Read Days of Little Texas Online
Authors: R. A. Nelson
Days of Little Texas (11 page)
DEVIL COMES TO ALABAMA?
Bizarre Phenomenon Witnessed
at Vanderloo Plantation
Multitudes Flee Terrifying Apparition
M
AY
16, 1934. V
ANDERLOO
, A
LABAMA
.
A most extraordinary phenomenon made its appearance Tuesday evening, witnessed by hundreds of shocked onlookers attending the Calgary Holiness Church With Signs Following camp meeting. Witnesses say a frightening apparition made its arrival on the fourth day of the meeting, apparently accosting one of the clergymen in attendance as he was ministering to his flock.
The service was taking place near the remains of the Jacob James Vanderloo Plantation, an antebellum ruin and landing station on the Tennessee River, once infamous as the hub for the thriving slave trade in northwest Alabama. The plantation is now the gathering site for the church’s annual Pilgrimage for Christ.
Accounts by eyewitnesses vary as to the exact nature of the phenomenon, though it was generally agreed by onlookers to be of a “diabolical origin.”
“I was sitting there with my family, attending the service, when a sudden noise came up in the woods,” stated one shaken onlooker, a Mr. Everett A. Simms of Minor Hill, Tennessee. “It sounded something like the noise a washboard makes, hard and raspy.” The sound was followed by a tremendous cry, “almost like a scream,” Simms went on. “But an unearthly scream, not like anything I have ever heard before.”
Mr. Johnson R. McCready of Coalwater was near where the noise originated. “I was not fifty yards away from a stand of cottonwoods, where the noise seemed to be coming from,” McCready declared. “I’m not ashamed to say, I was badly frightened. It
was an awful mewling sound—some might call it a bobcat, which has been known to scream like the scream of a woman. But this was no earthly bobcat. Not as loud as the screaming was and the way it was shaking the trees.”
Indeed, the trees were reported to have bent and shaken quite violently in the vicinity from whence the ghastly sound was emanating. Whole trees, pines and cottonwoods and even a sturdy oak or two, were “twitching with a fury that I hope never to witness again,” stated McCready. “Trunks as big around as a man’s leg, whipping and tossing, just like some monstrous giant had got hold of them, rattling them just as if they were nothing but turnips.”
It was reported that a general panic ensued as the phenomenon or apparition appeared to approach the camp meeting. Terrified worshippers leapt to their feet and dashed about in an unruly melee, uncertain as to where to flee the approaching menace. Though witnesses were in complete accord as to the danger of the situation, they were uniformly unable to make a coherent description of what was actually seen.
“It all happened so fast,” Miss Dodie Myrick of Leighton was heard to say. “Everyone began screaming and running. We did not know what to do. I never saw it. However, I could tell it was coming closer and closer. We all could. It had to be the work of Satan.”
“It was the devil,” McCready agreed. “Let there be no doubt about that. I won’t ever go back to that place again. I feel it is accursed.”
What exactly occurred next in the midst of the disordered chaos is sketchy, although all witnesses testified to the disappearance of the unfortunate pastor, Reverend O. T. Hallmark.
“It took Pastor Hallmark with it,” Simms stated. “I saw him one moment, trying to comfort his flock, gather us together again. And then he was gone, quick as a whistle.”
The helpless pastor was alleged to have been “dragged off into the underbrush,” McCready declared. “I cannot say that I saw it with my own eyes, but that is the only thing that could have happened. We all saw him there, and then he was immediately gone. Some of us wanted to search, but there was such a panic.”
No contact has been received from Pastor Hallmark, who remains missing. Witnesses state that there was a general retreat from the site of the meeting, with the apparition following close behind.
“Wooden chairs were flung about like toys, children were crying, folks screaming,” Myrick stated. “There was a great sound of devastation behind us. We ran without looking back, in a complete terror.”
“The meeting place, the whole camp, was smashed to bits,” McCready affirmed.
His assessment was corroborated by an unrecorded number of additional campgoers, one of whom asked to remain anonymous. “It’s the most God-fearful monstrosity I’ve ever experienced,” declared the anonymous onlooker.
Other witnesses refused to be deposed regarding the incident, only stating they were still too frightened to speak with coherency.
“It’s a day of judgment for us all,” one man warned. “You knew just from the sound what it was. It didn’t speak any words; I don’t know if it rightly could. But that sound has me shook plumb to my core.”
It is also unknown whether the site will ever again be utilized in the same fashion for future church functions.
An investigation was made by the Lauderdale County sheriff, William T. Pembrake, without much revealing the ultimate cause of the disturbance.
“My men and I crisscrossed the island and couldn’t find a thing,” Sheriff Pembrake asserted. “All efforts will be made to recover the missing man and determine just what went on out there.”
As the investigation progresses, the
Tri-Cities Daily
will continue to report on the details of the search, as well as any further details as to the nature of the “terrifying” phenomenon.
“Mercy,” Certain Certain says. “Now you know why they call the property Devil Hill, Lightning.”
Tee Barlow glares at him a little. Miss Wanda Joy settles back in her chair.
“Daddy King always said Pastor Hallmark was such a good
man,” she says, eyes far away. “So many lives he touched—he will never be forgotten by those who knew him.
“He—he was my
grandfather
.”
I stare at her, feeling my mouth clap shut.
“There has never been another service on that plantation,” Tee Barlow says. “Not since that day. People stopped coming. The land was said to be cursed. Satan accomplished just exactly what he set out to accomplish, didn’t he?” He looks at Miss Wanda Joy. “When you called with your proposition—what else could I say but yes? It would have been
his
dream. Pastor Hallmark’s. To see his final mission fulfilled.”
He turns to me. “Well, Little Texas? What do you think about all this?”
Before I can say anything, Miss Wanda Joy reaches over and touches my arm.
“You are going to preach on Devil Hill.”
“I made a mistake,” Miss Wanda Joy says. “I’ve been holding you back, when clearly you are ready for this.”
She makes a little smile that speaks to nobody else but me:
I never make mistakes
. And it says something else, too:
You asked for this
.
My mind is fluttering like swallows in a barn. Tee Barlow’s newspaper clipping about the devil lays there looking up at me. I feel the blood in my face.
“It’s so clear to me now,” Miss Wanda Joy says, dark eyes burning. “The hand of the Lord has led us to this moment. It’s time, Little Texas, for you to grow up.”
I glance at Certain Certain. He closes his eyes and shakes his head. Miss Wanda Joy puts her napkin down and pushes her chair back so she can cross her legs.
“My father told a story,” she says, “about a man who began preaching the gospel on a street corner in Andalusia, Alabama. One day he just opened his Bible and began to speak, letting the Holy Spirit flow through him. And for three long days not one person, not
one
, stopped to listen. That man stood all day long on that hot street corner witnessing to no one but the birds in the trees. In fact, he preached
three whole days
before a single soul showed up to receive the gospel. But soon thereafter came two, then three, then four. A handful. Ten. Thirty. Fifty. A
hundred
. Sheep to the shepherd. And upon the Rock, that man built a mighty ministry.
“Think about the size of his faith, Little Texas. He knew he was preaching to someone on those long, empty days. Someone who was listening. Someone who was working diligently in the background to answer his prayers. And that someone was
God
.”
“Praise His name,” Tee Barlow says.
“But who was the man?” I say.
The lines come up on Miss Wanda Joy’s forehead. She turns and jabs a long finger at the window in the direction of the island, voice suddenly trembling.
“I’ll tell you who he was.
The very same man who was dragged off into those woods
. My grandfather. Lost, never to be found again. A man that
great
, that full of the Holy Spirit.
We owe him this
, Little Texas. It’s time. I haven’t just been thinking about this since Meridian. I’ve been thinking about this
my whole life
.”
A fresh draft comes whispering through the room; the newspaper clipping rustles. Everybody is quiet, all looking at me.
I have a question, but I don’t know how to ask it without getting her even more riled up. I put it to her as soft as I can.
“But… if Pastor Hallmark, a man that
godly
… if he wasn’t able to … you know … what can
I
do?”
“That was over seventy years ago,” Miss Wanda Joy says. “Who knows what truly happened that night? All we know is that my grandfather’s flock turned on him and
ran. Christians
, and they ran like frightened dogs. Left him to do battle alone, and he was taken. This time I guarantee the children of the Lord will be victorious!”
“Amen!” Tee Barlow says, raising his fists like he’s fixing to bust Lucifer right in the mouth.
“That’s
enough
,” Faye Barlow says softly. She comes up behind my chair and puts her small hands on my shoulders. “You two are frightening him.”
Sugar Tom coughs. “‘And I was with you in weakness, and in fear, and in much trembling.’ First Corinthians, chapter two, verse three.”
“Amen,” Tee Barlow says again, only quieter this time.
Everybody talks awhile longer, till Sugar Tom is fixing to drop off. Tee Barlow clears the newspaper clipping away.
“Well, it’s getting late, and we have a big day tomorrow,” he says. “Faye, why don’t we show our guests up to their rooms?”
“I’ll take Little Texas,” Miss Faye says, hooking her arm in mine as we get up from the table. “I imagine you’re tired from all that traveling.”
Preach on Devil Hill
.
“What? Oh. I’m all right,” I say. “Thank you for the delicious supper.”
We head up the wide staircase to the second floor. This is the biggest house I’ve ever been in and also the darkest. There are things that look like torches fastened to the walls, but which are really little electric bulbs made to look like flickering flames.
The place is overrun with plushy carpets and polished wood, heavy on the varnish. Vases, paintings, rugs on the walls with pictures of Bible scenes: Moses in the bulrushes, the two disciples on the Mount of Olives, Jesus riding His ass to town on Good Friday. Those kinds of things. A hundred percent better than the ones I’ve seen at gas stations, I’ll tell you that.
Miss Faye takes my hand. When we’re far enough away from the others, she tugs me into a side hallway. Puts her face close to mine.
“I don’t know how much I should say,” she says in a low voice. “But I don’t want you to do this. What they’re asking you to do.”
I feel my heart speed up a little. “Why, Miss Faye?”
“Be careful. Not so loud.” She whips her head around, looking back toward the light. The stairs creak, but the creaking goes away. She smiles. “And please don’t call me Miss Faye. It makes me feel so
old
.”
“Okay,” I say, quieter. My heart is racing now. “But why did you tell me not to believe your husband?”
“It’s Tee’s personality.” She presses closer, till I am breathing nothing but her scent. “It’s so much stronger than mine. Even back at Ole Miss—Tee was my business instructor!—he always knew exactly what he wanted, and he
got
it. That’s just his way. He’s not a bad man. He’s
not
. That’s part of the problem, Little Texas—”
“Please call me Ronald Earl.”
“All right, Ronald Earl.” She laughs a little, showing her gap-toothed smile. “I mean—he has so much
faith
. Tee always believes everything will work out the way he wants it to. So he never considers the consequences of his actions for others. Am I making any sense, honey?”
“Some.” It’s hard to think about anything but the closeness of her body to mine. Her smell, her softness.
“When he wants something, it simply drives him,” Faye says. “Anyone or anything that gets in the way of that, he just ignores or bluffs his way around it.”
“You mean he lies?”
Her face pinches up. “Well. I don’t know if I would out and out call it
lying
. I don’t think he even knows he is doing
it. He just gets so
fixated
on a thing, you know? And he’ll say almost anything, do just about anything, to make it happen. It’s just that this thing is not right, what they’re asking you to do. It’s dangerous.”
I feel the skin on my own face tighten up. “So you think Satan is sitting over there on that island just waiting to drag me off?”
“Shhh. It’s more
a feeling
I have. Tee—he thinks I’m a big fat pessimist, always seeing the rain in the rainbow. But that’s not it …”
She makes a little clutched-up sound in her throat and swallows hard before she can go on. “If you only
knew
,” she says, “how long we have been living with his—his
obsession
.”
“Which fits right in with Miss Wanda Joy.”
Faye puts a finger to her mouth. “Let’s walk while we talk.”
This hall’s the longest yet, lined with pictures of dead people with bow ties, flouncy dresses, slick hair, tall hats, starchy collars.
“Are all of them Vanderloos?” I say, to break up the mood.
“Yes,” Faye says. “I wanted them out of here when we moved in, but Tee, of course, would not have one thing touched. ‘It would detract from the authentic antebellum flavor,’ he likes to say. As if he knows what he’s talking about— he makes his money selling Aqua Glass hot tubs.” She sighs. “I never intended on living here. It was all Tee’s idea. But it’s not this place so much. I love a lot of things about it, I really do. But over
there
…”
She waves her hand off toward the wall. I look, but there is nothing there but a picture of a man who appears to have been born before the invention of shampoo.
“What?” I say.
“Here they come.” She grabs my hands and holds them together with her hands.
“Don’t mention what we talked about
.”
It’s not till I look out the deep-set window in my room that I realize where Faye was pointing. Not at the wall, but across the water.
Devil Hill.
