“Everyone should pay fer my time — my time is valuble!” He chortled.
He paused as if the thought of money might have been a mirage and pulled the two crumpled twenties out of his pocket. He held them close to his face and examined them minutely then deeply inhaled the scent from the bills.
“Right as rain!” He blurted out and chortled again with glee.
He stuffed the bills deep in his pocket and reached back and pulled Frank through more debris, whistling merrily as he did. It was the same odd tune that Frank often whistled himself but he had no time to question the coincidence — he was hurriedly pushed into a niche surrounded by more stacks of old newspapers and wedged in by Burt, who sidled in so close Frank winced at the thick smell of bourbon on his breath.
“Well? Burt said. “Time’s a wastin’.”
Frank was uncomfortable — almost panicked. This wild odd guy was right in his face, there was no way to get past him if something went wrong, and he hadn’t told his wife or anyone else where he was going. And from the indecipherable things Burt had been saying and his loopy manner, Frank couldn’t tell if he was drunk or crazy as a loon or both. Was it really worth his safety to ask questions about an old dead guy that apparently had trouble telling the truth? He should really just get the hell outta there — it’d be the smart thing to do.
“I’m trying to find out details on Eli’s past.” He said instead. “His background…?”
Burt stared at him with his head cocked to one side on its short, bulgy neck. He seemed to be measuring him, checking his expression for signs that he might be joking. He finally broke into a toothy smile, most of his front teeth at odd angles or missing.
“Fine by me. You wanna look backwards from outside — fine by me. Which stories you want; skin crawlers or hair raisers?”
He put out a pudgy hairy hand, palm upwards, and tapped it.
“Long as you grease the way, I’m willin’ to play along. Another twenty right there.”
Frank winced again at Burt’s breath, turned away to dodge the noxious cloud. Definitely drunk and who knows what else, he thought. He shook his head.
“Let’s see what forty’s bought me first.”
Burt seemed to like the challenge and puffed up with pride.
“Saw a lotta things growin’ up. Specially as Eli was my step-daddy — but I ‘spect you know that.” He gave Frank a wink and continued. “What say I tell ya a liddle grisly tale jest to whet yer appetite.”
He paused and licked his lips. He truly seemed to love, even crave, this rare attention.
“’Fore I begin, I got a rule. You needs to close yer eyeballs an’ piture what I say in yer head. I tell a good story — it’ll be like a movie rollin’ across yer brain. Only thing missin’ is popcorn.”
He chuckled and stared hard at Frank.
“Go ahead — close ‘em. The movie’s about to start!”
Frank reluctantly closed his eyes and Burt began:
“It was in grade school, I musta been ten, eleven years old…Around 1954, 1955, somethin ‘round there. Pitcher them typa clothes and lots of green fields near our school in Santa Monica. That’s right — Santa Monica. It were awfully different back then. What’s the word...? Rurral — that’s the word. Anyways, Eli would come there every so often after the last class and let some of the kids pet his dog, Blackie. They loved doin’ that. Most of ‘em liked Eli too. He was tall and han’some with his crew-cut an’ open face and people jest took to ‘im natural-like. He had the ‘bility to relate at the same level to whoever he were talkin’ to and people liked that a whole lot…”
Burt’s voice had an odd cadence, similar to Eli’s, and the sound was disarming and calming…Frank felt himself relaxing quickly, his back sliding down the stack of newspaper behind him until he sat on the floor, eyes now heavy, limbs beginning to lose feeling…
Before long he was able to drift into the story, just as Burt had said he would. Maybe it was that he had practiced this often as an author or maybe Burt really did have a gift? — whichever the case, Frank was soon transported…
CHAPTER 11 – The Story
Frank looked around and found himself in new surroundings — only this time they weren’t of his own making.
He stood on a dirt road on a warm summer day outside a school that was bordered on three sides by rich, lush greenery. He walked towards the schoolyard, strangely aware of the feeling of his shoes hitting the ground and the earth scraping underneath them as he moved. Distantly, Frank could hear Burt continuing his description of the time period, the clothing, the other children exiting the school after the end of their classes — each item described became real around him.
As Burt’s voice began describing nearby birds chirping, the sound of their twittering overcame Burt’s voice until it was completely drowned out and Frank was alone in his new world. Frank seemed to be there and yet not be there — it was very different than in his own stories in this regard, where he had interacted on every level with the denizens of his imagination. Here, he somehow knew that he was merely an invisible spectator.
A young man with a short crew-cut and pleasant smile waited outside the schoolyard, leaning against a swing post. It was unmistakably Eli in his mid-thirties — handsome, dressed in a neat light blue V-neck sweater and with those same twinkling eyes that never seemed to stop moving and that always seemed to be laughing at something unsaid. At his feet was his large, black, wolf-hybrid that Frank instantly knew as Blackie. Burt was doing a remarkable job — Remarkable!
Several children, upon seeing Blackie, squealed in delight and raced over to see him. It was like a petting zoo and Blackie was the prize attraction. To each child, Eli said “Hello”, followed by their first and last name. Sometimes he would throw in a “Mr.” or “Mrs.” to get a laugh. Either he had been here many times before or his memory was uncanny. The children were almost as enamored of him as they were of his dog and thanked him sincerely for letting them pet the dog and frequently asked an unimportant question or two about him or Blackie before leaving, obvious in their intent to prolong the interaction. When they were done, they rushed off to meet their parents on the other side of the school (the side where there was a paved road for cars and the school bus).
The last boy to exit the classroom was a tiny six-year old named Ricky. He rushed to Eli and Blackie with a huge smile.
“Hiya Eli! Hi Blackie!” he said as he ran his fingers happily through Blackie’s fur. The dog remained perfectly still, eyes full on Eli as though awaiting his next command while enduring this display. Eli responded to Ricky with an ingratiating smile.
“Hello Mr. Ricky Eastman. Waiting for your mom again?” Eli asked in his characteristically Mr. Rogers lilt.
Ricky nodded. “Yup.”
Eli smiled wider and patted Ricky’s shoulder.
“She won’t be comin’ today. Asked me to walk you home.”
Ricky was fully engrossed in Blackie and spoke absently as he watched his fingers slide through the stiff mane.
“I didn’t know you knew my mom?
“Yup.” Eli replied in a firm tone that was unequivocal.
“Okay.” Ricky replied.
Frank stood a few paces away, transfixed by this exchange. His attention was heightened further when Eli turned to one side and called over to a pudgy eleven- year old hiding behind the slide in the sand lot.
“You comin’, Burt?” Eli asked casually.
Young Burt frowned and shook his head adamantly “No”.
“Suit yerself.” Eli responded with a shrug and returned his attention to Ricky.
“Let’s go.”
He put an arm around the small boys shoulders.
“I’ll even show you a shortcut.”
Ricky smiled with excitement.
Frank looked at Eli and even took a step closer to peer at his expression. He seemed absolutely sincere — Frank had seen this same expression in the old Eli he had met himself. Even when Eli was in a position where
Ricky couldn’t see his face — Frank could. And Frank saw that his expression didn’t change — he remained totally credible in his behavior. So what was Burt leading up to? The bright sun was out, the birds were chirping, there was no sense of foreboding here…
The only odd thing about the scene was young Burt.
Frank moved the other direction and got closer to the slide where he could see him better. Burt was pale and seemed to be trembling. He was obviously miserable… and scared… But why?
Frank didn’t have a chance to ponder further — Burt quickly moved from behind the slide and slipped behind a tree ten yards away. It took Frank a moment to realize that Eli and Ricky were on the move and Burt was following them at a safe distance — doing his best to remain unheard and unseen…
***
They walked for a long time, Eli, Ricky, and Blackie leading the way along a dirt trail and Frank following Burt a distance behind as he flitted from tree to tree.
The surroundings became crowded with dense greenery; the trees were thick and tall and in between them there were more and more shrubs, wild flowers, hidden boulders, and logs. It had become difficult for Burt to navigate safely through all these obstacles and stay hidden and still keep the others in sight. Eventually, he had to move closer to the trail that was fast becoming the only clear area.
Eli, Ricky, and Blackie continued up ahead and Eli never looked back or showed any sign that he knew Burt was following… Even Blackie failed to pause and glance backwards… But Frank knew for certain that Eli was aware of Burt and was sure that the older Burt’s now inaudible narration had told him as much.
Ricky was dripping sweat in the hot sun and was tired. He dragged his feet and looked up at Eli.
“You sure this is a shortcut? Seems longer to me…”
Eli paused and looked around. He seemed genuinely confused.
“You know, I think you’re right, Mr. Ricky. Must’ve taken a wrong turn somewheres.”
He glanced down at Ricky apologetically and scanned their surroundings as he absently petted Blackie at his feet. A slow recognition came to him and he smiled and then abruptly snapped his fingers.
“Now I know where we are! I used to have a secret fort here when I was a kid. I wonder if it’s still there…”
Ricky’s interest was piqued.
“We can take a look if you want.”
Eli clapped him on the back.
“That’d be great!” He exclaimed.
***
The distance was obviously further than Ricky had figured it would be and his patience was all but gone. The trail had ended a while back and Eli and Blackie had pushed on, leading him (and Burt and Frank behind) through now dense undergrowth and trees.
Ricky’s face was dirty and scratched from sharp thorny branches and he was just about to dig his heals in and cry when they came upon a clearing with a giant old oak tree growing in the center. The oak was enormous and tall and had three enormously thick branches that twisted towards the sky like a pitchfork. Eli looked down at Ricky with a great smile.
“Not far now!” he said.
He tugged Ricky past the forked oak and again into the brush — but only for a few moments, before they came to the rocky face of a large hill that blocked their path. Vines and ivy and shrubs grew against the outside of the rock and Eli stepped forward and pulled them aside with practiced ease — they were like green interlocking fingers hiding something from uninvited eyes. Magically, a cave opening was revealed — all but invisible — No one would know it were ever there unless they knew exactly what to look for… and how to expose it.
Eli smiled proudly down at Ricky.
“Thought I was foolin’ with you, didn’t you?”
He gave Ricky a long look and Ricky wagged his head side-to-side; questioning his honesty was serious business to Ricky and he responded to the accusation with the utmost sincerity and an unflinching stare back.
“Naah — I believed you, honest!”
Eli laughed at Ricky’s seriousness. “Okay, I believe you back!” he finally replied.
Relieved that this test was past, Ricky looked at the cave entrance for a long moment — it was dark and somehow resembled a mouth, a few odd jags of rocks on the sides seeming like teeth. Ricky finally took a half step towards the cave and then stopped.
“We goin’ in there — looks kinda creepy…”
Eli cocked his head at him.
“You aren’t scared, are ya? ‘Sides — we got Blackie for protection.”
Eli extended his hand towards Ricky and left it outstretched.
Ricky was still skeptical. He stared at the open palm and the fingers that were capped by short sharp fingernails with the traces of dirt or grease underneath. He looked up and searched Eli’s face — It was so warm, so sincere, there was certainly nothing to be afraid of with him by his side...
“C’mon — it’ll be fun.” Eli said smoothly with just a trace of challenge to the words.
Ricky swallowed and tried not to look at the cave again. He finally smiled and placed his small hand in Eli’s.
“Okay.” He said as Eli swept some last overhanging growth out of the way and led the boy into the darkness.
Frank watched with every sense on fire, every instinct sounding a warning bell. The implications were horrific — but he needed to see for himself — What did Eli really have in mind for poor Ricky!
Frank had every intention of following — He literally tried to force his legs to take a step — only to find them locked to the ground like tree roots. For a moment he was confused as to why — and then he saw Burt hiding behind a nearby tree, crying into his hands. Slowly, he understood. This was not his story, he remembered — He was not in control at all. The elder Burt was telling what he witnessed as a child and the story was from his point-of-view — Of course Frank couldn’t follow Eli and Blackie and Ricky — He would have to do what Burt did, which was wait outside — These were the confines of the story — Burt was not describing what happened inside the cave because he didn’t know.
Such was also to be Frank’s fate.
Once Frank realized his actions were directly tied to Burt’s, he moved closer to Burt and waited beside him. It was odd — Frank knew exactly how Burt felt — because he now felt that way himself.
When Burt got tired of standing and sat down in a hidden position from which he could still view the cave mouth, Frank did the same. When the strain of waiting got to be intensely nerve-racking and Burt began biting his fingernails, Frank did the same. And when Burt’s energy finally gave out after waiting what felt like hours and he slipped off into a deep sleep, Frank did the same.
***
When Burt and Frank awakened with a start after an unknown amount of time, they were at first both hazy and unclear on where they were. The sun had begun to set over the forest and the shadows were thick and ominous and it took several moments for them to get their bearings. It could have minutes or it could have been hours. They both shivered simultaneously and Frank realized that the air had become chillingly cold. Like magnets, their eyes were immediately drawn to the cave mouth, and the fear that had temporarily left them in their sleep quickly crept back in with renewed strength.
What had awakened them? Frank thought. Something loud, but distant — He was almost sure it had been a voice but his subconscious hadn’t picked it up clearly… The hairs on the back of his neck slowly rose again and he felt the cold trickle of fearful sweat run down his back between his shoulder blades. He tried telling himself that he was only imagining this — there was nothing to fear — that it was only the elder Burt telling a grotesque story — one that may or may not even be true given the state of the bizarre guy… But the thought fell flat and ineffectual against what he was experiencing in the moment — Everything was too detailed, too real, too exact to be false.
Still… Frank forced himself to think further, If Burt was in this story and he was the one telling it to Frank years later, he had obviously surviv
ed. And Frank was not really there so he was in no real danger… The situation was creepy — Yes, Dangerous — No.
He exhaled gratefully with this knowledge and had almost reconciled himself when Ricky’s panicked voice rang out from somewhere deep inside the cave.
“No, I wanna go home, I wanna go home…”
And then Ricky screamed louder, a shriek that crossed the edge of hysteria —
“I WANNA GO —“
His voice ended abruptly leaving only an empty stillness.
Burt held his breath, face white in the growing darkness, tears running down his face. Frank was paralyzed, his mind blank with fear. The calming notions, the logical explanations — they were all gone as quickly as Ricky’s voice.
The moment dragged on and Frank desperately wanted to run — He was blinded with fear — a deep primal instinct to get away for his own survival — but he was frozen in place next to Burt, powerless in this world that was not his own.
Burt trembled in small erratic spasms and somehow Frank knew... The boy’s mind was cracking… This is where it had begun…
Gradually, a faint sound invaded the stillness of the dark forest; footsteps and the soft humming of an odd little ditty, that same ditty that Frank had hummed earlier and that he had heard from the elder Eli and Burt as well… What was it about that tune?
The melody was soft and light — with a gentle lilt, and in other circumstances it might have been pleasantly quaint. But not here… Not now…
Burt quaked again, red-rimmed eyes glued to the cave mouth, pulse at his neck moving at jack-rabbit speed. Frank’s head was also angled in that direction, eyes straining, neck aching…
Eli causally emerged with Blackie at his side and their eyes, both those of man and dog, seemed to twinkle in unison — an odd reflected light turning their pupils a momentary glossy white.
Then it was gone and Eli’s shadowy figure paused at the cave mouth to replace the growth across the opening. His hands moved deftly as he continued to hum and soon there was no trace of where the cave had been as though it had only been a dream… a hallucination. He knelt down and let Blackie lick something dark from his hands and Frank’s mind reeled.
After Death Page 9
