Thing Bailiwick Page 8

  There was a guttural grunt by his left ear and he felt his sanity slip a notch. The shivers coursed down his spine, even as a warm sensation did down his leg. Perspiration was flowing freely as well, despite the chilly breeze. It was trickling down his back and thighs, trailing down his face to mingle with his newfound tears.

  He was swaying, his legs on the verge of folding. He was reminded strangely of the accordion legs of the grinning pumpkins that his fourth grade teacher used to hang all over the classroom during Halloween. Mrs. Perry died her hair blonde and wore a ton of make-up and she loved to decorate and she loved accordion appendages. Accordion-armed and legged Santas for Christmas, accordion-armed and legged hearts for Valentine’s Day, accordion-armed and legged leprechauns for St. Patrick’s Day, accordion-armed and legged bunnies for—

  A tongue lapped him on his neck just below his left ear, and his body convulsed as its foul breath assaulted him.

  He had only one bullet left.

  Bowing his head, he put the gun to his temple.

  The thing previously known as Tyrone began to squeal, high, ear-piercing shrills that burst his left eardrum instantly.

  A burrowing snake slithered over his foot and into his pant-leg, and began to wriggle its way up his leg…and his sphincter muscles tightened at the thought of it entering the first hole it encountered.

  “Forgive me!” he screamed, then nearly lost his grip on the gun as a giant rubbery leech struck him square in the face and suctioned on.

  His last thought was of his Nanna Elma, before he pulled the trigger…

  “I did so enjoy this morning’s sermon, Reverend,” Mama Johnson said as she shuffled around the table toting the steaming teapot. “You do surely have a knack. Most surely.”

  Blinking his eyes back into focus, he looked to his teacup. It was empty, and he’d eaten two of his cookies.

  A hint of cinnamon wafted to him as she leaned in to refresh his cup of tea. “Why, thank you, ma’am,” he replied graciously. “I do my best to relay the Lord’s message.”

  “My, my, handsome and humble,” she said as she made her way back around to her own seat. Her gnarled hands were amazingly steady as she poured the hot liquid into her own porcelain cup. “I ain’t never heard no one speak like you do. Not in all my long years.” Leaning across the table, she patted his hand. “It’s a God-given gift, young man.”

  He smiled as he brought the cup to his lips, blowing gently before sipping. He’d heard this many times over the last ten years, and from many high-powered people. But coming from Mama Johnson, it was the utmost of compliments.

  “I’m glad to see, with all your speakin’ engagements, you still gots time for a wrinkled ole granny.”

  “Oh now, you know I always make time for my favorite lady,” he chuckled.

  Throwing her head back, she howled with abandon and thumped the table till the china rattled. “You’s the smoothest talker, I do swear, Reverend. I was a few years younger, you’d be in a heap a trouble,” she warned with a wink. “Yes sir, you surely would.”

  He grinned as he chewed, shaking his head. She was entirely incorrigible. If she didn’t have the blackest face on earth, he’d certainly catch her blushing. He watched her as they conversed, observing the girlish mannerisms, the coquettish fluttering of eyelashes, the giggling. She slurped her tea and gobbled her cookies. She spoke with her mouth full and then brushed the cookie crumbs from her chest onto the floor. A child. A child veiled in the body of an ancient woman.

  Sometime later, after all the small talk was over and the cookies devoured, he shrugged on his coat and paused at the front door to grasp her hand in his own. As always, he leaned down to give her a peck on the cheek.

  He no longer smelled cinnamon. Now her bouquet was of gingerbread and something spicy like cloves.

  “Oh my, you are such a sweet thang, I do swear,” she said, smoothing the wrinkles from her housedress and rearranging the hairpins in the frizzy bun at the nape of her neck. “Ain’t many these days, you know, would show such graciousness to a lonely ole lady like myself. You really turned out to be a right fine gentleman, you surely did.”

  “Thank you, Mama Johnson,” he said, patting her hand tenderly and smiling down into crinkly, timeless eyes that sparkled like cold, hard diamonds. As always, he felt his neck swivel toward the hall on the other side of the living room, felt the fine sheen of perspiration pop up along his brow, felt the round scar at his right temple begin to throb. And, as on every previous occasion, he had the unsavory urge to go and check if those red pumps were still sitting there in between the old-lady shoes and the Terri-cloth slippers.

  “You can turn loose a your bat now, Dinger.”

  His heart began to sputter. “What was that?” he asked, turning his good ear to her.

  “I said, don’t forget your hat now, dear. And come see me again, real soon. I do love company, you know. Hardly ever get none, no more. A lady such as myself, gettin’ on in years, needs a drop-by every now and then to keep me on my game.” She grinned, giving his hand a few last loving pats.

  “I will, I will, Mama Johnson. Thanks again. Thanks again for everything,” he said, squeezing her hand warmly. The cloves were gone. Now the faint scent of lilacs was upon her. Her razzle dazzle smile was beaming and her diamond eyes were sparkling as she shut the door.

  Placing his derby on his head and pulling up the coat’s collar, he meandered down the front walk, taking in the mums, gladiolas, roses, carnations, daisies, pansies, tulips, and poinsettias that lined the way. Those were the ones he could put names to. There were many more he couldn’t. And in the tallest reaches of the trees, too.

  Turning onto the sidewalk, he shielded his eyes and craned his head back, wondering how she’d gotten the flowers to the very tips of the tallest branches.

  He didn’t notice the two young men coming up behind him, until one slammed into his shoulder in passing, nearly bowling him over.

  “Watch it, man, shit!” the boy spat over his shoulder as they continued on.

  He watched them saunter away, two young men wearing loose fitting jackets and jeans sagging half-way down their asses, walking with that bounce in their step that spelled out trouble.

  Catching movement from the corner of his eye, he turned to the window and raised his arm in one final farewell, and watched her craggy face erupt into a fresh array of predestined fissures as her bright white chompers revealed themselves. She waggled her fingers at him before letting the curtain fall back into place.

  He studied her outline through the sheer lacy curtains. He would talk to her about those curtains on the next visit. You could see right through them. Draw in every no-do-gooder in the neighborhood wanting to know if there was anything worth stealing in there. An elderly lady such as herself should take a few more precautions. One could never be too—

  There was something wrong in the eye area—something about the shadows—too dark—too deep, like cavernous craters.

  He shook his head. Hell, Mama Johnson didn’t need no advice. She was on top of her game. A goddamned all-star. She threw the best damned curveballs he’d ever seen.

  Pulling his coat tighter about himself, he continued on his way.

  ▪

  ▪

  The Initiation

  (Thing in the Woods)

  “Keep your head down and your eyes open,” Ricky whispered breathlessly. “Move it, soldier! Move, move, move, move!”

  Sticking close to Ricky’s heels, Ted followed his lead, leaping over branches and hurtling over brambles as he snaked his way silently through woods.

  Dropping down to bellies, they crawled the last few yards.

  Lying side by side, they peeked through the bushes. “Shhh,” Ricky warned, “enemy approaching. I’ll wait for your signal, Kelsey. Don’t you give it till you see the whites of his eyes, got it?”

  “Sir, yes sir.”

  “And contain your canine, would ya,” he huffed, shoving away the canine sniffing at his ear. />
  Ted grabbed Snoop, pulling him close, and he wagged his tail and licked his cheek. The enemy was close. He could hear him nervously whistling a tune as he came up the wooded path, and Rick’s smile was growing wider the nearer the whistling got.

  Ted nibbled his lip. This kind of ambush didn’t sit well with him. Hand to hand combat was more his style. A sneak attack seemed cowardice. “Maybe this isn’t such a—”

  “Shhh!” Rick warned, throwing up a hand. “Shh, shh, shh! Steady, Teddy.” His eyes popped wide, and he quickly clapped a hand over his mouth to stifle the giggles.

  He instantly sobered as a pair of gaudy red sneakers rounded the bend. “Shhh!”

  Ted shifted to get a better view. At the sight of the flopping gray shoestrings and the jeans bunched up around his ankles like they were on the verge of falling down, the thought of aborting the mission surfaced yet again. The poor guy didn’t know what was about to hit him. He didn’t stand a chance.

  But it was too late. The ball was in motion. He was committed.

  Putting up his hand, he prepared to give the signal.

  When the timing was right, he dropped his hand, and Ricky tugged sharply on the rope he’d tied to a tree on the opposite side of the path, catching their mark in mid-stride. There was a startled exclamation and then a loud grunt as he hit the ground hard.

  “Enemy down! Enemy down!” Ricky bellowed. Jumping up, he pushed through the bushes to stand over the “enemy” sprawled on his back. His shirt was up, exposing a white jelly-belly, and there was a bewildered expression on his beet-red face.

  “Holy shit! That was totally friggin’ awesome!” Ricky brayed, slapping Ted on the back when he came up to stand beside him. “Oh, man,” he wheezed, doubling over to rest his hands on his knees. “I almost lost it when I said “steady, Teddy”. I almost lost it, Kelsey. Almost effed up the mission. Almost missed him going down like a ton of friggin’ bricks. I ain’t never seen nobody go down like that! You see that! You see that, Steady Teddy? I swear that must’ve measured at least 6.0 on the ole Richter.” Straightening, he pulled in a deep breath and propped his hands on his hips. “Well, what d’ya think, private, take him hostage or execute him on the spot?”

  Ted felt a rush of guilt. How Ricky had ever talked him into going along with such a stupid prank, he didn’t know. To add insult to injury, Snoop was lapping the kid all over his now practically purple face.

  “Jerkoff!” Kenny snapped. Pushing Snoop aside, he rolled to his stomach and pushed to hands and knees with a huff.

  “Hey, fatboy!” Ricky sneered and, putting one foot on his broad butt, gave him a shove that sent him sprawling all over again. “Watch who you’re callin’ a jerkoff, lard-ass.”

  “Cut it out!” Kenny whined. Pushing back to hands and knees, he began to spit dirt.

  “Give it a break, Rick,” Ted said, stepping up to offer a hand. Heaving Kenny back to his feet, he then watched as he stood angrily brushing the dirt from his jeans.

  “Pull your pants up, dopey,” Ricky ordered. “Your friggin’ ass is hangin’ out. What are you, a gayboy?”

  “Shut up! I hurt my wrist,” Kenny whined. “And I think I twisted my damn ankle.” Bending over, he went to rub it, then quickly diverted to his knee when he realized he couldn’t reach.

  “Wham! Right on his ass. You see that, Tedster? Was that cherry, or what?”

  Kenny hiked his pants up and tried to square his jaw, a difficult feat with a face so round. “If you’re gonna be like this, I don’t wanna see the damn fort. Who needs this kind of abuse?”

  “What’s wrong, fatboy?” Ricky jeered. “Can’t ya take a joke?”

  “I’m not fat!” Kenny protested. “I’m just…big-boned.”

  Jabbing a hand out, Ricky grabbed a roll of flab still poking from beneath Kenny’s shirt. “This don’t look like no bone to me,” he laughed, giving it a jiggle.

  “Criminy!” Kenny snapped, yanking down his shirt and kicking at a stone. “To think I was gonna share my smokes with you guys.”

  “What?” Ricky asked, turning suddenly serious. “You got smokes? Let’s see ‘em.”

  With a pert grin, Kenny pulled a pack of Marlboros from his shirt pocket and waggled it in front of Ricky’s face.

  “Awesome, dude,” Ricky said. Snatching the pack, he patted out a cigarette like a pro and held it under his nose to inhale deeply. “I knew there was some reason I liked you, lardo. You’re alright. We may let you join the team, yet.”

  “I’m more than alright. Those are my old man’s. He finds out I swiped those, my ass is grass,” he said, hiking up his pants and looking mighty proud of his bold gesture in the name of friendship.

  “That’s my man,” Ricky said, pounding him solidly on the shoulder. “Give me some matches so’s I can light this baby up.”

  “Matches?”

  “Yeah, man, come on, come on,” Ricky mumbled past the bobbing cigarette, snapping his fingers impatiently.

  “Matches?” Kenny repeated numbly.

  Ricky’s face dropped. “Oh, brother, are you friggin’ kiddin’ me,” he moaned, his eyes rolling.

  “I…I guess I kinda forgot.”

  “I guess I kinda forgot,” Rick mimicked in a high girlish voice. “I guess I kinda forgot. What are you, a moron?” he said, giving Kenny a shove on the shoulder. “What the hell good are smokes without matches, butt wipe?”

  Throwing the cigarette to the dirt path, he ground it in with his sneaker.

  “There’s matches at the fort,” Ted reminded him.

  “Yeah, well, I’m still contemplating whether or not he’s worthy. We don’t let no morons in. No morons allowed. No sissies, no pansy-assed fatboys neither. Ain’t that right, Tedster?

  “I may be fat,” Kenny admitted, “but I ain’t no pansy and I ain’t no moron. If I was, you wouldn’t be gettin’ no B in Algebra, would ya?”

  Ricky stood glaring at Kenny, trying to intimidate him, but to Ted’s surprise, Kenny stood his ground.

  The scowl on Ricky’s face softened. “Whatever,” he said, tucking the pack of Marlboros into his own shirt pocket. “I guess we’ll let this little lapse in mentality slide this time, right, Steady Teddy?”

  “So, do I get to see it or what?” Kenny asked, hiking up his pants and wiping at a drop of sweat that trickled down his temple.

  “What do you think, Tedster? Should we give him the grand tour? Can he be trusted?”

  Ted shrugged. “Sure. What the hey.”

  Ricky narrowed his eyes. “If we show you, you have to swear to secrecy. You blab one word, you’ll have to pay the consequences, understand? We don’t want no girls nosin’ around. Especially them bow-wow sisters you got livin’ next door,” he said with a sour grimace. “I swear I seen one of ‘em scratching fleas the other day,” he stated matter-of-factly, before projecting a thin stream of spittle to the path at his feet.

  “I won’t blab.”

  “Swear it. Swear it on your mother’s life.”

  “My mother’s dead.”

  “Oh yeah, right. Your father’s life then.”

  “Cross my heart and hope to die, stick a needle in my eye.”

  “Oh, how sweet. Stick a needle in my eye,” Ricky mimicked. “Stick a needle in my eye. Ain’t that sweet, Kelsey?”

  Throwing out a fist, Ricky snatched the front of Kenny’s shirt, pulling him close. “I’ll do more than stick a friggin’ needle in your eye if you blab, blubberbelly. You’ll wish that’s all I did when I get through with you.”

  Kenny pulled away to straighten his shirt indignantly. “I swear it, okay? Do I look like a blabbermouth to you? Shit,” he added as an afterthought. Pulling his shoulders back, he put his hands on his hips and a look on his face that almost appeared bored.

  Ted played along with Rick, eyeing Kenny as if sizing him up. The poor kid was shooting at indifference with his stance, but Ted knew better. This was it. His big chance to actually fit in for once, to make some real friends. Being the new ki
d in the neighborhood was never easy, but being the fat new kid had to be the total pits. He’d gotten off to a good start by letting Rick copy off his last two Algebra tests. The kid had a knack for numbers. He wasn’t a moron. Far from it. He knew what people were thinking. Nobody wanted to hang around a “blubberbelly”. It wasn’t cool to be seen with the “lard-ass” of the trailer park.

  Not that Ted would ever think along those lines. Any good psychologist would tell you that that kind of prejudice came from people with low self-esteem themselves. But there were plenty with those qualifications, and he was sure Kenny had met up with more than his fair share. Yep, this was his golden opportunity to be a part of the team and he didn’t want to blow it. And his face was turning purple again. He wasn’t breathing.

  Ted nodded the okay before he could pass out.

  “Okay, the Tedster says you’re cool,” Ricky said, slapping Kenny on the shoulder before heading up the path. “Right this way, O honored one.”

  Ted grinned as Kenny drew in a deep breath, his face quickly fading back to a freckled pink before he hiked up his pants and hurried after Ricky. He liked Kenny. From the first time he’d heard his old man screaming at him at the top of his lungs, he’d felt a brotherhood with him, of sorts. Though Kenny lived five trailers down, he’d distinctly heard his old man call him every name in the book. Yep. Ted Kelsey knew a drunk slob when he heard one, and Kenny’s father was a world class, out and out, good-for-nothing boozer.

  Yep, Ted Kelsey was an expert when it came to detecting drunks. His expertise came from years of living with one. Eleven years to be exact. For eleven years and three months, he’d been the object of his own father’s drunken rages. He was accustomed to the demeaning name-calling, had learned to accept it as a part of life, had even begun to need it, in a way. At least when his father was screaming at him, he was giving him the time of day. It was the only form of communication the two of them had. If he wasn’t being hollered at, then he was being ignored. But he considered himself to be one of the lucky ones. His father had never abused him physically. It seemed his mother always got the brunt of that.