Ghosts of Black Bear Mountain, page 35
part #1 of Middwood Series
"Out of the way." He swung his fists, but his punches flew through the boy.
Bankward turned his eyes to me, then ran to his left, toward the pond. Grace and Turtle flanked him from both sides, bearing their eroded teeth, snapping at him. He evaded them and darted into the shallow water.
Joshua appeared and punched him with an uppercut. Bankward flew farther into the pond with a splash. His arms sloshed as he struggled to stand.
"You can't kill me!" he shouted with determination.
Joshua waded into the water as the girls closed behind him on the pond's bank, chomping like animals at the air.
Bankward jumped as though something under the water grabbed him. The surface of the pond rippled, and he leaped away.
The water began to bubble as Isaac rose from underneath. His body continued to rise until he stood on the pond's surface. The boy held out his arms, and Bankward's body washed toward him.
His chin fell to rest in the little boy's hand.
Bankward grabbed at Isaac's arms, but his efforts only passed through the ghost's form.
Isaac looked into his killer's eyes, intent with questioning purpose. "Help me get those oranges."
"No! No!" screamed Bankward, as Isaac grabbed him by his hair, then plunged them both under the surface.
Bankward fought in desperate and violent attacks.
Randy Bankward erupted from the water once more, panicked eyes finding mine for just a moment. They reminded me of a cruel man who once thought he was the predator. A man whose eyes bulged in shock at the flash of the eternity of death as his own son's hands choked the life out of him. He reminded me of my father.
Joshua held up the man's struggling body above his head. "I swear I'll kill you for this," Joshua said.
Bankward screamed out, but his screams were cut short, as Joshua thrust Bankward underwater, baptizing him for death.
Bankward gasped and gagged as Joshua held him by the neck and shoulder, then pulled, ripping the two apart.
The violent churning diminished until all was still and silent.
77
The ghost children glided slowly to the edge of the pond.
They halted and stood together in a straight line. It was the first time I'd seen them all together.
They stared at me.
"I don't know what will happen next but thank you for saving me."
"Children," Franklin's husky voice called from behind me.
I turned to see him, shaking his head. He tried to speak again, but no words came out. Tears welled in his eyes. Straining, he tried once more. "Children..."
The children saw their grandfather, and they soared toward him. I feared for Franklin, but a blue light enveloped each of the ghosts. The surge of energy caused me to shield my eyes.
I lowered my arm, afraid what I might find, but instead of the horrid ghosts, Joshua, Isaac, Grace, and Turtle ran to their grandfather. They weren't ghost any longer, but children, whole, innocent, with eyes and smiles beaming.
They shouted, "Grandpa Frank! Grandpa!"
Franklin struggled but dropped to his old knees to embrace little Turtle who, even though she was the youngest, raced to him the fastest. One by one, the children wrapped their arms around him.
Franklin cried out in surrendered joy, "Oh, my. My, my, my beautiful grandbabies."
Tears of joy fell from my face as I watched the reunion.
"Where have you been, Grandpa?" asked Turtle, but it came out as “Ganpa.”
"We've been looking for you this whole time," said Grace.
"We thought you had left us," said Isaac.
"We kept trying to find you, but we couldn't see in any of the windows, and the house was gone, and we didn't know where to go," said Joshua.
Franklin began to sob. "I'm sorry, children. I didn't know. I didn't know. I'm so sorry."
"Why are you sorry, Grandpa?" asked Grace.
Holding her tighter, he said, "I made a mistake. I thought something I shouldn't have thought. Can you ever forgive me?"
They all hugged.
"I want you to know I love you all, every one of you," said Franklin.
"We love you too, Grandpa," the children echoed in chiming voices.
Joshua stopped and turned to the mountain. "Hey! Did you hear that? I think it's time to go." The boy's eyes filled with delighted joy. "I hear father calling us."
"Diddy!" squealed Grace.
"And Sarah?" asked Franklin.
Joshua nodded wiping tears from his face.
"Oh, it's Mommy," beamed Isaac.
Franklin reached out to Joshua and pleaded. "Please. Can't you take me with you, too?"
Joshua touched his face. "Oh, Grandpa," he hugged the old man. "You still have work to do here."
"Please. Sarah. Sarah! Please!" He cried out.
His grandchildren surrounded him with hugs and kisses.
"We love you. All of us. Always," Isaac said.
"I'll never forget about any of you," Franklin promised.
Franklin and his grandchildren hugged one last time.
The children began to walk away, but Turtle turned and ran back. She whispered something into his ear, then kissed him on the cheek. She joined her brothers and sister, and they ran into the mist through a blue light, leaving only the rustling of dead leaves.
Franklin collapsed, sobbing.
I continued to cry, too.
"What was that?" Peter said wiping his face, standing beside me.
"Peter!" I shouted and pulled him into my arms.
Peter laughed. "Yeah, I'm fine. I'm glad you're still alive, too."
"So, you run into a fire to save me and still come back for more?"
"What are friends for, right?" he asked.
"Right. What are friends for?" I put my arm around him and smiled. "So, what happened to you after you pulled me out of the house?"
"I'll tell you all about it, just not right now."
Philip walked down to Franklin, but I stopped him. "Let him have some time. It's a lot to take in."
Franklin had been carrying his family's burden for thirteen years. He needed time to let it out.
Philip nodded. "It's a lot for all of us. More than I think you'll ever know. His family's name is cleared.”
I turned to walk away.
"Are you just going to leave him there?" asked Peter.
"Yeah, I figure he needs some time. Are you okay?"
"Yeah, no big deal," Peter scoffed waving it off. "Just another night in a boring town."
I laughed. "Yeah, mountain life sucks."
"Tell me about it," he grinned.
78
Wednesday, November 11, 1964
Sunrise 7:07 am. Sunset 5:26 pm.
* * *
The next morning, the Falcon was finally repaired and holding all my worldly possessions. I was leaving Kentucky. There were still plenty of states to dream in, but I couldn't stay here.
It seemed necessary to say goodbye to at least one person. If it was going to be anyone, it was going to be my closest friend, Peter. As I pulled into his yard, I swear I could feel it, the lighter side of life, the lesser burden, the magic. Whatever it was that caused the hummingbirds to stay, even in the late fall. It allowed Tonya to have a dog that was at least thirty years old. Not to mention she made paintings that demons crawled out of.
Baby howled, then wandered outside sniffing the air as her glazed eyes searched for me. Tonya appeared to identify the cause of her howls. She walked out with her posture echoing the question on her face, but once she peered through the windshield, she relaxed into a state of disappointment.
As I slid out of the passenger door, she spoke before I did. "You're a light packer."
"Yeah, I'm leaving with less than I arrived with." I gave a brief grin, but she didn't react.
"I don't blame you for leaving." She shook her head holding her shoulder with crossed arms. "God knows I would if I could."
"It was... an experience."
She shook her head with a dismissiveness. "It's just life in Middwood."
I didn't reply, and she didn't speak. I wasn't sure what else to say. I couldn't give her my condolences for the loss of her friends. Friends whose deaths I had played a part in.
She was so quiet and distant, and I knew she blamed me at least for part of what happened.
Finally, after an uncomfortable silence, I said, "Is Peter here? I want to tell him goodbye."
"I'd like to tell him that myself." She looked down. "He's gone."
"What do you mean?"
She shook her head. "I was hoping when you pulled up he would be with you, that you had talked some sense into him." She ran the tip of her shoes along the grass. "You weren't the only one who was of thinking of leaving."
"I'm so sorry."
"Was it you who gave him the idea?"
"What? No. No." Looking her in the eye. "He never talked to me about it."
She pursed her lips and looked away.
"He was really fond of you, you know?"
I nodded, as a hard swallow moved down my throat. "He's a great kid."
"No. He looked at you more than that, Matt. I think he left because he knew you were going to leave. All his father figures leave."
I looked away.
I came to say goodbye to Peter, but the fact he decided to leave without saying goodbye to me stung more than I'd expected. I was worried about how he would react to me going, but he turned the tables on me.
"He'll be back, Tonya, and when he does come back, please tell him I said goodbye and that I hope he finds his way. Tell him I said thanks."
I walked back to my car and slid in through the passenger door. Once I got in, the humming of the Falcon's engine gave me a sense of relief, but also an urgency to get out of Middwood as quickly as possible.
Tonya leaned over to the window. "Matt. Do yourself a favor, never come back here."
I looked in the rearview mirror as I drove off. I knew Middwood would forever haunt me wherever I went, but I hoped I'd find my place and that the Falcon would get me there.
I pulled out onto Highway 421, but then I pulled off to the side of the road. I left the engine running. I wasn't going to tempt fate by cutting it off. I reached into the back seat and pulled one of my bags to me.
I hopped over to the passenger door and pushed it open. I unzipped the bag and dumped the remains of my coated pills onto the dirt.
I bit my lip as I thought about saving one or two, but I closed my eyes and let them fall.
I threw the empty bag in the back seat, slid back behind the wheel, and drove on.
I didn't stop until I was out of Kentucky.
* * *
The End
Epilogue
Wednesday, November 11, 1964
Tonya
* * *
I stood watching Matt's car as it turned out of the yard. Once it disappeared behind the trees and the sound of the engine faded in the distance, I cleared my throat and said, "He's gone. I know you’re hiding out there."
Franklin nodded with a grin and walked out from the trees. "Are you worried about Peter?" he asked as he walked into the yard.
"I wish he would have let me know where he was going, but as long as he's gone, he'll be fine."
He studied my face, but I didn't look at him. "Are you sure you’re up for this?"
"The mourning moon has already come and gone. The winter will be rough, but it will all be behind us soon."
"Well, there turns out to be more to this story than we thought."
I finally broke my stare from the empty road where the car disappeared. "What is it?"
Franklin paused and thought about the words before he spoke.
I was concerned. "What?"
"It turns out Self, Gresham, and Bankward weren't the ones who killed Sarah and Roger."
"What?" I gasped. "Who told you that?"
"Turtle did," he said with a tinge of pain in his voice.
I stared at Franklin, looking for answers. I took a deep breath. "Then who did?"
He shook his frowning face. "That, I don't know."
I narrowed my eyes at Franklin. I wasn't sure if he was telling me the truth or not.
"We'll figure it out," I said, my voice dry.
He lowered his eyes and put his hands in his cardigan pockets. "Yes, we will."
We both turned our eyes to the Black Bear Mountain.
* * *
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Marc Monroe, Ghosts of Black Bear Mountain
