by Aiden James
When they reached the parking area next to the trail that led to John Oliver’s cabin, the car screeched to a halt, just inches from the wooden guardrail. It had taken under fifteen minutes to make the drive and the clock on the dashboard read 11:58 p.m. The wind blew in strong gusts across the moonlit meadow, and the tall trees bordering the meadow’s edge bent severe from the weather’s force.
“We’ll wait here for you,” said Evelyn, her tone reserved.
David didn’t respond right away, staring out through the windshield toward the meadow. John Oliver’s cabin wasn’t visible from where they parked, just the entrance to the trail that led to the place. When he and Miriam visited two weeks ago, they veered from that trail, walking across the meadow to a break in the tree line, where another path, overgrown and forgotten, took them a mile back into the woods to the ravine. He’d envisioned this moment for the past week with dread, but now felt relieved it had arrived. His troubles would soon be over.
He opened the car door once the clock clicked over to midnight.
“Ya’ll can wait here if ya’ll like, or ya’ll can move on,” he said. John glared at him from the backseat. “I imagine this’ll take thirty minutes or so. But if I’m not back here in an hour’s time, it’ll mean she got the best of me and ya’ll would be better off just gettin’ on home.”
David couldn’t believe the deep country drawl and casual indifference to the people who had so wonderfully befriended him. He hated himself, but couldn’t override it. So alien, and at the same time amazingly comfortable.
Without another word he unfastened his seatbelt in irritation and stepped out of the car. A stiff gust of wind embraced him, veering from the meadow. Although the air was quite chilly, he didn’t bother to zip his coat. He absently closing the driver’s side door and stepped away from the vehicle. Before the dome light dimmed to where Evelyn and John’s faces were no longer visible, David had already disappeared from their view, hurrying along the trail to his destined appointment with Allie Mae.
Chapter Thirty-seven
The wind continued its assault, growing stronger once he veered away from the path. His shoes crunched upon the frost-covered grass and weeds that served long ago as Mr. Oliver’s pasture for his livestock, and he smiled and picked up his pace with resolute purpose. No longer fearful, the isolated loneliness brought comfort to him and an unfamiliar solace while surveying the undisturbed countryside glistening in the moonlight. It mattered not that the tree line he headed toward stood ominous, immersed in deep shadows.
To his right sat the Oliver cabin. Its roof brightly awash from the moon’s eerie glow, the rest of the one-time residence lay hidden in darkness. A small orb of red light danced near the porch and then disappeared as it moved behind the cabin, reappearing at the edge of the woods before vanishing again. Seeing something like it thirty minutes ago might’ve sent him scurrying back to his car. But not now. He merely grunted.
David kept moving…less than a hundred feet away from the break in the tree line, where Miriam and he took turns posing for snapshots three Saturdays before. The tops of two wooden posts, the only remnants of a gate that once stood there, peered out from the bushes shrouding the overgrown trail to the ravine. A hazy figure stepped out from the shadows near the gateposts.
Another burst of energy surged through his being, bringing a wide, leering smile to his face. He casually glanced at his watch, as if checking an appointment. The time was 12:06 a.m.
“Just like old times, ain’t it girl?” he called out to the figure that grew solid as he approached.
A young female, barefoot and dressed in the blue gown he recognized, the moonlight formed a soft halo around her strawberry blond hair. For the moment her head hung down, hidden by her gorgeous locks. She didn’t respond to his call.
“I’m about to teach you another lesson, Allie Mae, and give you what you’ve been waitin’ for all these years,” he told her, slowing his pace as he awaited her reply
Sixty feet away from where she stood…. He pointed to her with his left hand, shaking his index finger menacingly while reaching inside his coat pocket with his right hand.
“I’ll bet yer just achin’ for….”
His words dropped off when he pulled her bag of treasures from his pocket. Once his fingers touched the stains from Norm’s blood, the sensation that had seized his body and controlled his thoughts and words receded. An icy rush of tingles pricking the flesh along his lower back followed this. Whatever force had possessed him exited there now.
David’s vision blurred for a moment and when it cleared he found himself clutching the bag tightly in his hand. He couldn’t remember why he held it, surprised to see tall grass and weeds surrounding him. He looked around anxiously while zipping up his coat, until he saw the shrouded lonely cabin to his right.
“Oh, shit!”
He stood alone in the middle of Cades Cove…or did he? Fragmented images of what brought him to this place began to trickle into his awareness, including the unfamiliar twang and careless words that flowed from his mouth. A wave of incredible terror and regret swept through him.
He slowly looked over to where the girl waited, now solidified. Her head no longer faced the ground. Instead she faced him, the impenetrable dark shadow obscuring her facial features. The moonlit halo surrounding her shimmering hair made her head even more ghastly. The air around him grew extremely cold, and he noticed her bare slender arms shook at her side. She was more than a tad upset.
“Allie…Allie Mae, I-I’ve come to return this t-to y-you,” he stammered, taking a careful step closer to her. He raised his hand and took another tentative step, holding the bag out. “I’m sorry if I said anything to offend y-you. I just want to make peace—”
He didn’t finish his words. Still more than fifty feet away, in the next instant her form appeared right in front of him, just inches away. He bumped into her frigid corpse. She grabbed him by the arms and searing pain ripped through muscle and bone, like a pair of buzz saws slicing through his coat and sweater’s sleeves. Allie Mae rose up off the ground and brought her face close to his. He feared being absorbed by the deep shadow shrouding her face. But what he saw next made him wish for that shadow instead.
“Ya murderer-r--r! M-m-u-u-rder—r-r!!” she shrieked.
The shadow drew away, and under the moonlight’s illumination he saw her face clear. The beautiful blue eye and delicate features of a gorgeous young woman spattered with blood on the right side of her face, her narrowed eye and frown emphasized her wrath. But the left side of her face caused him to fight with all his might to free himself from her ironclad grip.
Her left eye, a ruptured mass barely attached to the optic nerve that lay exposed along with a portion of her brain that oozed and pulsed through the destroyed socket. The bones from her forehead down to her chin violently crushed, the flesh had been beaten to a bloody pulp of mashed muscle and sinews. Her lips had been partially torn away, the teeth from a once spectacular smile either missing or broken while the remaining handful were barely attached to the left side of her splintered jawbone. The carnage continued down to the top of her throat, where her carotid artery and windpipe had been torn through.
“MURDERER-R-R! GOD DAMN YA, BILLY RAY-Y-Y!”
An icy shower of blood drenched his face as she screamed at him, forcing him to his knees. Rather than the brave warrior Sha-hinta he felt like a timid squaw, despite the fact the pastes on his face tingled once the blood touched them, sending waves of warmth through the rest of his body and easing the pain from her grip on his arms. But the sound of steady breaths wheezing through her damaged throat easily overmatched the promise of supernatural aid. The pulsing gurgle told him her larynx filled with another round of blood, ready to be sent forth at any moment.
He fought even harder to get away but she effortlessly subdued him, pushing him onto his back and throwing herself on top of him. She embraced his body, her dead cold flesh penetrating his garments as if intending to merge with h
is living tissues. He screamed in terror and the ground collapsed beneath him, opening into a huge chasm. The wind from his rapid descent pushed the hood of his coat up to where the steel snaps slapped painfully against the side of his face.
The free-fall increased in speed, and he feared being sucked into the very core of the earth. But then his descent stopped, abrupt and painless. A mountain stream murmured to his right, and as he listened, other sounds filled his ears. A symphony of chirping insects and croaking frogs surrounded him, along with an owl’s intermittent calls. He opened his eyes, terrified he might find that horrible face gazing at him and ready to send forth another shrieking rain of blood. But Allie Mae wasn’t there.
Lying on his back beneath a medium-sized oak, it took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. When they did, he recognized dim outlines from the ravine he had visited twice before. Unlike his visit with Miriam, when the dried streambed told of decades when no water flowed through the ravine, the area looked similar to how it did when he observed Allie and her playmate, Zachariah, as kids.
The oak’s foliage sparse, the sky beyond was almost fully visible through the branches. A thousand stars filled the night sky, where the moon had disappeared. He sat up, feeling the cool grass beneath his hands. The scents of daffodils and honeysuckle filled the humid night air, and as he got back on his feet a bullfrog startled him as it flew past his waist. It splashed in the water before hopping to the other side of the stream on his right. As he followed the sound he saw the clumped trees he hid behind in his dream from a week and a half ago. Larger now with more carved names than he remembered seeing then, the trees held fewer names than what he witnessed with Miriam.
This gave him his immediate location in the ravine. He stood up and turned toward the oak. Hard to be certain since the tree appeared a lot younger and its trunk much narrower than when it shaded him and Miriam on their fateful picnic, logic said it had to be the same one. For the moment its tender bark was clean, spared the ritual butchery visited upon several of its neighbors. To the left of the tree, just five or six feet away, sat a large stone slab. Similar in shape and thickness to the one that formed the ledge over the ravine near its mouth, the slab sat upon a pair of small boulders, and looked as if someone had created a bench to sit on close to the stream.
A faint glow appeared at the top of the ravine and the sound of footsteps announced someone was coming. David slid around the tree and ducked down. The yellowish glow grew brighter and the footsteps continued their approach. The top of a candle lantern soon visible, a young man stepped onto the ledge. Dressed in a white shirt and an old fashioned brown suit with a narrow black tie, his dark hair glistened in the lantern’s glow as if wet from water or some sort of oil. The tips of his shoes muddy, he looked around the ravine with the lantern held out before him.
David gasped.
“Ty??”
The young man stopped to listen, and David stepped out from behind the tree.
“Ty, it’s your dad. It’s me!”
He pointed his lantern toward the oak where David stood, but said nothing. He leaned his head out and squinted, perhaps trying to see who called, but then shrugged his shoulders. Another set of footsteps approached, much softer than his, and soon another lantern’s glow appeared at the top of the ravine.
“What are ya lookin’ at?”
The female’s voice sounded youthful and sweet. The young man smiled sheepish and brought his lantern around to where it hung in the air next to the other. Allie Mae McCormick now stood in the lanterns’ collective glow. She wore a blue bonnet, with her hair curled in ringlets that framed her face. Her face stunningly beautiful, she smiled serene with an innocence David would’ve never guessed existed, based on his experiences. Her deep blue eyes glistened in the candle flames’ glow.
“Nothin’ I guess,” said the young man, glancing away after eyeing her shapely form so deliciously attired in her blue gown.
She looked somewhat taller to David, and when he noticed the heeled laced black boots she wore, it seemed she had gone to great trouble to not only look nice for the late night meeting with her apparent beau, but she certainly endured some discomfort in traveling dressed this way. But whatever foot pain or assaults from mosquitoes and gnats he saw swarming near them, she didn’t let on that any of it bothered her.
“Well, I’ve come just as I said I would, Zachariah,” she told him. “I’ve brought ya a present, too.” She giggled.
“Oh, my God!” whispered David, after recognition of this moment fully hit him. This had to be the night of her death, somehow relived, but for whose benefit? If for him, was this kid named Zachariah somehow involved?
He marveled at how this teenage boy appeared a near-dead ringer for his eldest son. Even the kid’s mannerisms were similar. Coupled with the fact Allie Mae wore the same gown, it all made sense. He now discerned the wraith’s gown bore tears and buttons missing, which had previously escaped his notice. Obviously, the bonnet and shoes would disappear before the night ended. Could the innocent looking young man be capable of the powerful hatred and violence that at some point destroyed her face? He didn’t think he could handle witnessing such a crime, especially from someone who so closely resembled Tyler.
She carried a bouquet filled with honeysuckle and lilacs and attempted to give it to Zachariah.
“Why don’t ya wait on that,” he told her, seemingly pleased by the gesture but anxious to lead her down to the stream. “I’ve got somethin’ to show ya first!”
They moved down the side of the ravine opposite David and crossed over toward his hideout. Eerily, the two followed the same course he and Miriam had taken when they first visited the ravine. Allie Mae held her gown as they stepped on flat stones above the stream’s surface to get to the other side. As she did, part of the bouquet fell into the water. She tried to reach down and grab the flowers and almost fell in. Zachariah caught her, guiding her up the bank to where the bench sat.
“My, oh my!” she exclaimed. “Since when did this get here?” She walked over to the stone slab, rubbing her hand against the top, admiring it under her lantern’s glow.
“Billy Ray helped me set it up,” he said, which drew a scornful look from her. “I needed his help when I first found this big ole rock, in the brush over yonder.” He pointed to a spot less than twenty feet away in the darkness, where the woods grew dense. The look on his face showed he desperately wanted her approval.
She studied his face for a moment and then smiled again.
“It’s nice,” she told him, brushing her hand over the surface to make it clean enough to sit on. “I guess it ain’t like Papa will be any madder if I sit on somethin’ like this after I’ve already muddied my shoes and splashed water on the bottom of the dress Momma made me this past Easter.” She laughed and motioned for him to join her on the bench. Once she sat down she set the lantern on the ground next to her feet.
Zachariah hesitated after setting his lantern to the side of the bench closest to the oak. He wrung his hands together while opening and closing his mouth as if he wanted to share some secret, but either couldn’t or didn’t know how.
“Will ya sit down?” she scolded, playful. “It’s not like I can stay out here all night. If Papa wakes up and finds me gone this late, I’ll get the worst whippin’ of my life!”
Zachariah nodded and sat down. When he did, Allie handed the bouquet to him. He thanked her and brought the flowers close to his face, smiling as he inhaled the powerful fragrance that even David could smell from where he watched them, a half-dozen feet away.
“The bench’s nice. I’m sure other folks would say it’s handsome too,” she said, while Zachariah alternated between sniffing the flowers and staring down at his feet. “How was Reverend Tillis’s sermon tonight at the Baptist church?”
“It was all right, I reckon,” he said. “I missed half of it, though, ‘cause Billy said we needed to leave if he was to help me get this set up. How was the sermon at ya’ll’s church?
”
“It was fine. A lil’ borin’, maybe, but Pastor Smith’s gettin’ better…. Set what up?” She eyed him, curious, after glancing around her. “The place to sit, or are ya talkin’ ‘bout somethin’ else?”
Zachariah laid the flowers on the bench next to him, sighing deeply while rubbing both hands on his knees. He stood up and moved over to the tree’s trunk, forcing David to duck further into the brush and overgrowth nearby. Burning up in his coat, he could tell Zachariah overheated in his dress clothes as well. A trickle of sweat coursed down the side of the young man’s face, and as he looked at the trunk it appeared that he closed his eyes and muttered a prayer.
Without turning around, he pulled out a small switch knife from the front pocket of his coat, the blade glistening briefly as he opened it. David worried this would be when the attack happened. If so, he would do whatever was necessary to prevent it, regardless of the consequences to him personally. Zachariah remained facing the tree. He lifted the knife up to the height of his chest and began to carve into the oak’s trunk. It took him a few minutes to finish and then he stepped back, admiring his handiwork.
“What do ya think?” he asked her.
She had waited expectantly for him to finish, but her reaction surprised David as much as it disappointed Zachariah.
“Oh, my dear Zach,” she said, her smile fading. She sighed, deeper than the one released by the young man. “Come over here and sit with me.”
Hesitant to do as she requested, his hand holding the knife shook. She took it from him after he sat down, folding the blade shut and placing it inside his palm. She then cupped his hand within hers.
“I’ll always love ya,” she told him tenderly. “Ya’ll always have a place in my heart. ‘Friends forever’. Remember?”
He looked down, shaking his head in dissent of her words to him. His shoulders began to tremble and he seemed on the verge of tears.