The Pale Man Rises

CHAPTER TWO

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The thunder echoed once again. Vernon had on his foul weather gear by now. It was a gray rubber raincoat with a hood. He decided to have a look beyond the window once again to see how badly the storm was progressing. Again lightning sparked the darkness outside. In the distance he could see the ominous silhouette of the giant oak tree that stood in his pasture. It stood like a behemoth, like a Goliath awaiting the arrival of his David to come and confront him in combat. It had stood in this spot longer than anyone could remember. The circumference of the thing was at least forty feet. Its limbs jutted out like a broad scarred arms reaching for the heavens. Its leaves were still thick and lush though now they were the reddish orange hue that is the dominant color of the fall season. Those leaves that had surrendered to gravity made for a colorful adornment around the base of the tree. Acorns dotted the ground round about beneath the massive tree providing a meal or larder for the numerous squirrels that nested within its leaves or ventured to it from the woods that lay beyond the pasture.

There was a mystery about the tree also. A strange word was carved into its bark. No one knew who had produced the graffiti, it had always been there at eye level dug deeply into the bark by some powerful tool.

The previous owner of the property could not explain it except to say that some thought it was an Indian word that had been translated into English since the predominant tribes that were about had never had a written language except for the few Cherokee sects near about.

But the word had been there long before any Cherokee had ever settled in this part of North Carolina. Several years before it was sold to Vernon a researcher from nearby Bentbrook State College, a professor who was an anthropologist who specialized in Native American cultures and was himself a genuine Indian sort of confirmed it was an Indian word. This researcher a Professor Carlton Chavis concluded that some white settlers who were somehow privy to some 

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Indian legend had put it there for some unknown reason. He had concluded it was either some directive or a warning perhaps, but he was uncertain until he could do further research and at the time of his seeing it all he wished to do was take a photograph of it for a picture book he was working on. He did tell the owner that if he discovered anything new after further research he would share it with him by mail, but he'd never received anything from the academic and decided he had either failed to uncover any new information or was simply someone who made empty promises. Or perhaps the problem lay with the postal service?

It appeared to be French to many, yet everyone knowledgeable of the region were well aware that the French had never had any permanent settlements in North Carolina nor had they made any serious effort to encroach on the English settlements that were located there save but for a few privateers in service to the French or Spanish Crown. Sometimes one or the other's vessel would sail into one of the various sounds on the coast and venture forth to attack any settlements they deemed were not adequately defended. But these attacks were few and far apart and on the whole disastrous affairs. So the word remained a mystery to all who looked upon it much like the word "CROATOAN" that was similarly discovered carved into a tree on one of the smaller islands that was nearby Roanoke Island after the settlement there had disappeared into history as "THE LOST COLONY".

Vernon had often considered having the giant cut down because of such things as this storm that now swirled about. Sometimes when it rained his cows wanted to congregate beneath its cover to shield themselves from the deluge and this was quite dangerous making them targets for the lightning should it be part of the equation. But these types of storms were somewhat rare and he and Maddy loved the sight of the giant oak tree, loved its sheer beauty as it stood there alone in the pasture a permanent and unending enigma with the word "MANTAQUE" labeling it.

Donning his green John Deere baseball cap Vernon tiptoed from the master bedroom. The hallway light was still working and he was grateful that the storm had not knocked out the power to the house. He made his way down the hall to his son's room and was surprised to see 

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that he was up also and was himself peering through the window in the direction of the giant oak tree.

Vernon flicked on the overhead light. "You up already?" he asked his son from the open door. Clay was deep in thought considering this bitter night. He had been terrified that he would receive Luther's phone call while deep in conversation with his parents telling them of his life the past four years, explaining his fresh scars to his upset mother. They were the result of a mugging he had told her. He'd been worrying about it the whole of the day. He knew it would be coming in, but not when.

His parents had not long retired when the telephone at last shrilled in the night. He was very grateful that they did not have an extension in their bedroom. He had lingered downstairs on the pretense of watching a little tv and perhaps getting himself a snack. He had anticipated this moment all night, would it ever come in? He knew the thug Luther would be about and contacting him. Now that his parents were in bed he was glad it had not come in sooner.

He didn't want them to hear him engaging in conversation with Luther. It would be an awkward conversation to say the least. And so he was anxious for it to come in and at the same time fearful that when it did it would disturb them. He knew it would pique their curiosity should they recognize that he was talking with someone who seemingly knew him and also knew that he was home. He couldn't tell them it was a local person for they would soon know that that was not the truth. He decided he would tell them it was an acquaintance from California just checking to see if he had made it home safely should they inquire.

Another obstacle that faced him was checking to see if his father's safe was still in the den. There was also the need to find the combination to it and learn, if at all possible without arousing any suspicion, if it still held all the money that he knew his father had saved over the years.

Once the call finally came in he picked it up immediately. Recognizing that it was the voice of a younger man Luther asked. "You know who this is kid?"

"Yeah." Clay whispered. "You got the money?" Luther now asked.

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"Not yet–I couldn't go getting it now, not with my folks hovering over me treatin' me like the Prince of Wales." Clay explained. There was a long pause on the other end of the line.

"I guess not–listen I'll give you 'til noon tomorrow to get it to me. I'm staying in room 15B at the Roadside Motel on I-85–you know where that is?" Luther then asked.

"Yeah." "Good–remember kid noon–no later. I don't want to have to go out that way and pay you and your folks a visit, but if you don't show up I'll sure do it, maybe not tomorrow, next week, or next month, but you can best bet it'll be when you least expect it." he said with a menacing laugh."Yeah sure noon tomorrow 15B I got it." Clay said nervously and hung up the telephone. 

Fortunately for him neither of his parents heard the phone ring and he had concluded it as quickly as he could.

It was growing late now and he could hear the distant rumble of thunder as if a storm was beginning. He looked at the clock and could see that it was growing late. He would have to do it in the morning. Perhaps he could somehow manage to get his parents to leave him alone in the house for awhile and thus he would get it then. He had a general idea where his father kept the combination and felt sure he'd be able to pull it off tomorrow. But then he was forced to wonder if the money was still in the safe. He hadn't really seriously considered this until now. His mom had always been after his old man to take the money to the bank. What would he do if she had at last succeeded in this? He cursed himself once more for getting himself in this jam, what a fool he had been, what a bloody fool he was. Completely exhausted he finally hauled himself up to his bed.