The Secrets of Cripple Creek (work in progress)00:19 Nov 29 2011
Times Read: 509
Chapter 1: The Shadows
The chilling mist flowing sluggishly over the harbor was cast in an eerie glow by the light of a luminescent moon. It's tangled ethereal tentacles reaching and grasping as if in a desperate appeal to quench an eternal thirst. Founded in 1932, the town of Cripple Creek remarkably stayed quite small throughout the years with a population just under 500. There were few outsiders who have managed to avoid the action of blinking thus passing the town in their travels. The town itself consisted of few structures-the most prominent being an old courthouse, a bank, and the local market all in need of serious repair. Mainstreet was a two block area featuring a barber shop, the town doctor's office, a ladies dress shop, and a few other small local businesses. Perhaps the first and foremost things a stranger to the town of Cripple Creek would notice would be the odd absence of a theater, a mall, fast-food restaurants, or even a park.Then they would notice the silence. The silence was overwhelming and marked the air with an uncomfortable sense of urgency. Happiness did not make it's abode in Cripple Creek. It was clearly evident on the unsmiling faces of it's patrons and the stark dead eyes void of emotion - eyes which stared off into the vast horizon as if waiting for something which has yet to arrive and free them from the secrets in which they keep.
Presently thus being the ruminations of the latest family of visitors to beat a speedy retreat from the town of Cripple Creek. The silver toned new model Volvo easily stretched the distance between the town and its passengers. Two small blue eyes peeped over the top of the backseat gazing at the shrinking image of the buildings, popping open in wonder and sudden realization of a new discovery. Turning to face front with a flurry of energy rivaling that of a tornado, a small voice cracked the blistering silence.
"Daddy, where were all the children?"
The silence returned leaving the echo of the question churning within the minds of each family member as "Daddy" avoided eye contact should any of his loved ones happen to notice the fear lurking behind the surface of his visage.
A sense of foreboding, instinct if you will, can easily stamped down the physical demands of the body to find the nearest bathroom.
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On a stretch of highway, Janet Marshall stood beside the passenger side door of the white Ford Explorer smoothing the loose tendrils of her dark hair back into place as she waited patiently while her husband's head periodically popped in and out of view from under the hood of the vehicle. Peals of giggles could be heard coming from inside the car and she couldn't stop the grin from spreading across her face even as she thought she would have to tell those kids to calm down. Crossing her arms over her chest in what she hoped was a stern appearance, she turned and put her face close to the window and peered in. Michael Marshall at eight years old clearly had the advantage over his younger sister, Lydia, whom had just turned six. Lydia was struggling valiantly to escape Michael's stranglehold on her while he was in the process of crushing her small blonde head into the crook of his arm while reaching around with his free arm and forming a fist in which to proffer a really good noogie on her scalp. As if sensing the eyes of their mother upon them, they both froze in midair and looked straight at the window in which their mom's face hung like a cartoon monster on the television screen. The betraying, shaky grin on her face gave her away and the children burst forth in new squeals of laughter as Janet pressed her image against the glass squishing her nose and cheeks against the surface as her blue eyes bugged out and crossed together. Michael and Lydia, not to be outdone by their mother, followed suit and rushed to the window in order to press their own little faces into the glass while making ghostly sounds in between fits of chuckling. Janet was grateful for the ability the children have of not worrying about breaking down in the middle of nowhere, so she let them carry on in all their playfulness as she turned and strode to the front of the car towards her husband.
Kyle Marshall took a step back from under the hood and straightened his back twisting and stretching the muscles to loosen the tension gained from being bent over in one position for a lengthy period of time. Reaching for the stack of napkins left over from their last stop at fast-food, he wiped his hands and fingers covered with grease and oil onto the white surface while contemplating the dilemma at hand. With one hand on the small of his back, he used the other hand to coarse through his tawny locks and sighed as he strolled to his wife's small frame. His hazel eyes squinted against the glare of the afternoon sun while he spotted the questioning image on his wife's features.
"Well, Janet, it seems we really have a problem here. The carburetor is acting up and she's not getting enough gas pumped through the lines. I didn't bring the tools I need to fix her, so I'm going to need to find some help for us. I saw a sign a few miles back saying that a town was nearby, only about 10 miles down the road, Cradle Creek or Curdle Creek, something like that, so while you stay with the kids, I'm going to start walking there. I'll get the tools I need or hopefully someone to come back and help us out." Kyle said while running his hands up and down her arms reassuringly.
Looking off towards the distance, he thought of taking a bottle of water with him for the walk ahead then thought better of it. Since there were only three bottles left, he'd better leave those for Janet and the children. Janet grasped at one of her husband's arms just as he was turning to leave and stated in a low voice so the children wouldn't over hear,
"But, Kyle, when will you get back? It'll be getting dark soon and the kids will be getting hungry, and...I'm sorry, Kyle...It's just that, I don't want you to leave, but I know you have to and...I'm scared, Kyle. We're out in the middle of God knows where and what if something happens when you're gone?"
He gathered her in his arms and held her small form against his beating heart while running his fingers through her long, dark hair.
"It's going to be alright, Janet. It won't take me long and I'll be back way before the sun goes down. I'll even bring something back to eat for all of us. Just stay with the kids in the car and lock the doors for me, okay? If anyone stops, don't open the doors unless it's a cop and you see his badge, you got that? You'll be fine, the kids will be fine, and I'll be fine, so quit worrying! If I'm going to keep my promise and be back before nightfall, I have to leave now or wind up eating my own words. Tell the kids that I went to get something to eat and to get some things from town. Then we'll all go find a hotel to stay in tonight."
With that, Kyle kissed his wife tenderly and handed over the keys to the Explorer while he swiftly started his journey in the direction of the town. Janet watched the retreating back of his body and sighed with reconciliation as she climbed into the vehicle, shut the door, and pushed the automated lock button. Michael's brunette head stared out the rear window at his father who's image began to shrink as the distance between them grew and he asked in a high pitch voice,
"Where's Daddy going, Mommy?"
He twisted in the seat to look first at Lydia who returned his questioning look and then they both looked towards their mother who was glancing in the rearview window. Calmly and in a voice which sounded much more confident than she felt, she replied,
"He's going to get us dinner and find someone who can help us, darlings, so don't worry, Daddy will be back very soon."
The children, mollified and deciding that everything was okay after all, returned to playing and giggling as Janet prayed silently that the tingling foreboding feeling she was experiencing running up and down her spine would go away.
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Chapter 2: The Musings
Kyle was five miles into his journey towards town when he mentally regretted his decision to leave the bottle of water behind. With each new step his body was reminding him that his athletic teenage years of playing football were a thing of the past and he was in no shape to be trekking ten long miles in the hot afternoon sun.
Pushing onwards with a strength born of frustration, he ignored the wet, squishy feeling of what dawned on him to be a blister on the side of his foot which had popped open under the scraping pressure and duress caused by the new shoes he wore. The vacation wasn't going as he had planned. This family trip of theirs was turning out to be more of a nightmare than the wonderful road trip he had envisioned. Ever since watching the National Lampoons movies, he had wanted to do something similar with a family of his own. So much for that hair brained scheme he thought as he mentally kicked himself for an idiot. Of course, the car breaking down was in fact similar to the movie, but from his current point of view not near as comical. Every once in awhile, he would hear the approaching whir of an oncoming car or semi and swiftly turn to raise up an arm with his thumb sticking out in an attempt to hitch a ride towards town. Each time the vehicles would pass by him in blinding speed failing to halt in assistance. Kyle would wave mockingly at the passing drivers as if they understood, 'this will happen to you one day, and I'll be the one avoiding looking at you as I drive off, buddy!'
Wiping the sweat trickling down his brow with the edge of his shirt sleeve, he continued while allowing his thoughts of Janet and the kids to carry him off to another place and time.
They had met in college and both had their separate dreams and ideals of where life would take them. He had always aspired to work for the FBI, ever since he was a kid he could remember pretending to spy on everyone and catch the "bad guys". His parents even went so far as to purchase a television to put in his own room simply because he insisted on watching "his" programs, such as Unsolved Mysteries, FBI's Most Wanted, COPS, and The Forensic Files. He never became an agent for the FBI, but he did become a police officer for the LAPD, which carried with it its own set of pros and cons. Janet had wanted to pursue a career in the performing arts. She could have made it to the top too. She had the makings of a prima ballerina, one of the best, if it hadn't of been for the accident. They were both attending UCLA at the time and had been dating for two years. During their junior year, he had invited her to attend a weekend party at his frat house celebrating their football team's latest victory. They had had so much fun that night, dancing and hanging out with all their friends. He never even noticed that the designated driver for her group had betrayed the trust of everyone and started drinking herself. Towards dawn, the party came to a close with some passing out on the floors, couches and anywhere they could find a place to lay down while others gathered up their belongings and headed for the door. He vaguely remembered her group of friends gathering outside stumbling over one another while giggling about their drunken state as he motioned to Janet that it was time to leave. Trying to control the blurring of his vision and the swirling stars dancing in his head, he asked Janet to stay the night with him assuring her that he was in no shape to make advances on her as much as he really wanted to. She declined not so much to his advances but due to the fact that she wasn't feeling so well and just wanted to sleep it off. So, she kissed him goodnight and left with her friends. He was awoken by the tugging on his arm from one of his frat brothers. The car Janet was in had crashed.
Three were dead and two in critical condition-Janet was one of the two survivors listed in the hospital. She did not remain unscathed however suffering from a broken vertebrae, three fractured ribs, and a right leg broken in two places. She never drank another drop of alcohol after the accident, but unfortunately, she never danced again either. Although he never told her, he carried the guilt of having let her leave that night even if deep down he knew it was not his fault. She recovered for the most part and they got married that same year. She finished her college degree in the Arts and took up a teaching job at the local high school. He on the other hand, dropped out of UCLA, went to the police academy and became a police officer. After trying to conceive a child unsuccessfully for two years, they went to their physician and found success in artificial insemination.
Michael James Marshall was born with a crown of dark brown curls after his mother and the hazel eyes of his father. He was an inquisitive child and prone to mischief. But even as an infant, Michael rarely cried. Two years later, they performed the procedure again and gave birth to Lydia Renee Marshall. She came into the world howling in denial of being ripped from her mother's womb. She was a loving angel one moment and a stubborn strategist the next. What she lacked in her brother's strength in combat, she made up for with her cunning ways of getting her brother into trouble. After the birth of their daughter, the physician told them that Janet's body would not be able to withstand the weight and pressure of another child. Janet and Kyle were both in agreement that they would be forever grateful for the two children they had conceived.
Chapter 3: The Warnings
During his mind's meanderings into the past, Kyle failed to notice the tan, beaten up and rusted old Chevy that had just passed him. It was now turning around and approaching up behind him while slowing in the process of coming to a stop. Kyle pivoted around and walked towards the passenger side window which the driver was rolling down with seemingly great effort since it appeared to be sticking in certain places when it hit the rubber siding. He grimaced upon seeing the man covered in dirt and grime, his hair slicked back not with gel but with the natural oils of his scalp betraying the fact that the man probably hadn't showered for a very long time. The man smiled at him showing a mouth full of rotten teeth and a few that were missing as well.
"Hi there mister! Havin a bit of trouble out chere? Ma name's Warren. Ya needs a ride somewheres?"
Kyle looked at Warren, then looked at the stretch of road before him and honestly didn't know which would be worse. Riding the rest of the way with Warren while smelling his filth and risking the chance of inheriting lice or walking the rest of the way to the town with his feet protesting in agony. He threw caution to the wind and hopped into the Chevy breathing a heavy sigh of relief to be off his feet that were throbbing and hot from his travels. Warren peered at him sideways through one eye and queried,
"So, what's yer name mister? I ain't seen ya round these parts afore. I'm just a warnin ya that I dun normally pick up hitchers, so dunt go tryin to pull a fast one on me now, ya hear?"
Kyle copied the sly glance he was receiving from Warren and replied in return,
"Kyle Marshall...thanks for the ride and no Warren, I'm not in any mood to be pulling a fast one on you. I'm trying to get to the town about 4 miles ahead. My family and I broke down approximately 6 miles farther back and I need to get some help. Do you have any idea if the nearest town has a towing facility?"
Warren scratched his oily head with a dirty fingernail and bit his lip as if it would crank his brain into thinking of an intelligent response.
"Hmmm...ya dun by any chance mean Cripple Creek now do ya? Well mister, er Kyle I mean, ya dun wanna go there. No sir! Dem people are plain weird n' I mean crazy weird, ya know?"
Kyle shifted his feet wishing he had the nerve to ask Warren if he could remove his shoe to take a look at the blister that had busted open earlier, but instead, he just rubbed the tender sole of his foot and said,
"What do you mean by weird or crazy weird for that matter? As long as they have a phone, they will seem okay in my book."
Warren chuckled, gifting Kyle once more with a glimpse of stained and broken teeth. Then his grin faded as he grew serious and somberly said,
"Ma daddy used to work fer dem townsfolk there...hauling food, medicines, nicknacks n' all sorts of udder items back n' forth. He said it paid purdy darn good n' all, but dem people never smiled or waved, never said howdy or thank ye, dey just stared at him with dem cold eyes, paid him the money n' watched him as he left town. One time ma daddy came back from Cripple Creek and was all shook up like a squirrel dun ran up his leg or sumptin. His face was pert white all over and he jus kept mumblin under his breathe...sumptin about dey'd kill him if he told da secret. Den, I remember when I was jus a kid I went with ma Daddy on one of his trips. I was waitin on da sidewalk fer him to finish his businez when I felt da little prickly hairs on the back of ma neck raise up like needles sticking out of a pincushion. I turned round n' saw old man Ballard, the Barber, just standing in da middle of da street staring at me with dem same cold dead eyes ma Daddy talked bout. But there was sumptin else there too. Sumptin I never told ma Daddy. Ballard was looking at me like he was starved an hadn't eaten a meal in a long, long time. Dun pert scared me to death it did! I ran like heck to fetch ma Pa and hightailed it to the truck! I never forgot dem eyes. Wanna know what I think da secret is?"
Warren swung his head sideways to glance at Kyle with his beady penetrating black eyes. Kyle wasn't so sure that Warren was playing with a full deck, but natural curiousity bid him to ask,
"Okay, Warren. What do you think the secret is?"
Warren pivoted his gaze back to the road and furrowed his brow in thought.
"I think dem weird people dun sold their souls to da devil and ate their own kids, that's what I think all right. But anyways, iffin you're in a lick of trouble, I guess I can hep ya out since ya seem like decent folk to me. I live about seven miles outside of Cripple Creek n' I'm sure I can find the tools in my shed yer a wantin. We can head on back to fetch yer family and then head on out to ma place for the night. Iffin that's okay wicha. I have the room since ma brother passed away more den a year ago. So whacha say?"
Warren glanced at Kyle's profile deep in thought wondering what the quiet man must be thinking of him after his long haunting speech about the town of Cripple Creek. Kyle looked back at the smiling face of Warren silently wishing the man would quit smiling or at least brush what was left of his teeth, then once again found himself hoping he wouldn't regret the decision he was making that day.
"Sure, Warren, that sounds just fine with me. And Warren...thank you."
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