The Golden Talisman

by J. Stefan Jackson

  “I was infuriated, but I couldn’t think of anything to refute his point. I decided right then to show him some hard evidence instead. I was pretty sure that for whatever happened in Mississippi to occur, something significant would’ve had to happen first in our area. I knew I’d find some evidence in the clearing.

  “Jeremy agreed to let me try and prove my theory, still chuckling to himself as we got back in his truck. Unbeknownst to us at the time, that’d be the last time we ever visited our old property. I’m glad I got one last good look at it as we drove away. I believe the image of our decimated yard will remain with me forever.

  “‘Jack, even if that stuff you told me about had been in the ‘Constitution’ or the ‘Herald’, or even in USA Today, you’ve still got to be careful,’ Jeremy told me as we turned onto Baileys Bend Road

  , his brotherly admonishment not yet finished. ‘I’d take all that pseudo-journalistic crap with a grain of salt if I were you.’

  “‘All right,’ I said. ‘But, do you think you can wait and see what we find out before you lecture me some more?’

  “He eyed me like our grandfather so often eyed him, as if wondering whether my remark was smart enough to warrant a solid backhand across my mouth. When he looked away and back to the road, I could tell he was still debating the issue. He continued to do that as we turned onto Black Warrior Road

  . But as soon as we reached the spot where the old bridge once stood, he completely forgot my remarks, as did I.

  “In place of the rickety wooden structure stood a brand new one, and what a new one at that! It was colorful and fancy, and looked like something straight out of Disneyworld. It was wide enough to allow for two vehicles to travel along its length side by side, and it had a chain barrier across its opening with a sign advising all trespassers to keep out. Of course, at the time, we had no idea Malcolm Donohue owned most of the area by then.

  “‘The barrier was enough to keep us from driving the truck across the river, though it didn’t deter us from crossing by foot. After parking the truck near the same spot we left Grandpa’s Jeep four months earlier, we set out across the bridge and reached the clearing a short while later, where even more surprises awaited us.

  “‘Just as the tornado flattened our property, the landscape here was likewise altered. But, rather than by nature or a supernatural force, it was done by other people. Two bulldozers and a backhoe were parked near the middle of the clearing, and the fort remains and rock formation had been reduced to two piles of rubble. The entire area was barren, as the land was recently graded. Only the Indian burial mounds and the surrounding woods that bordered the clearing were spared.

  “I walked toward what was left of the rock formation, with Jeremy limping after me once he realized where I was headed. His knee still bothered him quite a bit back then, as it ended up taking a good year for him to be able to walk pain free. “‘What’s up, Jackie?’ he asked, slightly winded once he caught up with me.

  “‘I’ve got a hunch, based on the so-called ‘pseudo-journalism’ I told you about a short while ago,’ I told him, and then hurried over to the pile of dirt and rock fragments that sat where the hot spring and rock formation once sat. It took me a moment to locate what I was searching for, which was the remains of the two pools from the hot spring. Both were full of dirt and debris. Only the slight gurgle of the ancient tiny brook that’d fed the hot spring remained, leaving a small puddle in the center of the main pool.

  “‘Well??’ he demanded, when he caught up to me again.

  “‘It all fits, Jeremy. It all makes perfect sense now,’ I said. I pointed to the puddle and then briefly explained what it had to do with the tabloid stories. It was obvious the machinery surrounding us couldn’t have shut down the hot spring, despite the damage it’d definitely wrought upon the rock formation itself. Whatever had provided the thermal energy for the pools had definitely left the area, and I was determined to prove to him that it’d moved on to Mississippi.

  “‘I’ll grant you it’s not a good idea to rely on tabloid shit for your news coverage, but it brought me here. Right?’ I remember telling him. ‘What about all of this, man? Where do you think the hot spring went? Don’t you think it’s possible it could’ve gone someplace else? And one just happened to be discovered last month where it didn’t exist before?

  “‘I’d bet Grandpa would think the same thing as me,’ I continued. ‘I’ll even bet the folks who’ve gone to the trouble of tearing this place up know something about this, too. I mean, why would they go and do all of this work to the area now, in the middle of nowhere, after it’s been neglected for so long? Don’t you see the strange connection in all of this? You should at least be open to what I’m thinking after all we’ve been through this year.’

  “I turned away for a moment, allowing my gaze to wander throughout the area. It always fascinated me how sparse the wooded areas in southern Alabama would look in late fall and throughout the winter, as compared to spring and on throughout the summer months. I could see for quite a distance in any direction. But I clearly recalled this very place in summer, when visibility beyond a few feet into the dense foliage was a virtual impossibility. ‘I think you do believe it, too, Jeremy,’ I told him as I turned back to face him. ‘I’d bet money on it that you do.’

  “Jeremy just snickered and shook his head. ‘Well, we might never know for sure on that, Jackie boy.’

  “‘Why not?’

  “‘Well for one thing, I rarely kiss and tell,’ he told me, smiling wryly. ‘But for another, we’ve got company.’ He pointed to a figure in a flannel shirt and hunters cap carrying a rifle with a scope mounted on it, climbing over the Indian burial mounds located just south of the clearing. Once the man reached the bottom of the last mound, he ran toward us.

  “‘We better get the hell out of here!’ urged my brother, limping even more noticeably as we raced out of the clearing. From behind us, we heard a loud report from the rifle the man carried, though we didn’t hear a bullet whistle by. I figure he shot a warning toward the sky. But he didn’t need to worry, for we weren’t planning to stay or even go back there anytime soon. We didn’t slow down until we reached Jeremy’s truck on the other side of the river.

  “We sped out of there and didn’t slow down until we were on Baileys Bend Road

  again, all the while checking our rearview mirrors to see if anyone followed us. We struggled to catch our breath as our run had been damn near a mile, and streams of sweat ran down our faces.

  “‘Whew-w-w!!! That was close!’ I said, relieved the danger was safely behind us.

  “‘I wonder what that fucker was up to back there, anyway?’ said Jeremy. ‘Hunting Season’s over now, isn’t it?’

  “‘I believe it ended last week,’ I replied.

  “‘Perhaps that stuff sitting in the clearing was his, or at least his to guard,’ said Jeremy. ‘I couldn’t see his face too well, but from where we were standing, he looked pretty pissed.’

  “‘We better let Grandpa know about this.’

  “‘Why? It’ll just upset him because he’ll know we were there. I think that’s a bad idea.’

  “‘I think we should tell him regardless, Jeremy,’ I countered, turning toward him to better emphasize my point. ‘He’d be mad just a little, since I’m sure he’d appreciate the information we’d be sharing with him.’

  “‘We’ll see,’ he sighed. ‘I still think it’s a bad idea, but let’s think on it until we get home. Okay?’

  “I agreed to wait, and before long we were heading north on Highway Forty-three. For the next half hour, we rode together in silence. I let my mind drift back to the first time I met Genovene near the river’s edge. If I’d only known then what I know now. The whole mess could’ve been avoided.

  “‘You’re thinking about all of this shit, too, huh?’ Jeremy suddenly asked me, as he watched me stare absently through the passenger-side window.

  “‘Uh-huh. I’m just trying to make sense of it
all,’ I told him.

  “‘Well, don’t kill yourself trying to do that, Jackie,’ he said. ‘I think we may never know what the fuck’s going on with all the bullshit happening around here.’

  “‘I guess you’re right about that,’ I said. ‘So, you don’t think things will ever change, huh? I mean, do you believe we’ll ever get back to having a normal life like everybody else?’ I turned to see his reaction to what I just said. He smiled weakly. The look on his face was one of curious admiration, like he was truly growing to like me despite every effort on his part to see me like he once did. But things had changed significantly since then, as life had changed. More importantly, I’d changed, and had a more detached outlook on life.

  “‘I seriously doubt it, Jackie,’ he said. ‘Sorry I can’t offer you a rainbow and sunshine in regard to our future, but that’s just the way I see it.’

  “‘Yeah, I figured as much,’ I sighed in disappointment. ‘I just hope you’re wrong.’

  “‘Me, too, Jackie—Goddamn it!! Here they come again!!’ Jeremy grimaced into the rearview mirror and stepped harder on the gas. I looked into the passenger-side mirror and craned my neck to confirm the dark sedan that’d snuck onto the highway behind us.

  “No matter how fast or slow we traveled, the mysterious sedan kept pace with us, several car lengths behind us. Jeremy launched into one of his worst profanity-laced tirades. He pushed the throttle even harder, and the truck roared along the highway. Even so, the sedan closed the gap between us to less than a hundred feet. It was as if the car’s occupants wanted to reaffirm to us that we couldn’t escape their surveillance. They stayed with us until we were just a few miles from our uncle and aunt’s home. Then, it steadily fell back until it disappeared from our view.

  “We did end up telling Grandpa about our little adventure, but not until Christmas that year. Since we weren’t planning on ever going back to Carlsdale, he was pretty understanding about it all, readily forgiving us for our broken promises to him.

  “The continual surveillance lasted for the next few years, even after Grandpa purchased a new home for us in Tuscaloosa. It was a lot smaller than our beloved farmhouse, but Grandpa seemed okay with the three-bedroom bungalow located near the southern outskirts of the city. The house itself was another old one, built in the late nineteenth century, and he said it reminded him of the home he and our grandma first purchased in Carlsdale shortly after they got married.

  “I was fortunate to do well in both athletics and my schoolwork at St. Andrews, and elected to attend the University of Alabama on a full-ride baseball scholarship. Meanwhile, Grandpa and I were just as proud of Jeremy for straightening out his life and for his newfound ambitions. I damn near had to pinch myself when he raced through Alabama’s undergraduate program in three years, maintaining a near perfect 4.0 GPA. And, now he’s doing the same thing while finishing work on his master’s degree in ancient studies at the University’s graduate program.

  “I guess that pretty much brings us up to date, Agen—I mean, Peter, “ said Jack. He settled back in his chair again, only this time he felt relieved. He felt a little euphoric as well. The revelation of so many secrets to a complete stranger seemed to lift a burden from his soul.

  “Wow, absolutely incredible story, Jack!” Peter enthused. He stood up and walked over to the coffee machine and threw his empty coffee cup into the nearly full wastebasket next to it. He then came back to the table, where he leaned down and turned the recorder off. “I’ll be right back. I’ve gotta go again,” he advised, motioning his head toward the restroom. “When I return, we’ll wrap things up and get out of here. If that’s all right with you.”

  “Yeah, that’s fine,” said Jack. He watched the agent disappear into the restroom, feeling confident he and Jeremy would return home to Tuscaloosa by the next day at the latest. But he worried about Jeremy’s reaction to the fact he’d broken the vow of silence they shared with their grandfather.

  Soon Peter returned to his seat at the table, armed with a fresh cup of coffee. “Do you want anything more to drink, Jack?” he asked.

  “Nah, I’m fine.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah. But, I’m just about ready for dinner.”

  “Me, too, brother. Me too.” Peter smiled and stirred a small packet of cream into his steaming cup, breaking his routine by adding something to his usual black coffee. “I must say you’ve been very helpful, especially to me personally, Jack. I’m very grateful for the information you’ve provided me,” he said, removing the recorder from the table and placing it back inside the duffel bag. He then folded his hands in front of himself on the table. “As I told you earlier, it’s my turn to provide you with some meaningful information.”

  “Does that mean I get to check out those two books now?” asked Jack.

  “Well, to be honest with you, I’d rather you wait to check them out while we’re driving you guys to the airport,” he said, frowning slightly as he glanced at his wristwatch. “Actually, I’d really like for you and Jeremy to accompany me to Richmond tonight, and then fly home from there tomorrow. In fact, I’d truly appreciate it if you’d do this, because I’d like to introduce you to my boss, Stu Johnson. He might even grant you access to some of the more interesting items locked away in our archives. At least it would give you more time to review these books.”

  “This isn’t the same ‘Stu Johnson’ my grandfather referred to in his story, is it?” Jack’s face immediately became clouded with suspicion while Peter was taken back by the implications in his question. The agent looked as if he never even considered this thought before now, and after a moment spent silently debating this idea he laughed nervously to himself. His radiant smile soon returned, and he eyed Jack in much the same way a loving parent would eye their young child who claimed to have found a boogey man lying in wait under the bed.

  “No, Jack. I’m positive they’re not the same person,” he assured him. “For one thing, it takes a long time to move up in the ranks of any federal agency, and if we do the math involved here, the ‘Stu Johnson’ your grandpa knew would have had to be with us for at least a decade before he encountered him, say what...twenty years ago? Yeah, that would be right, because the report on the sphere was published in 1987.

  “The ‘Stu Johnson’ I work for has been with us for just twenty-two years, and would’ve been a kid practically fresh out of college if he was in fact the FBI agent who set your grandpa off so badly back then. It’s just not possible. Besides, I’d be willing to bet we’ve had many guys with that name who’ve worked for our agency over the years.” Peter straightened himself in his chair, keeping his hands folded together just beyond his cup of coffee, in affect corralling it with his arms. If it weren’t for the sincerity that exuded powerfully from him, Jack would’ve lumped him right then with the life insurance salesmen who used to call on his grandfather in recent years.

  “You’d like the man I work for, I guarantee it,” Peter continued. “He’s a great guy, and is one of the most compassionate men I’ve ever been around. He took me under his wing when I began my career, after my father introduced him to me down in New Orleans. Then, after he was promoted to our Richmond office, he recruited me specifically to assist him with the ‘unusual’ cases we have that deal with the paranormal. He has the same level of passion for this kind of thing I have, and was the one who told me you and your brother were here. In fact, he arranged for this very interview. I’m sure you’ll find him to be a powerful ally for you and your family.”

  Jack wasn’t sure what to think of this information on Stu Johnson. On the one hand, he trusted Peter’s sincerity, knowing the agent believed in what he was telling him. But on the other hand, he wasn’t so sure the ‘Stu Johnson’ who kept his grandfather prisoner in his own house for three months nearly twenty years ago was in fact a different man. Peter’s argument that his boss would’ve been too young for such an assignment didn’t convince Jack in the least. The strongest evidence for this was
sitting across the table in the person of Peter himself. Jack knew the man was at most a few years older than he, and had been handed a fairly high-profile investigation. Even the senior agents present earlier deferred to the much younger agent from their Richmond office the very instant he entered the interrogation room.

  Jack’s stomach began to rumble loudly, so he decided the issue wasn’t worth worrying about. “Perhaps you’re right,” he said. “As far as the trip to Richmond is concerned, I’d like to do that. I’ll need to check with Jeremy first to make sure it’s okay with him.”

  “That’s fine. I certainly understand,” said Peter. “I’ll get the ball rolling to get you both out of here shortly, after I share a few things with you.” He leaned in closer, just enough to show that what he was about to tell him was quite important. “I’ll start with a curious item or two, and then I’ll wrap it up with some current events I want you to keep in mind as you return home. First, I’ve got another interesting tidbit concerning the tool shed. Since you haven’t been back to Carlsdale lately, I doubt you know about this.

  “Malcolm Donohue apparently felt it was an eyesore, though surely he knew something of its strange history when he bought your place. My guess is he didn’t know near as much as we do, since he tried to move it. The structure is anchored in bedrock, Jack, which you might not be aware of. After considerable effort and expense, Mr. Donohue obtained the means to remove it from the property. No sooner than his people dug it up, loaded it onto a flatbed truck, and then hauled it away, the mysterious structure somehow made it back to the exact spot where it had rested before.”