The Deadsong (7 page)

His wife hadn’t been too keen about his two week research project away from home since they were expecting a child in February, and because there was still much to be done in order to transform the upstairs guest room into a nursery before the baby came. He had promised to call Elizabeth every night before bed. The university had paid for his lodging at the Bartleby Motel near the Arlo County Archives where he’d be spending most of his time during his stay in Durden, and long-distance phone calls were an added bonus.

The bus had been on the road for almost two hours and he decided to nap before arriving at the bus depot on Highway 7––some place called Avery’s––and try his best to keep an open mind once he got there. Deputy Cooley would take him to the Bartleby to check in and then carry him to the Arlo County Sheriff’s Office to meet Ned Robertson and to discuss their plan of action.

His natural optimism began to recede. If this town gave Sedgewick the heebie jeebies, Alan felt he would be completely susceptible to catching a case of it himself.

8

Dylan was more excited about having to wear a bow-tie. Sure, the free screenings were nice, a super bonus, but there was something about looking formal even if the job description consisted of tearing tickets and helping old ladies find seats once the lights went down and the first reel came to life.

The Hemming Theatre was built in 1914 and had survived the depression, thirty-seven owners, and even the threat of demolition or repurpose after the box office receipts were barely enough to cover maintenance and wages for their already underpaid staff of six. The city council finally passed a budget in the late nineties to restore the theatre to its former glory, installing new light fixtures, repainting the place inside and out, replacing the screen, and even putting in a handicap-accessible ramp from the sidewalk to the front entrance. Nowadays, the theatre thrived on second-run films and concessions, along with support from the local community.

Dylan was particularly pleased to know he’d have his first paycheck next Friday. Larry Dawson, the manager, had gone to school with his mother and thought highly of her, and her son would hopefully be just as polite and well-mannered.

Larry wasn’t disappointed. He already liked Dylan a great deal and immediately put him to work once the first cluster of moviegoers picked their way into the place at a quarter till four.

He recognized nearly everyone. There was Gilbert Langley, the school janitor; Shirley Thompson and Wanda Phillips from Math; and Carl Whatshisname from the hardware store. Dylan remembered seeing Carl when his father needed screws, nails, or other knickknacks. Carl was also involved with some church around here, but Dylan couldn’t think of which one…
That one past Grissom’s Stretch on the main highway, maybe… Dammit, what’s it called…

Sand Mountain Church––a nondescript house of worship with a dead oak out front, twisted up like an arthritic hand. Those folks had a sketchy reputation in town, but that kind of talk usually went in one ear and out the other.

He ripped their tickets with little effort, putting on his most dignified and regal persona. This was easy work and he felt as though he were doing a great service to the community. He was making a difference in the lives of others––at least that illusion was enough to chew on until he cleaned up the spilled popcorn and empty Styrofoam cups and headed home for the night.

He wanted to make a real difference, though. Someday, he’d have his chance.

9

The place was dark and lit like a haunted house. Alternating green, pink, and yellow neon. Beams and lasers pulse and strobe to music laden with heavy bass and sultry vocals. Cheap perfume and cigar smoke.

Duke and Roger liked the place immediately. They recognized Lilly, one of the dancers. She’d graduated from DHS last year and got knocked up by Stan Cunningham. Her belly was swollen and pale like a dead fish caught in the backwater. She had already popped out one kid that practically begged to be fed, but Momma was doing what she could to put food on the table. Shaking her stuff for cash was just one avenue of income and she found it was something she rather enjoyed, even if Stan was a pissed-off grunt who had little to do with her anymore.

They found a table near the stage and dragged up a couple of chairs. This delightful little black hole in Cullman County was appropriately called, well, The Black Hole. It wasn’t the classiest joint within driving distance, but it sure would make for kicks to celebrate Duke’s eighteenth birthday.

The boys showed their shoddy fake IDs to the waitress and they each bought a draft. Duke pulled out a roll of ones and waved Lilly over. He slipped a few into her garter, purely out of the kindness of his heart. When he let go, the garter snapped her thigh, making it jiggle. He didn’t want to do it, but he thought, what the hell, maybe she’ll dance over to the old farts on the right side of the stage and let him have a go at the hotties who would surely come out next. Yeah, he’d wait for the hotties.

The hotties never appeared, but there was one girl who strutted in on red heels and made his blood scream. After careful consideration, Duke mentally knighted her Hottie Red Heels.
Come forth.

Roger ordered another draft and slapped Duke on the back. “That’s the one for me right there.”

“No,” Duke said, pouring down his liquid courage, as if he needed it. “She’s all mine.” He smirked and called her over with a finger.

She got down on her knees and crawled to them. “Hey there, fellas. You got something for me?”

“I do,” Duke said, “if you have something for me.”

He felt a strong hand grip his shoulder. “
I
got something for you,” a voice said behind him. Duke saw it on the hottie’s face. He was in trouble.

Deputy Ron Cooley spun him around. “Hiya, Duke.”

Roger Eakes got up. “Ron, how’s it going? Want a drink?”

“I quit, thanks. You sit down.” Roger did as he was told.

Duke rolled his eyes up at Cooley. “Listen, if you think you’re gonna bust me on something––”

“Like that ID you got there?” Cooley nodded at Duke’s wallet on the table. “Who made that for you? Randall Yates? I hear he’s pretty good.”

Duke stood up and flashed his bullying glare. “You got no jurisdiction here, copper top.”

“Maybe I don’t. How about I call up your folks and tell them where you are? Think they’d like that?”

“You wouldn’t do that.”

“Wanna try me?”

Duke considered head-butting him into the next decade, but chose wisely in favor of his future. He didn’t need to get his ass bopped for running around in a strip shack, regardless of what county it was in. He thought about asking Cooley what he was doing here anyway, but Cooley could make trouble for him if he wanted to. A part of him knew he could make trouble for Cooley as well. The young deputy knew it, too. Nevertheless, Duke and Roger stepped around him and walked out quietly. Hottie Red Heels watched all of this with her chin on her clasped hands, frowning. Once the boys were gone, she said “Thanks, Ron. You gonna make up for the money you ran out of here?”

“Sugar,” Cooley said, licking his finger. “I got you covered.”

She smiled and took the twenty in his hand.

10

Seth Willard was staying up late watching his little brother, Tommy, since their father couldn’t afford a sitter. Their father was a construction foreman who had been single for six months, and now he was up at The Eagle in Durden having dinner with a dental hygienist he’d met during a routine cleaning.

Tommy was seven years old with a fair complexion and a headful of black wavy hair that stood out in a crow’s nest. His father had put him to bed before leaving, but later Tommy had crept downstairs to watch TV with his brother, who always let him watch scary movies. “I want to see the scary parts,” Tommy had said with innocent curiosity. Seth let him, almost with sadistic pleasure. A horror film was on cable––a crew of zombies staggered blindly towards a woman crouched against a headstone. She was screaming. Tommy’s hands jumped to cover his face but he managed a cautionary glance through his open fingers. The TV flickered into white noise and landed on a Scope commercial.

“Hey, I’m missing the scary part!” Tommy said.

“Hold your horses, will ya?” Seth looked at the phone, flexing his toes to the beat of the mouthwash pop jingle. His girlfriend usually called after she closed up the Billy Burger and went home, but she was coming over
tonight. Maybe she stopped off for condoms. Yeah, that’s it. They’d have some time to get down and dirty after Tommy fell asleep and before his father returned from an all-nighter with the tooth tickler.

The zombies were ripping a chunk of meaty flesh from the lady’s neck when the phone rang. Tommy jumped
and threw up an ear-piercing shriek, then latched onto Seth’s thin arm for protection. Seth said “Don’t be such a baby,” and grabbed for the remote, knocking over a glass of milk. It beaded up on the new carpet, but luckily his father had paid a few extra greenbacks for the Scotchgard. Before Seth could say hello, Tommy screamed again. Dragging its long, scaly body through the glob of spilled milk was a snake.

It’s not real. Don’t be such a baby.
Tommy shut his mouth tightly, locking in the horrific sound threatening to escape.

Seth held the phone to his ear, still looking at Tommy, his eyes big as saucers. “What’s the matter with––”

The snake raced up the denim on Seth’s right leg and bit down on his forearm. Seth wailed in horror, but he couldn’t move.

(knock it away kill it get away from it)

He couldn’t. He sat there frozen like an ice sculpture, the coiled phone cord bouncing as the snake bit him again and again, working up around his neck and face. Tommy slid into the floor and scooted back, back, until he was against the soft glow of the TV set. The zombies had ripped into the woman’s guts and were now holding up the long, bloody entrails for the camera to admire before gnawing on them like starved dogs.

Don’t look away. This is the scary part.

He could hear a voice on the phone saying “Seth? Seth, what’s wrong? Is this a joke?” but Seth couldn’t make a noise to indicate just how real it was.

Don’t look away. This is the really scary part. Are you watching?

The phone fell from Seth’s hand and smacked into the wall, springing to its keypad beside the doorway of the kitchen, bobbing up and down like a blood-smeared yo-yo.

Tommy watched as the snake dropped into his brother’s lap and slid silently into the kitchen. The zombies on TV were replaced with an ad for Crisco.
Nothing cooks like Crisco can!

Seth lay still. Blood drained from his arms and neck and onto the carpet. Good thing for the Scotchgard. A fearful silence spread like smoke, filling young Tommy with regret and despair. He sat there in voyeuristic amazement, trying to justify his lack of reaction. But he couldn’t.

I didn’t look away. I saw it. I saw it all. See, I wasn’t a baby, Seth.

Tommy retched and heaved until all his dinner was gone. When Seth’s girlfriend arrived ten minutes later and saw the body––a ghastly scarecrow, the face purple and swollen––she called 9-1-1 but she knew he was already dead. While they waited, Tommy cried in her arms and wished to God he would have said something when he first saw the snake.

But he wouldn’t have seen the scary parts.

11

When Duke unlocked the backdoor and tiptoed across the kitchen, he didn’t expect to see his father sitting in the dark. Not at two in the morning.

“Couldn’t sleep, Dad?”

Ellis said nothing. The ringing in Duke’s ears was almost nauseating against the silence. He hung his head and waited.

“Am I in trouble?”

Ellis shot up from his chair. “You can’t keep behaving like you’re above the rules.”

“It’s my birthday. I wanted to go out and––”

“Even I am not above the rules,” Ellis said, pouring another whiskey. “It seems like no matter what I do, I can’t keep you out of trouble. I got a call from the Sheriff’s Department, Duke.”

Cooley. Oh, I’m gonna get you good for this you no-good copper top.

“So, punishment…” Ellis rapped on the kitchen table with his knuckles. Duke wondered why his dad smelled funny and why he was wearing galoshes.

“Son, come here.”

Duke approached him hesitantly––whiskey on his breath meant his father had the unpredictability of a compassionate bulldog.

“Ellis? Are you down there?” Michelle Pearson called down from upstairs.

“Getting some water,” Ellis replied. “Go on back to bed now.”

Once her footfalls faded away, Ellis resumed his lecture with more clarity. “Son, I don’t mind you having fun. But you have to think about your future. You can do all the things I
wanted
to do when I was your age. You’ll go off to college and play football and meet people who’ll be your  friends for life. These people––these Hemming people––won’t mean anything to you after graduation. Things change, Duke, and you should be thinking about this now. I’m doing everything I can to make sure you succeed and not embarrass yourself. So, please, make an effort from now on.”

“Yes, sir,” Duke said solemnly.

Ellis resigned and wrapped his arms around him, squeezing him as though he might vanish at any moment. “All right, you go on up to bed. Don’t wake your mother.”

Duke nodded. “Dad?”

“Yeah?”

“Have you checked the house?”

“Checked the house?”

“For…snakes,” Duke finished, hoping he didn’t sound too much like a woman.

“Oh, sure,” Ellis said. “I go through the same routine every year. Don’t you worry about a thing, you hear?”

“Loud and clear.” Duke began ascending the stairs and stopped. He turned around. Whatever had been on his mind seemed less important than sleep. He continued up to his room.

Duke closed the door, locked it, and stuffed a towel into the gap between it and the floor. After he undressed and slid between the sheets, the bully mutated into a child. He lay there, exhausted but alert, listening, watching, waiting for something to slither into his room and chomp down on his tasty parts. He had heard what the kids looked like after they were attacked, and he didn’t want his mom or dad finding him looking the same way.
It must be painful,
he thought
, when it happens. Scary, too. I hate snakes. They can’t get in here, can they? Dad said he checked the house, but there might be a crack or a hole somewhere they could crawl through, right? What if there’s one in the closet under my dirty clothes? What if it doesn’t happen tonight and I wake up all right but I get in the shower and while I’m shampooing my hair…