by Aiden James
Jack slowly leaned back against his chair, curiously eyeing Peter.
What in the hell do you really want from me?
Everything on the table engendered a bevy of questions. He couldn’t shake the feeling Peter was after something specific and different.
After considering the proposal, he shook his head. He wasn’t sharing any more information. Whatever Peter and his pals gathered until now would have to suffice, regardless of the book offer.
“Why are you so reluctant? What have you got to hide? What could possibly be so important to keep it bottled up for so long?”
Jack looked down at his distorted reflection in the table’s surface. He sighed and defiantly shook his head.
“You’d never understand,” he said, sadly. “Unless you’d been there yourself, there’d be no way in hell you’d ever get it!”
The sadness underscoring his heated tone revealed the terrible burden he carried. Peter stood, moving to him. He stooped to his knees, and peered up into the trembling young man’s face. He slowly brought his arm around. Perhaps to comfort Jack, but Peter stopped short, resting his arm on the back of Jack’s chair.
“Jack, I have my own reasons for wanting to know. I’m about to take a huge risk that could cost me dearly. Beyond the exposure of my personal demons, it could cost my livelihood. That’s how badly I need to know everything. You’ll see my hell and yours are connected. Perhaps in ways you would never imagine.”
Jack faced him, eyes narrowing in an effort to discern the true depth of sincerity. Agent McNamee appeared on the verge of tears, himself. A volatile mixture of bitter sorrow and anger seemed to bubble and boil within the agent’s eyes, melding together into dark pools of sadness.
“Does the name Bobby Northrop mean anything to you?”
Peter remained in his awkward stance, peering into Jack’s face. Jack gave no indication he had any idea what the agent just asked him.
“I’m going to take a chance and assume you have heard the name. Even if for some reason you haven’t, I hope you’ll bear with me as I tell the story. Can you do that for me?”
Jack nodded.
“All right.” Peter paused. “About three months after the destruction of your home in Carlsdale, Bobby Northrop celebrated his ninth birthday. Until that day, he was a beautiful and happy child. His parents recently purchased a magnificent home in Shipley Farms, located near the edge of Bienville National Forest. That’s just to the east of Jackson, Mississippi. Ever been there, Jack?”
“No. I can’t say that I have.” Jack quietly wondered where the detour led.
“Yeah, I guess it’s most likely you haven’t.” Peter sighed, gazing briefly toward the wall to his right. “I suppose you haven’t been out of the state of Alabama much. Except for baseball and your recent journey here.”
Jack chuckled weakly.
“Well, the day promised to be special. And, it did turn out to be an extraordinary day, though not for the reasons anyone hoped. Bobby’s parents, Robert Northrop Sr. and his wife, Eileen, had prepared quite an event for Bobby. Maybe because their little boy’s birthday was the first to be celebrated in their fabulous new home.
“Kids everywhere, the main level of the house decorated with expensive garlands and balloons. You may have seen a video of the event later on CNN and the major networks, as Robert recorded it with his camcorder. Bobby looked up and smiled after blowing out the last candle on his birthday cake. His eyes sparkled with excitement.”
Peter’s voice trailed off and he looked down. He shifted his weight, and looked into Jack’s face again. Tears welled in his eyes.
“As soon as the cake was cut and everybody had their fill, Bobby’s parents took him outside to open his birthday gifts, stacked high on the back deck. Are you familiar with Raven Wolff?”
“Yeah,” Jack replied, thinking of the cartoon superhero. He cleared his throat. “That was all the rage back then, I remember.”
“Yes it was,” Peter responded thoughtfully. “It’s pretty much all little Bobby talked about. For his birthday present, his mom and dad splurged and bought him a Tower Den Clubhouse. Are you familiar with that, also?”
“Complete with the double slides on either end? That Tower Den??”
Jack remembered how much he’d wanted one.
“Yes, that Tower Den. Bobby’s dad and uncle, Lawrence Northrop, spent the better part of two days setting it up. How they kept Bobby from finding it before his birthday celebration is a story in itself. It truly was a magnificent piece of equipment.”
“I would’ve died for one of those things when I was a kid,” Jack admitted. “But, no way in hell would Grandpa shell out two grand for something like that.”
“It may have been pricey, but the thing was definitely worth it, you have to admit. It had the spiral slides and all kinds of other fun stuff, and could keep twenty kids occupied for hours. I thought the coolest thing was the clubhouse, fifteen feet above the ground and large enough to hold five or six kids at once. You could only reach that part by way of a rope ladder or a striped fire pole. Hell, if it wasn’t for all of the outdated Raven Wolff insignias plastered across the damned thing, I’m sure any kid would still dig it now.”
Peter paused, a dreamy look on his face.
“As soon as Bobby discovered the surprise birthday gift waiting in the backyard, he went nuts, thrusting his fists in the air as he ran screaming and dancing to the Tower Den. All the other kids converged and remained until each one’s parents arrived later that afternoon to pick them up.
“Around four o’clock the temperature started to drop. Once Bobby’s aunts, uncles, and cousins left, he and his older sister, Jenny Northrop, went inside. Jenny decided to remain inside and visit with her grandparents from New Orleans. Before long, she went upstairs to play Bobby’s PlayStation with her eighteen-year old uncle, who came up from New Orleans with her grandparents. Meanwhile, Bobby grabbed a jacket and ran outside. On the way out, he picked up the Raven Wolff mask, cape, and glove-claws his sister gave him.”
Unable to finish, Agent McNamee lowered his head and wept.
Jack didn’t know how to respond. Fighting weariness and a growing sense of dread, he wondered how the incident connected to him. He took a breath to say something, but Peter looked up, causing him to recoil. Peter’s face was red with fury, and his eyes blurred by grief. Jack prepared to hear something horrible.
“That was the last time anyone ever saw him,” he nearly shouted. “But, you know what? Bobby’s uncle saw something. Damned right he did.”
Peter now openly sobbed. Deeply alarmed, Jack looked toward the door, expecting the agent’s colleagues to bust into the room at any moment. The door remained shut.
Hey, dudes, in case you haven’t noticed, your partner here has blown a gasket upstairs! Time to get me the fuck out of here!
Undeterred, Peter continued to sob. “And, you know what else? Some kid in Carlsdale, Alabama saw the same thing just two months earlier!”
Jack felt the words hit him physically.
“Yes, Jack. I am talking about you. Bobby’s uncle just happened to look outside the same instant the little boy jumped off the deck. Dressed in the Raven Wolff outfit, his arms were stretched in front of him. As soon as he landed on the grass he stopped. Do you have any idea why?”
Jack knew why, wishing he didn’t.
“A goddamned golden mist poured out of the Tower Den’s clubhouse. It took him!”
Peter drew closer, his rage and pain radiating heat fervent enough for Jack to feel it.
“The uncle and his niece screamed through the window to get away from the mist, but this innocent little kid walked right into it.” His voice trembled. “All of a sudden, the mist shimmered, growing brighter until the entire backyard seemed immersed in an ethereal fire. The intense energy became so unbearable that Jenny and her uncle were forced to turn away.
“They ran downstairs crying, and alerted the adults. As it turned out, Robert noticed the strange gl
ow and passed it off as the setting sun enhanced by the security lights. Once Jenny and her uncle explained what they witnessed, he recognized his error in discernment. The golden light emanated from the east, not the west.
“Bobby’s parents sprinted for the door. But when they stepped onto the patio, the strange mist vanished, along with any trace of Bobby…”
Peter looked away and sat on the concrete floor.
“Carrying on like this must look pathetic, I’m sure.”
He dabbed at his eyes with a sleeve, looking into Jack’s face.
“If you can bear with me for just a while longer, I’ll tie everything together,” he said, voice hushed. “I believe you can guess Bobby was never seen or heard from again. When his mom and dad ran out onto the patio, Eileen fell to her knees and cried uncontrollably. She kept saying, ‘They came to take my baby, and he’s never coming back.’ Robert couldn’t console her, nor could anyone else.
“Jenny, her uncle, and grandparents were outside with them by this point, searching for Bobby throughout the area. All efforts to find him proved vain. The last thing found of him was the Raven Wolff outfit, which Jenny discovered lying on the floor of the clubhouse.
“The entire neighborhood joined in the search, and later the police. Eileen’s father had recently retired from the FBI and obtained the agency’s assistance.
“A small breakthrough came the next day. A police canine unit picked up Bobby’s scent and followed it for nearly three miles into the forest, until it abruptly disappeared near a small, bubbling hot spring. For much of the distance, a strange set of markings walked next to Bobby’s scent. At first, the only thing that could be determined from the markings was that they were some kind of footprint. No one could tell what kind of creature had made them. Near the end of the week, a prominent zoologist from Memphis identified them, though only generally. The tracks were reptilian.”
Peter’s eyes danced intently, as if expecting some important revelation. When it didn’t, he looked away and shook his head.
“Goddamn it, Jack. What’s it going to fucking take? You’ve got to help me out here! I mean, strange reptilian footprints in Carlsdale, Alabama. Smaller, but nearly identical ones found near Jackson, Mississippi. A strange golden mist outside your home in Carlsdale, confirmed by the Palmers. Another is witnessed by Bobby Northrop’s sister and uncle just three months later.”
Jack silently met Peter’s expectant gaze.
“All right, that’s fine,” Peter acknowledged, nodding as if he just read his thoughts. “Let’s move forward, then. Apparently it’s not enough I’ve humiliated myself. Or, is it?”
Jack remained stoic. He needed time to absorb the story before responding.
“Very well. Follow me deeper into my personal hell.” The agent sighed.
“I’ll bet you’re wondering why this means so much to me. Did you know Eileen Northrop told her husband, Robert, she felt like they were watched by an unseen presence?”
Jack raised an eyebrow.
“Did you ever see a photograph of this amazingly beautiful woman, Jack?” he asked. “Here, check this one, taken the day before Bobby’s disappearance.”
Peter pulled out several photographs from the inside breast pocket of his jacket. He placed one of the pictures in front of Jack. The last time he’d seen this person was on a tabloid cover years ago. Over time he had forgotten the names, but always knew the Northrop’s tragedy was connected to his own.
“I thought so,” Peter whispered, seeing Jack’s subtle nod.
Tone void of triumph, Peter stood and brushed his suit off. He moved to his side of the table. Jack’s blurry eyes followed.
“Eileen never recovered,” he resumed, voice hollow and barely audible. “She died the next spring, leaving her grief stricken husband to care for their only remaining child. Shortly after, in June, Eileen’s mother passed away from a stroke. The doctors told her husband, and Eileen’s younger brother, her health was likely impaired by the stress and sorrow she’d endured over the previous eight months.”
Jack sniffed and Peter abruptly stopped.
“This only gets worse, my friend. Remember I said we share the same hell? I’m quite serious.”
He slipped into his chair, shoulders trembling.
“You see, Eileen Northrop was my sister. I was the nineteen-year old uncle at Bobby’s birthday celebration, and the only one to watch him disappear into the goddamned mist. I’m the one who routinely checks on my niece, making sure she doesn’t take her life. And it’s up to me to make sure my dad, former FBI agent Merten McNamee, doesn’t do the same thing by swallowing the barrel of his service revolver!”
Peter buried his face in his hands. He broke down and sobbed, seemingly oblivious to how he looked.
“Agent McNamee,” said Jack, inches above him. “I’ll tell you what you want to know. I’ll tell you everything.”
re you ready?” asked Peter, his eager tone almost adolescent. Since cleaning up in the tiny restroom, the agent seemed refreshed.
While waiting for Peter to return, Jack paced around the room. To a casual observer he might’ve appeared calm. Silently, he was debating if he was doing the right thing or not. When Peter was set, Jack grabbed another Coke from the tiny refrigerator and joined him.
“Jeremy’s going to kill me for sure, once he finds out,” said Jack. “But, we get to check out the books for as long as we like. Right?”
“Absolutely,” said Peter, turning on the recorder. “Don’t worry about your brother, Jack. I’ll speak with him. I want you to be very thorough. I want every detail, including what you might view as unimportant, like feelings, thoughts, and physical surroundings. Describe everything you can for me.”
“I guess I can do that,” said Jack, surprised at the level of detail the agent wanted from him. “Some shit’s pretty personal, though.”
“I do mean everything, Jack.”
“Okay,” he agreed, and leaned forward. Peter did the same. “It was four days after my thirteenth birthday. My grandfather and I’d finished lunch, and I noticed this weird lizard resting on the back porch when I glanced out the kitchen window. I’d never seen anything like it.
“I mentioned it to Grandpa, but he kept reading the newspaper. Hell, he only half acknowledged it until I told him it looked exotic. He almost got up to take a look. But the phone rang and he answered it instead. I kept watching the lizard, hoping it didn’t move from its perch near the steps leading into the backyard. It sat, motionless, except for an occasional head twitch and flicking its forked tongue.
“As soon as Grandpa was done talking on the phone, I told him was still on the porch.
“‘Son, you’d be better off leaving that thing alone, I’m warning you,’ he said. ‘It could be poisonous for all we know. I wish folks kept better track of their damned pets around here!’
“‘It’s okay, Grandpa,’ I assured him. ‘I doubt very seriously it’ll bite. Besides, I bet it wouldn’t hurt much.’
“He frowned, and stared thoughtfully into his coffee mug. He might’ve remained lost in his thoughts if not for the slam of the screened door leading to the back porch. Before he could tell me to stay away from the critter, I was already outside. Peering through the screen, I caught him smiling a little. He advised again to be careful.
“I remember it was really hot that day. With the temperature near a hundred degrees, only the most desperate and foolhardy were outdoors. Like me, I guess. But I had to get a closer look. It remained in the same spot while I moved to it, eyeing me warily from atop the steps. It seemed kind of vulnerable, though powerful muscles flexed beneath its green leathery skin, and especially along its lower legs, as if ready to bolt at any moment. The lizard’s back arched high in a multi-colored fan along its spine, and brilliant hues of purple, red, and orange converged down its sides.
“Its most unusual feature was a crown of golden spikes and curved horns on its head—”
“Like a miniature version of the enormou
s dragon you later encountered? And, you never had seen anything like it before, I take it?” interrupted Peter.
“Yeah, that’s correct.” Jack wondered if every strange detail would engender the same immediate scrutiny. “If not for the bright colors and its unusual crown, the critter could’ve passed for someone’s wayward pet. I’d seen some similar sized lizards on display at Pet World in Tuscaloosa. The closest thing I’d ever seen was in a picture of a Burmese temple mural, inside one of Grandpa’s National Geographic magazines.”
“That’s quite interesting,” said Peter, his tone impressed. He clicked his pen open while paging through the journal.
“The lizard cocked its head to one side,” continued Jack, watching the agent jot several notes. “Its blue and gray eyes, incandescent, shifted slowly. I took another step and leaned toward it, closing the gap to a mere foot. Suddenly, it stood on its hind legs and took a swipe with its front claws. I barely escaped, which scared the bejesus out of me. I stumbled backwards, landing hard on my ass.
Peter looked up, closing his pen, and the smile faded into a more serious look.
“The little shithead hissed loudly and flashed a mouth full of sharp needle-like teeth at me.” A surge of smug satisfaction flowed through Jack. He had the agent’s full attention. “I scooted away quickly while it took a menacing step forward. It stopped and retracted a leg, turning its attention toward the backyard as if heeding some inaudible command to call off the attack. With a low grunt, it turned and raced down the porch steps.
“Grandpa called from the kitchen, asking if I was all right. He moved over to the back door and peered through the screen.
“‘Yeah, I’m fine,’ I said, sitting up. ‘That lizard’s long gone now.’
“I tried to sell him with a broad smile. When he stepped from the doorway, he said not to linger in the heat.