The Hay Fort
By
Judith Ann McDowell
World Castle Publishing
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used factiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locations, organizations, or person, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
World Castle Publishing
Pensacola, Florida
Copyright © by Judith Ann McDowell 2012
ISBN: 9781938243295
First Edition World Castle Publishing April 15, 2012
http://www.worldcastlepublishing.com
License Notes
This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you respecting the hard work of this author.
Cover: Karen Fuller
Editor: Beth Price
Dedication
For my son David Lobie who gave me the inspiration for The Hay Fort.
Let all who know
The name of the beast
Give up his name
For he will not
Hold back his wrath
Against a child of the most holy
THE HAY FORT
Chapter One
Pacific Northwest-2011
The fort was finished now and able to accommodate two normal sized fourteen-year-olds comfortably, yet compact enough to afford them the body heat they would need when the warm days of summer moved on.
Untying the windbreaker from around his slim waist, Willie Coby dropped it on the hay-covered grass. “Sometimes I think we’re too smart for our own good.” He glanced over at his cousin, Butch, as he sat with his back against a hay bale grinning up at him. “With hardly any work, we got a place where no one can find us. Unless we want to be found,” he added, dropping down on the jacket.
“Hell, Willie, no one cares where we go. I bet no one even knows we’re gone now.” Butch unzipped his fleece-lined hoodie, reached into the inside pocket to produce the can of beer he had smuggled from the case back at the house. He popped the top and lifting the beer to his lips took a sip and swallowed quickly in hopes the bitter brew would not climb its way back up his throat. “The only way anyone will miss us is if Donnie the Dick narks us off.”
“He thinks he’s so big just because he’s already sixteen and able to drive.”
Butch took another sip, smiling as the alcohol slid down his throat without a problem. “You know though, sometimes I feel sorry for Donnie.” Butch drew a hand across his mouth. “His dad’s pretty hard on him.”
“Donnie brings most of it on himself.” Willie shook his head, as he always did, when Butch offered to share alcohol with him. “But yeah, I wouldn’t trade places with him. We might have stern parents, but that’s only because they love us.”
They both sat watching the autumn sun start its decline.
“Guess we better head back,” Willie said. “If we’re not around when the barbecue’s ready to hit the table we will be missed, then we won’t be allowed to take off as easily as we have been.”
They stood, staring out across the bales into the gathering dusk.
“Wonder who lives there?” Willie nodded at a surprisingly large house across the way.
“I don’t know, but it sure would be fun to go in and have a look around.” Butch crushed the empty can between his small hands; boyish pride stretching a silly grin across his young face.
The house in question was huge, white with tall pillars on each side of the porch and rolling green lawn that reached out to touch the surrounding hay fields.
Willie pushed his blond hair out of his face, a devilish grin teasing the corners of his mouth. “I think we should come back and watch who comes and goes, and when no one’s home, go investigate.
“I’m game if you are.” He stuck the crushed can inside the pocket of his sweatshirt to throw away later.
Willie bent down scooping up his jacket to pull it on.
At that moment, a large crow flew low over the hay bales, shadowing each face, its dark touch spinning them around.
“That’s some scary shit,” Butch breathed. “Crows are bad omens.”
“Who told you that?” He tried to slow his breathing.
“I don’t know, but I know I heard it.”
Not wanting to poke fun, but at the same time finding the moment too good to let pass, Willie jabbed a finger in Butch’s chest and said, “Okay, then I challenge you to prove that person wrong. It won’t take us long to get back to the barbeque.” He looked square into Butch’s eyes. “So let’s go have a closer look at that house.”
Butch felt his stomach tighten but knew he had to prove his worth and answer the challenge. Luckily, he had an entire can of bravery in his belly. “All right, let’s go.”
Excited now, Willie jerked on his jacket and they took off across the field. Up ahead, they could see an old school bus parked several hundred yards from the house.
Butch grabbed Willie’s arm. “Let’s go check out that old bus. I gotta take a dump anyway!”
“Butch, goddamn it, you can’t take a shit in the bus. Besides, what are you gonna wipe with?”
“There’s probably something I can find, a towel or dishrag or something. All I know is I gotta go real bad!”
“Every time you drink beer you gotta go real bad.” Tension pushed a sharp tone into his voice.
The door was partially open, giving them easy access. Before he could talk himself out of it, Willie reached out and pulled on the door; they shot inside, going all the way to the back. Crouching down, they looked around, surprised to see all the seats had been removed and replaced with homemade shelves with bars across the bottom to keep some jars from falling off and crashing to the floor.
“Wonder what’s in those?” He flicked a hand at the many jars. “They look like what grandma puts her jelly in.”
Butch crawled over to the shelves. All the jars had labels with strange writing scrawled across the front. He reached out, pulling one into his hand to twist off the cap. A horrible stench filled the air, and he quickly replaced the cap.
“Damn it, Butch, stop farting; now it smells like something died in here.” He covered his mouth trying not to be sick.
“I didn’t fart! I opened one of the jars.” He wanted to take a deep breath, but was afraid if he did he would throw up. “What the hell’s in there? It really does smell like something dead.” He put the jar back on the shelf and grabbed another one.
“Well don’t open another one. I almost puked from the last one!”
“I ain’t planning on opening it here, dumb shit. I’m gonna check it out later.” He looked around. “Anyway, since there ain’t anything in here to wipe with, let’s go back to the house. I really gotta go now and almost puking just now, didn’t help any.”
Staying low they made their way out of the bus. As soon as their feet hit the ground, they took off running.
When they reached the house, they could see all the men standing around the big fire pit in the middle of the backyard. They walked over as though they had been there the whole time.
“You two `bout ready to eat?” Dave, Willie’s dad, asked, taking a big swig of his half-empty can of beer.
“Yeah, I guess,” Willie answered, catching the jar Butch tossed to him.
“I’ll be back,” Butch called back over his shoulder as he took off running to the house.
“What you got there, Willie?” J.R. Downey
asked, coming forward.
“Ah, just something we found out in the weeds.” He wanted to shove it in his pocket but knew the jar would never fit.
“Let me see.” J.R. reached for the jar.
“Naw, it’s nothing.” Willie turned away.
“Willie, if you’re headed to the house, take that case of beer and fill up this cooler,” Dave told him, pushing the cooler forward with his foot.
“Yeah, I can do that.” He moved away before J.R. could reach for the jar again.
“Tell Donnie to get off his ass and give you a hand,” J.R. told him, spitting a stream of chewing tobacco off to the side.
Willie dismissed his suggestion with a flick of his hand, knowing Donnie would ignore him.
Setting the jar on top of the fridge, Willie went to work filling up the cooler.
He had it half full when Butch came outside. “Here, let me help you.” Butch started grabbing cans two at a time.
“We need to put that jar someplace until we can check it out. J.R. just tried to get me to let him see it.”
“Where is it?” Butch stopped what he was doing to look around.
Willie reached a hand up to the top of the fridge.
“Bring it over underneath the light so we can look at it.”
When Willie held up the jar, they tried to see what was inside. “It just looks like a gray blob. It don’t make no sense why would someone fill up a bunch of jars with something that smells like…holy shit…you know what that smell was?”
“No, what?” Willie went back to filling the cooler.
“Formaldehyde! You know the shit we put the dissected frogs in at school!”
“I never smelled anything like that.”
“Me neither.” Butch set the jar down beside the fridge to grab some more cans. “Probably because the formaldehyde we use at school is new. Who knows how long those jars have been sitting around in that old bus?”
“You know what we could do? We could take this to Mr. Simmons and ask him. He should be able to tell. He’s a biology teacher.” Willie thought about the man they were discussing and grinned. He didn’t look like a teacher with his full head of dark brown hair, worn long instead of cut short and neat like the other teachers. His full beard clipped close. Even the way he showed up each day dressed in a pair of jeans and a sports shirt instead of a suit and tie like the rest of the faculty, made the boys wish all their teachers were like him and the girls wish they were ten-years older.
“Yeah, we can do that. I just hope he don’t figure out it’s somethin’ that’s gonna get us in trouble for stealin’ it.”
“We’re not gonna tell him where we got it. We’ll just say we found it out in some weeds.”
“I don’t know `bout you,” he picked up the jar, set it inside the cooler, “but I’m really lookin’ forward to tomorrow.”
“Me too.” They each picked up one end of the cooler to carry it across the yard, only stopping long enough to retrieve the jar.
Chapter Two
Fear played no favorites as it skittered from the darkness and gathered into a mist as voices of young children playing cut through the silence.
“Ring around the rosy, a pocket full of posies, ashes ashes, we all fall down.” Giggles lifted into the night air.
They had gathered in the hay field, their heads bobbing as they danced around in a circle singing the silly rhyme. Willie moved toward them, trying to get a better view, and then stepped back in horror. They were all deformed: dragging legs only half developed and lacing arms that ended in a misshapen stump. As he stood still, staring, they disappeared back into the mist.
He sat up, his young body bathed in a cold sweat. Swinging his legs off the bed, he got to his feet to make his way to the bathroom. Not bothering to turn on a light, he relied on the nightlight to aid him as he turned on the faucet and doused his face with cold water, trying to chase away the eerie feelings brought on by the strange dream. After drying his face, he emptied his bladder and made his way back to his room. Instead of getting back in bed, he dropped to the floor to begin doing the ritual pushups that helped to tire him enough to let him get back to sleep after having one of his dreams. Finally, he was able to stretch his body out straight on the bed and at last feel himself nodding off.
***
The ringing of the alarm pulled him from his slumber. With a snarl, he slapped a hand over the button to silence the monotonous beeping.
A light tap sounded as his door opened and his mom stuck her head into the room. “Come on, Willie, time to get up. Your breakfast is already on the table.”
“Coming, Mom.” He rolled onto his back, rubbing a hand over his tired eyes.
Willie had never been a morning person. If it happened before 10 o’clock, he was content to miss it.
He opened his eyes and the first thing to catch his attention was the jar sitting on his dresser across the room.
Oh well, at least we might find out what we swiped. Maybe it’ll be part of an alien, or something weird like that.
Just before he was ready to head out the door to catch the bus, he put the container in his backpack.
All throughout the day, the main thought on his mind was what he had stashed and how he could approach Simmons about its contents. He hoped none of his teachers noticed his inability to stay on task through all of his classes. He didn’t need one of them calling to talk to his parents.
When the bell finally rang, ending the hour-long biology class, he got to his feet and moved slowly up the aisle. He had to wait for the other kids to move on to their next class before addressing Simmons.
Simmons looked up from where he sat behind his big oak desk, a stack of test papers in front of him. “What is it, Willie?”
“Mr. Simmons, could I talk to you for a moment?”
“Won’t you be late for your next class?” He picked up the stack of papers and tapped them against his desk to straighten them.
“I’m hoping you’ll write me a pass.”
“What’s that?” He motioned to what Willie held in his hand.
“This is what I want to talk to you about.” He set the container down on the desk.
The teacher picked up the jar so he could peer through the glass. “What is it?”
“I don’t know. Me and Butch found it out in some weeds in one of the vacant lots downtown. It looks like something that’s been dissected though. That’s why I brought it to you.”
They both turned as Butch ran into the room. “Would have been here sooner, but old lady Marshall wanted to make sure we’re all aware she has a class full of misfits.”
Simmons laughed, pushing back his chair. “Let’s check out what you have here.” He unscrewed the lid then slammed the cap back on the jar, as the foul smelling odor filled the air. “What the hell!” He swallowed against the bile fighting its way up his throat and moved quickly to the back of the room. Willie and Butch followed him closely.
With a flick of his hand, he uncapped the jar and turned it upside down.
As the contents hit the sink, Simmons turned on the faucet. With a pair of tongs, he picked up the misshapen object to hold it beneath the spray of water.
“Looks like a half-formed rat.” Willie talked through the hand he had cupped over his nose and mouth.
“No,” he said, turning his head to get a closer look at the object, “it’s not a rat.” Simmons put it down to pick up one of the glass containers beside the sink. He dropped the misshapen blob inside and labeled the jar. “Willie, do you mind if I hold onto this?”
Willie glanced over at Butch who shrugged his shoulders. “No I don’t care. We don’t want it. We were just curious what it was.”
Butch jammed his hands in his pockets, teetered back on the heels of his sneakers. “So, what do you think it is, Mr. Simmons?”
“I’m really not sure what it is at this point; that’s why I’d like to hold onto it. You know, run some tests.”
“Fine with me. When you figure out what
it is could you let us know?”
“Of course I will.” Simmons placed a hand on each boy’s shoulder to steer them in the direction of his desk. “Guess I better write you both some passes so you can get going. Don’t want you spending your day in detention.”
They stuffed the notes into the pockets of their jeans on their way out the door. They were already outside in the hall when Willie noticed he had forgotten his backpack.
“Hold on, I gotta go back. Wait for me?”
“Okay, but hurry up we need to get to class. Borden’s probably already marked us absent.”
“Who cares? We have a pass, remember?” He pulled open the door and started to go back inside when he heard Simmons talking on the classroom phone. Deciding to wait until the conversation was over, they stood there listening. Simmons was telling the person on the other line about a couple of his students who brought him a deformed fetus.
“Mr. Simmons, I need to get my backpack,” Willie said, timidly stepping into the room.
Simmons placed a hand over the receiver motioning Willie inside.
Willie grabbed the backpack and, with a wave of his hand, headed back out the door.
“Now we really gotta go take a look around that house. This is freaky as hell,” Butch said.
“Yeah. Why would someone fill up a bunch of shelves with deformed babies?”
“Don’t make no sense. Unless…” Butch’s voice trailed off as he tried to remember what it was he had heard.
“Unless what?”
“I heard one time, I can’t remember who it was talking, about this girl who didn’t want to be pregnant so she went and had an operation.”
“You talking about an abortion?”
“Yeah that’s what they called it—an abortion.”
“Maybe she knew her baby was all deformed, and she didn’t want it.”
“How the hell could she know it was deformed? A doctor can’t see inside her stomach.”
“I don’t know. But I do know I ain’t in the mood to listen to Borden runnin’ off at the mouth. I want to go check out that house.”
The Hay Fort Page 1