Sweet Corn Conclusion, page 6
“I reckon you do look a bit tired,” Billy told Steve. “Waking up with the roosters can take its toll on a man.”
Steve began to tell Billy that he was plumb exhausted but paused when Mac and Maureen walked out of the kitchen wearing worried faces. “Coroner took the body,” he told Mac. Mac quickly signed the news to his wife. Maureen simply nodded, looked at the front glass door, and then hugged her arms. Rita studied Maureen’s eyes and saw that the kind woman knew some form of evil was hiding out in the corn as well. “I’m going to go back to my farm and get some rest. There’s nothing I can do in town.”
“Except wait for the killer to show himself,” Rita pointed out. “My gut is telling me the killer is still here.”
“I agree,” Steve said, nodding as he fought back another yawn. “Man can’t stay holed up in this diner because he’s afraid. If the killer has marked us as targets, he can get into my farmhouse just as easily as he can this diner. I’m not going to run scared.”
Mac took Maureen’s hand. “Maureen and I have decided to stay here at the diner tonight, Steve. It’s a long drive back to our farm, and there’s nothing between here and there but corn.” Mac patted his side. “I put on my old six shooter.”
“I reckon we’ll stay here at the diner with you,” Billy told Mac. “I ain’t all fired up to drive out into that dark night outside either. My gut is telling me to stay right here in the middle of this here little town for tonight.”
Mac told Maureen what Billy had said. A relieved smile washed over Maureen’s face. “Thank you, Billy,” she signed. Billy tossed a warm smile at Maureen.
Steve leaned against the front counter and rubbed his chin. He grew quiet for a minute and then asked in a deep, troubled voice, “Mind if I ask you all something?”
Mac looked at Steve. “We’ve been friends for many years. You know you can ask me anything.”
Steve nodded. “I keep telling myself that I’m tired and that’s the reason my mind is fussing with me. I keep telling myself to just go back to my farm and get some rest. I keep telling myself to stop feeling so… scared.” Steve shook his head. “I’m not the type of man who scares easily… but the truth is, I can’t help but to feel scared.” Steve leaned up off the counter, walked to the front door, and tossed a thumb out at the night. “The night air outside feels different… tastes different,” he continued in an uneasy tone. “Something… evil… crawled into the cornfields. Do any of you… feel that?” he asked.
Mac looked at Maureen with worried eyes and then carefully signed every word Steve had spoken. Maureen let out a shaky gasp and began nodding her head up and down. “Yes, Steve… we feel that… the cornfields have turned… evil.”
Rita glanced at Billy. Billy nodded. “Billy and I feel the same way, Steve,” she confessed. “A deep, horrible feeling struck me when I was eating dinner… uh… supper. I tried to ignore the feeling. But the feeling kept growing stronger and stronger to the point where I can’t deny it any longer.”
“Like having a shadow sitting in your gut,” Billy told Steve. “Now, old Billy ain’t one to spook easily himself, but I’ll be a horse’s butt if I ain’t all spooked up inside.” Billy left Rita and walked over to Steve. “Earlier today them cornfields outside were like fields of gold to my eyes and heart… now they feel like… graves.”
Steve looked deep into Billy’s eyes. “Billy, we’re on our own out here. Cornville is just a dot on the road. The state isn’t going to send us any help.” Steve rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s been years since a state trooper has driven through Cornville. Cornville sits off the main route that connects to Meadow Plains. Anyone can drive past the little road that takes you into Cornville.”
“We took that little road… that’s how we got lost,” Rita informed Steve.
“Bunch of noisy teenagers were riding the bumper of my truck,” Billy fussed. “Thought the little road I turned on would offer more peace and quiet and lead back to the main route.”
Steve shook his head. “The road leading into and out of Cornville is nothing more than a long two-lane back road that was once used by the government to transport prisoners during World War II.” Steve nodded at the front door. “There used to be a POW camp ten miles northeast of town that held Japanese Americans who were rounded up after Pearl Harbor. That’s how the town of Cornville came to life. A small military installation was planted right here where we’re standing.”
Rita knew Steve was giving a quick history lesson and decided to absorb every little detail. She walked over to Billy and took the man’s hand. “We’re listening, Steve.”
Steve tossed a wary eye at Mac and Maureen. Mac sighed and then nodded. “After the war, the Army closed down the POW camp and left this area. A new route was built and the road leading into Cornville was basically deserted. It used to be that all the farmers in this area had to drive to Meadow Plains, but a man named Jack Taylor bought the few buildings the Army had built, tore them down, and started building the town of Cornville.”
“Mr. Taylor was a good man,” Mac pointed out.
“A farmer,” Steve continued. “Now, I don’t know all the politics or specifics that were involved between Mr. Taylor, the Army and the politicians he spoke with. All I know is that Mr. Taylor founded Cornville in the year 1947. Before that, this county had nothing but farms and cornfields.”
“No offense,” Rita pointed out, “but this little town didn’t exactly change much.”
Steve shrugged his shoulders. “Maybe not… but to the people who live around here, this little town means the world to us.” Steve glanced back out at the night. “During World War II, the Army forced a lot of the farmers to stop farming. The farmers were compensated, of course, and I guess it didn’t hurt the land to rest… or so I thought. I remember my daddy telling me that the farmers who were told to stop farming eventually moved away and—”
“That’s right,” Mac pointed out, cutting Steve off. “My farm is on the southwest portion of the county. I remember my daddy telling me that the land the Army took control of stopped growing corn for many years. Finally… let’s see… in 1962, I believe, the land started growing corn again… like a crippled man. But eventually the corn started getting strong again and the land healed itself.”
“Story goes the Army was conducting some kind of experiment on the corn,” Steve explained.
“That’s right”—Mac nodded—“the Army was trying to make some kind of agricultural war weapon that would destroy the enemy’s food supply.” Mac hurried around the front counter. “My daddy said he saw the Army spraying the cornfields at night with some kind of green chemical… only the Army was forcing the Japanese prisoners to do the spraying. My daddy said he saw a lot of those prisoners… leave in body bags.”
A cold shiver ran down Rita’s spine. “This land is cursed, then.”
“No,” Mac insisted. “My family has worked these cornfields for two hundred years… two hundred good years, and there’s many people around here who have the same heritage. It’s not our fault the Army sinned. All a man can do is make the land clean again.” Mac pointed a hard finger at the front door. “The land was clean before the Army arrived, and the land is clean again.”
“That’s right,” Steve supported Mac. “The families who stayed in this county after the Army worked hard to clean the land. Men like Mr. Taylor worked hard to bring a town to his county… bring life back to this county.”
“But?” Rita asked Steve, reading the man’s troubled eyes.
Steve lowered his head. “The land… the evil… has returned. I feel it.”
“Aye.” Mac nodded and sighed. “The evil has returned. Maureen and I feel it.” Mac patted Billy on his shoulder. “You best take your pretty lady and leave, Billy.”
“Nothing doing,” Billy informed Mac. “I ain’t about to go driving out into that there night, Mac. Rita and me are going to stay right here in this here diner.”
“I’m glad to hear that, Billy,” Mac told him in a relieved tone. “Maureen and I talked, and we both agreed that you and Rita aren’t bad people. And… well, I called a Chief Bluestone in Clovedale Falls, your hometown, and he assured me that you are who you say you are.”
“Mighty good thinking.” Billy nodded. “It’s fitting for a man to make sure another man is telling the truth.”
Rita turned to Mac. “Mac,” she said and began to sign her spoken words to Maureen, “please don’t get upset with me for asking this… but you did say your son is in the Army and works with Military Intelligence?”
Mac glanced over his shoulder at Maureen. “Yes,” he said and nodded. “Our son Riley is at Fort Stewart, Georgia.”
Rita nodded. “Could it be the killing has something to do with your son?” Rita prepared for Mac and Maureen to explode in anger. After all, Rita was throwing their son into a suspicious bowl of stew.
Mac eased back to Maureen and took his wife’s hand. “Rita, Riley is a good man,” he stated in an urgent voice. “He was a good lad growing up too. Riley never caused any trouble for me or his mother. He made good grades and then joined the Army. We’re proud of our son.”
Rita glanced at Steve and saw the man look down at his dusty work boots. Something in Steve’s eyes appeared unsettled. “Mac, Mr. Fieldman told me that you and Maureen received mail from your son this morning.”
“Oh dear,” Maureen signed, “I didn’t check the mail today.”
Rita glanced toward the post office. “Maybe it’s time we do check the mail?” she asked and looked at Billy. “Billy, get your driver’s license out.”
The interior of the post office was dark and creepy. Rita felt as though the lobby had been transformed into some hideous world filled with monstrous creatures that were lurking in the dark pools of shadow that consumed the space. “Anything?” she whispered, speaking into her cell phone.
Mac, who was standing at the front counter holding an old brown phone, called out to Steve. “See anything?”
Steve was stationed at the front door like an eagle, studying the night with sharp eyes. “Nothing,” he called back. “That doesn’t mean the back alley will be clear. Tell Rita and Billy to hurry.”
“Steve doesn’t see anything… hurry,” Mac ordered Rita. “And for the love of potatoes, be careful, woman.”
“I’m keeping my cell phone on. Holler at me if you see anything,” Rita replied, feeling grateful that she had three pairs of eyes watching the post office. “Okay, Billy, get the mail.”
“Sure enough.” Billy nodded, made his way to the wall of post office boxes, and pulled out a box of matches. “Let’s see… post office box number 111 is what I’m looking for,” he whispered, lit a match, and began scanning the wall. “Ah, there it is.”
Rita watched Billy retrieve the post office key Maureen had given him and open the post office box. She quickly glanced down at her hands, studied the gun and cell phone she was holding, and then looked back up at Billy. “Well?”
“Empty,” Billy called back in a confused voice and stuck a lit match into a gray metal box that was open at the back. “Nothing in here… not even dust.”
Rita hurried over to Billy and studied the inside of the post office box. “Someone got to the mail. The question is… who?” she asked Billy in a frustrated voice, turned around, and used the light on her cell phone to examine the white chalk outline the coroner had made of the dead victim. “The victim was facing the post office box….”
Billy closed Mac’s and Maureen’s post office box, locked it, and then turned around and faced the dark lobby. “Yep, it sure seems that way. Think he was trying to check the mail before he was shot?”
“Could be,” Rita replied. “Let’s get back—”
Before Rita could finish her sentence, she heard a sound come from the back workroom. She grabbed Billy’s arm and yanked him down next to the front counter. “Someone is back there,” she whispered, feeling her heart begin to race.
“I heard the sound.” Billy nodded and then stretched his ears into the darkness. A heavy, dark silence greeted him… and then… seconds later… the sound of the back door opening sprang into action. “Someone is escaping out the back!”
“Come on!” Rita jumped to her feet. “Mac, tell Steve someone is escaping out the back door! Have him meet us in the alley,” she ordered while maneuvering behind the front counter with her gun at the ready. Billy followed right behind, having full confidence in his lady. Rita, he knew, could take a wing off a fly with her gun. Billy, on the other hand, was more of a rifle man. Handguns didn’t sit well with him.
While Rita and Billy made their way toward the back workroom, a shadowy figure burst out into the night and ran off into the cornfields on steady, quick legs that belonged to a forty-one-year-old man who was in excellent shape. All Rita saw before the shadowy figure vanished into the corn was a heavy cloud move in front of a half-full moon, casting a dark veil of fear over the back cornfield. “You see it?” Billy asked, stepping out into the back alley.
“Yes,” Rita sighed, staring at the dark cornfield as it revealed a hideous mouth waiting to devour her. “I saw someone run into the corn.”
“Me too.” Billy nodded. “But we sure ain’t gonna follow. Seems to me whoever ran off into that there cornfield might just want us to follow.”
Rita wasn’t sure if Billy’s theory was correct or not, but her gut told her that Billy’s theory was probably right. Right or wrong, Rita had no intention of running off into a dark, scary cornfield.
“Billy—” she began to speak but stopped when Steve came running around the north side of the post office carrying a mean-looking handgun.
Steve spotted two shadows standing just outside of the back door and knew the two shadows belonged to Rita and Billy. “Clear?” he asked in an urgent voice and began scanning the alley.
“Someone ran into the cornfield,” Rita called out to Steve.
Steve threw his eyes at the cornfield, saw nothing but darkness, and then jogged over to Rita and Billy. “Did you get a look—”
“It was too dark,” Rita cut Steve off. “All I saw was a shadow. But the shadow I saw belonged to a man. I’m sure of that.”
“Had to be at least six foot tall,” Billy added. “Fella ran off on some pretty fast legs too.”
“If who you saw ran off into the corn, that means he knows his way around,” Steve pointed out, eyeing the dark cornfield with worried eyes. The night air felt… creepy… evil… and smelled of… coffins. Something deadly, some hideous creature, was lurking out in the corn. “Did you get the mail?” he asked, struggling to stay calm.
“The post office box was empty,” Rita explained, feeling and smelling the same fear Steve was. “Someone got to the post office box before we did.”
Billy, who was usually a rational and calm fella, folded his arms and stared up at the clouds covering the moon. A strange and deep fear reached down from the sky and began clawing at his heart as the cornfield transformed into a hissing, hungry mouth. Billy listened to the night winds strolling through the cornfield, rustling the cornstalks, chained to some invisible rope held by a rotted hand reaching out of a decaying coffin. “Death is out in that corn,” he said in a voice that caused a horrible chill to run down Rita’s spine. “Yes, sir, death is out in that corn.”
Silence fell among the three people standing in the alley. Each person stared into the corn like three lost hearts trying to hold back a terrible scream. “Come on,” Steve finally said and made his way back into the post office. Rita and Billy followed. Steve quickly found a light. “Lock the back door, Billy.” Billy did as Steve asked and then watched as the man studied the dimly lit workroom.
“What are you looking for?” Rita asked.
Steve ran his hand over Nate’s worktable, examined the jigsaw puzzle the bored man was working on, and shook his head. “Nothing… something… everything… who knows?” Steve answered Rita in an upset voice and then hit the worktable with a hard fist. “This is Cornville, a nothing town, a little dot. It’s not supposed to be this way!”
Rita glanced at Billy. Billy held up a calm hand. “What ain’t supposed to be this way?” he asked Steve.
Steve spun around to face Billy. “You really want to know, Billy?” he asked in a voice that was consumed with rage. Billy nodded yes. “Okay… I’ll tell you.” Steve put his gun away and then snapped his arms together. “My wife… Rosabelle, died of breast cancer four years after we got married… four years! I was barely thirty!” Steve struck the worktable again. “Rosabelle was my… life.”
“I’m very sorry,” Rita told Steve in a sorrowful tone. “I can’t imagine…. I’ve never been married before.”
Steve bowed his head. “Rosabelle and I grew up together. Her folks owned the farm next to the farm my folks left me when they passed on to Heaven. We were… soul mates.” Steve grew silent for a minute and then slowly raised his eyes. “Rosabelle loved this land. She loved Cornville. She was a simple woman who was happy living among the corn. Can you understand that?”
“No,” Rita confessed. “Steve, I can’t understand because I spent twenty years of my life working as a cop in Atlanta. Your wife and I come from two completely different worlds.”
Steve appreciated Rita’s honesty. “Rita, before Rosabelle died and went to be with Jesus, she made me promise to never leave our home and to always love Cornville… and to protect it. I made a vow. That’s why I’m the constable. For over twenty years, this little town has never seen an ounce of trouble… until now. It’s not supposed to be like this. I… can’t break the vow I made to my wife.”
Rita glanced toward the back door and then focused back on Steve’s tormented face. “You know what’s out in the corn, don’t you? You know who is out in the corn, don’t you?”
“I reckon he does.” Billy nodded and then stepped over to Steve and patted the man’s shoulder. “Sure am sorry about your wife. Your eyes tell me all I need to know. You loved her, and that love ain’t gonna be separated by the grave. No sir.”
