Southern House

by Mark Deloy

  There was a semi-rotted log nearby and I sat down, enjoying Mother Nature and the smell of the fresh morning air. The wind picked up a little, blowing straight at me from across the clearings. Then I heard something behind me near the springs, something large crashing through the detritus on the forest floor and cracking branches. I slowly turned around and slid off from the log, using it for cover and peeking over it. A large bobcat came out from behind a tree and made its way to the spring. It was cautious and may have picked up my scent, but it hadn’t seen me, or it would have been running in the opposite direction. Its bright eyes searched the area and its black tipped ears twitched. It raised its nose to the air and sniffed before moving along. Then it slid behind another tree and pounced on something, probably a squirrel or a chipmunk.

  All of a sudden something even larger than the bobcat, but all black, hit the cat hard. I hadn’t seen or heard it coming. It moved so fast I couldn’t even see what it was. My first guess was a wolf. I saw it moved on four legs and was low to the ground. As it hit the bobcat, the cat howled loudly once and there was a deep growling I assumed came from the other creature. They tumbled over the edge of the rise and were out of sight. I heard the creature snarling and growling, and the vicious sound of bones snapping. I chastised myself for not bringing the shotgun, or at least one of the pistols.

  I reasoned whatever had attacked the bobcat would be busy now, so I carefully got up and started walking quickly back toward the house, looking over my shoulder after every few steps. Nothing pursued me, and I was soon into the second field. My heart was hammering, and I wondered if I could make it to the house on a run if that thing came out of the woods in pursuit.

  When I reached the house, the first thing I did was load the 12 gauge and lock all the doors, as if some animal could turn a doorknob. I decided, whenever I went outside, I’d go armed. There were obviously dangerous animals nearby. The gun cemented my place at the top of the food chain, and I intended to keep it that way.

  After I’d calmed down a bit, and stopped looking out the back windows, I called the reverend to talk about the tent rental and when the delivery would be.

  “Are you alright, Hickory?” he asked. “You sound winded.”

  “Yes, I’m alright. I just had a scare in the woods.”

  “Really? What did you see?” he asked, and sounded genuinely interested.

  “It was nothing and probably spooked me more than it should have, but I saw a bobcat. I don’t think it saw me, but it gave me a bit of a scare.”

  “Oh, alright. Yes, they’ve been seen in the area,” Burnside said. “Nothing to get too worried about, but you might want to stay out of those woods. There’s no tellin’ what animals are in there. Your granddad said he saw a black bear once while hunting and there’s a man down in Columbia that swears he saw a mountain lion up that way, although the fish and wildlife didn’t believe him.”

  “Maybe I’ll just stick to walking around the fields,” I replied. “I was trying to get some exercise, but not if it’s going to be hazardous to my health.”

  Burnside laughed.

  “That sounds like a fine idea,” he said. “Those fields are certainly large enough to give you a workout. Thank you again for everything, Hick.”

  “You’re welcome, Jim. Have a good night.”

  “You too,” he said, and hung up.

  My mind was still racing with possibilities of what that dark animal was and I wished for the hundredth time this week for the Internet so I could look it up. Instead, I made myself a sandwich and sat out on the back patio, the big Ruger .45 sitting on the table next to my plate. Nothing moved in the fields, or in the trees that I could see. The air was still and the sun had brought the oppressive heat with it I always associated with southern summers.

  When I finished my sandwich, I went back inside and also loaded the shotgun. Better safe than sorry, Papa Hickory always used to say.

  8

  As hesitant as I was to go back to the woods the next day, I needed to get out of the house. This time, however, I selected a .357 Ruger Blackhawk revolver from the gun safe to take with me. There wasn’t much in North America that a .357 round wouldn’t kill. I also made a bacon, egg and cheese sandwich on toast to take with me for breakfast. There wasn’t a morning hunger that the old B.E.C sandwich couldn’t kill.

  I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t thinking about the Percocet. It was on my mind at least every few steps. I figured I had one, maybe two nights of good sleep left before the night twitches came on strong. They were like restless leg syndrome, but a hundred times worse. A year ago I went a couple days without pills. The twitches started after the second day and were what made me get back on the pills. Sleep, or the lack of it, is a powerful motivator to make you continue doing whatever makes it come back.

  It was a beautiful June day. The sky was filled with fair weather- white, voluminous clouds. The temperature was supposed to stay a comfortable seventy-five degrees today. There was a light wind and the smell of honeysuckles filled the air. I looked at my watch. It was a bit after eight A.M. The Ruger felt great, but a little bulky on my hip. Papa had a belt and holster for it that looked as if it had never even been used. It had cartridge loops on it and I filled them all with cartridges. I felt like Roland of Giliad from the The Dark Tower novels. When I looked in the mirror before leaving, I confirmed that I did, indeed, look like the last gunslinger.

  I kept to the middle of the fields, but scanned the tree line. If there was one benefit to having seen that wolf, or whatever it was yesterday, it was that I would keep my eyes open and stay alert. The military called it ‘situational awareness’, and I’d learned in life there weren’t many situations where it wasn’t a good idea to practice it.

  I just heard the usual scampering of squirrels and chipmunks. A few of them caught my eye as they jumped from tree to tree like little furry acrobats. The ground wasn’t as muddy as yesterday, either. The sun and heat had mostly dried it up. I saw some deer tracks, but nothing else.

  The tent was due to be delivered today. Reverend Burnside would be here to supervise the crew that would put it up. I was glad the fields had dried up a bit. I figured the cars and trucks would tear it up a little, but I didn’t want anyone getting stuck, because then I’d have to remember how to operate the Ford tractor to pull them out.

  I was actually looking forward to company. I hadn’t decided yet whether I wanted to attend the meetings. I supposed I would go to at least one or two of them to be polite. I wasn’t much for organized religion, but who knows, it might actually help. And besides, Granny Ellen would be proud of me for going.

  The Port-o-Potty was also due to be delivered later today as well. I decided I should call them back and get a few more. No one liked waiting in line to take a piss, or worse, to do ‘number two’.

  My mind was wandering, and I realized my situational awareness was lapsing. It’s strange how easy it is to get lost in your own head. The wolf- monster from last night could have come at me from the tree line and I wouldn’t have even seen it. I concentrated on keeping watch and made my way into the second field. As I did, I saw something that looked like a man, standing far off at the tree line near the end of the last field where I’d seen the wolf- monster yesterday. There was no way it could be a man, though, because it was roughly twelve feet tall. I convinced myself it was a just shadow, or a fallen tree branch leaning against another tree. It was impossible to tell from this far away. I was sorry I hadn’t brought my binoculars. I looked back toward the house to mark my progress. When I did, the sun came out from behind a cloud and I looked back to where the tall man was. He was now gone. So it was either the shadows, or my sightline.

  I kept walking and was happy to feel a sweat break out on my forehead. My back felt fine, even though my addict’s head told me exercise of any kind would injure my back again and require more pills.

  The smell of honeysuckles was joined by the slightly mineral smell of fresh water as I neared the middle of
the third field. I could actually hear the water as well and decided I’d enjoy a drink from the spring as I ate my breakfast.

  When I broke through the trees, I half expected the wolf- monster to be waiting for me; hackles raised, ready to eat me. However, this part of woods was empty of animals of any kind as far as I could tell. It was eerily silent, in fact. There weren’t even birds chirping. All I could hear was the water and my own footsteps.

  I decided to see if I could find anything left of the bobcat from yesterday. I knew that wasn’t the smartest of ideas, but I was genuinely curious if the predator had eaten the bobcat, or just killed it for sport. It was a strange notion, but I had it stuck in my head, just the same.

  I didn’t find anything, not even tracks. The wind must have blown leaves over any sign of a struggle. I made my way back to the main trail and then onto the waterfall.

  It was only about fifteen feet tall, with the cliff face above it, but it was still kind of cool to have your own waterfall. I sat down and had a mini picnic with myself and my egg sandwich. It was kind of depressing, yet it was kind of nice as well. I cupped my hands and got a drink from the fast- moving water at the base of the fall. I realized any water source could have microscopic organisms in it that could make you sick, but I figured I was pretty safe since the source of the spring was at the top of the waterfall. It flowed out of some rocks on the cliff above me. I decided to make my way up there after I finished eating. There was a path along the other side of the stream.

  I finished my egg sandwich, took another gulp of spring water, and climbed up the rocky hillside to the top of the falls. There was another rock face where gallons of clear cold water flowed from a large gash in the wall. The sides had been worn smooth. I put my hand in the crevice and felt the sides. They were like glass. I cupped my hand, took another drink and then unzipped to relieve myself well away from the water.

  As I was zipping back up, I heard movement through the leaves to my left and instantly went for my gun. I had it out of the holster and had the hammer cocked even before I saw what had made the noise. The sounds of crunching leaves grew closer and my eyes were trained on the area where the sounds were coming from.

  A huge gray dog with long wiry fur came sniffing over the hillside. My first thought was it was a wolfhound. My second was it was what had killed the bobcat yesterday. But then I realized the thing I’d seen yesterday was most definitely black, and although this dog was gargantuan, it was about half the size of the animal I’d seen take down that bobcat.

  “Hey, boy,” I said, as cheerfully as I could.

  The dog looked up at me and then appeared to smile. Its huge jaws parted and his tongue lolled out of his mouth. Then he came at me at a full run. I got scared at first, but when he stopped short of me and picked up a stick, I saw he wanted to play. I laughed and took the stick from him.

  “You wanna play, boy?” I asked, but then realized my boy was really a girl and she wasn’t gray, but a very pretty, silver color. “Here, girl. Go get it.” I threw the stick and she bolted after it. It was hard to believe something that large could move that fast, but she ran like a bolt of lightning through the trees.

  She picked up the stick and ran back to me in a flash. She dropped the stick and barked once, loudly. The sound echoed through the trees. I picked up the slobbery chunk of ash and threw it even farther this time. She bounded after it and then returned it again.

  When she came back, I approached her cautiously, let her sniff my hand and then scratched behind one ear. No collar, and she had mud on her legs and cockleburs in her fur. It looked like she had been out here for a while. I could also see her ribs. I scratched under her chin and she forgot all about the stick. Her back foot thumped madly on the forest floor.

  “You like that, huh?” I asked. “What’s your name, girl?” as if I expected her to answer me. “You must have a home somewhere. You’re too pretty to be a stray.” She looked at me and cocked her head as if trying to understand me, then ‘doggy-smiled’ at me again. The combination of lolling tongue and tilted head got me laughing again.

  I sat with my new friend for a while, enjoying the waterfall, and the way the breeze cooled the sweat on my skin. The dog made no move to leave, or even get up. She was content to sit by my side as if she was enjoying the sights and sounds as well.

  As I got up, the dog did as well and started following me.

  “You can’t come with me, girl,’ I said.

  She just stared at me as if to ask, why not? Aside from me thinking she was someone’s pet, I didn’t have an answer for her.

  I decided to just start walking. If she followed me, she’d get some leftover Hamburger Helper from the fridge and could stay until I figured out where she belonged. Except for being mean to her, which I could never do to a dog, I had no way to stop her from coming with me.

  She stayed right next to me, occasionally looking up at me when I looked down at her. I wanted to name her, but I knew that was the first step to getting attached to an animal. I decided I’d just call her “Girl” for now.

  We got back to the house and I fed her the leftover food. I was planning on having it for lunch, but I knew I needed to go to town anyway for supplies. I’d picked up the hamburger meat and the boxed lasagna in town on my way home yesterday just so I’d have something to eat last night. Now I supposed I’d have to pick up dog food as well and, by the look of my new friend, I’d be buying it by the truckload.

  9

  The tent arrived about an hour after I got back from my walk, and Reverend Burnside arrived in the church van as the men were rolling into the second field. He parked his vehicle at the end of the driveway and got out, watching the rental truck come to a stop. He was wearing his ‘reverend duds’, black pants, shoes, shirt and jacket, and looked like Johnny Cash.

  From the end of the driveway, we could see three large high school kids get out of the truck and begin hauling the tent out of the back. There was no way it would have fit in the back of my pickup. It was yellow- and- white striped and would probably be as big as the house when they put it up.

  “Good morning, Hickory,” he said, smiling and extending his hand. “Beautiful day.”

  “Morning, Rev. Yep, it sure is.”

  I kept one eye on Girl to see if she would bother anyone, but she just sat on the porch, keeping an eye on the activity.

  “Did you get a dog?” Burnside asked, nodding to Girl.

  “She kind of followed me home. You wouldn’t have any idea who she belongs to, would you?”

  “Never seen her before. She’s a big’un.”

  “Yes, sir. I figured a dog that big, someone would know who she belonged to. I’ll put up some ‘found dog’ signs in town later. I need to run to the store to get a few things anyway. Do you mind supervising the tent raising?”

  “Not at all. Where would you like it?”

  “I figured we could put it up in the second field and use the first one for parking. How many people do you think you’ll get to come out?”

  “I’m hoping several hundred. I’ve started printing flyers and I was planning on putting them up all over Centerville, as well as Spring Hill and Columbia. I have a few house visits to do tomorrow out that way.”

  “That should work out perfectly, then. Here’s my cell phone number in case you need anything while I’m gone,” I said, handing him a scrap of paper. “There’ll also be a few Porta Potties being delivered in a few hours.”

  “Good thinkin’.”

  “I thought so, too. Hey, do you need anything from town?”

  “No, I don’t think so.” Burnside broke into a smile. “It looks like you’ll have company, though.”

  Girl was already in the back of the truck, looking at me as if to say, Hurry up, man, times a wasting’. I shook my head and got in the truck, muttering, “Crazy dog.”

  We rode into town with Girl hanging her head over the side of the bed, enjoying the wind like only dogs can. I had my arm out the window. It was a fine d
ay for a ride.

  When we arrived at Piggly Wiggly I wondered whether I’d have to tie Girl to the bed, but she sat down and thumped her big tail on the floor and gave me her goofy smile again.

  “Stay,” I said, for good measure. She just cocked her head at me.

  Shopping didn’t take long. I could cook, but when it was just me, and maybe Girl eating the leftover scraps, there was no point. I stuck mainly to the frozen aisle and then swung by the beer aisle for a six-pack of Land Shark Beer. I figured if I couldn’t have pills, I could still get a buzz from the beer. Maybe I’d trade one vice for another. That thought almost made me want to cry.

  As I cashed out, I looked through the big front window and started to get scared when I didn’t see Girl, but then she sat up. She was probably just taking a nap. I wondered where she would sleep tonight, outside, or maybe she would come in the house? I didn’t care either way…as long as she didn’t want to sleep in the bed, or on the couches.

  We drove back to the house and then past it to the fields. I was surprised to see the tent was half way up. The workers were pounding in stakes attached to support lines. The Reverend was unloading some folding chairs from the back of the church van, so I got out to help him. Girl followed along beside me.

  We set the chairs up facing the podium someone had brought in. The workers had already spread extra hay down to sop up most of the wetness on the ground and so the ladies didn’t get their shoes too dirty.

  “Looks good so far,” I commented.

  “Yep, those boys work fast,” he agreed. “We might be able to hold the first meeting tomorrow. We don’t have one scheduled until Friday, but word of mouth might be enough to get some folks in here early.”

  “Good, good,” I said. “The more, the merrier.”

  I helped Burnside get the rest of the chairs into the tent and asked him if he wanted to stay for dinner. He politely refused, telling me his wife was expecting him home around six.