The Return
Raquel used the flashlight from her pack to carefully follow the path she’d made with the guys on their way out to get back to her Miata, parked beside the young men’s old RV. The weight of the heavy coins in her backpack slowed Raquel and the unnatural quiet in the swamp spooked her some. Raquel couldn’t understand why there were no night sounds. She heard no crickets or tree frogs, no hooting of owls, or cooing of night doves. Perhaps Angelique’s passing from the swamp with the other ghosts left a void of some sort.
She wanted to get back to her car and go home. Shock and fatigue began to weigh her down as much as the weight of Angelique’s treasure on her back. She was eager to get it home and count it.
Am I rich now? Can I just tell mother to stick the Clairvoux money where the sun doesn’t shine? That would be beyond awesome. It would be nice to have some extra cash with babies coming. Oh my God, babies. I’m gonna have to buy cribs and all that shit.
Something rustled in the bushes to her left and Raquel pointed the beam of her flashlight in that direction. The narrow shaft of light fell upon a mass of honeysuckle vines shrouding the dead limbs of an old stand of plums. Mike and Bobby had rooted around in it earlier, saying it looked like a place someone might have hidden. Raquel and Tony had both poo pooed it, telling them the thicket probably hadn’t been there when Angelique had been hunting for a hiding place.
Bobby had come out with what looked like human bones, but they’d probably been those of a large animal. Bear, wolves, and large deer roamed the bayou. They were probably just the old bones of one of those animals. They hadn’t found a skull of any kind to make a more positive identification of species.
Raquel knew now; they weren’t the bones of Angelique Clairvoux. She shrugged the heavy pack, adjusting it on her aching shoulders and heard the rustling sound coming from the thicket again, but didn’t see anything.
It’s probably just a rabbit out for an evening stroll. Raquel started toward her car again, ignoring the sound of creatures in the warren of vines and dead branches.
Dark eyes followed the silhouette of the girl. Though she wore strange clothes, he’d been certain it had been a girl. He couldn’t mistake the obvious breasts in her revealing garments. How long had it been since his last girl? Had sweet Millie really been his last? Silas Tremball closed his eyes and tried to remember. For some reason he sensed a longer passage of time, but he wasn’t certain.
He slipped out of his hiding spot and began following the girl. She carried a strange candle or lantern. The slender tube with light emanating from one end was nothing like Silas had ever seen. Perhaps it was a new Yankee invention. The newspapers were always reporting on this new invention or that, coming from laboratories in the north or from Europe.
Silas followed the light, but stopped dead in his tracks when he heard a loud buzzing coming from the direction of the river. The memory of pain and horror came to mind with the sound. He peered through the gloom toward the river and the irritating sound. It moved closer and along with it he saw lights. Soon he heard laughter over the sound of the buzzing and that brought about another chill down his long spine. Why would buzzing and laughter give him the willies? And where was Albert? The little bastard had dragged Silas out here to this godforsaken place to look for his silly treasure and then disappeared. He must have snuck off back to town for a drink while Silas napped under the bushes.
The buzzing didn’t come from insects, but from a small skiff upon the river. How very strange. Lanterns hung over the edge of the boat, illuminating the water and the people aboard. Two heavily bearded men threw lines into the water, while two women dressed like men in trousers and obscenely revealing blouses laughed and lit small cigars. Silas recognized the scent of burning tobacco on the breeze. He shook his head in disgust. Creole trash. Only they would allow their women to go about half-dressed and smoking tobacco. One of the women saw Silas standing on the bank and waved. He ignored her and turned back toward the girl.
“Yah, well fuck you too, asshole,” the woman yelled across the water and lifted a hand with the middle finger extended into the air. How very rude. Silas reached for the little knife at his belt. Perhaps the bitch needed to be taught a lesson. He shook his head in disgust. Too fat and ugly.
The young woman’s strange light moved farther ahead of him and Silas used his long legs to hurry toward her. Thinking about the strange clothing on the women, Silas glanced down to see he wore his black leather breaches and duster. In confusion, he lifted his hand to his head to feel his hat. When had he changed into these? He distinctly remembered putting on other clothes in the hotel that morning. He hadn’t wanted to muddy his leathers in the swamp. But had it been that morning?
The strange light cast its glow upon another unnatural thing. Silas stared at it, but couldn’t imagine what it could be. The buzzing from the boat sounded again, but this time louder. He watched as the boat turned swiftly in the water without the boatmen using any oars, and then sped off across the water at an incredibly high rate of speed. How was that possible? Was it more voodoo magic? Were the rude half-dressed women witches? Silas turned back toward the young woman. She approached a strange object. Her light reflected off a bright white exterior. It must be a carriage as it rested upon four strange wheels, though very close to the ground. He could see leather-clad seats behind a large clear glass wind screen. He’d seen carriages in Birmingham with glass windscreens to protect the passengers, but this little carriage had no harnesses and Silas saw no horses grazing nearby.
The girl took the pack from her back and dropped it into the strange little open carriage. Silas walked up, but the girl didn’t notice him or react to his presence. She didn’t appear to be upset by the odd boat on the river, either. She rummaged in another satchel. He thought about it and miraculously found himself seated beside the girl in the strange carriage. She inserted a small key into a slot below an odd wheel she sat behind. Silas could now see she was quite pretty with curly dark hair. She turned the key and Silas yelped at the explosion coming from the front of the odd vehicle. She didn’t hear him. Colored lights flared on a panel behind the wheel and Silas could see that the girl’s curls were red.
The pretty young woman yanked on a lever between their seats and the carriage began to back up.
What manner of deviltry is this? Silas yelled, but the girl didn’t hear him. Perhaps the noise coming from the strange carriage made it difficult for him to be heard.
Is this some sort of miniature steam engine? No, it can’t be that. There’s no room for a firebox or boiler. Silas grabbed the girl’s arm. She took no note. Silas held his hand before his face in amazement. He could see the green and red lights on the panel through his flesh and bone.
What has happened to me? I must be sleeping and this is some bizarre dream. I’ll wake soon and Bert will be sitting there drunken and laughing at me. Silas felt a moment of relief. Where the hell did he run off to anyhow?
Silas remembered something then. He remembered the sound of Bert’s voice calling his name, telling him to watch out for hornets.
Hornets. I remember the hornets. I remember the stinging and the horrible pain. Albert left me in those bushes being stung to death by hornets. Silas put a hand to his mouth. I’m dead. I remember the little bastards stinging my mouth. I couldn’t breathe. Silas looked at the pretty redhead whose hair blew in the wind as the strange carriage, like the boat, picked up speed. They were on a narrow road along the river. The same road he and Albert had traveled, but not the same. Silas saw docks jutting out into the river with tall poles holding bright lanterns. The lamps were bright, but Silas saw no flame within.
How is that possible?
The girl turned the carriage onto a road and its lights shown out upon a black smooth surface. If Silas remembered correctly, the stilt house holding sweet Millie’s decaying corpse should be just ahead on their right. It was not. Silas stared at a fenced area lit by more tall bright lamps. A sign read: Clairvoux Brewing Authorized Vehicles Only.
Clairvoux was the name of the witch. This is where her family home stood. This is where I left Millie to rot. Silas stared at the brightly lit area and the monstrous things parked therein. They were huge and had wheels like this little carriage he rode in now, but different. Each one had Clairvoux Brewing lettered on the side. They must be huge wagons, but rather than being pulled by horses, larger versions of this little carriage moved them.
What sort of Clairvoux witchcraft is this?
The carriage moved by some magical force Silas didn’t understand, carried them through a town Silas didn’t recognize. More of the odd carriages of different sizes, shapes, and colors lined the streets. Bright light oozed from the windows of buildings, unfamiliar in design to Silas. They passed the opera house, but it looked old and dilapidated. The Grande Hotel was no longer grand. Le Petit Paris Cafe, however, sat on the same corner as it had when he and Millie shared a meal and looked much the same with wrought iron tables and chairs out front. Had he been here with her last night? Had he eaten breakfast here this morning with Bert? Candles lit the tables, but bright oddly blue light streamed out the wide front windows. The redhead waved at somebody as they passed. Silas wished he could question this girl, but no matter what he tried to do, he could not get her attention. She could not hear him. She did not see him and she could not feel him when he touched her.
Why can this one not see me when the one in the boat could?
Silas’s eyes went wide when he saw a young woman with bright blonde curls walk out of the little café. Her hair caught his attention, but what she wore caught it more. Only her torso was covered and that in a close-fitting black garment. Every curve was hugged tightly and Silas drank in the deep cleavage of her breasts and the pale skin of her long shapely legs. His cock began to throb. He fingered his little knife.
Will that one be able to see me? If they can’t see me or feel me when I touch them how will I make them scream? His cock wilted.
When this carriage stopped he’d get out and walk into town to find another woman who could see and feel him. Silas Tremball didn’t understand this strange world he found himself in, but he would figure it out. He’d found one woman who could see him. There had to be others. Just because this little redhead couldn’t see or feel him, it didn’t mean all of them couldn’t. Perhaps there was a way he could use that to his advantage. Was this Purgatory or Hell? Was he being punished with having the objects of his desire and pleasure made unable to see or feel him? Silas refused to be denied.
The girl stopped the carriage on a gravel path beside a modest, but well-kept cottage. He waited for the girl to retrieve her belongings and walk into the cottage before exiting the carriage. He saw the windows light up and wondered at how quickly she could light her lanterns.
More magic perhaps.
Silas thought about it and found himself standing beside the strange magical carriage. He thought himself into and out of it a few more times before turning to walk back toward the brighter lights of the unfamiliar town. His boots tread upon wide smooth walkways, bordering the neatly trimmed lawns and the amazingly smooth black streets. Light coming from the windows of the houses and the oddly pink streetlamps illuminated his way. Silas saw more of the odd carriages sitting along the streets and next to the houses.
He heard laughter and talking coming from the open windows and door. He approached a house, wondering how they kept the ravenous mosquitoes from entering. Amazingly, he found mesh fabric pulled tight, covering the open windows. Silas jumped when a small dog saw him and lunged at the door. A man walked to the door and peered out. Though he stood directly before the open door, the man didn’t seem to see Silas at all.
“What the fuck, Buddy,” the man said and scooped up the small animal that still looked through the door at Silas and growled menacingly. “Was it Pete’s damned cat in the yard again? Well you sure told him.”
Silas wondered why the tiny dog could see him when the man could not. He adjusted his hat and walked on. On the main street, Silas heard music coming from an old building. Brightly colored lights hung in the windows. One spelled out Clairvoux Brew in glowing red light. He looked up the street and saw the little café. Amazed, Silas realized this was the same tavern where he’d met the lovely Millie. As he was about to walk in, a group of three young Negro women walked out. They all wore tight fitting denim trousers and blouses made of fabrics that hugged their curves. Women here appeared well-fed with fat bulging everywhere.
Two walked past Silas without giving him notice, but another gave him a long look up and down.
“You lookin’ for some company, sugar?” she asked, running a hand up Silas’s arm. He could smell alcohol and tobacco on her breath. “Buy me a drink and I’ll show you a good time.”
“I’m sorry, madam, but I don’t consort with Negress whores.” Silas turned and strode away.
“What you call me, motherfucker?” the woman yelled after him. “Did you hear what that honky motherfucker just called me?” Silas glanced back to see her storming off down the street to join her friends. “What you mean you don’t see anyone? It’s that big bastard there in black walkin’ away.”
Just my luck. The only ones who can see and hear me are dogs and darkie whores.
Silas peeked into the dark smoky tavern and saw it filled with Negroes. He had no interest in Negroes and walked on toward the café where he’d seen the blonde earlier.
I’m not going to stop until I find a white woman who can see me. I’m certain the one in the boat had been white.
He smiled as he approached Le Petite Paris Café and saw the blonde sitting alone at a table on the patio. Silas smiled wider when the young woman smiled at him as he stepped up onto the flagstone patio. He walked up to her and peered down at her ample cleavage,
“Hello, my dear, how are you this fine lovely evening?”