Thing Bailiwick

by Fawn Bonning

  Jake sat rigid, appearing startled, his olive eyes wide. They were such beautiful eyes, like velvety moss. Shame flooded through her at the sight of him. He wasn’t used to seeing her lose her temper, and if at all humanly possible, she preferred to keep it that way.

  Taking a deep breath, she continued in a calmer tone. “Jake, if you put one more finger on your brother, you’re going to spend the rest of the night in your bedroom. With no T.V.,” she added as an extra incentive. “Is that what you want?”

  Jake shook his head emphatically. To spend the whole night in his room would be like the ultimate torture for Jake, a fate worse than death. He’d be climbing the walls in two minutes flat.

  “I mean it, now. No more warnings, understand?”

  He nodded.

  Brushing the hair back from her eyes, she tucked it neatly behind her ears and shifted the wagon to reverse. She hesitated, twisting around to view the situation more clearly. Because of the location of the bushes, she couldn’t see to back safely onto the main road.

  “Seriously?” she grumbled. Putting the car back into drive, she continued up the dirt road in search of a spot to turn around.

  “You know, Jake, you’re going to have to learn how to treat your little brother with more respect or you’re going to start paying the consequences,” she said, realizing as she spoke them, the words sounded terribly familiar, that she had in fact spoken them more times than could be counted. “This has gone on long enough, do you understand?”

  “Uh huh.”

  “Your brother has feelings, you know,” she continued, despite the fact that she was preaching to deaf ears. “He’s a real, live, breathing human being. Not some…some punching bag. Goodness, where on Earth am I going? See Jake, this is what happens when you misbehave. Now look what you’ve gotten me into.”

  She frowned at the dirt road winding before them. It was luring them deeper and deeper into the woods and seemed to be getting narrower the further they went. It didn’t deserve to bear the title ‘road’, as far as she was concerned. In fact, it seemed barely more than a beaten path.

  As the light filtering through the canopy of trees overhead grew dimmer, she turned on the headlights, and for a few ridiculous moments actually considered throwing the wagon in reverse.

  That would have been a joke. She was lousy at backing up. Couldn’t even back into a parking space without screwing up. Just never could get the hang of it.

  If you’re in reverse and you turn the steering wheel right, the back of the vehicle veers right. Left, car veers left. Easy enough. But the steering wheel always seemed so touchy when in reverse. Before she knew it, she would be way off course and then overcompensating and then zigzagging like an idiot. There was something about going backward that got her all turned around and flustered. She’d end up plowing into the trees, getting stuck, and then they’d have to walk out. Either that or spend the night in the car smack dab in the middle of no-man’s land, not a very appealing notion in the least.

  Turn slight right,

  Not tight right.

  Bright light in sight.

  Might fight night flight plight fright.

  Blight, bite plight fright height.

  Quite right.

  “Look, Mom, a bridge.”

  “Huh?”

  She pulled to a halt. A narrow rickety bridge lie just ahead, spanning a small creek bed. She pondered as to whether or not she should attempt to cross it. It wasn’t as if they would drown or anything if they ended up in the creek. It was practically nonexistent. Nothing more than a mere trickle really. But, all the same, the bridge didn’t appear very sturdy. As a matter of fact, it looked like it might collapse if a snail attempted to cross it, much less a full-sized station wagon.

  She nibbled on her bottom lip. How long would it take for a snail to cross a bridge that size, anyway? An hour? Two? Three? A day? And what would possess a snail to embark on such a journey in the first place? Quest for food? Quest for a mate? Weren’t there plenty of potential mates, and food for that matter, on one side of the bridge without having to cross over? Or did that age-old adage ‘the grass is always greener on the other side’ apply to the insect world as well? Was a snail an insect? No, probably something much more difficult to pronounce, like arthropod or something. What was the deal with that, anyway? Arthropods, gastropods, pteropods, scaphopods, pelecypods, cephalopods. Who the heck came up with all those ridiculous names that no one in their right mind—

  They’re mollusks, Einstein. The six-year-old in the back could probably tell you that. An arthropod is segmented, like a crab or a—

  Male snail laid trail over dale.

  Should snail ail, pale, fail, wail, turn tail,

  Do not rail snail.

  Hail frail snail.

  Regale male snail.

  Tell whale of tale of pale, frail, male snail.

  “Mom?”

  “What…what, honey?” She blinked a few times, bringing the bridge back into focus.

  “Are we lost?”

  She loosened her grip on the steering wheel. “No. Of course not. I’m just…I’m trying to turn around, is all. There has to be a spot right on the other side of this bridge,” she said, trying to sound optimistic.

  Taking a deep breath, she lifted her foot from the brake and slowly inched her way onto the bridge, grimacing at the loud creaking and groaning of boards as rusty nails attempted to pull free from countless years of bondage. A splintering sounded as a rotted board gave way beneath them, and a stab of panic nearly spurred her to gun it. But reason won out.

  There was no sigh of relief, however, once they were safely on the opposite side. That bridge would have to be crossed again on the way back out. But…she would cross that bridge when she got to it.

  She wanted desperately to giggle at such a notion, but thought better of it. There was moistness on her brow that she didn’t bother dabbing. The two hands on the steering wheel were not about to tear themselves loose for such a menial task.

  “Jesus, what have I gotten myself into,” she muttered under her breath as she rounded one bend only to discover another up a short distance. Setting her jaw, she continued on toward it.

  The path was becoming even narrower, if that was possible. Branches began to scrape against the sides of the wagon, grating on her nerves, making her skin crawl, making the throb at the back of her skull intensify.

  In the back seat, Jake and Teddy were as quiet as two little mice. That part she didn’t mind so much. Almost made it worth it. Slouched down in their seats, they peered out their windows at the ominous branches that almost appeared to be groping out for them, as if to snatch them bodily through the windows for the sole purpose of gobbling them whole.

  This is ridiculous, she thought as she rounded another bend with no end in sight.

  No. She had to think positive. She could see the path curving sharply to the right ahead. There was a clearing just beyond that bend. She could just feel it. And if there wasn’t, by God, she would throw the wagon in reverse and back all the way out, even if it took two hours. She was getting the major creeps. Who knew what kind of hermits might be hiding out in these woods. Or worse—muggers, rapists, murderers…like her mother.

  Of course, she hadn’t really murdered Dad. Not physically, anyway. But as far as Sue was concerned, she had murdered him all the same. Could a man be belittled and humiliated to death? Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes! In the end, he’d been reduced to a sniveling, spineless jellyfish, jumping to her every beck and whim so he wouldn’t have to feel the lash of her whip.

  Yes. Her tongue stung like a whip. A nasty whip ripping through flesh, biting to the bone. Yes, tongue, whip. Assimilating. A metaphor, simile. The English language, the epitome of idiocy. Such a garbled mess of mumbo jumbo. What was up with that, anyway? Wasn’t there some way to simplify it somehow? Nouns, verbs, adjectives, participles, pronouns, adverbs, prepositions, conjunctions, interjections, articles, phrases, simple sentences, compound sentences, complex se
ntences, nag, nag, nag, nag, nag.

  Her tongue wagged

  As the hag nagged, ragged, nagged.

  Poor old dad jabbed by the jag,

  Until he lagged, sagged, gagged.

  What a drag.

  A giggle escaped her. It couldn’t be stopped. Not until she caught a glimpse of the two frightened faces in the back seat. A pang of guilt plowed into her, a sledge hammer to the gut.

  “It’s okay. Mommy’s fine. We’re fine,” she tried to assure them, though there was a panicked edge to her voice.

  This had really been stupid. She should have just backed onto the main road in the first place and saved herself all this misery.

  No, you had to follow this path, Miss Brain. This is the path you’ve chosen. Your chosen path.

  You hath chosen

  Your chosen path.

  Now you mustn’t laugh

  As you bath in the wrath

  Of the aftermath.

  A branch cracked like a whip on the windshield, and she jumped, her heart hammering as she made the last bend.

  Her spirits leapt at the sight that opened up before her. “Hey, alright! Look, boys. A house.”

  Just up ahead she could see the remains of what was once a red barn, though now there was only a smattering of faded red scattered here and there, a patchwork of neglect. As she pulled from the path into the clearing, the small house beside it presented itself more clearly, making it apparent that the place had been deserted for quite some time. The windows were broken out, the screens ripped and splayed, and the front door was broken off and dangling by one hinge, swaying ever so slightly in the light evening breeze. What once had been flowerbeds under the front windows were now overgrown with monstrous weeds, some reaching clear to the roof. Ugly, misshapen flower wannabes were trying so desperately to stand tall and proud, claiming defiantly for their own a place where ordinarily they would be plucked up by the roots at the first sign of existence.

  The pathetic things were only fooling themselves. They would always be weeds, no matter what manner of airs they put on. They needed to take a gander at what lie in the back of the wagon if they wanted to see the real thing.

  She glanced up at the rearview into the very back where a brilliant rainbow of colors greeted her—purples, pinks, oranges, reds, yellows, blues—every color imaginable. They were so vivid, and the fragrance permeating throughout the wagon was intoxicating. She breathed in deeply of a scent so heavenly, it brought tears to her eyes.

  She felt a strange twinge of remorse as she glanced back to the mass of tangled weeds stretching so wholeheartedly to the sun. Perhaps she was being too harsh. Maybe they had every right to a bed of their own. Why not let them have their moment of glory, their day in the sun?

  Do not shun

  Those that reach for the sun, aplomb.

  Run at the gun.

  Have a ton of fun.

  When the pun is done

  You have won one, chum.

  Come, come, do not shun

  Those that reach for the sun, my son.

  She shook her head to clear it.

  The pressures of moving were getting to her. They’d overextended themselves. All the credit cards were maxed and Daryl was already talking about quitting his new job because he didn’t like the foreman. And the kids were upset about having to change schools. And she was upset because she’d married a man with a tongue as sharp as her mother’s, and she’d done that on purpose. To punish herself. Because she’d let that momster degrade Dad all those years. She never spoke up, not once. She let her go on and on, demeaning, debasing the only person who had ever shown her an ounce of kindness, someone she supposedly loved, let her walk all over him, a kind, gentle man just trying to survive an abysmal situation, let her tromp him into the ground, crush him beneath her shoe like a lousy cockroach, just let it go on and on and—

  She pulled to a halt and peered toward the barn, her heart racing. Darkness was just beginning to creep in around them, creating shadows within the dusky barn aplenty. But she had seen something, someone slinking from one side of the barn to the other. A man. But there had been something strange about his gait. Awkward. Disjointed. A giant praying mantis came to mind.

  Clammy beads of sweat seeped from her pores. She couldn’t move. Couldn’t tear her gaze away from the ominous murkiness of the barn’s interior.

  “Mom, what are you doing?” Jake whined from the back seat.

  She opened her mouth to reply, but all that came out was a thin squeak of a whimper, and she quickly clamped it shut again.

  “Mommy?”

  Teddy’s tiny voice motivated her to slowly inch the vehicle forward. Turning it in a tight circle, she kept her eyes glued to the barn, swiveling her neck quickly around when it could crane no further. Finally, the circle complete, she headed back toward the small, dark opening in the trees ahead.

  Her eyes jumped to the rearview. A figment of her overactive imagination. Yes, the distorted shadow of a cat or raccoon or something perfectly explica—

  She stepped lightly on the brake and gripped tightly to the steering wheel, her sights glued to the mirror as the dark figure exited the dusky barn into the fading sunlight…

  A shrill whistle sounded, sending terrified shivers down her spine, before she realized that it was issuing from her own throat, a scream trying to force its way past a throat constricted in terror.

  What she was gaping at in her mirror was not a man at all. It stood on two legs, but that was where any resemblance to the human form abruptly ended. It was an animal, or not. It was a beast. It was hideous. Oversized head, folds of thick gray rhinoceros skin, long orangutan arms with hooks for hands, a shock of snow white hair. Its nose was a snotty snout, and she watched in horror as it lifted this to the wind as if to catch her scent.

  She’d seen enough.

  Dirt and gravel went flying as she stomped on the accelerator, and for a few endless seconds time did stop, no ticking of the clock as the tires spun, digging into the moist earth. Finally, they gained traction, sending the wagon fish-tailing crazily toward the narrow path.

  In the rearview mirror, the creature lurched after them.

  “Mom! What’s wrong? What’s going on?” Jake shrilled from the back seat.

  “DOWN! DOWN! DOWN! ON THE FLOOR, NOW!” Grinding the accelerator into the floor, she fought to keep the careening wagon on the dirt path as the branches whipped wildly, pounding like iron mallets.

  Before she flew around the first curve, she made sure to capture a glimpse of the monster now striding fluently after them, its white hair flowing like a wispy veil.

  She became aware of the irritating, high-pitched keening issuing from her own throat, and bit her lip in order to eliminate this minor distraction—which proved to be a major lapse in judgment when the wagon hit a deep rut and she felt her teeth connect, the lip between them seeming to be no obstacle whatsoever.

  Blinding pain shot through her, and she fought to blink it away as the vehicle skidded dangerously. With a loud screeching of metal, the wagon sideswiped a tree and then another, momentarily snatching the wheel from her hands before she was able to once again latch on and regain control.

  In the back seat, Teddy began to whimper. She glanced at him in the mirror, he and Jake wearing pale frightened faces, clutching at the doors and seat to brace themselves, their heads bobbling up and down like marionettes.

  “I said down! Now! Now! Now!”

  They disappeared from sight, throwing themselves to the floor.

  In the rearview, in the not so distant distance, the creature rounded the bend, long arms pumping steadily as it strode after them.

  She screamed as the vehicle careened around a curve, skidded dangerously and narrowly avoiding sideswiping more trees.

  The scream was cut short as, directly ahead, the rickety bridge appeared.

  Cross that bridge when you get to it, will you? Brilliant.

  Her heart dropped. She knew that she should slow down, t
hat the decrepit bridge would never be able to handle the wagon flying at such a speed. But her foot had a mind of its own. It was welded to the floor in fear.

  They hit the bridge at full speed, and it crumpled beneath them, but not before the wagon was launched into the air…and for a few weightless, timeless moments, she just knew that a miracle had occurred. They were flying! And why not? She did, after all, have a bit of experience in that department.

  Squeezing her legs together to keep her bladder from letting loose, she gripped the steering wheel as they sailed toward the heavens. They were flying! Miraculously flying, defying all laws of gravity, going against all rationality, flying…soaring…

  Wheee! Wheee! We three be free!

  See thee ye, wee me?

  Ye decree we plea, thee free!

  Free, no fee, see?

  We flee with glee.

  Gee, she pee!

  Ye slap knee, tee hee hee.

  Oûi, cherié

  Yes siree, we three be free.

  Ye agree?

  And then, alas, the upward arc of the vehicle ceased, and it dropped like the two tons of metal that it was, bouncing and skidding, tires spinning as it sideswiped more trees. She heard one of the back windows implode with a deafening shatter.

  As she fought to maintain control of the lurching vehicle, her eyes went to the mirror, catching a glimpse of the creature leaping nimbly across the crumpled bridge, clearing it effortlessly in one single bound, its flowing mane of white streaming out like the tail of a kite.

  Behind her, twin screams of terror sounded, and she felt a surge of elation at the camaraderie of the two brothers clinging desperately to each other where they huddled together on the floor, finding solace in each other’s arms as was proper for two siblings. Not that constant abuse, the hitting, pushing and punching, the scratching and pinching, screaming and crying, bickering and whining and—