Talisman (6 page)

A subtle
“squeak”
pounded my eardrums.  Daddy was still chowing down and clearly hadn’t heard a peep.  But I did, and I
knew
what it was.  I remained still and listened intently, locking on to the sound’s source and direction.  Without looking, I reached down beside my chair and snatched the tiny field mouse in mid-run.  I strutted over to the backdoor for a merciful reprieve.

“Nice catch…
as usual
,” Daddy beamed.  “Is that a new visitor or the
same one?
”

I held the cute little guy up in the air, checking for the familiar gray patch on its belly that resembled a heart.  “Same one,” I affirmed with a wink and then shooed it onto the back porch.

“I’m going upstairs to finish getting ready for school,” I announced. “Could you be a dear and get rid of that glue trap behind the fridge?  Oh, and be sure to let Mom know that I ‘didn’t touch it’.”

“
Will do,” my father chuckled.  “And I’ll tell her that our little friend is history…
for now
.”

“
Thank you, Daddy,” I grinned and gave him a kiss on the cheek.  As soon as I’d rinsed off my dishes and loaded them in the dishwasher, I headed for my room.

“See ya
after school,” I confirmed as I exited the kitchen.

“I’m
sure
you will,” Daddy chuckled.

My father
never
liked to say the phrase “good-bye”.  He thought it was inappropriately “final”.  You would have to correct yourself real quick if you ever said it to him accidentally.  He preferred, “See-ya” or the occasional, “Later gator”.  Personally, I thought it was a quirky OCD thing, but I humored him —
out of love
.

I scurried up the
stairs and over to Chloe’s door where I tapped softly — several times.  “Are you up?” I asked and waited.  When I didn’t hear any movement, my
taps
turned into
bangs
, which were notably louder and longer.  That sure got Sleeping Beauty’s attention.

Her door flew open in a matter of seconds. 
“
Jeez!
  I’M UP!” Chloe barked.  “Do you have to bang on my door like that?  I’m not freakin’ deaf!”

“Your breakfast is ready.  Don’t make me late — like you
usually
do,” I piped back.

“What did
you fix?” Chloe questioned as she took a deep sniff of the aroma lingering through the house.  “Is that
french-toast
I smell?”

“Yes
,” I confirmed, “and apple crisp.”

Chloe tossed her raven hair back and stomped her f
oot on the floor.  “Shit!” she raged.  “Why don’t you just throw a couple of sticks of butter on my plate and sprinkle some damn cinnamon on it! 
I can’t eat that!
  I have to fit into my sophomore court dress tomorrow! 
Ugh!
  Don’t you
ever
think?”

She was certainly being pissy about the menu. 
I never see you making an attempt to prepare any meals around here
, I grumbled quietly as I humored her little rant.

“Chloe, just grab a yogurt out of the fridge and quit your bitchin’.
  Heaven forbid you have a
blow-out
on the field tomorrow night. 
How embarrassing!
” I exclaimed as I placed my hand over my mouth, pretending to gasp.

The little witch threw me a dirty look and then slammed the door in my face.

“Be ready in
fifteen minutes
,” I grunted through the door.

“Mike’s picking me up.  You can leave
ANY TIME
you want!” Chloe yelled back.

“Good!”
I snapped and dashed into my room.  I quickly ran my fingers through my hair to make sure it was dry.  The last thing I needed was the cold air outside hitting a damp head of hair.  That thought sent a shiver straight down my spine.  Once my jacket had been zipped snugly to the top, I grabbed my things and flew down the stairs, headed straight for the front door.

Despite the chilly morning air goading a speedy recovery, I
finally
found my car keys hiding in the bottom of my junky purse. 
Those
weren’t as easy to “track” as any critters. I gazed at the old two-story farmhouse my father had built with his own two-hands as I waited patiently for my old ’69 Charger to crank-up.  It was actually my father’s when he was my age, and it looked it too.  But, hey — it was still a car.  Thankfully the DMV of West Virginia still considered it one as well, or I wouldn’t have any way to get around this small hick-town.  I didn’t mean to trash my hometown, but in reality, that’s what it was.  No sense in candy-coating it.

A wave of anxiety hit me like a ton of bricks as I started my drive down the mountain.  I never particularly liked the stretch of Shiloh Ridge that twisted along my daily path.  It didn’t matter, come dusk or dawn, a foreboding feeling always rode shotgun with me.  I kept my eyes on the road, my head in the present, and my foot firmly depressed on the gas pedal.  Possibly a little too hard from time to time.  The secure confines of my car helped, but today I felt eerily vulnerable — almost naked — like I was zooming past that godawful patch of land in a convertible waving a sign that read, “I’m right here black cloud of death!” 
Ugh!
  I wasn’t a scaredy-cat by nature, but there was something about that mist that was straight-up evil.  A fact I still believed today and burned from the depths of my soul.  And for some unknown reason “that particular day”, it had its sinister sights set on five-year old little me.  In my eyes, Dorothy had it easy.  The only thing yellow about my road were some fading double-lines, but a wicked witch with a horde of flying monkeys would have been a much fairer storm to weather.

I came to a
“screeching”
stop at the bottom of the mountain because Mike Riverside and his shiny red Camaro cut over into
my lane
when he veered onto the uphill road!  Stupid, arrogant, ASS!  Once my tirade of horn-blowing and finger-saluting had played out, I found myself idly parked and staring at Highway 52 in a haze.  My mind egged me to veer right and “go straight”, but my heart inevitably turned my head to the left for a curious gander down the road.  The bustling sights and sounds of the Riverside Pocahontas Coalmine hailed my attention like a caution flag. The parking lot alone looked way more crowded than usual.

Maybe
the extra crews are because of the impending meeting today? Ugh!  Mr. Riverside just can’t shut down the mine!  Over half the town works there.
  I didn’t want to think about what its closing would do to the area or how devastating it would be for all the miners’ families — especially
mine
.  The sight was only fueling my restlessness, so as soon as all the speeding coal trucks had whizzed past, I pulled onto the road for my mundane morning commute.

The temperature
had turned considerably colder, even for early November. I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if we had an early winter this year.  Just thinking about the first snowfall made me reach over to crank up the heat a bit.  This was the time of year when West Virginia’s countryside was truly spectacular —
my favorite time
.  Nothing beat the beautiful colors of the fall foliage cascading over the mountains with a blazing autumn sunset igniting the sky.  I treasured each and every one of them.  You could be in the most horrible mood, and it would always lend you a better outlook on everything.  Nature’s way of putting things into perspective.

And I really could have used one of them to lull me into a state of tranquility…Right freakin’ now!

I found myself thinking along the way (
yet again)
, how
EVERYTHING
around here always remained the same.  I drove past the Colemans’ house.  Like clockwork, there they were, sitting outside on their front porch and rocking in their chairs while they watched the cars go by.  A mile down the road, I spied our Chief of Police, Marc Roberts. 
As usual
, he sat parked in his cruiser beside the Kwik-Serve, waiting in the shadows to bust one last speeder before their morning shift change.  But one of my personal favorites was the Johnsons’ house.  Their yard-full of faded plastic Christmas decorations and chunky colored-lights smothering their bushes stayed in place —
ALL YEAR LONG
— but they only turned them on from Thanksgiving to New Year’s Day.  I guessed they had a
little
sense.  Just a few more weeks and it would be time for their annual illumination.  They were known around these parts as “The Griswolds”.

There was something sentimental, yet somber about my small hometown.  I loved it and hated
it, both at the same time.  Welch was the only home I’d ever known, and even though I held many fond memories, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I wasn’t meant to stay here
forever
.  Absolutely nothing about my town ever changed, so I knew it had to be me.  Something was churning restlessly inside me and had been for a good while.  I longed for a change.  Something unfamiliar.  Something exciting.  Something amazing that would fill my unworldly eyes with stars and knock me slick off my feet.  And I knew I would never find it anywhere around here.  Something that “spectacular” probably requires a passport.

BUT
, in no way was I seeking A-N-Y-T-H-I-N-G as horrifyingly mind-boggling as what I’d just revisited in my nightmarish dream. 
Spectacular
, I thought with a resolute nod. 
Definitely not “spooky”!

My car w
ound through downtown Welch like it was on autopilot.
The ornate architecture of the four and five story buildings lining McDowell Street was charming and reminiscent of a booming era that sadly had long passed.  You wouldn’t know to look at it now, but our town used to be one of the wealthiest counties in the Appalachian region.  Coal was Welch’s life-blood, but unfortunately through the years, its veins had almost dried up completely.  There was once a time when our county was home to 38 different mines, but tragically it had dwindled down to just one.  All the others had closed due to various reasons, but they all hinged on the mine’s profitability. 
If the owner wasn’t making money, then why keep a mine open?
  The union’s unwillingness to negotiate their contracts during hard times caused the owners to lose even more money and ultimately forced a lot of them into bankruptcy.  Then there were several instances when the owners weren’t staying on top of the required safety regulations.  The state supervisors would come in and shut them down themselves.  A couple of sites had been excavated to their limits and simply couldn’t unearth any more coal.  Our area’s economic industry was already depressing enough.  I sure hoped the situation wouldn’t get any worse.  It wasn’t like I was planning to hang around Welch for the rest of my life, but I didn’t want it to become a ghost town.  There were too many good people who lived here and jobs were scarce. The livelihoods of all its residents would be shattered —
possibly forever
.

As my car cruised down
our town’s main thoroughfare, I spotted Mr. Estell sitting alone on a bench outside the Flat Iron Drug Store.  I didn’t know his first name.  He was just one of those strange drifters who didn’t talk to many people, if any.  Mr. Estell roamed the streets, always hunched over, with his hands shoved deep inside the pockets of his raggedy tan-colored trench coat.  His black and white hair was never anything less than wiry and unkempt.  Something about him gave me the willies —
seriously
— but it wasn’t in my nature to be rude to him just because he was
different
.  I’d always tried my best to steer clear of him.  Funny thing though, he always seemed to be “popping up”.

Especially here lately
, I pondered.

It didn’t take any time at all to breeze through town. 
Why should it?
  There were only two traffic lights and one of them just blinked.  The sun was starting to peek through the clouds, shining brightly down on Welch High School, home of the Golden Knights.  Our school sat majestically on the side of a mountain, proudly overlooking the entire town.  Its bold, streamlined Art Deco design made it a symbolic addition to Welch’s rich history.

I turned up the winding road that led to the school’s upper parking lot.  An early arrival guaranteed you a prime spot on top.  Since Chloe was n
otorious for making me late, I usually had to park in the lower student lot, located at the bottom of the hill.  Trekking up that thing on a cold day was a bitch — snow made it extremely hazardous.  I’d busted my butt plenty of times going up and down those steps in the winter. 
Ouch!

I’d just pulled into a space next to the Math and Sciences building when a series of beeps coming from my cell sent my hand digging down into my purse.  Once located, pulled it out and read my latest text.  I was only partially happy that Charlie had honored my request.