by Hunter Shea
An hour into their conversation, Judas and Teddy were starting to get antsy. Muriel paused in the middle of a story about a terrible blizzard in the early eighties and said to them, “Why don’t you two run into town and get me some milk, bread and a couple of cans of beef stew? The money’s in the jar along with my car keys. You both look like you need something to do.”
Teddy jumped up at the request. “Will you need anything else, Mamaw?”
“Just the two of you to scram.” She leaned in to John and whispered, “That grandson of mine can be handier than a pocket on a shirt, but there are other times I’d like to give him a good swift kick. Seeing his generation moping around the town tells me Shida has officially stepped in line with the rest of the United States.”
John didn’t want to insult the woman’s flesh and blood, even though she was the one to bring the subject up, so he just smiled.
“We’ll be back in a few,” Judas said as they walked out the door.
Muriel rose from the couch and announced, “I’ll be right back.” She disappeared down the hallway and he heard a door click shut.
John wanted to get up and explore the living room. He knew any attempt to extricate himself from the plastic-covered couch would alert Muriel that he was up and about. He was still, after all, a stranger in her house, so he opted to remain seated and stare out the window. The shadow of a fast moving cloud sprinted across the grass and trees outside.
There was the muffled sound of a toilet flushing and Muriel returned to sit on the couch next to him instead of her easy chair. Something about her demeanor now put him on edge. She was obviously skilled at switching gears with ease and he didn’t know what to expect. Before she said a word, she leaned forward, took the tape recorder and switched it off. She settled back into the couch, the plastic protesting while trapped air whistled out of a small hole at the cushion’s edge.
She then said in a perfectly conversational tone, “Now that we’re off the record, so to speak, why don’t you tell me why you’re really here.”
The question was unexpected and any delay in providing an answer would prove him to be a liar and he knew it. In less than a second, he had to decide whether to assert his original cover story, concoct a new one or tell the truth. He could also choose to remain silent and let her come to her own conclusions.
“Don’t go giving yourself a short circuit,” she said. “I guess the point is, I know you’re not here to write a book and you know you’re not here to write a book. We’re finally on the same page.”
She smiled but there was no joy in her deep, dark eyes.
John desperately wanted to say something to get himself off the ropes but nothing came. Fast thinking and smooth talking was a standard in movie dialogue. In real life, confusion and silence was the rule, not the exception.
“It really doesn’t matter why you’re here. My concern is that you and your family are here at all and now you’re starting to ask some questions. Your association with Judas doesn’t help matters much. That alone is enough to make people talk and wonder. And there are other issues.”
John finally found his voice. “Would the color of my skin have something to do with that?”
“It certainly does.”
Her bluntness stunned him. It seemed no matter what he did, he could not get off the defensive.
“This is a dangerous place, John. You may think I’m some backwards old woman from nowhere with an axe to grind just because you’re a white man, and you may be partially right.” She reached over and grabbed his hand, applying just enough pressure to get his attention. “But partial doesn’t mean everything and in this case it’s only a very small part. You shouldn’t be here. Your family isn’t safe, just like the others.”
John was aghast at the woman’s audacity, but he held his emotions in check because she was talking, and the more he allowed her to talk, the more he would know. He pressed on.
“You mean the people who lived in the house before me?”
She removed her hand from his and waved it in dismissal.
“You don’t know a goddamn thing you’re talking about. That house was not meant for you. This town is not meant for you. The longer you stay, the worse it will be. You want a history of Shida and you run your tape recorder and take your notes but trust me, you do not want to know the truth. The dark comes earlier and the days are growing colder. You don’t want to be here when the cold comes, because the cold wakes certain things from their slumber up here.”
“What do you mean, certain things?”
“Like any town, Shida has its share of buried secrets. They don’t need people like you coming to stir them up.”
Muriel rose and went to the kitchen.
“Take your family and your questions and whatever it is you’re hoping to find and go. When the snow comes, no one can help you.”
“Why when the snow comes? What’s going to happen? If you think a city person can’t survive an Alaskan winter in a million dollar home, I’d like to prove you wrong. Getting the necessary provisions won’t be a problem.”
Muriel slowly shook her head. “There is nothing you can provide for, when the snow comes.”
She rose and went back down the hallway, leaving him alone in the plastic-wrapped living room.
Chapter Thirty
When John returned from Teddy’s grandmother’s house, he looked worried. Eve tried to intercept him before he went back downstairs to his study. He mumbled something in passing about calling Jack and that he probably wouldn’t be up for dinner.
This place is getting to him, she thought. The once warm atmosphere of the house was rapidly changing, growing colder. She found herself walking into empty rooms and mysteriously feeling like she was intruding. She never felt truly alone, even when she was the only one in the house. Just an hour ago the toilet flushed itself when she walked into the bathroom. She’d been around enough bad plumbing not to sound the alarms, but the room itself was ice cold, even though the window was closed tight.
She pushed her thoughts away, less than anxious to let them run any wilder.
“What would you like for dinner?” she asked Jessica.
She supplied her standard answer, “Mac and cheese and broccoli.”
Eve rolled her eyes. “Would you settle for chicken cutlets, French fries and broccoli?”
“Only if they’re cut up into nuggets.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it any other way.”
She switched on the small portable radio they kept in the kitchen and tuned to a station playing a mix of hits from the sixties and seventies. When her favorite Marvin Gaye song came on, she swayed her hips to the groove as she fried the chicken in a cast iron skillet on the stovetop.
As she was turning the chicken over to brown and dancing in place, she felt a pair of hands slip onto her hips.
“I thought you’d come up when you smelled the chicken.”
She had made about two dozen breaded nuggets and was turning them over clumsily with a salad fork. John moved closer and pressed against her back, keeping in rhythm with her hips. Still working the chicken, she was surprised to feel a quick thrill trigger through her body at his touch.
It had been a long time since she’d been this close to a man, even longer since someone other than Jessica or Liam had danced with her. She’d be lying if she said she never thought about her and John as a couple but it was always clouded over by his problems and her need to keep him and his daughter whole. Maybe now that those problems were receding into the past, new opportunities were ready to present themselves.
She told herself to shut up and just enjoy the moment.
Dancing with her eyes closed, she said, “I didn’t know you liked Marvin.”
“Mmm-hmm,” was whispered in her ear, deep and sure.
Something didn’t seem right with the voice, so she instinctively turned.
There was no one behind her.
The door to the basement was still shut and the children sat enra
ptured on the living room floor.
Her back retained the heat of the presence behind her and she could still feel the hands on her hips.
The room around her grew bright, then dimmed to a dull fog as her heartbeat pounded like a relentless surf in her ears. She stumbled to the nearest chair, her vision fading quickly, came up short and collapsed on the floor.
Muraco sat on the weather-eroded curb sipping on a bottle of soda. It was that moment before the sun tucked itself away for bed and the sky was a brilliant purple with streaks of azure and a tint of orange on the horizon line. A damp chill descended with the oncoming night and he contemplated zipping up his jacket, thought better of it, and downed the rest of the soda. He threw the empty plastic bottle towards a sewer drain. It fell short, rolling instead to rest against the opposite curb.
He’d been waiting for Judas for nearly an hour now. Sooner or later, his clunker of a truck would pass by. It always did. He would either come to the market for some beer, the diner for food, or he’d have to drive through to get to Teddy’s place.
Muraco rose to stretch his legs and grab a cigarette from his car when Judas pulled up to the diner. He jogged across the street and bounced against the side of the truck as Judas opened his door.
“Hey Stitch, you got a minute?” he asked.
Judas looked stunned. He held the door open, unsure whether to continue on his way or jump back into the truck.
“What for?”
“I think you know what for.” Muraco walked around the truck and let himself in the passenger door. “Let’s go for a ride.”
Judas looked at him for a moment, studying him like one would contemplate a dangerous animal in a faulty cage. Instead of returning to the driver’s seat, he shut his door and walked towards the diner. Muraco jumped out after him.
“Hey man, all I want to do is talk to you.”
Judas stopped. “After our history, I can’t imagine why that wasn’t the first thing that came to mind, man. Look, I’m starving. All I want is to have something to eat and go home in one piece.” He paused, then added, “And cut the Stitch shit. School’s been out a long time.”
Muraco slipped an arm around his shoulder and led him away from the diner. “Just hear me out. For once, I’m not gonna do anything to you.”
He felt the tension in Judas’s shoulders, so he removed his arm. “I want in. Whatever’s going on in that house with the white man, I want to help.”
“Yeah, right, you want to help,” Judas said dismissively.
“I’m serious, bro. I know what I saw up there and now I know what that Backman guy is all about. You’re in tight with him. You can’t tell me this isn’t the most interesting thing that’s ever happened in this town.”
“If you think it’s interesting, then you don’t know what’s really going on. If I was you, I’d steer clear of there.” He tried to turn back towards the diner but was stopped again.
“Maybe me and my boys could lend a hand. I got nothing else to do. And, I have other reasons.”
Judas gave him a skeptical glance. “Really? What other reasons?”
He moved in closer so no one passing by could hear, not that there was another soul in sight. “I don’t like the way it made me feel. I want another shot to face it on my terms. Whatever’s up there is real, man. Real as you and me. All I want is a second chance.”
A strong gust of wind came from nowhere and blew leaves around their feet like a whirlwind of little children playing ring-around-the-rosy.
They locked eyes for a moment. Judas slouched into himself as if someone had released an air valve. “I may live to regret this. I’ll take you to him tomorrow.”
Sheriff High Bear watched the two boys from his concealed cruiser parked diagonally from the diner. He intentionally slipped just around the corner of Phil’s Bar so he could keep an eye on Muraco. There was something about the way he just hung around the street, the way he held himself, that broadcast to the world he was up to no good.
So now here he was having a pleasant chat with the object of his derision for the past couple of decades.
Gary High Bear started to wonder, and when he started to wonder, bad things usually followed.
Chapter Thirty-One
Even though Eve’s fainting spell had happened days ago, Jessica still felt nervous around her. To see an adult reduced to a helpless heap on the floor was terrifying. She had screamed for her father the moment she heard Eve’s body hit the ground and thankfully he was upstairs in seconds flat. Eve came to almost immediately, though she had smacked her nose hard on the fall and a small trickle of blood seeped from one of her nostrils.
Jessica watched from a short distance, too panicked to speak or move. She felt helpless and scared, especially once she saw the blood. What bothered her most was the look in Eve’s eyes. She seemed to be watching for some unseen event to unfold while her father carried her to a chair, as if she knew something bad was just moments away from stepping into the room.
When Liam wobbled over and saw his mother he immediately began to wail, snapping Eve back into her role as mother and protector. She held him to her chest with one arm and an ice pack to her nose with the other. Jessica asked in a shaky voice if everything was okay, and was relieved when Eve mustered up a smile and motioned for her to join in a group hug.
She’d tried to listen in on her dad and Eve’s conversation later that night but they talked too low for her to hear. Despite her desire to peek into the world of adults, she found herself growing sleepy, waking up to her sunlit room.
The next day, her father vowed to take care of all of them and told Eve she had a choice of spending her day in bed or on the couch. She tried to resist but soon realized it was futile.
Jessica loved having her father as part of the daily routine and helped him make all three meals and give Liam a bath. After lunch, he took the two of them out for a walk and they kicked a soccer ball around until it was time for Liam’s nap. The leaves were already starting to fall, except for all the evergreens, and Jessica shivered in her light jacket. She didn’t let on that she was cold, for fear of having to cut their time outside short.
Two days later, as her father was making lunch, he got a call from Judas and she heard him agree to meet him the next day, which made her sad because it meant their “super together time”, as she called it, was coming to an end.
They sat together in the afternoon to watch a kids’ movie, though her father and Eve spent more time reading their books than watching the movie. When the movie ended, there were still a couple of hours to kill until dinner and the sun was shining strong outside.
“Can I go out for a little while?” she asked.
“I don’t see why not,” her father said, engrossed in his book. “Just stay in the yard. No going into the woods.”
“I’d never go in the woods alone, Daddy. I just want to play with my Barbie dolls outside.”
“Make sure you remember to bring them back in. It’s supposed to rain tonight. You don’t want them to get ruined.”
“Okay.”
Jessica sprinted up the stairs, grabbed her Barbie backpack that was loaded with dolls, clothes and every accessory known to women, both real and plastic, slipped into her winter coat and continued her mad dash into the back yard, hopping down the patio stairs two at a time. A trio of large stones, one almost as tall as her, sat amidst the dying grass and leaves. It was her favorite place to play with her dolls because she could pretend they were rock climbing or living in a cave or stranded on an island.
The chilly breeze made her grateful she remembered to wear her winter coat. She pulled a couple of Barbies out of the backpack, one with blonde hair, the other a brunette, stripped them down and dressed them up for the cold weather as well. Today they were about to embark on a journey up a snowy mountain in search of the elusive yeti. It would have made her father proud to see her so easily blend the interests of her youth with the eccentric passion of her dad.
Her Barbies we
re in search of a sherpa at the base of the mountain (though she pronounced it chirpa) when she heard the heavy crunch of leaves coming from past the rocks, back by the tree line where the preponderance of evergreens shadowed the recesses in early night. She froze, fearing some large animal with rabies was approaching the house. She knew from Eve that most of the animals that lived in the forest around them were nocturnal, and if they were to come across one during the daytime, it was more than likely diseased or dying and she was not to go anywhere near it.
She transferred both dolls to one hand and the open backpack to the other in case she had to make a run for the house. The snap of dry leaves and twigs moved closer. A vague shadow appeared between the massive tree trunks, edging closer until she could clearly see that this was no animal.
A man was coming her way.
Sunlight touched the top of his head as he emerged from the forest and spilled down his entire body. He was dark skinned with salt and pepper hair cut close, dressed in a brown wool coat, khaki pants and hiking boots. He smiled when he saw her and there was something about the pure delight in his face that put her instantly at ease.
“Hello neighbor,” he called, waving his arm.
Slightly winded, he paused at the largest of the rock trio and leaned back against it. “I don’t go hiking as much as I should and when I do, I get tired easily.”
Jessica said nothing. He closed his eyes and nodded.
“Looks like your parents taught you right. Never talk to strangers, especially men who come walking out of the bushes in the middle of nowhere. My name is George, I live nearby, or what passes for nearby up here.”
A dark cloud, pregnant with rain and the size of a battleship, passed overhead, blocking out the sun. For just a brief moment, the color and definition of the man who called himself George washed away, revealing an incongruous blob with soft edges barely retaining the shape of a full grown person. The next instant, he was back to George with the smiling face and brown wool jacket, reappearing like a stolen image between the flickering bursts of a strobe light.