Black Bayou

by Beverly Sims

  She pointed outside to Windy's truck sitting alone in the driveway with two trailers. There was no sign of the little red sports car that Marybeth so loved. It was gone, just like Marybeth!

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  Chapter 9

  They ran down the stairs like a trio of raving lunatics, yelling Marybeth's name, Mrs. Atwater's name, and help over and over. Without knocking, they burst into the parlor to find a sleepy Mrs. Atwater trying to rise from her chair. She held up one hand as if to stop their noise, which it did. “Now, tell me what is so dire that you found it necessary to scream and scamper about like a bunch of monkeys. You, Windy, tell me what is going on?"

  Windy took a deep breath before beginning. “We were watching the storm, and it reminded us of a hurricane we experienced a few years ago. With no radios or television to be found here, we went out to the car and truck to see if we could get some news. Neither one would start, so Marybeth went into the barn to see if she could find anyone to help us. When she did not return, we began searching for her and one of the men. We found the man who had helped us with the luggage, but not the one from the water. Henry, he said was his name, said he would help look for her, so we came back to dry off and get some better shoes and clothes for this weather. That is when Eartha noticed Marybeth's little car was gone."

  Mrs. Atwater smiled. “My, my, all that without taking one breath. Now, let us not get too upset. Maybe she tried the car again and found it would start. She probably decided to go to town for news, because ... you were right, we have no radio or television. I suppose the telephone is out again, as usual, when it rains like this. I am sure she will return in just a little while, and you will all feel so silly for worrying uselessly. In the meantime, I think some tea would be nice, and I will continue the history of my home here at Black Bayou."

  As they returned from the kitchen with the tea tray, a knock on the front door stopped them for a moment. Ellen ran to the door, opening it, saying, “Oh, Marybeth, you gave us quite a—"

  It was not Marybeth, but Henry, hat in hand. “Ma'am, please tell Ms. Atwater dat the car track show it were headed to town, but now the water be so high, the bridge is out. Yur friend and Mrs. Woodward will not be gittin’ home tonight. When da rain stops, ‘n’ the water drop, they be back."

  "I heard, Henry,” Mrs. Atwater answered from the parlor. “Thank you for looking. Now, go home and dry out. Come back later and help me to bed, about seven tonight, I think."

  Their disappointment showed clearly on all three faces. “Now, dears, don't look so unhappy. She is probably already in town, reading her little newspaper and watching the news from the Bayou Country Café. The hotel will surely have a room, so she will be safe. She would not want you to worry, now would she? So, let us have our tea, and I will tell you more about this wonderful place.” Her young guests did not think there was anything wonderful about this place now. Nevertheless, they took their tea and settled back to hear her story. After all, what else could they do?

  * * * *

  "Marcus went to Baton Rouge in search of a suitable wife. He found one in Miss Beatrice Graham Burnside. They were married on Valentine's Day, and nine months later my brother Marcus, Jr. was born. My grandfather was beside himself with delight.” She stopped and pointed her fan at a small daguerreotype of a swaddled baby on one of the bookshelves.

  "That was Marcus, Jr. at just six weeks. He was a puny child and died of a fever before his sixth birthday. In the meantime, my sister Edna was born, followed by David, Edgar, and myself. Then Patience, Julius, and Bertha came later. Actually, eight children in about twelve years. As adults, those of us who reached adulthood, we thought that so many babies in such a short time weakened our mother to the point that when she was with child with her ninth, she died giving birth.

  "Over the years, one thing then another, and now I am the only one still alive. All offspring of my siblings died off too, leaving only me and a couple of nieces and nephews. And my daughter, whom I will tell you about later. So now there are only four of us left, from all the children born here at the Plantation.

  "Now, for supper, can you please makes some sandwiches from the bread Mrs. Woodward baked this morning? And perhaps open a couple jars of her homemade soups. Her bread pudding and custards are in the icebox. Add whatever you like. Now, Windy, if you don't mind, can you help me to my room? I am suddenly so tired. Have Henry bring me a tray and tea when you are ready to dine. I will bid you goodnight. And do not worry about your friend. I am sure she is fine."

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  Chapter 10

  Marybeth was cold, colder than she had ever been. And wet, completely soaked. As she moved, she realized she was tied to something. It was dark and smelled musty and another odor she could not identify. She yelled for help, finally realizing that no one could hear her. Her fingers moved at her side, feeling her naked skin. She closed her eyes tight to keep the tears from running. Lord, please, somebody help me, she prayed.

  She did not know how long it had been, as time had no meaning. Finally, a door opened somewhere, and a voice, muted as if the mouth was covered, spoke. “I see you're awake, pretty girl. Good, because I want you to record a little message for yur mamma ‘n’ daddy. It's all written out for you to say.” He sat a small recorder on her chest, taking time to rub her breasts gently. “Now, can ya see this here paper I am holding?” He pointed a small flashlight at it. She nodded. “Start reading'.” He turned on the recorder and situated the microphone between her breasts, holding them together with just enough pressure to keep the device in place while he rubbed her nipples with his thumbs.

  "Daddy. Mamma. I have not been hurt so far. For my release, they want two million dollars by midnight tomorrow night. If you do not have it then, the price goes up a million the next day. On the morning of the third day, they will kill me. You are to put the money in a waterproof container and drop it off the second span from the east side of the railroad bridge crossing Mobile Bay at midnight. No police or they will send you my body, in pieces.” Marybeth was sobbing by then and could barely talk. “They will phone you at two pm tomorrow, and you are to say only yes or no. Yes, if money will be there. No, if not. Next call will be at the same time the next day, and the amount will be three million. I will call with a new drop place then."

  "That was good, pretty girl. Now I'll give your folks a call and play your little tape for them. When I come back, you and I are going to have some good old Cajun style lovin'. I promise if you do what I tell ya, you not be hurt, and hell, you will probably even like it. All the women do. Think about it, and if there are some special things you like, just tell me. I am eager to please. I have never had a dissatisfied gal yet."

  Again, time did not pass. When the door opened and the man returned to her, he had more for her to record. “Pretty girl, I going to be gone for awhile, but I will feed you when you are done recording the next instruction. Start reading when I start this here recorder."

  "Mamma, Daddy, please. I am still okay, but one of the brutes can't keep his hands off me, and I have no clothes or blanket even. This time, the three million must be in a waterproof bag wrapped to look like garbage. You will put in a trashcan in the parking lot of the pancake house on the eastern shore of Mobile Bay, where the bridges cross. It must be in the third can from the left, not the dumpster, no earlier than three AM. If you look inside before you drop it, you will find something you recognize ... you gave me the ring for my sixteenth birthday."

  "I don't understand, about the ring. What—” She screamed as he severed her finger. It was the last thing on the recording. He put a cup to her lips, dribbling a bit of water down into her mouth. He wrapped a cloth around the stub of her finger and taped it tight to stop the bleeding.

  He left again, but this time set a burning candle on a table against the far wall. He even put a blanket over her freezing body, tucking it tightly around her. “Want you nice and warm when I come back. No fun with a stiff, unless it
my stiff.” He laughed at his own joke and bent to kiss her, forcing his tongue into her mouth.

  When he returned, he was so nice she hoped he was going to let her go. “I'll untie your hands now, so you can eat. Would you like that?” She nodded, still in pain. He untied her, pulling the blanket away.

  He gave her a peach that dripped down her body as she sat eating it like a starved child. Another and another. “I think that be enough for now. Do not want your stomach to send it back up. I always like peaches best. Plenty of meat and juice at the same time. Oranges are good that way too, but peaches are so sweet. Now, honey chile, lay back down like a good little girl."

  He tied her hands again to the sides of the hard surface that she decided might be a door or desk or something. Then he lowered his head and let his tongue lick the juice off her breasts and stomach. “Stop, please, please. Don't do this. You said you wouldn't hurt me. Please, they will give you the money. Please."

  "Well, honey chile, guess I lied. I got three million, and I am going to keep one for myself. Two is more than enough for my partners, since I do all the work while they just sit around drinking beer. Did you really think I was going to let you go after you saw my face? Silly girl!"

  "Please, I haven't seen your face. You can let me go. There is nothing I can tell about you. Please.” Her voice was shrill and pleading through her tears.

  "Unfortunately for you, that really doesn't matter. You are so damn pretty ... if you were ugly, you wouldn't be here. I have to kill you because that is what I like to do. First, we are going to have some fun. You can yell all you want. I like that, too. Any requests? None? Well, I guess I just go ahead and do what I like."

  He turned on a light overhead, a light like in an operating room. She could not see him, had never seen him, only the knife he held in his hand. He lowered his head again, replacing his teeth where his lips and tongue had been. She screamed, but no one heard!

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  Chapter 11

  The young women once again moved outside to the covered verandah. The wind swirled around them, sucking leaves in and out like a giant vacuum cleaner. Branches fell around them and filled the pool. A snake was swimming, and that was enough to drive them back inside with Ellen shaking in fear.

  "Lord, I hate this place,” sighed Windy. “At least at home when the wind blew, it showered you with sand that stung like hell, but at least trees didn't fall on you. And when it is hot, it is hotter than hell, too, but the only wetness you feel is your own sweat, not the very air you breathe. I think I will go out and try my truck again. Better than just sitting here, doing nothing. God, where is Marybeth?"

  The other two watched her as she grabbed the quilt from the chair where Mrs. Atwater had sat. She wrapped it around herself and slammed the front door as she exited to keep the wind from holding it open. Neither woman spoke, just sat staring into the fire. Henry had slipped into the parlor, adding wood and banking it to last the afternoon. The lights began to flicker, then went out completely.

  "Oh shit,” said Eartha. “That's all we need. No electricity! Should come as no surprise, though. Well, at least we have food and water. I think water, unless this old place is on a well, and it probably is, and the pump stops working. Let's go check in the kitchen."

  They started across the foyer when Windy burst back into the house. “It started, hallelujah, and I heard a weather report. This is a damn hurricane on its way in from the Gulf, just as we suspected. Should make landfall sometime in the morning. Warnings say to stay wherever you are and not attempt any of the highways. Like we are on a highway anyway, or even near one! So, what do you say? Should we pile into the old wagon and head out or weather it out here, no pun intended?"

  Eartha spoke first. “I am for getting out while the getting is good. I can't believe I said that ... must be excited. Yes, let's go. We can throw a couple things in a bag and come back for the rest of our things when the damn storm is over."

  She started upstairs when Ellen's voice stopped her. “What about Marybeth? We should wait here in case she returns, don't you think? Are we going to leave that old lady upstairs here on her own? She can't even get up and down from her room without help."

  Windy said, “She has Henry.” Her tone was subdued and hesitant. “He can help her. After all, he has apparently lived here for years. He will know what to do."

  Ellen answered, “Yes, I supposed he has, but do you think he is ... well, all there? He seemed like a child to me.” The others nodded, unhappily. “But maybe we can find that guy who saved us from being gator food. He seemed normal enough. Do you think he works here?"

  "Look, I am already soaked, so I will go out to find Henry and have him get that man to come to the house."

  "No, Windy, I will go,” Eartha spoke. “I think he is more afraid of you white-folk than he is of me. Give me the quilt and go dry off before you catch pneumonia, as they say.” With that, she was gone.

  Windy went up to change her clothes while Ellen investigated the kitchen. No water, no lights, but refrigerator and freezer were full, and she wondered how long the food would last without electricity. She spied an old-fashioned wood stove used for cooking, so at least they could cook ... if someone showed them how. Maybe Henry, bless his heart.

  Windy laughed at Ellen's ignorance of the stove. Her own background was filled with helpful lessons she had learned as a child. She found the wood box, matches, and old newspaper she needed to start a fire. She set the damper on the chimney and laid a fire. All she would have to do was light it off when they were ready.

  She found an old coffee percolator and a cast-iron skillet, along with some heavy pots and pans. The pantry not only held endless jars of food, but flashlights, candles, and full lanterns. They had everything they would need if the power did not come back on.

  The old grandfather clock in the foyer chimed four times. They looked at each other, wondering why Eartha had not returned. “I am going to look for her, and Henry,” announced Windy.

  "No way, girl, we go together or no one goes. First, we check on Mrs. Atwater and get our coats. I think I saw some raingear in an open closet by the back door. Let's get a move on. Thank God it is warm rain and wind."

  The old woman was asleep just as when Windy had put her to bed. They quickly changed into long pants and returned to the kitchen. Each took a flashlight and, as an afterthought, a third that went into a pocket of the rain slickers they found.

  "We hold hands and don't let go for any reason. The barn first, then Henry's cabin, okay?” Windy took Ellen's hand, opened the door, and they ran into the rain. It was coming down in sheets, but in circles as the wind whipped it one way then another. Trees bent in the wind, tossing branches. Something growled to their right in the twilight, but they saw nothing. At the barn, they called for Eartha and did a quick search of what they could see with their flashlights. Once again, holding hands, they headed for the little cabin, making sure they secured the barn door when they left

  A dim light showed through the window. Shutters pounded, and a section of the roof tore free. They knocked frantically on the door until Henry finally peeked out at them. Ellen pushed the door open, and they rushed inside. Windy secured it while Henry just stared at them blankly.

  "Henry.” Ellen faced him, forcing him to look at her. “Henry, has Eartha been here? Eartha? The tall black girl with us? Has she been here today?"

  "No, ma'am. I ain't seed anyone all day, not even Mr. James. Or Mr. Mac. He ain't been here neither. He comes home to Henry when Henry git scared. Henry scared now, but Mr. Mac not come to Henry."

  Windy wandered around the cabin, noting two bedrooms and a bath between. Each room had a closet, a chest, a bed neatly made up. No one was here besides Henry. She found a rain slicker on a coat rack by the door and put it over Henry's shoulders. “Here, Henry, put this on. No reason to be scared anymore. We will take you to the house with us. You will be safe there."

  "No, no, no. Cain't leave. Mr. Mac be frett
ing where I be."

  "Look, Henry, I am writing him a note telling him you are at the house. He will come for you later. Now, is that alright?” Ellen sprawled a few lines on the back of an envelope she found on the table with a pencil tucked in a calendar pocket on the wall.

  Mr. Mac, whoever the hell you are, we have taken Henry to the house. He is scared to death and apparently even more frightened of leaving without you. So get your ass up to the house and rescue him from the terrible women who apparently care more for him than you do. Her anger spilled over on the paper, but she did not care. It seemed to help venting at Mr. Mac.

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  Chapter 12

  Finding no sign of Eartha in the house increased the pall they were under. Henry hid himself away in the kitchen, coming out only when Ellen asked him to check on Mrs. Atwater. He said she was sleeping and hurried back to a chair by the back door, where he waited for Mr. Mac.

  "We should be doing something."

  "What do you suggest, Ellen? I am totally open to suggestions. Do you want to go search the other buildings? We would probably get lost and not be able to find our way back here even. We could ask Henry to go check the chicken coop and get the eggs. Let's at least try to talk to him again."

  When they entered the kitchen, Henry was putting out cups on a tray and filling a pot with water he had heated on the old wood range. He smiled a tentative little bit and pointed to the cups.

  "Yes, Henry,” said Windy. “That would be just wonderful. Come, bring a cup for yourself, too.” He shook his head and kept his eyes down as he brought them a tray of Glenda's baked wonders with their teacups, sugar, and lemons, carefully sliced as he had apparently had taught.