Southern House

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Southern House Page 18

by Mark Deloy


  “Mr. Franks hid the boy in the attic. He at first tied him, then had to chain him to the chimney that ran through the center of the large space. They kept that boy chained up for months. I don’t know what they planned on doing with him. Parents do some strange things, sometimes, in the protection of their children. The boy just chewed through ropes as though they were spaghetti. His parents brought him food and water. Most of it he refused, until Mrs. Franks discovered the once sweet son preferred his meat raw, or at least rare. The boy would also catch the rats that shared his space and eat those as well.

  “James had a little brother—”

  “Oh, dear God!” Lisa exclaimed then ran from the room to the bathroom and slammed the door. I could hear her retching behind it.

  “Go ahead,” Lisa said from behind the door. “I know this part. I’ve heard this story. I just didn’t know it was connected. I’m sorry.”

  “No need to be sorry, dearie” Talbot said, raising his voice. Then he continued the story where he’d left off.

  “James’s little brother was six and he was curious… even though his father had told him never to go into the attic. The younger boy heard movement from above his head and his brother’s, Hoo, Hooing, like an owl during the full moon.

  “The younger boy—Bill was his name—waited until his parents were downstairs listening to the nightly news on the radio after supper. He’d seen where his father had hidden the key to the padlock that secured the door. Bill retrieved it and then slowly pushed a chair up to the attic door and put the key in the lock, just as he’d seen his father do, dozens of times.

  “By the time the parents heard the commotion above them and heard the first scream it was far too late. I’ll let you use your imagination for the rest, but I’ve already told you about the older boy’s predilection for raw meat.

  “Mr. Franks didn’t have the same strong constitution as Bennie’s father. They kept the older boy up in that attic for another six months and made up a story about little Bill staying with his cousins in Knoxville.

  “I had a cousin on the police force back then, who said when they finally did discover the boy, it was because a mailman had complained to them about a shit- rot smell coming from the house. The police dragged James kicking, screaming and biting from the house. I’ll tell you more than one deputy needed tetanus shots after that afternoon was done.”

  Lisa came out of the bathroom at that point, wiping her mouth and looking flushed. She sat down beside me again and I was happy Talbot was almost finished with this part of the story.

  “That same cousin of mine told me about what they found in the attic after they removed the boy, although he was more of an animal than a boy by that point. The attic was littered with the bones of small animals he’d either caught or his parent’s had fed to him. I’ve thought about it and I think after eating his own brother, the boy had grown tired of the raw meat and would only eat live things. His parents, heeding some strange parental obligation, had probably satisfied his cravings. Thank the good Lord no other human bones were found. The police found several small animal traps in the garage and the manager of the Co-op said later he’d sold them several rabbits during those terrible months.

  “Why didn’t any of this make the papers?” Lisa asked. “I heard it from my editor, who was a rookie back then. He said they kept it out of the news.”

  “People kept things hushed up pretty good in small towns back then. Now you can’t fart without someone posting something about it on Tastebook or Fritter or whatever you call it.”

  True, I thought. Although due to my lack of an Internet connection at the house, I hadn’t checked Facebook in almost a month, and I had to say I didn’t miss it one bit.

  “You said Mr. Shift came back again in sixty-five. Will you tell us about that?” I asked.

  “Not today, son.” Talbot said. “Your lady friend is about to give out, and so am I. ‘Sides, it’s getting dark, and there is nothing in this world that could get me to talk about this part after the sun’s gone down. I’ll tell it to you if you can come back tomorrow. Visiting hours start at ten A.M.”

  I was shocked to look outside and see Talbot was right—it was indeed getting dark. I looked at my watch and was amazed to see several hours had passed.

  I started to protest, but Lisa touched my arm. It appeared Talbot was much better at reading women than I would ever hope to be.

  We said our goodbyes and thanked the old man several more times as we left. He told us to drive safely, and try not to think about it too much before bed.

  “Nightmares ain’t good for nobody,” he declared. “They’s the mind trying to make sense of what scares us. There’s no making sense of this. So it’s best to just put it out of your head for now. Think of something pleasant.”

  In my case, I didn’t think I was ever going to be able to think of something pleasant, ever again., And it would be a blue wonder if I even slept tonight after that story… especially since I knew what was out among the trees on my land, not even a mile from where I’d be laying my head.

  27

  It had stopped raining while we were inside and the air was crisp and cool as we left. I smelled honeysuckle and soy beans.

  “How much of that is true, do you think?” I asked, as we were getting in the car.

  “I’m afraid I have to say all of it. The old man has a mind like a steel trap. I’ll bet he’s forgotten more about those cases than most of the cops at the time ever knew.”

  I dropped Lisa off at her house, and thought about asking her to come home with me to go over all the details we’d been given, but she mentioned her son several times on the way home, so I knew she was anxious to get home to him. There seemed like there was much more to talk about. Then I remembered how Talbot had needed to tell me Lisa had had enough and didn’t push the issue.

  Before she got out, she gave me a hug and we stayed like that for a long time. I could smell cigarette smoke on her clothes and the slight hint of whiskey as well. She nuzzled her face against my neck and I thought for a minute she was going to start crying, but then she just kissed my neck, ever so softly and got out. She leaned back in the open window.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  “For what?”

  “Being human. For caring enough to look into this and trying to help with whatever’s going on.”

  I nodded and smiled.

  “Well, thank you for helping me.”

  “It’s my job, but even if it wasn’t, I’d still be with you. You’re a good man, Hickory Grimble.”

  Then she walked inside without looking back.

  ***

  Girl was happy to see me when I walked through the door. She danced around and even jumped up on me. I couldn’t help but laugh.

  “Get off, you big moose,” I told her, and set her back down. “Are you hungry?”

  That got her going again and she began to whine softly. I scratched her behind one ear and then filled her bowls with food and fresh water. As I opened the fridge to see what I was going to have for my own supper I could hear her bowl banging against the underside of the cabinet as she ate.

  “It’s not going anywhere, Girl.”

  I decided on some pork chops I’d picked up at the store the other day. I slopped some John Boy and Billie’s’s Barbecue sauce on them and then put them in the oven to broil. Then I dumped a can of green beans into a pan and set it on the stovetop to cook. After about ten minutes, the kitchen smelled great and I was glad I wasn’t a Muslim.

  I flipped the chops once and added some more sauce. Girl had finished eating and was now curled up by my feet as I read the newspaper at the kitchen table. It was strange to get my news like this after getting it from Drudge Report or World Net Daily for as long as I can remember. It was strangely comforting, though, to have a hard copy in my hands. For one thing, no one could delete it. I found Lisa’s latest story on the newly- returned children. It didn’t have many details, but was a thorough accounting of the events o
f the last couple of days. I could read her speech patterns in her writing and found myself smiling a couple of times as I read.

  The phone rang and I looked at my watch. It was only seven, but felt much later. I picked up the receiver, hoping it was Lisa.

  “Hello,”

  “Hey, Hick. It’s Jim. How are you?”

  “Hey, Jim. I’m good, but I’ve got a lot to tell you. I was actually going to call you in a bit anyway. Lisa and I went up to Willow Bend and talked with your local historian, Talbot Simms.”

  “Really? What did you learn?”

  I recounted most of what Talbot told us, pausing in some places when Jim asked some questions, but he didn’t seem shocked or surprised by any of it, like I anticipated he would be.

  “You have to understand what we are up against,” he said. “In the real world, we do not encounter evil very often. We live in a world, which is for the most part sanitized and made safe through technology and the police, but I believe, in this case, we are fighting pure evil. This creature, whatever it is, has taken children and changed them... turned them into something bad. He has twisted their innocence, just like Satan twists all that is good into something evil.”

  “Do you still think he is a demon?” I asked, surprising myself with how serious my voice was. If you told me a month before I’d be entertaining the possibility of a demonic entity being real, I would have laughed in your face.

  “It’s a possibility. I do not take matters of the supernatural world lightly. I haven’t convinced myself yet this isn’t just a sick man or several men playing dress up and taking children.”

  “I can tell you without any uncertainty what I saw in that house wasn’t human, and the house itself wasn’t of this world.”

  “And I believe you. Or rather I believe you believe what you saw, but I’m a skeptic by nature. Before I put an other-worldly explanation on something, I need to see it with my own eyes.”

  “I can’t blame you there,” I acknowledged. “But I can guarantee if you do ever see this creature, you’ll wish you hadn’t.”

  “I’m going to visit the children tomorrow,” Jim stated. “I was wondering if you and Lisa wanted to come with me?”

  “We’re going back up to Willow Bend in the morning to talk with Talbot again about the second round of abductions in the sixties. What time were you planning on going?”

  “I’ll probably leave here around nine. I’ll be going to the Baker house first to see Anni, then to the other two.”

  “Maybe Lisa and I can meet you afterwards, for coffee and discuss all of it.”

  “That sounds fine,” Jim said. “And I hope I didn’t offend you earlier.”

  “No way, Rev. I’ve got pretty thick skin. Not to mention, if someone told me what I told you, I would have tried to come up with a rational explanation for what they saw, too. The problem is, I saw what I saw and there is no rational explanation for it.”

  “I hope you are wrong,” Jim said. “Goodnight Hick, and be safe.”

  “You, too,” I returned, and hung up the phone.

  My pork chops were done, so I took them out of the oven, salted them liberally and put them along with the green beans onto a plate. I poured myself some Pepsi to go along with them and chowed down. I realized I hadn’t eaten since this morning and it only took me a few minutes to devour everything. I even gnawed on the salty bones for a minute before downing the rest of my soda and putting the dishes in the sink. I’d load the dishwasher later.

  I made a pot of decaf coffee and took a cup out onto the back deck. Girl followed me outside and resumed her same curled- up position by my feet out there. I looked out at the fields and forest. Everything looked peaceful. I had no reason to think there was a huge, rotted, disappearing house containing a monster out there, but I knew there was.

  I decided to take my normal walk tomorrow morning, before I left to pick up Lisa. That might prove to be a stupid decision, but part of me wanted to see that house again more than anything. I wanted to see it to solidify my resolve that it was real.

  The moon was full and there were plenty of stars. I’d forgotten how bright the sky was out here in the country. The air was crisp, but not enough for me to want a jacket. I sipped my coffee and stared into the blackness of the woods, waiting for something to move in there, but nothing did, as far as I could see. I wondered if the creature Talbot Simms called ‘Mr. Shift’ had disappeared for another half a century or so. Maybe he was even gone for good this time, but something deep inside of me knew that wasn’t true… knew he wasn’t done yet.

  Girl stood up and went to the edge of the deck. She sniffed the air and I could hear a low growl coming from her throat. The hair on her back stood up.

  “What is it, Girl?,” I whispered.

  She ignored me, focused on what she’d seen, smelled, or heard. Whatever it was, I couldn’t sense it. The clouds moved over the moon and everything grew much darker. The wind picked up and I could smell the forest. The scents of rotten leaves, thick dark soil, corn husks and hay filled my sinuses. It all mixed together to form a scent I knew well. It was comforting, and solid and real. There was no supernatural corruption in it. It reminded me of nature and hunting and my grandfather. There was magic in it, but not the bad kind.

  Girl must have given up on what she sensed, because she came back and laid back by my feet. I finished my coffee and thought I’d try to go to bed early. I’d been skimping on sleep lately and wanted to get caught back up. I felt as though I could sleep for a week and my eyes were heavy, but I decided to do some reading to try and get my mind off of Talbot’s stories. I noticed, then, my withdrawals were almost gone and I silently thanked God for it. I wasn’t overly religious, as I’ve said before, but as terrible as it all was, with everything going on, I didn’t have much time to think about my own issues.

  I brushed my teeth and used the bathroom, then crawled into bed. I browsed through my books I’d packed and decided on a horror novel, of all things. The Terror, by Dan Simmons. It was one I’d started before, but didn’t get too far into it, even though it was really good. My reading habits were usually based on how busy I was with everything else. I had no set reading schedule. I usually just had the urge and picked up a book.

  I got several pages into the story, reading about the doomed arctic ship. It reminded me of the arctic scene in Frankenstein.

  I don’t even remember setting the book down. It must have slipped from my hands as my eyes closed, and I fell into a deep sleep. I know I dreamed that night, but I think my waking mind blocked out those images as too intense, too horrific to bring into the morning light.

  The sunlight streaming through my window was what actually woke me. I blinked against it. My eyes felt swollen, as if I’d been crying in my sleep, and I thought that was a very real possibility. I could feel the events of the last couple of weeks closing in on me. It was as if they were walls in the room of my psyche moving closer, trying to crush me.

  My watch said it was barely seven A.M., but I was wide awake. I plodded down stairs to start the coffee, feed Girl, and make myself some breakfast before my shower.

  After I’d finished cooking my scrambled eggs I decided I wanted a scrambled egg sandwich and made some toast. I had real butter, so I applied too much to the toast and then piled on the scrambled eggs and plenty of salt. It was messy and probably bad for my cholesterol, but it was absolutely delicious.

  I cleaned up the kitchen and loaded both breakfast and last night’s supper dishes into the dishwasher and turned it on. Girl went outside to go exploring and to do her business while I went up to the bathroom to take a shower.

  I grabbed some clothes and a clean towel and went into the bathroom. I thought I smelled something funny, but figured it was just the old septic system. I knew it was old and I had no idea when it was last emptied.

  I pulled back the shower curtain and my breath caught in my throat. I was glad the toilet lid was up, because I didn’t look, I just turned my head and vomited
up my breakfast. The smell was more intense as I pulled the curtain aside, coupled with what I saw, made me instantly sick.

  My bathtub was filled to the brim with heads. I saw mostly squirrels, but there were a couple of coyote heads with their mouths open and their tongues hanging out in a death grin. There were also several bird heads and even a bobcat head. The rim of the tub was coated in their blood, but the rest of the bathroom was spotless, as if they were just magically transported here. I saw it for what it was: a warning. I realized Mr. Shift could have easily taken Girl’s head, instead. The thought made me both scared and angry. There was also the fact that Girl had sensed nothing amiss and she had been just as close to the ruined bathtub as I had been with a much keener sense of smell. It was as if the heads had appeared just now or within the last few minutes, since I let the dog out.

  I looked out the bathroom window that overlooked the yard to check on Girl. She was happily rolling around in the grass near the back deck. I sighed, realizing I was going to have to clean this up. I thought about calling Jensen to report it, but then realized it would serve no purpose and would prolong the cleanup. I decided to just get it over with before it started smelling worse than it did. I only hoped I could get it cleaned up without throwing up again.

  I went downstairs, let Girl in, and then grabbed the box of trash bags, some Lysol, the dustpan and a pair of work gloves. Ideally, dishwashing gloves would have been much better—those thick yellow things—but I didn’t have any and I wasn’t going to the store to get some right now.

  I went back upstairs and opened the bathroom window to help with the smell, but I had to close the bathroom door to keep Girl out. I began picking up the heads and dropping them into the bag. It was the meaty sound of the bobcat head dropping onto the heads I’d already put in that got to me, and I threw up the last of last night’s pork chops into the toilet. I wiped my mouth, swished some Listerine, gritted my teeth and finished the job. I filled up two and a half bags. When I got down to the last few heads, I realized there were maggots crawling around in the muck at the bottom and I dry heaved a few times. My stomach was empty now. I closed my watering eyes and took a deep, slow breath, trying to breathe through my mouth so I didn’t gag any more. Now, I wasn’t afraid, or angry—I was pissed! Whatever this thing was, or how smart it thought it was, I was going to find it and stop it. If that meant finding some anti-demon spell to kill the bastard, then that’s what I was going to do. This was MY house....MY land—HE was the intruder. I gritted my teeth and finished the job.

 

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