The cop cleared his throat bringing me back to reality.
“I really need to get some things from the van,” I said. “Could you give me a ride?”
“All right, but we better hurry. Got a wrecker coming to pull it out. They’ll have to impound it until the tow bill’s paid.”
“Do you have to tow it?”
“I’m afraid so. It’s parked on the preserve, leaking oil, and it won’t start.”
Great, thanks to Mom and her escapades we’d be out of a car. Again.
“Let me get my brother and I’ll be right back.”
The cop nodded and I hurried inside to refill Benny’s cup, and slip on some shoes. Shielding my eyes from the sun, I followed the trooper to a black and white patrol car parked near the front steps. He'd driven over a forest of weeds in the process, smashing them flat. The tension in my shoulders eased, if I needed to walk to the road, at least there’d be a path broken.
“Sure hope your mom turns up soon. Otherwise, guess we’re gonna have to file a missing persons report and search the swamp. She have any sort of mental disease, medical problems, addictions?”
Yes officer, my mother has an addiction to men, and you better have that club ready just in case she jumps out of the bushes and tries to drag you in. “No sir, not that I know of.”
He unlocked the trunk, pulled out a car seat for Benny and buckled it in place. “Do you have any other parent or guardian?”
“No, I’m eighteen,” I lied, securing Benny into the seat. Like age really mattered. I’ve been on my own for as long as I could remember.
“You’re out of school?”
“No, I had a late birthday, so I was always a year older than the kids in my class.”
We started down the weedy path and he peered at me in the rearview mirror. “You’ll be going to Terrebonne High in the fall?”
“Yeah, guess so.” What was this? A job interview?
“You’ll like it.” He scratched at the swelling mosquito bite on his neck. “My oldest daughter went there. Good teachers, small classes.”
We took a sharp turn down a gravel road that seemed to stretch for miles. Branches and vines slapped at the sides of the patrol car. He steered into a clearing; thick stands of thorns scraped down the side of the vehicle like a witch’s fingernails.
“There goes my new paint job,” the cop grumbled. He brought the car to a stop on the side of a narrow dirt road.
I climbed out, leaving Benny strapped inside with his cup. I leaned over and kissed his head before shutting the car door. “I'll be right back,” I whispered.
“Watch your step, young lady,” the cop said, leading the way.
Spongy moss and ferns squished beneath my feet. A few yards away, I spotted the bus, cloaked in weeds and vines, camouflaged in foliage. My heart dropped. It looked as if someone had tried to hide it on purpose. The cop waded through the brambles like a bull. I followed, my mind racing with all kinds of horrible possibilities.
I gripped the passenger side door handle, pulled it open and screamed.
A pig’s head with cataract gray eyes sat on the driver’s seat. Flies buzzed around the snout dripping with snot. A white circle of thick granules surrounded the decapitated head. Salt?
I slammed the passenger door shut, my throat tight and my stomach churning.
“What’s the matter?” the cop asked.
I stared into his eyes and then at the mosquito bite on his neck the size of a quarter.
“T-there’s something dead in there.” I pointed at the bus.
Officer Cain moved past me, yanked the door open and waved his hand in front of his nose. “Oh for heaven’s sake. When are these swamp-hicks gonna stop this damn nonsense!” He closed the door and rolled his eyes. “Don’t pay any attention to it. Just some silly old superstitions. I’ll get rid of it and then you can grab your things.”
The big cop bulldozed through the weeds around the vehicle to the driver’s side door, pulled it open and tugged out a club at his side. He poked at the hog’s head. One of the eyes fell out and rolled to the floorboards. A fresh wave of nausea pretzeled my gut. He batted the head from the front seat with a dull thump. The cop jumped back and the head rolled onto the ground.
I plugged my nose, and darted inside the bus, grabbing my luggage and Benny’s playpen. I set it on the ground and started to search for Benny’s diaper bag when I spotted Mom’s purse. My heart punched against my rib cage. Fear catapulted into overdrive. Mom would never go anywhere without her purse. Had she been kidnapped? Is that what that pig’s head was all about? Some kind of a warning?
I shuddered and grabbed Mom’s bag. Maybe something in it would give me a clue as to what happened to her. As terrible as it sounds, she could leave me and Benny in a hot second, but there were certain things she’d never leave behind. An arsenal of seduction: sweet pea perfume, blood-red lipstick in a shade called Vixen, acrylic nail glue and black mascara.
I opened the purse and stared at the contents. Only a few gum wrappers, a leaky ink pen, a blank notepad and some change. I clenched my jaw and snapped it closed, catching a whiff of her perfume. The witch had obviously skipped out on us again. Or had she? Her wallet was also gone, so it could have been a robbery. But, why would they take her makeup and cell phone?
“Let me help you with that stuff,” Officer Cain said, starting to collect the bags from the ground. I smiled gratefully as I made one last dive into the bus to grab the diaper bag I’d been searching for when I found Mom’s purse.
We made our way to the squad car, fighting through thorns, bugs and weeds. Benny's eyes were closed, but he let out an irritated cry when I shut the car door. He seemed to be sleeping a lot more than usual. Poor little guy must be really stressed. Soon as Mom came back, I’d make her take us away from here. I swallowed hard—if she did come back.
The patrol car rumbled over the rutted path to the main road. I grabbed my cell phone from my bag and checked for messages. None. I tried Mom’s number but it went straight to voice mail. Hearing her voice churned my stomach in a whole new way. Would this be the last time I would hear it? Would I save the recording and play it over and over again after I found out she was dead, just to hear her voice again?
Fear swirled up inside like a tornado. Everything felt so out of control. Sure I was mad at her a lot and there were plenty of times I had wished she’d just disappear. But I never meant for her to be gone forever.
We made a sharp turn around a bend to the front gate of the old plantation. In the afternoon sun, the creepy old mansion seemed deceptively innocent. But somewhere deep inside, I knew better. There was something about it that wasn’t right.
I spotted Wolf’s truck and trailer parked to the left of the entrance. The cop drove around them, through the open gate, and to the house. I stepped from the car, listening to the gentle hum of a lawn mower. The earthy smell of fresh cut grass filled the air. Wolf came over a small rise, on the mower. He looked at me, grinned and waved. I returned the gesture, glad to see him, but not glad to be back at the decrepit house.
Sassy watched the patrol car pull into the driveway of the old plantation house. She sucked in a breath. Lord, had someone died? She set the box on the table, forgetting about it for the time being. She shook her head and patted her chest in a feeble attempt to calm her racing heart. Sassy took her tea out onto the porch where she could sit a spell, settle her nerves, and catch a glimpse of what was going on next door. Waves of soothing steam warmed her face, but still her heart hammered. If she kept this up, she’d give herself a heart attack or stroke before she could warn those people.
Frowning, she gazed at the sky. Funny how she hadn’t heard any birds singing for the past few days, guess they knew better than to stay in these parts. Now if only people were as smart as those birds, they’d know to stay clear of that old house and pond. Maybe it was too late. She should’ve gone over there last night. Sassy turned her troubled thoughts away, squinting at the plantation house across the s
wamp. If someone were dead, there’d be an ambulance or hearse of some kind. She gulped the last drop of tea—unless there wasn’t enough left of them.
Sassy lumbered inside the shack. She rinsed her cup and set it beside the stove, grabbed a jar of brick dust and spread it around the baseboards.
“You can’t hurt me now,” Sassy mumbled. “Can’t cross this here dust.”
The cop unloaded my stuff onto the porch. “I’ll be back to give you an update. If you hear from your mother, give me a call right away. Here’s my contact information.”
He handed me a business card with black letters. Officer Solomon Cain.
“Okay, thanks for everything,” I said.
Benny kicked to get out of my arms. I set him on the porch where he ran back and forth. Resting on the front steps, I watched my brother run in a circle on his chubby little legs. Not long ago, I had that much energy, but now I just felt wiped-out.
The cop reached into his pocket, pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed at his brow. “You sure you can handle things out here alone?”
“Yes, we’ll be fine,” I said, but I wasn’t so sure.
The cop hiked back to his car and slid behind the wheel, all the while keeping an eye on the house. I stood on the porch, watching as the patrol car made a wide loop in the tall grass, then disappeared down the dusty road.
In the distance, Wolf made good progress with the mower. With the grass cut short behind him, I saw something I hadn’t noticed earlier: buildings, at least a dozen of them. Dilapidated cabins. My heart sank. Slave shacks.
A burn in my throat forced a painful cough. What I wouldn’t do for a cherry cola. I picked up my purse and checked to make sure my wallet was still there along with the twenty I had stashed behind a picture of Benny. I breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe I could convince Wolf to take us to town, look for Mom and grab something to eat. In the meantime, I had to get the house cleaned up. It seemed like a good time to tackle it in the daylight, when the place felt less threatening.
I set up the playpen in the living room and put Benny inside. He snuggled into the blankets, playing with a musical set of pretend car keys. I gathered my supplies, then went upstairs to the master bedroom. Carefully, I stripped the nasty bedding off the four-poster bed. Years of accumulated dust and mold flew into the air, burning my lungs.
There was enough dirt on the floor alone to cover an entire graveyard. I beat the dust from the mattress and washed down the bed frame before sweeping the room, then stood back and admired my work. Not bad, but it could have been better. I didn't want to get too comfortable—soon as possible I wanted out of here. Most importantly, I didn't want to get all friendly with Wolf. Soon, Mom would come back and he’d be just another face in the rearview mirror.
I carried the bedding downstairs and put it in the kitchen sink to soak. I spun the big silver handles. The pipes rattled and clanged, spitting rusty water into the basin until the water finally ran clear.
The steady hiss of water and shaky plumbing sent a spark of worry into my gut. What if Mom never came back? How long could Benny and I stay in such an old house? What would happen when we ran out of food? Tears stung my eyes. I didn’t want anything to happen to Mom. As bad as she was, I still loved her.
“Mom, please be okay,” I whispered. “We need you.”
Sassy sat on the porch, eyeing the police car leaving the plantation house, its tires crackling over gravel as it hurried away. She got to her feet, intent on heading over there. Get it done with. Warn them and then suffer whatever consequences came from it. She’d warned the last people. The ones that came a few years ago. They hadn’t seemed surprised when she told them about all the terrible things that’d happened. They made a few repairs and then, thankfully, never came back.
Sassy went into the kitchen and spotted the box on the counter. Strange how she hadn’t noticed how weathered it was before. How old the writing looked, scrawled across the center. She fumbled through the top drawer looking for a pair of sewing scissors. She found them and snipped the thick twine holding it together. Sassy freed the top flaps and tossed the shears onto the table next to her rocking chair. Shredded newspaper filled the box. She tossed some of the paper aside and reached in, fishing around. She felt something solid, not quite halfway down.
Near the bottom, beneath her knobby fingers, something rustled, like skeletal leaves in the fall. She pulled the object out and stared into the box. Nothing moved. She unwrapped the object to find a small porcelain doll, just like she had always wanted as a child. But this doll was very old, much older than the dolls she remembered from the Sears catalog of her youth.
She slowly turned the figurine over in her hands, examining its fine detail. Tears stung her eyes. “How lovely,” she cooed. “How sweet of those church gals to give me such a fine gift.” But how did they know? She stepped to the counter, grabbed a damp washcloth and dabbed at the dusty doll.
Behind her, inside the box, something stirred. Sassy froze. It was too much of a coincidence for those church gals to know that she’d always wanted a doll like this one. The hair on the back of her neck bristled. No. They couldn’t have possibly known.
Sassy set the doll in the sink, watching it dissolve into a lump of dirt.
“Is that you?” She turned, locking her gaze on the box. “You done come for me already?”
Eyes. A forked-tongue. In a smooth liquid motion, a black snake emerged from the box and dropped to the floor. Carefully, Sassy reached for the meat cleaver beside the sink, the wooden handle nearly touching her fingertips. The snake hesitated, leering with vertical pupils.
Sassy wound her fingers around the weapon. In an instant, the snake lunged. Its needle-like fangs sank into her flesh, injecting its venom into her foot. Sassy kept hold of the cleaver, shrieking as she fell. The back of her head bounced off the wooden slats. She blinked, staring up at the ceiling, drifting away, but the searing pain in her ankle brought her back. Just as bad, if not worse, was a sword of pain cutting through her right hip, where she’d slammed against the floor.
The snake lay motionless, coiled nearby, watching with unwavering eyes. For a moment, Sassy’s mind clouded. She couldn’t think at all, listening to the drum of her heart, agony soaring through her body.
The snake hissed, dancing closer. Fear took hold. Fear and bitter anger, consuming her like the flames of hellfire.
No. She would not allow this to happen. Not this time. She’d lived in fear for nearly seventy years—it was time to stop. She struck with the cleaver, but the snake was quicker, retracting just out of her reach. The weapon sank into the floor boards, its blade glinting in the morning sun. Within minutes the poison would spread, stealing her oxygen, stopping her old heart and she’d die—die without being able to warn those folks. Exactly what the demon before her wanted.
“You’re not real,” Sassy said, fighting the panic in her mind telling her different. “You’re just a conjurin’ of my mind.” Somewhere in the far reaches of her brain, a voice screamed to get help, but who would hear her?
“You plant seeds of fear in folks to reap power. Well you ain’t scarin’ me. Not no more.” Sassy grabbed a fistful of brick dust from the floor and blew it at the reptile. “Go back to the grave—back to the rot where you belong.”
The snake coiled, its elliptical eyes fixed in hate. Then, with a whip of its tail, the serpent vanished, taking the searing pain in her foot with it.
Sassy pulled herself up and leaned against the counter. Funny how that brick dust worked now, it should have kept the spirit out entirely. Then she remembered, by packing that box inside, she had invited it in.
Her head throbbed with the gnawing pain in her hip and leg. She wiggled her toes and bent her knees. More bruised than anything. She’d been lucky this time, with half of her body landing on the throw rug. She knew the evil was capable of far worse and next time she’d be ready. She hobbled to the rocker and stared at the empty box, now a lump of dirt and swamp water.
Sassy
knotted her fist. The marsh was no place for a hobbling old woman, let alone one with a bum hip, but she had to get over there and warn them folks. First, she’d have to rest a spell and let her old bones heal.
Lord help them.
I stood at the sink washing the sheets. The screen door sprang open and Wolf lumbered inside, wiping sweat from his brow. “How’s things today in Amityville?”
“Okay, I guess.”
“I seen the cop, what’s up with that?” Wolf smiled wide. “You knock off a liquor store or something?”
“No, they found my mom’s van abandoned down the road.”
“Oh.” The teasing smile dropped from Wolf’s face. “What happened?”
“We don’t know. At first I wasn’t all that worried, because she runs out on us all the time. I even thought she might be trying to scare me. Filming me for money or something. But I was wrong...and it was so freaky.”
“Freaky how?”
Leaning over the sink, I gently wrung out the wet bedding. “When we got to the van there was this nasty pig’s head surrounded in a circle of salt.” I paused, my stomach churning. “Oh my gosh, it was so gross! Like someone did something to Mom and then left this crap behind.”
Tears welled in my eyes. No, don’t cry, don’t cry…too late.
“Hey, no waterworks, okay? Think positive. Maybe someone put it there long after your mom left, like a warning not to trespass. Swampers are territorial. Nobody just wanders around in the bayous without stepping on some old dude’s toes. Even though it belongs to the preserve, people have been claiming it as their own for hundreds of years.” He placed a steady hand on my shoulder, infusing me with a feeling of such calm and safety—I closed my eyes and didn't fight it. Allowing myself to relax for the first time in so long.
“Okay,” I said, slowly opening my eyes. “Maybe you’re right.”
River of Bones Page 5