He’d expected to be gagging from the smell of cow poop as he had years earlier, but now the air was clean. His grandfather had told him how farmers covered their fields with manure in the spring to help the crops grow. He’d cringed. He might be eating food that had been grown in cow shit.
The ‘No Service’ icon on his phone never went away. His cellphone battery was almost dead anyway after the long trip. Someone in the town had to be connected to the Internet. How could anyone survive without it?
Before they pulled into his grandfather’s driveway, they passed a small one level house with a large forest behind it. Bex’s house and the forest where they had played years earlier. His grandfather’s only neighbor was a short walk away. As a preteen, the distance between them was like traveling to another town, but now the roads and fields and farms appeared smaller.
After they parked, Michael stepped out of the car and stretched, trying to remember why he had agreed to come in the first place. After his grandfather turned off the car, the lack of noise startled him. Birds chirped and a light wind brushed against his face, but aside from the cows, no other cars or people were within sight. The sun shone on his face as he walked beneath a large tree next to his grandfather’s parked car and toward the house’s back door. Back home he would’ve spent a sunny day like today cruising around town smoking weed in the backseat with his friends.
His grandfather opened the trunk and lifted Michael’s two suitcases out onto the driveway. The larger one was super heavy, jammed full of clothes and his favorite graphic novels, and he had struggled to carry both through the airport earlier that morning.
He couldn’t let his grandfather carry his bags. “Oh, sorry, Grandpa,” he said, reaching for the heaviest suitcase.
“I got them,” his grandfather replied, gesturing for him to get inside.
Michael grabbed the larger suitcase anyway and plodded with it across the driveway to the back door. He went inside the house expecting his grandmother to be waiting for him in the kitchen, but she wasn’t there. He set his suitcase beside a row of worn out boots. A dark haired woman came out of his grandparents’ bedroom with a wide grin on her face. He recognized her, although he didn’t make a connection right away.
“Michael,” she paused, “don’t you remember me?”
He tilted his head. “Yes,” he lied.
“Rebecca’s mom.”
Bex. The memories flashed through his mind. During his family’s last visit, she gave out ice cream treats on a hot summer day and took his family to visit the town’s post office, where she’d worked as a clerk.
Michael nodded. “Where’s Bex?”
“She goes by Rebecca now. She’s in town with a friend.”
His grandfather walked in the door with the smaller suitcase.
“Audrey’s been helping take care of your grandmother,” his grandfather said.
“Rebecca’s looking forward to seeing you again,” Audrey explained.
Michael nodded.
“You’re so grown up!” Audrey said.
“Your grandmother’s taking a nap,” his grandfather clarified. “We’ll have supper tonight at Audrey’s house while the nurse stops by to check on your grandmother.”
“Is grandma okay?”
Audrey’s smile dropped, and she looked at his grandfather.
His grandfather took a step toward him and looked into his eyes. “She’s got dementia. You know what that is, right?”
“Sort of.”
“She forgets stuff and talks to herself a lot,” his grandfather said. “She doesn’t remember us sometimes so don’t be surprised if she doesn’t know your name. It’s just her medical condition. It’ll get worse over time.”
“She might recognize you,” Audrey said.
“You can visit with her later,” his grandfather replied.
His grandfather reached down to pick up the lighter of Michael’s two suitcases. “You’ll be in your usual room upstairs. Take some time now to get unpacked and relax. I’ll let you know before we head to Audrey’s for supper.”
“I’ll get the suitcases, Grandpa,” Michael said. His grandfather had already carried the suitcase over to the bottom of the stairs. Michael lifted both and dragged them up the stairs.
His grandmother’s paintings lined the staircase walls. Some paintings featured the outdoors or were still lives with antiques. Her painting style reminded him of a field of flowers: each dab of color a different flower. Back home, a few of her paintings hung on the walls of his parents’ bedroom. Besides the outdoor scenes, his grandmother preferred painting clowns for some strange reason. She was a clown, so maybe her intention was a self-portrait.
Someone had hung one of the clown paintings upside down. The painting after that showed a field with an old barn rotting away in the middle. A large black streak curled around the side of the barn like a giant spider wrapping its legs around its prey. He hadn’t seen that painting before. It wasn’t like his grandmother’s other paintings. Maybe it wasn’t hers.
He lumbered up the stairs with the suitcases until the hot, stale air suffocated him. His mouth hung open as he searched for a window to open. Had anyone opened the windows upstairs within the last few years? An outdated air conditioner stuck through the lower half of the only hallway window, and a web of duct tape patched it into place. The dial knob to select the ‘coolness’ setting was missing, replaced with locking pliers clamped to the metal switch. At least they had air conditioning. It’d be a long ‘vacation’ if it didn’t work.
The room hadn’t changed since he’d slept in it years earlier, and he recognized the hand stitched quilt covering the bed. Had they even changed the sheets? Stacks of boxes against the walls towered up to the ceiling and crowded between bookcases. One massive oak bookcase blocked the only window. Boxes, some clearly labeled, filled each shelf of the bookcases: pens, toy car parts, magazines, and many boxes had no label.
His mom and dad had always slept in the other upstairs room across the hall, which had been his dad’s room growing up. His grandfather had always reminded him of that fact during every visit. Now that room was his grandmother’s painting studio.
“Turn on the air conditioning if you want,” his grandfather called from the bottom of the stairs. “I forgot to do that.”
“Thanks, Grandpa,” he said.
He dropped his backpack onto the bed and went to start the air conditioner. He rotated the locking pliers to his selected setting. It rattled to a start and whirred as hot air poured out from the vent along the top until the cool air kicked in.
They had cleared an antique wooden desk off for him, and a wooden chair with thick legs sat in front of the desk. He set his hand on the back of the chair and it wobbled. The bed creaked as he sat on the corner and sunk into the mattress. Maybe this had been his dad’s childhood bed. The overhead light cast a dull yellow haze over everything. He wasn’t sure how he’d make it through summer in that room, much less through the night.
Someone had labeled one of the boxes near the top of the bookcases ‘.44.’ Was it a .44 pistol? No way. His pulse quickened, and he stood up to get it. He stretched toward it, but it was out of reach. He carried his desk chair across the room, setting it down with care to avoid any noise and stood up on the seat. He pulled the box from the shelf and caught the bottom with his other hand. The weight shifted inside, and the box wobbled.
He climbed down and sat on his bed with the box next to him, lifting the lid off like a child opening a Christmas present. A black .44 pistol lay atop a white towel, surrounded by cleaning tools and two boxes of rounds. It reminded him of an old Nazi Germany gun from a World War II movie. He weighed the cool metal in his hand, and he aimed it across the room at a lamp like an assassin. His fingers stayed off the trigger, and he pulled out the clip. It was empty. He slid it into his backpack along with one box of rounds.
4
Michael walked beside his grandfather on their way to Audrey and Rebecca’s house, which sat on the
same side of the road, maybe a hundred yards away, and closer to town. He forced himself to walk slower than normal so his grandfather could keep up with him. Ahead of them, at the side of the road, sat a white van like the one he had seen at the town’s entrance. He was too far away to see the driver, but he couldn't help but feel they were watching them.
His grandfather motioned to the van. “Nosy neighbors ahead.”
“What do they want?”
“They’re suspicious of visitors.”
They arrived at Rebecca’s doorstep, and his grandfather knocked. A moment later, Audrey’s beaming smile greeted them.
She stepped aside. “Come in.”
Michael expected to see Rebecca lying on the floor in front of the living room TV, as she used to spend her spare time in that exact spot, but the living room was quiet, and a potted plant had replaced the TV.
Audrey led them to the kitchen at the back of the house on the left. The dining room was on the right. A large three panel window overlooked a sprawling green lawn and the familiar forest he had played in with Rebecca so many times years earlier.
“Can I get you something to drink?” Audrey asked.
“Whatever you got,” his grandfather said.
“Do you have any soda?” Michael asked.
“Absolutely. Make yourself at home,” Audrey said. His grandfather led him to the kitchen table where they sat down with their backs to the windows.
Rebecca came around the corner after they’d received their drinks. Her long hair flowed over her shoulders, and her eyes lit up when she saw Michael. She still had the same mischievous smile he remembered from years ago. She was taller than he remembered, and she had lost the boyish look she’d had from their days in the forest.
“Hi, Michael!”
“Hello, Bex.” Michael watched as she helped Audrey carry food to the table.
“Well this will be an interesting meal,” Audrey said. “You two haven’t seen each other in…. How long has it been?”
“About five years.” Rebecca stole a glance at Michael, and her grin grew as she looked at him.
“We should have a lot to talk about. A lot of changes have happened in this town in five years.”
“Where’s your dad?” Michael asked.
Rebecca lost her grin and looked at her mother.
“We try not to think about it too much. Roger’s been gone for several months now. I believe the temple took him.”
“Mom, you don’t know that.”
“The temple took him, honey. I’m sure.”
Rebecca shook her head and sat at the table as her mom finished bringing over the final plates of food and drinks.
“Michael, I need to fill you in on everything that’s happened in this town since you were here last.” His grandfather turned to him. “I’m happy you’re here, but you’ll need to follow some rules if you want this vacation to be a good experience.”
Michael swallowed. Everyone stared at him.
“Things around Stone Hill are not how you remember them. The church I used to attend has grown in size and now controls the town. They’ll be watching you every time you leave our house. Their white vans are everywhere.”
“They’re not bad or anything,” Rebecca snapped. “Pastor John takes good care of us and protects us from the phantoms.”
His grandfather shook his head and let out a disappointed sigh.
“What are the phantoms?” Michael asked.
Rebecca leaned toward him as if about to reveal some great secret. “They come out at night and take sinners away.”
Audrey rolled her eyes. “Just don’t go out after dark.”
“Make sure you’re home before the sun goes down,” his grandfather instructed. “I’m serious.”
Audrey pushed a plate of chicken toward Michael. “What have you been up to over the last five years, Michael? We heard about your dad. I’m so sorry. He was a wonderful man. I went to high school with him, you know.”
Darkness welled up within Michael again, and he looked down at his plate.
“We all miss your dad,” his grandfather said. “And we all look forward to having you spend this time with us.”
Silence fell over the table as they ate when the silverware and plates clinked throughout the meal. Everyone stopped for a moment, and the house rumbled. An earthquake?
“Another quake, Mom.” Rebecca perked up.
Michael looked at his grandfather. The rumbling stopped after a few seconds.
“We’ve been getting a lot of those lately,” Audrey said. “Lord only knows where they’re coming from.”
“It’s the phantoms trying to get out, Mom,” Rebecca said. “Pastor John protects us from the phantoms, but they still try to get out.”
“Don’t believe everything Pastor John says, Rebecca.”
“Then what are they, Mom?”
“There’s a fault line in western Minnesota,” his grandfather said. “I’m sure there’s one deep below this town. Fault lines run everywhere across the US. No surprise we have one here.”
“Evil is trying to take over the town,” Rebecca said.
“That’s superstition,” Audrey said.
Rebecca didn’t answer.
“I don’t remember any earthquakes when I was here before,” Michael said.
“These are the end of days.” Rebecca looked at Michael in alarm.
“I assure you, Rebecca,” his grandfather said, “Pastor John has no idea what he’s talking about. He’s scamming you all.”
Rebecca grunted and continued eating.
“Have you seen one of those phantoms?” Michael asked Audrey.
“I have!” Rebecca’s eyes lit up. “I watched one move around in the forest behind our house from my bedroom window. They’re just like Pastor John said.”
“Just don’t go out after dark,” his grandfather said again. “And stay away from the woods.”
For the rest of the conversation, Michael listened to Audrey and his grandfather talk about what Michael and Rebecca might do in town. There was swimming at Stone Lake Beach, a social hangout for teenagers on the upper floor of city hall with pool tables and other games, and a multitude of events run by the temple. His grandfather encouraged him to stay away from any temple events. Audrey agreed.
After supper, Michael asked about watching television.
“Pastor John doesn’t want us to watch television,” Rebecca said. “He says it pollutes our mind.”
“I agree with him on that one,” Audrey said. “But if you can keep a secret, we still keep a small TV in our basement. We still get a few over-the-air channels.”
His grandfather looked at him. “Pastor John’s banned a lot of things over the last year or so. Things have become harsher lately. He’s been clamping down on everything from TVs to books to cell phones.”
He looked at Audrey. “Does anybody have a cellphone signal in this town?”
“Just the landlines. Be careful what you talk about. Say one little thing they don’t agree with and you’ll be paid a visit!”
“The temple somehow managed to eliminate all cellphone signals. Not that we had great reception way out here before they took over. Nobody can get through.”
“That’s one thing I miss,” Rebecca said, “texting with my friends.”
“It seems like every week that church comes up with a new rule.”
“Why don’t you just move?” Michael asked.
Audrey nodded. “We’ve thought about it. Or at least we were thinking about it before Roger disappeared. But now it’s too late. The temple won’t allow anybody to leave. Other people have tried to sell their house and move away, but the temple prevents anybody from buying property in this town. Buyers from other towns don’t want to move here because of the restrictions placed by the temple. The most we could do is move across town, and that doesn’t help. After Bex finishes high school, we’ll figure something out.”
“Rebecca, Mom,” Rebecca corrected.
�
��Sorry, honey. Sometimes I forget too. It’s hard to believe both of you will be graduating high school in a couple of years.”
His grandfather shifted in his chair and glanced out the back window. “Looks like we should get going. Wish we could stay longer tonight, Audrey, but I’m sure we’ll be seeing a lot of each other in the next several weeks.”
“It’ll be a fun summer having you around, Michael,” Audrey said. “You’re welcome to stop by anytime.”
Michael looked at Rebecca, and she smiled at him.
His grandfather stood and thanked Audrey for having them over. Michael looked back at the forest, remembering a tree house used to be there when he and Bex had played there years earlier. It was gone now, and the brush was overgrown. The darkness in the forest was thick.
“Do you ever go back there anymore?” he asked Rebecca.
She shook her head. “Not too much anymore. Not since the phantoms showed up.”
His grandfather gave Audrey a hug, and Rebecca stepped in and wrapped her arms around Michael. He held her for a moment, and she backed away.
“We’re going to have a blast. You’ll see,” she said.
On the walk back to his grandparents’ house Michael scanned the fields again. “Are those phantoms for real?”
His grandfather cleared his throat. “There’s something out there for sure. Just stay in the house after sundown, and you’ll be fine.”
The sun cast long shadows across the fields and sat low on the horizon ahead of them.
“Can I see Grandma tonight?”
“I’ll see how she’s feeling. Just remember that she loves you very much even though she might not know who you are. That damn dementia just eats up her mind.”
They walked in the door, and the nurse was sitting at the kitchen table reading a book. She stood up and put her book into a bag on the table.
Shadows Rising Page 3