“She never believed. Michael, belief soaks every edge of your heart, and they sent me for you. Do you recall how sick you used to be?”
“Well, yeah…” Michael looked off to one side, trying to catch glimpses of Cassiel’s body in his peripheral vision. He could make out the tips of Cassiel’s fingers, the broad of his forearm, and, for a fraction of a second, he swore he saw frost white skin.
“I was appointed for your death. However, each time you came close to dying, you would spring back up. Planar transportation takes effort, so I merged my spirit to your psyche. I never planned to stay for long, however here I am. Something has kept my interest in this world.”
“And what’s that?” Michael asked.
“Your land isn’t the Earth I am familiar with. I can’t stay, yet I want to solve more. I have tried to soar the outer reaches, yet I can’t penetrate that wall of rain. As far as I know, this isn’t a planet at all, you walk on non-planar ground. Your location still aligns where it would be, yet it’s not there… am I making any sense?”
“Sure.”
“Imagine a ball. Now cut a hole into the ball, lay that aside. Patch the hole, and what are you left?”
“A fixed ball?”
“A fixed ball and a piece. Your plane is the remains, and your Earth is the ball. The remains are placed on a different plane but are still linked to all other earthly timelines. If I were to transfer a thing from the Earth in a different timeline, it would arrive at that predestined point.
“As far as I can make out, a deity has moved your plane into a neutral realm. The pieces to this puzzle remain within the wall of rain. There is a collective energy amongst higher beings. I sense pressure amidst the energy here that will burst within 4 days.”
Michael looked away from Cassiel and tried to think it over, “Can you stop it?”
“No, it is inevitable, but you are an essential part to bending it towards positive use. That’s why I need you to listen to me, no matter what.”
“What do I do?” Michael was cut short as low tremors rippled the calm water.
A familiar voice formed beach shore waves behind him. “Michael!?” The voice called.
Michael glanced at the waves behind him. In Cassiel’s glow, he saw a towering wave shimmering in the distance. “What do I do!”
“Huh,” Michael opened his eyes. His father stood at the foot of his bed. “Hey, dad.” Michael sprung up.
“Christ, it’s almost 5, I’ve been waitin’ on you for the past 30 minutes. The damn-” His father grunted and closed his eyes, “The darn place can’t open up without me.”
Tensions grew as his father’s grease black car sailed through a sea of fog. They hadn’t bothered to turn on the radio. Michael sat with one hand on his chin, watching trees blur out the side window. The backside of his hands were like rods of ice.
His father broke their silence, “Tank… I’m not mad, I’m sorry if it sounded like it… I’m just frustrated, ya know. I gotta thing to run.”
“I know, dad, I know.” Michael faced forward. As they drove into the front parking lot of Heartland Interior, he looked out into the forest, where he first met Lara and Dian. “Hey, dad, what’s in those woods?”
“Not much, why?”
“Just thinkin’… I remember you gettin’ real angry and such when I went there as if there were wild bears around.”
“I had a worker go in and never come back once.” His father stopped the car but kept himself buckled in. “He set off one mornin’ for a smoke break. It was about an hour later that I started gettin’ suspicious. So I sent another worker in to go after him. They came back sayin’ he was dead. All they found only his helmet floating out in the middle of a pond out there… just don’t go on gettin’ any bright ideas, understand?”
“Yeah, I understand,” a gut feeling told Michael that what his father said wasn’t the full truth. He wasn’t quite sure what, but something was askew.
Michael’s job inside the factory was to walk around, do any small repairs, and report the upkeep of particular sections of the factory. When he was younger, he would awe at the mill’s structure. This childlike bewilderment never faded as he matured. The vast ceiling was barred with fluorescent lights. Clanks and huffs chirped from the branches of ventilation.
His father segregated the mill into stripping and slicing, and within that segregation, there were whites and “others.” Although Peter Brown swore he wasn’t racist, Dian’s father, Charles, and other workers said otherwise. Dian’s father was sturdier and wiser than most of the men in the mill. Charles would usually Have the proper solutions to Michael’s father’s dilemmas. However, Peter would ignore them until someone said it louder and whiter. Peter gifted Charles with the monotonous task of sectioning away the planks of wood.
“Ay, Charles!” Michael said.
“Ay, hey hey, Tank! Comin’ to do ya rounds?
“Somethin’ like that. You heard anything going on in the forest round back?” Michael leaned on a machine’s body. Charles let go of the saw.
“Um… can’t say I remember much of that. Why ya ask?”
“Well, my dad-”
“Oh, here we go! Your old man!” Charles tossed both his hands in the air, in a prayer-like pose.
“My old man told me about some guy who got lost in the wood on a morning smoke break. Somethin’ felt, I don’t know, off bout it. I feel like I would have heard something’ bout it from someone by now.” Charles looked more perplexed than Michael had expected.
“I don’t remember someone walking off round work at all. Come to think of it, I’m a little jealous. We never had a break in the mornin’.”
“That’s a good point, thanks, I gotta get back to workin’.”
“No problem, Tank!” Charles gripped the mechanical saw and began churning at the planks that their conversation damned.
The door to his father’s office was in Michael’s view as he clocked out. Shoot, it was more than the smoke break that was weird. Michael thought, it was what he said!
The memory hovered through his mind.
He specifically asked if I saw anything out there. That’s it! What was I gonna see? There’s somethin’ more than just a random, mornin’ breakin’ worker.
Michael spied his father through the chicken wire glass window of the metal door. Peter reclined in a caramel leather armchair that 10-year-old Michael dreamed of sitting in. Now he felt disgusted looking at the thing. It’s leather sagged with his father, the cotton reeked of cigarettes, and the armrest had a scrape where his father dug his fingernails into.
“Dad, there’s somethin’ I wanted to ask before I clock out,” Michael said as he slipped through the door.
“Oh sure, go on and take a seat,” His father gestured to a plastic chair in front of the desk.
Michael crossed his arms and tucked one leg over the other.
“So I was thinkin’ back to this mornin’.”
“Yeah, and-” Peter leaned in, placing his elbows on the desk.
“You told me that you thought some guy was dead in those woods. Last I checked we ain’t had any breaks in the mornin’ and not much of a death toll either.” Peter retreated back into his chair. Michael smiled. “And I remember you askin’ me, when I was little, if I saw anythin’ out there. I’m sorry for pestering’ you on bout this, but… what was there to see?”
“Whelp.” Peter scratched the scruff of his chin, “Can’t say I remember saying’ that to ya. That man’s death was the reason we stopped runnin’ mornin’ shifts. We got the file if you wanna look…”
“Oh, no no, it’s fine, Pa. I’ll just head on out.” Michael lifted himself from the seat. His father’s voice broke his exit.
“Why do you think I’d lie to ya like that? I’m sorry if I might gotta little mad this mornin’, but it wasn’t anything pertainin’ against my respect for ya.”
“Well, I don’t…” Michael recognized the sad pout in his father’s voice. “Well, hold up… how did all that concrete get on
up there?” Michael watched as his father’s puppy dog eyes undressed into silent sneers.
“How far did ya go in there?” Peter said.
“Far enough,” Michael smiled and let his words rest for a second. “What was the name of that worker you had on file,” He witnessed his father’s character began to crumble.
Michael’s father shot up. KNOCK. “Shit!” Peter prematurely fired, rather than shot out of his chair, banging his knees on the bottom of the desk, sending paperwork spilling on the carpet. “Damn it! Look, just stay away from what this town got…” Michael though he was about to get smacked from the way his father huffed towards him. His fears subsided as his father brushed past him and locked the door. “Michael, you want the truth… I know this town has got some pretty messed up shit, and Yeah! I’ll admit I’d got my hands dirty. I hadda do it. I was only bendin’ the truth to protect ya, I just don’t want you findin’ yourself in a hole you can’t get out of. It ain’t safe anywhere.”
Michael stepped back and folded his arms, “Okay, can I at least know what’s unsafe. What if the town all of a sudden sinks so low it falls apart? How would ya feel then, huh! How would ya feel if one day that ground our house is so high up on suddenly fell with the rest of this town? I’d just wanna know it all goes-?”
“You listen here, Michael Taylor Brown, you don’t want to know what’s out there! It’s hell out there. A hell I ain’t willin’ to put ya through.” Michael could feel the tobacco tang of his father’s breath.
“Pa, we are all gonna die if somethin’ doesn’t get stopped. Either someone has to get their hands dirty to save a few hundred people or no one does anything.”
His father slammed his fist on his hickory desk, “Here! Ya wanna go mess up your life, go for it. Ya want to know all I know? Fine, that concrete was somethin’ we patched up. A big company ordered us to damn that spot up. Me and a few other men cut a path, then we spilled concrete as far as we could. You wonder what made me start goin’ to church? Go look at the ungodly things buried under that concrete. And here-” Peter unhooked himself from their argument and lifted a mug sized wooden box hidden above his locker. “This is the last thing I know. I was gonna pass it down to ya when ya started runnin’ the place, but seeing how impatient your ass is, I’ll give it to ya here!”
Michael skimmed the soft grain on the box. The top had what looked like a simplistic alignment of the planets engraved into it. “What… what is this?”
“It’s the last thing that company handed down to me. They told me it was a last resort. I just took the thing and waved them outta here.” His father returned to the cover of his cluttered desk. “That’s all I know,” Peter held his head in his hands; his eyes were fixed on the flood of papers. The two stood in silence long enough to hear the wall clock’s tick.
“Thanks,” Michael gripped the box. “Lara is picking me up in about 30 minutes, I’ll be back before dark.” His father did not respond as Michael slipped back out.
Side A Track 7
They're All the Same
Lara and Denver roamed New Colombia Drive towards the Heartland Mill and drove into the undeveloped territory around Joselean Springs.
Driving out of town was like exiting a storm cloud. You were in the smog of buildings, then shot out into the clear blue air. Black painted fences glinted like the outlines of waves in a sea of hills. A barn leaned against a tree as if it were a cane. It’s graying wood splintered as it’s decaying back hunched forward.
Lara squinted out the windshield and saw the silhouette of an eagle gliding over her Chevy. A thick wall of woods curtained a half mile of land on both sides of the road.
“So, what did Michael call ya for?” Denver asked.
“It was somethin’ bout meetin’ up with Dian and all of us talkin’ bout what we should do.” Lara said.
“Where are we meetin’ up at then?”
The group unwillingly collected at Joselean Springs First Baptist. Dian suggested they meet together in Deerfields or the Wild Rye Dinner, but Michael insisted they meet in the church. He had a key to the church and knew that the building was as tight and as dead as a bomb shelter.
Once they arrived, Lara spoke to Michael in private as Dian and Denver went inside the church. She explained everything about her date with Johnathan, then paused as she saw Michael failing to piece everything together.
“You remember Johnathan?” Lara asked.
“I don’t think I do?” Michael said while glancing at the gravel parking lot.
“It’s nothing then.” Lara walked towards the church.
“Jesus, Lara are you-”
“It’s nothing.” Lara said as she entered the church’s tall front door.
Michael sat between Lara and Dian along the dark oak pew. Sunlight from the stained-glass windows danced green and orange onto Denver’s face.
“I’m sorry for your all’s loss.” Denver said. He glanced towards the window. “I wish I could relate more but-”
“It’s fine,” Lara said, patting Denvers leg. “We don’t really know how to react either.” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Michael tear up a little. She her words settle.
“I could have done somethin’.” Michael said. “If I had just been there faster.”
“We tried our hardest.” Dain said. “The best thing we can do is work hard and figure things out. She would want that. Right?” Dian smiled at Michael. “So what made you call us all here?”
“Check this out.” He produced a wooden box from his baggy jacket pockets. Michael turned the brass twist-off latch, the case creaked open. Inside the box was a metal key.
“Hold up, lemme see that!” Lara said. Michael handed the key to her on his left. Lara slid a key from her jean pocket and examined the two as if she were a gem inspector. “I have one just like this that I found out in the woods!” She said. “It’s almost the same thing, but some numbers are switched. Mine got vav-237 on it, and this one got vav-373.”
“Y’all think these are connected?” Denver spun Lara’s key in his palm. “They both gotta open up somethin’.”
“I’m not sure?” Michael said. “My father said they were a last resort given to him by some company a while back.”
“Is there any writin’ on the bottom of the box or somethin’?” Lara asked.
“Well, uhh…” Michael examined the underside of the box and found it blank. He looked at the lid and saw the ‘Red Acres Inc.’ engraved on the bottom. “Yeah, it says somethin’ right here.”
“Shit! There’s a truck that comes by and delivers stuff to with the same thing on it.”
“Should we call the police?” Dian asked.
“I don’t think the police will do much.” Lara laughed, “what are we gonna say? ‘Hey y’all, sorry but the town appearers to be run by some weird company could y’all help?’ I doubt they’re gonna do shit.”
“We can do it ourselves,” Michael said. “We are the only people who have a clue as to what’s even goin’ on so we have a head start!” He rattled the key in the wooden box.
“Can we even start?” Lara shook her head. “It’s like searching for a needle in a 15-mile haystack.”
Michael rose out of the pew, “If we ain’t gonna do anythin’, then what has Debbie died for? Huh!”
Lara froze, died for, she thought.
“We gotta do somethin’ if not for our wellbein’ then for her memory.”
“Alright! I’ll do whatever it takes long as you all are comin’ with me,” Lara stood up and gripped her key in her hand.
Dian raised a hand to her chin and thought over the entire thing. “Fine! I’ll ride wherever this crazy train called life takes us.”
“Then I guess I got no choice,” Denver smirked as he stood up.
“It’s settled!” The way Michael put his hands to his sides and made them feel as if he were in one of those presidential speeches on TV—only this time in Technicolor. “I’d say we start huntin’ down in the Elk Horn Woods and see if w
e can find anything over there.” The group was about to stand up but hesitated as Michael spoke. “Before we go anywhere, there’s something I need to say. I wasn’t sure how to bring it up, but.” Michael folded his hands together. “I got what I think is an angel with me.”
“You’re try’na tell us that you got some angel followin’ you? Are y’all hearin’ this?”
“It appeared in my dreams two nights ago. It told me when Debbie was gonna die, and it told me that we were supposed to go upstairs. How do y’all think I knew that? It said we got about a week left before our entire town is gone.” Michael made an exploding gesture with his hands.
Dian stood up, “What if it’s a demon?”
“I know it’s not a-”
“No. You got no clue if it’s a demon in disguise.”
“I know I sound like some insane reverend givin’ an end-time preach-” Michael looked at the space around him for a second. “Poor choice of place, but we can at least do somethin’. Even if it is a demon, it’s still somethin’ and why would a demon try to save her.” He grimaced and looked away. “Debbie coulda’ washed out into the rain. It at least got her somewhere safe. We ain’t going to know what to do, but we can surely figure out how to untangle this mess.”
“So why don’t we just give up and have some fun if we all gonna die soon?” Lara asked.
“I didn’t say we were gonna die, just that the town is gonna go kaput.” Michael made the same exploding gesture with his hands. “All I know is that we can change it into somethin’ good, and we ain’t lettin’ Debbie die without dignity. It’s what… five fifty-eight? Y’all can get all ready and let us say we meet back up at Stone Bowl at eight. I know my dad had buried some secret around there.”
“That works with me.” Lara said. “You two good?” Dian and Denver nodded.
Side B Track 7 “Just me and-”
Harvey knew not where he was going; he left that for the road to decide. He questioned the idea of leaving, but where would all his effort go? He kept the file tucked into the glove box like some pistol of knowledge. The fields of wheat rippled a midnight blue in the moon.
Out There: A Rural Horror Story Page 11