by Dan Foley
“You’re serious,” Charlotte said.
“Yes,” Wolf told her. “We’re serious.”
“Then, if this ghost is still here, and waiting for you, why did you come back?” Charlotte asked.
“Because I fought another ghost on the sub I was on, and I beat it. I thought I was ready to take Old Ben on, but Grandmere insisted I go to New Orleans to meet Mose, a voodoo priest. He showed me I wasn’t.”
Charlotte looked from Wolf to his grandmere and then back at him. “If he showed you that you can’t beat this thing, then why are you back again? Do you want to die?”
“Because he taught me things, about myself and the power I have in me. He taught me how to beat Ben ... if I’m strong enough.”
“If this Mose knows so much, why doesn’t he take care of Old Ben?”
“Because Ben is my fight, not his. I have to beat him if I’m going to be able to stay here.”
“Then why stay here? Just leave.”
“I left once because of him, and it’s eaten at me ever since. I can’t live with that my entire life. If I ever want to leave, I want it to be on my terms. I need to deal with him first. And, if I don’t beat him, he’ll just keep killing,” Wolf told her.
Charlotte wasn’t the only one in Bayou La Pointe who had taken an interest in Wolf’s return. Renee La Pierre knew everything that went on in her domain. Her web of informants told her everything that happened south of the city. Mose might be the king in New Orleans, but she was queen here in the delta. If that boy had the power in him, she would have to deal with him sooner or later.
7 – Settling In
Before he did anything else, Wolf had to check the jon boat for leaks, get a new motor for it, and find an old pickup for hauling things around. The things would be gators if Billy Bodie was still in the market for them. And, eventually, he was going to have to find a job, but not for quite a while. Poaching gators and catching catfish was never going to provide him with all the income he needed, but with the Torino already paid for, and the four thousand dollars he had saved from the Navy, it would extend the time he could remain unemployed.
“Grandmere, is Billy Bodie still living in town?” Wolf asked at breakfast the next morning.
“That old boy still around. What you want him for? He nothin’ but trouble.”
“I used to sell him catfish and anything else I caught out in the bayou. I want to see if he’s still in that business.” He didn’t have to tell her that the “anything else” was gator. She knew it.
“You know they allow gator huntin’ down here now, don’t you?” Grandmere asked.
“Since when?” Wolf asked, surprise and disappointment in his voice.
“Started back up last year. Talk to Billy, he tell you.”
Wolf intended to, first thing after breakfast.
“He got a new place now,” she said.
“Where?” Wolf finally asked when she didn’t say anything further. She did that, made you ask rather than just volunteer the information. It could be irritating some times.
“He took over Mackey’s Bait Shop when Mackey died back in ’68,” she finally told him.
Mackey’s — images of the bait shop ran through his mind. A big, one room shack with a Bait & Beer sign out front and a dock out back right on the bayou. It would be an ideal place for Billy to unload gators and other things, probably weed, from people bringing them in from the swamp. Wolf definitely had to go see him after breakfast.
From the outside, Mackey’s didn’t look much different than he remembered it. The old sign was still there, along with a smaller one for “Boat Rentals.” The place still needed paint, but now there was a green porta-potty off to one side. There had been an old outhouse there before. It had smelled to high heaven and had been full of flies and mosquitoes. The porta-potty was definitely an improvement.
Wolf parked the Torino in the crushed oyster-shell parking lot and went in to see Billy. He was shocked at what he found inside. Instead of a dark, run down bait shop it was now well lit and filled with fishing and hunting gear and displays. A cooler on the left wall held six-packs of cold beer — and it wasn’t all Dixie. Budweiser, Pabst Blue Ribbon and others also showed through the glass doors. Knowing Billy, he was probably doing a good business with the teenagers in town.
“I was wondering if you’d show up here now that you’re back,” Billy said from behind the counter in at the far end of the room.
“Big changes,” Wolf said as he looked around the shop. “Looks like you’re doing pretty good for yourself.”
“Doing all right — but I can always do better. How about you? What are you doing these days?”
“Just getting back, checking out my options. You still in the market for catfish or ... anything else?” Wolf asked.
“I can take the catfish and any other fish you want to bring me. Snappers too,” Billy told him.
“What about gators,” Wolf asked.
“That’s a problem. It’s legal to hunt gators now. Has been since last year. So, unless you get a license ...”
“Right,” Wolf answered. “Well, fish is something anyway. I’ll drop them off whenever I have them.”
“Anything else I can help you with, Melvin?” Billy asked.
“Maybe. I’m going to need a motor for my jon boat. Nothing new. You have anything?”
“Not used, but I’d be happy to sell you a new one.”
“No, used will do me fine,” Wolf answered.
“Okay, I’ll ask around,” Billy told him.
Wolf checked for Charlotte’s pickup outside the Seven-Eleven on his way out of town. It wasn’t there. Either she had the day off, or was working the afternoon shift. I’ll check again when I get back, he thought, and pushed the Torino up to fifty.
The ghost was standing on the side of the road exactly where he had seen it the first time. It was a young man in jeans with the cuffs rolled up and a plaid shirt with the sleeves cut off. He had an Elvis style haircut, and Wolf had the impression he had died in the ‘50’s. When Wolf stopped the Torino and stepped out, the revenant stared at him with hungry eyes. When Wolf stared back at him, the ghost screamed, a sound Wolf only heard with his mind, not his ears, as it rushed toward him.
In the instant before the spirit was on him, Wolf’s resolve waivered. He felt the cold seep into his body as the ghost’s hunger invaded his mind. He stood frozen, unable to respond. Then the gris-gris hanging around his neck seemed to catch fire and the thing growing inside him lashed out at the intruder. The struggle between the power in Wolf’s blood and the ghost was over in seconds. The spirit fled from him. It emerged from his body shredded into bits and pieces. The whirlwind that rose up around him scattered what was left of it across the swamp that bordered the road. Whatever energy had held the spirit together was gone. Some of it, the thing growing inside Wolf had taken — the rest dissipated into the bayou.
What the hell happened? Wolf thought as he stood shaking at the side of the road. He hadn’t been in control during his fight with the ghost, his power had. I can’t let it control me, I have to control it. But how? Mose never taught me that.
He was exhausted and exhilarated on his drive back to Bayou La Point. The brief encounter with the revenant had emotionally drained him. I need to be prepared for it the next time, he told himself. Then he thought, the next time? What next time? Not Old Ben, I’m not ready for him ... yet. But I will be when we meet. He was already thinking about the other ghost he had seen on his drive home from New Orleans.
This time Charlotte’s pickup was parked on the side of the Seven-Eleven when he passed. He almost missed it, tucked under the branches of a live oak festooned with Spanish moss. It was too late to pull in when he saw it, so he turned around in the Baptist Church’s parking lot.
“Hey, Charlotte,” he called to her when he walked in. Before she could answer, a young guy placed a six-pack and a package of beef jerky on the counter. Before she rang
it up, Charlotte asked to see his driver’s license for proof of age.
“What, do I look like a kid to you?” the guy asked.
“No, but I still have to ask. It’s my ass if I sell to a minor,” she answered.
“Shit,” the guy replied and slid the six-pack across the counter at her. “Just ring the damn beer up and I’m out of here.”
“Sorry,” Charlotte answered. “I can’t until I see your ID.”
The guy grabbed the beer and the jerky and then dropped a few crumpled bills on the counter. “Well, then I guess I’m just gonna have to take it.”
“Hey, you can’t do that,” Charlotte said, but he was already walking toward the exit where he found Wolf standing in his path.
“Move,” the man said. He was four inches taller than Wolf and at least fifty pounds heavier so he was surprised when Wolf didn’t immediately step out of his way.
“I said move, asshole,” the man repeated and stuck out a hand to shove Wolf aside. Wolf stepped to the side, grabbed the man’s wrist and placed his other hand on the back of the man’s elbow. A yank on the wrist and a push on the back of the elbow and the guy was face down on the floor.
“Fucker,” the guy said and jumped up ready to fight when Wolf released him. Wolf stared at him, not backing down. Inside him the power was building, urging him to tear into the big man. It was a struggle, but he managed to control the need to lash out at the prick. The guy must have seen something in Wolf’s manner, or his eyes, because he mumbled another “asshole” and then turned and left. Wolf picked up the six-pack and the jerky and placed them on the counter in front of Charlotte.
“Where did that come from?” Charlotte asked, not moving to take the beer or jerky. “You never would have done that before.”
“I’m not the same person I was before. The Navy changed all that.” Wolf thought it best not to tell her about the power that had surged through him, or the thing that Mose said was growing inside him. Not yet, anyway.
“What should I do with this?” she asked, pointing to the bills on the counter.
“Do you ever get tips here?” he asked.
“Not really,” she answered.
“Well, I guess you do now,” he told her.
“I guess so,” she laughed, and pocketed the bills.
The laughter cut the tension and Wolf managed to ask her out before another customer came through the door.
“Okay,” she agreed. “I’m off at eleven. You can pick me up here.”
“Tonight? What is there to do in Bayou La Pointe at eleven o’clock at night?”
“Oh, I’m sure we’ll find something to do,” she told him with a smile.
Renee La Pierre sensed the growing power in Wolf when he returned from his encounter with the ghost. This one is going to be a problem if he stays, she told herself. But there was no need to worry about that now. He had a long way to go before he could challenge her. If nothing else, it might be interesting to watch him and see what he could do.
8 – Charlotte
Melvin was back, but he was changed. The encounter with the asshole in the store proved that. He wasn’t the same easy going guy he had been when he left. There was an edge to him and she wasn’t sure she liked it. She had had enough of macho to last her a lifetime. And this talk about ghosts in the bayou, what was that all about? He obviously believed it, and so did his grandmere, but Charlotte had her doubts. Ghosts, for Christ sake. But she sure wasn’t going to walk away from him without trying. She had waited too long for him to come back to do that.
Charlotte didn’t know what Melvin had planned for when he picked her up after work and it had her worried. What the hell are we going to do at eleven o’clock at night in Bayou La Pointe? When we were kids all there was to do at that time of night was park and make out. I sure as hell don’t want to do that, and I’m not about to take him back to my house ... not yet anyway.
She considered bringing a six-pack, but then thought better about it. What kind of message would that send? Are you crazy? she finally thought. It’s just Melvin, relax.
Telling herself to relax was easier said than done. Then, when eleven o’clock finally arrived and Melvin hadn’t shown up she didn’t know whether to be annoyed or relieved.
“Be careful when you go out there,” Benny Marsh, her relief, told her when he came in. “There’s a guy just sitting out in the parking lot in a red, fast-back Torino.” Benny must have seen something in her reaction because he asked, “Hey, you want me to walk you to your pickup?”
“No, that’s okay, I know who it is,” she called back to him as she pushed the door open and walked into the night.
She saw his car as soon as she was out of the door. Melvin was lying on the hood gazing up at the sky. He must have heard her, because he was off the Torino before she had taken more than ten steps. “Melvin, how long have you been out here?” she asked when he reached her.
“Not long,” he answered. “I was just enjoying the night until you got out.”
“You do that a lot?” she asked, not knowing what else to say.
“Not in a long time,” he answered as he walked her to the passenger side of his car and opened door for her. “You don’t get to see the sky much on a submarine.”
His answer surprised her so much she stopped and turned to look at him before getting into the car. “What’s it like, being on a submarine?” she asked, and shivered at the thought.
“Get in and I’ll tell you about it,” he answered.
Well, here goes, Charlotte thought as she climbed into the passenger seat. As Wolf walked around to the driver’s side she was both pleased, and a bit disappointed to see that the Torino had bucket seats separated by a console and the gear shift. The back seat was hardly big enough to sit in, let alone fool around in. There would be no making out in this car.
“You really want to hear about being on a sub?” Wolf asked when he got behind the wheel.
“Yes,” Charlotte answered, and realized she really did, hoping it would give her some insights into the man Melvin had become.
“Okay,” Wolf answered, “but let’s go to Grandmere’s. We can sit on the porch and talk.”
Charlotte thought about going to his grandmere’s before answering. His grandmere would be there, so it was safe, and she didn’t feel like sitting and talking in a car. “Okay, but maybe I should bring my pickup. That way you wouldn’t have to drive me back here later.”
“It’s up to you,” Wolf answered. “I don’t mind bringing you back, but if you want to bring your pickup, that’s fine.”
“I think I will. I’ll follow you over and then I can just drive home later.”
Charlotte spent the five minute ride wondering what it might be like to live on a submarine. The only thing she knew about them was what she had seen on television, and that wasn’t much. What she did know, was that she’d never be able to do it.
When they got to the cabin, Wolf parked the Torino as far forward as he could in order to leave Charlotte enough room to park her pickup. Even then it was a tight squeeze. There was barely room enough for them to slip around the back of her truck without stepping off into the underbrush on the side of the road.
Charlotte was happy to see that Grandmere was still awake. She would have felt strange tiptoeing through the living room to get to the porch knowing the old woman was asleep in the next room.
“Come in, come in,” Grandmere said when Charlotte followed Wolf through the door. “Melvin tol’ me you might be comin’ so I made coffee.”
“Coffee would be great,” Charlotte answered, and followed Wolf to the porch, pleased to know his plans hadn’t included a trip to her place or parked somewhere with a six-pack of Dixie.
“You two set on da porch. I’ll bring it out.”
Charlotte started to offer to help, but stopped when she saw Wolf shake his head. So, instead, she followed him out to the porch and let Grandmere tend to the coffee.
/> They were just settled into chairs when Grandmere came in with two cups and a pot of coffee. She had neither milk nor sugar and Charlotte didn’t want to ask. She was prepared to drink it black until Wolf asked, “Charlotte, do you take milk or sugar with your coffee?”
“Sugar, please,” she answered, and Grandmere shook her head and went to fetch some.
“She drinks it black and can’t imagine why anyone else would take it any other way. I’ve learned to take it like she does, but there’s no reason you should have to.”
When Grandmere brought the sugar and placed it in front of Charlotte. Then she announced, “Well, now that you two set, I’m goin’ to bed.”
When she was gone, Wolf watched Charlotte intently as she stirred a teaspoon of sugar into her coffee and took a sip. “You might want some milk with that too,” he told her as she grimaced at the taste. “She likes it strong.”
“Oh, my God, yes,” she answered, not sure if even the milk would make it drinkable.
“I call it the black death,” he said as he took a sip from his cup. “I’ll make another pot after she’s asleep,” he promised.
“Thank God. Now, tell me about life on a submarine.”
Wolf sat for a minute staring into space, and then started to talk. “Life on a sub is ... different. The first time I saw the Hancock it was tied to the pier in Charleston. I thought, ‘how can we all live on that?’ it’s too small. I didn’t realize that I was only seeing the part of her that was above the water line. When I climbed down the ladder into her, it was like Alice dropping through the rabbit hole. I was in another world, one of steel and plastic. Every part of a sub is man-made. There’s nothing of the natural world on it. More than that, though, it’s a feeling. At first you think it’s pretty big after seeing it from the inside, but then you realize you’re in a steel shell designed to sink. That’s when it seems to shrink around you.”
