ISSUE 20 - FICTION

A Tale from Foggy Neck County
by L.B. Mitchell

The kitchen screen door slapped shut at Ned Calloway's place early Sunday morning.
"Ned, you in here? It's Rene Davenport, I have the lumber you ordered in the truck. Ned?" Rene made her way through the kitchen. The front left burner of the stove glowed red-orange and several strips of bacon were shriveled and charred on an iron skillet. Rene removed the frying pan from the burner and placed it aside as she turned the knob to the 'off' position. Grease popped and sizzled a few more times before fading into silence.
"Ned, you should really watch this stove honey, you're gonna burn the place down. I talked with Craig and he said you can take the rest of them boards if you like." Rene fingered out the bacon onto a paper towel, turned the tap on and laid the pan in the sink basin. "You really need to be more careful dear, where are you?" Rene shut off the tap and walked over to the kitchen table. She set her purse down on
the table and walked through the doorway to the hall. "Ned, you in
here? It's Rene." She moved down the hallway towards the bedroom
when Ned popped out of the bathroom.
"Rene, I thought I heard a voice, I was just cleaning up here." Ned said.
"Oh, sorry to disturb you sweetie. I have your boards in the truck and I took your bacon off the stove, there's almost nothin' left, you really should be more careful- grease fires are a real bear to put
out, ya know."
"Oh thanks, I guess I got side-tracked- late night, ya know?"
Ned chuckled avoiding eye contact and concealing one eye with a towel
he was using to dry his hair.
"What's that?" she asked. "What are you hidin’ there?"
"Nothing, it's nothing." Ned dropped the towel revealing a puce ring around his left eye.
"Ned, for crying out loud, what happened, come here and let me have a look." Rene pulled at Ned's arm leading him back into the kitchen. "Here, sit your butt down here right now and let me take a look. What did you get into last night or should I say, who got into you last night?" Rene bent down and smiled at Ned.
"Oh, it's no big deal, Rene. I just fell into a little trouble down at The Cannon last night." Ned took a deep breath and smiled back at Rene. "So you have my wood, huh? All of it?" Ned squirmed out of the chair and went to have a look outside.
"Not so fast, you sit here for a moment. I'm gonna' grab some ice for that eye. You really out do yourself ya know. Always finding
trouble, that's my Ned." Rene moved towards the refrigerator for some
ice.
"It's not me Rene" he exclaimed. "You know Judy, right? Sampson's little girl?"
"Why yes I do and she's nothin' but trouble, you hear me, trouble!" Rene returned to the kitchen table with a tray of ice and a hand towel. She twisted the tray and dumped several cubes into her cupped palm, placed the tray on the kitchen table and wrapped the ice inside the towel. Here put this against your eye. Rene mashed the ball of ice against Ned's face.
"Ahh, that hurts!" he barked.
"Somethin’ tells me you deserve it. What were you doin’ messin'
around with Sampson's girl any how? You know she just got released from that damn mental hospital up in Barkitsville. That girl's been in more trouble than even you- the two of you together? Oh lord, I can't imagine.”
"What'd she do to get put away? Do you know Rene?" Ned dropped the towel of ice to his lap.
"Put that back against your face." She paused. "You mean you don't know? I figured you'd know if you were out galavantin' around town with loose Judy all night."
"Nah, I don't know, she didn't wanna talk about it. I asked but she got all defensive- said to let sleeping dogs lie or something." Ned
winced from the cold pain as Rene pushed the icy towel back on his face.
"Well then that's what you should do, let sleeping dogs lie. That's all she is anyway, a damned dog if you ask me."
"If I didn't know better Rene I'd think you're jealous. Are you
jealous, Rene?"
"Honey, you wish, even if I was interested, which I ain't, you
couldn't handle a woman like myself." Rene backed up and presented her
curvy figure by running her hands along her sides. "Besides, a mud-crawler like you wouldn't know what to do with a sophisticated woman like me. I see the way you are with all your girlfriends. I don't need no man to tell me I look pretty or I did good- I am gorgeous, smart, and honey, I'll knock yer block off. I take care of myself and I take care of you, so what my little angel, what could you do for me, jealous you've got to be kiddin'." Rene stood tall with her hands on her hips.
"Take it easy, take it easy, I was just joshin' you, Rene. I know you take care of me and as for those curves-"
"You shut up right there Ned or you'll find yourself with two of them shiners, you hear me?" Rene's finger stretched within inches of Ned's face.
"I hear ya, I hear ya. You know I love you Rene, come on now. I
wasn't gonna say nothin' bad." Ned held out his arms.
"Yeah, yeah, you just keep that ice on your eye." Rene shot Ned a smile and walked to the kitchen counter. "So is this the way you like
yer bacon- all burnt up? Rene bit down on a piece and crunched on it
delicately so not to mar her lipstick. "Mmm, that's good, darlin'. I should have you cook for me sometime." Rene laughed.
"So what did she get put away for? Everybody keeps it quiet. I never really knew." Ned patted his eye with the towel, glancing up at Rene for a response.
"She give you that shiner? Wasn't Sampson was it? He's been in that wheelchair damn near four years now. Was it Sampson or some other
young buck tryin' to get a cheap piece of ass down there at The Cannon. Rene winked and cackled at Ned as she bit down on another piece of bacon.
"Well it wasn't Sampson. I can tell you that much." Ned said. Rene rolled her eyes and walked toward the screen door.
"Come on, let's get your wood." Rene waved Ned to the door.
"So you're not gonna tell me? What'd she get locked up for Rene?" Ned followed her outside onto the front porch.
"Can't say dear, don't really want to either. It's nothin' I need to get into about with you. Just stay away ya hear? She ain't worth a damn. Now help me unload this wood, will ya? I've got to be headin' back here soon."
"Well if that's the way you're gonna be, Rene, I won't tell ya who gave me this shiner." Ned smirked.
"Honey, I know who gave you that shiner. The question is, do you know? Don't you know I know everything around here. You were drunk as a skunk last night. How you thought you'd be able to eat that greasy bacon this mornin' after a night like ya had last night, is the real mystery. Now enough about Judy and last night, let's unload this wood." Rene unhitched the tailgate and let it drop.
"Fine. Thanks Rene for the wood and all." Ned looked at her apologetically.
"You're welcome honey, come on now, lets' do this." Rene and Ned began unloading 2x4s out of the back of the truck. “So what're you
gonna do with all this anyway, buildin' somethin'?" Rene asked.
"Well I thought I'd repair some things on the cottage around back. It's in pretty bad shape. Nobody's seen the inside of it for years. I think it'll keep me busy. It's time to clean this place up, put some life back into it ya know?" Ned tossed a few boards into a pile on the grass.
"I think that's great Ned. Keep yourself busy out here. Quit foolin' around in town with that girl. Ain't nothin' a few nails and these boards here can't fix. I'm proud of you darlin'. Your pop would be proud to see you doin' this- workin', takin' pride in somethin'."
"Thanks Rene. Maybe I can have a family here someday too, ya know?" Ned paused holding another bundle of boards in his arms.
"That'd be somethin', honey, that'd really be somethin'." Rene leaned up on her toes and kissed Ned just below his shiner. "You take care of yourself, ya hear? I'll check back with you shortly but for now I gotta get back into town. Call if ya need anything, OK?" Rene tossed
the last two boards on the lawn, swung the tailgate closed and hopped
back into her truck. The engine roared to life and Rene headed back
down the dirt road waving and smiling in the rear view mirror. Ned
waved and looked down at the wood pile.
"Guess I should get to work." He muttered to himself; then headed back up the steps of the porch and into the house.
Staring into the bathroom mirror, he examined his black eye and
touched the swollen corner beneath his brow.
"Ahh!" The bruise was tender to the touch and he stopped and shook his head. He squeezed a glob of hair gel into the palm of his hand and ran his fingers through his thick dark hair. Tossing on a black and white flannel shirt, he headed back out the kitchen door and down the porch steps. He fumbled with two 2x4s like an old pair of skis
until finding balance upon his shoulder. He headed around the house
across a patch of firm green moss that carpeted the side yard. The
forest beyond the house was still shaking off the dew from the night
before and a thin layer of fog grew out from a birch grove like an old
man's mustache. He continued down a steep embankment, leaning back on
his heels so not to fall forward, when a rogue root reached out from
the earth and grabbed his left leg. Ned slid off his heels landing on
his right side; the 2x4s grappled with one another before taking aim
down the slope. The boards came to rest at the edge of a small narrow
footbridge that laid stiff over the flowing brook below.
"Damn!" Ned scolded the root as he wiped the mud from his hands down the front of his Levis. As he rolled back up onto his heels he focused on the footbridge below. Shakily, he made his way down the hill, slung the boards back upon his shoulder and strutted across the bridge towards the cabin below. He leaned the two boards against the eave of the cabin as he pushed and kicked his way inside the front door. Dust was sprinkled over everything like powdered sugar. Directly in front of him on the left wall was an old bunk bed; the top bunk rose nearly eighteen inches from the ceiling and bedraggled blankets hung from both mattresses haphazardly. It looked as though somebody had woken up in a hurry, got out of bed and took off, never looking back. Ned bent down beside the bottom bunk. He raced his finger across the bed sheet that was now yellowish in color. He gazed at his finger tip in the sunlight that shown through the front door.
"Nobody's slept here in awhile." Ned commented to himself as he
brushed the dust from his hand. Clutching the oak bed frame, he lifted himself back to his feet and walked towards the front door. He pulled a shade adjacent to the door and it zipped and fluttered at the top of the window blowing a tornado of dust in the air that danced in the sun beams like snowflakes under a lamp post light. He coughed and waved his arms in the air. To the right there was a narrow entrance that lead into the kitchen. There wasn't much to it: a long wooden trough with aluminum lining was mounted on the wall and a black garden hose hung through a broken window pane. Cobwebs around the vacant window were so thick they rudely resembled an effective measure for insulation. And to the left of the trough was a small olive-green ice chest. A thin, warped buffet table was pushed against the opposite wall and tall stacks of World War II era newspapers covered its surface entirely. Beside the table was another entrance- this one even more narrow and irregular. A thin trapezoid-shaped ply-board, hinged by canvas straps nailed into the wall, masqueraded as a bedroom door. Ned bent down on one knee and began pushing the door open with his knuckles. The room was murky and the only thing, immediately visible, were two pale legs dangling off the bed.
"Jesus!" Ned exclaimed, as he lunged backwards knocking his head
against the wooden trough. He scrambled to his feet and scampered out
of the cabin. His flailing arms knocked the 2x4s off balance and they slid along the rain gutter before stamping the thick mud below. His long legs nearly cleared the footbridge in one stride and he hobbled
up the steep grade feeling the pain in his foot for the first time since his encounter with the maligned root.
"Rene, Rene!" Ned cried. He raced around the house and up the steps of his front porch. "Oh God, what the hell is going on?" Ned
interrogated himself as he paused with his hands on his knees, panting
from the sudden explosion of energy. He squinted his eyes and gazed down the long dirt driveway that lead away from the house. Pacing in
circles, he gauged the path with his feet contemplating what to do
next. A shovel leaning against the house caught his attention and he
marched over to it. He gripped the shovel in his gentle hands,
practicing a few hits and jabs in the air. The shovel in his arms
crossed his chest like a soldier's rifle and he nervously inched along
the front of the house toward the side wall. The shovel's edge peered
around the corner of the house first, shaking off dirt and grass and
Ned's wide eyes followed. The cabin remained concealed below the steep
grade and the grove of birch trees- ghostly white- stood out like
skeletons dangling from the foliage above. He moved anxiously across
the moss; tiny pools of rain water eructed from the soil beneath his
boots with each step. Sliding down the bank on the sides of his soles, he reached the narrow footbridge when the sound of a slamming car door rang out. Ned slid to a halt and dug the tip of the shovel into the bank for balance. He cocked his head to one side and listened intensely. The sound of footsteps climbing the front porch were heard followed by the screeching sound of the screen door's heavy metal spring stretching as the door opened wide. The Jurassic sound pierced
the morning calm and a voice followed.
"Mr. Calloway, Ned, you home?" Ned listened to the voice. It was a man's voice and he struggled to distinguish whom it belonged to. The screen door banged shut and Ned wondered whether or not somebody was now inside his house. He glanced down at the cabin below and back up to the house. He dug the shovel into the dirt and heaved himself back up the hill and across the patch of moss. A brown and khaki Ford
Bronco was parked in the driveway. The driver's door had a star emblem
and written above and below it was, Foggy Neck County Sheriff's Department.
"Ah, Mr. Calloway, Deputy Lyle Cummings, how are ya this fine
mornin'." The deputy sashayed down the front porch steps fingering
the hand rail like a piano. The deputy was tall and very thin. It looked as though his holster belt required a few extra punch holes just to keep it around his waist. His uniform was impeccable. His slacks and shirt were firmly pressed and the silver and gold decorations that donned his breast glistened in the early morning
sun. "I was just pokin' my head inside here, is that bacon I smell?"
The deputy's thumb shot past the brim of his hat toward the kitchen.
His hair was shaved close around the nape of his neck and you could
still trace the white outline left behind by the barber's handy work.
His eyebrows were dark and dense but neatly manicured. He was clean-shaven and smiled big. His teeth were large and his Adams Apple swayed up and down like a buoy in rough water with every word he spoke. His eyes were large and bulbous and maple in color. They were unusually light in hue and oddly enchanting.
"Uh, no deputy, I uh, I mean, yes, yes, awhile ago, I burned it." Ned replied awkwardly. His thoughts returned to the cabin. He kept visualizing the legs hanging off the bed. He was nervous and his eyes darted back and fourth between the deputy and the side of the house. His hands reached deep into his jeans pockets and he swayed back and fourth in his boots. "I'd uh, I'd offer you some deputy but I, uh-"
"You burned it. Yes, you mentioned that." The deputy interrupted, holding a wide smile as he looked Ned over. What happened to your face?" The deputy asked, still smiling.
"Oh, uh, nothing, just a little scuffle down at The Cannon last night. I'm all right, it's no big deal. So uh, what can I help you with today, deputy?" Ned pulled his right hand out of his pocket and
shielded the sun from his eyes that pierced the canopies of the trees
behind Deputy Cummings.
"Uh huh, yes, a scuffle. Yes, well that may or may not be the reason I'm here Mr. Calloway. See, we got a call from Sampson Davies this morning’. It seems his daughter, Judy, never came home last night. Now I know Judy is grown for the most part and she can go where she wants, when she wants, but I just thought I'd ask around a bit. Her daddy depends on her you know. He's stuck in that wheelchair and doesn't get around so well, you understand." The deputy held his characteristic boundless smile and nodded to the side as though he sought Ned's acceptation.
Uh, no, no. I understand deputy." Ned replied as he repositioned himself so not to stare directly into the sun while addressing the deputy. He dropped his hand from his face and shoved it back in his pocket.
"So you saw her last night, did ya? It's no secret about her being at The Cannon, too. I just figured since you were there and word of mouth says you two were gettin’ pretty close, that chances are she'd be here this mornin', now am I right?" The deputy rocked back in his spit-shined black loafers and let out a chortle.
"Well, yes, Deputy Cummings. I did see her last night but she ain't here this morning. We were hanging out at the bar, you know, having some beers and some laughs. Now that's about it. I mean, well, I tried to bring her home but you know, she got real defensive with me cuz I asked about her being at the loony bin and all? She took offense and pretty much told me off. Now, I didn't see much more of her after that. And as for my eye? That was just me and some boys down there. I didn't do no fightin' with Judy if that's what you're gettin' at." Ned spat out his story to the deputy still trying to block out the image of the legs in the old cabin. He stirred in the driveway, looking down the dirt road and back towards the house.
"I see, I see. So you don't mind if I just take a quick look around then do ya? It'll just take a minute or two." Deputy Cummings walked back up the front porch steps and opened the screen door to the kitchen. He stepped inside and as the heavy spring began to retract he turned and stopped the door from slamming shut. "You comin'?" The deputy asked as he stretched the spring even more taught, inviting Ned
into his own house.
"Yes, yes of course deputy. You can have a look around. She ain't here, honest. It's like I said, we hung out, had some beers and that was the end of it. I swear." Ned leapt up the steps and followed the deputy into the kitchen. Deputy Cummings walked through the kitchen casually, with his hands on his belt and his elbows pointed outward, He approached the sink where he noticed the grease-laden frying pan and the burnt bacon crisps laid out on a paper towel.
"So you did." The deputy remarked.
"Pardon?" Ned asked.
"So you did." The deputy repeated himself. "Burn the bacon that is." The deputy picked up a burnt piece and held it between his fingers. He turned back to Ned and smiled again.
"Oh yeah, it's burnt." Ned reiterated. His hands found their way back into his jeans pockets. The deputy brushed off the bacon crumbs from his fingers and smacked his hands together over the kitchen sink. He swung around on his heels and faced Ned who was leaning against the kitchen table. Suddenly and for the first time, the deputy's smile disappeared and his face grew angry.
"I thought you said she wasn't here. You lyin' to me boy?" Deputy Cummings' bulbous eyes concentrated. His voice became razor sharp and he moved mechanically toward Ned. The loose and smiley gentleman that had just entered the kitchen had now turned angry and militant.
"What do you mean? What're you talking about deputy?" Ned became very nervous. His heart was beating rapidly now. "She's not here, honest, she's not!" Ned exclaimed.
"Then what the hell is this?" Deputy Cummings marched to the table, grabbed Ned's arm with his left hand and with his right scooped up a brown leather pocketbook from the kitchen table and suspended it inches from Ned's face.
"No, no that's Rene's purse. She was just here, honest! She delivered some wood for me." Ned pointed towards the kitchen door. The deputy dropped the purse onto the counter and began thumbing through it still holding Ned's arm tightly.
"Rene Davenport." The deputy said. His hand emerged from the purse with a Tennessee driver's license. His smile return and his grip
loosened. He bounced around the house quickly poking his head in and
out of rooms and closets. "Well okay Ned, I best be movin' on. If you hear from Judy, you give me a call, all right?"
"Absolutely deputy. I, uh, I'll call you if I hear anything, anything at all." Deputy Cummings darted down the porch steps, slid back into his Ford and drove back down the driveway in reverse, disappearing behind a row of pines.
Ned ran back down to the footbridge. His heart was pounding. His palms were clammy. He tip-toed across the footbridge and into the cabin. Nervously, he pushed open the makeshift door to the bedroom. The sun was higher in the sky by now and the room wasn't so dark. The legs were still there and didn't appear to have moved.
"Damn!" Ned backed off the door allowing it to shut again. He sat on the floor with his back against the ice chest. His shaking hands covered his face and he began to cry. Wiping his tears into his cheeks he rose to his knees and pushed the door open again. Focusing on the legs, he crawled into the room. It was musty and dank and reminded him of some caverns he once explored in Virginia. The
legs were feminine and her nails were painted a crimson color. Ned
stood up. He looked down at the body; wavy red curls draped over the
woman's face. He knew that hair- it was a dead giveaway. It was the
body of Rene Davenport. Ned's knees buckled and he fell to the side
of the bed. The room was spinning, he felt nauseous and everything
went black as he fainted onto the floor of the cabin.
"Ms. Davies, Judy, wake up. You've got to quit doin' this now Ms. Davies." An orderly from the Barkitsville State Psychiatric Hospital shook Judy's arm. She was slumped over a park bench a couple miles from the hospital, still wearing a gown issued to her with the word's 'Facility Member' written on the back. She was disoriented and slurring her speech.
"Wha- happen-?" She murmured.
"What's her story?" Another orderly asked.
"Ah, just another schizo, man. "Four yeas ago she killed her stepmother, claimed she was cheating on her with her old man."
"You don't say. Crazy bitch, huh?"
"Yep, smothered her with a pillow in her father's cabin down in Foggy Neck County."
"Damn!"
"Yep, then took a shovel to her old man's back. Put him in a set of wheels for life."
"You weren’t kiddin’ when you said this job was interesting."
"Yeah, that was an understatement. Come on, help me get her up." The two men pulled her up onto a gurney, strapped her down and wheeled her into the back of a white van.