Excessica Anthology BOX SET Winter (95 page)

Mrs.
Durling and her husband Mack, had owned and operated a variety store in the
town for twenty-six years. They both retired but she filled an old mill
building with the remnants from her store and ran a weekend 'Saturday market'
of consigned and donated goods. They didn't need the money but she needed to
stay in contact with people she had served across a counter for half a life-time.
She loved to talk and reminisce but she was not being talkative on this day.

I
smiled at her. "Well, I guess he can see if he bought sun glasses?"

"Yup,
reckon so."

I
cocked my head in her direction and muttered a, 'hmmm.'

"Would
there be anythin' else for ya Mr. Dean...?"

"How
might I run across this Billy Jennings, if you don't mind?"

She
stared at me for a long moment. "Well, ye did a fair piece callin' me the
'History Lady' 'n all...lotta people came by said they read that. Y'd prolly
find Billy at Martha's Home Cookin' round noontime."

She
flashed her eyes at me in a quick glance and turned back to the entrance to the
building. I watched her move away in her sweater and 1940's style ankle length
dress and remembered she had told me that even with a degree in Chemistry, Du
Pont was not hiring women chemist's in the 1950's. I wondered if she was
talking down to me.

There
were only five booths and seven counter stools in the badly lit restaurant and
only one single elderly man with sparse white hair and a pair of sunglasses
resting on the counter before him. He was not a big man but was a little lumpy
around the middle that made him look substantial.

"Mr.
Jennings? I'm Wesley Dean from the Newspaper. Can you spare a minute or so?
Mrs. Durling said you might be here."

He
glanced up at me, squinted a little and moved his head toward me. "She
did, did she? Did Becky tell you I got in her pants when we were thirteen, out
behind that mill she bought?"

He
caught me flatfooted. I laughed and choked and coughed then put my notebook
down on the counter and sat down beside him. "No sir, she didn't tell me
that, but her eyes sure sparkled when she said your name."

"She
got old an' I didn't see it happening. I got old too. Looked in the mirror a
while back for the first time in twenty years; m'damned hair turned white.
Sorry thing to happen to a man."

I
searched for something to say as his clear green eyes focused on me for a
moment before he turned away.

"Newspaper
man lost for words? Alert the Media!" He slapped me lightly on the
shoulder and raised his coffee cup and noisily sipped.

"How
did you lose your sight?" I did not look toward him, but at the confusion
of coffee makers and grills and condiment loaded shelves facing the counter.

"Always
had bad eyes; thick glasses, headaches...got worse and worse...glaucoma, I
think they call it...never thought I wouldn't be able to see at all."

"Sorry."

"Sorry
don't git it, sonny; I see you wear glasses...take care of yer own eyes, get
check-ups...bein' blind ain't a helluva lot a fun."

The
waitress stood in front of me, pad in hand.

"Coffee,
please..."

"Sumthin
to eat...?"

I
looked at the bowl of soup before Billy. "What kind of soup?"

"Chicken
vegetable..."

"I'd
like a small bowl and a bacon, lettuce, tomato sandwich; don't toast the
bread."

"'Kay..."
She turned on her heel, grabbed a cup, poured on the way back around and sat
the coffee in front of me.

The
interruption gave me time to frame a question. "How did you get your sight
back?"

Billy
was not perhaps an educated man but he was not dumb either. "Right to the
heart of the matter, eh? Well...I don't mind...it happened kinda slow
like...little flashes of light and funny...light headed feelings...and...the
best thing...no headaches..."

I
wanted him to keep talking. "No headaches?"

"Strangest
thing...I started seeing little white lights flitting across my eyes and my
headaches went away. I live with my daughter and I tried to tell her but she
didn't pay me no never mind."

"Your
daughter...?" I asked.

"Yeah,
she's a Bible thumper; she prays over me every day, figures I lived a bad life
and am being punished by God. She makes me go outside to smoke, rails at me for
leaving her mother, hides my booze, wants me to take a bath and change clothes
every day. Real pain in the ass woman she is."

I
looked over at him and smiled. "Women...can't live with 'em..."

"...Can't
live without 'em!"

We
male bonded in that moment in a crude way, I suppose, but still, I understood
him and in my agreement, he trusted me. I saw his shoulders relax and an easy
smile appear on his face.

"My
daughter said a Halo of God surrounded my head and she was frightened. She said
she tried to put her hand on my head and her hand tingled and she felt she had
to take her hand away. She told me she sat and watched as the Halo got larger
and went up and down my body and got larger around my head. I don't remember
any of it."

I
looked at him and blinked. "And then you could see?"

"No...it
didn't happen like that. I don't know how to say...I, I sensed gray...not
light, but not black, not dark and I didn't understand...I had not felt that I
could see anything for so long and then...then I felt I could see gray...it was
a really strange feeling."

"I
don't understand." I shrugged my shoulders and nodded to the waitress as she
put the bowl of soup in front of me.

"Christ
Almighty, newspaper man, I don't understand either but I felt something and it
started to happen and minute by minute the gray turned to white and then I
started to see blurry outlines of things. Then my daughter said goodnight and I
went to sleep and when I woke up I opened my eyes and I could see!"

"You
could see? What did you see when you woke up?"

He
shook his head and his whole body moved as he spoke. "I could see the
curtains on the window and the light streaming in, I could see the colors of
the wallpaper and the quilt on the bed. I was shocked to my very heels; I
thought I was dreaming!"

He
spooned soup and so did I and my sandwich arrived and it looked thick and good
and the first bite was BLT heaven.

"They
make a good sandwich."

"Good
food here...always has been; been comin' here since m' wife passed."

I
swallowed and took a sip of coffee. "What do you think happened; that you
can see again?"

"Act
of God, no doubt. I don't deserve it but I sure am thankful."

"A
miracle for sure..." I said, not knowing what else to say.

He
looked askance at me and went back to spooning his soup.

I
finished my sandwich; we paid our bills and left the restaurant together.

He
didn't tell me much more about his experience but he did give me another name
that was not in the files I had from my daughter. Before we parted company, he
laid a hand on my shoulder and spoke in a low serious voice. "That's not
all that happened to me. I feel young and healthy again. I got my appetite
back, I don't just drip when I take a piss and when I take a deep breath my
whole chest fills up. I haven't felt this healthy in years and years."

I
watched him walk away from me and he did have a youthful spring to his steps. I
just shook my head slowly and turned away.

That
name led me to another empty house. But a neighbor lady looked through a screen
door: "Hey you!"

I
turned to the sound, walked a few steps and said: "Hello there!"

"They
took her away to the looney-bin coupla weeks ago. Funny things happnin' round
that house."

She
wouldn't say much more...no strange sounds, but flickering lights coming from
the now empty house that still continued. I noticed the blind was down on the
door as she closed it; I looked as I walked away; all the windows were closed
and shaded.

I
smoke...a lot. Couple, three packs a day when I am working. My desk and library
are in a small child's bedroom maybe ten by twelve or so. I kept the one window
cracked open about four inches at the bottom to keep a little air flowing
through the screen and into the house. Even the mesh filters covering the fans
on my computer tower turn nicotine brown in a week or so. I try not to think
about my lungs.

It
was through that small gap in the window that I heard an unusual sound. I muted
the cable news channel and cocked my head to hear better; I heard the faint
sound of a struggle and then a muted high pitched scream.

I
had leather soled house slippers on. I grabbed a jacket and the night stick my
Marine son-in- law had given me. I didn't like keeping a gun around the house,
not since my hunting days. I went quickly and quietly out the front door and
around the side of the house back to where the window faced onto a large lawn
and overhanging red oak tree.

It
took my eyes a little time to adjust to the dim light of a street lamp a block
away before I saw movement on the ground under the tree and another muffled
scream.

"Hey,
you bastard!" I shouted as I ran forward with the night stick in my right
hand. "What the fuck's goin' on?"

A
dark figure rose before me appearing huge in the shadows. I swung the metal
night stick hard as I saw an arm and aimed for it.

"Oww!
Fuck! Goddamn man, you broke my fuckin' arm!"

I
stepped forward and swung again, at his head this time, but he ducked
underneath and stumbled backwards, away from me. I moved forward until he took
off running across a small leaf filled drainage ditch before I turned back to
the crumpled figure sprawled out on the ground.

"Are
you okay?"

I
heard a choked sob and then crying as I knelt down beside a small blond haired
female figure. "Are you hurt?"

"Don't
know..." she whimpered.

I
reached a hand out to her. "Can you get up?"

She
took my hand and the cried out in pain as she tried to pull herself up.
"Ma, my chest hurts really bad..."

I
took the cell phone out of my jacket pocket and dialed 911, gave them the
address and asked for an ambulance and then draped the jacket over her upper
body.

The
police and fire department building was only a few blocks away; I could hear
the volunteer siren start up and then the cough of a diesel engine.

"They'll
be here in a minute. You're gonna be okay."

She
huddled under the jacket, shivering and crying. I put my hand gently on her
head and stroked her hair until I saw the flashing lights coming down the
street. I stood up and walked out to guide them in.

One
cop and two para-medics had her bundled up and on a stretcher and into the
ambulance quickly and the cop was asking questions before the tail lights
disappeared down the street.

I
answered all the questions, twice, and told the officer all I knew. He wanted
to me to come to the station and sign a report.

"Now...?"
I asked.

"Yes,
Sir, if you don't mind."

Well
I did mind. But what was the point? I climbed into the patrol car.

"You'll
bring me back?"

"Sure,
Mr. Dean, no problem..."

Well,
it must have been a problem. I repeated what I had told him twice before twice
again, signed a piece of paper and sat. Half an hour later I asked about my
ride back. "Can't leave right now; be just a bit longer til' the medics
get back."

I
gave it ten more minutes then got up and walked out the door without a word. It
was only a few blocks to walk back; I should have just left after I signed the
report.

I
walked past the tree in the yard and retrieved the night stick, picked up my
jacket with the cell phone still in the pocket and called it a night.

It
was several weeks into my investigation into the mysterious lights,
'fireflies', as I came to call them, before I began to fully realize what I had
stumbled upon. Soon after my discovery of the large farmhouse on fifty acres of
tree lined land and the make-shift laboratory in the basement, I had my first
visit from the Feds.

Men
in Black, I called them. Six cars full arrived in my parking lot late one
night, they surrounded the house and banged on both the front and back door at
the same time.

It
did not surprise me that they showed up. The case files that led me to the
strange anomalies in and around this small town had been tagged and information
copied to several Federal Agencies. What did surprise me was the almost
over-polite manner in which they questioned me. They wanted information; they
wanted to know what I had learned. I had very little to tell them and I told
them almost everything I knew.

They
left after less than half an hour, left me shaking my head and wondering. The
telephone rang and my frantic sounding daughter, who had let me read the files,
was sobbing into my ear. "You were right! The damned FBI came to my
house...they just left, they took the files and told me I had been taken off
the case. Dad, what the hell is really going on out there? I'm sorry I was such
a bitch to you...are you still mad? Do you forgive me? I'm really sorry."