The Forgotten Eden (37 page)

“‘
The earliest solid evidence came from the sixteenth century and the evil Spanish conqueror Ferdinand Desoto. As you might’ve learned in school, Desoto came through Alabama on his relentless search for gold and other treasures, leaving a path of bloody destruction in his wake. The Indians around here didn’t have much gold, as was the case throughout North America.

“
But even though they placed a much higher emphasis on spiritual things, like the idea of being one with the Great Spirit, most tribes still believed in an ancient and largely forgotten golden metropolis. Its location could only exist on holy ground. This usually meant a place where the earth’s energy is closer to the ground’s surface, easily detected if one knew what to look for.’

“‘
Like a place similar to the hot spring we saw today?’ Jeremy suggested.

“‘
Precisely!’ Grandpa was extremely pleased that my brother remained interested in what he had to say. ‘Desoto went on an endless search for this fabled city, thinking he could plunder it and make himself immensely rich and powerful. Many innocent Natives died as a result of his frustration.

“‘
One tribe of Chickasaws lived not far from here, and Desoto heard they knew where the golden city was located,’ he told us. ‘Some members of the tribe had recently seen a ‘golden mountain’ looming high above the trees near the basin of where the Black Warrior and Tombigbee rivers merge. When he arrived at the Chickasaws’ village, Tishomingo, the tribe’s chieftain, pointed him to the area where the recent event took place. The conquistador general set off across the river and into the woods, ending up with his army in the very clearing we visited today, finding just the burial grounds and the bubbling hot spring and its pools.

“‘
Enraged, as he thought he’d been deliberately deceived, Desoto slew every man, woman, and child in the village, except for Tishomingo and his immediate family, whom he instead brought to the clearing. After his men brutally raped Tishomingo’s wife and two daughters in front of him, he had them dropped to their deaths one by one into the scalding water of the boiling hot spring’s upper pool along with Tishomingo’s three sons. The Chickasaw chieftain was then thrown into the pool by Desoto himself after first running him threw with his sword.’

“
I cringed as Grandpa said this, scarcely believing Desoto’s brutality, whose exploits were barely touched upon during my education.

“‘
What a way to go,’ deadpanned Jeremy, always the cynic. ‘I’ll bet they wished he’d just finished them off at the village like he did the others.’

“‘
Actually it was even worse,’ Grandpa told us. ‘The conquistadors waited around the lower pool, where that thing crawled out and chased us today. Eventually, Tishomingo and his family’s remains drifted down into the pool and the conquistadors fished them out of the water and scattered them throughout the clearing for the wild animals and scavengers to devour. According to what Dr. Stratton knew on the subject, the intense heat from the water cooked them like stew meat, the flesh eventually separating from the bones. An easy matter at that point to scatter body parts.’

“
Now Jeremy grimaced.

“‘
How’d anyone know about
that
, Grandpa?’ he asked. ‘It sure as hell wasn’t mentioned when I was in school, and I’ll bet not for you two either.’

“‘
It wasn’t, just like most of the awful things that happened to Native Americans,’ said Grandpa, his tone regretful. ‘One of the Chickasaw warriors survived, watching this horror from a safe distance, probably ashamed he didn’t have the guts to come to Tishomingo’s family’s defense and die valiantly. The only eyewitness, no written accounts were ever found from Desoto or his men to verify….’

“
Suddenly, Grandpa straightened up in his chair as if listening to some sound unheard by either Jeremy or me. His expression grew serious and the worry that’d been lingering returned full force into his eyes.

“‘
What’s wrong, Grandpa?’ I asked.

“‘
Probably nothing,’ he said. ‘I’ll be right back.’

“
He stepped over to one of the dining room windows and peered through the blinds. Then he walked past both of us, heading into the living room and on over to the gun case. He grabbed his shotgun, loaded it, and proceeded from room to room throughout the old farmhouse, shutting and locking every window as he went. A few minutes later, the sudden hum of the air conditioner broke the silence. Creaks upon the stairs told us we could expect Grandpa’s return at any moment.

“‘
So, what was it?’ asked Jeremy, once he returned.

“‘
Nothing,’ said Grandpa. ‘Just a feeling, I guess. I thought I heard someone, or something, brush against these windowpanes from outside. I checked everything and brought this along just in case.’

“
He patted the palm of his hand against the gun’s butt, much like he’d done two nights before in the kitchen.

“‘
I think I’ll speed this up a bit. Just a few more things and then we’ll break for a snack or dessert if you’d like. How’s that sound?’

“‘
We both gave him an enthusiastic nod.

“‘
One thing I thought about while shutting things up around here were the ‘miahluschkas’ from Jack’s story last night,’ he said, once he sat down again. ‘Dr. Stratton mentioned them, too. But I’m not sure his miahluschkas and yours are the same. His miahluschkas were part of the legends of the Cherokee, Choctaw, and Chickasaw tribes. There could be other tribes that believed in them, too, I suppose.

“‘
They’re assigned spirits, if you will, who’ve been charged to protect sacred burial grounds and meeting places. These spirits are bound to this arrangement until the end of time, or until the bones they’re guarding are completely dissolved into Mother Earth. A lot of hauntings have been attributed to them. That happens when, whether by intent or even inadvertently, the sacred grounds are disturbed in some way—like the Bell Witch legend up in Tennessee you once asked me about, Jeremy.

“‘
Anyway, Jack, your miahluschkas seem quite different. Maybe their role is unique in Genovene’s world. They remind me of an old Cherokee legend about a race of tiny people living in Appalachia several hundred years ago. I forget their Indian names, but in English they were referred to as the ‘moon-eyed people’ by the Cherokee, with real pale skin and eyes completely gray. They couldn’t see so well in the full light of day.

“‘
According to this legend, these people were forced to leave Appalachia by the Native Americans moving into the area at that time. Their existence was partially responsible for the lack of fear many southern tribes displayed when first encountering the European settlers, since most southeastern tribes had reportedly encountered these mysterious white people at one point or another….’

“
Grandpa paused and shook his head, an embarrassed smile on his face. Jeremy had begun drumming his fingers once more.

“‘
Sorry about getting sidetracked again, boys,’ said Grandpa. ‘Why don’t we grab some dessert, and I’ll finish this up.’

“‘
He and I had a piece of pie, and Jeremy lit up another cigarette. When ready to return to the dining room, they each grabbed a beer and I picked up another soda. Once we sat down again, Grandpa continued where he left off.

“‘
Let me summarize what’s important and then I’ll skip ahead to the events leading up to your folks’ disappearance,’ he said, sounding somewhat apprehensive about what lay ahead in his story. ‘Dr Stratton felt that the City of Gold’s permanent home in North America had to be in Alabama or Mississippi. Lots of written accounts from settlers mentioned the same types of sightings as the Native Americans, including a couple of very old plantation diaries, where task masters talked of some slaves sleepwalking into the nearby woods, while none of their fellow slaves could shake them awake or dissuade them from their course. These unfortunate folks were never seen or heard from again.

“‘
Most accounts centered around Natchez, Mississippi, and here in our own neck of the woods, though there hasn’t been a reported sighting in the Natchez area since just before the Civil War, when the hot spring near the Mississippi River suddenly dried up. Nobody even remembers its exact location. Some folks argued vehemently years ago with Jack Stratton, saying the hot spring never existed—despite documentation he’d tirelessly gathered to the contrary.

“‘
Here in our area, there’s been a steady stream of sightings and strange occurrences among non-Indian folks since the place was first settled nearly three hundred years ago. Even at the old fort, legends tell of people disappearing without a trace. Perhaps the fort was closed because of this. But it didn’t stop the phenomenon from continuing on up to the present day. It’s definitely how the ‘Season’ came to be known around these parts. I know my grandmother used it on several occasions when somebody from here turned up missing. She only jumped the gun one time I know of—’

“‘
Grandpa, what happened to your talisman??’ I asked, since he hadn’t answered my question yet.

“‘
Okay, okay!’ He laughed while motioning for me to hold my horses a moment. ‘Monty accused me of hiding it from him and was going to beat me up. I finally had to tell him I’d already given it to Lisa Ann and she’d in turn given it to her great uncle. I cried, thinking he’d go ask for it back, but he didn’t.

“‘
It may just be a coincidence, though I seriously doubt it. A homeless man named Virgil Hannah once hung out near the feed lot, in business even way back then. At that time, Pete Aderley’s daddy, Shannon Aderley operated it. Anyway, Lisa Ann said Virgil started keeping an eye on the Stratton farmhouse and acting real suspicious. This took place not long after Monty threatened me, which happened near the Stratton’s front yard.

“‘
A few days later, Dr. Stratton went to look for the talisman in his room. But, it was gone. The talisman was never seen again and neither was Virgil—not by anyone. He simply vanished....’

“
Grandpa’s voice trailed off. He remained quiet for nearly a minute, a wan smile on his face.

“‘
Are you okay, Grandpa?’ Jeremy actually looked worried.

“‘
Yeah…yes, I am,’ he replied, his thin smile fading. ‘Let’s go ahead and get through the hard stuff…. Your grandma, Elsie Smith, changed my life forever when we met. The prettiest creature I’d ever laid eyes on…I was twenty and Dr. Stratton had passed away by then. Lisa Ann and I remained friends, but the romance between us had waned long ago. Dr. Stratton’s funeral, by the way, was closed casket. For a long time the older folks in Carlsdale felt he’d faked his death in order to live out his final days down in Valenzuela, where it was rumored he had another estate. That idea never sat well with me, and I now believe he’s the old man Jack met while hiding in that garden yesterday.’

“
Jeremy raised his eyebrows in surprise at this statement and finished his beer. Like me, he’d been following Grandpa’s story closely since our snack break. This last bit caught him off guard, and he seemed to be searching his memory for the details from my story to verify what Grandpa just said.

“‘
I’ll come back to this point if we need to, Jeremy,’ Grandpa told him, since he knew I’d already made the connection. ‘For now, I’d better move on, so we’re not sitting here until the wee hours of the morning. All right?’

“
My brother nodded and looked over at me, suspiciously.

“‘
Thanks, boys, I do appreciate it. We’re headed through some pretty tough territory.
Please
, bear with me if I struggle some, since what I’m telling you from here on out I intend to never repeat again….

“‘
Elsie and I dated for a good three years before I proposed. I remember being a nervous wreck the day I asked her to marry me. Hell, it took me nearly six months to work up the courage! I shouldn’t have been so worried, because as soon as I popped the question she cried
‘
yes
!’
and threw her arms around my neck so hard I thought she might break it.’

“
He laughed, but also tears welled in his eyes. He dabbed at them with a napkin before going on.

“‘
I think we both knew in our hearts we’d be married someday from the very moment we met,’ he said. ‘Soon after we officially tied the knot we moved in here, since Momma needed help keeping this place up. My grandma was pretty feeble by then. She passed away a year later, while Elsie was pregnant with your mom.

“‘
When Julie was born that summer, this house came to life like it’d never done before. She truly was something special, and as pretty as her mother. Same hair and eyes…her smile lit up any room she stepped into. Smart, too, but I guess I’m getting away from the point of my story again.’

“
Grandpa exhaled slowly in an attempt to maintain his composure and finished his beer. He stood up from the table and asked us if we’d like another drink from the kitchen, since he intended to get himself another brew. We both agreed to that, and he left us for a moment.

“
Getting later in the evening, he turned on the kitchen light and walked over to the back door. He turned on the porch lights as well, and briefly opened the back door to take a look outside. Satisfied nothing was amiss in the backyard, he closed and locked the door again. He grabbed another soda for me along with a couple more beers for himself and Jeremy, and walked back into the dining room.

“
Hopefully, I can finish this rambling monologue before we’ve finished these,’ he said, handing us our drinks. He turned on the room’s chandelier, but before he sat down again, he moved over to the French-paned windows, peering cautiously between the blinds.