A Thousand Yesteryears

by Mae Clair

  “The gray vines.”

  “I’d forgotten about that.” Katie laid her hand over Eve’s on the table. “It has to be connected to the notes on your windshield. We need to find out what it means.”

  “We?”

  Katie smiled. “I think we’re in this together now.”

  * * * *

  It was dark inside the igloo, the shadows in direct contrast to the afternoon light streaming from beyond the roughly hewn stone walls. Eve crossed the threshold, followed closely by Katie. A dank odor reminiscent of old metal, black earth, and mold greeted them. A shiver ran down her back as she thought of the ammunition once stored there and the contamination that had leached into the ground.

  There were legends, too, folklore she’d heard as a child. It was said even George Washington had encountered strange phenomena when surveying these grounds prior to the Revolutionary War. It made her wonder if some ancient power lingered in unseen ley lines that crisscrossed the TNT.

  Thankful she’d thought to bring a flashlight, Eve played the beam around the bunker, picking out splotches of graffiti—crudely scrawled names and dates, a reference or two to the Mothman, strange symbols she didn’t recognize. Hopefully, they weren’t satanic in origin. Blown away by the idea of Katie venturing here at night, she turned to her friend, impressed by her courage.

  “What do we do?” The eerie hush of the surroundings caused Eve to whisper and sent a string of goose bumps scampering down her arm.

  “Ask your question.” Katie spoke just as quietly, as if she, too, was affected by the unnerving silence.

  Uneasily, Eve raised her eyes to the darkened dome that arched above their heads. Even with the doors open, there was something claustrophobic about standing inside the bunker. She tried not to think of the creeping, crawling, and slithering things that might be lurking in the corners. Pitching her voice to carry, she addressed whatever manner of creature called the igloo home.

  “I need to know about my Aunt Rosie.” Her heart thundered a loud drumbeat in her ears.

  No answer.

  “A question,” Katie whispered. “You have to ask a question.”

  Apparently even in the supernatural realm there were rules. Eve thought for a moment, focusing on the secret everyone seemed to think Aunt Rosie had taken to the grave. “What was my Aunt Rosie hiding?”

  Silence reverberated through the dome. She waited, holding her breath, every muscle in her body tensed for flight should some malevolent power suddenly appear.

  Katie looked at her wide-eyed. “Try something else.”

  Exhaling, she nodded. As creepy as it was, the visit was starting to feel like a waste of time. Did she really think she was going to receive an answer from a disembodied voice in an abandoned World War II ammunitions bunker? Still, she’d been desperate enough to entertain the notion, driving up here and trekking through the woods. She couldn’t back out now.

  “Maybe you’re being too specific,” Katie suggested. “Try something more general.”

  “Okay.” Eve thought a second, then spoke in a clear voice. “Was my Aunt Rosie hiding something?”

  Ten seconds of silence passed. She was about to brand the whole thing useless and suggest they leave when something moved behind her. Spinning, she stumbled backward with a gasp.

  “Yes”.

  The voice was in her head, a rasping grate like dry wood scraping over pitted stone. The sense of something in the igloo grew, a presence that clotted the air and weighted her beneath a heavy shroud. A single glance at Katie revealed her friend felt it, too.

  “Did you hear that?” Katie whispered, her eyes enormous in the darkness. “It said ‘yes.’ The answer was in my head.”

  “Mine, too.” Her heartbeat ratcheted higher.

  “Ask something else. There’s something in here with us.”

  A fat slug of fear crawled to life in Eve’s belly. Fresh goose bumps prickled her arms. If she dwelled on the unseen presence for any length of time, she’d end up shrieking and fleeing in terror.

  Pretend it’s a Ouija Board…like you used to play with Maggie and Sarah.

  Rooted to the spot, she tried to quell the jackhammer thud of her heart. Aunt Rosie had hidden something, taking her secret to the grave. It had to be related to the vandalism.

  “Is something hidden in Aunt Rosie’s house? Something related to the secret?”

  “Yes.”

  The answer came quickly this time, delivered in the same scratchy murmur.

  Stifling a mushrooming bubble of terror, Eve forced herself to continue. Not only had the air grown thicker, it had grown colder, too. She feared her teeth would chatter and make her appear more frightened than she was. “Is it still there?”

  “Yes.”

  Would the being share more than a single word answer? “Can you tell me what it is?”

  Silence.

  Katie touched her hand, mouthed the words my sister.

  “Was Aunt Rosie’s secret related to Wendy Lynch?” Eve asked.

  “Yes.”

  Beside her, Katie made a choked sound and raised a hand to her mouth. “Did my sister run away?” she blurted.

  Silence. When it dragged on for ten seconds, Katie nodded to Eve. “You ask it.”

  Was it possible only one person could speak to the entity at a time? Dear God, what had they summoned? “Did Wendy Lynch run away?”

  The silence dragged, all-encompassing, like a weight pressing from above. It built in Eve’s chest, sparking a sickening realization. If Wendy didn’t run away, only a single alternative remained. She hated voicing it, but Katie deserved to know one way or the other. “Is Wendy Lynch alive?”

  “No.”

  Katie gave a choked cry. “What?” She gripped Eve’s arm, her fingers tightening in hopelessness and fear. “That can’t be.” Panicked, she looked to Eve.

  “I’m so sorry. But it explains what you said about Wendy.” She tried to soften the blow. “You said she was different those last few days, excited about her new boyfriend. A person like that doesn’t pick up and run away.”

  Katie looked desperate, tears glimmering in her eyes. “Unless that boyfriend asked her to leave with him.”

  Eve wrapped an arm around her shoulders. Her friend was shivering, too. “I’m sorry, Katie. I don’t think that’s the case.” The air thinned as if the thing in the bunker prepared to withdraw. The sense of pressure diminished, the air warming with its departure.

  “Don’t go,” Eve cried. There was so much more they needed to know. Somehow Aunt Rosie was tied to Wendy Lynch and her death. What had she been hiding? What had she known?

  “Was Wendy murdered?” If the girl was no longer living and hadn’t run away, odds were she’d either died accidentally or was killed. Maybe Amos Carter’s death was too fresh in her mind, or maybe she was just traumatized by the thought of speaking to a supernatural entity, but Eve immediately latched onto the uglier possibility.

  The air thickened again and an icy finger of cold swirled around Eve’s throat. The silence lasted barely a second.

  “Yes.”

  At her side, Katie wept softly, one hand pressed to her lips to choke back sobs. Eve tightened her arm around her friend. Aunt Rosie couldn’t have been caught up in something as heinous as murder. “Was my Aunt Rosie involved?”

  “No.”

  Thank God for that. “Did she witness Wendy’s murder?”

  “No.”

  She tried to think, unable to fathom what tied the two together. “Did she know Wendy was murdered?”

  “No.”

  Growing frustrated with the seemingly impossible web being spun, she bit her lip. Katie, at least, seemed to be pulling herself together. She straightened, her eyes watery, but tears no longer falling.

  “Eve, maybe it has something to do with Maggie. Wendy disappeared right before Maggie saw the Mothman in the woods. Do you think the two could be connected?”

  H
ad Maggie really seen the Mothman?

  Your Aunt Rosie knows.

  Somehow all of the events had to be linked. Even Mrs. Flynn had said as much. Unfortunately, she couldn’t think of a question that would result in a yes or no answer.

  Katie pressed her lips together, looking grimly determined. “Ask it if Maggie saw Wendy’s murder.”

  “No.”

  The voice spoke for the first time to Katie’s question. She exchanged a startled glance with Eve. There was no doubt it was a strange experience to ask something of the air and have it answer. Her mind conjured images of the thing they couldn’t see—an extraterrestrial. A demon. A ghost.

  More goose bumps rolled down Eve’s spine. “If she didn’t witness Wendy’s murder, how can everything be tied together?”

  “Something happened that day to frighten Maggie,” Katie reasoned. “If she didn’t witness a murder and she didn’t see the Mothman, she saw something else. Something that terrified her so badly she wouldn’t leave her bedroom for three days.”

  “And only then because Caden coaxed her out.” Eve felt the phantasm’s withdrawal, an increased thinning of the air that told her the entity was leaving. “Don’t go,” she pleaded. “We need answers.”

  The presence became a bare whisper on the edge of her mind. In desperation she shouted one last question, the only thing she could think to tie three lives together. “Is Wendy’s body in Point Pleasant?”

  “Yes.”

  A crackle thrummed through the air, gone as swiftly as it started. The presence lingered a second longer, then wafted into a realm beyond their reach. In the natural silence that followed, Eve glanced at her friend. Within seconds, she became conscious of the trill of birdsong deep within the TNT, the creak of branches as a gentle wind agitated the trees. She felt drained, yet oddly wired with adrenalin.

  “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” She scuffed her hands against her arms. The unnatural chill was fading.

  Katie swallowed. “If Maggie didn’t see the Mothman and she didn’t witness my sister’s death, she must have seen her body.”

  “But she said something was in the Witch Wood.”

  “The Witch Wood?”

  “Just a name we had for the thicket behind Nana’s house.” Eve shifted as the memory washed over her. “Maggie said something chased her. Something gray that had red glowing eyes.”

  “Maybe she just thought that. Maybe she was so scared, she turned whatever she saw into the Mothman. Everyone was talking about the creature. It makes sense she’d latch onto that, turning whatever—or whoever—she saw into a monster. She was just a kid.”

  Eve followed the thought to its logical conclusion. “You think she saw Wendy’s killer?”

  “Maybe.”

  The pieces were starting to fall into place, yet a key element remained missing. How was Aunt Rosie involved? “Then your sister’s body could still be there…in the Witch Wood. We have to go back to the place where Maggie saw the Mothman.”

  “And do what?” Katie looked stunned. “Are you suggesting we dig for Wendy’s body?”

  “Not we.” Eve gripped her by the elbow and steered her from the igloo. “I know it sounds horrible, Katie, but you want to find out what happened to her, don’t you?” She drew a deep breath. “This is starting to become more than we can handle, but I have an idea.”

  * * * *

  It took two days before Eve could get Caden and Ryan together for dinner with her and Katie. Ryan’s work shift was at fault, but eventually he rotated onto a daylight schedule, and she was able to set up a casual dinner for all of them at her house.

  She was in the kitchen preparing a tossed green salad to go with the chicken she had baking when she heard a thump outside. Craning her neck, she glanced out the kitchen window but didn’t see anything amiss in the yard. Discounting the noise as inconsequential, she located a roll of plastic wrap in the nearest drawer, tore off a section, and fit it over the salad bowl.

  Another thump.

  Frowning, she opened the door to the screened porch, then exited to the yard where the lawn unfurled in sun-dappled patches of green. She’d hired a neighborhood boy to take care of mowing and edging, but he wasn’t due back for another two days. Maybe he was banging around in the gardening shed. Although, from what she could see, the door was closed and appeared to be locked.

  Thump. Thump.

  Keying in on the location of the noise, Eve circled the side of the porch and immediately recoiled.

  Oh, God.

  A horrified gasp tumbled from her lips when she spied the poor creature floundering on the ground. Whatever manner of animal had caught and mauled the crow had shredded the bird’s wings until only ragged tips remained. Trapped in a death throe, it banged against the house with every failed attempt to fly.

  Eve stumbled backward, bile rising to her throat. No animal could have done that. Not to both wings, leaving the torso intact. That meant a human perpetrator. Nervously, she glanced around, fearful whoever committed the atrocity lingered nearby. But there was nothing remotely sinister in the shower of sunlight spilling through the trees or the gentle skip of wind through the grass.

  The bird made one final heartrending attempt to fly, flopped to the ground, and was still. Tears burned Eve’s eyes. School pranks were one thing, but to sadistically mutilate the crow indicated a frighteningly dark nature. She couldn’t leave it there, broken and abandoned like a thing of no value. Driven by equal parts anger and horror, she jogged back to the house, intent on locating the key to the shed. She would find a shovel and bury the bird. It deserved that much.

  Before she’d taken two steps into the kitchen, the phone erupted in a jarring ring.

  Eve pressed a hand to her chest to compose herself, rattled by the senseless slaughter of the crow. She wasn’t certain if it had managed to flounder into her yard or someone left it there in another deliberate attempt to scare her off.

  Swallowing hard, she picked up the receiver. “Hello.”

  Two seconds of silence preceded an inhuman screech that made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end.

  Schreeeeeeee…eeeeee...schreeee…

  Eve slammed the phone down, her legs abruptly weak. She pressed her hands to her face, muffling a cry. She’d thought she was done with the calls and was suddenly weary of looking over her shoulder for a stalker. For all she knew, the mysterious caller could be the same person who’d butchered the crow. “Eve, are you in there?”

  She jumped at the sound of a woman’s voice, but a cautious glance through the back door revealed Doreen Sue Lynch on the stoop of the screened porch. She stood with her hand raised as if to knock.

  Eve exhaled in relief. “Doreen Sue, what are you doing here?” She quickly crossed the porch to open the door to the yard.

  The woman looked better than the last time Eve had seen her. Her make-up was fresh, expertly applied, if a little gaudy, her blond hair sprayed and teased to perfection. Dressed in denim shorts, spiked sandals, and a bright fuchsia top, she hardly looked like someone in mourning.

  “My last appointment at the salon canceled, and I had some time to kill before I pick up Sam for the movies tonight. I hope you don’t mind.” Doreen Sue bit her lip as if uncertain of her welcome. “I know I didn’t make the best impression at our last meeting, so I thought I’d drop by and say hello.” She smiled awkwardly. “Hello.”

  When Eve didn’t immediately respond, she tried again. “I rang the bell at the front door but no one answered. I thought maybe you were in the yard.”

  Eve touched her neck as if waking from a trance. “I’m sorry. I was out back earlier. And I understand you were upset when we met before. Please, come in.” She held open the door and stepped aside for Doreen Sue to enter.

  “Did I come at a bad time?”

  “No, I’m just a little distracted.”

  In the kitchen, she offered Doreen Sue a soda. The woman declined but slid into a
seat at the table, making herself at home.

  “Something smells good.”

  “I’m baking chicken with a cranberry glaze.” Eve sat across from her and attempted a smile, but her mind was still on the dead crow and the strange phone call. “How have you been? I mean…since Amos?”

  “Better.” Reaching into her purse, Doreen Sue removed a pack of Virginia Slim menthols. She tapped the top against her hand as if preparing to eject a cigarette, then seemed to recall she wasn’t at home and absently waved the pack in the air. “There’s been nothing new from the police, but everyone has been so kind. The girls at my salon. My customers. Even Katie.”

  “Why would that surprise you?” Eve was genuinely taken aback. “She’s your daughter.”

  Doreen Sue frowned, the press of her lips revealing age lines at the corners of her mouth. “We do all right, but I’ve always had the feeling she doesn’t approve of me. My lifestyle.”

  Eve bit her lip, uncertain if she was qualified to comment. Katie Lynch had become a good friend in a short time, and she didn’t want to jeopardize that relationship. At the same time, her heart went out to Doreen Sue. Even as a little girl, Eve had thought the woman genuine despite her faults.

  “Katie just wants what’s best for you.”

  With a disdainful roll of her eyes, Doreen Sue tossed the cigarettes into her oversized purse. “Katie wants what’s best for her, and that includes a mama who’s less colorful.” She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. She lets me see my grandson, and right now that’s all I care about. Now tell me—what has you upset?”

  Eve opened her mouth to deny anything was wrong, but before she could utter a word, Doreen Sue waggled a bubblegum-pink fingernail in her direction. “Don’t tell me there’s nothing wrong. I’ve been around women—stylists and customers—all my life and could write a book on the nuances of body language and facial expressions. Ha! Bet you didn’t think I knew that word nuances, did you? I’m a lot brighter than Katie gives me credit for.”

  Eve clamped her mouth shut. She hated to hear the woman put herself down, especially belittling herself in her daughter’s eyes. “Mrs. Lynch, I never—”