Slammin' Tree: Part 2
On Friday evening, Dad wanted me to feed Angus. Ben only - NOT ANNY!!! Maybe it was punishment for my poor grades? Maybe it was Dad’s way of shifting blame for his crimes and guilt to me? Pressures of his job? Keeping us safe was his job after all. Especially from Angus.
The supply of fresh meat was the problem–no calendar date of arrival but five days expiration day. Dad’s kindness, if he had any left. Dad was lucky no graves were opened in the cemeteries around Ozark Falls or in Shackle County. Never mind a few mannequins and sandbags for weighting a few of the coffins. Closed caskets, of course. Enough cover for Dad to steal the bodies of individuals who died horrible and tragic deaths: car wrecks, shootings, arson victims, the ones he could get away with stealing. Dad sometimes drove the hearse home when he had a funeral that day. Which was his incognito way of delivering the bodybags to the barn.
A Herculean, yet nerve-wracking task full of guilt and shame. That’s what the task my father bestowed upon me was, for whatever reason. No kid my age should ever be made to carry out that kind of burden. But my willingness to go along with my father’s wishes kept both the peace and the devil in his cave.
Dad and I both grabbed the black body bag from the back of the hearse and carried it a few yards to the quad, under the barn’s garage.
“This is heavier than normal,” I said, propping the head or feet on my right shoulder for support.
“Yeah, I found a stray on my back door. No ID! Nothing. We never saw him,” Dad declared.
“After today, that’s true,” I replied. I loosened my grip on the black, plastic body bag my father and I draped up on the back of the quad.
Dad tied it down with two orange straps to keep it from flopping around and off before I got to the cave.
“Get going, son,” Dad urged with a wave of his arms.
I looked down at the ground in disappointment. “How long are we doing–” my somber voice lingered in the air.
Dad pushed his hands down twice. “Keep your voice down. Your sister’s got her window open,” he said softly. Dad pointed up to Anny’s window.
I shook my head. “She doesn’t know, Dad.”
“Good! Keep it that way! I don’t even talk to your mother about all this.” Dad wagged his finger at my face. “As long as we live here. A mortician by day keeps the monster away. Isn’t that what I always tell you, Ben?”
I didn’t exactly gather a lot of confidence from my dad’s answer to such simple questions. “Sure, Dad. All the time.”
“Right! This is a great place to live, all things considered. We got a great deal on the house. It’s in the country.” Dad turned completely around pointing and smiling at the property like it was some art exhibit in NYC.
“I’d like it better if–” I declared.
Dad ignored me and hustled to a side workbench. “Oh, get your pipe from the barn. You’ll need it.” I shook my head slowly and started up the four-wheeler. After I picked up the steel pipe, I slid it between the straps near the bottom of the back of the four wheeler. A little space near what I assume was the ribcage. Lucky me, right! I looked for every excuse not to do what I had to do. But no such luck. Who could blame me? I felt like the bully in a way. I was not only breaking the law but deeply disrespecting a human corpse.
“The faster you get going, the faster–” Dad yelled from the back porch.
I waved and toed the quad in gear. I didn’t get above five miles per hour riding the trail to the back lots, through the small stream that was almost dry due to lack of rain. The pecan trees on both sides of the creek gave me plenty of shade. The pecan trees provided a straight shot to the woods in the middle of the property. The one path between the main woods was wide enough for one quad at a time. I stopped when I got to the end of the path leading into the main woods where the cave waited at the edge of our property. Small twigs and branches got my shoulder and face as I drove down the piney, darker path to the cave. I had done this on my own for about a year now.
Each time got harder and scarier. I couldn’t stand being in Angus’s presence. He reminded me of a demon from hell. His solid black eyes, no pupils, no hair above his ears anyway. Teeth that were sharper and longer, like a vampire’s teeth. He had to be chewing through human bones. But I didn’t care to know the truth about the bones.
I inched my way forward down the shady, pine trail. Tree limbs jumping out at me, hitting me in the face left and right for several yards. I plowed through the last bit of branches before the cave appeared out of nowhere. I always imagined Angus would be standing in front of the cave, waiting for me. The stuff of nightmares. I swear it felt like crossing over into a different world between the pecan and pine trees. I stopped when I saw the cave but didn’t see Angus. I was relieved but scared at the same time. Where was Angus? Would Angus grab me as a reminder to hurry with his food? Would Angus be glad to see me? Which is equally frightening. I inched forward and parked sideways in case I had to get away quickly. Unstrapped the body bag, and carried it over to the rocks by the cave.
I left the steel pipe on the back of the quad’s cargo rack. Which was a mistake in case I needed to defend myself. I dropped the body in front of the cave, by my feet, where the sunshine and shadows met at the cave entrance. A swift kick of the bag towards the cave and I took a few steps back. “Well, not my problem now,” I whispered. Never leaving sight of the cave, I gripped the steel pipe and backed up to the nearest pine tree.
The slam marks were visible from where I stood as I made my way closer to the tree. The quad was a few yards in front of me. My right hand gripped the pipe and raised it slowly, as I backed away into the shade.
Angus remained in his cave as the bodybag laid in front of the cave, about three or four feet away. Easy snatch and grab and retreat into the darkness.
I took a deep breath before I pointed the pipe all the way to my right, ready to swing.
“Three swings save me. Three swings save my family.” The last few whispers of breath left my lips before I took my mighty swing to the tree, like I was about to walk out to home plate and hit a home run in the Little League World Series. I paused for a moment before either of my feet inched toward the Slammin’ Tree. Another quick breath. “Just get it over with!” Swing one. Swing two. Swing three. Silence. Three knocks loud enough to wake the dead.
“C’mon!! Show yourself you ugly–” I whispered. I crouched down behind the pine tree and watched nervously. I dreaded having to do three more knocks but if I had to, I would. Or I could just sneak up to the quad and take off back home. What if Angus didn’t come out? What happens to the body bag? Did other animals get it?
For some weird reason, I felt the body bag would be safer inside the cave but I wasn’t going to find out. I had no business going on there anyway. Snakes! Danger of falling or breaking my leg.
Angus never came out.
I had a choice to make, with no good outcome–three more knocks or three feet into the cave? I felt like God cursed me or played a real cruel prank on me. I already learned the lesson on my own, without God’s help. I was being tested on a thousand fronts it seemed. School. Jimmy. Angus. Mom’s health problems. Dad’s good graces. I decided to knock three more times and if no answer, I was heading home.
I stood back up and slowly raised the pipe again for round two. Three more knocks rang out. I swung harder and quicker the second time. “Three swings save my family. Three swings save me,” I said again. That phrase gave me a little reassurance. I dropped to the ground, balanced on my right food, pipe in both hands. I hung my head low but tilted in a way that I could both see the cave entrance and appear as if I’m submitting to Angus.
Angus slowly pulled his way up to from behind the big boulder but stopped short of dipping himself into the full sunlight. Just the outline of his body caught my attention. Angus scanned the outside woods from left to right and back again.
I don’t know if he saw me crouch down, pretending to be a short tree stump.
Angus raised his head up towards the top of the cave and took in several quick, shallow breaths. He sounded like he was hyperventilating at first but I suspect the smell of death eased his breathing patterns. His head meandered down at the bodybag just out of reach. Angus stood up slowly and stepped his left leg onto the ground, followed by his right leg. He moved like a large spider climbing down its web. Each move was calculated, almost robotic. Angus scrambled over to the body bag and sniffed it closer, from head to toe or toe to head. He made it to the chest area and grabbed the nearest end. Weirdest thing I’ve ever seen. His right hand drug the body behind him back into the cave, over the boulder and disappeared into the darkness. No way Angus saw me but I stayed still for a few more minutes until I had a good idea Angus was busy feeding.
I quietly pushed past the low tree limbs and snuck up to the quad. Pipe in my left hand. I peered over the seat and expected to see Angus standing back on the rock. I stuffed the pipe into the cargo rack and secured the straps so I don’t lose any of those things. I quietly hopped on the quad and turned the key. I tapped on the gears and took off as fast as I could.
I couldn’t shake the feeling Angus was right on my tail but when I managed to look around, nothing was behind me except dust and dirt. The pipe and straps were still with me. Two minutes later and I skid-stopped the quad under the side shed attached to the barn. I dropped the key into my pocket and put the pipe and straps into a black milk crate sitting on an old work table.
That was the hardest thing I had ever done up to that point. I expected to see my dad waiting for me when I got back but he was inside, out of the April sunshine. My dad’s support and encouragement became few and far between. That shifted over to Anny. I moved towards our house, cautious with every step, until I reached for the screen door and gently tugged. When I came inside, my only thought was to give Dad the key and go straight to my bedroom. Not a word to anyone. My shame followed me like a shadow. Luckily, Anny’s window didn’t face the barn, nor did she see me take off on the quad.
****
Dad and Anny made it home from the hospital before 9 p.m. Mom and I spent the night at the local hospital–mom’s respiratory illness flared up again. Dad stopped at Terry’s Drive Thru on the way home. Dad didn’t do the drive thru with me. That was just a thing for him and Anny. Dad and I didn’t have anything to talk about. He’d probably shoot me if he found out I told our secret on the radio.
“Not just any radio,” DJ DEAD said. “Ghost Radio–99.9–The home for horror in the heart of New Orleans.”
Dad got his usual Jalapenos burger with pepper jack cheese and onion rings. Anny settled for the double grilled cheese sandwich with sliced ham. Side of onion rings. Anny always put the onion rings to her ears, often as a joke to get a laugh from Dad. He told Anny she was too young to be wearing such big earrings.
I was a little worried about her with Dad and everything that happened and him dealing with Mom’s health. My dad didn’t share any weaknesses–only strengths and undeniable belief that our mother would be okay the next day. I never gave it much thought–my thoughts were on my mother.
Dad sat down on the couch and gave his attention to his Jalapeno Burger. Anny sat at the table with one of her books she had to read for school to win prizes and food. Dad flicked the remote to some random crime show - Prison Man, I think.
Anny put her plate in the sink and walked to the couch.
Dad nearly dozed off when Anny sat down on the couch but sprang back to life with his arms falling about like he heard loud thunder outside. “Anny girl, what are you doing silly girl?” Dad asked, yawning.
“Scaring you!” Anny said.
“HA!! You’ve been scaring me since the day you were born–”
“And I’m not stopping any time soon.” Anny giggled.
Dad smiled at Anny before he lifted his hand from the remote he slid over in her direction. “Watch what you want, Anny girl. Dad’s tired.”
“Thanks! I’ll find a Betty Buckley mystery show to watch,” Anny said proudly.
Dad closed his eyes and caressed both sides of his nose. He sprung his head up and immediately turned towards Anny, sitting at the opposite end of the couch. He slightly gazed back and saw a forehead against the edge of the window. He knew it must be Angus peeping in. Dad never expected Angus to venture far away from the cave that he came up to our house.
Angus lifted his forehead and pressed his face closer against the window. Steam from Angus’ breath mushroomed the glass pane like an A-bomb going off. The white puffy eyelids highlighted his black eyes. Angus slowly licked his lips from top to bottom in a circular pattern. His tongue looked like some red strawberry drink swirling down the drain. Angus blinked excessively between each time around his thin lips.
“Ahh shit,” Dad snarled out. “Dammit!”
Angus backed away from the window as quickly as he could.
“What is it–” Anny asked, quickly turning her attention to Dad.
“Stay here!” Dad ordered. He hoped up from the couch like a bolt of lightning during a spring Arkansas thunderstorm.
Anny looked around the living room but quickly laid down on the couch to hide herself. Anny watched Dad get his shotgun from his downstairs office. Anny turned her eyes back to the tv.
Dad added two shells into the barrels and headed out to the front porch. Both the front and back porch lights were on. Dad knew the layout of our property–house, barn, etc., better than anyone. So he didn’t have any problems finding or tracking Angus back to the cave.
Doesn’t matter how long Angus stood at the window or what he saw. The lip licking was all that mattered.
Dad knew what Angus wanted but he wasn’t in the giving mood that night. Except a few shotgun blasts into the night sky. Join the stars!! Dad stormed out of the house quietly. He stepped back over to the left side of the porch stairs and down onto the ground. That side didn’t squeak and pop with every step. Dad paused for a few seconds and looked around the house for any movement. Then he went to the left side of the house. Nothing! Then the right side facing the barn. He stood at the edge of the house, peering around the edge, holding the shotgun towards the lawn.
The front screen door slowly creaked open and Dad whipped his head around to face the door.
“Dad, what’s wrong?” Anny asked, scared as a little kitten with crows flying around.
Dad flung his arm against the side of the house to shoo Anny back inside. “Go on back inside, Anny girl. Now!!!”
Anny backed inside the door and disappeared into the shadows.
Dad trekked forward around the twelve-foot trailer he parked on that side of the house. He stopped at the corner’s edge and peeped around the open back lot, his eyes focused on the windows into the living room. A few tracks on the ground caught his attention as he approached.
Angus easily saw Dad’s every move in the back porch light if he were hidden among the trees, just outside the reach of the light.
Dad turned towards the open field–well into the back side of our farm.
Tense echoes flooded the silence–piercing the rural night ensemble of crickets, frogs, locusts–all croaking heavily loud by the pond and creek, like an orchestra of critters and crawlies.
Dad froze where he stood, trying to hear any leaves or bushes rustling off in the distance by the trees. A few footprints led out towards the trees next to the barn but stopped once they hit the grass. I really don’t want to go down there, not for that damn monster, Dad thought to himself, while the silence took over. Dad swayed around the house and made his way to the left side of the house. The one place he hadn’t checked yet. Dad rounded the corner to the left side of the house. “Nothing here.” He swayed forward to one of the side windows to see what Anny was doing.
Anny was curled up under a blanket on the couch.
Dad turned his last few footsteps to the front of the home. “She’s ok,” Dad said. Dad kept his lap around the house secret from the rest of the family. He didn’t tell me until much later.
The lines were crossed and hell must be dealt and paid the next morning. That’s all Angus needed to do—lick the windows to get his food order placed, like the Proudmoore home was an all-night diner.
Dad gave up on trying to find Angus around the house. He went back inside, locked the doors, closed the curtains and blinds and turned off the porch lights to fortify the house as best he could before he went to bed.
Angus must have seen our neighbor–Dale Crawford’s red, four-door truck coming down the driveway, past our farm, from a safe distance and inched his way to the back window without being noticed.
“Anny girl,” Dad shouted, as he charged into the house. “Anny”—he said calmly. Dad shut and locked the door. Dad had a lot on his mind but feeding the cave creature had no room.
Anny didn’t need to be spooked that night or any night for that matter. Anny peeked up from her blanket quietly and looked up around the room, over the couch.
“Is it safe? Everything okay, Dad?”
“Yeah, yeah!!” Dad said. He rushed to the office to put his shotgun in the cabinet.
Anny sat up, rolled up the blanket and threw it in the middle of the couch.
“Say Anny, it’s—” Dad looked at the clock above the couch. “Almost eleven. Let’s get you up to bed—safest place—” Dad swung his arm towards the stairs.
“Okay, Dad,” Anny said without hesitation. “I’m tired anyway.”
“You can read or watch tv until you fall asleep but stay in—”
“What happened outside?” Anny asked before she placed one foot on the stairs.
“Nothing your Dad couldn’t handle. Didn’t see anything out there. False alarm, Anny girl.” Dad motioned towards the stairs. “Goodnight, sweetie!”
Anny hurried up the stairs, out of sight for the night.
Dad stood over the living room with a strong feeling–a precaution–Angus might wander back to the house during the morning hours as Dad and Anny both slept. Dad needed his sleep but he figured two more hours would give him plenty of sleep for tomorrow morning when they returned to the hospital to bring Mom and I home. Dad stood still in certain dark spots around the house—where shadows hid him to outside eyes. Perfect cover for Dad to see any movement near the windows. Dad didn’t spend long hiding though, as his exhaustion took over and in bed thirty minutes later.