The Forgotten Eden (44 page)

“
A few things had changed in our world, in addition to no longer living in Carlsdale. Wanting to focus on something I enjoyed, I checked on my favorite sports teams. The Braves had begun their fade, but the Falcons looked like they might be okay with Mike Vick. Several years removed from their Super Bowl loss to the Broncos, I wanted them to do so well, being my dad’s team. An upsetting thing my family had to tell me about, though, was the fact Carl Peterson and Sheriff McCracken were both dead.

“
It didn’t help matters that all five of us, including Uncle Monty and Aunt Martha, could hardly go anywhere without being followed. I mean, your buddies from the bureau would always be nearby, all spiffed up in their goddamned dark suits and sunglasses!”

Jack shot a playful look and Peter smiled, surely aware the jab wasn’t directed at him.

“
Shortly after school started, Grandpa, Jeremy, and I decided to revisit our old home in Carlsdale,” Jack continued. “Jeremy and I wanted to return as soon as I healed up enough to go. But Grandpa steadfastly refused. He only relented when we reluctantly agreed to the strict understanding we’d visit only what remained of our property. We made the trip the second weekend in September, and Uncle Monty and Aunt Martha joined us.

“
Two gray sedans followed us all the way from Tuscaloosa down to Carlsdale, tailing us by a couple hundred feet on Highway Forty-three. As soon as we exited onto Baileys Bend Road, they didn’t follow us further. Perhaps, whoever was in the cars knew where we were headed and didn’t need to physically confirm this. Once we turned onto Lelan’s Way, my uncle whistled under his breath, while my aunt whispered
‘
Great God Almighty!
’
Grandpa, Jeremy, and I sat in solemn silence as my uncle’s Navigator crept up the road to our former home.

“
The field we almost died in sat to our left. A large fir was impaled upside down into the earth near the very spot where Jeremy’s truck came to rest in the ditch. I realize tornados can leave behind some pretty bizarre reminders from their visitations, like an occasional piece of straw drilled into a telephone pole and shit like that. But, I’ll bet very few of them leave behind a token as disturbing as what we looked at right then. It made me shudder to think just how close we’d come to dying.

“
Uncle Monty almost stopped the truck, but Grandpa urged him to keep moving so we could get on with the reason for our visit. As soon as we reached the Palmer’s place everyone gasped at the barrenness of the land where our beloved farmhouse once stood. We all got out of the car to investigate everything, catching a glimpse now and then of someone peeking through the curtains at the Palmer’s—those nosey assholes! It really bothers me that nothing, I mean
absolutely
nothing was harmed on their property, not even a goddamned daisy!”

“
That’s one of the things Mark Jenkins said about the scene at your former home,” said Peter, another journal in his hands. It wouldn’t have surprised Jack if the pages laid open detailed this very event. “He’s been with the bureau eighteen years now, and over the last few years he and I’ve gotten to be great friends, Jack. He’s another guy acutely interested in your family’s history.”

“
Then I guess he must’ve been as amazed as we were at the condition of the tool shed,” said Jack. “I mean, aside from not receiving a scratch from the twister, I noticed for the first time its paint was free of nicks and any signs of wear—which one would expect, as old and vulnerable as the damn thing is. Grandpa swears to this day that he’s only painted the doors one time in his lifetime—never the walls.”

“
Yes…Mark mentioned that as well,” Peter concurred. “But I can tell you about that later on.”

“
Well, okay,” said Jack, ambivalent about moving on just yet.
How
much stuff do these guys have on us??

“
When we finally decided we’d seen enough, we drove back home to Tuscaloosa,” he continued, when ready. “The second to last time I visited our old home, Grandpa soon sold it to a wealthy Australian named Malcolm Donohue. Mr. Donohue, as I’m sure you know, purchased the Johnson’s farm and eventually the Palmer’s place too.”

“
Most of Carlsdale, actually, Jack,” said Peter. “He purchased the woods and clearing you mentioned as well. He’s building an amusement park incorporating several ancient Mississippian Indian ruins recently uncovered near your old home. At least that’s what the original permit lists as his proposed development plan. From what I understand, he has completed the first few phases, while the remainder of the project is on hold. An NCAI petition to insure the protection of the ruins is currently under review before the Alabama Supreme Court, so we’ll have to wait and see what happens with that.”

“
Really? Well that explains what Jeremy and I discovered around Thanksgiving that year,” said Jack, suddenly feeling privileged to learn another connection related to his experience. “Do I have time to share it, or will your recorder run out of space?”

“
It’s still got about half an hour left,” Peter advised. “Regardless, I want to hear what you’ve got to say.”

“
I’ll try to make this quick,” said Jack. “Strictly against any of us returning to Carlsdale, Grandpa felt we’d already seen everything of importance there. To him, better to remember our old place as it once was.

“
Jeremy and I managed to live with this mandate for a month or so. But, we really missed our friends. Grandpa remained strong in his resolve to keep us from going back, until Thanksgiving break. He finally relented because our old buddies were out of school that Friday, as were we.

“
Grandpa’s orders were for us to stay away from the woods and the river. We promised to obey his wishes; fully knowing we’d visit those very places before the day ended. If he’d felt up to it, I’m sure he would’ve insisted on joining us, just to make sure we stayed out of trouble.

“
Jeremy and I were excited. My brother had purchased a brand new truck just two days earlier with the insurance money he received for his previous one. He could hardly wait to show Freddy and Ronnie, and I looked forward to having him show it off to my buddy Lee as well.

“
Maybe not as awesome as his other truck, a GMC, the Dodge Ram he’d purchased was still a beauty. Metallic dark purple in color, it shimmered in the sunlight on our uncle and aunt’s main driveway. Equipped with a shiny chrome spoiler and headers, the chrome wheels were the most expensive ones he could find in Tuscaloosa. Everything else top of the line as well, for my first few trips riding in it, I was pretty fearful. God forbid I might scuff up the interior or spill something!

“
We arrived at Freddy’s home in Demopolis late that morning, and went out for a burger with him and Ronnie. Then we left them to visit Lee. It felt strange driving along Lelan’s Way in a truck with Jeremy again. Even weirder than I’d felt with the rest of our family back in September.

“
Lee, as I believe I told you, lived right across the street from the field we wrecked in. He and his family have since moved to Birmingham. I imagine Mr. Donohue had a hand in that, too, especially since the Hornes lived just a few houses away from us…. That afternoon, Lee and his family were fixing to head over to Mobile for the rest of the weekend, so we didn’t visit long with him either. We now had plenty of time to visit our old home again, and everywhere else we planned to go.

“
We didn’t spend much time that day at our former residence, as the only thing we desired to see was the old tool shed again. Neither of us could get over the fact it’d remained unscathed by the tornado’s furious assault. I discussed Bobby’s disappearance with my brother for the first time. He recalled hearing something about it on the news one night, though he hadn’t paid much attention. I shared what I’d learned about Bobby’s abduction in Mississippi, including the stuff about the reptilian tracks and the newly discovered hot spring in Bienville National Forest.

“
He asked me where I’d obtained my information, since he wasn’t aware of much of what I told him. I confessed that for the most part it’d come from
The Star
and the
National Enquirer
. My brother looked at me as if trying to decide whether he should burst out laughing or scold me instead.

“‘
You’ve got to be fucking kidding!’ he said. ‘You got your facts straight from a couple of grocery store tabloids?’ He threw his head back and laughed heartily, so tickled at this.

“‘
Jackie, they’re goddamn gossip papers for Christ’s sake!’ he scoffed, looking at me incredulously. ‘You’ve got to be careful what you read into that shit, man! I mean, was the article you read plastered right smack between the story about the baby with three heads and another stating Elvis is alive and well amongst the Aborigines?’

“‘
He placed his hands on his hips in an effort to keep from doubling over in his amusement, his face wearing the smirk I’d learned to loathe so dearly.

“
Infuriated, I couldn’t think of anything to refute his point. I decided right then to show him some hard evidence. Pretty sure that for whatever happened in Mississippi to occur, something significant would’ve had to happen first in our area. I knew I’d find evidence in the clearing.

“
Jeremy agreed to let me try and prove my theory, still chuckling to himself as we got back in his truck. Unbeknownst to us at the time, that’d be the last time we ever visited our old property. I got one last good look at it as we drove away. I believe the image of our decimated yard will remain with me forever.

“‘
Jack, even if that stuff you told me about had been in the
‘
Constitution
’
or the
‘
Herald
’
, or even in
‘
USA Today’
, you’ve still got to be careful,’ Jeremy told me as we turned onto Baileys Bend Road, his brotherly admonishment not yet finished. ‘I’d take all that pseudo-journalistic crap with a grain of salt if I were you.’

“‘
All right,’ I said. ‘But, do you think you can wait and see what we find out before you lecture me some more?’

“
He eyed me like our grandfather so often eyed him, as if wondering whether my remark was smart enough to warrant a solid backhand across my mouth. When he looked away and back to the road, I could tell he still debated the issue. Once on Black Warrior Road and approaching the spot where the old bridge once stood, he completely forgot my remarks, as did I.

“
In place of the rickety wooden structure stood a brand new one, and what a new one at that! Colorful and fancy, like something straight out of Disneyworld. Wide enough to allow two vehicles to travel along its length side by side, it had a steel chain barrier across its opening with a sign advising all trespassers to keep out. Of course, at the time, we had no idea Malcolm Donohue owned most of the area by then.

“‘
The barrier enough to keep us from driving the truck across the river, it didn’t deter us from crossing by foot. After parking the truck near the same spot we left Grandpa’s Jeep four months earlier, we set out across the bridge and reached the clearing a short while later, where even more surprises awaited us.

“‘
Just as the tornado flattened our property, the landscape here was likewise altered. But, rather than by nature or a supernatural force, it was done by other people. Two bulldozers and a backhoe were parked near the middle of the clearing, and the fort remains and rock formation had been reduced to two piles of rubble. The entire area barren, as the land was recently graded. Only the Indian burial mounds and the surrounding woods that bordered the clearing were spared.

“
I walked toward what was left of the rock formation, with Jeremy limping after me once he realized where I headed. His knee still bothered him quite a bit back then, as it ended up taking a good year for him to walk pain-free.

“‘
What’s up, Jackie?’ he asked, slightly winded once he caught up with me.

“‘
I’ve got a hunch, based on the so-called ‘pseudo-journalism’ I told you about a short while ago,’ I said, and hurried over to the pile of dirt and rock fragments lying where the hot spring once sat.

“
It took me a moment to locate what I was searching for, the remains of the two pools from the hot spring. Both were full of dirt and debris. Only a tiny gurgling brook from the ancient spring remained, leaving a small puddle in the main pool’s center.

“‘
Well??
’
he demanded, when he caught up to me again.

“‘
It fits, Jeremy. It all makes perfect sense now.’

“
I pointed to the puddle and then briefly explained what it had to do with the tabloid stories. It seemed obvious the machinery surrounding us couldn’t have shut down the hot spring, despite the damage it’d definitely wrought on the rocks themselves. Whatever had provided the thermal energy for the pools had definitely left the area, and I was determined to prove to him that it’d moved on to Mississippi.

“‘
I’ll grant you it’s not a good idea to rely on tabloid shit for your news coverage, but it brought me here. Right?’ I remember telling him. ‘What about all of
this
, man? Where do you think the hot spring ‘disappeared’ to? Don’t you think it’s possible it could’ve gone someplace else? And one just happened to be discovered last month where it didn’t exist before??