Hauntings (13 page)

Chapter Four

              “Hey, wait for me!” Clara yelled coming out of Sam & Ella's a few paces behind him.

              Oswald stopped in his tracks and waited. Clara almost skipped across the street, she had so much energy. He didn't think he could remember ever being so young. Clara caught up to Oswald and walked right past, opened the door and said. “Well, come on. What are you waiting for?”  She said with a big grin on her face. She seemed to enjoy having an older friend, or more likely she enjoyed irking her parents. Clara held the door as Oswald entered the store. “The bug bombs should be over there by the cleaning supplies along the back wall.”

              Oswald grabbed a cart and went on his search through the little grocery store. Not sure what he would need, not sure whether there would be electricity, running water, or even gas heat, but from what he was told it looked like a good bet there will be insects. Hell maybe mice too. He found the bug bombs and tossed a six pack in the cart. He found rat poison and tossed that in too to be safe. Pine scented cleaner looked like a good bet, paper towels, sponges, a scrub brush, a bottle of bleach just to be sure. That covered the cleaning supplies.

              Aleister must have left some supplies in the cabin the last time he was there. Of course any food left behind would be rotten by now, or eaten by the mice. The more he thought about the cabin, the less he liked the idea. Maybe Ed was right, and he should just turn around and head back to Leicester. Clara surprised him out of his concerns by walking quietly up behind him.

              “Don't forget food. You'll have to have something to eat. An ice chest wouldn't be a bad idea, either.”

              “ I'm beginning to have second thoughts about this.”

              “Oh, don't be silly. It's just an old house. The Dyer's use to come out sometimes in the summer for vacation when their kids were little. There's nothing scary about the place except what the locals did  a couple hundred years ago.”

              “What did they do?”

              “They say they chased them out of town. They say they burned a couple of them before they'd go too.”

              “I thought the Dyers were one of the founding families. What happened?”

              “It all happened so long ago. I'm sure it has gotten exaggerated over the years from one person's telling to the next. I don't believe any of it, except, of course the part about them being driven out. They didn't stay gone though did they? Your friend's parents took possession of the place before I was born, and tried living there, but from what I'm told no one would have anything to do with them and after time they moved away and only came out for a month or two during the summer maybe the fall. They kept pretty much to themselves. I think they even went so far as to buy everything they needed from out of town, so they wouldn't have to come into Dixon for supplies. I used to play in the woods quite a bit when I was younger, I may have seen your friends kids or grand kids. I remember seeing some kids out by the old place, when I yelled hello, they ran off though. Can't say I ever made friends with them, but I would see them playing in the woods by themselves every now and then.”

              “Your parents seem to be so friendly. It's hard to imagine them shunning a family like that.”

              “Oh it happened alright. If my dad found out I got close to one of their kids he'd let me have it good.”

              Oswald found a Styrofoam ice chest and tossed that in his cart, then he tossed some prepackaged baloney, cheese, and a loaf of bread along with a six pack of beer and some chips. Last item to go in was a bag of ice from the freezer near the front door.

              “If you think you've got everything you'll need for the night, we better be going.”

              “What are you getting worried now?”

              “No, but they are Look,” Clara said pointing out the store window. There standing outside of Sam & Ella's were Ed and Freida, watching Oliver's, waiting for Oswald and Clara to leave and be on their way. Oswald wheeled the cart to the check out counter. No one was there  waiting to serve them, but there was a little bell. He tapped the bell.

              “I'll be right with you,” called a voice from somewhere in the store.

              “Hey, Larry, It's me, Clara.”

              “Who's that with you?”

              “Someone I met on the road coming back. He helped me out with some gas and a ride when I needed it.”

              “A good Samaritan eh?” He said stepping behind the counter. “Did you find everything you need?” he asked eying Oswald with a the tinge of distrust obviously reserved for strangers.

              “ I guess I've got enough to see me through the night.”

              “That so?”

              “Oswald is going to be staying in the old Dyer place for awhile. He's a friend of the Dyer's, knows them from back east.” Clara interjected possibly just to get a rise out of Larry.

              “And that's where they should stay! We don't need any of that funny business going on around here. We're good god-fearing people here in Dixon.” Larry's voice was rising and the veins in his neck  were turning a bright red.

              “I'm sure you are.” Oswald replied as softly and reassuringly as he could. Larry took his time ringing up each item of Oswald's purchase.

              “'That comes to forty-eight dollars and twenty- two cents. Coin of the realm if you please, we don't take plastic around here.”

              Oswald opened his wallet and pulled out a fresh fifty dollar bill and handed it to Larry. Larry held it up to the light, examining it closely, as if he never saw one before. Maybe he hadn't, Oswald wondered

              “We've got to get on our way, Larry, My dad won't like it if I don't get back before dark.”

              “What! You're going there too?” Larry asked in disbelief.

              “I'm just showing him the way. I owe him that much for helping me on the road when I needed it.”

              “I suppose you do, if you say so, Clara,” Larry replied handing Oswald a dollar and seventy- eight cents in change. He bagged the items, and Oswald grabbed the bags and carried them out to his car.

              “The Dyer's sure left an impression on the townsfolk around here, didn't they?”

              “I suppose you can say that, but mostly I think it's little minds with too much time and not enough reason.”

              He looked at Clara with new respect, and he could understand now why she left Dixon in the first place. He only questioned why she chose to return.

              “I parked my car behind Sam & Ella's. I'll be right out. You just follow me, and I'll get you there safe and sound,“

              Clara stopped and talked briefly with her father and Freida before walking behind the little clapboard shop.

              When she pulled out , Oswald could see the old Mustang was in better shape than he had thought, at first. Clara must have hosed it down after coming into town. It didn't look like the old beater he thought it was. It looked more like a classic little muscle car from the early eighties that had been well cared for.

              The blue Mustang pulled ahead and paused waiting for Oswald to pullout behind her. He eased the Volvo into the road, and she started off North on Galena Avenue. Oswald was grateful for her driving ahead, leading him at the first turn. Dry cornfields to the left of him,  dry cornfields to the right of him him, dry cornfields ahead and behind. She turned right. There was a road, but he didn't see it, there was no road sign declaring its presence. If Clara wasn't there leading him he would be lost already. She, confident in where she was and where she was going, sped ahead. Oswald uncomfortable at best sped up to keep the blue Mustang in sight. He could see the beginnings of woods up ahead and saw the Mustang turn left into the woods, kicking up dust and gravel from the road. He slowed down and turned, following Clara into the woods. They drove for what seemed like miles. The gravel road gradually faded to dirt, and then faded from a dirt road to a pair of old tire ruts dug into the ground. Brush was hitting both sides of the car with the irritating scraping sound similar to the sound of nails run across a blackboard. There was no way to avoid it. The way was too narrow.  If her Mustang can make it through this, my car can, he mused. He followed her up an embankment and entered what might be called a small clearing. The Mustang stopped. Oswald parked right behind her. He climbed out of his car to see up ahead, nestled among ancient pines, the cabin.

              Clara got out of her car and looked back to Oswald.

              “Well, this is it,” she exclaimed holding an arm out to highlight the the ancient log cabin as if she were Vanna White showcasing the latest prize on the Wheel of Fortune. The main structure appeared to be built by hand centuries ago, log upon log, mud packed in between the logs to keep the wind out. More modern porches had been added later, but even these looked to be in disrepair.

              “Well, he did say it was rustic.” Oswald muttered to himself. He sucked in a deep breath between his teeth, the air was brisk, fresh, and clean. “Maybe it won't be so bad.”

              “Hey, don't let what they said in town spook you. It's just an old cabin, out in the woods, a place to get away from it all and relax,” Oswald found Clara's words reassuring.

              A fallen tree partially blocked the way to the cabin, but that could easily be avoided by walking around the stump side of the tree. The cabin had an open porch running along what Oswald thought must be the south side. This porch overlooked a steep drop into a ravine. There was a partially enclosed porch on the west side of the cabin. Oswald noticed the door to enter the cabin on the partially enclosed porch, facing them.

              Something about this cabin exuded a sense of error. This cabin is wrong on some unspeakable level. Not that it looked wrong, it looked old and neglected, perhaps a window here and there was less than square, but it was an old cabin in the woods, it looked as one would expect, but there was something abhorrent about the place that Oswald simply could not put his finger on. Oswald didn't want to take another step toward the place, but if he didn't go in, where would he go?

              “Are you going to go in , or what?” Clara asked Oswald waking him from his contemplation of the cabin. Oswald's initial abhorrence of the cabin had began to fade when Clara called to him. Oswald tried to see the cabin in his imagination, as it once must have been, warm and inviting. A place to get away from it all, which is, after all,  exactly why he was there.

              He noticed the stone chimney rising above the roof and he began to look forward to getting a fire started to warm the place up, that is of course as long as no birds or bats have taken up residence in the chimney during it's years of disuse.

              He walked around the fallen tree and approached the enclosed porch. Oswald noticed the white curtains divided at the side window. He climbed the step and entered the porch. The door to the cabin was closed, probably locked. Oswald dug in his pockets for the keys. The lock in the door was old fashioned, it looked to fit a skeleton key, he took one from the ring and tried it. It fit loosely in the lock, he jiggled it a bit one way then the next. He felt a little resistance then he heard the bolt slide into the door. Oswald pushed the door and it opened easily. He expected the lace to smell dank and musty, to be covered in dust, with rodent droppings everywhere, but perhaps it was due to the dim light, but it didn't seem all that bad. Clara followed him in.

              “Well, I can see this will take some work to get in shape. Do you want some help cleaning it up?”

              “Actually, it's not as bad as I thought it would be. I think I can take care of this myself.”

              “You have some imagination, don't you. Are you sure, you don't want my help?” Clara asked again.

              “No, you've done enough. I would have never found the place without your help, thats enough for today don't you think?'

              “If you say so. Do you mind if I look around a little bit? I've never been inside before. I've only seen it from the outside and that was when I was a kid trying to see if any ghosts lived in here.”

              “ Go ahead, I'll go get my things and bring them inside.”

              “Are you sure you don't want to set one of your bug bombs off before you bring your stuff in here?”

              “Do you really think it needs it?” Oswald asked unbelieving.

              “It wouldn't hurt, you never know what could be lurking in the walls and floors.”

              “You may be right, I'll get the bug bombs, you can take a quick peek around before I set them off.” Oswald went to his car, found the package of bug bombs and brought into the cabin. He set one on the floor in the kitchen area, another in the living area and one in the bedroom. In the kitchen he noted a trap door in the floor. He thought it must be a root cellar. He went back, lifted the trap door nothing but inky black darkness down there. He took the last bug bomb, squeezed the trigger setting it off and tossed it down the hole and dropped the trapdoor. It slammed shut with a bang.