Darius "Darry" John Dodson, the boy who was conceived just six months after his family settled into the house that, now, just he and his mother and sister were living in, looked at the thing before him in awe. Ever since he was knee-high, he had harbored a love for scarecrows. Now that he was nine, this love hadn't wavered. If anything, it had grown. There was just something about the immobile things that guarded growing produce that captivated his imagination. Maybe it had something to do with this dream he had when he was three, or possibly with the toy that he was given shortly after it occurred?
His grandmother, just after she and his grandfather came up to visit him and his family for Easter, gave him this thing that looked monstrous, but so cool. While his mother was angered over his receiving it on his birthday, he liked it and so did his father. Robin seemed to follow their mother in either fearing or being angry at the thing, which was odd, because it was nothing more than a weird doll. Even though he was nine, and it had seen better days, he still had it and, better yet, it had a place all its own in his room.
The thing before him reminded him of the doll. The clothes weren't colorful, or baggy on the body that they were put on. They were dark, or close to dark blue in color. For some reason, the scarecrow was wearing shoes—normally, scarecrow's were shoeless, or just had straw sticking out from where the legs ended. The burlap bag, from which the straw was stuffed in, and was tied off on one end slightly so it wouldn't seep out, had a human face drawn on it. A scarecrow would usually have a crude face drawn on it, but this one's face was so detailed that he almost thought it was real. His buddy Curly, who lived just up the road from his family, and went to the same school that he did, was famous for making lifelike scarecrows and then rigging them around his parents' house on Halloween; the face on the scarecrow before him looked almost like what Curly's decorations had on them. The scarecrow was in typical standing position, with its arms stretched out and its body straight. It looked very lonely where it was, and it also looked weird without a hat—most scarecrows had them on their heads, but this one was completely bald.
Wonder if it lost its hat last night. A big wind did blow, after all. Darius thought.
It didn't surprise his mother that his favorite character in the Wizard of Oz was the scarecrow, and it didn't surprise his classmates that he dressed up as him each Halloween. Last year's costume was the same as the year before's, and it needed an upgrade. That was why he left the house in a hurry; he wanted to check out the nearby scarecrows, and get some ideas on how to fix the costume up so he could wear it without worrying about it falling apart on him. His sister didn't go trick or treating last year—with her being on "the verge of womanhood", she thought the act of dressing up for the traditional candy hunting was childish. Instead of going out to get a big bag of candy, and having fun while collecting it all, she stayed home and watched romance movies. His uncle was the one to accompany him on that night.
"Think you got enough?" Darius remembered his uncle asking him about thirty minutes in on their outing.
"Uh-uh! Ten more minutes, please." Darius remembered saying back.
"Your bag's about to rip in the bottom, it's so full."
"So. The more the merrier."
"You're getting to be more like me every day, kiddo."
He and his uncle got along great. So great, in fact, that he almost saw him like a father figure. The man, who looked eerily like Gary Busey, was tall and muscular. While he wasn't that smart in some things, and was said to be a town drunk, he was in others; he couldn't help but be glad to have him as his uncle, and to be able to see him once to twice a week. In a lot of ways, Uncle Gerald was like the daddy he never had—the one who sired him was surely not apart of his life, that was for sure. Except for the occasional birthday card in the mail, he rarely heard a word from his father. The man hardly ever called too, which made the estrangement for him all the more real.
In a way, he knew this was to happen. His father, for as long as he could remember, was showing the signs long before the divorce happened. In the morning, before the bus came by to pick him and Robin up, he'd rush through his breakfast and then leave without so much as a word to any of them. In the afternoon, when he and his sister got home from school and he came home from work, he didn't stay in or around home for long. Mr. William Benjamin Dodson claimed to be working the fields behind the house, or checking into a sick friend of his, or some other wild thing whenever asked where he was; it wasn't until his mother called him and his sister over to the couch on that wet winter day that they knew something was about to happen.
His parents were fighting a lot between the time when he was two and four, and he sometimes wondered if the divorce was done because they couldn't get along anymore. After being told that his father was "going away", then seeing him pack up his things and leave the house, he and his sister tried the best they could to move on with life and get use to the fact that they had just one parent to turn to for help. Uncle Gerald, it did seem, had come in at the right time to fill the void where the two of them had no father-figure in their life and where their mother had no one of relation to turn to for guidance. From what he overheard one day about six months ago, his uncle was once married to a girl named Sally; due to her habit of "smoking like a son of a gun", and not wanting to put the "chew" down, she got sick and left him—while he didn't understand why Sally left his uncle, he did know that some people smoked more than ate and that some of them people got to coughing right bad thanks to it. Maybe Sally's sickness revolved around her coughing up a lung, or going into a comah or something. While he didn't know what "chew" meant, he figured Sally just chewed a lot of gum and it did something to her insides that made her even more sick—his mother was always telling him to not swallow his gum, because it'd make his insides stick together, after all.
Maybe switch from wearing sweat pants to jeans this year? And have a paint-smeared jacket on over a red or green shirt too. Darius thought before going on down the trail that led from the scarecrow.
When the divorce happened, he wasn't surprised to hear that he and Robin were to stay with their mother. The idea of a child being most preferred to stay with their mother never occurred to him. He was too young to think of such things, and to think of how life would be if his father had custody of him and his sister. From what his mother told him, William Dodson lived in a small apartment in Varnamtown; it would shock him to know that the man really lived in a three-bedroom house with his girlfriend and their few-month old daughter. Not once since the two got their divorce had he heard of the man getting with anyone else, and he had definitely not spoken or caught wind of having a younger sibling.
Before his parents went their separate ways, he didn't feel like his sister was liked more than him. His parents treated him just the same as they did Robin, so he didn't have to think of who preferred who. A week after the divorce was done, and the cats were taken, he wondered if his father liked Robin more than him—just after he turned one, he seemed to want to hang around her more than him. Whenever he needed to go to the doctor, or needed a ride to some event that his mother decided to schedule him to, it'd be his mother who'd step up to take him; in contrast, the man jumped whenever something was learned about Robin. The man also seemed to be less cheery when his birthday came around—while he'd ruffle Robin's hair, and be all funny during the annual song, he'd either sit in a chair or be all in a hurry on his.
Even though these feelings were still expressed today, he had something else to wonder. On some nights, when he couldn't go to sleep, and on some days when he was eating lunch alone at school, he wondered why he was named Darius. The name seemed odd to him, and his friends were quick to point out how rare it was. While doing research in the Shallotte public library, he found that it was an English transliteration of the Persian name Dariush, and that it meant "he possesses" or "rich and kingly". In the same book that he found, he read that it also meant "He who holds firm to good". There were some very uncommon names out there, and he definitely thought he owned one—unlike his sister, who loathed history and did her best to steer clear of it, he liked history, which was why he knew why he was given his name and why he was sometimes called Darry.
At one time in his mother's forty-four years of living, she had a younger brother. Grandma Maude and grandpa Patrick named him Darius, but were known to call him Darry. Even his mother called his uncle Darry. The man that was his uncle was no longer around. The story that he was told went something like this: the man was kidnapped by some crazy person when he and his sister were on their way home from school. Along with hearing this tale, he was told that the kidnapper wasn't known.
He was shown a picture of his uncle once. The man looked almost like his twin, and was his grandfather's perfect replica. Or, except for the tattoo, that was. Patrick Jenner was a veteran of the second World War, and was a devout Christian who believed one needed to look after their body to be accepted into Heaven, so he was very against tattoos and any type of piercings—he had a feeling that the man didn't like his son having a rose tattoo on his belly, or that his daughter had her ears pierced.
"Or that Robin's ears are also pierced," Darius whispered while turning for home. "Just before spring break started, she got them done. Mom went with her, and so did her two friends, Martha and Alice."
Of the two women who accompanied his mother and sister to the local mall, he liked Martha the most. Martha was two inches shorter than his mother, and she had a wicked sense of humor. She no more came inside before breaking out the jokes and making him and his family laugh. Alice, on the other hand, was too serious. And tall! He had seen tall women before, but Alice seemed to make them look short in comparison. And Alice wasn't very girlie either. While Martha liked to wear girl clothes, like blouses, skirts, and fancy shoes, Alice liked to walk around in dirty or dusty jeans, shirts that had holes in them, and dirt-crusted boots. Martha had a better car too—the ride was smooth, the A/C and heat worked, and so did the windows.
From what he was told, Martha Johnson was closing in on thirty-nine. Unlike Alice Burke, who was unmarried and childless, Martha had a loving husband and three daughters. Martha's temper was a lot less triggered than Alice's too, and she wasn't so humbled by the act of asking one for monetary assistance either.
If there was one quality that Alice had that Martha didn't, Darius thought it was her paying one back for what was given to her. Martha was one to not pay one back for what was loaned to her. On two instances now, Martha had received money from his mother for something and had never repaid her for her generosity. Alice, on the other hand, about broke out in a rash when it came time for her to repay one for their help; while she was grateful for the help given to her, she was prone to getting frustrated after the funds were given over, which made him wonder if she was also ungrateful too.
Robin was almost the exact opposite of him when it came to their mother's friends. According to his sister, almost all of their mother's friends were pushovers who'd prefer to be given everything on a silver platter. The only one that Robin liked was Alice. It was just the way Alice presented herself that Robin didn't like—she thought she dressed like a slob, which was what he thought too. He couldn't remember a time where Alice wore anything nice, or girlie, or even did anything girlie.
"Along with working the 7-11 in her town, Alice works the gas store by the bridge that goes over the Intracoastal Waterway. When she's not working, she's at the Meadowcrest Farm." Darius said to no one in particular.
Robin knew the farm more than him, and she knew what Alice did there too. Along with mucking stalls, and looking after the horses that called the place home, Alice rode them. Horses weren't his thing, but they were sure Robin's. Robin loved horses. Ever since she was five, she couldn't stop looking at pictures of horses or even yell for their parents to slow down when one or more were seen in a field. To him, a horse was nothing more than a dumb animal that did nothing but eat grass and poop. Except for when Robin told of how well Alice was in looking after the horses at Meadowcrest Farm, and of how well she was when she rode them, he hadn't seen Alice ride them or even seen one break out from a walk. Judging by how Alice gave Robin something that revolved around a horse on each of her birthdays, he thought that Alice liked Robin; while Alice was nice and polite with him, and gave him something on his birthday, she gave off a different vibe with him that made him believe that she didn't like him as much.
Most of mom's friends have nice homes, and more than two pets. The only ones that don't live in a good home are Terri and Alice, and the only ones to not have any pets are Jill and Alice. Darius thought after reaching the path that'd take him home.
This was understandable on Terri and Jill. Terri Whitmore lived in a small apartment, and she wasn't allowed to have pets. Mrs. Whitmore, who had partial custody of her daughter, and was on husband number two, had once owned a parrot and a Ferret. After losing her home to foreclosure, she had to rehome both of her pets; she always looked sad when this was brought up, which caused him and his family to not mention it much. Jill McMurphy, on the other hand, was allergic to anything that had fur on it and had a rich fear of anything that didn't have fur. When it came to Alice Burke, he thought it was plain laziness that was cause for her trailer to be looking the way it did and for her to not have any pets.
Martha White lived in a nice house with two dogs and a potbelly big, while Mark Weatherby lived in a very spacious apartment in town. Mark owned some goldfish and the smallest of puppies right now, which he was prone to call a Great Dane from time to time. Jose Garcia, who was the only other male friend that his mother had, owned a two-bedroom house on the outskirts of Shallotte county; along with having a rich love for ducks, he owned two and also had two rabbits. While he sometimes wanted to ask for a rabbit, or even a Guinea Pig, he was glad to have just Scooter to call a pet—when Lewis, Clark, and Oli were taken away, he felt lonely, so he was content with having just the dog as a companion.
"Shoot! I forgot about Scooter... I bet he misses me!" Darius said, then started running along.
While running along, Darius couldn't believe how different the landscape was. Just a short month ago, there was snow on the ground and the trees were naked of leaves. Now, the ground was lush with grass and the trees were in the process of growing new leaves to fill their various limbs. The farm that he visited was close to two miles from his home, so he had plenty to see while running. The first was the white-wash fence, which kept the just-planted crops contained as they grew, while the second was the red-painted barn and its gray grain silo. Mr. Francis O'Neil use to own cows, but he sold them all just a year ago then decided to go full-throttle on growing produce—Patricia Jenner, who use to go by the surname of Dodson, made a habit out of buying some of his carrots and cantaloupe's, which was why they never bought them types of produce at the local food mart.
Once past the fence, and away from the farm, Darius saw the various hills that blanketed the area. Even though Shallotte County was close to the beach, it had two farms and plenty of hilly terrain to run and play on—both him and his friends used the unfarmed areas to play on when they weren't in school and didn't have anything to do in town. While some of the area had trees or the occasional bush on them, the rest were clean; Henry Davis, his friend who was a year older than him, sometimes brought his BB with him when they came to the cleared areas while, when he and the crew went to the others, they brought kites or just rough housed. On the days where they didn't want to fly kites or rough house, they donned their swimming trunks then went swimming in the nearby Shallotte River, which was what the town was named after and which went through the town.
The town of Shallotte had everything a boy of his age needed. Along with a public pool, a library, and more than three schools, it had a gym and several restaurants in it. He and Jeremy Lewiston, who was in the same grade as he but being taught by a different teacher, were frequent visitors of the local convenience stores, while Robin and her friends either spent time in the Shallotte Mall or the nearby beach. While crossing the bridge that was less than a hundred yards from his home, Darius smiled—here he was, a boy of nine, who was thin, got all B's on his rank cards, and hadn't done a thing wrong in his life, in the place that he wished to stay in forever. If his mother ever decided to leave it, he was sure that he'd grow blue over losing both it and the people that he grew to love over the years. Even though his roots were in Florida, he couldn't imagine being anywhere where he was now.
Arf! Arf, arf, arf!
"Scooter!" Darius called after reaching the section of his mother's property, then starting to go through the maze of dead corn stalks that still littered the area. "Scooter! Scooter, Scooter!"
After exiting the section of yard that was taken up by corn, Darius rounded the house then went to the dog. Scooter stopped going after the squirrel that he treed at once. The dog bounded towards the boy, then jumped on him before wagging his tail then going to lick his face. The boy giggled, then placed the dog down; once the dog was on the grass, Darius picked a stick up then threw it. The two of them played fetch for ten minutes before the game was stopped and they went inside.
"Hi, mom. C'mon, Scooter, let's go play Super Smash Bros." Darius said after entering the house, then taking his shoes off.
As Darius went up to play his game, and as the dog followed him, Patricia nodded her head then answered the questions presented to her. She couldn't believe what happened. Between finishing her blog and seeing Alice, someone had seen it and then made the decision to reply to it. She had no more sat before the computer, and brought the email up, before the phone rang. The woman that she was talking to was nice, and she sounded sincere and shocked—if not for the revelation that was told to her, Patricia would be on the latter too.
The one on the phone's other end was called Mrs. Addison Hooks. Right now, she was talking a mile a minute. All the fine details of the last week and a half were being told to her, as was the astonishing fact of who started the new cycle. According to Mrs. Hooks, one by the name of Jack Charles Taggart Sr. was found in his barn on the twenty-third of March; his son, Jack Jr., was the one the find him and then call the authorities. If not for this piece of information, Patricia wouldn't of gasped—Mr. Taggart was the one who had the disgusting corpse of the creature that killed her brother, and he was also the one to deny her the honor of going to torch it.
"I understand that you lost your brother to this cretin, miss, but I lost my son to it and want to repay it for that when it wakes up." Mr. Taggart said fifteen years ago, when she phoned him then asked if she could come to his property to both look at the "Bat out of Hell" and then destroy it.
If not for a friend of her ex-husband's, Patricia wouldn't know of the Taggart's having the creature's body. Apparently, the Taggart's were using it as a tourist attraction. Even though she was given the offer of having a picture of it being sent to her email address, she refused to accept it—if she was to see the bastard that took her brother, it was to be in person and not through a computer. Just before leaving Florida for North Carolina, Patricia offered to buy the creature's carcass for $300 and was, sadly, denied the honor—Mr. Taggart was serious in keeping it, and in taking his revenge out on it when it woke up.
Even though she knew of the creature's whereabouts, she didn't trespass or even think about seducing his son into letting her into the barn for free. Back then, the creature's location was enough to satisfy her; now that it was awake, and had been for close to two weeks, she wasn't satisfied and felt a hunger to go to it to finish something that she should of done twenty-three years ago.
"I've been keeping up-to-date on when it's sighted, and have pictures of it if you want them." Mrs. Addison Hooks said earlier.
"Can you send them to me, please?" Patricia remembered requesting.
Except for when it was newly awake, the creature looked exactly like she remembered it being. Around three days after killing Jack Taggart Sr., the creature was seen in Perwila County. It really did look like a former shell of itself—nothing but skin and bones, and the flesh was dry and light in color... If anything, it reminded her of the victims of the Holocaust. At the time of its first sighting, it was wearing nothing but a pair of tattered trousers that looked three sizes too big for it; over the course of five days, it gained a healthier physique and started wearing a dark green shirt and the nineteenth century duster that she remembered almost too well. The creature wasn't seen with its stetson, or boots, until later.
Over the course of nine days, it had claimed seven people... and one of them people was a fourteen year old boy, who was just coming home from school.
Her old nemesis, who took her younger brother, and changed the course of her life forever, was back and here she was, in North Carolina instead of Florida. If not for needing to keep her composure, Patricia would be ranting and raving and then going to grab her suitcase. The idea of the creature killing more people, and changing the course of more people's lives in the process, sickened her as much as infuriated her.
"You know what this thing is? You know what you're imply in your blog?" Mrs. Hooks said before Darius came in.
"No." Patricia forced herself to not say the rest of what she wanted to say. While the issue of saying and I don't care seemed legit to her, it might offend Mrs. Hooks. Instead of saying that, she said, "It's a demon of sorts, and needs to be taken down before—"
"It's not a demon. Far from it, actually." Mrs. Hooks was a little rude in interrupting her. "It reminds me of the Scape Ore Swamp Monster..."
"Only a lot more violent." Patricia remembered chuckling when saying this. Addison Hooks, who was so serious earlier, laughed too.
After running the memory of the Lizardman of Scape Ore Swamp through her head, then clearing it long enough to acknowledge her son, Patricia started listening to the questions presented to her on what could happen if she went through with what she wrote in her blog. The blog was long but very to the point—after explaining what the creature looked like, then what it did to her and her brother, and to the others that survived its destruction, she said that she wanted to find where it was when it woke up then destroy it. She also said something around the area of if anyone wanted to help her, or had information on the creature, for them to either give her a call or send her an email. So far, her blog was close to being two hours old and only one person had answered it.
"You intend to go through with it, regardless of the life that could be lost?" Mrs. Hooks asked.
"My brother meant the world to me so, yes, I do." Patricia replied.
"If I had a brother, or sister, and they were taken by the Creeper, I guess I'd do the same thing." Mrs. Hooks paused for a minute before going on. "While I'd like to stay clear of it, I'd also like to see it go down. Are you making a list of the ones who ask you if you want their help?"
"I plan on doing that, yes."
"Put my name on it, please."
"I will, and thank you. May I add the number that you reached me through to it too?" Patricia asked.
"Sure. If anything comes up, or its seen and photographed again, I'll be sure to get the evidence then send it to you."
"Thank you, you're too kind." Patricia liked hearing this. Along with having her first recruit, she was to keep tabs on the thing that she was about to hunt; if her children were in the room with her, they would probably remark on her looking like the main villain of the 1999 Disney film, Tarzan.
After ending her conversation with Mrs. Hooks, then setting the phone down, Patricia looked at the room around her. The many photographs on the wall, which were mostly of her children, with maybe six or so flower portraits and pictures of Scooter, were what she looked at. So much could be lost if she still lived in Florida. Even though a lot could still be lost with what she had in mind to do, she didn't dwell on it; she was sure that she would survive, and that her foe would be permanently put to rest. There was no doubt in her mind that the creature would see her, would remember what it did to her, and then fight and lose to her—she was angry at it, and she was going to use that anger to her advantage no matter what.
After looking at the pictures of Darius playing in the mud, riding his bicycle, playing with friends, and being with relatives, and then at the ones of Robin playing dress-up, climbing a tree, and playing Cinderella in the fourth grade play, Patricia got up then went to the computer desk. There was a drawer on it that she always kept locked, and that she kept something in that was so precious that she couldn't dare let be left out where it could be hurt. After unlocking this drawer, which was under the one where the printer was, she opened it then took the thing in it out. In her hand was a picture of her, her classmates, and, most importantly, Darry and his friends. It was taken just before she and her brother went off on their ill-fated drive home; the car that she owned back then, which was a blue 1960 Chevrolet Impala, was quickly sold following the events of that day and she was glad for it. The creature did a number on it, and she couldn't bear to have it after what happened.
She and Darry had their moments back then. They had their moments where they fought like cats, or just drew one another crazy, or were cold towards one another, but they loved one another. She did hope that he knew she loved him still, and missed him terribly. If not for the events of that night, she'd still have her brother and her brother might be a married man with a good job, some kids to dote on, and a home to call his own. The theft that happened wasn't fair, and neither were the feelings that it brought on. Once the picture was in her hand, she drew it to her eye-level then spoke to it.
"It's time, Darry, that the son of a bitch that took you got the justice that it deserves."
