Beware the River

by Kitty Margo

  “BJ, listen to yourself, man. Do you really expect me to believe that the eyes in a painting, a painting mind you, of a buffalo followed you around your great grandmother’s house?”

  “No. Just her living room.”

  “Whatever. Anyway this gives me a good idea. We’ll have to figure out how to really do that for Halloween and scare the crap out of those bratty kids down the street. They would be so scared they’d wet their pants.”

  Why did everyone feel the need to comment on the subject of wet pants? “Yes, Billy. I do expect you to believe me, because the buffalo in the painting is alive.”

  “BJ, you might want to consider how completely psycho this sounds before you go blabbing about it to everyone you meet.” He knew I was dead serious, so he was trying to be as well, but failing miserably. “People will shun you quicker than one of Gram’s biblical lepers. Man, you have been watching too many horror movies because, trust me, it was only your wild imagination and nothing more. Just think about it. That could never happen.”

  “It was not my imagination, Billy. I know what I saw.” Although, I wasn’t about to convince him so why waste my breath?

  “You know what you thought you saw. What has gotten into you? You’re starting to sound like James with all these supernatural shenanigans.” I hung up the phone wondering if Billy was right. Could it all be just my overactive imagination?

  As I was reaching for the remote to press play and start The Avenger’s, I suddenly became aware of a steady thumping sound. What was that? Probably a squirrel. Squirrels were notorious for finding ways into Gram’s attic. Or it could be a rat. I would tell Grandpa so he could set a trap up there tomorrow.

  The more I listened, it didn’t really sound like something as small as a squirrel or rat. It almost sounded like someone walking directly overhead. The footfalls were too heavy for some…one. It was… some…thing… walking up there! Just as that thought was sinking in whatever it was began stomping on the floor of the attic! Hard enough to break the boards! In fact, I could hear the boards groaning under the force of each blow!

  It was trying to break through the attic floor… and get into my room! The painted buffalo had come to life again and intended to finish what he had started earlier – to kill me!

  I tried to jump out of bed, got tangled up in the covers, hit the computer desk, stood up, tripped over a football, and went rolling across the floor. I finally got to my feet and had my hand on the doorknob when I heard the sound of wood cracking and splintering behind me, followed by a loud crashing sound as the ceiling caved in. It was in the room with me now! Before I could turn the doorknob something… wet… grabbed my tee shirt from behind and was pulling me back into the room. It wasn’t a gentle pull either. Whatever it was, was using considerable force to keep me trapped in the room!

  There was no way I was going to look back and see what had me, and was tugging so hard that it was about to choke me. I didn’t want to see it. I just wanted to escape from it, with my life. But it was evil! I could feel it. I felt a sudden surge of adrenaline and lunged forward with all my might. The shirt ripped, I was able to shrug out of the sleeves, and was out of the room before the…thing…had a chance to grab my sleep pants and pull me back!

  Screaming, just like I did the night I woke up to find a humongous brown recluse spider relaxing on my chest, I streaked down the hall toward Gram’s room. Luckily, I would know my way around her house blindfolded, because it was totally dark. I wasn’t about to slow down long enough to flip on a light switch, either. I threw the door open to Gram’s room, dove headfirst into her bed, and pulled several layers of quilts over my head.

  How she slept through all the commotion is beyond me! I was making enough noise for her to hear without her hearing aid, but she didn’t move a muscle! She didn’t even miss a beat in her snoring. I snuggled my back against her back and buried my body under the covers trying desperately to find my happy place.

  I didn’t hear anything else for the rest of the night. Like I would have heard it anyway under the five quilts Gram keeps on her bed. I tossed and turned, occasionally sticking my nose out from underneath the covers for a breath of fresh air. But I would jerk awake at the slightest sound as the old house settled, so I was wide-awake when the sun finally came peeping through the bedroom window.

  * * * * *

  I was sitting at the kitchen table, in the chair closest to the back door in case I needed to make a hasty escape, sipping hot chocolate with marshmallows when Gram came down. My breathing still hadn’t slowed from the shock of opening my bedroom door earlier and finding my room looking exactly as it had before the buffalo had crashed through the ceiling the night before.

  There hadn’t been a single splinter of wood on the bed. The ceiling was completely intact. The cover I had gotten tangled in and fell to the floor with was spread neatly across my bed. Unable to believe what I was seeing with my own eyes, I had quietly closed the door wondering if I would ever have the courage to enter that room again.

  Downstairs, I looked out the window anxiously. What? Impossible! There was no wind damage. Not even a limb blown from a tree. The lawn furniture was in its usual place under a shade tree, and the hummingbird feeders were still hanging from the tree limbs with hummingbirds flitting around them. “Gram, look outside,” I said around a large knot that had formed in my throat. “There isn’t any wind damage.”

  “I didn’t expect there to be.” What? “I don’t think we had much wind, at least I didn’t hear any, just plenty of rain. But you’re up mighty early this morning.” She smiled and gave me a hug when she noticed that I had started the coffeepot for her.

  Pouring a healthy dose of French vanilla creamer into a cup of coffee she asked, “Do you want bacon and eggs, or pancakes for breakfast?’

  “I’ve already had a bowl of cereal, Gram.” No wind damage! Seriously? “I’ve got to get home and start packing. Billy and James are coming to spend the night at the cabin tonight, remember?” I reminded her of this as every hair on the back of my neck stood up and goose bumps tickled my arms. No wind damage! What I really wanted was to get out of this insane house of horrors and never, ever come back.

  “Oh, that’s right. I promised to fry up some chicken for you boys. Didn’t I?”

  “Yep, you sure did Gram.” I was desperately trying to push yesterday’s events to the back of my mind and make plans for the weekend. We were spending the night at Grandpa’s cabin on Pee Dee River and I was eager to get there. After the events of the last 24 hours, you can believe I needed a long vacation.

  Chapter 7

  Billy and James were at my house by noon, and we patiently listened to one final lecture on the do’s and don’ts of camping from my mom and grandparents. Then, just as we were about to leave, “Did you charge your phone, BJ?”

  “Yes, Mom.”

  “Are you sure you packed enough food?”

  “Yes, Grandma.”

  “Do you remember which hole to fish in for the flathead catfish?”

  “Yep, I sure do, Grandpa.”

  Finally, we had the food and fishing gear strapped to our four wheelers. James climbed on the back with me. His family was struggling financially, like almost every other family in this economy, and he only had a bicycle. We headed down the winding river road with me constantly glancing over my shoulder or shading my eyes to sneak a peak at the sky for the sight of any unusually shaped clouds or random lightening bolts.

  After dodging mud holes, briar bushes that would tear the meat right off your hide if you weren’t careful, and overhanging tree limbs, we parked under the shade of the cabin. The cabin had been built on stilts since the river was prone to leave its banks and flood the lowlands an average of once every four years or so.

  “BJ, did you tell your mom about the buffalo?” James had unstrapped the cooler and was grunting like an old sow as he carried it up the steps. “Or did you decide that wasn’t such a good idea?”

  “I thought about it, but
, to be honest I was afraid she might make me an appointment with one of the shrinks at the hospital.” I laughed, trying to make a joke out of something that in my humble opinion, was about as humorous as a rectal exam. “I think I should just try to forget it ever happened.”

  “That’s the smartest thing you’ve said in a long time.” Billy clutched one end of the overstuffed picnic basket and I grabbed the other as we fell in behind James.

  Once the four wheelers had been unloaded and we were collecting our fishing gear, I asked the question I had been dying to ask. I had to know if anyone else had heard the hurricane force winds, that didn’t cause one bit of property damage, besides me. “Hey, did y’all hear the wind blowing yesterday during that bad storm? I thought it was gonna take Gram’s roof off.”

  “We didn’t have a storm, did we?” James had a puzzled look on his face as he recalled the events of the day before. “No, we just had rain at my house. Why? Did you hear a storm, BJ?”

  When I didn’t answer Billy asked suspiciously, “Did you have a bad storm at Gram’s house, BJ?”

  “No.” I had no desire to relive the events from yesterday, or give them another reason to doubt my questionable sanity. They wouldn’t believe me anyway.

  “You’re lying, BJ,” James insisted, in that gotcha way he has. “You specifically asked if we heard the wind blowing during the, and I quote, ‘bad’ storm. How bad was the storm at Gram’s?”

  “It wasn’t that bad. Like you said it was just rain. Let’s go fishing.” Grabbing my rod and reel and tackle box, I headed to the river before they could question me further. Had I imagined the storm? Who cares? I could only pray that I had seen the last of the stupid buffalo and could get on with what was left of my summer.

  About a mile upriver from the cabin is the Tillery Hydroelectric Dam. Today they didn’t have any wheels open to release water from the reservoir and generate electricity, so the river was dry. We walked out on the riverbed and sat on a large rock to fish in the hole where Grandpa swore the big cats lived.

  A majestic bald eagle soared overhead guarding her nest in the top of a tall, dead tree. A long-legged heron stood in the shallows feasting on minnows. Turtles poked their heads out and occasionally a fish jumped and plopped back down in the water. Piles of discarded muscle shells were scattered randomly around the riverbed where raccoons had feasted on the juicy muscles. It was all so…normal, and just what I needed.

  Using the worms I had dug for bait, we caught a mess of crappie, bream and several small catfish as fast as we could reel them in. We released them back into the river since we had plenty of food for supper and didn’t have a way to freeze them.

  What a supper we had planned. Mom had packed corn on the cob for roasting and potatoes for baking, along with some hothouse cucumbers and tomatoes, minus the bathwater. James’s mom had sent two jars of her famous dill pickles. Billy’s mom had delivered two fresh-baked Hershey chocolate pies with meringue topping. My favorite. Gram had supplied a bowl of mouth watering fried chicken, and a pan of her homemade biscuits. Man, what a feast!

  Later, when the sun went down, we planned to go frog gigging and hopefully have frog legs for a midnight snack. Who could ask for anything more?

  Billy, being a city boy at heart, had his fill of fishing in a couple of hours so we swam in one of the deep holes of water. These holes were filled with the fish that normally had the entire river to swim in when it was full. Now, with the river dry, all the fish were stranded in the deep holes and we could feel the fish and every other form of river creature slithering against our legs. “What was that?” I shrieked and jumped clear out of the water when something cold and slimy bumped against my leg.

  “Um…. possibly a fish,” Billy said looking at me in a weird way. “What else could it be? The Lochness Monster?”

  “Well, it could be a water moccasin you know!” A few bumps against my leg had never bothered me before. I had been swimming in this river since I was old enough to walk. Now, after all the strange happenings of yesterday, even the fish put my nerves on edge and I was the first one out of the water. I couldn’t believe it. I had practically been raised on the river and now all of a sudden I was too freaked out to even swim in it? “I’m tired of the water. Let’s go eat.”

  Now I love to cook. Mom says I should go to culinary school and be a chef on The Food Network someday, but that’s not in my plans. Although I do cook most of our meals at home, my favorite being bacon wrapped hamburgers on the grill or barbecued chicken marinated with Carolina Treat barbecue sauce. I can make a mean bowl of sausage gravy for breakfast too.

  I started the charcoal, pulled back the shucks on the corn and dropped a pat of butter in each. Then I wrapped the corn and potatoes in aluminum foil and when the flames died down, dropped them on the grill. This was going to be some good eats!

  * * * * *

  After a feast fit for a king it was almost dark, so we were headed up the cabin stairs when James’s excited shout drew our attention, “Hey, look at that!”

  I stood rooted to the ground, too scared to move a muscle, as I watched a dust devil spinning along the dirt road toward us. It was swirling and gathering dust and speed as it bounced along the road. I was just about to take shelter from the approaching dirt bath, when it suddenly switched course and zipped harmlessly into the woods.

  “Hey y’all, was that dust devil spinning clockwise or counterclockwise?” James asked somewhat nervously.

  “Counterclockwise, why?” I said. “What difference does that make?”

  “We studied about the Navajo Indians just last year. BJ, do you ever pay attention to anything besides Megan Cobb in class?”

  “Not in history class, but what has any of this got to do with the Navajo Indians?”

  “The Navajo refer to dust devils as chindi and believe they are the ghosts or spirits of the dead. Their religious belief is that a dust devil is actually the last breath to leave the body at death.” He looked at me and then toward the woods watching the swirling cloud of dust until it disappeared through the trees. “They believe that if the chindi spins clockwise it’s a good omen. If it spins counterclockwise …well…a bad omen.”

  “Yeah, I remember some of that lesson.” Billy said then looked at me. “What is it Gram always says about dust devils, BJ?”

  “She says nothing good ever comes from a dust devil.” I had seen a dust devil just before the painting had come to life. I didn’t tell them about it though. James never would stop hiccupping if I did. I had a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach that seeing another one just before dark didn’t bode well either.

  “That’s weird,” Billy said. “You wouldn’t think there would be any dust after the rain yesterday.

  “Yeah,” I agreed, as my stomach did a couple of jumping jacks. “Weird.”

  * * * * *

  Inside the cabin we began a game of Monopoly. I was too exhausted for frog gigging tonight. I needed something to completely occupy my mind and keep thoughts of the buffalo out, if that was possible. I always win at Monopoly, but tonight I couldn’t get into the game of high stakes real estate.

  I didn’t notice when one of them landed on my property, so I forget to charge rent. I didn’t remember to collect my $200.00 when I passed go, and James, the banker, wasn’t about to remind me. He wanted to win the game too badly. Too late, I noticed that James had put hotels on Park Place and Boardwalk.

  About an hour into the game, I was so sleepy I could hardly hold my eyes open and was actually to the point of hoping to land on James’ Park Place just so the game would end. On my next roll, much to my relief, I did.

  “Busted!” James squealed like a stuck pig. “You are flat broke, BJ, and you will be soon Billy. So why not save yourself the immense humiliation of losing to me and admit defeat now?”

  “Just roll the dice and don’t worry about how much money I have,” Billy snapped, popping the top on a Cheerwine. “The game isn’t over yet, big boy.” He absolute hated to lose
, especially to someone who crowed about winning as much as James did.

  Too exhausted to listen to their bickering, which I knew would only grow louder until one of them finally bankrupted the other I climbed on my bunk. I was waiting for them to finish the game and turn off a couple of lanterns, but since I hadn’t had much sleep the night before I was sound asleep in seconds.

  * * * * *

  Sometime during the night I woke to find the cabin pitch black. Which idiot had turned out all the lanterns? Billy! The dimwit! It had to be him! James probably hadn’t slept in a totally dark room since he was in diapers.

  I lay there wondering what had awakened me from a deep sleep. That’s when I heard it. Something was moving around outside. “Hey listen!” I whispered to the others. I was straining to hear above the steady hum of croaking frogs, chirping crickets, hooting owls and other woodland critters that came out of the forest late at night. “Did y’all hear that? It sounds like a horse snorting or something.”

  “No, I didn’t hear anything BJ,” Billy mumbled before covering his head with a pillow. I knew this from his next muffled words, “Go to sleep, would you? The only unusual sound I hear is James and his snoring. Stuff a corncob in his mouth, will ya!”

  The second I shut my eyes there it was again. It was the sound of an animal blowing air through his nostrils. Why didn’t it wake the others? It sounded like the animal had a bugle stuck up his nose to me. Judging from the amount of logs James was sawing, he was sleeping peacefully through all the commotion. And Billy had enough pillows over his head to muffle the blast from a Civil War cannon. Then I heard the snort again.

  What was that?

  The sound was drifting through the window beside me, yet the actual noise seemed to be coming from the vicinity of Grandpa’s pumpkin patch beside the cabin.

  Then I figured out what the noise was.

  Deer or some other wild animal must be eating Grandpa’s pumpkins and trampling his vines.