by David Greske
"I'm fine, Dorothy. Is Larry in?"
"He's in back,” Dorothy said. “And help yourself to a sticky bun on the way in."
"Thanks,” Jarvis said as he passed the receptionist, “but not today."
"Okay honey. Maybe next time.” Dorothy went back to her reading, but couldn't concentrate on the words. Her thoughts were still with Jarvis. For as long as she could remember, she'd never known him to pass up a sweet roll. He did look a little pale. Maybe he was coming down with something.
Jarvis wondered if she suspected his urgency. That was the first time he ever turned down a sweet roll. Hopefully she thought he was coming down with something.
Jarvis knocked on the door marked private and waited for a response.
"Yeah, come on in,” Larry's baritone voice said from the other side.
Jarvis tripped the latch and stepped inside.
The realtor's office was small, but immaculate. A walnut bookcase dominated one wall, while a couple of Norman Rockwell prints hung from the other.
Oh, Norman. If only life was as simple as you made it to be.
Under the framed Rockwells was a row of brown filing cabinets, each labeled with Larry's precise block lettering. The window behind the desk offered an unobstructed view of Town Square Park, Prairie Rest's newest development.
"Jarvis, have a seat.” Larry offered one of the two chairs in front of the desk. A wide smile displayed his perfect teeth. He seemed happy to see Jarvis, but Larry always seemed happy to see anyone.
Jarvis sat down. “You sold the Miller place, didn't you?"
Larry's warm facade melted. “Yes, I did. What of it? I'd been a fool if I hadn't. Some stranger blows into town, asks about it, and is ready to settle the deal right then and there. I thought it was a terrific opportunity to unload it."
"But it wasn't supposed to be sold. Ever. That was the deal."
"That deal, Jarvis,” Larry said, scooting his chair closer to his desk and leaning into Jarvis's face, “was between you and my grandfather. When Otto died, he left the business to me. The whole business and that includes the right to buy and sell whatever I damn-well please."
"Are you forgetting how your grandfather died?” Jarvis spat.
Larry pushed himself away from the desk and walked to the filing cabinet. There he poured himself a cup of coffee. He did not offer any to Jarvis.
"Oh, please, Jarvis, don't start on that hocus pocus crap.” Larry spooned some sugar into his cup and returned to his desk. “Otto died when a tree fell on him."
"Christ, Larry, I was there, remember? It wasn't like that. There's a lot more to it."
"Oh, I admit, it was pretty freaky. But those are the kinds of things that happen when you run around in the woods during a storm. You were all a bunch of damned fools."
"But what if all that bad stuff starts happening again? What then?"
Larry rolled his eyes. “I said no hocus pocus shit. Honestly, Jarvis, you sound as if the devil lives right here in Prairie Rest."
There was a silence that was so thick and ripe between them they could almost feel it pressing down on them. Jarvis's eyes locked on Larry's.
"What if he does?” Jarvis rasped. “What if he does?"
* * * *
Jim strolled down Main Street enjoying the solitude a small town had to offer. He felt good. Part of this feeling he attributed to the drinks he had at the Stumble Inn. The other part—the most important part—was he finally felt at peace with himself. Despite what Diane thought, the move to this middle-of-nowhere burg was just what he needed. New surroundings provided new inspirations; new inspirations could provide a new book. And a new novel would put him back on track.
Main Street could easily be walked end to end in just under an hour. It was lined with buildings whose storefronts seemed frozen in time. There was no glaring neon, no flashing lights, just neatly lettered signs displayed from fancy wrought iron hangers outside each establishment. At night, these signs were illuminated by spotlights mounted on the sides of the buildings. In accordance with the Prairie Rest town ordinance, all the structures were either brick, or white stucco.
Every thirty feet or so, lampposts, like trees, sprung from the center of the street. Each reached fifty feet into the sky, then the top split into two arm-like structures. On the end of each arm was a mercury arc lamp encased in an iron lantern. When the lights were turned on, Main Street took on the look of a sepia-toned, antique photograph.
Jim stopped in front of the Hamburger Hut and wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. He looked down the street and saw heat shimmers rising from the pavement. It was going to be a hot day; there was no question about that. Through the shimmers, he saw a spider-like shadow crawl across the south tip of town.
The shadow was caused by the three turrets on the Miller/Anderson house. As the day wore on, the shadow grew longer and fingered across Main Street until everything was caught in its grasp.
Jim eyeballed the shadow to its source. For the first time, he noticed that his place sat on a small knoll and the house appeared to look down on the rest of the town. It was even more eerie because the placement of the windows looked like eyes. The turrets were horns. The porch was a mouth, and the driveway resembled a tongue.
A shiver crawled up his spine. Silhouetted against the clear blue sky, the house looked like the head of a demon. The way the light winked off the windows made it seem alive.
"Spooky,” Jim whispered and felt a chill creep up his back again. Then he turned and went into the Hamburger Hut to have lunch.
Chapter 3
Travis ran out the back door when his parents started to argue. He hated when they fought. It made him feel sad and sometimes guilty because he thought it was all his fault. Sometimes their fighting made him want to run away.
So, he had gone out to the backyard to roughhouse with Rufus, and that was when he saw the trail that led into the woods.
Travis knew he shouldn't wander off without telling his parents, but they were so busy yelling at each other, he doubted if they'd even know he was gone. Heck, when they started in on each other, he could go to the moon, and they'd never notice. So, with his dog by his side, Travis ventured into the woods.
And it was like he entered another world.
The twisted trees reminded him of the one in Poltergeist that tried to gobble up Carol-Anne's brother just before she was taken by the “television people.” He wasn't allowed to watch those kinds of movies, but once, he spent a night at his friend's house and they rented it and secretly watched it in his bedroom. That one scene gave Travis nightmares for a month. But he couldn't tell anyone about the dreams. He had to keep them secret. Just like he would have to keep this secret. And he was very good at keeping secrets.
As Travis walked deeper into the woods, it got darker and the shadows grew longer, crossing his path like the tentacles of an alien creature. The temperature had dropped as the sun's warmth was sucked up by the lush green canopies. Not a bird chirped, and the only sound was a muffled breeze as it soughed through the treetops.
Travis felt like Hansel without Gretel as he followed the meandering trail. Soon, he would stumble across the gingerbread house and the witch that wanted to eat him. He called Molly a witch today; maybe the gingerbread witch would be her!
Stop it! There's no such thing as witches, or monsters, or anything like that!
Then another, unfamiliar voice whispered in his ear. I wouldn't be too sure about that, kid.
"Who's there?” Travis spun around. His arms had broken out in goose bumps, and he wasn't sure if it was because of the change in temperature, or because he was scared.
He could no longer see his house. It was hidden by a dense stand of trees. Travis reached down and pulled Rufus close to him. He'd wandered too far away from the house and knew he should turn back before he got lost, but something compelled him to continue down the dusty path.
When he discovered the swimming hole, it was as sweet as his first taste
of chocolate, and all the fear and anxiety he felt melted away.
The water was as clear as crystal, and Travis could see the soft, sandy bottom. Diamonds of light danced on the pristine surface, and watching how they sparkled and winked made Travis woozy.
He stripped down to his underwear and jumped into the pond. Travis expected the water to be cool. Instead, it was as warm as Mom's oatmeal on a cold winter morning. The water rushed over him and stung his tender skin. It swirled around his thighs and tickled his groin. It whispered to him and made him hard.
Travis had had erections before, usually in the morning when he woke with a full bladder. However, this one was somehow different. It was stronger ... more powerful. It didn't feel like he had to pee. It felt nice. There was an odd tingling in his testicles like nothing he'd ever felt before. It blossomed up to his belly and spread around his stomach like an invisible belt. He closed his eyes, and in his mind saw himself drifting through the water. The strange tingling coursed through him until his entire body sang with the new sensation. The sand came up to meet him and pulled him down, drawing him into its womb.
And it was good.
Suddenly, Rufus barked and Travis snapped his eyes open. The world was all wavy and blurred. There was a weight on his chest. His arms and legs felt like lead. He couldn't breathe. Then he realized he had gone under the water.
Travis forced his arms and legs to move and pushed himself upward. His hands shot through the water's surface, and he clawed at the bank, pulling himself out of the pond. He collapsed to the ground and sucked in huge amounts of air. He hadn't realized the pond was that deep. It sure didn't look like it a few minutes ago. Before he jumped in, he was certain he'd be able to touch bottom.
After a minute, Travis scrambled to his feet, got dressed, and looked at the pond.
The water had turned black and scummy. The diamonds of light that had intrigued him looked like splats of an oil slick. There was a sickening stench of decay around the pond's perimeter.
Travis wrinkled his face into a mask of disgust. Gross! I went swimming in that! Yuck!
Rufus barked again.
Travis turned around. “Rufus? Where are you, boy?"
Another bark, then a growl.
Travis ran in the direction of the sound. “Rufus, I'm coming."
Travis found his dog about a hundred yards away, staring into the mouth of a cave. The dog's hackles were up, and his lips were drawn across his mouth, exposing sharp, alabaster teeth. Rufus barked a fourth time, growled, and took a step backward.
"It's okay, boy. It's me.” Travis approached the animal with caution. Although he doubted that Rufus would harm him, he remembered something his father once told him. Sometimes, when a dog gets agitated, he might attack anyone, even his master, without really intending to. “It's okay, boy."
Rufus looked at Travis and wagged his tail so hard his entire rear-end swayed along.
"Did you get yourself a rabbit? Is that what this is all about?"
Travis hunkered down next to Rufus and peered into the cave. He saw nothing but darkness, then a sudden flash of green.
Travis toppled backward. He scrambled to his feet, brushed off the seat of his pants, and grabbed Rufus by the scruff of his neck. His eyes had grown the size of dinner plates. The goose bumps had returned. Travis didn't like it here anymore.
"Let's go, Rufus,” he whispered in the dog's ear as he tugged on his neck. “Let's go home."
Travis turned and ran. Rufus gave one last bark and followed. Travis ran as fast as his little legs could move. He ran toward home.
Toward safety.
Chapter 4
All of Prairie Rest knew that Lily and Lila were business partners, but no one knew they were also partners of the heart. Or if anyone did suspect such a thing, they refused to accept it. People like that just didn't live in a town like this. The people of Prairie Rest had families and went to church on Sundays. They had Friday night potlucks at the community center and sewing bees down at the VFW. They made love in the dark. They were heterosexual. And Lily and Lila were sick of it.
The couple couldn't walk hand in hand down Main Street without feeling the looks of disgust bore through them. They dared not steal a kiss in the park for fear of threats from the town's hoodlums. So, they decided they really had no other option than to move to the city, where their lifestyle would perhaps be a little more tolerated. Of course, that meant they'd have to sell Sew What!, but so what. Once they were settled in their new home, they could always open up another boutique.
Larry Taft would get a fair price for the shop. That man could sell just about anything. Rumor had it he was even able to unload the old Miller place, and that property had been vacant for twenty years. He got a real good price for it, too, if the town gossip was right.
Lila rang open the cash register drawer and frowned. She didn't know why she even bothered to cash out. Since the Wal-Mart by the freeway opened about a year ago, business at Sew What! had been on a steady decline. The lack of money in the cash drawer was proof of that. At this rate, it'd be another three years before they could move, and if they had to file bankruptcy, they'd be stuck in this town forever. The thought sent a shiver up her spine.
Lily glanced at the clock above the door—twenty-five minutes after five. In five minutes, they'd close up shop.
"Do you think she'll show?” Lily was straightening bolts of fabrics on a shelf behind Lila.
"That old battle-ax, of course. It's Thursday afternoon, and we're nearly ready to close. She'll be here. That old biddy's as regular as a bowel movement."
"You!” Lily chuckled and slapped her companion on the rump just as the front door opened. Edna Hapcord walked into the shop.
"Told you,” Lila whispered. “Just like clockwork."
"Ladies.” Edna croaked and tossed her Gucci handbag on the glass counter.
"Edna.” Lila nodded. Edna looked like a prune, and Lila wondered why she never got nosebleeds, her nose always so high in the air.
Edna Hapcord never married. No man was good enough for her. Truth was, no man wanted her. Even if she'd been lucky enough to snag some poor unfortunate in her younger days, she'd never had children because she'd never have had sex. For a man to stick his dirty thing inside her was something Edna found repulsive. It was something she never could have allowed. Such a disgusting act was the thing of whores and men with diseased minds.
"I'm having a love seat reupholstered and I need fifteen yards of fine Italian silk,” Edna said in her annoying pinched voice that reminded everybody of a dying cat. She reached into her blouse and pulled out a piece of lilac-scented paper she carried between her bosoms. She handed it to Lila. “I know a shop like this doesn't carry such an exquisite fabric, and it'll have to be ordered, so I took the liberty of writing down all the details for you."
"Thank you.” Lila forced a smile and dropped the piece of paper into her smock pocket.
"And when can I expect it?"
"It should be here next week."
"But, my dear child, that's not soon enough. I need it by Tuesday. Have it expressed. And I can trust that you'll pick up the extra postage."
Lila sighed. “Of course, Edna."
"Good.” Edna picked up her purse and headed for the door. “Well, Ladies, T.T.F.N.” Ta-ta for now.
"'I've taken the liberty of writing down all the details,'” Lily mocked. “I'd like to take a few liberties with her.” She balled her hand into a fist and punched a roll of flannel.
"Don't let her get to you,” Lila said. She put the day's receipts into the canvas bag and locked it in the floor safe. She'd drive into Eau Claire tomorrow and make the deposit. “She's not worth the effort."
"Well, I think she's got a lot of nerve. The richest bitch in the county and she demands that we pick up the express postage on something she wants."
"Oh, we're not. I plan to mark the shipment up forty-five percent. That should more than cover the extra cost."
"Good idea."
When the old bitch comes back on Tuesday, show her who's really in charge of things.
"What, Lila? Did you say something?"
"No, dear."
Lily rolled her eyes and twisted her face into a lopsided grin. “Oh, then it must be the voices inside my head."
She had no idea how right she really was.
* * * *
Cal's Gas—n-Go was next to the Dairy Queen and was the town's only gas/convenience store. The canopy lights were off, as were the pumps. A bank of lights inside the store shone a dim yellow.
Jarvis, Judge Majors, and Sheriff Ebert sat on overturned orange crates in the back storeroom while they waited for Cal Ramsey to grab the Cokes from the cooler out front.
The meetings of the Town Elders were held at the community center on Broadway and were always public. But this meeting was too important to wait until next month. It was also one that would be best kept secret.
Cal came through the aluminum swing doors with the colas. He handed one to each of them, then leaned against a stack of cases filled with empty, returnable beer bottles. He took a swallow of his soda, enjoying its syrupy sweetness and the crisp bite as it slid down his throat.
"Gentlemen,” Cal said, “we know why we're here, so let's get right to the point."
It was Cal, leader of the Elders, who had called the group together. As soon as Jarvis had the story from Taft, he immediately had gone to the Gas-n-Go to tell Cal. Cal, in turn, told the others and insisted they meet.
"Jarvis,” the judge said, “you've met Anderson. How much does he know about the cave and the old swimming hole?"
"Nothing, I don't think. He just moved into the place today. I doubt if he's had time to go hiking in the woods, yet."
"What about his kids?” the sheriff asked.
"I don't know if he has any. The subject never came up."
"Well, we're gonna have to tell him,” the judge said.
"Tell him what?” Cal asked. “That there's something in the woods that could destroy us all. I'm sure he'd believe that. He'd think the town was run by a bunch of lunatics."