Meadowview Acres

by Donna Cain

  As Shasta delved deeper into his background, she found that he had never married and had no children or family to speak of. After a brief interview in August of nineteen sixty-eight, the paper trail ended. The last interview was conducted by the school newspaper at State College. Shasta tried in vain to find that online, but it wasn’t available.

  While Shasta was busy, Bug decided to research the shipping vessel that had brought him back to Glovercroft. She started with the ship’s name Tritoria and went from there. A cargo ship based out of Tahiti, it was no longer in commission. It had mainly transported fruit and occasionally cloth and other locally made materials. It wasn’t a passenger ship, but it looked like the ship had made an exception in Professor Monroe’s case. After much digging, Bug found that the ship, indeed, had reported an alarming case of seventeen crew members who had contracted a serious virus and perished on a trip to the states in nineteen sixty-eight. There wasn’t much other information aside from the list of the dead crewmen. There was no elaboration on the symptoms or cause of each man’s death.

  “Here we go,” Bug heard Shasta say quietly. She rolled her chair over to where Shasta sat and started to read over the girl’s shoulder.

  Shasta had found an excerpt from one of the Professor’s books entitled, The Legend of The Varuupian Tribe and It’s Ties to Our Culture. There were only a few sentences from the excerpt, but they brought chills to Bug as she read them.

  “While curses this strong have existed in other cultures, the Curse of the Varuupian Tribe is remarkable in its ability to harm not just by touch, but by proximity. I have heard directly from a tribe member that he had witnessed the curse claim a victim simply by walking past the artifact. Also, once the curse has touched a victim, very rarely can the effects be negated.”

  The girls looked at each other with wide, fearful eyes. “What is this? An artifact? What does that even mean? And how do we know what to look for?” Shasta’s mind was reeling. She understood and accepted the fact that something strange had been happening. But until then she hadn’t really let herself believe how bad it could be.

  Bug was remembering the look on Hansen’s face after he had reached into Hunter’s backpack. She knew exactly what the artifact was and exactly where to find it. Something else seemed more important to her at that moment, however.

  “I know what it is, Shasta. Hunter has it. Remember I told you about the backpack and Hansen grabbing it off of Hunter’s back? Remember what I told you was inside?”

  “That’s right,” Shasta said wonderingly. “The rock, or piece of rock that Hansen took out of the pack before he started choking.”

  “Yeah, but here’s the thing. We know what it is, and we know Hunter and Eli have it. That’s good, but what do we do with it? How do we get rid of it so that it doesn’t hurt anyone else?”

  Shasta, quietly pondering the question, sat for a moment. They couldn’t just take it back to the woods and bury it again. It would eventually be dug up by someone else. How could they dispose of it once and for all? “We need Professor Monroe,” Shasta said.

  Bug nodded her head and scooted her chair back to her computer. In less than a couple of minutes, she had found his last known address by going through the university’s old files. The address was in Shale.

  Shasta looked at the address and then back at Bug. “I’m almost afraid to check this out,” she said. “You know if he’s still alive we have to go talk to him, right?”

  Bug nodded her head and felt the anticipation grow. They went to the white pages online and typed in the address. There he was, 141 Wickwood Drive, Shale.

  The sun had gone below the tree line and Shasta knew that both of their parents would be wondering where they were. She told Bug to call her dad and tell him that they were on the way home, so he wouldn’t worry. They would go tomorrow, Shasta said, and then they would go straight to Hunter and Eli and tell them what they had learned.

  Turning out the lights in the Research Room and locking the door behind them, both of the girls were quiet, lost in thought. What had started out as mild curiosity had grown into a life-threatening event in a matter of days. They wondered if they could stop the town from enduring any more heartache. For the first time in her little life, Bug was sorry that she was so smart. She thought how nice it would be to be unaware of their situation.

  The drive home was subdued – no radio, no singing. Finally, Bug broke the silence and asked, “Shasta? What should I tell my folks that we’re doing tomorrow?”

  Shasta thought of the drive to Shale and wondered what they would find on the other end. All they could hope for was some answers.

  “Tell them the truth, Buggie. We’re doing some research on a project.”

  CHAPTER 21

  Professor Preston Monroe

  After days of beautiful, warm sunshine, Shasta awoke to the sound of rain pattering at her window. As the sleepy fog slowly evaporated from her mind, her thoughts turned to the events of the day. She would shower and dress, then pick up Bug. After that, who knew? It would all depend on what Professor Monroe had to say.

  She did know that at some point today, she and Bug would have to talk to Hunter and Eli. Shasta decided to text Hunter later and tell him that they needed a powwow this afternoon. He would be curious, but he would agree. She didn’t know what frame of mind Eli would be in after burying his sister just yesterday morning. Shasta had trouble believing that had only been yesterday. So much had happened since.

  Shasta, fueled by the importance of her mission, jumped from her bed and gathered up a pair of jeans and a hoodie. It looked cold outside. She could hear her parents talking in another part of the house. She was glad that she had the weekend off from the Hot Dog Hut. They wouldn’t question her plans with Bug. That part, at least, was normal. Shasta planned to tell her parents everything as soon as she and Bug finished with the boys. She wanted to be armed with all of the facts first.

  Showered and dressed, she pulled her thick, auburn hair into a ponytail and unhooked her phone from its charger. She had been with Darren just yesterday before she and Bug had gone to the newspaper, but she missed him already. She texted him, “Morning! Got to hang with Buggie for a while today, but can I see you tonight?” While she waited for a reply from Darren, she looked up Hunter’s number and shot off another quick text. This one read, “Hey, It’s Shas. Can Bug and I talk to u and Eli 2day? 4ish?”

  A ping alerted her that she had an incoming text and she smiled as she read Darren’s reply. “Can’t wait. See you then.”

  Not yet hearing from Hunter, she dropped her phone into her bag and left her room.

  Her folks were just leaving for work at the Hut, so she kissed them both goodbye and told them vaguely about doing some research with Bug. Grabbing a breakfast bar from the pantry, she locked up and headed for the Ranger. She noticed that her tank was close to empty. They would need to stop at the Gas N Go on the way out of town.

  Pulling into Bug’s driveway, she noticed the girl’s round face peering out of the front window. She had probably been there over an hour waiting for Shasta. Shasta knew that Bug was a little anxious about this whole thing, but so was she.

  Bug hopped into the passenger side and greeted Shasta with a toothy smile. “I’m ready,” she said. “I thought about this a lot last night, and I think this is a good thing. Knowledge is power. We know what we’re working with here, now we just need help with the problem solving.” She paused and said, “And I’m telling my dad the whole thing when we get back. He’s a smart man who’ll be able to help.”

  “I love the positivity, Bug,” Shasta replied with a smile. “Let’s keep that up. And I agree that you should tell your dad, but let’s talk to Hunter first and get more info.”

  They backed out of the driveway and headed west on Route 68 for the Gas N Go. Shasta filled the tank while Bug got some snacks inside the quick mart. Shale was about an hour’s drive, on the other side of Glovercroft. Shasta just hoped they would be able to see the professor
when they got there. She had toyed with the idea of calling first, but she thought the professor might tell them not to come. The element of surprise was on their side.

  The radio was on and the windshield wipers made a little squeak with every swipe. The girls chatted about other things to lighten their anxiety. Shasta talked about Darren, of course, and Bug told Shasta all about a documentary she had just watched on the changing weather patterns and what could be the cause.

  Before they knew it, they had hit the city limits of Shale. Shasta pulled to the side of the road and entered the address into her GPS. The automated voice told her to proceed ahead for eight point six miles and turn left on Marion Street.

  The guided system easily found the way, and they were at their destination within fifteen minutes. Shasta parked in front of 141 Wickwood and turned off the engine. The house was modest and well kept. The lawn was trimmed as were the bushes anchoring the walkway to the front door.

  Shasta looked at Bug and said, “If you want me to go by myself, I will.”

  “No way,” said Bug as she opened her door and hopped out onto the curb. “Let’s go see what he says.”

  Shasta popped her hoodie up to guard against the rain and followed Bug up the walkway to the front door. Bug had already rung the bell by the time Shasta joined her on the stoop.

  The door opened to reveal a muscular looking woman in a nurse’s uniform. She had a very kind face, but her voice was lower than a typical woman’s register.

  “Hello, how can I help you?” The woman smiled at the girls.

  “Um, hi,” Shasta began. “Um, we would like to see Professor Preston Monroe, please.”

  The nurse looked puzzled and asked, “Is the professor expecting you?”

  “Well, no,” Shasta replied. “But we’re students over in Hallston and we’ve come to ask him some questions about his book.”

  “I see.” The nurse seemed to think for a moment and said, “Why don’t you come in out of the rain and wait here. I’ll go see if he’s up to having any visitors today.”

  She motioned the girls in and closed the door after them. Shasta and Bug stayed right by the door, not wanting to intrude any further. They were both feeling anxious.

  The nurse gave them a little smile before walking down the hall and disappearing through another doorway.

  The girls could hear muffled speech coming from that direction and continued to wait quietly. Shasta could hear little drops of rain falling off of Bug’s slick yellow raincoat and hitting the wood floor. The nurse returned momentarily and held her arms out. “Let me have that wet coat, Dear. The professor said he has a few minutes to talk to you.”

  Bug took off her slicker and handed it to the nurse who then hung it on a peg near the door. Shasta slipped out of her rain clogs, and both girls followed the nurse back down the same hallway. Stopping in front of the doorway, she held her arm out directing the girls to go through. Shasta went in first, followed by Bug.

  The room was decorated in dark wood finishes. Bookshelves lined one whole wall. There were soft, comfy chairs and a sofa under a painting of a dense tropical forest. The professor sat in a green leather chair facing the only window in the room. He didn’t get up to greet them when they walked into the room.

  Shasta spoke first, “Um, hi Professor Monroe. My name is Shasta Port and this is my friend Bug Hamilton. We were wondering if you could answer some questions about your book.”

  He turned his head slowly toward her as she spoke, never looking at her directly. “Bug. Let’s hope that’s a nickname. To which book are you referring, Ms. Port?”

  Shasta cleared her throat. She hadn’t known what to expect, but for some reason she hadn’t expected him to be anything other than friendly. She pushed forward and said, “The Legend of The Varuupian Tribe and It’s Ties to Our Culture.”

  The Professor’s jaw tightened for a second before he said, “I’m afraid that book is out of print. I can’t help you. You can show yourselves out.” He looked back out the window.

  Shasta looked down at Bug with a defeated expression. Bug decided to give it a try.

  “Yes, it is a nickname. My birth name is Mary Ellen Hamilton and I go by Bug because Mary Ellen is super boring. I’m twelve years old, almost thirteen. Shasta and I came to talk to you about your book because our friends have died in Hallston. They died because someone dug up the box that you put the cursed thing in. We need to find out what we’re supposed to do to get rid of it before anyone else dies. We came to you because we know you’re the only one who can tell us what to do to get out of this super bad situation. I’m sorry if that bothers you, but we need information. Knowledge is power.”

  The moment Bug had mentioned the box Professor Monroe’s mouth had opened in shock. Then he bowed his head and slowly shook it from side to side. Bug thought he was crying. She was about to apologize again when he said, “No. I had prayed that this would never happen. How? How did it get discovered?”

  Shasta moved slowly forward into the room as she spoke. “Our friends were in the woods around a construction site. A developer is building a new subdivision and some bulldozers had been clearing the site. One of the bulldozers unearthed the box. The man driving that rig died from a brain hemorrhage. Or else, that’s what they’re calling it. Anyway, our friends had found the box and brought it home. We don’t know the details, but one of the guy’s sister died, and then Bug here watched another boy on the street choke to death while he was holding the rock.”

  “Holding the rock!” The professor was stunned. “What do you mean “holding the rock”? No one should ever be in contact with the artifact! Where is it now?” As upset as he was, not once did he rise out of his chair or look at them directly. His hands gripped the armrests of his chair.

  “We know our friends still have it, but we’re not sure what their plan is. They know that there’s something about it, but we don’t think they know the full story. That’s why we’re here. As soon as you tell us what we can do, we’re going straight over to see them.”

  The professor seemed to weaken. He motioned them over to the sofa under the lush painting. “Have a seat, please. I’m going to tell you everything I know from the beginning. It may take a while. Then maybe you can help solve this catastrophe that I created.”

  Bug and Shasta settled in on the comfy couch and listened to the professor recall how it had begun.

  He had been teaching his Histories, Legends and Myths class at the college when he had come across a book about a tiny island called Shaali and a tribe of people who inhabited that island. They were known as the Varuupi. The Varuupi had one of the most intricate practices of dark magic and curses that he had ever encountered. One legend in particular had impressed him so much that he had decided to take a few years off from teaching and go to the island in search of material for a book.

  Getting to Tahiti was easy. Going from Tahiti to a smaller island called Banno was a little more difficult, but manageable. Getting from Banno to Shaali proved to be almost impossible. The natives who chartered planes or boats between the islands wouldn’t touch the island of Shaali. They believed the island itself to be cursed. Finally, Monroe had found one captain who would take him. It helped that the captain was not a native, and Monroe had plenty of cash to persuade him. They set off the next day.

  Monroe had asked the captain to wait for six hours, so he could explore the tiny island and take pictures. The captain had agreed, and Monroe had set off. There was nothing remarkable at first, just overgrown vegetation and a few odd animals in the trees, but then he had come across what looked to be the site of an ancient people. He could still make out the dwellings arranged in a circle around a large pit that could only have been for fire. On the outskirts of the settlement was a graveyard. Rocks had been placed in rectangles, row upon row. In the middle of each rectangle was a different totem. Some carved from wood; some etched in stone. Monroe had felt a little uneasy being alone there bearing witness to an extinct people. He was getting rea
dy to leave, when he saw what he had been looking for all along. A tomb made of a large slab of rock was at the very end of the gravesite.

  Professor Monroe took hundreds of pictures chronicling every detail of the site and the dwellings. When he was leaving, he returned to the tomb. A small chunk of the slab had broken off and lay on the ground beside the tomb. Professor Monroe picked it up and stowed it away in his backpack. He remembered feeling as if the earth had shifted a little under his feet.

  “I chalked it up to not eating and the intense heat of the island. That wasn’t what it turned out to be.”

  The girls had been breathlessly listening to his story. They knew what was to come. They had seen a picture of this man in nineteen sixty-eight, before he left for the island. The man sitting before them was a shell. His white cotton shirt was barely concealing the bony frame underneath. His hair was snow white and sparse. He was in his mid-seventies but looked much older. They listened as he continued.

  He took a big breath and said, “I made it back to the boat after only four hours. The captain was glad to see me but acting very strangely. Just minutes after we set off for Banno, it happened. The captain started screaming. He was clawing at his eyes and screaming in some language I didn’t understand. I didn’t know what to do to help. I tried to talk to him, to comfort him in some way. I kept asking what I could do, but he just kept speaking in that same strange language. I was looking for a rope. I thought, if I could restrain him, I could get us back to Banno and get help there. I had just found the rope and turned back to him when I heard the splash. I was frantic. I looked over the side of the boat and couldn’t see him. He wasn’t anywhere. Looking for him, I went from side to side, but he just wasn’t there. Not knowing what to do, I cut the boat’s engine. I just sat there waiting for him, looking for him. But there was nothing. He never resurfaced. Finally, about three hours later it was getting dark. I knew I’d never find my way back to Banno in the dark, so I started the boat and followed the coordinates back. It was dark when I made it to port. I shored up the vessel and left the keys in the engine. I was exhausted, but I was able to find a native to try to explain what had happened. I thought someone should know. I recognized the guy from that morning; he had helped us to shove off. I remember walking toward him, and his expression changed as I got closer. I was about to speak to him when he started to yell. I recognized the word he was yelling at me. It was the native word for “Demon”. He ran away from me. I barely made it back to my room and collapsed on the bed. The next morning, when I woke and went into the bathroom, I saw myself in the reflection. My hair had turned completely white. I didn’t recognize myself.”