by Chris Neeley
James turned back to Custer, but he had wandered back out into the yard.
A wailing howl climbed the scale again.
"And shut that dog up!" his mother called from the house.
The shoes over the threshold had shut him up but James wasn't going to tell his mother that. That had been one of the things that Aunt Doll had told him. Tennis shoes lying on the threshold would stop a dog from howling, but they wouldn't do much else. James knew his mother didn't believe anything that Aunt Doll had said.
James covered his ears with his hands.
Which one of us? James thought. Which one of the family is doomed?
After the sun went down, Custer stopped his howling.
Seph had not come home for supper.
James stood on the front porch, listening as the crickets started their nightly serenade.
Chloe walked out on the porch and stood beside her son.
"Something wrong, Mom?"
Chloe sighed. "No. I was just wondering when your father would decide that this is where he lives instead of old Matthew's." She patted her son's arm. "I'm going to bed. No sense waiting up." She went into the house, then turned to James. "You ought to be in bed, too. I heard you wheezing this afternoon. You need your rest," she said through the screen door.
"Yes, ma'am," James said. His eyes traveled down the road, hoping to see the headlights of the old truck as it headed for home.
The road was pitched dark.
"What are you really up to, Dad?" James said to the night. He turned and went in the house and up to his room. He'd make it look like he was going to bed.
His Mom didn't need anything else to worry about.
Besides, James had his own worries tonight.
Chapter Four
Anna lay on her bed, where she had plopped down after coming in from the garden, sore from her day's work and dreaming about the babe that would come with the snow. She rested there for hours, listening as the crickets sang on this Monday evening, not wanting to move.
What would she name it?
Seph would have to call it his. It was his. A babe's father has to sing its name or it would be damned to be a bastard child. And a bastard child could be haunted by the demons. A haunted child would be a wild one. Her Momma had said.
She rubbed her stomach absently.
Her Momma had told of a girl bastard child over the Ridge that had never seen her daddy and that child had grown up wild. The horrible stories that her Momma had told about the things that the child had done had given Anna many a nightmare.
Anna's child would not be cursed to such a fate. Her child would be a Mayhew. She would see to it.
Anna stretched her legs. The muscles of her thighs ached with all the stooping in the garden that she had done. They rippled, threatening to cramp. She should draw herself a bath, try to get the aches and pains to settle down.
She crawled from the bed.
Her left thigh bunched like a fist and she hollered out in pain.
She got up and limped in circles on the wood floor, working the cramp out until it felt good enough, released its gripping hold enough, for her to set about drawing a bath.
She hobbled over to the sink, filled the kettle and set it on the stove to heat. Forget about rose petals in the water. What she needed now was hot, steaming water and somebody to rub her back.
She went through all the necessary motions and got the tub in place. She poured one kettle of steaming water in the tub, refilled it, and set it on the stove to heat. She walked out on the porch to wait.
It was a hot night, unusual down here in the Hollow. Being in the crook of Big Hoary and Bobcat Mountains usually made for cool nights, almost like living in a root cellar. The sun didn't penetrate the thickest part of the woods that circled her little patch of land and the coolness of the woods always drifted to her little shack in the evening. But not tonight. The sun had gone over the Ridge more than an hour ago and the sky above the mountain top was glowing a ghastly red.
Anna heard a crow caw in the distance.
She looked down at her belly and smiled. Smoothing her dress across the swell, she couldn't believe how big she was getting. Of course, she'd never been around anyone who was with child, other than animals, to know for sure if she was bigger than she should be. Her Momma had never had another babe after she had been born. Something had gone wrong with her Momma's insides. Anna hoped that this child she was carrying wouldn't be her only one.
Suddenly, she felt a tiny kick under her hand.
Then, another.
Anna smiled and patted her stomach. At least she had the babe now, to keep her company.
Thunder rolled across the mountaintop, a physical thing. Anna looked to the sky.
Black clouds boiled in the sky and the crickets silenced their chirping.
Anna frowned. The sky lit up as swords of lightning fought across the background of dark clouds, clashing against each other, an electric blue-purple.
She went back inside and closed the door on the thunder that threatened to follow her. She drew the ruffled curtains that hung above the sink as the first few drops of rain splattered against the windowpane.
The lid that Anna had placed on top of the kettle started to rattle, telling Anna that the water was boiling.
Thunder rumbled overhead and shook the windowpane.
Anna removed the lid from the kettle and laid it by the sink. Steam rose like a cloud of dragon's breath from the water. Anna grabbed two dishrags and lifted the kettle from the stove. She let out a little grunt. It was heavier that what she had thought. Either that, or it was her over-worked body telling her that she was too tuckered out to be lifting anything, let alone a steaming kettle of water.
She started walking to the tub, minding her step, holding the kettle as far away from her growing stomach as she could.
The rain increased, pounding against the window.
Wind whooshed down the chimney, whistling and stirring up the old ashes that were still in the grate from the last fire.
Anna continued across the floor carrying the kettle. The storm thrashed against the shack. Anna wondered where it had come from. She hadn't seen any sign of a storm. It had come out of nowhere.
Lightning exploded, striking the big oak tree beside the shack. The tree cracked and a foot thick limb separated from the trunk. It fell onto the shack, coming right through the roof.
Anna instantly went to her knees, sending the kettle of steaming water flying.
Pain flared up Anna'a arms and she screamed, not hearing the sound. The explosion had deafened her. The water of the kettle had splashed back over her arms. They glowed, red-hot, up to her elbows. She brought her hands up to her face. Above her, rain poured in the hole in the roof where the limb stuck its head through. The limb had come through and struck the metal bathtub. Anna had been only two feet from it. The tub now lay on its side, the limb across it, the side caved in.
Anna held her burning hands across her chest and rocked back and forth on her knees. Her stomach shook and she knew that she must be moaning in pain.
The storm raged outside, lightning flashing in sheets, battling against the roiling sky.
Anna struggled to get up from her knees without using her hands. She brought one leg up and planted her foot on the wet floor. Her stomach muscles straining, she heaved herself to her feet.
She kept her arms crossed over her chest, her hands shaking with a life of their own and skirted the disaster in the middle of the room. The tree limb had come through the roof, crashed onto the tub, and was braced between the tub and the mantle of the fireplace. Pieces of roof and tree were scattered across the floor. Anna shuffled to the herb cabinet. Thankfully, it had escaped any damage. She had to get something on the burns before her hands would be of no use to her. That was the first thing to do. The roof could wait. The lightning had not set anything on fire. She had to take care of herself first.
Her hearing started to come back. Everything sounded tinny. The
thunder and the wind, the trees lashing against the sides of the shack, all sounded like they were coming from deep inside the metal bathtub.
Anna stood in front of the herb cabinet. Tears formed in her eyes and frustration filled her. How was she going to reach the aloe vera plant that sat on top of the cabinet?
"Wicked."
Anna jerked her head around. Someone had whispered something in her ear. She shook her head. Her ears were still funny.
Carefully, Anna tried to straighten out her arms. She gritted her teeth.
"Wicked girl...wicked."
Anna shook her head again. There isn't anybody here, she told herself. She reached for the plant. She opened her stinging hands and placed them around the pot that held the plant.
Pain slashed across her stomach, cutting her in two.
She doubled over, pulling the plant down. It fell to the floor. She screamed when her burning arms came together around her middle.
"Wicked, witch wicked girl."
"Wicked wicked wicked..."
The voices laughed in Anna's ears as she crashed to the floor. Whispery voices surrounded her, coming on the wind.
Anna rolled onto her side, awash with pain and lying in the rain water that covered the floor.
"The babe," she gasped as another pain shot across her stomach.
Voices shrieked and laughter assaulted her ears as she pulled herself across the wet floor to the bed. A question rolled over and over in her mind. Why hadn't she seen the signs? Something powerful was working strange magic in her shack. Why hadn't she seen it coming? She had been blinded, blinded by the dream of having a babe, blinded by the fact the Seph, no matter how unwilling he might be, would be tied to her forever.
She grasped a fistful of the coverlet that was draped over the bed. The coverlet came off of the bed and landed in a crumpled heap in front of her face. "Oh, Momma," she whimpered.
Laughter rang in her ears again.
She grabbed onto the leg of the bed and started pulling herself up with one hand. Her other hand held her stomach protectively. She stood on legs made of water.
She felt a feeble kick from the babe.
The muscles of her stomach reared up, clenching in labor that wasn't due to happen for another four months.
Anna fell onto the bed.
Water seeped from between her legs.
"Nooo!"
"Wicked, wicked girl...can't have it, can't have him."
Whose voice haunted her? What had she done that had been so wrong?
Anna thrashed in her pain, biting her burning hand until her teeth drew blood.
Seph hadn't acknowledged the babe yet. Her child would be born a bastard child. Her child would be damned.
Anna's world was made of water, pain, and bloody thunder.
She delivered one tiny babe, the storm crashing overhead.
It came into the world to the sounds of thunder, lightning and wind, wind that carried mysterious voices that laughed and jeered as Anna tried desperately to save the small, stillborn child. A child so small, that it almost wasn't there at all.
Anna pressed her mouth to its tiny one and tried to breathe life into the still body, her salty tears mixing with salty blood.
The child was a girl.
It never took a breath.
Anna ignored her pain, her maternal instincts strong, and she bit the umbilical cord with her teeth. She brought the child up to her breast, cradling it in her arms.
She rocked it, her poor child, the child that she had cast spells to make, the child that had not yet been named by its father.
The father of this child would give it his name and a proper burial. Or he would pay.
He would pay dearly.
Anna's mind burned with an insane fever.
All she could think of was that the ancestral book, the book of spells, would now become her bible. Whoever had caused this would pay. Seph would pay. It was his fault, wasn't it? He wouldn't say that the child was his, the child that Anna would call Rose. She rocked the babe.
She gazed down at the tiny face in her arms, not seeing anything but a beautiful babe, not seeing the deformities that had shown that the child was not meant for this world. The babe was not much bigger than her hands.
"Who done this?" Anna mumbled, wrapping a part of the blanket around the babe.
"Ha, ha, ha..." the voices jittered at her.
"Who are you!?" Anna screamed.
"Mommadoll," a chorus whispered in her ear.
***
James was jolted awake.
He sat up in bed and clutched his throat.
His breath whistled out of his lungs and he gasped.
Calm down, he told himself. He snaked his hand to the nightstand, feeling the top, his fingers searching.
There.
His fingers closed around his inhaler.
He took the medicine as deep as he could into his lungs. The mist from the inhaler was cold going down his throat. His throat opened a little and he took another dose. The fist that squeezed his lungs loosened a little and he leaned back against the headboard of his bed and wondered when he had fallen asleep.
He glanced toward the window. Shadowy shapes flashed in the darkness. Then, he heard the wind. It moaned, a chilling voice, through the trees.
He wondered if his father was home yet.
James reclined in his bed, watching the trees rattle in the wind and the storm that raged.
And he waited.
***
Seph drove the old truck over a pot hole in the road, bouncing so hard that his teeth came together. "Damn," he grumbled. He turned the windshield wipers on high.
Sheets of rain washed over the windshield. He felt like he was driving a submarine.
Chloe had better not give him any grief when he got home. He definitely wasn't in the mood for it tonight. It was already late and his head felt like he was already hung over. Driving in the rain wasn't helping, either.
Seph leaned over the steering wheel and wiped his hand across the inside of the windshield. It was fogging up and his defroster had broken down two weeks ago.
He wished that he hadn't drunk so much. His eyes were a bit blurry. He felt the rear of the truck shift on the wet road.
Without any warning, his headlights flashed on something lying across the road, blocking his path. He tapped the brakes.
The truck slid anyway.
Seph tried to get control, finally realizing that the thing in the road was a huge tree limb.
The tires of the truck squawked on the wet road, still sliding.
He was going to hit it.
Seph braced himself against the steering wheel.
The truck crashed into the fallen limb, the front tires jumping up and over it. The back tires jerked the truck to a stop when they met the unyielding wood.
Seph had been thrown forward, then up, when the front tires had jumped the limb. His head had crashed into the roof of the truck and then he had been thrown against the steering wheel when the back tires had hung up on the log.
The truck stalled.
Seph rubbed his hands across his face and then felt the back of his neck. His chest hurt where it had met the steering wheel and he wondered if any of his ribs were broken.
The old truck ticked and hissed its displeasure.
Seph looked out the windshield through the rain.
"Shit."
***
Anna had wrapped the child in an old afghan and had laid it on the bed.
She no longer felt the pain in her arms. She swiped at her tangled hair and made her way to the herb cabinet. She stooped, picking the leaves of the aloe vera out of the rain water that covered the floor, and rubbed the juices of the aloe into her hands, working it in until it disappeared into the skin. Her hands weren't burned as badly as she first thought.
She waded across the floor. She made her way around the ruined bathtub, holding on to the edge of it. Blood trickled down the inside of her thighs, no longer gushing.
Her head felt light, fuzzy.
The rain had stopped. Raindrops dripped off the leaves that still clung to the tree limb that hung through the hole in the roof, making a patter in the water that soaked the floor and was starting to seep down slowly through the cracks between the boards.
Anna made it to the fireplace and ran her hands along the mantle under the tree limb until she came to the book. She pulled it from under the limb and held it to her chest. She sloshed her way across the floor, finding some dry matches by the stove and a candle on the windowsill and lit it. She carried the candle and the book back to the bed with her.
Anna crawled in the bed, scooting beside the babe Rose, and put the candle on the stand beside the bed. "Rose, my dear, we have some work to do," she said softly. Anna opened the book and started turning pages with hands that shook only slightly.
She looked for a spell of vengeance.
***
James sat in bed, listening to the rain drip from the trees.
The rain had come up suddenly, beating on his bedroom window and sieving through the screen. He had got out of the bed long enough to lower the sash so that there was only a small crack to let fresh air in. The storm had pounded against the house for probably a good fifteen minutes. James had heard Fern call out for their mother once, when it had sounded like thunder was going to raze the house to the ground. Right after the huge clash of thunder, the rain had slowed to a drizzle, then stopped.
He adjusted the pillow that cushioned his back.
His mother and sister were talking softly in his sister's bedroom next door, their voices melding into a comforting murmur.
He hadn't heard his father come in yet. He probably wasn't home from Matthew's.
James worried about Fern sometimes. She was fourteen, but sometimes she acted like she was four. Like with the bird in the house. She had wanted to keep it for a pet. She had already talked their father into letting her keep one of the hogs as a pet, a sow that should have went to slaughter long ago. James wished that she would grow up a little.
He listened to the water dripping from the trees. It made a peaceful sound. The crickets started singing again. James took a deep breath. The air smelled of freshness and earthworms.