Chapter 28 – No More Weekend T.V. Wrestling!
As
unsettling as the invisible presence was, I would also add that it was both
disturbing and exhilarating. It danced on my skin. It was then that I beheld a
strange sight that I had only seen one other time. Clusters of faint glowing
lights. Small pea-sized spheres moved around the damaged drainpipe and along
the rain cutters of the Happy Meadows main building. They danced like playful electric
bumble bees moving from one metal object to another. They swarmed Mrs. Cox’s car,
much to Fenton’s dismay.
“Rico.”
I shoved him in the shoulder hard. My friend was frozen with fear. He crossed
himself.
“Jax,
I need to wake up my uncle Jerry. This is bad! So bad!” He lumbered towards the
hearse were Jerry Gonzales lay in a drunken stupor. Rico’s feet were sluggish.
He was in some sort of psychological shock. It was obvious that he could see
something that I could not and his eyes betrayed the spot where the presence was
the strongest.
What
I believed that I was seeing was a rare natural phenomenon my father had called
“ball lightning”. Several years ago, my dad and I were on a ferry traveling up
the coast of Lake Michigan. There was a storm on the horizon. The same lights had
swarmed the upper part of the ferry and some of the parked cars the craft was
transporting.
My
dad had said this was a rare manifestation of static electricity that happens
near bodies of water. The ball lightning lingered for several seconds and then
disappeared, only to reappear in a different spot. He allowed me to watch for a
minute or so before he took me down to a lower deck and we sat in the safety of
our car. Dad had told me that the display was called “Saint Elmo’s Fire” by
some sailors and many people were superstitious about the very appearance of
it. Many believed that such luminous objects are omens or even the very souls
of the dead.
I
ran over to Rico. He was opening the door at the rear of the hearse. There was no
casket at the back, as this wasn’t a funeral. The door was one solid structure
that, when opened, allowed maximum clearance for a coffin-sized object. In this
case, the only object in the back was a groggy Jerry Gonzales.
As
I approached the hearse that Jerry was sleeping in, I shouted. “Is he awake?”
I
looked through the large window of what was essentially a large, black stretch
limo with a modified interior, I saw Jerry in the back wrapped in a blanket. Rico
was shaking him, trying to arouse him. But it seemed to no avail. Then Rico became
desperate.
He
slapped Jerry in the face lightly. “Wake up…Oye, despierta…you stupid, drunken…”
Then suddenly Jerry’s eyes suddenly
opened very wide. They nearly bulged out of his skull. He leaned up and slapped
Rico back so hard I thought his head was going to smack the side of the hearse.
“Cut
it out Jerry. I’m a lot bigger than you. Don’t make me mad.” Rico screamed
while holding the side of his numb jaw.
“You
slapped me! I’m gonna’ mop up the floor with your head.” Jerry yelled as he
jumped on Rico. A ridiculous slap fight ensued in the confined area of the
hearse.
“Good
luck trying to clean in the corners, dumbass.” Rico said through clenched teeth
as he shoved Jerry out of the hearse, leaping after him.
Fenton,
ignoring the odd “ball lightning” that had now intensified, had come over to
stare through the window of he now rocking vehicle.
I
heard Jerry alternately laughing and swearing first in English and then in Portuguese
and Spanish. Rico slammed Jerry so hard against the interior of the hearse that
it almost broke Fenton’s nose that was pressed against one of the rear viewing
windows of the hearse. I screamed for assistance from anyone inside Happy
Meadows. No one seemed to be listening.
Rico’s
leaped from the back of the hearse and missed Jerry by several feet. Instead of
landing on his uncle, Rico did a barrel roll in the dirt and gravel in front of
Happy Meadows. Jerry stood up, staggering a great deal. Then he screamed “Atomic
knee drop”. Before he could execute the professional wrestling move, which
doubtless would have resulted in a trip to the ER for at least one of them, Sal
came by. Noticing Rico was now laying on his back, Sal calmly walked over with
his semiautomatic drawn and put his foot on Rico’s throat. He then fired a
round between Jerry’s legs.
Both
men gave up, stopped fighting and stared at Sal. He put his gun away and helped
Rico off the ground.
Rico
was a mess. His hair was disheveled. His jeans were covered in dirt. Jerry
walked over breathing hard. He was filthy and smelled like tequila.
Sal
looked at me and then at Fenton. He pointed at Jerry and Rico. “Never pick a
fight with an ugly person. They’ve got nothing to lose.” He warned. He then put
his weapon back into his shoulder holster.
“We’ve
got company.” Sal said as he gestured towards the glowing orbs.
“Jerry,
I’m sorry I slapped you, but I was just trying to wake you up. Mira…Look!” Rico
pointed at the ball lightning.
The
static electricity popped and swirled near the zone where we first sensed the presence
of what Rico believed were dead spirits of residents that usually occupied a
local graveyard adjacent to Jerry’s home and property. Jerry dusted himself off
and glanced at the scene.
The
“ball lightning” had grown now. The orbs were about two feet in diameter. One
of them burst. The flash revealed dozens of the local dead. They stood in
various forms of decomposition, all completely naked as the day they were born.
The flash lasted for only a second, yet I was able to make out the figure of
James Cody standing at the head of the crowd. A fresh bullet hole in his
forehead.
Rico,
who described himself as a “lapsed Catholic”, crossed himself again and turned
to Jerry. “Why did you feel the need to bring them with you?” Rico whispered.
“I
don’t remember doing it. I fell asleep watching wrestling on television, woke
up and read your note. I must have done the ritual to raise the dead and then blacked
out. I guess I thought you might be in trouble and they could be useful.” Jerry
whispered back.
“No
more weekend T.V. wrestling. Next Saturday night we are going to the movies.”
Rico declared.
“It’s
a deal.” Jerry studied the now numerous swirling orbs.”
“What
has got them all wound up?” Rico asked.
“Local
acts of violence always make the pot boil like this.” Jerry answered. “Usually
not this bad. But it is close to October and the veil between the living and
the dead grows thinner during this time of year.”
“It’s
bugging me a lot. Can’t you put them back in the ground?” Rico complained.
“I’m
afraid I’m in no shape to do that right now. They will return to where they
belong at dawn. Right now, we just have to tolerate them.”
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