Hauntings (14 page)

              “What was that?” Clara called out from the loft.

              “I just dropped a bomb in the basement. You better get out of here before I set off the other three.” Clara climbed down the ladder and hurried out the door. Oswald stayed behind and set the remaining bug bombs off one by one.

              He came out the door covering his nose and mouth with is hands, coughing from the fumes.

              “So where do you plan on spending the night now?” Clara asked.

              “Here, I may be camping out in my  car for another night, but now, that I'm here, I'm not going anywhere. At least not for the night,” Oswald took another look around the yard, there was a grill standing next to the house.

              “I bet there is some charcoal and lighter fluid around here somewhere. After I've cleaned the place up some, you're invited to come have a cook out with me to help celebrate my freedom.”

              “Your freedom? But you're an adult, not only an adult, but excuse me, you're old. How could you not be free?”

              “Believe me Clara it happens. Maybe not to all of us, but it happens to most of us. What we dream of, if we're lucky enough, skilled enough, or determined enough to get, when we look back we see it was a trap, and we're enslaved by the decision we made in the past. It's not so easy to get free either.”

              “That sounds really depressing. I hope you're wrong about all that, but if this cabin is you're freedom I'm glad you found it.” She smiled at Oswald and he seemed to be genuinely pleased and sincere in what she said. Clara came close to Oswald, considered giving him a hug, thought better of it and put her hand out to shake. Oswald took her hand in his and gave it a hearty shake.

              “You better be on your way. I'm sure your father is worried about you by now.”

              “Oh, he was worried about me as soon as I said I'd show you the way here, but you're right I should be on my way. Are you sure you'll be okay out here tonight?”

              “I camped in my car last night, I'll survive another night.”  Clara let go of Oswald's hand and walked to her car, climbed in behind the wheel and started the engine. She made a three point turn and stopped for a last look before leaving. Clara rolled down the window.

              “Take care of yourself.” She yelled and waved, then drove away in a cloud of dust and leaves thrown up by the Mustangs tires. Oswald watched her go. Soon she was out of sight, hidden by brush, but he could still hear the sound of her engine coming from the woods, but soon that too was gone.

              Oswald decided, he would explore the grounds a little, before deciding whether to sleep in the car or on the porch. He looked around and noted that the cabin was surround by dense woods. The little space that was cleared for this cabin, provided enough space for a skilled driver to turn a car around, but that was about all. The fallen tree in front of the cabin took up quite a bit of what must have been the side yard, back in the day when Aleister Dyer would take his family here for their summer vacations.

              He looked for a path to follow, found one. Oswald decided to follow it a ways and gather some wood for a fire. He hadn't gone far before he realized that the further he went into the woods the darker it became. He was sure part of this was due to the heavy foliage surrounding him, but also it was autumn and the days are not  as long as they were a few short weeks earlier.

              Oswald understood that if he wanted to find his way back before it was too dark to see, he had better turn around and head back now.  He already gathered a good number of dry dead branches, enough for kindling to start a fire at least so he turned to follow the path back to the cabin. In the deepening gloom of night, Oswald struggled to see the path. The brush scratched his hands and arms. He couldn't see the sharp spindly branches until he was upon them. He wondered if he was on a path at all, or simply wandering around in the dark. He hoped he was, at least, pointed in the right direction. He clutched the wood he had gathered to his chest, as if it were some kind of totem warding off the evil spirits that inhabited the night.

              In the distance, he thought he caught a brief flash of light reflected off of metal. He hoped it was moonlight reflected off of his car. Whether it was his car or not, he chose to take his bearings from that brief flash of light, so he could make it home.               Oswald, on some level, understood it was odd to think of the cabin as home. After all, he had never seen it before this day, but somehow it felt like it could be home. The brief glimmer of light was gone, but Oswald believed, he had his bearings. In fact he felt he was being led to the cabin by an inner voice calling him home. Call it intuition, call it a memory from a life once lived, whatever it was Oswald was home. 

              Oswald carried the firewood to the west side of the cabin where he could see the  silver glimmers of the rising moon. There was a fire pit in the clearing, and next to it an Adirondack chair waiting for him just as he knew it would be. Oswald tried to remember back to his days as a boy scout, nothing came back to him, it was too long ago.
This is silly, anyone can start a fire,
he thought then
knelt in front of the fire pit. He scooped up a couple handfuls of dry leaves and lay them in the center of the fire pit, then  arranged the wood into something resembling a teepee. He felt in his pockets for a lighter or some matches, nothing. He remembered something about rubbing two sticks together to start a fire, but he wasn't about to try that if he didn't have to. He walked around the cabin to his car and checked the glove compartment, digging around for a moment or two and felt a small rectangular box, success he had a box of blue diamond matches. While at the car he thought he might as well get the ice chest with his staples from the car before returning to the fire pit.                He carried his treasure trove over the open porch to the fire pit, put the ice chest on the ground, knelt down and struck a match. The match lit brightly into red and blue flame. He held the flame to the dry leaves and they lit. He scooped up some more leaves to feed the small flame and soon he had a cozy fire going. Oswald knew there wasn't enough wood in the pit to keep the fire going through the night, he walked about the clearing grabbing whatever dry wood he could find in the dim flickering light of the small campfire and carried it back to the fire pit.

              Oswald fed the fire with dry branches until he was satisfied. Then he brought the ice chest next to the Adirondack chair and sat down. He opened the chest and made himself a sandwich thick with baloney and cheese, for a moment he wished he thought to buy some mustard, the spicy kind, before he left town, but no matter. He pulled a beer out of the ice chest and popped the top open.  He took big bite of his sandwich then followed it with a gulp of cold beer. Life was good.

Chapter Five

              Oswald awoke from a fitful night's sleep, still sprawled in the Adirondack chair next to the smoking fire pit. He found a stick nearby and poked in the ashes to see if he could find a coal,  something to get a flame going to warm his aching joints. A few glowing embers is all he found. Oswald broke the stick in pieces and tossed it on the pit hoping the pieces would ignite. He eased himself up from the chair, his joints stiff from the cold, He was grateful that this would be his last night sleeping outdoors. Stiff, but standing Oswald slowly made his way to the cabin. He opened the door and smelled the sweet, yet bitter scent of insecticide.

              Sunlight shining through the window highlighted the dust hanging still in the air, cobwebs in every corner and as he suspected there were rodent droppings. In the bright light of the morning sun the cabin didn't look quite as homey as he had thought yesterday afternoon. Oswald searched around looking for something to use to at least begin making the place habitable. He found an old straw broom leaning against the wall in a corner of the kitchen. Oswald wished he could grab a quick cup of coffee , from a donut shop or a gas station before getting to work, but no such luck, not today. 

              He took the broom and began to sweep down the cobwebs hanging from the corners and ceiling.

              “One room at a time,” He said to himself. “One room at a time and it won't be so bad.” He first swept down the ceiling, then the walls then finally the floor. He swept all the gathered dust and refuse out the door, not too concerned about a dustpan, not yet anyway. He opened the kitchen windows to let fresh air in. While cleaning the kitchen Oswald noticed it came equipped with an old fashioned ice box and a sink complete with a hand pump. He opened the door to the ice box and thanked God it was clean and empty. No need to scrape out old moldy left overs from years gone by.

              There were wall outlets here and there, Oswald supposed there must be a generator located nearby somewhere. That generator, he decided, was something he would have to find. The last feature noted was an old cast iron wood stove. He cleaned the stove to the best of his ability and decided that tomorrow morning he would have his coffee even if he had to make it himself on top of that old wood burner.

              When he was satisfied that he did all he could right now in the kitchen he took the broom to the living room. Again, ceilings, walls and finally floor, sweeping cobwebs, dust and rat droppings out the door before opening the windows to allow the air to circulate clearing out the remainder of the insecticide fumes. Oswald went from room to room doing all he could with the broom, then ended by opening windows He found the bathroom and was grateful he wouldn't have to use an outhouse.

              He didn't bother with the root cellar as he had no intention of ever going down there if he could possible avoid it. He assumed the bug bomb he threw down there yesterday did it's job and killed any insects and drove out any rodents, or other critters that were still in habitation there.

              Oswald decided it was time to go to the car and bring in the cleaning supplies he had bought at Oliver's. Leaving the cabin he took a deep breath of fresh air, clearing some of the chemical reek of the bug bombs out of his lungs. He remember the ice chest and the baloney, cheese and bread, and decided to have some breakfast before any more work on the cabin.

              He opened the ice chest and quickly slapped together a sandwich. He sat on the porch floor to eat is breakfast, and gazed out over the ravine, enjoying the view. The sandwich was good, but he wanted a little more variety in his diet than baloney, cheese, and beer. He wolfed the sandwich down, considered washing it down with one of the beers in the ice chest, but decided against it. Oswald took the ice chest inside and left it on the counter. He then went back out to his car grabbed a bag quickly turned around and  returned with his bag of cleaning supplies.

              He found a mop and bucket in the pantry. He took the bucket and poured some of the pine scented cleaner into it, then tried the hand pump at the sink. The pump handle was stiff and at first the pump did not provide any water, but did make a hopeful gurgling noise which encouraged Oswald to pump all the harder. Brackish water came spurting out of the spout, Oswald continued to work the pump until the water looked to be clear. Reaching down he grabbed the bucket and put it into the sink to catch some of the well water. He filled the bucket half full of water. The sink of the pine cleaner and the water inspired him.

              Oswald mopped every floor in the house. He didn't know if the cleaner was good for the ancient wooden floor, or if it would eat a hole in it, but it sure helped the smell of the place and was good for his mood. After mopping, he emptied the dirty water down the kitchen drain. He pumped fresh water into the bucket took a rag and began wiping down the counter top in the kitchen,  the kitchen table, then mantle in the living room, The old kerosene lantern resting on the mantle, the window sills, and last the sink and commode in the bathroom. This time he drained the dirty water from the bucket down the toilet. He put the mop, bucket and broom back in the pantry along with the cleaning supplies bought at Oliver's.

              While there he took quick stock of what was left behind on the pantry shelves. Salt pepper, a cardboard can of oatmeal, some rice a few canned goods. He was sure the rice and oatmeal had to be filled with bugs. Oswald didn't trust any of it. He left the canned goods on the shelves, but the other items he took outside and tossed in the fire pit.  He stopped at his car before making the return trip to the cabin and carried in the things and clothes he had packed from home. He carried it all  to the bedroom and dropped the box on the bed. A small cloud of dust rose from the patchwork quilt covering the bed.

              “Damn and double damn!” Oswald had forgot to check the bed when he was busy cleaning up the house. He took the box off the bed, placed it on the floor and then stripped the bedding. He carried it all outside and shook it to the wind, piece by piece. First the quilt, then the sheets, and mattress pad, finally the pillows and pillow cases. After shaking the dust out of the bedding he draped it all over the railing of the side porch to air out. He considered dragging the mattress outside, but decided he simply was not that ambitious. Instead, he went back inside and flipped the mattress over, as he did he noticed through the springs a metal box under the bed.

              Oswald decided he would take a closer look at the metal box some other time. Now he has more important things to take care of. First of all he wanted to find the generator, and see if it works, second he wanted to gather enough wood to keep the cabin warm during the night and to heat the wood stove so he could have coffee in the morning and something better than baloney for his next meal. That of course requires that he retrace his path and work his way back through the woods and the cornfields to Dixon.      

              Oswald thought the generator couldn't be too far from the cabin so he walked around the cabin looking first at the foundation for any signs of electrical connections going to the house. Nothing. He looked again trying to make sure he didn't miss anything, still nothing. He would look again later, but now he remembered the  kerosene lantern on the mantle.

              “I guess I'll have to add kerosene to my shopping list,” he said to himself as he walked around the cabin one last time. Then the thought struck that perhaps the generator is in the root cellar. It would make sense to have it there, safe from the elements, one wouldn't have to go outside to get it going. As much as he hated the idea of going into the root cellar, he decided he had better take a look. He sooner the better, because he knew he wouldn't consider going down there after dark if he could help it.

              He returned inside, grabbed the flashlight he bought yesterday, inserted two fresh batteries, and lifted the trap door open exposing the black hole in the floor. Oswald propped the trap door open, then peered cautiously into the hole. There was a ladder leading down into the dark  Oswald gingerly tried the first step. It creaked, but it held his weight. He was tempted to take that one step into the darkness back and never look down there again, generator or no generator. But he sucked in his breath and took another step then another, and then another down the ladder until his feet touched the soft dirt floor.

              He had hoped there would be a concrete floor, but no such luck. There was however, to his right a wooden pallet and on the pallet rested a gasoline powered generator. He unscrewed the gas cap and could smell the gasoline fumes rising from the small tank. This generator had a pull start like a lawn mower. Oswald played with the choke, pumped the throttle once or twice then pulled on the cord as hard and as quick as he could. The motor sputtered and moaned, but didn't start. He waited a moment then tried again. It sputtered again. He tried one last time and the motor came to life. A bare incandescent bulb hanging from the low ceiling came on illuminating the cellar. There were a few boxes in one corner, and a circular concrete slab about twelve feet across in the middle of the dirt floor. Oswald assumed that the slab was the cover to the well providing the cabin water. While he had light he took the opportunity to check how much gasoline was in the generator's tank. The tank looked as if it would hold about five gallons, but looking in the tank it looked like what it held could be measured in ounces.

              He shut the generator off. The cellar instantly went black except for the light provided by his flashlight. He hurried up the ladder and out of the cellar. He let the trapdoor slam shut. Pleased with himself, that he found the generator, and that he would have electricity. Oswald was felt smug with his success and his inner fortitude going down into the cellar in the first place.

              Oswald decided, now was the time to try his luck finding his way out of the woods and back into town. He walked to the car, but then decide he had better go back inside and clean himself up and at least change his shirt. He was sure the townsfolk already thought he was a strange duck and were talking about him. No need to let them add that he came to town wearing the same clothes he arrived in, and slept in, and reeking from the days labor. Once back inside the cabin he bathed as quickly as he could in the cold water from the pump and then changed into clean clothes.

              Once he felt he was presentable, he hurried back to the car, eager to get to town and complete his larder, and stock up on those things he forgot yesterday. If the mood stuck, he may even stop at Sam & Ella's for some coffee and a piece of apple pie.

              He started the Volvo and made a frustrating four point turn to get the car facing away from the cabin and onto what passed for a road in the woods. He followed the tire tracks until they  blended into a dirt road, he followed the dirt road until it became gravel, and he followed the gravel road out of the woods. Now it was only a matter of navigating the cornfields back to town. Right or left he wasn't sure. He believed he turned left into the woods so he has to turn right to get back to town. Oswald thought if he remembered correctly he can simply follow this gravel road up to the asphalt road leading to town. After traveling a few miles, throwing up a cloud of gravel dust behind, he reached the asphalt road.
This must be it
he thought and turned left. After passing through several more miles of dry cornfields Oswald recognized the few buildings that made up the small business district of Dixon.

              Oswald parked in front of Sam & Ella's and was about to walk in when he noticed the closed sign hanging in he window. He tried the door anyway, just in case Ed or Freida forgot to turn the sign around, and found the door securely locked.
They're probably not losing much business, being closed for a bit in this town, maybe they close for their lunch break, or perhaps its a local holiday,
he wondered as he strolled across the street to Oliver's.  He approached the grocery store, worrying that it too may be closed. To his relief Oliver's was open.

              He took a shopping cart by the handle and pushed it through the aisles doing some serious shopping. Selecting assorted canned meats, and vegetables, bread, coffee, a coffee pot, milk, rice, sugar onions, potatoes, peppers, pasta, butter, and mac & cheese, along with a few cans of chili, candles, salt and pepper, a case of soda and a case of beer. Last he selected a thick a beef steak. He hoped he could buy a block of dry ice here , but he didn't see any. On his way to the checkout counter he grabbed a few candy bars just in case he would want a treat.

              “I see you're stocking up for the long haul.” Larry said eying Oswald's purchase as he rang them up.

              “Yep, I might just be here to stay.” Oswald replied watching Larry's expression for any reaction. All he saw was a dull eyed stare. “Do you know where I can buy some dry ice?” Oswald asked.

              “Right here of course, we may be small but we carry what you need.”

              “Well, I need a block of dry ice for the ice box at the cabin.”

              “Not much call for it usually, but I keep a stock of it here in the freezer, just in case someone might need some for camping or something. I'll get a block for you after you pay.”

              “Cash in advance for ice eh. Are there many dry ice thieves here about?”