George Meninuck was a proud member of the Yakima Nation and he would often drift off into stories about his Native heritage and the legends that some elders would pass down to the younger members of the tribe. Clarence enjoyed hearing George go off on these random tangents but whenever the two of them had tossed a few back Clarence wouldn't hesitate to poke fun at him when he could tell that George was starting to trail off and make shit up as he went along. For whatever reason this particular day, the subject of conversation had been that very same bald patch of land up top that ridge.
"You know, Clare, my grandfather used to tell stories about that ridge right up there." He said to Clarence as he made a sweeping gesture up toward the area.
"Did he always tell stories when he was lit, like you do?" Clarence joked back.
"Fuck no, man! My Gramps was old school. He called booze 'The stinking piss of the white man's devil dick', or something like that, he was fucking weird." George chuckled, "Anyway, I guess his grandfather told him some stories about how it was just all cursed or something. Like the ground was corrupt, or gone bad, and if anyone went up there they said it would corrupt that person or even turn them into some sort of evil fucking demon or something."
"So," Clarence replied, "You're telling me that your great, great granddad told your granddad that the stupid ridge up on the hill of the valley of the land I've worked pretty much my whole life is supposed to be haunted? George, I may be drunk but I do know when my chain has been yanked, partner."
George laughed and said, "No bullshit, that's what they used to say. Way back before this place was built here, before there were even white people here. He said this spot right here, or around here I think, anyway, he told me about it when he heard the Henderson's bought the land all those years back. He said as far back as our people go, they were always told as children to avoid the whole damn area, like it was fucking contaminated or something."
"What, you mean like a plague?" Clarence asked as he cracked open another beer.
"You know, Clare, you probably hit the nail on the head there. I'd bet it was probably some disease that broke out hundreds of years back, yeah? They most likely used to have a camp or something around this area and had some sort of outbreak so they might have thought it was cursed and just avoided it. Then, you know, story gets passed down generations and eventually no one really knows how it got started."
"Well, shit," Clarence said, “I hope nobody finds out because that could seriously fuck with the property value!"
"Man, I tell you though, he was serious about that old legend. He said it went back thousands of years, all the way back to before our people were even here." George paused to chug the rest of his beer then reached for another as he continued. "Apparently some of them believed that before we settled around here there was some other tribe or civilization or something hundreds of years before."
"You mean like, pre-Indian Indians?" Clarence asked.
"I guess that's one way to put it," George replied, "But yeah, so they had some sort of angry god they would have to sacrifice animals and people to, so it wouldn't destroy them."
"That's just not right, I mean I get sacrificing people, like if the 'ol lady won't stop yapping at the jaw sometimes you just have to sacrifice her for the better good, but man, I like animals!"
"I heard that!" Jenny yelled out at them from inside, they both broke into a raucous laughter.
"So yeah," George continued, "My grandpa told me that the story goes, this old civilization, or whatever, had this shaman lady who knew some type of Earth magic that she used to like, trap it in the ground up there."
"I always prefer Earth magic," Clarence joked, "Space magic just never really gets the job done."
"Damn it, Clare, stop fucking up my story!" George laughed again then said, "So basically, this evil spirit, creature, god thing is bound to that one spot and that's why nothing grows there. It's like this thing is so bad everything just died up there, or would die if it went there. They said even the animals knew to not walk up there and the trees and grass just fucking stopped growing and shit. They say that if a person were to step foot in the circle where nothing grows, then that person would be corrupted by the evil and would turn against everyone, even their own family and drag them up there to sacrifice them so the thing would reawaken and kill the world or some crazy-ass shit."
"Holy shit." Clarence muttered.
"I know, right?! My grandpa was seriously scared though, he made me promise to never go up there, not that I would ever have a reason to, but you know how old farts get when they hit that age." George paused to take another drink then said, "So the story he told me says this shaman lady cast a spell and this evil spirit, or whatever it is, is trapped there. So we're all safe and it's a happy ending."
"Cheers to that," Clarence said as he raised his bottled and George met it with his, making a soft clink sound, "So how long is it stuck in there?"
"Forever, I think. Or at least, you know, like a really long time or something."
"Only one problem with the whole story, George."
"What's that?"
"Well, if these pre-Indian Indians lived here before your ancestors and then just left; then how in hell did your tribe ever hear the story? Did they leave a note?"
Both men laughed so hard they almost fell out of their chairs. When George caught his breath he said, "Okay, okay, maybe I added a few things here and there to make it interesting. That being said, the really old folks from the tribe were scared of that place. They said nothing would grow up there because evil spirits had ruined the soil and they did warn the little ones not go up there if they ever ventured out to these parts. Of course, now that it's on private acreage nobody really bothers with the stories. Shit, now that my grandpa’s dead I might actually be the only person alive who even remembers the story, and I guess now I’m one of two people who know."
Then, just like that, Clarence was jerked from that long ago memory and brought right back into the present morning. He found himself gazing out at that strange, bare patch for a few more minutes before he realized he was about to slip into one of his odd trance-like states, and there was no time for that, too much hard work to get done before the sun reached its high point and made the heat unbearable.
"Back to work," he told himself as he averted his eyes from the ridge and looked out at the tall grass that he needed to get started on with the mower.
Then just as he was about to step off the porch again he found himself taking one more glance up at the ridge. It was almost like reflex action, the way that his head seemed to jerk back in that direction for one last look. It was as if he didn't even control his own neck, and now here he was once again, just gazing out over the hills. And there he stayed until suddenly he realized that he was back in his chair on the porch and the entire day had already come and gone.
This morning he had woken up with the feeling that his whole life had made a distinct turn around and he was finally ready to start enjoying it all again for the first time really since Jenny left this world. That same warm evening in late August Clarence found himself in the same spot, right in the same damn chair, just staring. When he realized that the sun was already making its decent, his heart sank.
As soon the reality of the situation struck him, he felt dread wash over him until it made a knot in the pit of his stomach. All the joy and pleasant optimism that he had been feeling ever since leaving Dr. Caldwell's office was completely washed away in a new flood of despair. His heart ached at the loss of his new found, and short lived, state of mind. He felt absolutely broken.
"No, no, no,” he repeated as tears began streaming down his cheek, these were not tears of joy this time, "NO! GOD...FUCKING...DAMN IT!" Clarence began to weep. Everything he had planned was ruined. He swore was going to get as much life out of the day as possible, and he was going to spend the morning catching up on all the much needed work around the place and he was going to enjoy doing it. He was even going to go out and play card
s with the other old folks at the community center, perhaps even make a few new friends in his old age.
But now all he could do was hang his head and shuffle his way back inside.
He went into the living room and looked longingly down at the picture of Jenny that sat beneath her old crucifix. He picked it up and watched as tears dripped from his chin onto the glass frame of the picture before running off onto his leathery, wrinkled hands.
"Oh, Jenny," he sobbed, "My sweet darling. I miss you so damn much, Baby, I just don't know how to live without you. I tried, I truly did. But I guess I'm just a broken down old man with nothing left. I need you now, Jenny. Oh, I need my girl."
He set the picture back down with shaky hands and readied himself for bed.
He was suddenly so tired that he was barely able to cross the room and lay down before passing out right there, in his work overalls, boots, and all.
~
Clarence awoke sometime in the middle of the night like some sort of shrieking alarm had gone off in his head. He was torn from sleep so suddenly that for a moment he had no idea where he was, for a split second he could have sworn he was lying in a patch of foul smelling dirt, not so much a manure type smell but more of a decaying odor, the smell of death.
As the world came slowly into focus, he moaned as he slowly sat up in his bed. He looked again at the crucifix above Jenny's picture through the doorway that separated his bedroom from the small living room where it hung on the wall. Jenny was always so deeply religious, and while Clarence never really was himself, the crucifix held other meaning for him. It was a reminder of his lovely wife, his one true partner in life who so taken from him four years ago. He was still staring at the cross with grieving eyes when he heard Jenny's voice.
"Clarence, please, I'm out here."
It had come from out on the front porch. Clarence stood frozen, not so much in fear but in utter confusion. "Must still be half asleep." He mutter under his breath.
"Clarence, my sweet Clarence." Her voice was clear as day.
"Oh my," he said to himself, his voice cracking, "You've gone done and lost it, old man. Dr. Rick was wrong, you've gone bat shit and now you're hearing Jenny’s voice."
He decided that the best thing to do was to rush out to the front porch right away to prove to himself that his dead wife was not out there calling to him. Then he would at least know that his mind had finally broken and that it was time for him to check into the god damn loony bin. He stormed over to the front door and yanked it open furiously.
Jenny was standing on the front porch.
Clarence thought he was going to die of a heart attack right there on the spot, but instead, he just stood there looking into the eyes of his wife's ghost. She looked much younger and healthier than he remembered, as if she was granted the gift of coming back to life in the form of the last time she was healthy and full of life, before disease had rattled her frail body.
"What's going on?" He asked more to himself than to her.
She just looked at him and smiled, then held out one slender arm. He took her hand, it was warm and full of life, not the hand of a ghost or a walking corpse. Although her voice seemed strangely distant, not in volume, but as if it was being projected through her from some far away source.
"Sweet, kind Clarence," she said to him, "Please, don't be in pain anymore, Darling. Come with me, my love."
All at once it occurred to Clarence that he was most certainly dreaming, and that he had never actually been jarred awake on his bed. This was obviously just a very lucid dream brought on by the stress of his latest episode on the porch. Yes, he was dreaming, he had to be, and he was going to go with it.
He rarely dreamt where he realized that he was dreaming, this all just felt so damn real to him, and there she was, as beautiful and as full of life as ever. A warm smile crossed his face as he stepped off the porch and walked towards her.
"Our Lord and Savior has welcomed me into the kingdom of Heaven," she said as she beckoned him, "Come with me, my sweet Clarence, I have something so very wonderful to show you up on the ridge past the pines."
CHAPTER TWO
It was a beautiful late summer day when Charlotte arrived at the old family ranch to help Clarence get the place prepared for the coming Labor Day weekend festivities. The whole gang was coming out for their yearly get together and she wanted to give Clarence any help he needed to make sure they all had a warm welcome. Of course he would never let on that he needed any help, but she knew that he wasn't as young as he used to be, not that she was a spring chicken, herself. That being said, she was more than eager to get there before all the grandchildren arrived the next day and turned the whole place into the circus she was sure it would be. Even though this particular circus filled her heart with love and joy, she was still very happy to have at least one day of peace and quiet before the ruckus started.
As she pulled her Range Rover SUV up to the gate of the Bear Creek Ranch, with its tall, wooden crest displaying an old carving of an eagle with its wings spread over the carved landscape of two hills with a stream flowing between them, she noticed that the old busybody had already done most of the preparing. She noticed as she pulled past the gate into the driveway of the ranch house that the lawn had already been mowed and manicured and shrubs and rose bushes were trimmed quite neatly to perfection. Instantly the thought of her old friend working with such love on their old family home, how he had always done and would most certainly keep doing until his age finally caught up with him, filled her warmness and made her smile so brightly she thought she was going to tear up.
"Good ol' Uncle C." she said to herself, "Always up and at 'em."
Even though she'd had one hell of a long, stressful drive all the way down from Bellingham, she immediately decided that before she went in and finally settled into that nice warm Jacuzzi bath up there in the upstairs master bathroom she'd been dreaming of for all those miles, she had to go down to pay her respects to the old ranch hand.
The main ranch house stood towering above the valley on the east end of the property. It was three stories tall and had an old Victorian look about it. Along the west side of the house was large back yard that stretched all the way around to the back end of the house and out for about one hundred yards before it turned into a grass meadow that flowed into the old apple orchard. Just past this orchard was a small path that winded its way down a hillside and into the valley of the ranch. This valley used to have quite a few cows and many horses over the years. But now with only one old man to tend the animals year round just a few goats and the occasional herd of deer called it home.
Charlotte stood on the edge of this path and just let herself take it all in.
"Such a gorgeous view," she proclaimed, "why do I ever leave here?"
She was right about the view, it looked like the kind of landscape you would see on a calendar or even on a painted mural hung on a wall in some fancy cigar room. She gazed out at the winding path which made its way down the hillside and into the valley, past the grassy field and right down into the picturesque little corner of the ranch where Clarence had always lived in his modest little cottage. Charlotte was so uplifted by the whole scene and so eager to catch up with her sweet, old Uncle C. that should found herself almost skipping like a little girl on her way down the path toward Clarence's house.
In all the years she could remember, Clarence had always seemed to know when she was approaching his house and, like clockwork, he would always be stepping out to greet her as she arrived. She would joke around with him about how he must have some sort of sixth sense or something, but in reality she knew that the poor old guy did his chores early in the morning and didn't have much else to do but sit around his old house watching the day go by from the window in the kitchen, unless he was already out on the front porch itself.
However, no such friendly greeting awaited Charlotte today. In fact, he was nowhere in sight as she walked up onto the front porch and gently knocked on the front door.
No answer. Must be on the john, she thought.
She knocked again, and again received nothing in response so she quietly opened the door and poked her head inside.
"Uncle C?" she called into the house, "Whatcha doin' ol timer? You fall into the crapper or something?" Her cheap joke was met with only silence. She figured that he must have gone out to finish up some work around the property, although it seemed awful late in the day for him to be out there doing any sort of physical labor.
She decided to just go ahead and walk inside, this was her common practice whenever Uncle C. wasn't around when she stopped by. She would just grab a pen and paper from the drawer by the fridge and leave him a little note like she always did.
As soon as she stepped in she saw Clarence sitting right there, wide awake, just staring up at the crucifix her Aunt Jenny had left up there hanging on the wall long before she had passed away, and there it had hung since her passing giving her sweet old Uncle Clarence a sense of her presence every night he laid down alone in his cold bed.
For nearly a minute Charlotte just stood there, watching Clarence gaze, completely transfixed, upon the crucifix on the wall. Oh no! She thought, poor old Uncle C. finally gave into the loneliness out here. I tried to get him out and around after Aunt Jenny died but he just plain refused. At his age...Her thought trailed off there with the realization that he was only about twenty or so years older than her and that in in a relatively short time this could be her staring at the walls, lost and confused.
Finally she spoke, "Uncle C.? You okay there," She tried to mask the pity in her voice but knew that she was doing a piss poor job of it. Clarence, however, did not seem to notice, he gave no response nor did he show any sign of acknowledgment of her presence.
Becoming the Gateway Page 3