Quarrel with the Moon Page 12

  With only starlight to guide her, Faye hobbled carefully down the path. A sudden wind rushed past her like a questing animal. Faye wished that she had let Jewell walk her home. "Now, now, Faye," she told herself, "you're becomin' another Sophie Balock." She forced herself to pick up the song again.

  "I'm gonna see my Jesus, when I get home. I'm...."

  As she passed a clumb of blackberry bushes, Faye saw that the leaves were shivering. But the wind had passed. She drew in her breath and increased her pace. She had to walk through a brief patch of forest before reaching home. The woods, like a tiny peninsula, jutted into the Hogans' cornfield. For years Ol' Man Hogan, who was as lazy as a hound, had talked about cutting it down so that he would have more space for corn. But like so many other things, Hogan didn't get around to doing it before he died. And the Hogan boys were just as shiftless. They had no interest in felling the trees. Of course Faye could take the long way around, through the cornfield, but that would mean climbing through a barbed wire fence in the near-dark. Also, the corn stalks when they brushed against her skin made her itch. She was too tired to bother bathing again that night and, if she would admit it, too drunk.

  As Faye entered the forest, the treetops blotted out the stars and she was plunged into blackness. She stopped and considered backtracking, detouring through the cornfield after all, but it would take much longer, and she was so anxious to get home. As she pushed onward, a low-hanging tree limb slapped her in the face. She must have taken a wrong turn. She backed up and expelled her breath sharply. Something was pressing against her. Faye turned; it was nothing more than the stump of another limb. She was trying to get her bearings when a rhododendron bush to her left moved for no apparent reason. She rushed away from it, but became entangled in grapevines, which encircled her like serpents. Gasping, she pulled herself free. Where in the devil had the pathway gone? Another step, and her feet found smooth ground once again. Nearly smiling, Faye knew where she was. She'd be through the trees in no time.

  As she stumbled on, she heard movement on either side of her. She strained her eyes to see, but the darkness of the forest was so ominous, so heavy, that it made her feel like she had been struck blind. Then she heard it again - the distinct sound of shuffling and breathing.

  "Who's there?" she asked in a strangled voice. Her nerves quivering, Faye stopped. For a moment there was utter silence. She was oddly aware of the scent of summer - the ripened corn, the wildflowers, the loamy earth ... then something else, a smell that had a sickish sweet undertone. It was the smell of her own fear.

  She moved forward again, cursing the burned-out lantern with each painful step. She increased her stumbling pace, but did not dare to run in the cover of darkness. Sobbing with relief, Faye reached the edge of the trees at last.

  The clouds which had earlier obliterated the moon now blotted out the stars. Faye made her way to the cornfield on the right of the path. Its fence would lead her home. She stretched out her arm, cried out in pain and quickly drew back. Her palm had caught on one of the many barbs. She pressed her hand to her mouth and sucked the salty blood.

  Something was moving between the corn-rows, rustling the sword-shaped leaves. They've followed me from the forest, Faye thought wildly. Pitching the useless lantern aside, she ran along the fence. Suddenly she crashed into the post and was seized by metal talons. She cried out in surprise and pain, and then realized what held her. The Hogan boys had not finished wiring the posts, and three great curls of barbed wire, each about the size of a tumbleweed, had been left carelessly lying on the ground.

  The loosely wrapped wire caught Faye's dress and its barbs dug into her legs. Shrieking with pain, she tried to disengage herself, but she fell to the ground. The more she struggled, the more the deadly wire coiled around her body. The horror of the moment was worse than any nightmare she could imagine.

  Those who had been pursuing Faye emerged from the cornfield and surrounded her. Faye felt her stomach turn and her bowels rumble uncomfortably. Abruptly, the wind rose; the clouds were blown away and the moon came out. Faye's screams were transformed into thin, birdlike shrieks by the night winds.

  A low, deep growl came from the leader.

  Faye began to cry in terror, tears mercifully blurring her vision.

  The leader, loping cautiously around the wire, seized Faye's ankle between strong teeth. They cut through her flesh and scraped against the bone. Another one crept forward and reached toward her face, ripping her cheeks away. The others grunted and drew closer. At last Faye knew what had profaned her husband's body and what had happened to his heart. As they drew nearer she could feel their hot, fetid breath burn her flesh. Faye closed her eyes and forced herself to sing. "I'm gonna see my Jesus, when I get...." Her words ended as her throat filled with blood.

  ***

  Avarilla hurried through the Thicket towards home. She shouldn't have stayed so long at the Community House. As community leader she was expected to attend the socials, and she did so willingly; still, she didn't like to leave Sissy alone for too long a time. Alex had offered to sit with Sissy, but he was, after all, the caller at the dances and an energetic young man, to boot. It was right for him to be out enjoying his youth while it lasted. It was natural.

  She entered the kitchen, set the lantern on the table and glanced at the Big Ben alarm clock. It was past eleven; Sissy would be asleep by now. After taking off her shoes, Avarilla crept quietly into Sissy's room to kiss her goodnight.

  The bed was empty. Sissy was sitting in a chair by the window, bathed in moonlight. Her hair was wet; it hung about her face and shoulders like the tendrils of an underwater vine. Her face was pale, her eyes glazed and shining, and a proud smile curled the corners of her mouth.

  "Why, Sissy, what are you doin' up so late?"

  "They came, Mama," said Sissy. "They finally came."

  Apprehensive, Avarilla went to her daughter. As she neared, she saw that Sissy cradled something in each arm. "What have you got there. Sissy?"

  "My boys," Sissy giggled. "My baby boys."

  Avarilla stared at the offerings. In one arm Sissy held the corn husk doll, in the other a shapeless mass of fur. The old woman touched it and drew back. It was a dead squirrel, crawling with maggots.

  "And I already named them, Mama." She held up one. "Josh." And then the other. "Orin."

  Avarilla heard a piercing scream and realized that it had come from her own lips.

  Part Two

  "Surely the serpent will bite

  without enchantment;

  And a babbler is no better."

  ECCLESIASTES, 10:11

  12

  The sun exploded in a shower of golden needles through the treetops. The dusty path resembled a strip of beaten bronze until it was disturbed by Avarilla's footsteps. Carrying a huge basket, she hurried toward the camper, through the spangled sunlight.

  The old woman tapped lightly on the door.

  Josh answered it. "Aunt Avvie! You're up early." He was wearing cutoffs, a tank top and sandals.

  "You'll forgive me, Josh," she said kissing him warmly on the cheek. "I brought you breakfast." She held up the basket. "Fresh eggs, country bacon, homemade bread, red raspberry jam, an' a tub of butter. I hope that's to your likin'."

  "Sounds wonderful. But you shouldn't -"

  "Of course I should have," interrupted Avarilla. "This is quite an event for me. Your comin' back to the Ridge." She set down her basket and rolled up the sleeves of her plain, homespun dress. "Now, if you'll just show me where everythin' is, I'll get breakfast on. Looks like your coffee's finished perkin'."

  "But Cresta and I -"

  Avarilla smiled. "I always say there's nothin' so nice as wakin' up to the smell of bacon. She's still asleep, is she?"

  "She was tired out - the trip and all."

  "And the dancin'. Goodness, she had a lively time last night."

  Josh poured coffee for himself and Avarilla. "Did the social last much longer?"

  "It was stil
l goin' when I left."

  "How did Orin react to meeting me?"

  "He took it in stride, just like you. I guess I never stopped to think that nobody really likes to look like anybody else."

  Josh started to answer her, thought better of it, and began taking down dishes, frying pans and forks and spoons.

  Even though Cresta was groggy from the Valium, the seductive aroma of bacon brought her to her feet. She quickly pinned up her hair and put on a robe of Chinese silk. Then she opened the sliding door and stuck her head out. "Did I oversleep? I was supposed to cook."

  "No, love," said Josh. "Aunt Avvie brought all sorts of good things for breakfast. We thought we'd just go ahead with it."

  "It smells wonderful. I'll be with you as soon as I take a quick shower."

  After Cresta had disappeared into the bathroom, Avarilla remarked, "I must say, she's one of the few women I've ever seen who looks just as beautiful in the morning."

  "That was her main selling point," grinned Josh.

  Avarilla insisted on serving the young couple first, before sitting down herself. Josh ate with gusto, and Cresta was surprised to see that he ate half a dozen strips of bacon. Well, it was delicious. The old woman ate lightly herself, explaining, "Better to eat less as you grow older. It sustains one's health." Then she turned serious. "Josh, I want you an' Cresta to be real careful climbin' down that mountainside to the river. You'll be takin' the old mining trail, but don't go explorin' any of those boarded-up mine shafts. They're dangerous. I guess the mountain took offense at gettin' all cut up like that. An' dress in somethin' sturdy. You'll need high boots. You got to watch out for the brambles an' the snakes." Cresta shivered, and Avarilla added, "They won't bother you if you don't bother them. They're just creatures of nature. How long are you plannin' to stay down on the river?"

  "Well, we'll want to visit with Harry and his assistants...."

  "You shouldn't try to start back this afternoon. You wouldn't make it back to the Ridge before dark. Better wait an' come back in the morning. If you'll fetch me a piece of paper, I'll draw you as good a map as I can recollect."

  Cresta cleared the table and washed the dishes while Avarilla, brow knitted in concentration, drew a crude map. "You start off goin' toward the store - away from the Community Center - but you'll see a little road goin' off to the left. You turn there. It'll take you to the trail." She added, "You'd better be takin' some food an' blankets."

  "I've already packed the necessaries in the backpacks."

  Avarilla gathered her empty basket. "Well, I'd better get going. It's at least eight o'clock. I've got wood to chop, chickens to feed, an' a cow to milk." She lowered her voice. "An' I don't like to leave Sissy alone for too long a spell. She'll be wantin' her breakfast." She embraced them both and left.

  Cresta remarked, "I hope when I grow old, I grow old with as much grace and kindness as Aunt Avvie. She makes me feel guilty for all the petty things I fuss about."

  Doing as Avarilla had told them, the couple dressed in long-sleeved shirts, jeans and high boots. They strapped on the backpacks and, after locking the camper, were on their way.

  ***

  The sun-scorched little road came to a fork. Josh and Cresta stopped, wiped their dusty faces with handkerchiefs and looked at one another. The fork hadn't appeared on Avvie's map.

  "Which way to Oz?" wondered Cresta. She glanced around and suddenly began laughing. "Look, Josh, look! There's even a scarecrow. Is that prophetic or what?"

  A dissolute scarecrow stood sentinel above the rows of tassel stalks. Arms stretched out, body dangling down, it was dressed in a threadbare jacket, baggy pants and a misshapen hat - all black. The head was made from a flower sack stuffed with husks. Somebody had added yarn to represent hair. The face had been painted on in bold, rough strokes, and the "artist" had given the scarecrow a disturbing expression. The eyes were wide and staring, the nostrils flared and mouth open and twisted into a silent scream.

  Cresta muttered, "Someone has a wild imagination."

  "Or a macabre one," added Josh. "By the way, they don't call them scarecrows around here. They're called scarebuggers."

  "Scarebugger! That one certainly is. It's scarier than anything I've ever seen outside an amusement park." She looked at the paths. One went uphill and the other down. "Let's take the high road." Josh nodded, and they walked on. About ten yards further on, the trees cleared and they saw that they were approaching an old country church. "This can't be the way," exclaimed Cresta. "The path ends at the church."

  "We needed to go the other way. I wonder why Aunt Avvie didn't mention the fork?"

  The path looked as if it hadn't been used for a very long time. The church was set on the crest of a hillock. Its front was windowless, but there was a covered entrance and several steps leading up to it. Paint hung in scabs from the warped boards. The grass and bushes near the structure were brown and paper-dry.

  "That's odd," said Cresta. "It looks abandoned. I thought mountain people were fervently religious."

  "They are. I expect the preacher's a traveling man and doesn't get up here too often. Either that, or they've built a new church somewhere else. Come on, love, let's go." He wanted to leave. The church reminded him uncomfortably of his parents' home in Jericho Falls.

  "Oh, Josh," pleaded Cresta, "let's look around." She walked around the side of the church and called, "Josh, here's a graveyard. Please, I'd like to see."

  Josh sighed and followed her.

  "Oh, Josh, it's in absolute ruins. It looks as if it's been bombed or something. Why on earth don't the townspeople take care of it?"

  The burial ground contained roughly fifty graves, which were overgrown with leaves and thistle. Crosses, stones and wooden markers were staggered at odd angles. Here and there graves were covered with an iridescent moss which glistened like a dragonfly's wings. Cresta shuddered, and Josh slipped his arm around her. "I was hoping to make some rubbings of the gravestones," she said sadly. "When they're framed they make wonderful decorative pieces." Hand in hand they walked in through the rusted iron gate. Some of the graves had sunken several feet into the ground. One section of the hillside had eroded, and rotting caskets were clearly visible.

  "Josh, how ghastly. Don't they care anything for their relatives?"

  "Maybe they're planning on moving the graves to the new church," Josh suggested.

  "Lord, I hope so! It looks so desolate. This does it. I've made up my mind to be cremated once and for all."

  They took off their heavy backpacks, set them on the ground and turned to face the back of the church. This side had a stained glass window. It was not large; it looked as though it had been fashioned by local craftsmen. Still, the work was remarkable. It was a life-size depiction of a simple, childlike Christ wearing a milky-white robe, standing alone on a road, his arms outstretched in a gesture of welcome. A small, cuddly lamb lay curled at his feet. The colors were bold, startling in their intensity. They added to the pleasing, if primitive, effect.

  "Josh, it's beautiful. It makes me want to cry or get religion."

  Josh did not answer. He stooped and gathered up his backpack. "We'd better get going, Cresta. Harry's undoubtedly made a call to the institute by now, and he'll be expecting us. Cresta?"

  Cresta started to turn, and then out of the corner of her eye she saw movement. "Josh! Josh!" Josh looked up. Cresta stood clenching and unclenching her fists. Despite her natural high color, her face was ashen.

  "Cresta, what is it?"

  "His face," she gasped. "It's alive! Jesus was looking at me."

  "What in the hell are you talking about?"

  "Look. Look at his face."

  Josh stared at the glass face of Christ. "You're seeing things. It's nothing but a window."

  "Josh, I know what I'm talking about. The face was looking at me. The eyes moved, the lips moved, the whole face shifted."

  "Cresta," said Josh patiently, "the sunlight is playing tricks on you. Come on, we've got to go."


  Cresta allowed herself to be led away.

  "Come on, love, I'm going to sit you down in the shade, and I'll give you a nice cold drink of water." Josh led Cresta to the front of the church, made her sit down on the bottom step. He opened his canteen and handed it to her.

  Cresta took a long drink, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, and said evenly, "I don't care what you say. I saw what I saw."

  "Maybe I'd better take you inside. It's probably cooler in there. You might have a touch of sunstroke." Josh tried the church door, but it was locked. He looked up and read the sign over the door. "The Holiness Church of Sweet Jesus Savior." His expression changed: filthy words and vile epithets had been scratched into the sign with sharp instruments. As he started back down the steps, his foot hit against a pie tin. The tin, burned black with age, was empty save for a few small, polished bones. "They must have a dog here, keeping guard against vandals."

  Cresta eyed the bones and replied dully, "It must be an awfully neat dog."

  "You're feeling better, then?"

  "Yes, let's get on with it."

  Further down the path, Cresta glanced over her shoulder. The church, silhouetted against the blazing sun, resembled a giant tombstone.

  ***

  The inside of the church was as bleak and chill as winter. The Sin-Eater climbed down from the ladder which stood next to the stained-glass window and headed for the pulpit. The weight of his boots made crunching sounds upon the sheddings which were strewn about the floor like long cellophane wrappers. He moved carefully. His companions uncoiled and slithered out of his way.