(I wonder what channel the First is on)
He held an opened book in his left hand that he had “borrowed” from a motel and was screaming about End of Days. William stretched to change the channel when the preacher suddenly reached his hand from the screen and tried to grab his. The preacher’s wide grin turned dark, revealing a set of pearly fangs, long and sharp. A long, pointed tongue rolled from his mouth and flicked at the air. His thick glasses were mysteriously gone, revealing eyes that were small and fiery red. William jumped back into bed, curling into the corner and pulling the sheets up to his chin in a vain attempt to save himself,
I’m outside William, come out and play.
William’s fright had awoken Charlie who was curled up at the foot of the bed. Charlie jumped up, wildly barking at the screen (Charlie be quiet, you’re going to wake the witch). The preacher abruptly returned to normal (if that was normal?), now speaking softly and telling his audience of one where he could send the much-needed donations.
(Just tired, I imagined it)
Finally, around three, William’s eyes became heavy, and he drifted off to the land of ghouls, goblins, and monsters. It was a good thing that he rarely recalled anything he dreamt.
That book of his would become his bible, a guide that would explain all the strange things he had been witnessing around the village. He would convince Lilly that they had to discover who the real Sky Woman was. Their adventure would begin…
CHAPTER 6
BANGER
Thou shalt not be afraid for the terror by night; nor for the arrow that flieth by day; Nor for the pestilence that walketh in darkness; nor for the destruction that wasteth at noonday.
-Psalm 91:5
Against Bobby’s wishes (and his better judgment), his younger brother Joey was firmly positioned behind the wheel. The redder than red BMW M4 was their pride and joy. Bobby usually got his wishes; he was the older and certainly the more level-headed. Bobby had gotten through high school with little problem and had completed one year at Montclair State. Joey on the other hand spent most of his leisure time either getting high or spending countless hours pumping iron and admiring himself in the mirror at Louie’s Hardcore Gym.
The sun would be setting soon and although the country road was two ways, it was barely wide enough for one car. While Joey raced towards the cemetery, Bobby gazed out the window, his mind wandered. The image of Joey and himself as kids was now dulled from the passing years. As a teenager Bobby didn’t just suppress his memories, he dowsed them with gasoline and set them ablaze. Their father had left their mother while both sons had just begun grammar school. With no masculine protector, the children fell victim to an adult, but this was a close relative. Upon their father’s abandonment, their father’s brother stepped in and became the male in their lives. He had been tasked to watch his nephews while their mother slaved away in a sewing factory in downtown Newark. He was a mean-spirited bastard who would slap the two boys around for little or no reason when he got his hands on a bottle of Crown Royal. At seven the sexual abuse began against Bobby. At such a tender age, he didn’t understand at the time that sex was such a big thing for adult men. He thought, it’s sad to think, at that age I quickly came to recognize that there was value between my legs. The abuse continued for three years, that was until the uncle was arrested for abusing the next-door neighbor’s six-year-old. Upon making bail, the little boy’s father shot the uncle dead. Throughout all the finger pointing and accusations that occurred after the discovery of such unbridled depravity, no one ever thought to check with Bobby or little Joey.
As the car charged down the country road, the way became narrower; thick stands of trees had begun to encapsulate the road. Driving through these narrowing masses of elms, pines, and maples gave this young group of adventure seekers a feeling of being closed in, with no way of turning back. Nature’s slow reclaiming of the man-made path through the sullen forest seemed to be choking the warm rays of the sun, preventing them from ever reaching the earth below. Looking out the windows, the countryside became noticeably cut and divided by a series of ancient knee-high stone walls that traversed the countryside. They traced the boundaries of lives lived long ago, when these forests were the pastures and fields of the valley’s ancestors. The earth was thick with last year’s foliage. A winding stream was only a few yards from the road; it came in and out of sight as it meandered along with every twist and turn of the road. At times this babbling brook narrowed to a bare trickle, as Bobby strained his eyes, he caught sight of a lone deer drinking from the stream, “Hey! There’s one!”
“What…Where?” Joey took his eyes off the road for a split-second, just enough time to cause the car to suddenly careen off the road. Slamming on the brakes, the wheels of the scarlet BMW churned and spewed the slick leaves. Bobby grabbed at the wheel as the car veered off, canting forward at a twenty-degree angle, leaving the rear wheels barely off the ground.
“Damn it, you were supposed to keep your eyes on the road; you almost killed us all over a freaking deer.” Bobby was furious, “Not for nothing, you drive like freaken Ray Charles.”
Joey became silent and began to pout.
Bobby got out of the car and contemplated a solution; he ordered Joey and the girls to go to the front bumper and push while Bobby pumped the gas. As Joey leaned against the car he was shoved from behind, “Hey, what the hell.” He looked around, but no one was standing behind him. He shrugged it off (Just my damn imagination). After a few minutes of rocking back and forth, the car suddenly gripped the earth and lurched out of the forest, stopping a mere inch or two from careening off the opposite side of the road.
(Whew…that was a close one)
They all safely jumped back in and against his better judgment, Bobby allowed Joey to continue on. Seconds later their eyes gazed upon a tree that had a large white wooden cross along with an altar of plastic flowers, Bobby turned to Joey, “You see, that could have been us.”
As they got closer to Pinewoods, Bobby noticed an unusual amount of roadkill in all stages of decay, how could so few cars be killing all these animals?
They hid their car from sight by tucking it into a tall stand of pines that surrounded the cemetery. The two girls were utterly wasted; the boys had to put their arms under them to support them as they made their way to the front gate. The girls kept giggling incessantly. The four disregarded the loud jeers from a near blue jay sounding his warning just as the last rays of the sun disappeared beneath a dark line of trees. Four immense greyish granite pillars marked the entrance to the graveyard. Sure enough, the gates were secured by chains and padlocks. Dotting the perimeter of the graveyard were large white signs that blatantly notified all; No Trespassing! Ignoring the placards, and not knowing that sections of the fence off in the distance had conveniently fallen over, they opted to jump over. Barbara was incredulous, “Are you freakin crazy, me and Gina are not doing that!”
Joey bellowed back, “Well then the two of you go back to the car and wait for us?”
Gina wanted to go to the motel, “How long will that be?”
“We’re going to spend the night, so you two fucking bohacks better snuggle up and we’ll see you in the morning.”
“Yeah, that’s if you two homos last that long.”
Joey was itching to begin the adventure. He jumped up, grabbing at the pointy spikes at the top of the fence. Gina quipped; “I hope you get poked in the ass.” He hoisted himself up, gingerly swinging his left foot over, and the rest of his body followed. As the girls stumbled back to the safety of the car, Bobby followed suit. They pulled out flashlights from their backpacks and began to inch their way towards the headless angel. The luminous white beams from their flashlights swung recklessly through the maze of looming monuments, fallen headstones and the surrounding primeval forest. Th
ere were nasty brambles and treacherous deadfalls. Sections of the graveyard were carpeted with fallen pine needles, softening their steps. The night wind hissed through the trees, off in the distance some small animal crashed off through the underbrush. Joey was frightened to death; his legs seemed to be frozen in place. Then from behind he was shoved, “Now come-on Bobby.”
“What?”
“You pushed me again.”
“Are you fucking nuts, I never touched you.”
There was no shrugging this off any longer. Fear began to torture his guts, churning his stomach in tense cramps. This time it was Bobby who pushed him, “Will you come-one already.”
As they got deeper, things became spookily quiet. It seemed to get ten degrees colder and gloomier still. Their glaring lights disturbed the eerie silence. The stillness of the crisp night air was pierced with the clicking and rattling of cicadas. Off in the distance they could just make out what they thought at first were birds flying around, “Joey, come to think of it, birds don’t fly at night… Holy shit, those are freakin bats.”
“Bats!” He pulled his shirt over his neck, “Are they vampire bats?”
“Joey, are you fucking retarded? Ain’t no vampire bats around here!” With Bobby’s colorful assurances, the two proceeded.
An online site named Spooks, Ghosts & Goblins had provided them with the section, row and grave where the infamous headless angel rested. The site said that at dusk she supposedly bled. The two searched on the back of each headstone; they were all so old that the numbers were worn away and for the most part illegible. “Bobby, how are we going to find it? I can’t see a single number!”
“Just keep looking, and whatever you do, keep your damn voice down. You know we’re not supposed to be in here.”
They wouldn’t admit it, but they were frightened; the short hairs on the back of Bobby’s neck began to prickle. They kept so closely together; their butts were rubbing up against each other. Joey was startled by an ancient oak that seemed entirely charred to the core. The massive tree had been broken in half as though it was a mere toothpick, its top half hung down perilously just above their heads, its scorched top limbs seemingly reaching for the earth.
“Bobby what the hell happened to that tree?”
“Lightening. Sometimes when it hits a tree, the electricity goes straight into the ground and burns it from the ground up.” Joey was mesmerized, rubbing the trunk as though he could feel its pain. His hands blackened, rubbing them against his pants, “Man that’s some shit!” Bobby just shook his head in disbelief (my brother really has half-a-brain).
Bobby went ahead, straining to see what lie just off in the inky darkness. Then out of the gloom it materialized, it was a massive marble mausoleum that loomed off in the distance. The staining of its outer stone structure over the decades came to have an unearthly resemblance to human veins; its eerie effect on the marble echoed a forewarning to all near and far. Its stained-glass windows had been shattered, revealing the tombs bowels. Bobby tapped his brother and pointed,
(Follow me stupid)
Joey trailed his older brother’s lead. As they neared, they could see strange shadows darting about that were being cast inside by their lights. Bobby reached the entrance and gingerly poked his head in.
(Coast is clear, thank God, no spooks or zombies)
He straightened up and bravely ventured in. Stone vaults, their lids discarded about, where coffins were once held, stood empty, eternally awaiting the arrival of the next corpse. There were more than he had time to count. Their insides had slippery green residue over much of the white stone.
“Hey, let’s sleep in these.” Before Bobby could warn him, Joey jumped in and slipped on the slimy beryl coating causing his torso to upend itself up in the air and cracking the back of his head with a loud thud on the bottom of the vault.
(The last thing I’m going to do is let him know how much this really hurts)
Joey was the type of guy who felt he could peel coconuts with his teeth, so in a vain attempt to hide his foolishness, he exclaimed, “I’m ok, it’s really cool inside here.” Meanwhile, his left hand soothed the golf ball that was already forming on the base of his skull. His right hand brushed the side the vault, it was slick and frigid. A knifing chill caused his back to rigidly arch, appearing as though the iciness of his tomb had impaled his muscular frame.
“Fuck that Joey, I’m not sleeping in one of those.”
Not wanting to show the unpleasantness of being in the vault, (and never one to give in) he challenged his brother, “Come-on, live a little. What the hell did we come for?” Bobby instead slid down, wedging his body into a corner, “Live a little? You must be high.” Comfortably sitting on the floor; he strategically faced the entrance of the mausoleum. Adjacent to him, painted on the inside wall was an array of odd symbols. He shined his light on them, they were blood-like red in color.
(Man, that’s some odd graffiti) he thought to himself. (Who the hell would come into a crypt to paint this?) He pulled out a six pack which prompted his brother to leap from the vault and join him. Beer was like honey to bees for Joey. As they sucked down the first chilled brew, Joey as infantile as always, propped the flashlight just under his chin, “Ooohhh…Ooohhh.”
“Joey will you put a lid on it.” Between the weed and the liquor, the brothers were too tired to continue their exploration of the graveyard. They’d look for the headless angel in the morning.
As the two snuggled in for the night in their mausoleum, the girls buried themselves in thick comforters in the backseat of the car and all dozed off. Some twenty minutes or so later, a loud banging at the window, with a force nearly breaking the glass, scared the living daylights out of the girls. A bright light blinded them as they strained their eyes to see who the perpetrator was. From outside they could hear a gruff, Goidelic sounding accent which relieved them,
(Jesus; at least it was not a ghost!)
“Begosh and begorrah! Who told you two wans that you could park here? Tis private property. I’d suppose that you lassies were out on the lash. A wee bit o’ nonsense, move this car before I summon the sheriff.” The gruff voice belonged to none other than the caretaker of Pinewoods; Banger Doyle. “Who else is with you two lassies?” Barbara was about to answer him when Gina interrupted, “It’s just us two.”
Banger had his doubts, “Bollocks! Go on now and move the damn car. Tis a motel on the edge of town; go there if you’re looking for a night’s sleep.”
Without any hesitation, Gina jumped in the driver’s seat (get while the gettins good), gave Banger a faint smile and winked as she drove off. She couldn’t help herself; she’d even flirt with the creepy statue of Seward Johnson that graced the center of Livingston. The two wondered aloud how in the hell they were going to meet-up with their boyfriends in the morning.
. . .
Just before turning in for the night, our two valiant ghost hunters polished off their twentieth beer. Joey’s eyes were getting heavy. A long frightening screech made them both leap from their chilly seats. It was only a barn owl, but although they wouldn’t admit to each other, they were both petrified. “Hey Bobby, this is like some Creature Feature shit.”
“Oh yeah, Creature from the Black Lagoon crap.”
Even the cool-headed Bobby was feeling very uneasy, the cold was getting the best of him. It was a sickening chill; its icy little curls of fingers ran up and down his spine. A thick musty stench had begun to trouble him; it was a soggy foul odor that resembled dank, moldy leaves. He reached for the closest vault and peered inside; I wonder how many corpses hung out in here over the years?
Their day-long vices had finally gotten the better of Joey; he was snoring to beat the banshees. Bobby’s eyes were again drawn to
the odd symbols on the wall; they surely were Indian symbols.
A different odor now caught his attention. It seemed to be invading the crypt through the door openings and broken windows; it was a fetid, rank and pungent smell mixed with a tinge of sickening sweetness. It was so bad; Bobby covered his face by lifting his shirt. Joey still half asleep rolled over and slapped Bobby on his back, “Will you stop farting.” Bobby turned his flashlight towards the entrance and was startled by the sudden appearance of a thick bluish-white mist; it was only a few yards away and closing in. During the time the two had huddled together in the crypt, the mist had quietly surrounded the entire structure; Bobby stood and peered out from one of the busted windows. The mist was frightfully cold, it felt angered and bitter. It had caused the local dogs off in the distance to howl. A humongous bat suddenly veered from within the fog and narrowly missed Bobby’s face; it scared the daylights out of him.
(He had to hold himself from pissing in his pants)
Then off in the distance, there was the faintest hint of existence, an audible echo of a baby sobbing in the distance. Bewildered, he thought to himself, how close could the nearest house be? The child’s crying began to sneak ever closer, surely it was someone carrying a child while taking a stroll, but through the graveyard? He pointed the light in the direction of the weeping; his light had begun to falter, “Didn’t you put fresh batteries in these flashlights?” Joey just shrugged his shoulders (he blames me for every damn thing). After thirty minutes or so, the mist had entirely engulfed the crypt, but oddly enough, it did not dare enter the tomb itself. Bobby reached down and poked his brother; nothing. Joey was now in one of those deep sleeps that God himself couldn’t wake (he’s my brother, and I love him, but how could this guy sleep at a time like this). Bobby opted for his foot, kicking his brother (this is worse than last year when he fell asleep at Yankee stadium when Torreyes had the walk-off hit in the 10th). Joey weakly waved his hand in the air, “Hey, what the fuck, I was sleeping.”
A Wistful Tale of Gods, Men and Monsters Page 5