by Aiden James
Peter’s expression turned serious as he pondered Jack’s question.
“No, I don’t think your grandpa’s story is a load of crap,” he said finally. “All I wanted to stress to you earlier is that this stuff may not fly too well with the other agents listening to us now, or whoever reviews the transcript later on. Hopefully you now realize that if anyone from this agency can be your ally, it must be me. Like I said earlier, you’ve got to trust me, Jack.”
Jack studied the agent’s face, nodding slightly to confirm his belief in Peter’s honesty.
“All right. But, I warn you the rest of what I’ve got to say will remain on the other side of ‘normal’—same as nearly everything I’ve told you so far,” he advised. “Much of what I know of the tornado that destroyed our home came from a trio of other eyewitnesses—not the Palmers, by the way.
“So, there’s nothing at all to add from the Palmers?”
“Definitely not anything from those sons of bitches!” said Jack in disgust, his mouth curved downward in an angry grimace. “Hell, no! The only eyewitnesses I’m talking about are Freddy Stinson, Jeremy’s best buddy, and his little brother Kyle. Along with another of my brother’s pals, Ronnie Holmes.”
Peter frowned and picked up one of his journals again, paging quickly through it as he sought to confirm this latest revelation.
“It’s not in there, I assure you,” said Jack. “None of them ever came forward. At first it was because they didn’t want to be ridiculed for what they saw. Then, after Carl Peterson and Sheriff McCracken were murdered, they swore one another to secrecy. They finally told Jeremy almost two years later, after my brother first told them he’d turned his life around and quit carousing and smoking—cold turkey on both accounts. He’d just gotten his high school diploma and was already accepted into the University of Alabama. The clincher for his buddies came when he revealed his dream of becoming an archaeologist. They told him everything at that point.”
“Then Jeremy told you. Is that assumption correct?”
“Yes. That’s right,” said Jack. “The account I’m fixing to tell you is a mixture of sorts. Some information is from me, along with Jeremy and Grandpa. The rest is from the stuff Freddy, Kyle, and Ronnie told Jeremy. Are you ready?”
“Ready when you are!”
Peter resisted the urge to pick up his pen, relaxing sheepishly in his chair.
“All right, then.” Jack straightened in his chair and leaned forward again. “Sometime around two in the morning, after Grandpa and Jeremy had gone to bed, Freddy, Kyle, and Ronnie snuck behind our property. They were determined to verify the damage caused by Vydora. As you can probably guess, Jeremy couldn’t keep his mouth shut.
“I don’t imagine my brother figured his buddies would ever venture into the woods without him—especially not that soon. When they reached our back wall and saw the multitude of blackened trees, Kyle, who was fifteen at the time, chickened out. Freddy and Ronnie were furious at him, since they’d gone to the trouble of bringing him along at his insistence. Freddy adamantly told him no way in hell they were going home, at least not until Freddy and Ronnie were ready to do so.
“Kyle began to whimper. As the older boys were afraid he’d start bawling and either wake us or the Palmers up, they tried to calm him down. That didn’t happen until Freddy told Kyle he could wait for them near our property, and then also promised him that he’d be given full access to Freddy’s mature-rated video games for a week. Freddy and Ronnie helped him climb over the Palmer’s wall, since it was lower than ours. Kyle crouched in a corner next to our property to avoid detection by anyone, while Freddy and Ronnie began their trek to the clearing through the woods.
“I doubt they’d ever ventured into these woods before, but I can imagine how eerie it was to travel through a burned-up forest under a full moon. It didn’t take them long to reach the old bridge that crossed the Black Warrior River. Half an hour later they stood in the midst of the clearing.
“The night older by then, the sky was clear. The moon had traveled toward the northwest corner of the sky, leaving the multitude of stars more visible. Finding the old fort ruins proved fairly easy, since the clearing was brightly illuminated.
“Freddy and Ronnie moved over to the ruins, excited to verify the scene from Jeremy’s run-in with the strange critter from the previous afternoon. While examining the building closest to them, they noticed a blue glow emanating from the top of the rock formation.
“Jeremy’s buddies were a lot like him in that their foolhardiness usually ranged from moderate to outright insanity. Needless to say, they were attracted to the strange blue light like mayflies to a bug zapper. They ran over to the rock formation and quickly climbed to the top. I’m sure you can imagine their surprise when they discovered the source of the blue glow was actually a fiery mass throbbing, fervent, from the depths of the bubbling pool itself.
“They nearly fell off the ledge scrambling to reach the bottom. No sooner than they touched the ground, a murmur and thrashing sound came from above them. They didn’t see anything when they looked up, other than a mist hovering above the top. Not wanting to stick around and find out if a critter like the one that went after Jeremy and Grandpa was coming after them, they took off running. The bugs and nocturnal animals swarmed and scurried around them as they ran. Then, suddenly, every living thing around them stopped moving. The clearing became deathly quiet.
“Freddy and Ronnie heard a low thud-like sound coming from the depths of the pool. The sound grew louder, and the mist hovering above the rock formation began to thicken and lengthen. Before long, it became a swirling volatile cloud that continued to climb high into the air above the hot spring, growing larger and denser as it did so. Its color changed from gray to pitch black.
“The cloud towered more than a hundred feet in the air, throwing bolts of lightning into the surrounding area below. It finished lifting itself out from the rock formation. I imagine the bubbling water probably grew quiet, as the true source of its heat had now abdicated from its depths. The dark cloud headed east, in pursuit of Jeremy’s buddies, who looked over their shoulders from the eastern edge of the clearing before racing into the woods. Plants wilted and trees fell aside, and the air popped from fireflies and other insects venturing too close to the cloud.
“Freddy and Ronnie followed the same overgrown path we’d traveled along, stumbling here and there as the cloud followed close behind them. Like a depraved stalker, it mimicked their footsteps, angling back and forth as it pursued them to the river’s edge. They dove for cover behind a thick blackberry bush while the cloud crept closer. It stopped once it reached the foot of the bridge.
“My brother’s buddies were totally freaked out, hiding just a few feet away. The cloud remained for a moment longer, as if contemplating its next move. Then it drifted down to the water’s edge. It began to spin much more rapidly by the Black Warrior’s bank, and soon took on the funnel-like appearance of a cyclone, whipping the water in front of it with tremendous force. The river’s instability increased, churning powerfully with huge waves slamming against the fragile bridge and shoreline. When the Black Warrior seemed pushed to its final limit, the water suddenly shot upward, climbing high into the air and leaving a sizable passageway in the middle of the riverbed.
“Like the story of Exodus, where the Dead Sea parted for Moses, the spinning cloud crossed the riverbed and returned to its original form once it reached the eastern shoreline. The unfortunate fish, snakes, and snapping turtles in its wake were torn apart, while the grass and plant life on the eastern bank withered and died as soon as the cloud’s swirling edges touched them.
“According to Ronnie and Freddy, the twin walls of water remained high in the air until the cyclone cleared the river. Each wall somehow absorbed the river’s powerful southern thrust toward its merger with the Tombigbee. Once the spinning cloud reached the eastern bank, hovering above Black Warrior Road, the walls of water crashed down upon the earth below. The crushi
ng force obliterated the bridge, and the river overflowed both banks.
“Freddy followed Ronnie as they scrambled up the bank in terror. The water’s force threw them both to the ground, but they managed to climb away before it could pull them down into the raging current. They turned and watched the towering twister move swiftly toward the hill. It ascended the path along the hillside, scorching many of the flagstones with lightning strikes along the way to the top. While the river grew calmer, the tornado invaded the woods’ charred remains behind our home.
“There wasn’t enough time to warn Kyle or any of us about this development. The bridge gone and the water’s current too swift, they had no choice but to travel through the densest woods in the region to reach Bailey’s Bend Road. It took them nearly two hours to reach our house, and by then it was all over.
“When the churning menace emerged from the woods, it headed straight for our house. It threw an old weathered signpost from the field against our back wall that flipped over into the Palmer’s backyard. Kyle was terribly afraid but peered over the wall anyway.
“Terrified, he watched this enormous funnel cloud hover above the border of our property, shimmering in the moonlight. Despite his naivety, Kyle knew right away the cloud’s glow wasn’t caused entirely by the light of the moon. Like the thing had actual emotions. He could feel powerful hatred emanate from it.
“Banjo whimpered on the other side of the wall, just a few feet away. He often slept in the northern corner of our backyard, since it was normally the coolest spot available. Kyle climbed up the wall to check on him. A barrage of lightning bolts suddenly landed on the ground near Banjo. Kyle watched him cower deeper into the overgrown grass and weeds, trembling and crying in terror as trails of smoke arose from the strikes.
“None of us in our farmhouse had stirred yet, but that was about to change. A portion of the twister crossed over the wall and began to spread out into the backyard until it touched the sphere. Immediately, it recoiled itself and withdrew to the other side of the wall, like a child touching the red-hot burners on an oven. Kyle said it pulsed with even more malice, swirling faster and faster. The wind from this sudden change whipped across the backyard, sending violent gusts toward our house. Severely bent, the oaks’ solid branches began to break.
“Our kitchen light came on, indicating someone in the house had been awakened, though likely unaware of the danger lurking just outside the gate. Kyle watched the tornado move to the right as it picked a new spot to enter our yard. But before it crossed over the wall, the sphere rolled in front of it. It tried the left side of the gate and the sphere rolled to block it again.
“It couldn’t elude the sphere, which matched its moves perfectly. The contest continued as a stalemate until the tempestuous cyclone managed to elude the sphere long enough to bring its pointed lower section into the backyard. Landing next to the sphere before it could respond, the cloud sent a rapid series of lightning bolts directly on top of the sphere, exploding it into hundreds of fiery, meteor-like fragments flying in every direction.
“Kyle ducked down, though none of the fragments came into the Palmer’s yard. When he looked back over the wall, most of the fragments had reached the backside of our house, burrowing into the thick masonry and crashing through the windows on both floors. The tornado tore the massive oak out of the ground and hurled the tree toward the Johnson’s farmhouse nearly half a mile away. Incredibly, the tree flew like a missile and nailed the house. It buckled and collapsed on impact, and the main gas line to the house ruptured. The ensuing explosion sent fiery timber and debris into the barn next door. Within a minute, a fiery inferno engulfed the remains of both buildings, eliminating all evidence of Vydora’s visit, as you know.
“The next thing it picked up was the old truck, which it hurled at our farmhouse. The truck crushed the back porch, with the bulk of it carrying on into the kitchen, while the appliances were sent flying into Jeremy’s and my bedrooms upstairs. A loud explosion erupted in the kitchen, and flames soon poured out of the broken windows on both floors. Kyle said he could hear us frantically scurry about inside as the tornado descended on us.”
***
“Okay, you’re right…this is really strange,” observed Peter. But before Jack added words to his indignant expression, the agent raised his hand. “However, I’m inclined to believe it all. In a sort of weird way, it does fit the facts of what was later discovered in the woods and the Johnson’s farm. So, I’m with you brother—keep bringing it!”
“It won’t get any less weirder…at least not until we move past Kyle’s observation point,” said Jack, biting his bottom lip to keep from lashing out. He better fucking believe this, or it’s adios to the grand finale! Just one more critical comment, man, and I swear that’s it!!…. “I can always race to the end and skip over much of this, if you’d prefer.”
“No, no…that’s not necessary,” said Peter, his voice and facial expression revealing immediate regret, like he realized he’d almost blown it again. He held his hands up in mock surrender. “There’ll be no more interruptions or stupid comments—I promise.”
“Good,” said Jack, hoping his curtness reinforced that commitment. “Anyway, Grandpa was jolted awake by a loud thump coming from the back porch. He’d fallen asleep in his recliner while starting to read the latest James Patterson novel. His lamp still on, his favorite pipe laid on the floor next to his chair. The television was on, too, the volume turned to its lowest level, and Jeremy huddled asleep on the couch. Grandpa stood up and grabbed his shotgun, moving through the dining room on his way to the kitchen. He turned on the overhead light and peered out through the back door’s window.
“The powerful swirling wind in the backyard lifted small to medium pieces of wood and other debris into the air. He noticed the oak tree’s branches being pushed and pulled in extreme angles to where he knew they’d break at any moment. But, the train-whistle sound and the rusted pail and washboard impaled through the porch railings commanded his attention, along with the sudden explosion of the security light on the other side of the oak tree. A tornado was somewhere close by and he needed to waken Jeremy and me to get us safely to shelter before it hit the house, which he realized could be any time.
“‘Jeremy!!! Jack!!! Wake up!!!’ he called out, frantic, running from the kitchen to the front of the house. ‘A tornado’s coming!!! Goddamn it.... GET UP!!!’
Jeremy staggered into the foyer from the living room to meet him, his long hair billowing wildly around his face as he struggled to get his shoes on. Just then, a barrage of molten rock fragments from the exploding sphere came crashing through the rear of the house. Grandpa and Jeremy dove for cover at the base of the staircase, while a pair of basketball-sized fragments whizzed by their feet, barely missing them. The continuous sounds of wood splitting and glass shattering on both floors made it obvious we couldn’t stay in the house much longer, and that any place of refuge would have to be found somewhere else.
“‘Jack!!! Are you all right??’ shouted Grandpa. He motioned for Jeremy to stay put near the bottom stairs while he ventured up to the second level to look for me. He hadn’t made it very far when I suddenly appeared at the top with my own hair disheveled, clad only in a pair of blue jeans.
“‘Get down here, son!!!’
“Another fairly large fragment flew through the back wall upstairs and hit the floor not far from me. It flipped up into the air before landing again, and then rolled over to the stairway and down the stairs. It finally settled on a step in the middle of the staircase where its molten flames ignited the carpet runner. Within seconds, the fire spread across the stairway, threatening to join the myriad of other small fires that’d sprung up in our home.
“I scrambled down the stairs past the flames and joined my grandfather and brother at the front door. The old truck and appliances crashed into the house, sending even more splintered wood fragments and glass shards toward us, shaking the building to its very foundation. Nearly out of time, the
train-like whistle grew louder...closer.
“Grandpa cursed under his breath when he realized he’d left the Jeep’s keys sitting on the kitchen counter, already to late to reach the storm cellar in back of the house. Once Jeremy understood what he lamented about, he checked his jeans’ pockets and found his truck keys inside. He dangled them excitedly in Grandpa’s face to let him know we had a means of escape. Jeremy threw open the front door and we all sprinted to his truck, parked in the driveway.
“The black beauty his pride and joy, it came equipped with a chrome spoiler and headers to go with custom wheels for the oversized tires and wheelbase he’d paid dearly for. Just as fancy, the truck cab’s plush interior and state-of-the-art sound system. The best part, though, was the extra muscle the expanded engine gave my brother, and we prayed that powerful engine would save us now.
“We climbed into the truck and shut the doors just as the twister converged on the house. For the first time, we could see the spiraling cloud in its fantastic magnificence. Dense, black as coal. But the light afforded by the moon allowed us to see its details quite clearly. It loomed ominous, high above while easily dismantling the weakened structure of our house.
“Jeremy put the key in the ignition. The engine wouldn’t turn over.
“‘My God!’ Grandpa said reverently, his voice almost a whisper. ‘I’ve never...I’ve never seen anything quite like that before! Not any tornados, anyway—Jeremy!!!’ he shouted as he suddenly interrupted himself. ‘Let’s get the hell out of here, son!!! What’s taking you so damned long to get this thing started??’