The Deadsong (13 page)

“Gina, I really admire your fashion sense! A bit homely, perhaps, but that
chapeau
on your head really compliments your independence and strong will. I admire that indeed.” He was being sarcastic and she knew it. His gaze made her uncomfortable. She felt…naked, vulnerable. His eyes lit up as if he could read it on her face.

And liked it.

“Oh, don’t be scared. I won’t bite.”

I’m not so sure.

His smile widened. “I have lots of experience with children.”

We’re not five years old. Wait for it, he might dig some candy out of his pocket and ask us to sit on his lap.

Gina had enough. “I’m sorry, Mr. Thade, but––”

“Please! Call me Sammy.”

“Sammy, I’m sorry, but my brother and I have to go back into town.”

Their mother flashed a pitiful glare of offense. “But you just got here.”

“I know, but I just realized I left my phone at Charlie’s while I was waiting out the storm.”

“I’m sure Mr. Douglas will keep it safe till tomorrow,” Thade said.

Sammy’s about to get a good whammy across the face if he don’t butt out.

“I really need it to call my friend Sarah later about homework. I don’t know her number by heart,” Gina said, knowing she had no friend named Sarah, but this creep wouldn’t know, and her mom was too mesmerized to care.

Gina jumped. Her thigh was humming. She pulled out her phone and silenced Jared’s incoming call. Thade grinned, pleased.

“See, you would have made a burnt run for nothing!” Smilin Sammy rolled his head back to Linda. “Sugar, what is it with kids and their cell phones? Can’t live without em, yet they can’t seem to keep up with em.” He was making eyes at her and Gina didn’t like it one bit. Something wasn’t right about this fellow. Dylan knew it, too.

3

Thade had finally went his way. Linda, still hopelessly infatuated with this weirdo, began cleaning the house, whistling while she did it. Jared picked Gina up an hour later. There wasn’t a whole lot more Dylan could do, so he left. The game started at six, and he still had to pick up Garrett then swing by Becky Muller’s house for the little bottles of whiskey she’d stolen from the Durden Inn while changing the sheets in one of the high-dollar rooms. After the boys had procured their bottles of hooch, they grabbed a couple of sodas at Avery’s and were at the high school before kickoff.

The Durden Wildcats took the field as the cheerleaders bounced their blue and gold pompoms to “Cat Scratch Fever” blaring over the loudspeakers. Dylan had his eye on the short cheerleader near the thirty-yard line, the one with honey-colored hair and the black number thirteen painted on her cheek. She was one of Duke’s nymphotic lady friends, of course. Why else would she have his number branded on her face? She didn’t look like one of
those
girls, but Dylan reckoned Duke’s influence and charm were too much for her to overlook. He probably had a bounce with her in his car before the game, quick and real savage-like.

“Hey Stark,” Garrett whispered, “you feeling it yet?”

Dylan’s lips spread wide across his flushed cheeks, letting his tongue bat around the numbness in his mouth.

“You’re such a lightweight,” Garrett said, topping off Dylan’s Coke with more whiskey.

Gina made her way up the bleachers and sat down next to them. Someone’s fat finger thudded her shoulder. “Hey chick, I can’t see over your stupid hat!”

She spun around and gave the freshman a baleful go-to-hell look that would probably send him there. He wrinkled his nose at her and said something under his breath, but he bothered her no more.

“Hey Gina, your lover boy’s waving at you down there.” Garrett pointed to the field. She saw Jared lowering his hand and smiling a bit. She waved back as though she were bidding a knight safety in battle. He then dropped his helmet on and prepared to kick some ass for his lovely maiden up in the bleachers.

That’s when she saw Sam Thade staring at her from the visitors’ side. Old Sammy shoved a handful of popcorn in his mouth and gave her a little salute. That grin, oh that grin made her skin crawl. She wasn’t sure what this guy was up to, but it was no good.

He mouthed something, but he was too far away for her to make any sense of it. Probably another cute pet name he couldn’t stand to withhold.
Where’s your mommy, snickerdoodle?

She’d deal with Thade later. Right now she had other cats to skin, and she had just spotted one strolling in through the gate. Ellis and Michelle Pearson carried their cushions with the school logo screened on the seat up to the far right corner of the home section. His eyes briefly met Gina’s, but then quickly returned his attention toward the game. Mr. Pearson was playing with fire, and part of her wondered if he already knew that. Gina would hack at the roots to find out everything she could even if the whole damn town turned its back on her and called her names forever. Somehow he had pulled Jared into this, and she wouldn’t have it. If Alan Blair was able to rid Hemming of the snakes and send Mr. Pearson packing, that might be enough for it all to end.

But Gina knew it would take a lot more than that to alter a predetermined course set by darker forces beyond the ones living in Arlo County.

“Hiya Gina!” a voice cried. “Hello, boys!” Floyd Wiggins stood over them gnawing on a hot dog.

“Hello, Floyd,” Gina said, smiling. “Where you been?”

“Oh I’ve been around. Sciatic nerve in my leg’s been bothering me so I’m usually cooped up in my house reading books and making chili.”

“You should bring us some of that chili, Mr. Wiggins,” Dylan said. Gina could smell the alcohol on his breath when he said it, but she kept quiet.

Floyd looked charmed. “Come and visit me sometime and I’ll send some back with you. I better sit down before they run me outta here, so I’ll be seein y’all. Tell your mom I said hi.” He disappeared behind them, leaving a fragrant cloud of Old Spice for all to enjoy.

Gina saw Ellis wasn’t with Michelle. It took her a moment, but she finally spotted him headed for the snack bar. She got up, navigated through the crowd, and followed him. She pretended to wait for an opening in the ladies’ room, hanging around outside between the snack bar and the home side bleachers. Pearson watched the game from the fence, checking his watch often.

“I doubt there’s anyone else in this town with a hat like that,” Alan Blair said. He scooped a glob of nacho cheese onto his finger from a plastic tray and swallowed it. “Ran out of chips.”

“I can see that,” Gina said, relieved to see an outsider who didn’t seem threatening.

“I’m suppose to be going somewhere with Floyd Wiggins after the game. He claims to know where these snakes are hiding. Told me someone’s taking care of them. The Keeper. Like in that book. Have you read it yet?”

“Haven’t had the chance, no.”

“I know it’s all legend around here, but you believe it, don’t you? I can tell.”

“Look, Ellis Pearson, that guy down there by the fence, he’s the one.”

“The
Surpens Susurro
, or snake whisperer. That’s just another name for the Keeper mentioned in that book. A man cursed by the devil to reap souls with these snakes possessed by souls of the taken.”

Gina shot him a funny look.

“I had time to read most of it. The first few page are missing. I called the University of Glasgow where the original book should be locked up, but it’s not there.”

Well, he’s got my boyfriend involved. Making him do the…reaping now.”

“Well, according to the text, he can’t. Hugo Piersonne, the author says––”

“A name that probably became ‘Pearson’ over the years, right?”

“Maybe. I won’t rule it out. But the reaping can only be done by someone who descended from his bloodline.”

“I don’t know why or how he’s doing it, but that’s what’s happening.”

Alan tossed his garbage in a trash barrel. “I’m at a loss for words. I took North American Folklore my junior year of college, so I’m really into this sort of thing, but I’m more concerned about catching one of these…snakes and taking it back with me. That’s the extent of my purpose here.”

Ellis was still poised by the fence, a slight breeze throwing up his graying hair. Then Gina noticed something very strange indeed. Reverend Motley from the Sand Mountain Church was watching him, too. Not just watching him, but studying him the way a tourist examines a statue in an art museum. It was on Motley’s face––he had suspicions of his own. But the shakers down at Sand Mountain weren’t the kind of people Gina wanted to make friends with. She didn’t like the idea of comparing notes or forging an alliance with anyone, even if they claimed to be dutiful disciples of Christ.

4

“Howdy, friend,” Carl said walking up to him.

Ellis shook his hand and said “Hello, Reverend. Best offense we’ve shown all season, don’t you think?”

“I’d have to differ with you. When we played Cullman County last week and Kemper caught that forty-yard pass––”

“It was a pretty intense game, for sure.” Ellis said, nodding.

Motley came close and rested an elbow on the fence. The school band started playing “Hell’s Bells” which made him wince. It wasn’t the off-notes tooting from the horn section but that sin-stained rock-and-roll music he couldn’t bear to hear.

“Say, Ellis, when are we playing them Rattlesnakes again?”

“Come again?” Ellis didn’t like the way he said it.

“The River City Rattlesnakes. Seems like I saw in the schedule we’re suppose to play them pretty soon.”

“I don’t believe so, Reverend. I think we’ve already played them this year.”

“Is that right? Well, I’ll be a monkey’s cousin. Must be getting old in the head. You ever get that way?”

“What way is that?”

“Like you’re getting too old to do it.”

“Too old to do what?”

“To carry it all on your shoulders, brother. I’d be willin to bet them shoulders have had about all they can take.”

“Look, Carl, I’m sure you mean well, but my wife and I have a church home of our own. I appreciate your interest in my well-being––”

“It ain’t your well-bein I’m interested in.” Motley’s eyes were dark as a threatening sky. “Now you listen here Mister, I know what you’re doing out there when the sun goes down and the children are sound asleep in their beds. I’ve seen the signs! I know! Yessir, I sure do!”

Ellis was good at keeping secrets, but he was a horrible liar. His father once said if a man accuses you of something and you’re guilty, just walk away and let him go bonkers, so that’s what he did.

And it worked. Motley went spitting and yelling after him. “How did he come to you, huh? How’d he do it? Did you sell your soul to him? What’d he give you in return?”

A couple of policemen appeared behind Motley and told him he needed to leave, but he just kept on raging at Pearson’s heels.

“Look, Carl. I am not the devil, nor am I a servant of him.” Ellis pointed to the students. “Although some of them might believe it sometime because I’m hard on them, but I demand respect.”

Motley’s eyes narrowed, thinking it over, considered Floyd may have played him for a fool. “I read that book
Custos Serpentium.
You got others here in this town who are lookin for your little slimy slitherin things. Someone’s been researchin it at the archives. I found it with my computer. Got pictures of it on that Internet and everything, yeah, I’m smarter than you think, Mr. Teacher Man.”

“Fellas, would you please get him out of here?” The boys in blue tossed their coffee cups into the trash barrel and dragged Motley away, but he was still blabbing. Ellis looked around and saw hundreds of faces with their eyes glued to the unfolding drama. Motley and the two cops were nearly out of sight when the rabid reverend screamed
“HOW MANY KIDDIES HAVE YOU KILLED, MR. TEACHER MAN?!”

The question sure got everyone’s attention, but Motley’s choice of words allowed for a great deal of misinterpretation––
how many kitties have you killed
? The students would easily buy Pearson as an animal hater who probably carved up stray kitties as a hobby, but the whole town knew he and his wife had three cats that were all but worshiped, making cameos on the family Christmas cards each December.

After the laughter subsided, the second quarter began and the crazy loon from Sand Mountain was forgotten.

5

After slaying the Tigers 18-0, the Wildcats met up at Coach McGraw’s house on Palmer Road for a victory celebration. Gina rode with Jared while Dylan and Garrett followed. The McGraws welcomed the team with four cases of Pabst and a leaning tower of fresh pizza. This wasn’t typical, but spirits were soaring and they had just beaten their greatest rival with one hell of a game. Coach McGraw and his wife were grateful to cater to the boys when they did well, although the coach usually went out for drinks with Mr. Kessler if they lost.

Dylan and Garrett stayed outside on the deck overlooking the creek, sharing a half pack of menthols they had found under the bleachers. Gina lingered through the house with her arm locked around her heroic knight, ever so popular now with the star quarterback she wanted all to herself.

Of course Duke was there with his cheerleading nymphet, finishing off his fourth can of beer. Gina could tell he was still pouting over his rejection, but that was all right, let him sweat some more. She had Jared now, and if that pussy-slaying goon wanted to start something with her or Dylan, Jared would surely defend them if it came down to it.

There was a utility room off the back porch where the coach’s son, Ethan, was nailing Lindsey Stevens on the washing machine while Brock Wilcox was out back by the woodshed nibbling on some blonde he’d met while pumping gas at Avery’s. Most of the team were down in the basement watching a heated game of eight ball between Randall Yates and Corey Green until the game was over and Duke and Jared took their cues.

“You think you’re gonna wipe me out, dontcha?” Duke said.

Jared smiled, but there was no humor in it. “Rack em.”