by Crowe (epub)
“That’s right.” Johnny nodded.
“Well, what did you say?”
“I told him no, so he took back everythin’ he gave me. That’s why I’m up here now, Emmit. If I got off of here and stripped these clothes off, well, you wouldn’t know me for a man if you seen me. No one would.”
“Not even Anna Lee?”
Johnny shook his head. “Especially not Anna Lee.”
An uneasy silence fell over the two of them. At length, Johnny asked, “How did you know about the Devil’s army?
“Colonel Morris saw the tracks leadin’ away from the pile of bones, so ‘e and some of the other fellas followed them this direction. ‘e said they was a few weeks old from the look of them, but those roads ain’t used much nowadays with the weather turnin’ cold, so they thought they could track down whoever ‘ad dumped them body parts and see what they was about. And they did. They followed them to just outside of that town over yonder. They said there was quite a commotion goin’ on… bunch of little black fellas ---”
“Imps,” Johnny said.
“Yeah,” said Emmit. “Only they called ‘em demons. Anyways, they ‘eard these demons sayin’ that they’re army is almost ready, that they was goin’ to ride out on ‘alloween night and conquer the world. You know what they did then?”
Johnny looked at the broomstick poking out where his left arm had once been. “I have a pretty good idea,” he said.
“Then you know why we need you. It was you came up with the idea to end the fightin’ up at Manassas. We need you so we can keep this devil and ‘is army from takin’ over the world. Now, if ‘e thought you was goin’ to lead his army, then ---”
“That wasn’t me,” Johnny cried. “That was the head the Devil gave me. I ain’t smart enough to come up with a plan like that on my own. I can’t help you.”
“You have to,” said Emmit. “This country’s divided, Johnny. North and South. Men fightin’ and killin’ their own kin. They ain’t ready for this, Johnny. They can’t pull it together to ---”
“I told you I can’t,” said Johnny. “I ain’t no good to anyone like this.”
“Then get down from there and come with me. We got a whole ---”
“Emmit.”
Emmit looked up and tried to see through the burlap sack that hung over Johnny’s head. He tried to see Johnny’s face, but he couldn’t.
“I don’t care anymore.”
Emmit recoiled and took a step back. “Well that’s just fine.” He fumed, pacing. “We ain’t even alive and we’ve done ---” Emmit balled his fists and shook them in fury. “You don’t care about all ‘em folks that’s goin’ to die, or worse, when the ‘ell he’s been creatin’ for this?” Emmit opened his fists and jabbed a finger at Johnny’s chest. “What ‘appened to you?”
Johnny reached over with his good arm and unbuttoned his shirt. It was sore and stiff from hanging on the pole and weak from lack of use. His cold, thin fingers fumbled with the buttons until at last he was able to pull the cloth aside and expose the flesh beneath. A long, jagged scar ran from under his chin all the way down to his navel. The flesh around the scar was striped red with infection, the color draining away to fish-belly white as it stretched taut over his rib cage and wrapped around his torso.
“See that?” Johnny asked.
“My God.”
“I don’t care because the Devil took my heart. He said it made me a weak leader.”
“No,” Emmit said. “It’s what made you a good leader. That’s why you stayed and saved all of us at Manassas when all you wanted to do was get ‘ome.” Emmit looked up from Johnny’s chest to that burlap sack once more. “No, the Devil was wrong about that.”
Emmit spun around and Johnny lifted his head toward the house. Someone was coming, running headlong through the fog. Johnny fumbled to fasten his shirt closed while Emmit’s ghost dissipated into nothingness. Johnny had given up trying to button his shirt, instead he worked his arm free of the sleeve and held his shirt closed from the inside, hoping that whoever was coming wouldn’t notice his right sleeve hanging limp at his side.
Anna Lee ran through the mist, tripping over a rut in the field and falling to her knees on the ground at Johnny’s feet. She was wearing nothing but a nightgown, her body shook from the cold and the sobbing that wracked her slender frame. She lay crying for a while longer. Johnny was convinced that she must have hurt herself in the fall when Anna Lee spoke.
“I don’t want to do it,” she cried, clutching the pole that Johnny hung from. “I can’t do it.”
Johnny looked down at the top of her head, wanting to cradle it and tell her that whatever it was, everything would be all right. That ain’t your place anymore, that not-Grandpa voice spoke in his head. She’s found her another man.
Anna Lee raised he tear-streaked face and looked up at the scarecrow. “I know you can’t hear me,” she said, “but I’ve felt so… so safe since Daddy put you up. Like you was watchin’ over me.” She wiped her nose the sleeve of her gown. “Least, he ain’t been back out here since you’ve been up.” She pulled herself up on the pole and stood with her arms hugging her chest. “Guess I can talk to you.” She sniffed. “You ain’t gonna tell nobody.”
Anna Lee hesitated before continuing. “Any day now, he’s goin’ to ask me to marry him.” Even though he knew it was coming, hearing her say it made Johnny feel sick all over again. If he’d had a heart left in his chest, it would have broken all over again. “I heard her tellin’ Daddy after supper. That man,” she shuddered, “wants to be out of here ‘round the first of the month. Wants to be over the mountains and back home before winter sets in.”
“I know I should marry him. I know it’s what they want. At least it’s what she wants and what she wants Daddy to want.” Anna Lee looked up at the scarecrow’s face. For a moment she thought she could see a single eye gleaming underneath the sack, but passed it off for a trick of the light. You never could trust the light in a fog. “But I don’t want to. I want to marry Johnny Crowe.”
Whatever Johnny thought the Devil had taken from him, whatever he thought had died inside him as he hung on that pole, roared to life. For the first time since he had faced down Scratch in the orchard, Johnny felt a spark of hope return. The crow was right, had been somebody before he left. He had been somebody to the one person who mattered most, Anna Lee.
Johnny tried to speak, but the words wouldn’t come. He tried to move, but it felt as though something, like a giant hand, held him in its grasp, squeezing him like a vice. His breath came in silent, shallow gulps. Johnny’s eyes rolled up and he saw that the clouds had parted. The moon shone bright, bathing the receding fog in its soft glow. Grandpa had once told Johnny that if you looked close enough you could see a face in the moon. Johnny had tried on different occasions to see the face of the man in the moon, but had never had enough of an imagination to do so. Looking up, Johnny saw a face form and he knew that he wasn’t imagining things. It was the snarling face of Mr. Scratch.
“I just wish Johnny would come home,” Anna Lee sighed. She wiped the tears from her cheeks with the sleeve of her nightgown, then added, “I guess I could run away.”
It had sounded silly to her own ears, but already an idea was forming. “I could,” she said. “I could run to Devil’s Knob and hole up there and wait for Johnny to come home.” She looked across the field, knowing that the Knob lay not too far beyond. “Or at least wait until he’s gone. He wants to be out of here around the first of the month… that’s only a couple of days. I could hide out ‘til he’s gone, then come back home.” She turned back to the scarecrow, working it all over in her mind’s eye. “They’d be upset that I had run off. I’d have to come clean and tell them all about me and Johnny. I should have done that all along. I could tell them now, but they’d say that Johnny ain’t comin’ back or try to tell me that I ne
ed to marry this other fella instead, that I’d be better off with him.”
Saying it out loud helped Anna Lee see the big picture and made her decision that much easier to make. “I’ll go tomorrow night.”
Unable to offer any help, Johnny listened while Anna Lee spoke and thought that the idea was as good as any. She can get away, he thought. Hole up in the shack up on the Knob. Dread crept into Johnny’s belly, forming a hard knot. Only it ain’t “the Knob”… it’s “Devil’s Knob”. Images and fragments of conversation flashed through Johnny’s head.
“…a pile of dead bodies a ways back…”
…the imps, hauling the wounded into the tents…
“They wasn’t bodies at all. Just body parts, all wounded up…”
“…I created them just for you…”
…the surgeons, hacking off the wounded limbs to be carried to a pile…
“…followed them to just outside of that town over yonder…”
“…lead the army I’ve prepared against these hurtful people…”
Oh no… not Devil’s Knob. Johnny lifted his eyes and saw that Scratch’s face had melted away, replaced by his true face. And the Devil was smiling.
Anna Lee looked up at the moon as well, but she didn’t see the Devil looking down on them. “It’s late,” she said. “I should get back.” The fog had started to lift and Anna Lee saw the house in the moonlight. She took a step toward the house, then stopped. Anna Lee spun around, stood on her tiptoes, and planted a kiss on the scarecrow’s burlap cheek.
“Thank you,” she said. “For listenin’. Remember, this is our little secret.”
Reverend Henderson woke early and headed into town. Tonight was Halloween, and even though he didn’t put much stock in those heathen superstitions, he knew that he’d be busy blessing the families that came in from the surrounding farms, looking for a good word to keep the spirits at bay tonight. He was in a foul mood; according to Irma, Mr. Samuels, which is how he thought of the man, regardless of what he asked them to call him, was going ask Anna Lee to marry him. And he’s going to do it soon, the Reverend thought. Maybe even tonight. He knew it was probably for the best, which his wife was keen to point out, but the thought of her moving away and marrying this man, this stranger, with his odd mannerisms and eyes that said that he wasn’t quite telling the truth, didn’t sit well with him at all.
As the cart rumbled down the hill toward town, the Reverend looked out across his north field. At least Anna took down that ugly scarecrow, he thought. Don’t know why she ever thought to put one up out here, anyhow. The Reverend carried on, leaving the field and the cross where the scarecrow once hung behind him.
“Where you at, crow?” Johnny called, running through the woods. It had taken him a bit to get used to the fence posts that served as his lower legs, but once he got moving, it wasn’t so bad. That’s one thing I can take credit for, Johnny thought with dry humor, I can adapt. It took no time at all for him to figure out how to run on the posts, which was a good thing; he needed to move fast.
In the trees overhead, birds took flight, cawing and scolding Johnny for all of the racket he was making; all except for one big, black bird, who glided down to a low-hanging branch. Johnny skidded to a stop with the crow looking at him, its head cocked to one side.
“That you, crow?” Johnny asked.
“Depends… that you, scarecrow?” the crow asked back.
“Yeah.”
The crow hopped to the side and cocked its head the other way. “How come you’re running around here, scaring all of the…” The crow’s voice trailed off, looking around. “Well I’ll be… you finally made it as a scarecrow.” The bird cawed out a harsh laugh.
Johnny knew that he looked a sight. He had kept the shirt and britches, but had ditched the burlap sack. The wide-brimmed hat, the one that he thought could pass for General Stuart’s, had blown down to the far end of the field where it had become stuck in the exposed roots of a tree stump. The feather didn’t amount to much anymore, but Johnny slicked it down the best that he could before placing the hat back on his head. It covered most of the hole in the top of his head and the shadow cast by the brim did a pretty good job of concealing the rest of his face and hollow eye socket, like it always had. The ends of the fence posts poked out from under the cuffs of his pant legs. He had broken the broomstick in half and pulled out much of the straw, giving it more shape and hoping that it would pass well enough for an arm, at least until his work was finished. The “War Department” bag lay right where he left it beside the cherry tree. Johnny had slung it over his shoulder, feeling the canvas slap against his hip when he ran. Never know when you’ll need a sack.
“Maybe you ain’t so stupid after all,” said the crow, “but you’re still ugly.”
“Listen,” Johnny said, “I need you to find my friend. Emmit.”
“The ghost?” the crow asked.
“Yeah. The one you brought to me last night.”
“Why don’t you go get him yourself?”
“I don’t know where to find him.” Johnny sighed. “Him or any of the others.”
“Well, that’s easy,” said the crow. “They’re up on the hill over there. Looks like their real busy, too.”
Johnny followed the crow the best that he could as it flew from tree to tree, looking back once in a while to make sure the boy was keeping up. They hadn’t left the orchard very far behind when Johnny realized where they were going. It made perfect sense. Hadn’t it been the ghosts of Grandpa Crowe and Anna Lee’s own mother that had driven the two lovers here in the first place?
Climbing the hill, their hill, Johnny found the ghost camp arranged before him in a way that reminded him of the camp outside of Richmond. Good, he thought, that means Emmit and Colonel Morris are here. Johnny walked among the men, who waved and called out to him when he passed. He scanned the faces, seeing many that he recognized from Manassas, both Confederate and Union alike, but didn’t see Emmit. Colonels Morris and Ambrose stood with their backs to the camp, surveying the town in the distance below. To their right loomed Devil’s Knob.
The Colonels turned to see what all the commotion was about and saw Johnny making his way toward them through the camp. Colonel Ambrose’s face burst into a grin. Though Colonel Morris looked surprised, he remained stoic.
“Mr. Crowe,” Colonel Morris said. “I was under the impression, based on what Mr. Pearson told us ---”
“Emmit’s here?” Johnny interrupted.
“No, not here. He’s down in the town, getting a good look at that cemetery. It seems we’re in for a fight, and he thought that it might be wise to solicit help from some of the locals.”
“Locals?” Johnny asked, puzzled.
“Ghosts,” replied Colonel Morris.
“See, Morris,” Colonel Ambrose beamed, saluting Johnny. Johnny returned the salute. “I told you he’d come.”
“Listen,” Johnny said. “It’s goin’ to be tonight. I know where the Devil’s goin’ to be. Up there.” Johnny pointed toward the barren spire jutting out of the ground to the northeast.
Colonel Ambrose produced a spyglass from within his coat and held it to his eye. “Yes,” he said, “that looks a likely enough spot for the enemy to camp.”
“It’s called Devil’s Knob,” Johnny said. “I used to live up there.”
“Are you sure? Tonight?” Colonel Morris asked.
“Positive.”
“All right, then,” said Colonel Morris, turning to the soldiers in the camp. “It looks like we have work to do.”
Johnny found the crow perched in a nearby tree.
“I need your help,” Johnny said.
“Figured as much,” answered the crow.
“You know that ‘straw-headed girl’ from the farm?”
“The one you used to be
in love with, but ain’t no more?”
“Uh… right,” said Johnny. “Sometime today she’s goin’ to try to run away from home, up to the Knob over there.” Johnny nodded toward Devil’s Knob. “Probably after dark.”
The crow shuddered. “That place… it’s no good.”
“I know,” said Johnny. “That’s why I need you to keep her away from it. Just for today. And tonight.”
The crow considered. “Just the girl?”
“Anybody that tries to head over to the Knob,” Johnny said. “Keep ‘em out of there. Today and tonight.”
The crow considered this. “Going to take an awful lot of us,” it said, then flew away toward the orchard.
Johnny met with the Colonels, including the Union Colonel Johns, who led even more ghosts to the hill around mid-morning, discussing what little they knew and trying to formulate a plan. Johnny knew the town and surrounding land better than anyone and thought he had some idea of what the Devil had in mind. The truth of the matter was that not one of them had the slightest idea what it was that they were going up against. No one had ever seen what the Devil’s army before. All they knew was that the fighting needed to take place as far away from the town as possible, to limit the number of human casualties.
“And you’re sure that there’s no one in town that can help us?” Colonel Morris asked. “No one you could go to for help?”
“No.” Johnny shook his head. “Not lookin’ like this. Besides, I ain’t exactly someone those folks would listen too.”
“That’s a damned shame,” grunted Colonel Johns. “Don’t they know a hero when they see one?”
“I ain’t no hero,” Johnny stated. In the not-too-distant past, he might have blushed if someone had called him a hero. Not today.
Johnny explained to the Colonels that there was a depression just below the Knob along the southern side, a bowl formed by the surrounding hills. “He’ll have his eyes on the town,” Johnny told them. “It’ll be up to us to draw him away and into that bowl. If we can get men along the ridge on three sides and leave just the way down the Knob open to them, then that’s our best chance to trap them.”