by Sam Torode
“If it’s so hard,” I asked, “is it even worth it?”
“That’s for you to decide.” Craw turned and looked out the window. “For most of my life, I didn’t think it was. My head was full of questions, like yours. And now that I’m finally getting close to the answers, I’m too damn old to do anything about it.”
It finally sank in—any other girl would be as much of a challenge in her own way. But I had never met another girl like Sarah. My choice was clear: find Sarah and face her demon—whether real or imagined—or spend the rest of my life jerking off to French postcards.
I pointed to the closet. “Throw me that pair of pants, please. And a shirt. I can’t go fighting demons in my underwear.”
“Or unarmed, either.” He fished around in his pocket and pulled out a string—a necklace of some sort. At the end was a small bundle of red cloth. “Lucky for you, I’ve got a few tricks in my arsenal—or at least up my arse.”
“What is it?”
“A charm—a talisman to ward off evil powers.”
When he waved it in front of my nose, I knew right away what the bundle contained. “Fish guts?”
“Catfish heart, to be precise. I told you it would come in handy. Nothing kicks the ass of evil like a catfish heart—it’s an old Indian secret. Why, one whiff of this could repel Satan himself.”
“I can see why.” As ridiculous as it seemed, I bowed my head and let Craw tie the string around my neck. He’d been right one too many times. Even if it was a sham, it made sense to use an Indian charm to fight an Indian curse. At the very least, it might dispel Sarah’s fears. That would be miracle enough for me.
With the talisman in place, Craw placed his hand on my head in a ceremonial gesture. Instead of saying a prayer, he recited a poem:
I have read, in some old marvelous tale
Some legend strange and vague,
That a midnight host of spectres pale
Beleaguered the walls of Prague.
Beside the Moldau’s rushing stream,
With the wan moon overhead,
There stood, as in an awful dream,
The army of the dead.
White as a sea-fog, landward bound,
The spectral camp was seen,
And, with a sorrowful, deep sound,
The river flowed between.
The hairs on the back of my neck tingled. The river—that’s where Sarah would be.
But when the old cathedral bell
Proclaimed the morning prayer,
The white pavilions rose and fell
On the alarmed air.
Down the valley fast and far
The troubled army fled;
Up rose the glorious morning star,
The ghastly host was dead.
At the final stanza, Craw’s voice swelled like the ringing cathedral bell itself. I gripped the talisman to my chest.
I buttoned my shirt and slid my legs into the pants one inch at a time, rough denim scraping against raw skin. Craw slapped my back. “I’m proud of you, son.”
I snapped on the Lone Star belt buckle he’d given me. “Time to slay a demon.”
“Almost forgot,” he said. “The demon’s only the first challenge—I haven’t told you what to do once you get the girl’s clothes off.”
“Don’t worry—I’m a fast learner.”
CHAPTER 29
FOR the first time since Easter, I snuck out of the house, grabbed a fishing pole, and headed to the water. Only this time, I was after bigger game than bluegills.
I limped across the yard, dragging my left leg over the dirt. My body ached with each step, but the pain was exhilarating when I thought of Sarah. I even relished the sun searing my neck. What’s a knight’s quest without hardship? Everything good requires sacrifice.
Past the tall cedars, I slid down the bank towards the river. At the water, I bent down and washed the dried blood off my face. I hardly recognized my own reflection—cheeks swollen, arms cut and bruised, shirt soaked with sweat, pants caked with mud. I looked like I’d been wrestling alligators, not trying to win a girl’s heart. But if Craw was right, they were about the same thing.
Rounding the bend, I spotted her on the limestone ledge, sitting with her arms around her knees, holding the rosary Craw had given her. When I called her name, she gasped. “Toby—what the hell are you doing?”
I held up the pole. “A little fishing.”
She dropped the rosary and scurried backwards like a crab. “I told you to stay away.”
“I came to say I’m sorry.” I stopped at the edge of the rock—it was too high for me to climb up. “I’m sorry I’ve been such an ass. I should have listened.”
“You still don’t believe me,” she said. “If you believed, you wouldn’t have come here.”
“I don’t know what I believe. But I trust you.”
She looked out at the water. “If you trust me, then go home.”
“I won’t let you go. Sarah, I’m here to fight for you.” I wrapped my fingers around the talisman. If it radiated any power at all, I needed it now.
“He’ll kill you.”
“Not with this.” I took off the talisman and held it up. “Craw gave it to me—it’s a charm to repel evil spirits.”
Sarah came closer and eyed the red bundle. “It won’t work.”
I passed it up to her. “There’s a catfish heart inside—it’s an old Indian secret.”
She took one sniff and pinched her nose. “You’ve got to be kidding. If you think I’m going to wear this—”
“It’s for me to wear,” I said. “Please—you’ve got to trust me.”
She turned her back to me. “You’ll die.”
“You’re right. I will die—someday. Everybody dies. But some things are worse than dying.”
She bent down and picked up her rosary. “Like what?”
“Like never living at all. Or only half-living.”
She fingered the beads a while, then brushed her thumb over the crucified Jesus. “Dammit, Toby—why won’t you leave me alone?”
I dropped the cane pole and stretched up my arm towards her. “Because I love you. And I know you love me—or at least you did.”
She reached down and pulled me up onto the ledge. At the top, my foot slipped and I tumbled over on top of her. I rolled over to keep from squashing her on the bed of sharp stones and jagged shells. I was already sore as could be—a few more scratches wouldn’t hurt.
There were tears in her eyes, but somehow they didn’t seem as sad as before. I cupped her cheek in my hand. “I want to kiss you, but I’d get blood all over your face.”
“Tobias Henry, you’re the craziest boy I’ve ever met.” She leaned down and kissed my cracked lips anyway, entwining my blood and her spit, my life in hers, braving the wrath of hell.
+ + +
Twenty years before, my father had thrown his life savings down a well, convinced that it was the devil’s money. Now I was bringing it back up in hopes of saving Father’s behind and kicking the devil’s.
Walking to the well, hand in hand with Sarah, I thought about my parents. Back when they first met, were they like Sarah and me? Did Mama ever wear a special red dress? Did Father steal glances down the front? For the first time, I felt terrible for not writing to let them know I’d made it safely. I resolved to send a telegram at the first opportunity, and I imagined how thrilled they’d be to hear about the money.
I knelt down by the splintered boards and dangled my hook over the hole. “There’s a big one down here—just you wait.”
Sarah laughed. “So that’s what the pole’s for. I was afraid you were going to hook me if I tried to run away.”
I started spooling out the line. “Craw gave me the idea. He said he couldn’t have fished me out with a pole—but I figured I could fish out the money.”
The hook hit bottom. My hands trembled as I reeled in the slack. As I swung the hook back and forth, it snagged on stones and caught on clumps of dirt. Then
it grabbed onto something solid. I gave the line a yank to set the hook, sinking it into the tough leather pouch. I reeled slowly, deliberately; if my line scraped against a sharp stone, it would snap. My pole bent and creaked as though I were hauling in a northern pike.
Finally, the satchel came into sight, hanging by its flap. As soon as it was within reach, Sarah grabbed it. “I can’t believe this,” she said, jingling the coins. “It’s so heavy.”
“Looks like the curse is officially broken. Must be the catfish heart.”
Sarah beamed. “Let’s count it.”
“No—I want to savor the moment. Let’s take it to your secret spot.”
“It’s not so secret anymore.”
“I’m sure you’ve got other secrets up your sleeve. Or down your dress.” I didn’t need a beer to feel bold tonight.
She crossed her arms. “Hold your horses, Toby. I’m not taking you there till you put a ring on my finger.”
“Then let’s get married—tonight.”
“The courthouse is closed, silly.”
“Tomorrow morning?”
She only smiled. “Let’s not think about tomorrow. Savor the moment, like you said.”
I’d waited twenty years; one more night wouldn’t hurt—unless Jesus came back. If there was a God, surely he could hold off the Rapture two more nights for my sake.
+ + +
Back at the dinosaur tracks, I gathered some dead wood and started a fire—the one useful skill I’d learned on the road. The sky was deep purple and the air blowing off the river enveloped us in a thick, cool blanket. Fireflies danced over the river, cicadas buzzed across the bank, and a whippoorwill sang in the cedars above. Sarah sat transfigured in the firelight, her face and arms glowing as if illumined from within.
“I know you don’t care about money,” I said. “At least, you didn’t this morning. But there’s more than money in this bag—it’s our future. We can buy a car. A home.”
“This is my home.” Sarah looked into my eyes. “Right here, right now. Wherever you are is home.”
I pulled at the satchel’s rusty latch, and the brittle leather strap broke off in my fingers. Then I lifted the flap, revealing rolls and rolls of tightly wound bills. One by one, I stacked them in a pyramid before the fire; by the time I was done, there were twenty-three rolls on the pile.
I ran my fingers through the coins at the bottom, scooping them up and letting them fall in a shower of tarnished silver and bronze. “Have you ever seen so much money in your life?”
Sarah shook her head, a big smile on her face.
Each roll of bills looked like a short, fat cigar. I held one up and snapped off the twine holding it together. As I peeled it off, the first dollar cracked—then crumbled into pieces.
I peeled another.
Then another.
“No!”
Brown flakes floated through the air like the dead leaves of a Michigan Fall.
Staring speechless at the smothering rubble, I felt like a man watching his house burn down. All of that searching, waiting, trying to fulfill my father’s wish—I couldn’t fathom what I had just lost.
Sarah covered her face. “It’s all my fault. It’s the curse.”
“Please—don’t say that.”
“But your whole journey—for nothing—”
I tossed the butt of my hundred-dollar cigar into the fire. “I found you—that’s something.” I wrapped my arms around her, put my hand under her chin, and lifted Sarah’s face to mine. “You’re worth more than anything.” Our noses touched; her lips brushed against mine.
Then she pushed away. “What’s that smell?”
I pulled off the talisman. “This?” I drew my arm back to toss Craw’s charm into the river, but Sarah stopped me. “It’s not that,” she said, covering her nose. Then I smelled it, too: like a dead animal rotting in the sun. Was it that damn poultice of Craw’s on my ankle? No—the stench seemed to be coming from the fire.
A cloud of thick, black smoke billowed out around us. “Must be an animal fell in the fire,” I said. Sarah started coughing. I fanned my shirt at the flames, but that only made matters worse. Smoke clogged my nose and stung my eyes. Sarah gagged.
In an instant, the fire exploded and flames ripped through the smoke. The blast of white-hot light threw us back against the rock, searing our skin. I rolled on top of Sarah to shield her, then struggled to my feet.
A column of black smoke rose from the flames, towering above us. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, it twisted into the shape of a man’s torso. Flames spiraled up the spectral body, flashing across what seemed to be a broad chest and thick arms. Sarah grabbed my leg.
High above us, a pair of red eyes lit up like burning coals. Streaks of flame revealed a face, bubbling and dripping like melting wax. Sarah screamed. I tore at my collar—where was the talisman?
The Indian stretched out an arm of smoke and flame towards me. As it came closer, the arm twisted into the form of a snake slithering through the air. It coiled in front of my face, singeing my eyebrows with its heat. Sarah held up her rosary. “Don’t you dare touch him!” I squeezed my fist and realized that I’d been holding the talisman all along.
I hurled the catfish heart into the fire and yelled the first thing that came to mind. “Go to hell, you damn blasted son of a bitch!”
The talisman exploded in a great puff of white smoke. A screech pierced the air, and the demon writhed backwards, pulling the snake around his own neck. His waxen face stretched wider and wider, then collapsed in on itself. He sputtered, wheezed, hissed, and finally sank into the flames, vanquished.
As the white smoke flushed the black smoke away, our fire died down to its original size. The only sign of our battle was a curled strip of snakeskin sizzling on the ground by my feet. Sarah picked up the charred skin with a stick and tossed it into the river. Both dazed, we watched the demon’s last remains dissolve to dust and float away.
Sarah put her arm around my waist. “Where’d you learn to cuss like that?”
I blew the ashes off her shoulder. “From my mama.”
“I can’t wait to meet her.”
For what seemed like an eternity, we stood there watching the water ripple by. Then I felt something swell up inside me. No, not in that part of me—though I was swelling down there, too. I felt like a child on Christmas morning, my chest about to burst with excitement. Sarah was my gift—the best gift imaginable—and I needed someone to thank.
I pressed my cheek against Sarah’s hair, closed my eyes, and—for the first time in months—I prayed. “If you’re up there, thank you. Please grant us many years together under the same roof. And while you’re at it, maybe even a baby.”
When I opened my eyes, Sarah looked up and whispered. “Six babies.”
Did I really know what I was getting myself into?
CHAPTER 30
FATHER’S money wasn’t a total loss. There was almost ten dollars in coins at the bottom of the satchel—just enough to buy two golden bands at the pawn shop.
Sarah was hesitant about the idea of a courthouse wedding. “It doesn’t seem real if it’s not in a church.”
“The Bible says that the body is the temple of the Holy Spirit. That means wherever you are, there’s my church. You’re a cathedral.” She smiled and let me carry her up the courthouse steps. For once, my Scripture knowledge came in handy.
Half an hour later, we were pronounced man and wife. Some people put more effort and money into the wedding day than they do into the marriage itself, then it’s all downhill from there. I was happy for a simple start; things could only get better.
On the way out of town, I stopped by Western Union and sent a telegram to my parents:
MRS. ADA HENRY
REMUS MICHIGAN
=I AM ALIVE= TELL FATHER MONEY WAS ALL ROTTEN=COMING HOME SOON I HOPE=WILL THINK OF SOMETHING=
=TOBIAS=
=PS GOOD NEWS I AM MARRIED TODAY=DO NOT WORRY SHE IS BAPTIST=
I l
eft off the Catholic part. What Father didn’t know couldn’t hurt him.
Back at the Henry farm, everyone was surprised and thrilled by our announcement. Uncle Will threw his hat up in the air and ye-hawed, while Aunt Millie bawled and blubbered as if I was her own son.
I was worried how she’d react, but even Sarah’s mama was happy. “I thought this day would never come,” she kept saying. She hugged and kissed me and said I’d make a wonderful son-in-law, but I could tell she wasn’t as excited about me as she was about her grandchildren-to-be.
I knocked on Craw’s shed, but there was no answer. Inside, on his mattress, he’d left one last gift: a little brown jar labeled “Catfish Liver Salve.” Was this Craw’s idea of a wedding present? There was a note in his own handwriting:
Cures warts, goiters, liver spots, and scales over the eyes caused by bird droppings. Apply directly to affected area and rinse with warm water. Repeat three times.