s the biggest crock of bull I’ve ever heard,” said Major Fiddler, breaking the silence. “Is that really what the Devil told you?”
Johnny looked up at the Major and nodded.
“And you still haven’t figured it out yet, have you? It’s like I told you before, son, the Devil can’t make you do anything. You make your own way in this world.”
“Yeah, I got that,” Johnny replied. “I made my own decisions and I got to live with ‘em.” He rubbed his stomach. “With him.”
“The thing is, he can’t give you anything you don’t already have, either.”
Johnny was confused.
“That arm didn’t give you any strength, Johnny. I’ve seen the work you did here today, pushing over trees and clearing out firing lines for these men.”
“That’s right,” said Emmit, excitement growing in his voice. “You climbed all the way to the top of the Knob to see what the Devil was up to tonight, and that was on wooden legs. That wasn’t no silver legs that ‘elped you do that. That was from nigh on twenty years of climbin’ the Knob that did that.”
“You came up with the plan all by yourself,” added Colonel Morris. “It was a good one, too… even if it didn’t go like we thought it would.”
“And see here, son,” Colonel Johns cut in. “You don’t need that bauble to see us now, do you?”
“No,” Johnny shook his head.
“I’ll tell you this,” said Major Fiddler. “Good plan or not, what saved us all tonight when your plan didn’t work was your outstanding courage. That took a lot of heart. These are just symbols. Something for you to put your faith in when you wouldn’t put it in yourself. And when you quit believing in them because of what the old Devil said, then they quit working for you. The magic was never in them, son. It’s always been in you.”
“You think so?” Johnny looked from one face to the next. The soldiers nodded and smiled. Turning back to the trunk’s contents, Johnny said, “Then there just might be use for these yet.”
“Where you goin’ now?”
Johnny and Emmit walked apart from the rest of the soldiers. Though he hadn’t made a conscious decision to do so, Johnny wasn’t surprised to discover that his feet were taking him toward the one place he had wanted to go since he had passed it on his way out of town all those months ago; toward the Reverend’s farm up on Green Hill. His feet were on the right path and that was a good enough start for now.
“Well, if we’re all done, then I guess I’ll be ‘eadin’ out to see my Sally,” Emmit replied.
“You mean you ain’t told her yet?”
“About bein’ dead? Yeah, she knows about that.”
“What did she say?”
“It went somethin’ like this. After you ‘anded me my notice, I went to my Sally’s parents’ place back in Tennessee. It was nighttime and they was all asleep, so I stole on up to Sally’s room and there she was, sleepin’ so peaceful.”
Emmit paused and turned his head away from Johnny. He wiped at his eyes, sniffed once, then continued on. “I set that envelope you ‘anded me down on the table beside her bed where she’d see it in the mornin’, then I crawled into bed and lay down beside her.”
“You did what?”
“I just wanted to lay there with her one last time, you know? Like we did back ‘ome before the war.”
Johnny nodded.
“Well, I guess I must’ve woke her up somehow, ‘cause she sat up and looked over at me and screamed like you wouldn’t believe.”
“Wait a minute,” Johnny said. “She saw you?”
“Uh huh.” Emmit nodded. “Then she fell over. Dead.”
Johnny stopped walking and stared at his friend’s ghost. “Really?”
“Told you she ‘ad a bad ‘eart. Guess I scared ‘er to death.”
“Sorry to hear that,” was all Johnny could think to say.
“Aw, it ain’t nothin’,” Emmit replied, continuing up the hill. “Soon as she died, ‘er spirit left ‘er body. I seen it ‘appen. It was the most beautiful thing I ever seen. Until she started ‘ollerin’ and beatin’ on me for scarin’ ‘er like that.”
“You mean she’s a ghost now, too?”
“Not exactly,” said Emmit. “See, they buried ‘er body. She’s more like… well, I can’t really explain it. She’s just waitin’ on me so we can, you know, move on together. Or somethin’ like that.”
“You goin’ to be able to do that now?”
“Yeah,” Emmit replied. “Now that I’ve been buried proper, I guess I will.”
The two were cut off by a crow darting through the sky toward them, cawing as it came. A shudder ran down Johnny’s spine as he watched it land on the nearest branch, turning its head from side to side, examining them. Johnny recognized it right away and he didn’t like the nervous way the bird was acting.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“You better come quick,” the crow said. “Your girl… she in trouble.”
When Halloween morning dawned, Saul had decided to spend one last day searching for the family’s fortune. He had pulled out the map and gone over it one more time, making certain that he hadn’t missed any of the “X”s. Nope. He had searched each one of the locations and so far had turned up nothing. If his bad luck held today and he hadn’t found the fortune on his own, then he was prepared to marry the girl in the morning, accept whatever dowry he could get, then split town with his new bride before anyone had reason to suspect that he wasn’t all that he had professed to being. The stepmother presented no concern, she was still eating up every word he said, but Saul had a feeling that the Reverend was on to him. The sooner he could get away, the better.
He had started that morning on the far side of the property, working his way toward that damnable field where the girl spent most of her time filling in the holes that he had dug. By the time that the sun had started to sink low in the western sky, Saul was hot, tired, and irritable. He flung his pickaxe across the field
, growling in frustration, when it occurred to him that he had never checked the orchard at the edge of the field.
“Never had reason to,” Saul mumbled, pulling the map from his back pocket. He unrolled the map and held it up so that the setting sun illuminated the parchment from behind. Getting his bearings, Saul’s eyes wandered to where the orchard would be on the map and ---
“What’s this?” he muttered. There was something there on the map, right where the orchard met the field. Why hadn’t he seen it before?
“Could be an X,” Saul said, rolling his map up and shoving it back into his pocket. He stooped to pick up his pickaxe, making his way across the field to the line of trees.
That’d be just like them, thought Saul. They’d be expectin’ someone to come lookin’ for their fortune on their own property. Why not bury it just off the property?
It was quiet in among the trees. Maybe too quiet. Saul spun around and scanned the woods. He couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching him, though he would have been hard pressed to say where that feeling was coming from. It seemed as if the whole orchard was full of eyes and all of them were focused on him.
“Anyone out here?” Saul called into the woods. There was no reply, save the caw of a single crow.
Saul returned to his work, poking the ground between the roots of the biggest tree. It seemed the most reasonable place to expect a treasure to be buried, and it was pretty close to where he thought he saw the X on his map. All at once, the silence of the orchard was broken by the rush of countless wings. Saul looked up; an entire flock of crows was perched overhead in the branches of the tree.
“Damned birds,” Saul growled.
One of the crows glided down from the tree and landed a few feet away from him. There was something about the crow that disturbed him; maybe it was the way it turned its head from side to side, watching him first with one eye, then the next. Keeping his eyes fixed on the bird, Saul felt along the ground until his fingers closed around a stone the size of a peach pit. He drew his arm back, careful not to startle the crow, and threw the rock at the bird. The stone sailed wide, but it had done its job. The crow had flown away.
