Black Stump Ridge (35 page)

She looked up. Gone was the garage. Gone was the bench. She stared in horror as her father’s face melted away. She tried to pull free, but it held her fast. She tried to scream, but something covered her mouth. The last thing she heard as it pulled her into the pit was the manic screeling of fiddle music.

•

“You cannot defeat me, Diane Raven Feather,”
the young brave said as he stepped from the walled pit. He walked slowly towards her. “
Not this time. The old ways are long gone. You are a woman, less than the dust beneath Red Bear’s moccasins.”

Diane ignored the man and continued her dance. She heard Grandfather Thunder draw closer. In the distance she saw his son, Lightning, as his rising anger flashed across the sky. A hound’s deep baying echoed through the hills. She resisted the urge to redouble her efforts. Haste would hinder. She must maintain the cadence of her ritual.

Something flashed by at the edge of her peripheral vision. One of his tentacles was coiled around Amanda’s waist as it pulled her towards the opening. Diane dared not stop. She had to shut it out of her mind lest it cause her to misstep.

“You give her to me so easily? How weak you are. You don’t even try to save the girl.”

The creature’s laugh grated in Diane’s brain, but she pushed on. She focused on the dance, on the chant, on bringing the grandfathers closer.

“Will you let me have another, then? The man, perhaps? No. I sense something there. I think I shall take the other female. Perhaps a threesome is in order. Would you care to join us and make it a full orgy, Diane? Or, are you too old and dried up?”

Horror welled up inside her at the idea of this thing taking both women but she pushed it away. She could cry later. This thing must be put down. Now. Tonight. She did her best to shut out Betty June’s scream as she continued the ritual.

•

“What’re you fixin’ t’ do there, June Bug?”
Truly asked the wide-eyed girl. “
What’s that you got hidden in yore apron pocket?”

“N-nothin’,” Betty covered the pocket with both hands. “J-jest a poppet, tha’s all.”

“J-jest a poppet, eh? So what was you plannin’ t’do with j-jest a poppet?”

“N-nothin’, ma’m.” Betty June was thirteen, again. Truly stood before her filling the narrow doorframe. Betty stood near the table. Her hands cradled the wax figure behind her. She’d tried to make it look like Billy Joe Trusdell from the other side of the ridge. Instead, it looked like a shiny, gray finger with tumors sprouting on either side.

“N-nothin’, ma’m? Is that what you call it? I call it makin’ a love doll. Yore sweet on this Fred feller, ain’t you?”

“Fred feller? Ah don’ know no Fred feller. This here poppet’s fer Billy Joe.” She pulled the figure from behind her back. Fred Kyle’s face looked up at her from the malformed wax. She dropped it to the floor.

“You cain’t fool Granny, June Bug. Ain’t no good tryin’ an’ you know it.”

“But, it was, Granny. Honest. It’s supposed t’ look like Billy Joe, not this Fred person.” She looked up. Granny looked down at her sadly. The cabin was gone. They were in someone’s yard. She heard another woman’s voice chanting. “What’s goin’ on, Granny? Where we at?”

“We’re right here, child,”
Truly’s face melted and ran. Her arms reached towards Betty but as they did, they changed, became tentacles with claws on the ends. “
An’ Granny jes wants t’ eat you right up!”

The claws ripped into her flesh just below her rib cage. She screamed as she felt herself pulled apart. The last thing she saw was Granny lifting her face out of her torn open belly. Something long, pink, and ropelike dangled from one corner of her masticating maw.

Granny looked at her and smiled, “
Young’uns always taste the sweetest.”

Betty rode her final scream into oblivion.

•

Suddenly, the creature rose from the pit. Once more Fred faced the creature he saw a decade before. Limbs thrashed. The smell of ozone filled the air as the glowing, bulbous shape emerged from the movie image his mind presented the first time. It towered over Diane. It snarled and growled, but she continued to ignore it.

“Leave her alone!” he screamed above the rising tempest.

The creature stopped and looked at him. After a moment it moved towards him.

“What do you want from us?” Fred stood defiant although every bit of him wanted to turn and run.

“I want nothing from you, Childe.”
The creature’s voice was a burbling chuckle inside Fred’s brain. “
I spared you the last time and I will spare you tonight.”

The saliva in Fred’s mouth tasted metallic just before it dried up. “Why?” he croaked.

He heard Levi’s child-like chant inside his head:
“Cuz kin allus helps kin.”

From nowhere a giant green hound lunged past him, up and over Diane, and into the creature. Its jaws snapped closed on the creature’s flesh just below its gaping maw. A single bolt of blue-white lightning brighter than a welder’s torch slammed into the ground at the center of the medicine wheel. It danced for several seconds before retreating to the clouds above. Thunder exploded. Deafened and blinded, Fred felt the concussion lift and toss him backwards into the trees. Unconsciousness wrapped him in a black velvety glove. It pulled him down and down. He saw, heard, and felt no more.

•

Fred stared up at the clear blue sky. Fleecy clouds floated overhead like stately sailing ships from a bygone era. Birdsong filled his ears and the fragrance of growing things flowed through his nostrils.

Then the pain struck.

His back, wrapped around a tree trunk, screamed in agony. His previous wounds now formed an orchestra of aches and throbbing misery. His wet clothes clung to him like an itchy second skin. Insects crawled over and through the soggy fabric.

He pushed himself up until he sat with his back against the tree. The world turned and whirled. His vision tunneled. His stomach lurched from the vertigo. He leaned back and shut his eyes and waited. Would he remain upright or slump into unconsciousness? After several moments his stomach settled. The blackness withdrew leaving him wrapped in a cocoon of agony.

He opened his eyes and looked around. A body lay on the ground to his right. Betty June’s? Diane’s? There seemed to be a large circle of blood and something else beneath her. He decided he didn’t really need to know what it was.

Near the cistern another body lay face down. This one showed no obvious signs of trauma. By the clothing, he knew it was Diane.

The first must be Betty June. He looked to his left. There was no sign of Amanda. He saw no other signs of blood or struggle. Hopefully she’d escaped. Maybe she’d run to Purdie’s.

He tried to stand, but quickly changed his mind. When the earthquake passed and the ground stopped heaving, he crawled on hands and knees to the first body. It was Betty June. Her abdomen looked as if zombies from a George Romero movie had used her for a picnic lunch. Flies buzzed loudly as they took off and landed on her pooled blood and raw tissue. They circled over him, too, as he knelt there beside her. The scene was too much. His stomach lurched. His nose and mouth burned afterwards. He decided he probably was better off without whatever he’d thrown up.

He resumed his journey. Hours later, although it was only minutes, he reached the rock wall. Slowly, carefully, he pulled himself up until he could see the upper surface. Silver marks and designs formed an unbroken circle. She’d succeeded. He hoped that meant that the creature was trapped inside once more. He had no intention of making another trip to East Tennessee. After this, his family could come to him if they wanted to see him.

He looked at Diane’s body as she lay prone on the ground. After a moment he realized that her chest was rising and falling. She was alive. He pushed himself away from the wall and began to crawl. When he reached her, he placed his hand on her back. Yes, she was breathing. Gently he rolled her over. He sat back, stunned at what he saw. The woman lying on the ground before him looked to be at least seventy years old. Deep lines creased her face. Her hair, once shiny black, was now gray and white shot with occasional black strands. Her eyes fluttered open. She looked at him and smiled.

“I sure hope I look better than you do.”

 CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Fred hated hospitals. He hated the smells. He cringed at the sounds. He despised the nurses’ shoes as they squeaked on the tile floor. The PA speakers blared ominous coded messages that only the staff understood. Those voices unnerved him. He sat in the waiting room holding his ball cap in his right hand.

“Mr. Kyle?”

He looked up. A slender woman carrying a few extra pounds looked down at him. The clipboard in her right hand and the strap that ran behind her neck from one earpiece on her Rhinestone eyeglasses to the other told him all he needed to know about her job. She worked in the billing office.

“Here is your insurance card,” she handed him two pieces of plastic, “and your driver’s license. I have a couple of forms to go over with you before you sign them. May I sit here?”

Fred shrugged and looked past her to the double door leading into the bowels of the hospital.

“This form gives us permission…” the woman’s voice droned on like a hovering mosquito as she explained each piece of paper before having him initial or sign or do both as well as date every one. After he signed the last one, the woman stood. She put the forms in precise order under the clip. She took a step and then turned. “Is this your first child, Mr. Kyle?”

He looked up, “What? Oh. Yes. It’s our first. We’ve only been married a few months.”

She reached down and patted his hand. The gesture, while probably meant well, felt a touch condescending to him. The woman’s voice was sticky syrup. “I’m sure everything will be just fine.”

He nodded and looked away, not trusting his voice or his words. Telling her how phony she was would gain him nothing, not even a minor satisfaction. He stared through the heavy plate glass at the rain hitting it and running down in sheets. March might bring spring but it also brought cold, miserable rain to remind everyone that winter’s grip was not completely gone.

“Mr. Kyle?”

Fred turned and then stood up. As Doctor Russell walked towards him Fred again marveled at how young the man seemed. His handshake attested to his fitness. At six feet two inches tall and two hundred pounds, he looked as if he might have played in his college’s defensive backfield at some point, but he denied it. He had a ready smile and warm hazel eyes behind gold-framed glasses.

“How is my wife doing?”

“Mrs. Kyle is relaxed and doing well. She’s about a month early. I had hoped the baby would wait at least another two weeks, but if I’ve learned nothing else, I’ve learned that babies will come when they are ready. We just need to do the best that we can.”

“When can I go up there?”

“You could probably go up there now if you felt you had to. It’s room three-forty-nine.” The doctor smiled. “But, since they’re getting her settled into the room – taking vitals, helping her change, that sort of thing – it might be easier if you wait down here a bit longer.”

“How long?”

“Thirty minutes?”

Fred frowned, but nodded his head. “Okay, Doctor. Thirty minutes.”

“Excellent.” The doctor squeezed his shoulder. “I have a couple of more patients to look in on, and then I’ll visit with you and your wife.”

“Thank you, Dr. Russell.”

The two men shook hands. The doctor turned and headed for the elevator. Fred walked slowly to the window, his hands in his jeans pockets, and stared out at the rain. His mind wandered back to Tennessee.

•

Three days after the ritual, Fred drove down the gravel road and onto the winding track that led to Purdie’s store and the highway beyond. Diane sat beside him although they’d hardly spoken since the morning after the ritual. Although Diane insisted it was hopeless Fred spent two afternoons futilely searching for any trace of Amanda.

“For what it’s worth,” Diane said from the passenger seat, “I’m sorry for your loss. She was a fine young woman.”

Fred silently guided the van down the mountain. His jaws ached from clenching his teeth and holding back his anger. His temples throbbed.

“If it will make you feel better, you can drop me off in either Chattanooga or Knoxville, depending on which way your going. I can catch a flight back to Oklahoma in either city.”

“Nashville.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I’ll take you to Nashville. It’s bigger. You’ll have more flights to pick from.”

“Thank you.”

“No problem.” Suddenly he jammed on the brakes. The van slewed sideways towards the edge of the road, but stopped before going over. “Son of a bitch!”

They both stared in disbelief. Fred found his voice first.

“I thought you said the creature pulled her into the cave.”