The Tale of the Swamp and the Rose (Parker's Bluff)

by Jake Williams

  Sam laughed. “You weren’t staring at naked classmates or something like that? Or trying to hide behind a shower pole or something?”

  I was sure he could feel me glaring at him even in the pitch black of the camp. “No, I wasn’t. But I gotta admit it was tempting. No, when I was in there I was always in such a panic, always feeling exposed or whatever, that I would try and keep my mind on other things—current events, the latest book I was reading, baseball—”

  Billy whispered, “Baseball should have done the trick, you know absolutely nuthin’ about sports.”

  John added, “A lot of guys think about that kind of stuff when they’re in a...sexually tense spot. Although I can honestly say it never happened to me in a men’s locker room. If I’d been in the girl’s showers then I would have thought about nuclear war, and even that probably wouldn’t have helped.”

  Sam spoke like the clueless sex ed teacher I had in school. “It’s perfectly natural for a young man to have...urges, physical reactions, at inconvenient times. And that baseball trick is something every guy does at some point. I’ve done it when I’m with some hot girl and I don’t want to, you know, too early. But when you’re that age you can sport wood if the wind hits it the right way.”

  “So, anyway, I’m in the shower and trying to think...calming thoughts, and the one thing that could kill all thoughts of sex was the image of Betty Parker.”

  Foster patted me on the head and asked, “Even before you shredded her with a shoulder-held rocket?”

  “She had a creepy edge to her back then, and she always smelled like mothballs and...dried farts. But I realized she was a part of the puzzle, she could help me with the story about Jonas Parker and Elizabeth. I was beginning to think that history was somehow repeating itself, or at least was a fuzzy rerun of itself. I went to the town hall after school and ran into Bucky in the hallway. ‘Did you figure it out, yet, Jason?’

  “My stomach did a few rolls, then I realized which it he was talkin’ about. ‘The costume for the party? Nope. If I had a girl to go with me so I could be the Indian, and she could be Elizabeth, then maybe I could pull it off. But it seems too complex, you know for a party that Ronnie’s throwing. Do you have any other ideas?’

  “He had his thumbs hooked in his pockets and was drumming his other fingers really close to his fly, and it was hard to focus on what he was saying. He said something about the alligator story, but just then I saw Betty turn a corner down the hallway. He saw her too, and pointed. ‘That’s the lady you should talk to you, Jason. Betty knows more about this island’s history than anybody around here. She’ll have some ideas for a costume. And she can finish the tale of swamp witch, although there’s not much else to tell.’ I nodded and took off after her.

  “When the high school was closed and the building was converted into the town hall, a lot of the old school equipment was just left there—the students were assigned to the new school on the mainland and they didn’t need all of the 1950’s crap that was left in the old building. Betty had commandeered several of the old classrooms on the first floor. She turned some of them into a sort of town museum—artifacts from the first few years after the Parkers and Rumpholts were shipwrecked here, oil paintings of local leaders and visiting dignitaries, handcrafted pottery and looms and whatnot. I found her in a room full of cabinets and binders that held tons of musty-smelling paperwork.

  “She hadn’t abandoned her cat eye glasses or beehive-ish hairdo yet, and she was skinny from smokin’ too much. She looked up and saw me and she gave me an odd smile. ‘What brings you in here, Jason? Usually when you’re here you’re following Bucky around like a love-struck school girl.’ That made me cringe a little, I was still kind of in the closet and I didn’t like it when people had me figured out like that. ‘So, why are you in this room? A school research project or something?’

  “I gave her a vague version of what I told Bucky, that I was doing research on Parker’s Bluff legends or ghost stories, whatever was good for a Halloween-themed English paper that was due. ‘Bucky told me to talk to you, he told me some of the Elizabeth Parker story about the Indians and the murders and shi—stuff. And I’ve heard a little about the alligator story but I’m looking for somethin’ spookier, I guess. I just want somethin’ good and scary for...the paper. Like I said, Bucky told me to check with you, and I was just curious about how the old swamp witch story ended. Did Jonas go crazy from his guilt or was there a real ghost, or ghosts, getting revenge?’

  “Betty gave me a hard look, then she turned her upper lip into a curl that she must have thought was a smile. ‘I told Bucky everything I know about that story, so I’m sure he gave you the details.’ She was still working on that odd expression on her face, and I felt like I was watching a clown’s makeup melt. ‘I think ending the story with Jonas going insane would be a good place to leave it. So, that’s all I can really tell you.’

  “She was spookin’ me, but I damn sure knew there was something missin’ from the end of that story. She buried her head in a gigantic leather-bound ledger and was obviously workin’ on ignoring me. I knew exactly what I wanted to ask but it felt a little like shoving my hand into a wasp’s nest. ‘Betty, Mrs. Parker, is that really how it ended? Did somethin’ happen after Jonas went crazy? Isn’t there more to it than that?’

  “She responded with a single stinger instead of a swarm. ‘Like I said, for a child’s school paper that’s all you need. Run along and find Bucky, Jason. I have actual work to do.’ She gave me this evil-ass stare and turned away. I couldn’t figure out why she was gettin’ pissed about an old ghost story.”

  “Maybe,” Sam speculated, “she was having a premonition that you’d be her killer.”

  “At the time I think I decided she was just a mean old bitch, or witch, something like that. I know I didn’t have a premonition that ten years later she’d be aiming a shotgun at my head before I blew her up.”

  Billy let out a low chuckle. “But you gotta admit it’s funny how things turn out.”

  “Yeah, Billy. It’s fuckin’ hysterical. Anyway, I left there for home in a hurry. When I got there my mom was cooking dinner—tofu, raisins, some kind of root, and broccoli stalks.”

  “I’m beginning to understand why you’re so clueless about cooking meat,” Sam commented.

  “Exactly. I told her what I had learned about Jonas, Elizabeth and the brave. I asked her why she’d never threatened me with the witch. ‘It’s just not a Rumpholt family tradition, I guess. Plus, you’ve always been a good kid. I think I remember your father threatening to feed you to a gator occasionally, that usually did the trick.’ ”

  Who’s the Owl?

  “When I pushed her about the rest of the legend, about what happened after the recently murdered began haunting the island, she turned back to her veggie nightmare and shook her head. ‘Like I said, I’m not really an expert at the ghost stories over on the Bluffs. But I think Bucky and Betty are right. If you leave it at the first year they came back as ghosts it should be scary enough. Elizabeth turning into a real witch, the Native American becoming an owl ghost—’

  “That caught my attention. ‘What the hell is an owl ghost?’

  “She shrugged her shoulders. ‘The Parker parents would use the witch to get their kids in line. The ghost of him, though, the little bit I heard of that was more of an adult story—odd whooshing-flapping noises on October nights, scratching on the roof that was probably just tree branches, and pets or farm animals found half-eaten on chilly mornin’s. I think it’s been an unspoken rule that those things are pretty much kept from even the most obnoxious kids. With the owl ghost it’s a little more dangerous, more adult stuff.’ She threw some little shreds of soybean cheese into the skillet and I cringed. ‘I’ve just heard bits and pieces of that—from girls in school, bonfires on the beach, parties in basements, Parker guys that I...dated. Bucky may tell more of the story to you. I don’t really know if he will or won’t, but there have been a lot of police chiefs and c
ops or whatever, on his branch of the Parker family tree. Maybe one of them turned up more of the story. Oh, you know what? I talked to Ty the other day at the grocery store and he mentioned that old story, too. And he didn’t look so good, I’m not sure what’s going on with him and Rose. I just hope it’s not...permanent.’

  “I went up to my room after dinner and dug into my secret stash of Twinkies, cheese puffs and Slim Jims while I waited for my pc to boot up. I actually did have a writing assignment for English, and I thought maybe if I put everything together on paper it might make more sense. I added up all the parts, all the pieces, of this mystery and all it did was make me more convinced that Jonas and Elizabeth might have something to do with the odd shit goin’ on at Ty’s. But one thing that I couldn’t figure out was why or how the two things could happen over three hundred years apart. What triggered everything now, you know?

  “The next day was a Saturday, and I went over to hang out with Pete Parker and his girlfriend, Cindy. I asked Pete what he knew ‘bout the Parker witch story, and all he could say was it was a kid’s story, a local Halloween kind of thing. ‘I remember bits and pieces of it,’ he told me. ‘But compared to the slasher movies in the theaters and on TV it’s really not much of a scary story. Just a witch playing trick or treat.’ It was a warm sunny day, so Pete drove the three of us up to the top of the bluffs. We sat at the base of the sorry attempt of a lighthouse that past Parkers’d tried to build—it really wasn’t much more than a crumbled circular pile of brick and mortar. We smoked a joint and talked about school, about parents, whatever. After a few hours we got bored and hungry, so we rode into town to get some pizza. When we were done eating they headed off one way and I walked backed to my car. When I was in front of the town hall I saw Bucky’s Suburban parked at the curb and walked into the station.

  “He was half-asleep at a desk, leaning back in his chair with his long legs sprawled over the desktop. When he noticed me he yawned and I pictured what he’d look like waking up in his bed, standing up and stretching all those muscles, padding to the bathroom maybe naked, maybe in some boxers—”

  I felt a pebble hit my forehead and jumped a little. Sam warned me, “If you don’t stop these mental porn films about my father I’m going to start describing what I’d like to do to your mother, and I can tell you it will involve chocolate syrup, cucumbers, and some farm animals—”

  “Alright! Okay, Sam. So, when Bucky stands up he gives me a big grin. ‘As much time as you spend here I may have to add you to the town payroll. Maybe make you Assistant Chief of Police—get you a squirt gun, some Ray Bans, maybe a uniform, if they sell ‘em in the kid’s section of Wal-Mart.’

  “I just kind of laughed, but the kid’s clothing joke kind of hurt. ‘I was over here seeing Pete and Cindy.’ I willed myself to be taller and more ripped like all the Parker guys, but I knew it’d never happen. ‘I figured I’d wrap up the computer stuff while I’m on the island, and I had a couple of questions about the witch tale.’

  “A shadow or somethin’ went over his face and he shook his head. ‘There’s really not much else to tell. Jonas left reality in the rear view mirror, plain and simple. He would rattle on about owls and ghosts and crap to anybody who would listen. His second wife up and left him after she found him in the yard yelling at a feather. A few people heard his confession of his plans for Elizabeth and the murders he committed, some people believed him and others didn’t. My grandfather told me that he even showed a few people the dagger used to stop Elizabeth’s heart, and it still had dark stains on the carved ivory handle that may or may not have been blood. One November mornin’ his housekeeper found him dead on the patch of ground and broken branches that used to be Elizabeth’s rose garden.’

  “I asked Bucky if his death was odd, if anything was strange about ol’ Jonas’s passin’. Bucky scratched his head and leaned against the desk as he strapped on his utility belt with his gun and other stuff around his waist. ‘Let’s see, an old crazy guy wanders out on a freezing night and happens to die where the wife he murdered kept her rose bushes. There’s nothin’—wait, there was one other thing my grandfather passed along to me. When they went to move him inside, to let him thaw out so he’d fit in a casket the right way, one of the men noticed some feathers in his right hand. White feathers, like from an owl or hawk, or some other kinda decent-size bird.’

  “I asked him if that was it, if anything else happened after the murderer’s death. Bucky picked up the keys to his police car and shook his head. ‘Not that I remember, Jason. I mean, a few other odd things have happened around Parker’s Bluff, but nuthin’ really related to that story. So, now you don’t need to dig around anymore, you’ve got the whole story. I’m going out to make a quick patrol of the island and then head home to catch the Florida State game. Have a good weekend, Jason.’ He grinned and said, ‘Do yourself a favor and get yourself laid this weekend, son. You’ve been way too serious lately.’ ”

  The Swamp

  “I drove back over the causeway, and as I was passin’ the little parking lot on the mainland end I saw Rose’s car parked there. There were a few more cars sittin’ in the lot this time, the warm sunny weather had drawn some folks out to run and bike on the nature trails. I pulled in at the last minute and slid a little on the gravel and oyster shells. I came close to taking out the Subaru, but at the last minute I slid to a stop. I didn’t see Rose around her car so I started walking down one of the trails, hoping to find her just enjoyin’ the day and not roaming around for anything…else in the swamp.

  “After I got past the first few pines on the trail the sun disappeared and the air turned cooler, muggier. I passed fewer and fewer people the deeper in I went. I kept goin’ until the trail ended in a wide loop. After that I chose a deer path that ran south and deeper into the swamp. There were bogs of cypress trees, scraggly spots of pine, and bushes chewed on by deer or beavers or something. My scent and footsteps must have startled a few animals, every once in a while there’d be a crash when a deer, or a cow or somethin’ would run away—”

  “I don’t believe there are any wild cows in the swamp, Jason.” John commented.

  “Fine, but there were big things crashin’ and splashin’ to get out of my way.”

  “You startled them,” Foster said. “I bet they’d never seen an actual hobbit before.” I tried to pull away from him but he kept me wrapped up in the sleepin’ bag.

  “Funny. So, I kept going deeper into the swamp hoping to find Rose, some kind of clues or something. Where the path the deer had cleared would dip I’d find myself squishing and sliding through slick black mud. I reached a rise in the swamp, a twenty-by-twenty patch of land under some tall old pines. The ground underneath was clear of bushes or weeds, it was a carpet of pine straw with clumps of pine cones crunching under my feet. On the edges of the tiny island there were about five more paths all leadin’ in different directions. It was dead quiet and chillier that far in, and I figured the swamp creatures were sleepin’ or had moved South. It really was spooky quiet, you couldn’t hear a single chipmunk hoppin’ around in the trees.”

  Billy whispered, “Snakes and gators don’t really migrate anywhere, Jason. And I’m not sure that chipmunks live here—”

  “Whatever, the year that we covered animal species and shit in Biology, that was the year I was stalking two lacrosse players who sat in front of me in class, Billy. I barely passed. But the point is that it was still, eerie, this deep in and I had no idea which direction to go. I was sitting there in the pine straw and thinkin’ it was time to go back to the car when I noticed some holes in the ground. They weren’t really big holes, or all that deep. What gave them away were the little mounds of pine straw next to them. I jumped a friggin’ mile when Rose said, ‘Jason, you really shouldn’t be this far out here. You could get lost or ...what are you doing out here?’

  “She was hanging on to a clump of flowers and had a trowel in one hand. ‘I saw your car and thought maybe I’d find you on the nature
trail, Rose. I guess I zoned out or something like that, I hadn’t noticed how far out I came.’

  “She was wearing jeans and hooded sweatshirt. Her hair hung loose around her shoulders, her makeup was a little smudged around her eyes, and as beautiful as she always was I could see a little...difference in her. It was like she had changed, she looked like she could be her mother, her daughter—she looked timeless. Like a portrait someone painted or a pic that had been taken and filtered somehow. She held up the flowers and told me, ‘A little end of the year gathering. I found them out here, I’ve never noticed them before.’ They were tiny red flowers, little versions of roses. ‘They have decent roots, I think maybe if I plant them in the garden now they might come back in the spring.’ She pulled her hood over her head and looked around at the black water and pines. ‘Walk me back to my car, my little Jason. Sometimes it just gets...lonely out here.’ We walked back in silence and when we got to the parking lot she gave me a brief hug. ‘I’m sorry you’re caught up in all of this, Jason. But you’re safe, I promise. And if Ty could just...be at peace with things, he’ll be okay, too. I need for you to do that, Jason. When the time comes, and it’s comin’ fast now, you’ll need to help Ty.’ Before I could ask her what the hell that meant she opened her car door and sat down. As she started the car I could see the little group of dwarf roses and I noticed something else. Tucked in with the flowers were feathers. They were downy white things, large with fuzzy edges. Her car backed away from me and I felt panic and fear and sadness all at the same time.

  “The next day it rained nonstop and I caught up on homework. Despite my obsession with the jocks at the high school I still needed to pass—”

  “You never lost that obsession,” Sam said. “Look at how you hang on to Foster, he’s exactly the kind of guy you stalked in school, I bet.”

  “I get stalked a lot,” Foster said with enough satisfaction to confirm the size of his ego. “Sometimes it’s creepy, but with the chief here it’s a good thing. It’s a happy kind of stalking. And it’s mutual.”