The Presence

by Shady Grim

  “I don’t know, but there’s only one way to find out,” I said and started to move toward it. He grabbed my arm and pulled me back.

  “‘Fools rush in where angels fear to tread.’ Ever hear that one? It’s a good one to remember.”

  “I have a better one. ‘Yea though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil, for Thou art with me.’ Thor could be over there, Ethan, and I refuse to give in to cowardice.”

  We walked side by side toward the apparition. Ethan had a death grip on the back of my shirt, and was quietly chanting a prayer to St. Michael. “St. Michael the Archangel, defend us in battle. Be our protection against the wickedness and snares of the Devil. May God rebuke him we humbly pray; and so thou, O Prince of the Heavenly host, by the power of God, thrust into Hell Satan and all evil spirits, who wander through the world for the ruin of souls. Amen.”

  We walked slowly in the direction of the apparition. Ethan walked with his eyes fixed on the glowing mist that was swirling around the trees only a few yards away. I continually scanned the surrounding trees with my flashlight to see if I could spot Thor or, perhaps, some kids pulling some kind of prank. When we reached about fifteen feet from the mist, we were assaulted by an overwhelming stench. It seemed a sickly combination of cheap perfume and decay.

  “What the hell is that stink?” said Ethan.

  “It smells like something died.” I felt a lump rise in my throat, and tried to shoo away the dreadful thoughts that accompanied it.

  “Let’s get out of here,” whispered Ethan. “Thor wouldn’t be dumb enough to get close to that thing.”

  “I can’t, that smell could be coming from a human body.” I tied to move forward, and he tugged a little on my shirt. “I’m a doctor. I have to find out what that is. There could be injured people back here.”

  “The only livin’ things back here are us.” He pulled a little harder on my shirt. “And if we don’t get outta here soon, we’re gonna be makin’ that smell.”

  “Come on!” I said through my teeth, and continued to press forward. When we reached about five or six feet from the apparition, it began to rapidly dart back and forth between the trees. It moved so quickly that it was almost a blur. The mist that surrounded it, however, looked to be moving toward us as if to form a buffer between ourselves and the column of light. It looked like a glowing pocket of shifting fog, but when I stared at it closely, it seemed more like a swarm of individual glowing balls writhing together. As it moved closer to us, a terrible pounding sound began to reverberate around us. It was impossible to tell from which direction it was coming. It was so loud that it made the ground vibrate. It was as if a giant was stomping its way toward us, but it didn’t sound like earth being pounded. It was more like an echoing metallic sound, like someone beating a brick wall with a heavy pipe, only the sharpness of the sound was muffled. Just when I realized that Ethan had let go of my shirt, I felt myself being picked up and carried away. He’d thrown me over his shoulder and was bolting back to the house. I shouted at him all the way back to put me down. When he reached the back porch, he dumped me onto the ground, and stood stooped over holding his knees and gasping for air.

  “God damn! I need to start workin’ out again.”

  “What the hell did you do that for?” I said as I rose to my feet. “And you tore my shirt, by the way.”

  “A simple ‘thanks’ would be nice.” He grabbed my arm and dragged me onto the porch.

  “We could’ve found out what that was,” I argued as I followed him into the kitchen and watched him open and close cabinets, and root through the refrigerator until he found something to snack on. He tossed me a small container of orange juice, chugged his down, and then opened a second and sat down at the table with it.

  “We already know what it is...or at least I do,” he answered sharply.

  I sat down across from him. “Demons again, right?”

  “After what we just saw, yeh still don’t believe?”

  “I believe we saw something, I just don’t know what it was. Maybe it was some kind of magnetic energy. I did feel my skin tingle and the hairs on my neck stood up.”

  “That’s called fear, Heather! Somethin’ was tryin’ to tell yeh to get yer ass outta there!”

  “I liked it better when I was bigger than you. Did you feel nauseous too?”

  “Yeah, who wouldn’t with a smell like that?”

  “Oh God, Ethan, my Thor is out there with that thing.” A lump rose again in my throat, and my eyes were rimmed with tears. “And my Nicky, I haven’t been able to find him.”

  “Don’t be silly, Heather. Nicky’s fine, a turtle’s no use to a demon.” Ethan shrugged his shoulders and waved his hand in a manner that suggested the impracticality of a demonically possessed box turtle should be obvious. “We’ll go lookin’ for Thor tomorrow, after we round up the guinea pigs.”

  After spending what was left of the night staring at the empty bed that lay on the floor next to my own bed, I decided to dress and go downstairs to look around for the guinea pigs. I met Ethan in the hallway.

  “You’re up early. It’s only five o’clock.”

  “I couldn’t sleep,” he said, rubbing his eyes. “I just need to get dressed, and I’ll be down.” I went down to the kitchen and, after stopping myself from pouring a bowl of water for Thor, poured myself a bowl of cereal instead. Ethan came in a few minutes later. His arms were loaded with a pile of my father’s old rifles, and he had one slung over either shoulder.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I ain’t goin’ back in there without a weapon.” He carefully laid the guns on the table and removed the two from his shoulders. “I don’t remember these, they look old. Are they any good?”

  “Those are Dad’s Enfield’s. They’re the ones we weren’t allowed to touch when we were little.”

  “Okay, I’ll put those back then,” he mumbled as he gently laid them on the table. “Oh, I remember these! They’re the old .22’s we learned with. They’re in great shape.” He picked one of them up and inspected it. “I’ll set these aside for the kids. Yer still takin’‘em out?”

  “Yes, but I’d like to look for Thor first.”

  “Don’t worry, he’ll probbly come back on ‘is own and then we won’t even need these.” Ethan reached for another rifle. “Ahh, I remember the Winchester.” He lifted up the lever-action .44 with a walnut stock and inspected it fondly. I, like my father, tended to prefer bolt-action rifles, but Ethan liked lever or pump-action rifles. There were six or eight lever and pump-action guns in my father’s collection. Out of all of the rifles my father owned, the .44 Winchester and the pump-action Remington 30/06 were Ethan’s favorites. The two remaining rifles that he brought down were a bolt-action .338 Winchester, and a bolt-action .270 Ruger. “Yer so lucky yer dad did this stuff with yeh. If my mom and dad had ever found out that I was sneakin’ over to yer house, they would’ve killed me. Especially if they knew about the guns; they hate guns.”

  “Mom didn’t like them either, but she never stopped me from learning how to shoot as long as we didn’t go hunting–which we never did. Dad didn’t like to hunt, and you know how I feel about it.”

  “Yeh probbly want the .270, right?”

  “I don’t think it’s a good idea to go walking around with guns, someone could get hurt.”

  “I’m not goin’ out there again unless I’m armed. Alright, I’m leavin’ the .270 for yeh and the .44 for me. I’ll put the rest back.” He picked up the remaining guns except for the .22’s and headed back upstairs. “Oh, by the way, do we have any ammo?” he shouted from the hallway. I got up from the table and walked to the doorway to shout a reply. “Only for the .22’s!” The sound of his stomping footsteps was his only reply, so I picked up my empty bowl and walked over to the sink to wash it. A few moments later, Ethan returned carrying four boxes of rounds for the .22’s.

  “How did you find the keys to the cabinet so easily? I didn’t think I was
quite that predictable.”

  “The one gun cabinet was open. Yeh must’ve forgotten to lock it.”

  It was a long-standing habit of mine to keep all of my father’s military collectibles under lock and key. I even kept all of the cabinets and most of the footlockers covered with canvas cloth. I was especially cautious now that there were two children in the house. Before Shelly and Jimmy arrived, I had shown Emmy many of the interesting gadgets that my father had collected over the years. She was as fascinated with them as her own father had been when he was a child. I thought I’d locked everything up when we were finished, and I was angry with myself for being so remiss.

  “I still don’t see the necessity of traipsing through the woods with rifles.”

  “We were caught off-guard last night. It’s not gonna happen again.”

  “What are we going to do with them, Ethan, shoot holes in the mist?”

  “That ain’t what they’re for,” he said testily. “I want to have some backup in case we run into some maniac out there. We’re gonna need some other stuff for that mist, or fog, or whatever that shit was.”

  “Let’s find the guinea pigs before we do anything else, okay?” He stopped to put the boxes of rounds on top of the refrigerator and followed me outside.

  “They usually run straight for the nearest shelter,” I said as I stooped to peek through the small holes around the bottom of the porch.

  “I see one!” he shouted, and I walked around to the other side of the porch to see him lying on his stomach and peering through a fair-sized hole in a very rotted plank. “I think the rest might be in there too, they tend to stick together. I’ll pull this plank away and yeh can scoot under and try to catch ‘em.”

  “I don’t know how well I’ll fit under there.”

  “Yeh’ll fit a lot better than I will.”

  Ethan pulled a three-foot-long section of wood away so I could crawl under the porch. “I see them. They’re all under here, but they’re at the other end. It’s not easy to move around in here.”

  “Crawl over to the other side, and I’ll bang on the wood and help yeh chase ‘em to the openin’.”

  “Okay,” I replied and he grabbed my ankles to shove me further under the porch. He moved me so fast that I didn’t have time to turn and smashed my head on a large rock. “Ouch! Lighten up; you just shoved me into a rock!”

  “Sorry!” he shouted back as he peeked under at me and laughed. He banged on the outside and pushed sticks through the holes to move the guinea pigs, but I couldn’t maneuver well enough to keep them all together. I didn’t have enough room to get up on my knees. Every time I tried to get some leverage, I hit my head on the floor of the porch.

  “They keep getting past me! I can’t turn fast enough!”

  “Alright, come on out!” he shouted and I backed out of the tight space, covered in dirt. “I’ll send the kids under.” Both Jimmy and Emmy were awake, fully dressed, and itching to get under the porch after their escaped critters.

  “You guys are up a little early,” I said as I stood up, slapping the dirt from my clothes.

  “Yeah, we couldn’t sleep,” answered Emmy. “We were wonderin’ if yeh found Thor?”

  “Not yet,” I said. “What about these pigs, do you guys think you can catch them?”

  “Yeah, we can get ‘em,” said Emmy with an enthusiastic nod from Jimmy to back her up.

  “Okay, they’re in the far corner, over there,” said Ethan as he pointed in the direction of the pigs. “Emmy, you’re smaller, so yeh crawl to the corner and chase ‘em over to Jimmy.” Emmy nodded her head and Ethan turned his attention to Jimmy. “Jimmy, yeh catch ‘em and hand ‘em out to Heather.” When both children agreed that they fully understood their instructions, he lifted his hand to salute them. “Okay, men!”

  They stood at attention, saluted him back, and shouted, “Okay, sir!” They both giggled as they squirmed under the porch. I had to laugh when Ethan started to hum the theme song for the old television show “Mission: Impossible” as we waited for the kids to score a catch.

  In just a few seconds Jimmy shouted, “I got one!” and I stooped to take her from his hands.

  “Thank you, Jimmy.” I handed the first catch to Ethan who held out the bottom of his t-shirt to use as a pouch to carry the pigs. In less than ten minutes, all four pigs were sitting snugly in Ethan’s temporary pouch, and the children crawled victoriously from under the porch.

  “I told yeh we could get ‘em,” said Emmy casually as she dusted off her clothes.

  “Good job, guys,” I said, “but before we put them back, we have to do a tick check.” All four of us sat on the floor of the porch, each holding a guinea pig. Ethan held Minnie, a rough-haired smoke-grey guinea pig with a patch of black on both ears. Jimmy held, Bumble Bee, an aptly named short-haired guinea pig with large black and yellow patches. Emmy held, Candy, a rough-haired multi-colored guinea pig with red, brown, white, yellow, and grey patches. Lastly, I held, Boo-Boo, a short-haired, mostly reddish, guinea pig with a white face and a small black patch around her right eye. “Sit them on your laps with their faces pointing to your feet. Now, from the back up, very gently lift their fur and look for anything dark or moving. Some ticks are really tiny, they look like little black dots.”

  Both children giggled when the pigs started trilling. “Why are they makin’ that noise?” asked Emmy.

  “‘Cause it tickles,” answered Ethan. “Check ‘em real good. We don’t want ‘em to get sick.” He looked at me and asked, “Ready for the belly check?”

  “Yep,” I replied and scooted closer to him so he could hold up Minnie for me to lift the fur on her belly. I turned to the kids and said, “Remember to always support the bottoms of any animal you pick up. If you just let them hang, it could hurt their backs. Okay, Minnie is clean.” Ethan leaned over to put her back in her enclosure.

  “You want to hold Boo-Boo for me?” We repeated the inspection on her. “Boo-Boo is also clean. Okay, Jimmy, your turn.”

  “Ow, she bit my finger,” he said as he pulled his hand back and plopped Bumble Bee back onto his lap.

  “That’s the first rule of animal care, Jimmy. Animals bite, even when they love yeh. It’s just the way they are. Did she break yeh open?” Ethan took hold of Jimmy’s hand and inspected his finger. “No, yer alright, just a little pinch.”

  “Put your fingers behind her front legs instead of under her chin,” I said as he gingerly picked up his nippy little charge. “She’s clean too.” Ethan held the top of the enclosure open for Jimmy to put Bumble Bee back.

  “Okay, your turn, Emmy. My God, that pig’s fat!” I blurted, taking in Candy’s considerable girth.

  “Yeah, I know. She eats a lot,” answered Emmy. While I was checking for bugs, I felt around her belly and turned to look at Ethan who easily read the look on my face.

  “She’s pregnant, ain’t she?”

  I nodded my head. “They sold me a pregnant pig!” With that statement both children jumped to their feet and started cheering.

  “Hey, take it easy!” Ethan roared as he stood to take Candy out of Emmy’s hands and gently set her down with her cage mates. “Be careful, yeh could hurt ‘er babies. Now, don’t pick ‘er up anymore.” Both children agreed that they wouldn’t handle Candy anymore, and Ethan gave them a final warning to cement the decree in their minds. “I mean it, guys, she’s off limits.”

  “Okay, Dad, we won’t pick ‘er up. We promise,” said Emmy and Jimmy gave his usual nod of agreement.

  “How many do yeh think she’ll have?” said Ethan.

  “Feels like three, maybe four.”

  Ethan rubbed his hands together and chanted, “We’re gonna have babies...we’re gonna have babies...” which started the kids jumping and cheering all over again.

  “You’re worse than they are.”

  “Yeah, I know, but baby guinea pigs are so cute. I can’t wait to see ‘em. Okay, how ‘bout yeh make breakfast, while I go change my shirt. I got Mi
nnie pee down the front of me.” He held his t-shirt away from his body to show a fair-sized yellow stain.

  “How do waffles sound?” I asked and received another round of cheers. “Wash your hands first.” They both ran into the kitchen and pulled a chair over so they could wash their hands in the sink.

  “Are we gonna be shootin’ these today?” asked Emmy, looking at the rifles on the table. Jimmy just stared at them in wide-eyed awe as he pulled the chair back to the table and sat down.

  “Well, these two,” I said as I moved .270 and .44 to the other side of the table, “are mine and your dad’s. You’ll be using those two.” I pointed at the .22’s.

  “Me too?” asked Jimmy.

  The shock of him asking me a direct question stunned me into silence. I looked at him blankly for a second before I stammered an answer. “Uh...yeah, you too, but I want to look for Thor first.” My answer was greeted with a round of high-five’s before Emmy thought of another question.

  “Which one was my dad’s?” Emmy knelt on her chair and leaned over the table to inspect the guns more closely. Both rifles had wooden birch stocks, but one was a shade lighter than the other.

  “The lighter one,” I answered while whipping up the waffle batter.

  “Then that’s the one I want,” she said, laying her hand on it to stake her claim.

  “How many waffles do you want?” Both children answered “four.”

  “Four? That’s a lot of waffles. Do you think you can eat that many?”

  “We always eat that many when Dad makes ‘em,” said Emmy.

  Who am I to tell them no? “Hey, guys, can you tell me how the guinea pigs got out?” My tone was purposely casual.

  Emmy looked at Jimmy, who shook his head “no,” before she answered. “We don’t know.”

  “Did they run out with Thor, maybe?”

  “No, they were in their cage when we went to bed. I don’t know how they got out,” replied Emily.

  “Were you in bed when Thor ran away?”

  “Yeah, but I heard some bangs and then a scream, so I got up.”