Evansville, Indiana, August 21, 1955
“Hello, Louise?” Naomi gripped the phone in one hand and, with the back of the other, dabbed at the sweat dripping from her forehead. “The kids are desperate to get out of this hot house. Care to join us for a swim?” She glanced at her oldest son.
He stood still in the doorframe, waiting for the verdict.
“Okay, that’s fine. Yes, good.” She kept her words intentionally neutral. She settled the receiver back on the phone hanging from the wall and then turned to her son, careful not to reveal the answer in her expression.
“Well,” said Darrell, unable to stand the suspense. “What’d she say?”
Naomi broke into a smile. “We’re picking her up in 10 minutes. Get your brother and sister. I’ll pack a basket.”
He was already out the door to the backyard, hollering for Darwin and Sandra. Within minutes, Naomi was in her suit, and the cooler was packed with soda bottles and tuna fish sandwiches. It was too hot to get into the car, so the children were waiting next to it.
After the family fetched Louise, it was just a short drive to the river. Darrell leaned back against the seat and closed his eyes, letting the wind from the open window whip his hair every which way. Louise’s inner tube was stuffed between him and the passenger seat in front of him, and he had to keep shoving it back down. He was glad that his mom knew how to get to the good swimming spots behind the train tracks.
They parked along a stretch of road where the riverbank wasn’t too steep and then gathered their gear.
“Mom?” asked Sandra, on the short hike through the brush and trees. “Why do they call it the Ohio River when this side is Indiana and the other side is Kentucky?”
Her mother smiled. “Because,” she answered simply.
Darwin rolled his eyes. “You ask that same question every time we come here.”
Sandra stuck her tongue out at her brother and shoved past him to be the first to the water.
Not having any of it, he chased after her, grabbing at her ponytail.
“Ow, Mom!” she screamed.
Naomi sighed. She spread the blanket over a shady spot in the rocky, clumpy grass and pointed. “You two sit here. You have to wait until I say you can swim.”
Darrell snickered as his brother and sister sat down on the blanket. He set about, searching the shore for a stick that was long enough to poke at the bottom. He liked to know what was down in the water before he started walking around in it.
Darwin inched to the farthest edge of the blanket, and Sandra scooted to the opposite corner, their backs to one another.
Louise stopped to put her things on the blanket. “Your mother deserves better from the two of you,” she scolded. “You just remember that she works hard for you.”
“Yes ma’am,” Darwin mumbled, poking a small stick into the rocky sand.
Sandra nodded and used the back of her hand to wipe at the tears. She obviously didn’t like being reprimanded.
“Now, don’t cry,” said Louise. “It’s just so hot. Give her a minute to cool off; we’ll have you in the water in no time.” She stood and stepped carefully through the brush to place her tube in the weedy water. Gently, she eased her body into it and pushed back from the edge.
Naomi, already in up to her waist, stretched her arms above her head. “This is the life, Louise. We should start our own country club, right here on the riverside.”
Both women laughed, and Naomi dove underwater. She took several strokes and came up for air about 15 yards out. Laughing and treading water to stay in place against the current, she shouted to Darrell, “Quit your worrying about what’s in the water, and just get in!”
Darrell scowled at his mother, feeling embarrassed in front of Louise.
“Naomi,” shouted Louise, “let the other two get in. They’ve suffered enough in this heat.”
“Oh, alright,” said Naomi. “Darwin and Sandra, you can get in, but I don’t want to hear another peep out of you.”
“Yes, ma’am,” said Darwin, scrambling off his corner of the blanket.
“Okay, mom,” said Sandra, skipping to the water’s edge.
Naomi felt something brush against her leg and kicked hard against it. That was the worst part of swimming here: wondering if the river fish might venture this close to the shore. She leaned back in the water and floated on her back, giving whatever it might be wide berth to lumber on to wherever it was going.
Instead, something reached up and gripped her leg. She screamed, and it tugged hard, yanking her underneath the water.
The water swirled around her, and she fought against the panic that comes with not being able to breathe.
The claw-like grasp on her leg tightened, and she went down, closer to the bottom. With her free leg, she kicked hard at whatever it was, trying to push it away and loosen her trapped leg from its claws. Her foot slipped against the creature’s slimy, scaly body.
Naomi knew that she was running out of time. She needed a precious breath of air. With one final kick, she thrashed hard, this time adding a punch to the general vicinity of the creature’s head, hoping it didn’t have teeth.
Her effort was finally enough. Naomi’s head broke the surface of the water, and she gasped.
“Mom!” screamed Darrell, rushing toward the water.
“No,” yelled Naomi, sputtering and trying to catch her breath. “Don’t come in—there’s something in here!”
At the panic in her voice, Darrell froze, and his siblings scrambled back, away from the edge of the water.
Louise, struggling to get out of her inner tube, screamed and pointed. “Look out!”
At the same moment, Naomi felt the creature again. Its clawed hand grabbed at her leg, but she propelled her arms in a strong freestyle stroke and kicked her feet before it could lock its grip. She darted through the water, toward the shore.
Not this time, she thought.
By the time Naomi got to shore, Louise had managed to get out of her floating prison and reached to help her up to safety.
Naomi brushed a hand through her matted hair. The shivers racking through her body seemed somewhat ironic on a 96-degree day. She studied the scratches on her leg. Three parallel gashes—two on her shin and one on her calf—ran down from her knee to her ankle. Right in the middle, a palm-print, bluish-green in color and about the size of an apple, seemed to glow in the hot sun.
“What was that?” asked Darwin.
“I have no idea,” said Naomi, unable to keep her voice from shaking.
Sandra rushed to her mother. “I thought it was going to eat you,” she cried.
Not long after, the children were back at school when Naomi answered a knock at the door. She peeked through the thin, pink curtain. A man in a suit stood, waiting. She opened the door.
“Can I help you?” she asked.
“Are you Mrs. Darwin Johnson?” asked the man.
“Yes, I’m Naomi Johnson.”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out an ID badge. “I’m from the United States Air Force.” He held it out.
Naomi glanced at it before he tucked it back into his suit pocket and took out a small notebook and a pen.
“Would you like to come in?” Naomi asked. “The kids will be home from school soon, and I made some lemonade.”
“No, but thank you, ma’am.” He glanced around, as if looking to see if there were anyone who might overhear. “It’s my understanding that you sought medical attention for an incident that happened while swimming on the Ohio River a few weeks ago.”
“Well … yes,” stammered Naomi. “My leg was bleeding badly. There were large scratches. My friend Louise left and called for an ambulance. I told her she was being silly. But they came, and they treated me there. It was nothing, really.”
“Louise?” he asked, flipping through the pages of his little book. “Would that be, Mrs. Chris Lambell?”
“Yes,” said Naomi.
“And after, did you speak to the newspaper about the river incident?”
Naomi blushed. “Well, yes, the children told everyone, and my daughter, Sandra, has a friend whose father works at the newspaper. It was just a matter of time before he called to ask about it.”
He wrote another note.
“Is there … is there a problem?”
“No, ma’am.” He smiled.
“Are you sure you don’t want to come in?” she asked.
“No, I think we’re finished.” He flashed his smile again. “But from now on, I would like to highly encourage you not to say anything further about this incident.”
Naomi’s eyes widened in surprise. “Sir?”
“It’s a matter of national security, ma’am. Confidential. Please don’t discuss it with anyone further.”
“Yes, sir,” she whispered. “I understand.”
He nodded. “Sorry to disturb you. Have a nice day.” He tipped his hat and left.
Naomi closed the door and leaned against it. She pressed her fingers against her forehead, as if to massage away a headache. A shiver raced through her body as the realization of the man’s words settled upon her.
She looked down, and her hand reached for the mark on her leg. The bluish-green handprint from that terrible day at the river, it still hadn’t gone away—no matter how many times she scrubbed at it.