The Old Weird South

by Tim Westover

  #

  Over the next couple of weeks, Joe and Annie found the time to make two trips to the dusty country road late at night. Their destination was about twenty miles east of their home, just a shade less than a two-hour drive, one way in those days.

  They returned home disappointed both times. Annie said she didn’t cotton much to losing sleep over a silly spook light, but she was determined to catch a glimpse of it, so they planned another midnight drive.

  It was a typical fall evening, warm in the day but cooling off as the sun set. The chill night air and a gentle breeze produced wisps of fog that drifted above the meadows. The rustler’s moon gave just enough light to make out the shapes of trees to either side of the gravel road.

  They traveled eastward over the stretch of road where Joe had seen the spook light. At a wide place, they turned the Model T around, drove back about four miles, and made another U-turn. They recalled the story that if a certain bridge were crossed a certain number of times, the devil would appear. There was a bridge over a small creek in the middle of the four-mile stretch they’d been driving, and not knowing which bridge was the “certain bridge” nor being sure of the “certain number,” they reasoned that since the devil’s number is 666, they should steer clear of the number six. Two round-trips meant they’d cross the bridge four times, so it was agreed that making two round-trips was the prudent thing to do.

  On the second circuit that night, they’d crossed the bridge for the third time and were about a mile from the east turnaround place when Joe pulled the transmission lever on the floor to its midpoint, pushed the throttle lever on the steering column up to idle speed, pumped the brake pedal, and turned off the headlights. The vehicle slid to a stop in the darkness.

  “Over yonder,” he whispered, “look to the left, through the trees ’n’ across that field. There’s a creek running through there, ’n’ I see a light a-followin’ the creek bed.”

  Joe opened the door. He stood on the running board and reached for the twelve-gauge double-barreled scattergun he kept beneath the driver’s seat. He felt for the bulge of his .38 Smith & Wesson revolver in his coat pocket . . . just in case it was needed.

  “Stay put in the car, Annie,” he said. “I don’t want you a-running loose in the wilderness.”

  “What are you doin’, Joe?”

  “If it’s a human out thar, I wanna know who it is.”

  “And if it ain’t human?”

  Joe tuned to Annie, lifted the right lapel of his coat, revealing his badge, and said, “Well then, I’ll jes flash my lawman’s shield ’n’ impress it into leavin’ peaceful-like.”

  “Joe,” she whispered. “Don’t shoot it. It might be a farmer a-looking for a stray out there.”

  “I ain’t a-goin’ to shoot the gol’ blasted thing les’un it shoots first. And it ain’t no man. It’s too high off the ground to be a lantern.”

  Annie often said, “I don’t skeer easy—’cept ’bout snakes, but I do git concerned.” And being concerned, she had no intention of sitting within the confines of anything. She quietly opened her door and stepped to the ground. She felt for the bulge of her Bible in her apron pocket . . . just in case it was needed.

  Annie tiptoed softly to the front of the car. She could see the light moving down the middle of the field. Sometimes it swayed from side to side, and once in a while, it would bounce up and down like a cork bobber, down at the pond, when a fish latched hold of the bait.

  Joe stood near the driver’s side of the car with the scattergun in his left hand, muzzle pointed skyward. “It’s a-moseyin’ along right close to the creek bed. ’Bout the same pace as a man on the trot.”

  “Maybe it’ll just keep a-goin’ where it’s headed,” Annie whispered.

  “I don’t think so, Annie. It’s makin’ a turn ’n’ comin’ this way.”

  Annie watched the light perform a wide turn. Her concern increased, and as she also often said, “When I’m gettin’ a mite concerned, I think of the scriptures . . . and if’n the stress don’t fade, I start a-singing church hymns.” She was contemplating an appropriate scripture.

  “Lookit, Annie! The blame thing’s a-makin’ a beeline dreckly at us!”

  The glowing orb was now thirty yards from the road. “Stop! I’m a deputy lawman, ’n’ I’m a-sayin’ stop!”

  “I don’t believe you impressed it, Joe.”

  Seeing the light coming straight at her, Annie forgot about a scripture and began mulling over a hymn appropriate to the occasion. The only hymns she could bring to mind were “Bringing in the Sheaves” and “This Little Light of Mine.” The latter seemed a tad improper, so she began singing the former.

  She finished the first four words of the hymn as Joe reached for the bulge in his coat pocket and yelled out, “Halt! Halt or I’ll shoot!”

  The light didn’t halt.

  Joe raised the pistol in the air and fired off two rounds while Annie sang the second line of the hymn. “Bringing—bang—in the—bang—sheaves . . .”

  The light didn’t halt.

  Annie yelled, “Joe! Let’s git in this motorcar!” But instead of moving, she began singing again, this time with a slight tremor in her voice and definitely at a higher octave. “We will come rejoicing, bringing in the sheaves.”

  The light was now less than twenty yards away from the road.

  Joe slipped the revolver back into his coat pocket and raised the scattergun. “I’ve got two barrels of double-aught buckshot aimed your way! Now stop!”

  The glowing orb was approaching the shallow ditch next to the gravel road.

  “Joe! Get in this here motorcar right now!” Annie screamed as she pulled the Book of Testaments from her apron pocket and held it aloft.

  Joe aimed his sawed-off shotgun, firing directly at the light—ka-boom. Annie, holding the book aloft, yelled, “Depart from us, ye that work iniquity, Matthew 7 somethin’!” Joe pulled the second trigger—ka-boom.

  The echoes of the ruckus faded away.

  Joe and Annie blinked their eyes. The light had disappeared.

  Joe stood next to the open driver’s side door of the motorcar. Annie stood to his right. They noticed the crisp night air and the soft breeze. They were aware of the rustler’s moon giving just enough light to make out the shapes of the trees to either side of the gravel road.

  Then they walked around the automobile, looking in and over and under the vehicle. They saw nothing unusual.

  The only sound was the motorcar still idling.

  Annie took up her place in the passenger’s seat. Joe walked slowly around the car again, then stepped up on the running board and slid into the driver’s seat.

  Finally, Annie broke the quiet. In a small voice, she sang, “What a friend we have in Jesus, all our sins and griefs to bear.” Her voice became stronger and more confident. “What a privilege to carry everything to God in prayer!”

  By the third line of the hymn, she was sounding as if she were singing solo at a tent revival meeting of deaf Baptists. “O what peace we often forfeit, O what needless pain we bear, All because we do not carry everything to God in prayer.”

  Joe eased the throttle lever on the steering column down, turned on the headlights, and started homeward down the dusty country road, crossing the bridge for the fourth time.

  On the last note of her song, Joe looked at Annie and said with a chuckle, “Now weren’t that somethin’ to behold? I don’t know which did the trick, the double-aught buckshot or Matthew 7 somethin’.”

  Annie didn’t say anything. She kept singing more hymns, and Joe joined in with her. “Rock of Ages,” “Shall We Gather at the River?,” “Just a Closer Walk with Thee.”

  As they neared the town of Quapaw, their singing was now clamorous, and the houses were dark.

  Joe and Annie didn’t give a damn about waking folks. They continued singing . . . all the way home.

  That Damned Game

  Kristina R. Mosley

  Gravel popped under tires
. Lily Duncan grabbed her brown coat from the wooden rack by the door. She put it on over her blue knee-length dress and pulled her long silver braid out from the collar. A car door shut outside, followed by crunching on the driveway and then footsteps on the porch.

  The woman opened her door before her visitor could knock. The thin frame of Pauline Dobson stood before her on the porch. A pink floral shirt peeked out from her red wool coat, and a black beret covered her curly dyed-brown hair.

  “So you ready to go?” Lily asked.

  “It’s nice to see you too,” Pauline replied.

  Lily hobbled down the wooden steps, her cane tapping. She ambled across the dead grass and entered the passenger side of Pauline’s powder blue car.

  “Thanks for picking me up,” Lily said. “I’d drive, but you know how my nerves get me.”

  Her companion sighed as she pulled out of the driveway. “Don’t pretend it’s your ‘nerves.’ Everyone in town knows you got your license suspended because you had too many speeding tickets.”

  “Well, my nerves made me hit the accelerator so hard.”

  The old women were quiet as the car moved down the road, away from town.

  “Are we playing at the church or the lodge today?” Lily asked finally.

  “Neither, actually. Helen Crosby told me about this new place.”

  “Really? Where is it?”

  “It’s down towards Taylorsville. Helen’s never been there, but it’d be a good change of pace, wouldn’t it? We could see new places, meet new people.”

  Lily didn’t reply. She didn’t like the idea of going somewhere new. The lodge and the church were familiar. You’re being unreasonable, though, Lily told herself. Let Pauline go to the new place.

  “What’s wrong, Lily?” her friend asked. “You’re being awfully quiet.”

  “I was just thinking about how I’m too stuck in my ways.”

  “Oh,” Pauline replied quietly. A few moments later, she turned left, guiding the vehicle down a bumpy dirt road lined with trees.

  “Where is this place?” Lily asked.

  Pauline scanned the horizon. “Helen said it was a few miles down this road.” The woods grew darker the further the car went. She flicked on the headlights.

  “The bingo hall is this way?” Lily asked.

  “I guess,” the driver muttered quietly. The car’s headlights shone on a cluster of trees at the end of the road.

  “It’s a dead end,” Lily said.

  Pauline didn’t respond, continuing to drive toward the trees.

  “Are you trying to get us killed?” Lily shouted.

  Pauline stomped on her brakes. “There it is,” she said, pointing to her right.

  Lily’s eyes widened as she saw a small red brick building. “You sure this is the right place? I don’t see any cars.”

  Pauline pulled into the parking lot, which was little more than a patch of bare dirt. She pointed to a sign that had the words “Seniors’ Bingo, Feb. 20, 1:30 pm” stenciled in black paint. She looked at her watch. “It’s 1:25.” She shut off the car and got out.

  Lily remained in the passenger seat, staring at the building. A feeling of dread tightened in her chest. Something’s wrong here, she thought.

  “Are you coming?”

  “Yeah,” Lily said shakily. She got out of the car and limped to the door where Pauline already stood.

  They entered a well-lit cream-colored hallway. Amber light fixtures cast a golden glow on the walls and the white tile floor.

  “Well, this is nice,” Pauline said.

  Lily nodded. “It’s a lot nicer than any place I’ve played bingo in before.”

  “I wonder where we’re supposed to go.”

  The women walked around, trying to find another person. Pauline stopped to admire a large landscape painting, while Lily looked into a big mirror with a gold-painted frame. The soft lighting concealed the old woman’s wrinkles, making her appear decades younger.

  “I need to take this mirror home with me.”

  Someone chuckled behind her. That wasn’t Pauline, she realized. A man’s reflection peered back at her from the mirror. She turned around, clutching her chest.

  “You almost scared the life out of me!”

  The man smiled. He was blond and looked no older than thirty. His red dress shirt was open at the collar. “My apologies.”

  Pauline stood next to her friend.

  “Good afternoon, ladies. Are y’all here to play bingo?” he asked.

  Lily didn’t hear a familiar twang on the word y’all. She didn’t think the man was from the area.

  “Yes, we are,” Pauline replied, stepping forward.

  “Great!” he exclaimed. “Nice to meet both of you. I’m Eric, and if you follow me, we’re just about to start.” He walked off, and Pauline immediately followed.

  “‘We’? There are other people here?” Lily asked. She struggled to catch up with Pauline and Eric.

  “Yes, there are,” Eric replied, turning slightly. “Everyone’s waiting to begin.”

  “Well then, where are everybody’s cars?”

  He didn’t answer. Instead, he turned left into a doorway. The two women followed.

  Lily looked around the rose pink room. About twenty women, anywhere in age from sixty to eighty, sat at long wooden tables, bingo cards in front of them. She didn’t recognize any of the women, which she thought was odd. She assumed she had met everyone in town over her eighty years. Well, we are closer to Taylorsville, she remembered. Surely, I don’t know everyone there.

  A small woman jumped in her path. She looked younger than the others. She wore her brown hair in a messy bob that rested against her receding chin. Large teeth protruded from her mouth. The woman’s beady black eyes darted from Lily to Pauline.

  “Hello,” she squeaked nervously. “Would you like something to drink? We have coffee, tea, hot cocoa . . .”

  “No, thanks,” Lily replied. “I don’t want to risk spilling something on my cards.”

  “I’ll take some cocoa,” Pauline answered.

  The ratlike woman poked her hands from the sleeves of her brown cardigan and poured a hot liquid from a carafe into a foam cup. She handed it to Pauline.

  “Oh!” Lily’s companion said enthusiastically. “It has miniature marshmallows.” She sipped carefully.

  Lily and Pauline took the only two empty seats that were next to each other. Bingo cards waited for them on the table.

  Eric walked over to a wooden podium. Beside him on a table sat a squirrel cage with colorful plastic balls inside. The rat woman stood next to him, ready to turn the handle. “Thank you for coming today,” he said. “Are y’all ready to play some bingo?”

  The women in the room murmured.

  “All right then,” Eric said with a smile. “Let’s get started.”

  The first prize the women played for was a gaudy green ring. Lily didn’t care if she won or lost. The women continued playing for trinkets, and the winners were delighted with their prizes.

  Five games had passed, and neither Lily nor Pauline had won anything. Lily leaned over and whispered in her friend’s ear. “I don’t know about this. Everyone else is winning.”

  “I noticed,” Pauline replied. “I was thinking about leaving after this game.” She took a long drink from her cup.

  Lily turned back to the front. The rat woman stared at her. She said something to Eric, and he nodded. When the game ended, Lily and Pauline both stood up.

  “Now,” Eric said, “we’re going to raise the stakes a bit.” The rat woman slid a white envelope to him. He held it up. “In this envelope is a gift certificate for fifty dollars in free groceries.”

  Lily and Pauline both sat down.

  Eric started calling numbers, and soon, Lily made a diagonal line on her card. “Bingo!” she called. She collected her prize and stuck it in her purse. Then everyone played for a crystal bell, bells being one of Pauline’s special favorites. She won it.

  Afterward, Lil
y and Pauline won alternating games, each time getting something they enjoyed. Lily won a travel-sized photo album, perfect for carrying pictures of her grandchildren, and a pink carrying case filled with crochet hooks. Pauline collected a porcelain parrot that resembled her late bird, Reynaldo, and a white silk fan with a cherry blossom tree painted on it.

  Lily became suspicious. “Something’s wrong, Pauline. We keep winning.”

  “So? It’s about time our luck changed.”

  “My luck’s not that good, though.”

  Another game started, but Lily didn’t pay much attention. Instead, she noticed the way the other women looked at Eric. There was a strange gleam in their eyes, something like lust. She glanced at Pauline. The same look was in her eyes. That’s not right, Lily thought. Pauline Dobson is the most prudish person I know.

  She turned her attention to Eric. He had a big smile on his face. She looked back at the women in the room. They should be ashamed of themselves, she thought. He’s young enough to be their grandson. Why are they acting like this?

  Lily saw that everyone else had a foam cup sitting in front of them. There must be something in the drinks, she realized. She knocked over Pauline’s cup.

  “Why did you do that!” her friend shouted.

  “It’s drugged.”

  “But . . . miniature marshmallows,” she said.

  The rat woman appeared, as if out of thin air, with a new foam cup. She set it on the table. “I have a fresh cup of cocoa for you, Mrs. Dobson.”

  Pauline smiled and sipped. “Thank you.”

  How did she know Pauline’s name? Lily wondered. “Something isn’t right about this place. I’m leaving.” She stood up, her chair screeching across the tile floor. She picked up her purse and headed toward the door. Pauline didn’t follow.

  She left the room and turned down the hallway. Eric stood in front of her.

  “How are you here?” she asked. “You’re calling the bingo game.”

  A shadow passed over his blue eyes. There was something ancient there, something far older than what Lily saw when she looked in the mirror every day. “Mysterious ways,” he replied with a grin.

  The old woman gasped. “You are not the Lord.”

  “Well, no . . .”

  “You must be the devil.”

  “I’m not him either. I’m just someone who gives people what they want.”

  “Well, I want to leave,” she replied. She pushed past him.

  “But why, Lily?” Eric asked. “Aren’t you having fun?”

  “It isn’t fun to win all the time.”

  He looked back at Pauline. She concentrated on her card with a slight smile on her face. “Your friend seems to be enjoying herself.”

  “She doesn’t know what’s going on.”

  “And you do?” he asked coldly. He stood close to her, his body blocking the light.

  She gasped but tried not to let her surprise show. “Not completely, but it’s not right.”

  “I’m giving you decrepit old women some happiness in your sad last days. How isn’t that right?”

  All fear left Lily at that moment, anger replacing it. She lifted her cane and hit Eric in the shin. “How dare you call me ‘decrepit’!” She continued to beat the man.

  He put up his arms to shield his head. “Fine!” he screamed. “If you want to leave so badly, go!” The building seemed to shake with his words.

  Lily hobbled as quickly as she could down the hallway. She was almost to the door and looked back. Eric was closer. She yelped and tried to quicken her pace. She pushed through the door and entered the cold winter air.

  Darkness greeted her.

  Oh Lord, I’m blind! she thought. She blinked a few times, and her eyes slowly adjusted. “How could it be nighttime?” she muttered as she walked. “It was only 1:30 when we got here. We weren’t in the building that long, surely.”

  The frigid air cut through Lily’s clothes, biting at her arthritic joints. She wished she’d taken Pauline’s keys, suspended license be damned. The cold would hurt her, and she didn’t know how to hotwire a car. She looked back at the bingo hall and contemplated going inside. No, she thought. I might not make it out again.

  She crunched unsteadily on the gravel. Pauline’s car was nowhere in sight. “They must’ve hidden it,” she said aloud. “I need to get some help.” She hobbled out of the parking lot and onto the dirt road. Her body ached with each bump in the road’s uneven surface, but she pressed on.

  The road was completely dark. The wind blew viciously, chilling her to the bone. She thought she heard noises in the trees on either side of her. She didn’t know if they were from normal night creatures or from worse things.

  “Help,” she prayed.

  Lily limped down the desolate road for what seemed like hours. She noticed something moving out of the corner of her eye. When she looked up, she saw two bright lights shining on the trees in front of her. She walked faster, thinking it was Eric trying to catch up to her. The lights grew brighter, and she jumped into the roadside brush to escape.

  “Ma’am, what are you doin’?” a man’s voice asked. It wasn’t Eric.

  Lily peeked out from her hiding place. A county police car was idling on the road. The driver, a man with greying hair and a plump face, had rolled down the window.

  She emerged from bushes. “I-I was walking,” she said nervously.

  “Where you walkin’ at this time of night?”

  “I was trying to find help. My friend is trapped in a bingo hall.”

  The police officer raised his eyebrows. “But ma’am, there ain’t no bingo halls out here, just woods.”

  “I was just there!” Lily shouted, waving her cane above her head.

  The driver’s side door opened, and the cop pulled himself, grunting, out of the car. He waddled over to the woman. He was barely taller than she was. According to his nameplate, he was Deputy Yates.

  “Ma’am, please calm down. I’ll take you home, maybe call a relative for you.” He put a hand on her arm, but she knocked it away.

  “We don’t have time for that. Pauline’s in danger.” She pulled open the door and sat in the front seat. “I’m going to show you where the bingo hall is since you obviously don’t know.”

  He sighed and got in the driver’s seat. The front of the car sank considerably. “Fine. Then I’m takin’ you home.” He started the car.

  “It was that way,” she said, pointing behind her.

  Yates made a U-turn and sped away. Lily peered through the windshield, searching for the building’s dirt driveway. She couldn’t find it.

  The car screeched to a halt. Lily put her hand against the dashboard to keep herself from flying out of the seat. “What did you do that for?” she screeched.

  The cop pointed. “The road’s a dead end.”

  “It was right here.” She got out of the car and started walking. She tried to remember how far the car was from the dead end when Pauline turned. That spot was nothing but trees now. “It was here, I swear,” she said softly.

  “Are you sure ’bout that, Mrs. Duncan? I ain’t sayin’ you’re lyin’, but maybe you dreamed it up. Maybe it was some kind of . . . delusion or somethin’. You are kinda up in years.”

  Lily smacked the police officer in the knee with her cane. “I may be old, but my mind’s still as sharp as a tack.”

  Yates tried to shake the pain out of his leg. “Well, your aim’s good anyway.”

  “I just don’t know what happened to Pauline.”

  “You know what? I bet she’ll turn up. We can’t do anything ’bout a missin’ adult before twenty-four hours, but I’ll make sure someone goes by her house tomorrow.”

  Lily didn’t like the idea of not looking for Pauline, but she didn’t know what else to do. Plus she was tired, her bones hurt, and she had medicine to take. “I suppose that’s all we can do.”

  “You can call the sheriff’s office tomorrow to check.” He guided Lily to the car. “Now where do you l
ive?”

  They drove in silence until Yates pulled up in front of Lily’s home.

  “Now you have a good night. Don’t worry about your friend. She’ll be fine.”

  “If you say so.”

  Lily saw the bingo hall again in her dreams. Rows of desiccated women sat at long tables, daubers in their hands. The rat woman gnawed on a fragile femur. Eric stood above them, still spinning the squirrel cage. He glared at Lily, his red eyes flashing.

  “Pauline won’t remember,” he snarled. “No one will believe you.”