MERCER CREEK MYSTERY
By SANDEFUR
Disclaimer: I have no claims on any character in this crossover story.
Part One: Occurs in June, 2005
Velma ran faster and faster, refusing to look over her shoulder at the horror that pursued her. The danger of crashing in to something or tripping over some unseen danger in the dark was great, but she had to risk it. If she could just get enough of a lead to be out of view for even a minute, she could slip off the trail and hide in the woods. Unfortunately, her pursuer matched her best speed.
Legs burning, sweating profusely, Velma ignored her body's pain and desperately tried to keep her glasses on. Of all the things to have regrets about at such a time—why had she never taken the plunge with laser surgery instead of relying on her thick eyeglasses? A shriek of pain escaped her lips and reminded her of another regret. She had stumbled into a thorn bush, and her trademark miniskirt left her exposed to numerous cuts and scratches.
Legs bleeding, Velma had to pause for just a second to catch her breath. Looking back, she saw it, the hideous thing that relentlessly hunted her. It was closing quickly, sensing victory was near. There was only one option left to her. Velma left the trail and plunged deeply into the thick woods. Away from the relative brightness of the moon-lit trail, Velma had to feel her way carefully to avoid crashing into one of the many trees. She had chosen west as her direction, towards Mercer Creek, which she would reserve for her last chance. Fed by mountain streams, and swift flowing in early June, any attempt to swim the creek would be a life or death risk.
Hiding behind a fallen tree, Velma forced herself to breathe quietly and rest as she waited to see if her monstrous antagonist would find her. Velma Dinkley had gotten use to facing extreme dangers in her young life, but always before she had had her close friends to rely on. Silently, Velma cursed her decision to come alone to Arcadia Maryland.
X X X X X
(Early that morning…)
Joan Girardi sat on her front porch sipping coffee and once again wondering what God was thinking. It had been weeks since her last encounter with Ryan Hunter, and since then another local church had been attacked and a couple of popular pastors had received beatings. What was God's assignment in the face of all of this? To go pick flowers.
Luke and Friedman, knowing that next semester's science class would be biology, were already planning an extra credit project. The rarest flower in the region was the West Maryland Bluetip, which usually bloomed only in May and June. The guys planned to scour the Mercer Creek area for the elusive plant. If found, it would be transplanted to the Friedman's hothouse and hopefully be thriving when school started in September.
Unfortunately, neither Luke or Friedman were the outdoorsy type, and were completely unfamiliar with Mercer Creek. Joan had spent a lot of lazy afternoons there with Adam, and Luke had tried to recruit her as their guide. At first she had refused, even though there had been an offer of shared credit. But an encounter with Dog-walker God, who curiously had been leading a pair of Great Danes, changed everything. In obedience, Joan had gone back to Luke to agree to his proposal, and that was why she was up so early on a Saturday morning.
A green minivan with a vitamin logo on the side halted in front of the Girardi house. Friedman exited the van and approached Joan, who was surprised by the change in her fellow sub-defective since she had last seen him. Not only was he unsually casually dressed in a green t-shirt and brown denim, but he had grown a scruffy set of chin whiskers.
"Friedman, what's with the goatee?"
"It's suppose to be my attempt at a full beard, but so far the only noticeable growth has been on my chin. Are you and Luke ready, or do you want to change first?"
Joan looked down at the blue dress with green trim she was wearing. "Change? Don't you like my outfit?"
"It's fine for a day at the mall, but for a hard day's tramping through the woods…"
"Friedman, it's Mercer Creek, not a trek through the Amazon. Relax, I'll be fine. You and Luke will be the ones who will have to worry about keeping up with me."
As if on cue, Luke exited the house struggling with a large cooler and a picnic basket. He too was casually dressed in blue jeans and an old white shirt. Gasping a sigh of relief, Luke deposited his heavy burden on to the porch.
"Hey buddy, what have you got?"
"Picnic supplies for our little expedition. My Mom insisted."
"Same here. Between what you've got and the stuff I have in my Mom's van, we have enough to feed an army."
Friedman gave Luke a hand with transferring their supplies to the van. A reluctant Joan followed, and paused briefly to look up at the sky and murmur, "Really, this is a priority?"
X X X X X
At that moment, ten miles west of Arcadia, near Mercer Creek, a taxi halted in front of a prosperous-looking farmhouse. Velma Dinkley, carrying a single suitcase, paid off the cab and paused to examine her family's historic Colonial-style homestead. Nearly two hundred years old, it was referred to as the "New House," because it had replaced the original family home built a century earlier. After her father's death the year before, and her recent 18th birthday, Velma was now half owner of Dinkley Farm along with her Aunt Connie. Determining the eventual fate of the farm had brought Velma all the way from California to here.
From the house came a taller, 40 year old version of Velma, who enthusiasticly embraced her niece. After effusive greetings and pleasantries were exchanged, they entered the large old farmhouse and settle in the den.
"Now that we're caught up, we have to get down to business. We have to decide whether or not to sell the family farm."
"That's what I don't understand, Aunt Connie. You've been managing the farm for years, and no member of the family has ever considered selling our land in almost three hundred years. Why now?"
"Before, none of us could sell the land because it was held in a family trust. Do you remember the family history?"
"Certainly. In 1716 our ancestor, Thaddeus Dinkley, and his partner Josiah Mercer, settled this valley along with two dozen other families after they had received a land grant from the royal governor. They established farms and a small village and prospered during their first year. But then disaster struck. A plague hit the community in 1717 and wiped out ninety percent of the people…"
"Including Josiah Mercer and his entire family. Thaddeus Dinkley inherited his share of the land grant, and he bought out the survivors for next to nothing. This made him the largest land owner in the colony, and eventually a rich man. At the end of his life he established a trust that passed the estate intact from father to eldest son for all of time."
"Oh, I see. Since Dad was the last male Dinkley, the trust is broken and can now be sold. But why sell? Aren't you happy here?"
"I love this old farm, Velma, but there are so many pressures now. An investment group wants the property so they can dam Mercer Creek. That would create a lake for recreational purposes and land development, as well as cheap, pollution free electricity for Arcadia."
"That sounds like a good plan, but if we don't want to sell, they can't force us. Can they?"
"They can. If we turn down their offer, Cyrus Cornwall, who heads the investment group, has threatened to close on the land using imminent domain. Cornwall has the political clout to do it."
"So we have no choice?"
"There is another offer, from a group representing environmental and historical preservation organizations. They want to preserve our large section of Mercer Creek, as well as the historic buildings here—including the old log cabins in the woods that were part of the Underground Railroad."
"That sounds better."
"Except they can only afford a modest offer. Of course it would spare us the expense of fighting off an imminent domain battle."
"I take it you think we should sell?"
"Any other time I would say fight for our land, but… I'm scared. I've come to realize that this place is cursed."
"Cursed? Aunt Connie, that's illogical. Why do you feel this way?"
"I recently learned the truth of what happened in 1717. The community didn't suffer a plague, they were poisoned by our ancestor!"
"That's… shocking, but how could you learn this after such a long time?"
"Because two nights ago I was visited by Josiah Mercer's ghost!"
TBC. Please review.