Out of Pickenpaugh

After a couple of weeks, Goss resumed his once-or-twice-a-week treks to the cemetery even though, since that first encounter, things hadn’t been the same.  There were times when he was finding it difficult to fall asleep.  On more than one occasion, at some early morning hour, he’d been startled awake by some indefinite thing, had pulled himself from his sleeping bag, stood wearily at the Haughter stone, pistol in hand, surveying the cemetery from end to end.  So far, after a few visits to the hill since his encounter, other than the normal forest sounds and a few creature sightings, he had seen and heard nothing. 

On a warm Thursday evening in the latter part of June, around nine PM, Goss gave a sulking but resigned Rae a peck on the cheek, left the house and headed up the hollow road.  He arrived at his bunking place, called Rae to tell her that he was okay, he’d see her in the morning.  Rae, back in the shack, had read until around 12 o’clock, laid her book on the bed stand, reached for and flicked off the bed lamp, lay back.

She had never felt afraid or insecure with or without Goss day or night.  Goss had made the house fortress-like with all of the locking windows and dead-bolted doors.  Unlike in the city, invasions of people’s property in the hollow were pretty much unheard of.  Most left the doors of their houses and cars unlocked day and night.  There were a few unsavory people around, but like the Odums, they were for the most part isolated in out-of-the-way areas, held their disputes among themselves, and seldom encroached on other people’s property.  Nearly all families had guns around their houses and being on someone else’s property, especially at night, was tantamount to getting ones posterior filled with double O buckshot. 

As Rae lay on her side, the only light filtering into her room was from the huge outside pole light by the parking area and the little night light in the living room.  As was her habit, within minutes she fell into a deep slumber.

At some point during the night, she awakened, lay still for a moment, wide eyed.  Although not consciously aware of it, she instinctively felt that she had been awakened by a loud crashing or jarring sound from somewhere at the far end of the house.  She knew that it had to have been very loud to awaken her.  She could not ever remember waking up in the middle of the night.  Then she realized that she was staring into total blackness.  Not only had the nightlight gone out, but apparently the outside pole light as well.  She reached over and flipped the light switch on the bed table.  It didn’t come on.  “What the hell?”  She muttered.  “The electric must be off.”

She lay still for a few minutes, trying to calm her fears.  Then she heard a creaking noise coming from the other end of the house.  It sounded like someone had taken a step.  The fear seemed to come out of her feet, work its way up her legs and abdomen, fill her chest, restrict her breathing. She lay still, listening.  Then she was sure she saw a flash of light across the top edge of the bedroom door.  She knew that someone had a flashlight at the far end of the house, probably in the kitchen. 

 She sat up.  “Goss, Goss, is that you?”  She yelled, got no response.  “Goss, is that you?”  She yelled louder.  Nothing.  She knew that someone was in the house, and it wasn’t Goss.  She also knew that they had not worried about any noise caused by breaking though a window or a door, didn’t give a damn whether she knew it or not, and somehow knew that she was alone.

Quickly now, following Goss’s instructions, she got out of bed, moved to the closet directly in front of her, felt her way to the closet door, slid it open and pulled out the 16 gauge, semi-automatic shotgun.  At the same time she found the flashlight on the closet shelf and made her way back to the bed.  She grabbed the radio transmitter from the bed table, laid it on the bed, then felt around on the trigger guard on the shotgun and flipped the safety button forward.  She could barely make out the open entrance into the bedroom, but the first movement she could see, she was going to blast away.  “Goss, Goss, wake up,” she said quietly into the radio.  No answer.  Once again, this time louder, “Goss!  Goss!  Wake up! Wake up!”

On the hill Goss quickly sat up trying to gather his senses.  He had heard the voice, but for a moment didn’t know where it was coming from.  Quickly he picked up the radio, “Rae, Rae, was that you?”

“I think someone’s in the house,” Rae said, her voice becoming a whisper now. 

“How do you know?” 

“I woke up.

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