by D V Wolfe
“The Reverend is coming by for a visit tomorrow, can’t just leave this pagan stuff around,” Rosetta said.
“What are you going to tell him about the smudges above all the doors and windows?” I asked.
“He’s eighty-four and has two titanium vertebrae. He has a hard time looking up. If he asks, I’ll tell him it’s just dirt and I’m not as young as I used to be when it comes to reaching the high places,” Rosetta said.
I was glad Rosetta had suggested we camp out in the living room. I didn’t want to sleep in the room I’d seen my father’s specter. Noah had piled some quilts and blankets on the floor and made up a bed for himself on the couch. He was already drifting off by the time I got back to the living room. Rosetta also had a loveseat but I unfolded another quilt on the floor so that I could stretch out.
“Night Rosetta,” I said to her as she passed by the living room on her way to the stairs.
“Now Bane, if I hear anything that even suspiciously sounds like you sitting up and filling shotgun shells or sharpening your machete, instead of sleeping, I will come pounding down those stairs and tan your hide. You need to sleep.” She lowered her voice, “Those pills aren’t going to work if the one taking them is so strung out that they’re hallucinating anyway.”
“I hear you loud and clear. I’ll see you in the morning, you old harpy.”
Rosetta snorted, “Harpies can’t hold a candle to a religious southern woman with a twelve-gauge.”
I had to agree.
She stomped up the stairs and I flicked off the lights and laid down. It was quiet and I listened to the familiar sounds of the house settling on its joists. In the hall by the door, the grandfather clock chimed. I was amazed it was still working after the carnage caused by the poltergeist. I picked my cell phone off the ground beside me and looked at the screen. No missed calls. I tried closing my eyes, imagining Nya somewhere getting fed information on how to kill a demon and maybe even confirmation that that demon held my deal and that killing him would release me and the townsfolk of Ashley. I closed my eyes and shook my head. Wouldn’t that be nice? I hated having to rely on her so much, but deep down, I knew I was lucky to have her. Just like Rosetta. Why the two of them went out of their way for me, I couldn’t figure out. This screw-up was mine and mine alone. At least Rosetta hadn’t forbidden me from going to St. Louis, even if Nya had. It would have been harder to fight the ball of spiky guilt in my gut if I had to defy both of them.
My cell phone started buzzing in my hand. I held it up to my face and saw a number I didn’t recognize. My heart pounded in my throat. Maybe it was Nya with some good news. I got to my feet and headed into the kitchen.
I flipped the phone open. “Hello?”
“Hey,” Nya said. “Just checking in.”
“Did you find anything?” I asked.
“Nothing to write home about. Two contacts that gave me almost nothing and a no-show super that I was hoping would have some answers about the contract-destroying business. I still haven’t found anything about how to kill a demon,” Nya said.
“Well,” I said. “I have a lead, but I doubt you’re going to like it.”
“That’s what I love to hear,” Nya said. She sighed. “Lay it on me.”
“Stacks is back in Messina, apparently. I figure if anyone would know how to kill…”
Nya groaned. “Stacks? Really, Bane? The guy that sold you out? You’re going to go get ‘career advice’ from him?”
I felt a tiny stab of annoyance. “Hey, you’re running down leads from all kinds of sources, right?” I asked.
“Well, yeah,” Nya said.
“I’m just doing the same,” I said.
“But it’s Stacks,” Nya said. “I’ll keep digging. Just, don’t trust him. You remember where that got you last time.”
She hadn’t forbidden me to go call on him, so I was counting that as a win. She promised to call again soon and we said goodnight. I laid back down and set my phone beside me. I could feel exhaustion hit me like a wave as I closed my eyes. This skinsuit was tired.
Burning, writhing bodies on the ground as it opened up, flooded my vision behind my eyelids. Screams and cries of pain echoed in my ears….
I sat up and dug in my pocket for the pills and popped another one. I laid back and stared at the ceiling, waiting for it to take effect. To be honest, I had forgotten what it felt like to rest. One day and one feeling just shifted into another. Physical pain from injury was a change, and in the last day, I’d felt amusement from having the kid around.
I turned my head to look at him on the couch. He was snoring softly. In a thin shaft of moonlight I could see his chest rising and falling. I kind of felt sorry for him. He had no idea what he stepped in when he climbed in that truck with me. And I had to admit, his safety hadn’t exactly been a top priority when I picked him up. I hadn’t wanted to leave him as a cannibal Happy Meal, but beyond that, I hadn’t thought much about how safe he was with me. Instead, I’d made him go on a hunt. I’d needed bait. I’d needed help to take down that Rawhead.
I gave an inward sigh and shook my head. This. This exactly is why I worked best alone. Noah had a life ahead of him and I hadn’t even paused to consider that. I should probably have said yes to Rosetta taking care of him and sending him home. I paused to think about what had happened at the dinner table. But what if his condition got worse? What if he couldn’t control it? If he was with me, I could keep an eye on him and make sure Rosetta was safe. Besides, if we sent him home, would he be arrested? But his mom must be worried sick. And now, what was ahead for us? A demon. A big mother-sucker. And I was currently unarmed against it. Christ, this was going to be one for the record books if we could pull it off. If I could pull it off. What was with this we thinking? Maybe I could leave the kid with Stacks. If anyone deserved to be set on fire, it was Stacks. I closed my eyes, grinning at the thought.
I must have fallen asleep because the next thing I knew, I was standing in front of the old barn in Ashley. I looked down and saw I was wearing my old overalls, bare feet poking out under the rolled pant legs. This wasn’t good. The hot wind beat at my face and stirred my short chopped hair into snarls. I was fifteen and still, my dad insisted on cutting my hair into the same bob I’d had my whole life. I turned to look out at the fields. The crops were dead as far as the eye could see, turned to dust and chattel on their stocks, dry as old bones in a riverbed.
I looked back at the farmhouse and saw my dad driving off in the ‘49 Ford pickup. Lucy. I ran after the truck.
“Dad!” But he was gone, heading for town. I could see the strange black clouds in the sky hanging over the grain elevator and the outlines of the buildings, despite the winds that should have pushed them away. At this point I lost control of what happened. I was taking a backseat to the memory. The pain in my gut told me that I knew where he was going and what he was about to do.
I reached into my pocket and pulled out the old Band-Aid tin that Miss Sylvie had given me. She’d said it could grant me a wish if I buried it out on the road in front of our house where that road intersected with the one from town. She’d shown me what was inside when she gave it to me; dried flowers, a cat bone, a handful of dirt, and a black rock. She’d told me to put my school picture in there too before I buried it. I’d taken it out of the frame in the house. It was an old picture, from the last time we’d been able to afford the school pictures, back before Ma died. I ran for the crossroads, a funny feeling washing over me. I shook it off as worry. If this didn’t work. If Dad…
The hot wind hit me from behind as if it was pushing me towards the crossroads. I ran as fast as I could and hit the ground on all fours where the two dirt roads met. I crawled right to the center, just like Miss Sylvie had told me. The ground was so hard under a thin layer of dust and I had to use the tin to dig deep enough to bury it. I dropped it in the shallow hole and pushed the dusty earth back on top of it. I stood up and looked around. I wasn’t sure if something would pop out of the ea
rth like a genie from the storybooks or if I should just say the wish out loud. “I wish for our crops to not fail this year and for my Dad to not...” I couldn’t say it out loud. Hearing Dad say that he was going to kill himself over and over was already too much. I just needed him to be ok. I hoped whoever was granting wishes would understand what I meant. Nothing happened. The wind was blowing harder than ever around me. I turned a circle, hoping to see some change, see someone, anything that might tell me that the universe was listening and that my wish would come true. The wind was kicking up the dirt and creating a cloud of brown around me, making it impossible to see anything beyond. He’d be back soon. He’d be back, and I wouldn’t be able to do anything to stop him. He didn’t see me anymore. He didn’t hear me. He acted as if I was already gone, or he was.
I started crying. I was fifteen, almost sixteen and I knew I was too old to throw a tantrum, but at that moment, I couldn’t stop it. I screamed and kicked a rock with my barefoot. I barely registered the physical pain as I crumpled to the ground, my hands and knees digging into the dry soil, cursing and pleading, “I’ll do anything! Please just don’t let him do it!”
The winds died down and there was the sound of someone shifting their weight behind me. I turned to look. It was a man, standing there in black denim overalls. He had a red bandana tied around his neck and a white cowboy hat.
“ ‘Scuse me darlin’, but were you looking for me?” He pointed towards the road leading to town.
At first, I didn’t move. There wasn’t a car around and it was pretty clear this man had just appeared. The genie? Or maybe something better. I’d read about angels in Sunday school.
“Are you an angel, mister?” I’d asked, wiping the tears from my face with my dusty hands.
He smiled. “Were you needing something, Jessie?”
I felt a wave of relief that he knew my name. He had to be an angel.
He sat down in the dust beside me and put an arm around my shoulder. “What seems to be the trouble?”
I started crying again. “My dad. The crops, they’re dead. All of them. Every last dime we had, went into the crops this year and they just dried out in the dirt. Something’s wrong with this dirt. But Dad, he... he’s...acting like I’m not here anymore. He just talks to himself….and he...he’s gone to town to...to get a rope.”
“But if money is so desperate, you could sell the farm, the truck?” The man said.
I shook my head. “The bank is about to take both of them and after my ma died, Dad ran up debts with the trade store, trying to get the farm running again and hasn’t been able to pay it back. The crop this year was supposed to fix that.”
“I see,” the man said quietly. “Jessie, what would you be willing to give in exchange for me fixing the crops?”
I stared at him, “Anything.”
“Anything?”
I nodded. “Mister if you could save the crops, save my dad’s life, I’d give you anything I have.”
He nodded and pulled a folded piece of paper from the front pocket in his bib overalls. He unfolded it and handed it to me.
“Formalities,” he said. “Sorry but we have to observe them.” He took out a silver pen from another pocket and passed both to me. The paper was in a funny language. The first phrase was “Contra Animas”.
I looked at him. “You don’t have one in English, do you? I don’t know what this says.”
The man shrugged. “It’s part of the formalities. This one makes it so we can bargain. Just sign there.”
I signed. The ink from the pen was a dark red. I started feeling nauseous.
He pulled out a second piece of paper and handed it over. “This one seals our particular deal.”
I signed it. I looked up from the paper and I felt the wind change. I handed it back, along with the pen and the man stood, offering me his hand.
“Let’s take a little tour of your fields, Jessie.” The nausea was still there but it was covered by excitement.
We walked down the tractor path to the back forty and I felt tears spring to my eyes as I saw the wheat, golden and perfect, waving in a soft breeze and ready to be harvested. I turned a full circle and saw all the fields were the same. Perfect and with wheat prices up, this was going to be a harvest that saved all of it. I turned to look back at the man and I felt my heart drop.
For just a second, maybe it was a trick of the light, but his eyes had gone a hellfire red. I stared at him and he smiled down at me, his eyes growing dark again. I looked back at the farmhouse and I could see the pickup was back in the driveway. I ran to the house.
“Dad! Dad! Come see! Come look at the field!” There was no answer. I tore through the front door. The bare rooms were silent. Dad wasn't there. I went back outside and started for the barn. The man strolled after me as I ran across the hard-packed dirt to the old barn.
“Dad!” I called when I reached the barn door. I heard the creaking of rope on the rafters. I pounded up the stairs to the hayloft. “Dad! Look at the fields!” I turned around at the top of the ladder and saw my father swinging in the light breeze. The homemade noose cut into his skin. His face was gray and lifeless.
I just stared at him, not believing what I saw. I heard laughing somewhere below. I walked to the edge of the barn loft and looked down. The man was standing there, looking up at me. He took off his cowboy hat and I could see how twisted and distorted his head was becoming. Flat on top with jagged spikes growing out of the skin over his ears. And bright coal-red eyes.
“Guess we were too late, little Jessie. Your father was in a hurry to beat you downstairs. No matter. You’ll be with him soon.” Then, he disappeared.
I was numb. The first time in my life I remembered feeling so numb. I scrambled down the ladder and out into the barnyard, looking for the man. What kind of angel has spikes and hellfire eyes? Was it the devil? I collapsed onto the porch step and stared blankly at the darkening sky. I didn’t move. Hours bled into each other and the sky grew darker, the clouds churning overhead. Not a single star came out and the winds were howling around me. I still couldn’t move, couldn’t wrap my head around what had just happened.
There was a boom of thunder overhead and it started to rain. Not water, but ash. I looked up and in a long flash of lightning, I saw the clouds overhead beginning to churn like waves. Another boom of thunder and flash of lightning showed the clouds were moving, almost in a straight line, towards town. My town. The only people I had left in my life now. I was on my feet before I realized what I was doing. I climbed in Lucy and turned the key in the ignition. I got her started and backed out across the garden, hearing the tires hit and snap green stalks of vegetables that were suddenly full of life again. I barrelled down the road, my headlights illuminating the ditches, now full of the sunflowers that I hadn’t seen since my ma was alive.
When I reached the edge of Ashley, I hit the brakes. The streets were full of people. My friends and neighbors and people I just knew, burning alive and screaming. I grabbed the flannel shirt sitting on the seat beside me and kicked my door open. I jumped down and ran for Posey Pickens, a little girl from the church who was laying in the dirt, crying, with her braids on fire. I covered her head with the flannel, trying to suffocate the flames. When I pulled back, the flames had spread instead and she just looked up at me with glassy, empty eyes. Her final expression, one of pure terror.
Mr. Crothers was screaming and crying a few feet from me, trying to put himself out in the rain barrel in front of the farm supply store. I ran to help him, scooping water from the barrel and pouring it over his head. But the flames acted like the water was gasoline. He fell to the ground and tried rolling. I tried patting him with the flannel shirt but he screamed louder as if the flannel was fanning the flames. When the screams finally stopped and the flames on his back burned even brighter, I knew he was gone.
I just stood dumbstruck as all around me, the people I knew and cared about, screamed, and cried, unable to quench the flames that were killing them.
The ground at my feet began to rumble and it didn’t take much to drive my knees into the dirt. I heard the pickup groan behind me as the earth opened up and the incline tipped me forward. I heard the truck begin to roll towards me. I didn’t care. The ground was opening up, right at the center of town and we were all caught in a landslide of ash and fire and screams, heading right for it. I just let it come. I had a fleeting stab of desire to get in the truck, drive away from here.