Chapter Text
|-Saturday evening. April 6th, 2024. 680 Old Savannah Road, Burgaw, North Carolina-|
The truck's engine hums as we continue down the road. Map says we're in the right place, but what I'm seeing outside the windows tells me that we're out in the middle of bumfuck nowhere. How fun…
"How much longer till we get there?" I ask Bo, wanting nothing more than to be within four walls so that these damn eyes can get off my back.
"Give it 'bout fifteen more minutes." He responds, eyes never leaving the road as the sky gets darker and darker. Everywhere I look, I see little red dots in the trees and crop fields. I know Murim's out there… He's got to be... Why else would we be coming out this far? Gawd, what I'd give ta get my life back ta some kinda normal.
You know that's impossible. Not when you have Murim's hex in your eye.
Oh, don't even start.
You'll fail.
Where there's a will there's a god damn way, little missy.
He'll keep coming after you.
Let him. I have a hammer. I can cave in his skull.
I tune out of that, I'm not in the mood for arguing with a disembodied voice possessing a brooch. All this occult shit is wearing me down and I hate every second of it. So I just stare out the window, watching the sky getting darker as the sun dips below the horizon and the moon rises. Waning crescent… Think either tomorrow or the next day it'll be new. That can't be a good sign. I'll need to talk to Senara about it when me and Bo get settled at his granddad's. Speaking of… He turns right past a church onto Coras Grove Road. Something tells me we're getting closer.
"Almost there?" I ask off instinct, doing my best to stifle a yawn because I still haven't gotten any good sleep for the past few days.
"Yeah, just 'bout there." Bo says as he keeps driving down the road, eyes flicking between the rearview mirror and the road before he speaks up again. "Just a hop, skip and a jump shy of two miles."
"Good. Maybe we'll finally be able ta get this shit ova wit'." I say, slumping down in my seat as we hit a bump in the road. Probably a squirrel that got caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. Bo keeps his speed steady. but then starts slowing down, meaning that we've arrived. Immediately I can tell that something's wrong. Guess my hunch from earlier was right. Bo's granddad called because Murim was messing with him. A ploy to get me here and turn me into a proxy or whatever the fuck he wants to do with me. I take a deep breath as the truck crawls to a stop, unbuckling my seatbelt as soon as Bo turns off the engine. We then both step out, and things just keep feeling more wrong. There's this weird unnatural fog that shouldn't be here. It's the kind of thing you'd expect to see in front of a haunted house during October, except it's early April and it was a balmy sixty three degrees Fahrenheit with clear skies. Right now, it's about fifty though the humidity is reported at 68%. Though I don't think that's enough for fog to be present. I turn my head and see a crop field past some trees on the left by the drive way. Murim's in there. I can tell. I see the little red dots leering at me from the stalks of… whatever was planted there a few weeks earlier. Corn or wheat, I don't know. Not that I care about that much. I just stand there for a few seconds, staring past those trees, trying to see if those little red dots will move. They don't. They stay locked onto me as much as I'm locked onto them. He knows I'm here. Because of course he does. He set this whole thing up. Why wouldn't he see me here? Damn bird…
"Hey, Cam. You doin' alright?" I hear Bo ask, head snapping to attention so I can respond to him.
"Uh, yeah. I'm doing okay. Just, uh… Thought I saw something past the trees." I say, feeling the urge to run into that field and strangle the little feathered fuck.
"Don't you even think 'bout it. Come on now. Paw-Paw's in the house." Bo then retorts as he starts walking, gravel crunching under his boots. Guess I bettah follow 'im. We make our way to the door, Bo walking up a small set of stairs before he knocks on the aged wood.
knock
knock
knock
It takes a few seconds for Bo to get a response, but someone does come and open the door, and he does not look all that happy.
"Took ya long enough. Git on inside." The old man says, Bo following his words without a second thought. I do the same, not wanting to add to the guy's troubles. "Ay now, I got us some sweet tea an' coffee if you're a mind for it. An' if you'd rather, there's somethin' a bit stronger to wet your whistle."
"We'll take the sweet tea, thank you kindly. I don't reckon moonshine's gonna do us no good right now, Paw-Paw." Bo says, getting the old man to stop in his tracks and turn around. Guess he forgot Bo was bringing me with him.
"Oh, reckon so. You brung a buddy along. Tommy White." He says, extending his hand towards me as he approaches.
"Cam Albridge." I say as I take it, giving as firm of a shake as he can handle before I speak up again. "Bo told me about that story. About what that damn bird did to your brother."
"Well yeah, he done it, sho'nuff. That lil' bastard stops by ever' now an' agin just to sass me somethin' fierce." Tommy says as he starts walking towards his kitchen, me and Bo following closely so we can figure out what exactly happened, though I spy a gun case as we do so. Dem jawns might come in handy…
"So that lil' Crow's been on ya since the back end of March, huh? And he's been follerin' ya all the way down from Virginny?" Tommy asks me as he sips some tea from his cup, setting it down on his coaster as he eyes me up and down.
"More or less." I say, remembering how all of this started. Not exactly a pleasant memory with hindsight. "Little jagoff murderbird just appeared on top of my car after I woke up at three in the morning. Didn't know what to do at the time." I continue, watching Tommy's face closely as he listens. "From there, it's been downhill; Feeling like I'm being watched constantly. Weird dreams where I'm in this giant field of wheat. Jagoff even put his mark in my eye." Tommy just stares at me after I say that last part like he doesn't believe me. But then he stands up, grabs a small mirror then a notebook with a pen and sets them down in front of me.
"Draw it." He says, making me confused by what's going on. "Look at your face in that there mirror an' draw what you see in your eye. Now." I don't argue. I just start sketching what I see as best I can. It takes a few minutes, but I think I got it as close as I can. I then turn the notebook around and give it to Tommy and watch as he studies it. He then turns and sits back down across from me. "Sho'uff. Jest like Darrel said happened to him."
"I'm assuming Darrel was your brother?" I ask, knowing it isn't a good idea. But I continue speaking anyway. "What exactly happened? Bo only told me that he went out into that field with a shotgun because he was sick of crops dying and rotting as soon as they were harvested." Tommy takes a deep breath, then another swig of his tea before he starts speaking up. Time to hear it from the man himself.
"My brother, Darrel, he come into this world back in August of 1949. I popped out 'bout two years later come May of '51." He starts, looking out a window briefly before returning his attention back to me and Bo. "Now, this here ain't the first house set on this piece of ground. Our old place, it was a big'un. Built for a whole passel of folks even though it was just me, my brother and our momma and daddy. That field out yonder was bigger, too. Me and Darrel, we'd always head out and put them seeds down whenever our daddy told us to, mostly 'long 'bout early to mid spring."
"You never let on 'bout that part." Bo interjects as he downs the rest of his tea, standing up so he can refill his cup as Tommy starts talking again.
"At first, it was all right. Crops'd come up good, and we'd make a fair bit sellin' 'em down at the market. Then 'round '65, things started turnin'. First time we had a harvest come short-just a few bushels of wheat that year. But it just got worse with every pickin'." He says, face grimacing as he remembers what happened decades ago. "Then we'd get on up to Halloween week, and the mess would hit the fan, I tell you what. It'd start out slow like, then pick up steam. A dead squirrel here and yonder. Somethin' we'd chalk up to roadkill. Foxes tryin' to slip into the hen's houses, some makin' it inside, but the roosters'd give 'em a right good fight. Then came the crows…"
Stop.
What? No. Why shoul I stop him? I need to know this.
You don't want to.
Yes I do.
"Darrel was allus fixated on 'em. Every second he could git, he'd be outside watchin' 'em gather up in the trees an' on the scarecrows. Didn't unnerstand it at first." Tommy continues, watching me and Bo closely to make sure we're listening before he speaks up again. "I figured he'd plum lost his mind, gettin' all riled up 'cause the wheat come up bad agin. Then one year, '69 I reckon, he was out yonder-" He points out the window towards the field beyond the treeline. "Like he always was come late October, and seems like he wandered on out to the fields this time. Then he came back all bloody and beat-up, carryin' on about how one of them crows done put somethin' in his eye." Tommy pauses for a second, collecting his thoughts before he continues. "Daddy didn't take to believin' hm till one night back in '70 when he steeped up to a lookin' glass and drawed out what he was seein' in his eye. Looked jest like what you skecthed out right here, Cam." He says as he taps the page of the notebook where I drew Murim's hex as it looks in my eye. I don't like this feeling that's in my stomach right now. Not in the slightest.
"No way… Mu- The Crow put a hex on ya brudda…" I say, almost slipping up and saying Murim's name out loud. Seems it catches Tommy's attention.
"A hex? That's what you're fixin' to call it? A hex?" Tommy says as I realize that I said that out loud. Fuckin' smooth one, jagoff. "Well, that 'ould 'splain a mess of things." He then says as he takes another sip of sweet tea, briefly looking out the window before returning his attention to me and Bo. "All that hollerin' in the dead of night, carryin' on 'bout voices whisperin' in his noggin. All them strange sights he'd spout 'bout that nobody eles could catch a peek of. Reckon that there mark means he's the only one who could lay eyes on 'em and hear 'em."
thump
All three of us turn our heads to the window as something hits it. He's messing with us. Why else would he be doing this now? I turn to face Tommy, wanting to end this right now before things get worse.
"Save the rest for later. Something tells me we're at the end of this road for now." I say as I stand up, finishing my tea and heading into the living room, wanting to get whatever sleep I can before things get dicey.
|-The Ceramic Grove of Wheat-|
My eyes open slowly, the first thing I see being the moon looming above me. Notably not moving an inch in the sky. Fan-fuckin'-tastic. I'm back in tha Grove. Has to be a dream. Or I guess, a nightmare considering what happened the last time I was here after falling asleep. I quickly get to my feet and start moving. No telling how many zombies or nasty horse-crow hybrids are in this stalks. With no idea on where I should be going, I just wander. Certainly better than nothing though i would like to have some sort of goal while I'm here. Maybe climb up one of those old aqueducts again to get out of here if I see one. But something tells me that's just wishful thinking. Especially when this damn brooch starts talking to me again.
You're in danger.
Yeah, no shit Sherlock. This is just a dream, it has to be.
You don't know that.
I do, actually. I fell asleep on a couch. I did not go back outside. It's not like last time where I wandered around a damn forest for hours on end.
That sounds annoying.
It was. And then I ended up here.
This conversation keeps going as I walk, probably in circle but fuck it, even if I find this thing annoying, it's better than being alone out here.
That's horrible. Why would someone ever do that?
Great question. No fuckin' clue. All I know is that he was a jagoff and stabbed me in the back.
You have some interesting "friends".
Yeah, friends. That's one way to put it.
thrush
thrush
thrush
I turn around on my heel to face wherever that sound came from. Though like before, it sounds like multiple individuals moving around me at the same time. Hate how Murim makes that happen.
thrush
thrush
thrush
Another set of… things moves in the wheat stalks as I try to figure out exactly where they are coming from. One second it's behind me, then it's to my right before it's far away. Then just like that, it's right in front of me before heading to my left. It's hard to keep track with all the movement and sound that's happening here. I stay still, trying to zone in on where I might hear it next. I listen closely, but hear nothing. Not yet at least. I hold still for a few more seconds, but after it becomes apparent that I won't be hearing much, I start walking again, brooch yapping away once more.
Any idea what that was?
Got a few. You won't like any of them.
Probably right. Murim is crafty. Who knows what he'll send after you.
Oh, I know what he'll send after me.
I keep moving through the stalks, weary of what might be around the next plant. So I move carefully and slow, wanting to hear everything that's around me so I don't get jumped.
thrush
thrush
thrush
Left. On my left. I quickly bend down and grab a rock, chucking it into the stalks and watching what happens. What happens is exactly what I expected: one of those weird horse-crow things jumping out and pecking at where the stone landed. Just as I remembered. Those things respond to movement and sound. Probably because it can't see so it's relying on it's hearing to gauge where potential prey may be. Gotta be careful. I start moving even slower, occasionally picking up and rock and throwing it whenever I hear one of those things moving around in the wheat. Before long, I've found a clearing. A small bare circle where wheat isn't growing. Good place to rest. Well, "rest". If there's any deadheads here, they're definitely on my tail. Just don't know where they are. And that scares me. But I can spare some time here.
Not safe.
Nowhere in this place is safe.
This feels like a trap.
I wouldn't be surprised.
So then why are we stopping?
I want to rest a bit. No better place than this clearing.
I can tell this brooch isn't happy. Then again, neither am I. I hate being in this place. Dis stupid fuckin' Grove dat damn murderbird built fer hisself. Pisses me off. I sit down and look up, seeing that the moon hasn't moved an inch. Never does in this place. Don't know why I expected anything along those lines to change. God damn infuriating if you ask me. I linger here for a few minutes, inhaling deeply so that I can get a feel for what the air smells like. Yup, still reeks like a pile o' stiffs. Can't tell ya why I figgered it'd be diff'rnt. It's weird just how peaceful things are right now. No rustling in the stalks near me. No horrifying sounds being carried on the wind. Just me in this small clearing. So obviously something is wrong. This is the Ceramic Grove of Wheat I'm dreaming of right now. If there's a moment of calm, then something is gonna happen.
rustle
rustle
rustle
As if on cue… I hear the stalks moving on my left, followed by a very familiar sound.
grrrrrroooooooaaaaaaooooooooon
errreeerreraaaaaaaghghghaghghghgahghg
eeeeeaaaaaaeaeaeuuuuuuuuuugh
The dead heads have found me. Time to go.
I quickly get to my feet and start moving as the groaning gets louder. Must be a whole horde of the motherfuckers. Luckily, they're all behind me. For the most part… Out of nowhere, a zombie grabs my arm and starts pulling me closer, wanting to get a bite out of me. I immediately give resistance so as to not become one of those things, and then feel something heavy on my belt. My hammer. Comin' through clutch as always. I get it off my belt and immediately bash the zombie's rotting skull in, watching it drop to the ground in a lifeless lump. I don't get much time to actually look at it, though. Not with a whole horde of these things on my tail.
I'm moving fast through the stalks, the sounds of zombies and horse-crows surrounding me as I run. Every now and then a dead head tests it's luck, only to get it's skull caved in as I bring the hammer down. But I know that I'm only getting lucky. Sooner or later, I'll get grabbed by one that's got thicker skin. Bones that aren't as rotten. And that thought terrifies me. Because what happens when you die in a dream? You usually wake up since the brain can't comprehend what happens to you after you die. But what happens if something offs me here? I get the feeling that I'll actually die in the waking world. That my soul will come here and be nothing but food for Murim. But then again, Murim wants to make me a proxy for Him. He's not gonna let these dead heads eat me alive.
I keep running through the stalks, watching as they become thinner and thinner. That usually means I'm getting somewhere, like that forest or closer to the aqueducts. And I'm right… To a certain extent. I come to a cliff overlooking spares forests and even more fields of wheat, all surrounded by towering aqueducts that make up some impossible, non-euclidean geometry. I'm talkin' 'bout da kinna stuff you'd see on YouTube if ya wanna fry yer gray matter. Just looking at it makes my stomach hurt. I guess when I come here in a dream, Murim has even more control than he usually does. I take another step, shoe hitting something akin to marble. And that's when the brooch starts speaking again.
I don't like this. It's far too familiar in a bad way.
I'm right there with ya. But there's only one way to get out of here.
If you're so certain that you're dreaming, than jump. You'll wake up as soon as you hit the ground, right?
Sound logic. But unfortunately, we're in the Grove. I get the feeling that if this is a dream, and I die here, it'll be like some Nightmare on Elm Street shit: I die in real life as well.
screeeeeeeech
Without warning for the second time, I'm forcefully moved. This time, the slab of marble I'm on starts descending lower and lower towards the ground far below.
What the fuck?!
Crass language. Understandable though.
Oh don't even start with that right now. What's happening?
I think we're heading down further into the Grove. Only the Devil knows what we'll find.
Well that's reassuring…
The slab eventually comes to a stop, and I step off, looking around to see weird repeating patterns that I can't make sense of. It's startin' to hurt my noggin, honestly. Best to not think about it. I start moving, passing under ruined aqueducts and crumbling towers as eyes leer at me from every possible and impossible direction. In the sky, from the trees, under the brushes. Even through these old stone walls. It makes a pit form in my stomach, but I have to keep moving. No telling if those dead heads can follow me down here and I'd rather not find out the hard way.
click
click
click
It's coming from behind a wall on my right. I quickly grab a rock and chuck it in that general direction and see one of the horse-crows rush out. Because of course those things are down here… I quickly compose myself and start moving again. At least these things are easy to deal with. Just grab a rock when I hear one and throw it in that direction. Gets them moving out of my way every time. I keep repeating this time and time again until I've made some decent progress, coming to one of those impossible geometry buildings. Just the sight of it makes me nauseous. But still, I press on, ignoring all the odd sounds that permeate the air. Ignoring the weird, golden brown hue the sky has now taken on. Ignoring all the eyes that are on me. I try my best to make sense of this building, how the walls come together, where the corners lay and how they connect to the floor. But I just can't. I guess in this instance the architectural side of my brain needs to be shut off. Working in construction does that to ya, makes you think about how buildings are put together way too much sometimes. I start approaching faster, trying to see if I can placebo myself into thinking there's a way across the gap it's blocking. To my surprise, I can, and carefully start moving towards the next impossible building I see, repeating the same process of shutting off all the logic in my head and just moving on instinct. As soon as I'm in the clear, I take a deep breath. I should be good for now. No other gaps to cross by the looks of things. Until I hear his voice…
"Ah, Cameron. It's been a while since you were last in my humble abode, hasn't it?" I hear Murim's voice echo throughout the Grove, simultaneously next to me and far away. Definitely a ploy to intimidate me. To make me softer so that he can break my spirit. Not happening.
"I was wondering when you'd show up." I retort, looking around frantically as I try to find where that damn murderbird is hiding. "Of course, you're too much of a pussy to show your face. As always." I feel the air change as those words come out. It goes from still and dead to electric and tense. Seems I pissed Murim off. That can either be a good or a bad thing. Pro'ly a bad t'ing if this pit in my gut is anyt'ing to go by. I hear a rush of air behind me, and I quickly duck just in time as Murim swoops down from above, trying to take my head clean off. He then shifts form and lands twenty feet away from me, head laser focused on me.
"A poor choice of words, my dear friend." He says in that taunting manner I'm used to. Fuckin' hate dat shit. "So much to do, yet so little time. Who knows when you'll wake and return to Thomas' domicile."
I am dreaming…
So it would seem. But how do we get out of here without Murim following us?
We don't. You already knew that.
I quickly reach for my belt, wanting to grab my hammer but subtly. I can't let Murim see what I'm doing. Just a few more inches… I get my hand around the handle, and now I wait for Murim to turn his back to me. Just gotta let him monolouge for a bit.
"But then again, will you wake? Such an odd thing dreams can be. What truly happens when we drift away in slumber? How so vulnerable the body can be while it and the mind rest. So very vulnerable." He starts going, face still trained on me with a nasty grin on it. "Many things could happen to ones body while they sleep. Many uncouth and dangerous things. Are you even still in the domicile? Who's to say you weren't whisked off to the Grove in your sleep. That this isn't a dream. That this is real. That you are awake." Murim finally turns around the take in the sights of the Grove before him. Now's my chance. I quickly start moving, arm raised above my head so I can deliber the blow. But as I reach Murim…
thump
I trip and fall, hammer nearly coming out of my hand as I hit the ground. Dammit. He's learning.
"Ah, ah, ah. The same trick won't work twice, Cameron." Murim says as he looms over me. I quickly get to my feet and put some distance between me and him, but it's useless. I hear air rushing behind me before I'm lifted off my feet. After that, I'm slammed into a wall with some serious weight, hammer falling from my hand… followed by the brooch. Fuck. I'm hoisted up again as Murim changes form again, this time looking more like a demon, skin turning this disgusting grey and his wings become more fleshy and bat-like, only a sparse covering of feathers on his body. But that's not the worst of it.
I can see his face this time.
"It is time to wake up, Cameron." Murim says as the singular giant eye starts glowing this unearthly golden color, iris boring into my soul. It makes my head hurt. Like something is clawing straight into my skull. It gets worse and worse as the the glow becomes like a damn flashlight blasting right into my eyes. I close them in response, but it does nothing. That light is burning through my eyelids. I try to get out of Murim's grip, but that is also useless. He's too strong like this. His claws start digging into my skin, tearing the cloth of my shirt and puncturing the epidermis. Wouldn't be surprised if I'm bleeding. Wouldn't be surprised if I end up dead after this. So I give up and just let it happen…
|-Sunday morning, Witching Hour, April 7th 2024. 680 Old Savannah Road, Burgaw-|
My eyes creak open real slow, and all I see is that ceilin' fan spinnin' 'round above me while I'm flat on my back in the bed. That ain't a good feelin', I can already tell it's early as the devil by the way there ain't a lick of light comin' through the window. How early, though, I couldn't say fer certain, I ain't fixin' to get up if it's this early. It's a right bad sign, fer sure. Murim might be a-watchin' from somewhere, and I ain't takin' that chance. But then again, it wouldn't hurt none. Gotta mull over the good and bad of it.
I hear some shufflin' out yonder by the door. Reckon that's Paw-Paw. Feller gets up 'fore the roosters crow. That damn bird must've tore him up somethin' fierce if he's stirrin' 'fore the sun even thinks about peekin' over the hills. That there gives me a good shove forward, Wantin' to see what he's got goin' on, I get up oughta bed and start inchin' my way towards the door, quiet-like, so I don't spook him. Last thing I need is ot give Paw-Paw a heart attack. Murim's done 'bout scared him half to death anyway. The shufflin' stops when I get to the door. I ease my hand onto the knob, turnin' it slow and quiet-like. Then I give the door a gentle push, peepin' 'round the edge to see… Cam? What in the sam hillis he doin' up this early? Did he not rest good? Or is he traipsin' 'round in his sleep? I ain;t buyin' that second one the minute I chew on it. Cam don't sleep walk. This is somethin' else entirely. I start creepin' oughta the room, real slow and quiet-like, so's I don't tip Cam off. If Murim's behind what's goin' on here, I sure don't wanna end up in the same fix Cam's in right now. That wouldn't be good at all.
I'm a-watchin' Cam mosey on towards the front door. That ain't lookin' right. I trail behind him, keepin' my steps quiet as a church mouse while he cracks the door open and steps out, cuttin' left and headin' out to the field. I haul ass to close the gap. Ain't tryna let Cam go and get hisself in a mess. I bust out of the house abd see Cam's 'bout at the treeline. I tear off towards him, grab both his arms, and shake the fool.
"Cam. CAM!" I hiss, keepin' it low so I don't wake Paw-Paw, shakin' Cam the whole time to get his head back on straight. His eyes stay shut for a hot second, not even flinchin' at what I'm doin'. But after a few ticks, they pop open and catch this wild look in Cam's eyes 'fore he figures out it's me. He then shoves off me quick 'fore he gets his bearings on where he's at.
"Wha the…" He starts up, then hollers off real quick-like. Then he turns back 'round to me, like I got the answers to everything.
"Well don't you look at me. You're the one who was takin' an early mornin' walk in his sleep." I say, watchin' his face run through a whole mess of feelin's 'fore it finally settles down.
"I was… No. I don't sleep walk." He flat-out says like I ain't seen what I seen.
"You was. Eyes shut tight, headin' straight for that field past the trees." I say, pointin' past the tree line, and I catch some of them stalks shiftin' out there, which just turns my stomach. Don't cotton to that one bit. "C'mon now. We oughtta head back inside." I say, hittin' the steps back toward the front door, Cam's boots thumpin' right behind me as I look at the clock.
Three in the mornin'.
That damn Witching Hour.
"So you was there? In the Grove? And it felt real? Not like no dream even though you knew it was?" I ask Cam, needin' to know more so we can actually do somethin' 'bout this. He reaches for the cup of water and downs the whole thing 'fore he answers.
"Yeah. It was… surreal. So many things that didn't make sense. Weird geometry. This haze filling the sky. Just thinking about it is enough to make my head hurt." He says, gettin' up and fillin' his cup again, sittin' back down while he keeps talkin'. "Damn bird was there. Slammed me against a wall. Felt every last bit of pain. Then he…" Cam kinda fades out while he keeps goin' on 'bout that dream he had. Reckon it didn't end too good. "I don't know what he did to me, honestly. Big ass demon-lookin' form with a giant golden eyeball glaring into me."
"That sounds… plum awful…" I say, not rightly sure how to answer somethin' like that. What in the sam hill do I even say? What do I do? Ain't never had to deal with nothin' like this before. Maybe Paw-Paw could help me out. reckon I oughta ask him when he wakes up. That ain't happenin' just yet, though. I gotta get Cam settled down 'fore we do anythin' else. "Ya got any notion on how we can keep this from happenin' again?" I ask, knowin' full well there ain't much we can do 'round here.
"No clue. I'm just… fuck, man…" Cam goes, clear as day he's tired of bein' pushed around in his own life. Can't fault him for it none.
"Alright, just ease up and breathe for me. We'll conjure somethin' up." I say, grabbin' a cup and fillin' it up with water. I take a good swig, eyein' the road out the window. Was a right fool's errand comin' here last night. But we was plum outta options. I take a deep breath 'fore I turn my attention back to Cam, who's just starin' at the wall. Not sure if he even knows he's got that thousand-yard stare 'til I get his attention. "Cam. What're you thinkin' right now?" I ask, watchin' as he turns his head to me so he can answer.
"Way too much." He answers back, his voice pitched low like he's tryin' to keep it under wraps. Again: Can't say I hold it against him. I'd be lookin' to lay low myself if I was walkin' in his boots. He chugs that cup of water again, gets up, fills 'er back up to the brim, then plops hisslef back down. He takes a big ol' breath, like he's fixin' to say somethin'. But he don' let out a peep. 'Stead, we hear somebody draggin' their feet down the hall, and then Paw-Paw comes outta that hallway and into the kitchen, and his face gets all wide-eyed when he sees us.
"Well, y'all both up bright and early." He's tryin' to crack a joke, but it's plain as day it fell flat as a pancake.
"Couldn't catch no shut-eye." I say for me and Cam, ain't fixin' to get into he nitty-gritty just yet, but I know Paw-Paw ain't swallerin' that for a hot second.
"Can't snooze, huh? Reckon that Crow feller's been pesterin' both of y'all." He says, watchin' Cam let out a heavy sigh, knowin' full why we've gotta has out that dream one mroe time. Somethin' he's tryin' to bury. And somethin' I'm tryin' to bury too. But we ain't got no say in it again.
"Think he's messing with my head." Cam starts, cuttin' his eyes at Paw-Paw, wathcin; his mug while he talks. "Dreamed I was in that damn Grove of his." He wraps up, fixin' to let Paw-Paw or me get a word in 'fore he pipes up again. But neither of us do. Not yet, anyhow. Paw-Paw's clearly chewin' on his words real careful. Then he cuts the quiet.
"Same thang happened to Darrel." He starts runnin' his mouth, lookin' back and forth 'tween me and Cam 'fore he pipes up again. "Month he went missin', Darrel'd wander 'round in his sleep 'fore day break. Always stopped right up yonder by that field. Sometimes I'd catch him when I couldn't sleep, and when I got him woke up he'd start jabberin' 'bout these crazy dreams. Endless wheat fields full of the walkin' dead and skeleton horses." Paw-Paw keeps on talkin', keepin' a sharpeye on Cam to see if any of it's hittin' home. It's plain as day on his face that it is. Ain't lookin' too pretty or settled, neither.
"What do we do then?" Cam then asks, hopin' Paw-Paw's got some answer fer him.
"What makes ya think I could answer that?" He stars, takin' a sip of water 'fore he picks the thought back up. "I've had some fifty-odd years to come up with somethin'. And ain't one of them ideas worked." He wraps up, watchin' Cam set his jaw, clearly studyin' on his next words 'fore he lets them out.
'There's gotta be something." He then goes, lookin' Paw-Paw dead in the eyes whilst he talks.
"I'd'a told you yestiddy if they was." Paw-Paw shoots back, givin' a quick peek out the winder 'fore he turns back to me and Cam. "Far as I know, there ain't know way to keep that Crow from gettin' into your head whilst you're asleep."
That's when Cam gits up and heads back to the livin' room, floppin' down on the sofa to ctach whatever shuteye he still can. Paw-Paw shuffles back to his room, and I'm just standin' there, water in my hand, lookin' back out one more time. I swan, there's somethin' rustlin' them stalks in the field yonder past the trees. Just thinkin' 'bout it makes me sick. Best get back to sleep. If I can, anyhow.