The Dark-Thirty

by Patricia McKissack

  On the morning of June 7, 1968, Leddy addressed a small group who’d gathered outside the storefront office of the Center for Progress Through Peace, where she worked. “Yes, it’s true. It’s true. Robert Kennedy is dead. Martin was for peace and he was killed. Malcolm X said fight back and he was killed. Robert Kennedy said stop this senseless war, and now he’s dead!” Leddy was screaming at this point. “Anybody who stands up for right gets shot in this country! Robert Kennedy is dead! Love, peace, equality, justice, and freedom have died, too!”

  Someone snatched the mike and pulled her inside the building.

  “Hey, cool it.” It was Germaine, director of the C.P.T.P and a veteran civil rights activist. “Don’t start a riot,” he said firmly, though his eyes were gentle and kind.

  Since Joe’s death, Germaine and his wife, Sylvia, had been like parents to Leddy, taking mother and son in, giving Leddy a job.

  Leddy wouldn’t deliberately hurt Germaine or the Center. But she felt herself spinning out of control. She trembled with emotion. “That’s it! I’m sick and tired of cooling it! I’m burning up with cool!” Leddy paced back and forth as she talked. “I was cool when a woman put a loaded shotgun to my head just because I was sitting at an all-white lunch counter. I stayed cool when firemen turned hoses on me for peacefully protesting the murder of innocent children in a church bombing. I was cool when they murdered Martin Luther King. And I was supercool when they told me that little Nealy would never see his father, because Joe had been killed in a place most of us can’t pronounce. Don’t talk to me about being cool, Germaine! What has being cool done for me? Nothing!”

  “Okay, okay,” Germaine said gently. “Just calm down, now.”

  Leddy covered her face with her hands and wept. “I’m so tired,” she sobbed. Germaine handed her a tissue, and she wiped her eyes. “For all our efforts, what has changed, Germaine? Are people living in better housing? Are people getting good health care? Is it really better now than it was ten, twenty years ago? I wanted so much more for my son.”

  Germaine sighed. “So did I. We all did.”

  Germaine and Sylvia and all her friends at the Center tried to talk Leddy into staying, but she’d made up her mind. She was going to get out of Memphis.

  “I realize now,” she said, stepping on board the bus, “that there’s no way for me to change the world, but I do have something to say about the piece of earth where I live. We’re going where I hope it will be better.”

  “When you get settled, write us,” Germaine said with fatherly concern. “Take care.”

  Orchard City, situated in the mountains of eastern Tennessee, seemed an ideal spot to make a fresh start. Using some of her military survivor’s benefits, Leddy bought the old Lippincott place up on Orchard Mountain. What the new home lacked in modern conveniences, comfort, and style, it made up for in beauty and peace.

  The rural community received the outsider coolly at first, thinking she might be the advance of a hippie invasion. Leddy didn’t care. Nealy seemed to thrive in the new environment, and Leddy took joy in watching him romp and play freely in the solitude of their mountain home.

  But that peace was shattered when Nealy disappeared into the woods out behind the house one spring morning. Leddy charged into Sheriff Pete Martin’s office, on the verge of collapse.

  “My baby,” she cried, gasping for breath. “I—I was hanging out the wash. Nealy was beside me, but when I turned around, he was gone. He must have wandered into the woods. I looked and looked. Please come. I need help.”

  “Don’t get yourself in a stew,” the sheriff said calmly. “Nealy ain’t the first youngun who’s gone and got hisself lost in the woods. Usually we find ’em perched on a ledge too scared to move.” His words were meant to be kind, but Leddy was unconvinced.

  Sheriff Martin put together a search party and they combed Orchard Mountain from bottom to top and back down again. Nothing. Not a clue.

  When they hadn’t found Nealy by nightfall, an uneasiness settled over the searchers.

  “A two-year-old ain’t got much chance up here alone,” Leddy overheard one of the men say She knew it was true. Orchard Mountain challenged the best hikers and hunters, and some of them had to be brought out by helicopter.

  Finally Jay Wilson’s hounds tracked the boy’s trail to a ledge, where they found his brown teddy bear.

  “It’s Nealy’s favorite toy,” Leddy told the sheriff. Her lip quivered, but she refused to cry. “He—he called it Boo!”

  Sheriff Martin couldn’t hide the concern on his face. Leddy saw it and responded. “If he fell from that ledge,” she argued, “then where is his body?”

  “Wild animals …”

  The story preempted the Vietnam War news for three days running. A Boy Scout troop came from Knoxville to join in the search, and a motorcycle club also helped. Germaine and Sylvia even came to aid their friend but by the end of the week the media had withdrawn, and the volunteers had, one by one, given up hope and gone home. “I’d keep a-looking,” Sheriff Martin told Leddy, “but without leads, I don’t know where to start.”

  Germaine and Sylvia were the last to leave. When Leddy was alone, she let herself cry. “I’ll never stop looking for you, baby,” she sobbed. Then she dried her eyes and pulled herself tall. “I know you’re not dead. A mother knows such things.”

  Leddy refused to leave her mountain home for more than an hour at a time, hoping Nealy might come back. Day after day she went to the woods and called the boy’s name over and over.

  “Ain’t a bit natural,” the women said when they heard her pitiful cries. “Leddy needs to forget about that baby. He’s dead for sure, and holding on to hope when there ain’t no hope just ain’t natural.”

  Leddy knew what they were saying, but she stubbornly refused to despair. “My baby will be back,” she said. “I know it.”

  Leddy’s faith paid off. One year, two months, three days, and four hours after his disappearance, Nealy was found on the steps of the Mount Olive African Methodist Episcopal Church, naked as a jay and smelling like he’d tangled with a family of skunks. Except for a few scratches and a lot of chigger bites, he seemed none the worse.

  Reverend Clyde Anderson sent somebody to get Leddy Meanwhile, he declared Nealy’s return a miracle and Mother Jacobs sang “Amazing Grace.” There hadn’t been that kind of spirit in the AME Church since Old Abe, the town drunk, put down the bottle and joined church. The whole congregation was moved to tears when Leddy laid eyes on her son for the first time in more than a year.

  The boy’s return raised a lot of questions, and Sheriff Martin decided to reopen the case to get answers. Where had Nealy been? Who with? Why was he taken? Why did they bring him back? Or did he find his way back alone?

  The investigation began with Nealy being given complete physical and psychological examinations at the university hospital in Knoxville. When asked about his experiences, the boy offered no help. He made a lot of sounds, but the team of pediatricians who examined him thought it was just baby talk.

  Sheriff Martin joined Leddy in the conference room.

  “Except for your son’s delayed communication skills,” Dr. Jamison, the chief doctor, explained to Leddy, “little Nealy is in remarkable shape.” The doctor groped for words. “But he shouldn’t be. Your son’s body shows signs of extreme trauma.”

  Pointing to the x-rays, the doctor said, “There have been severe injuries to his spine, lungs, liver, and spleen. Such injuries should have killed him. But through some miraculous healing process this child got well. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  Another doctor immediately began his report. “I’ve examined Nealy’s lab work, and frankly I don’t know what’s going on. His blood cells look healthy, but they are slightly altered—a mutation of some kind we’ve never seen before. We’d have to do many more tests to determine that.”

  Next, the child psychologist introduced herself and gave her report. “Mrs. Morrison, contrary to what we suspected wh
en we saw the x-rays, Nealy has no brain damage, either. He’s alert, responsive, interacts well with others. Your child is a healthy, active three-year-old—and very, very bright. However, his verbal skills confuse me. I don’t agree with my colleagues that it’s just jibberish. I’d like to do more tests, too.”

  Leddy looked at Nealy playing on the floor. He seemed curious about everything, pointing first to one thing, then another, and jibber-jab bering nonstop. “I must admit your reports are disturbing. But tell me this. Is my son okay?”

  “We don’t have a lot of answers,” Dr. Jamison said. “But one thing is for sure. Somebody has taken very good care of this child. He’s in excellent physical condition.”

  “Who?” Sheriff Martin interrupted. “That’s what I want to know. Who took this child, and why? I don’t believe in the little green men in the spaceship,” he said.

  Leddy raised her hand for them to stop. “I don’t care about who, why, or where. Nealy is back with me, and that’s all that matters.”

  The doctors pleaded with Leddy to let them study the boy longer, but Leddy wouldn’t allow it. “Don’t you think my child has been through enough? Maybe later I’ll let you do more tests, but not now.”

  And she retreated to the mountain and began piecing their lives back together.

  It didn’t take long for Leddy to start noticing things about Nealy—curious things that troubled her. He refused meats and sweets, choosing a fresh apple over a piece of Leddy’s homemade apple pie every time.

  But stranger still was the rate of Nealy’s hair growth. Even accounting for longer styles, his hair needed to be trimmed almost every day. Leddy noticed something else. Nealy no longer sucked his thumb and he was potty-trained.

  “Who helped you break those habits but didn’t teach you to talk?” she wondered.

  The boy was full of sounds, but they made no sense. As he tried to understand or make himself understood, Nealy got confused and cried. Sometimes the child wept softly, for no reason Leddy could figure out, or he’d stand in the backyard looking toward the woods, making guttural noises.

  The doctors had told Leddy that Nealy had delayed language skills. They suggested she talk to him a lot and read to him regularly. But reading time was the most frustrating part of the day for both mother and child. Though Nealy seemed eager, he lost interest as soon as Leddy began.

  “Oh, Nealy,” she said, on the verge of tears. “I’m trying so hard. Please be patient with me.”

  “Toi ben tu,” Nealy said, snuggling against her. “Toi ben tu,” he repeated.

  Leddy didn’t know what the boy meant, but she smiled and kissed him. “I love you, little boy. And don’t you ever forget it.”

  Then one day Leddy stumbled on to something. “Let’s have a glass of orange juice,” she said, showing Nealy the carton.

  Nealy shook his head. “Saawa,” he said, pointing to a pitcher of water. “Saawa.”

  After nervously pouring a glass of water, Leddy handed it to her son. “Saawa.” She repeated the word he’d used.

  Nealy took it, smiling proudly because he’d finally made himself understood. After gulping down the water, he bounded off, chattering and squealing playfully.

  Leddy followed behind him, desperate to know more. “Read,” she said, holding up a book.

  “Froce,” he said, taking it and climbing up onto his mother’s lap. Opening the book, Leddy pointed to the colorful pictures. “Bird,” she said.

  Nealy covered his mother’s mouth with his hand and shook his head. “Naga,” he said. “Naga.”

  The next page. “Tree.”

  “Pota.”

  Leddy turned the page to a large brown bear. Nealy touched the picture with remembering fingers. “Boo Mama.” He clapped his hands and giggled. Then, trying to lift the image off the page, he shouted, “Boo Mama!” He kissed the picture. “Toi ben tu, Boo Mama!”

  Leddy’s heart leaped with joy “You remember,” she said, putting Nealy down and rushing to the hall closet. Rummaging through a box, she found the tattered brown bear Nealy had affectionately called Boo.

  She offered it to Nealy, but he pushed it away. “No. Boo Mama,” he said, pointing out the window and growing more fretful.

  “This is Boo. Don’t you recognize your friend Boo?”

  No matter how hard Leddy tried, Nealy wouldn’t be comforted. Looking out the window, he called again and again, “Boo Mama. Boo Mama. Boo Mama.”

  That night Nealy cried himself to sleep. And so did Leddy.

  At first light, Leddy and Nealy caught the bus to Knoxville. The first place she stopped was the language lab at the university. She gave them Nealy’s words and asked that they translate them and identify what language they were from. They told her it would take a few days to research, but if she’d leave a self-addressed, stamped envelope, they promised to forward their findings.

  Then she went to the library and found several books about child development. Nealy paged through a picture book while Leddy read: “Children often make up their own words for things. They create imaginary playmates and creatures with whom they can share a secret world.”

  On the way to the bus station she and Nealy stopped to get ice cream. He seemed to enjoy the treat and laughed when it touched his nose.

  “Thank … you … Mama,” he said haltingly. “Thank you.”

  “Oh, Nealy!” Leddy shouted for joy. “You said words! And you called me mama!”

  “Toi ben tu, Mama,” he said.

  Leddy was more convinced than ever that Nealy’s strange talking was only a developmental phase. He was going to be fine—just fine.

  It had been a wonderful day, until Leddy undressed Nealy for bed. A strip of hair had grown down the middle of his back. Leddy touched it with shaking hands. Overcome by guilt, Leddy reprimanded herself. “Maybe you should have let the doctors do more tests.” But as she held Nealy close in her arms, she felt comforted.

  Finally Nealy went to sleep. Exhausted, Leddy fell across her bed and fell asleep, too. She was awakened by a mournful wail that rose from the woods, filling the night with horror. Then came a metallic odor—a foul mixture of sulfur and coal—that she recognized as the smell that had been on Nealy when he came back.

  Leddy rushed to the boy’s room. He wasn’t in his bed, under it, or in the closet.

  She heard footsteps outside the house and looked up in time to see a large shadow move across the window. Was it a bear? Any minute she expected a wild animal to crash through the door. Leddy dropped to her hands and knees so as not to be seen, then crawled down the hallway. “Nealy!” she whispered. “Where are you?”

  “Mama!” he said, running to her from the bathroom. “Mama,” he said, taking her hand and leading her to the kitchen. He wanted her to open the back door.

  “No,” Leddy said, pulling him away. “Come here.” There was someone—something—at the back door. She could hear it breathing. Leddy held on to the boy tightly, but he struggled to free himself. “Boo Mama!”

  Confused and terrified, Leddy yelled to the intruder, “Leave us alone. Please go away!”

  It was hard to tell how long she sat on the floor holding Nealy, too afraid to move. At last, when she thought it was safe, Leddy stood up and peered out the window, searching the moonlit backyard for signs of life.

  “Mama,” Nealy said, reaching up. Leddy lifted him to the kitchen counter. He looked out the window and waved. “Boo Mama,” he said, pointing to the woods. A moonbeam fell across the boy’s face and Leddy saw, to her horror, that his eyes were flame red.

  Morning arrived on a spectacular note. Spring was inching its way up Orchard Mountain, but Leddy paid no mind to the flowering dogwoods that laced the woods. She ventured into the trees for another reason.

  With a shotgun hoisted over her shoulder and Nealy in tow, she waited, not knowing what to expect.

  Right away she felt watched. Suddenly the normal hum of the woods had stopped. The absolute silence was unsettling. “Now is the hour. Sta
y cool,” she said, steeling her nerve and proceeding with the plan.

  Circling the area, Leddy returned to the clearing behind the house. “Stay here in the backyard, Nealy,” she ordered. “I’m going into the house to get us some water.”

  No sooner was she inside the door than the powerful odor came. Nealy recognized it and started toward the woods. “Boo Mama,” he called, his arms outstretched.

  By using an old hunters’ trick, Leddy had doubled back through the house and reentered the woods from downwind. She hid in a clump of bushes that gave her a clear view of Nealy. He stood in a clearing, calling, “Boo Mama.” With the shotgun leveled and steady, she saw something incredible.

  A hairy creature, big like a bear but with human features, emerged from a clump of bushes opposite Leddy. Without a single measure of fear or repulsion, Nealy rushed toward the creature, jabbering in his unknown tongue.

  Gently the creature bent to scoop the child in its enormous arms, enveloping him with a big hug. “Boo Mama!” Nealy squealed happily.

  Leddy watched the bizarre reunion with a mixture of fear and surprise. She was bewildered by the obvious trust and affection Nealy had for the creature. None of it made sense. Stepping from the safety of her hiding place, she aimed the shotgun at the creature’s head. “Put my baby down, or I’ll blow you to kingdom come.”

  The creature pivoted and lowered Nealy to the ground. The boy clung to its legs.

  “Come to me, Nealy,” Leddy ordered in her no-nonsense voice, holding out her arm.

  Nealy was confused and looked to the creature for permission.

  It nodded. “Mama.” The boy walked toward Leddy, looking back to make sure his friend was still there.

  “Who? What are you?” Leddy asked. “What have you done to my child?”

  The creature remained motionless, gazing at the gun with wondering red eyes.