The Forgotten Eden Page 4

  Peter’s eyes danced, intently studying Jack’s reaction to this last statement, as if fully expecting some important revelation to come forth. When it didn’t, he looked away and shook his head, frustrated.

  “Goddamn it, Jack! What’s it going to fucking take??” he implored, wearily. “You’ve got to help me out here! I mean, you’ve got strange reptilian footprints in Carlsdale, Alabama. Then, there are smaller, but nearly identical ones found near Jackson, Mississippi…. You’ve got a strange golden mist outside your home in Carlsdale, that your next-door neighbors, the Palmers, confirmed they witnessed. Then another one is witnessed by Bobby Northrop’s sister and uncle just three months later.”

  Jack silently met Peter’s expectant gaze head-on, unwilling to concede anything just yet.

  “All right ...that’s fine,” Peter acknowledged, nodding as if he just read his thoughts. “Let’s move forward, then. Apparently it’s not enough that I’ve humiliated myself before you and my colleagues. Or, is it?”

  Jack remained stoic. He needed more time to absorb this story before responding.

  “Very well. Follow me deeper into my personal hell.” The agent sighed, forcing a pained smile that almost broke Jack’s steadfast refusal to validate the account.

  “I’ll bet you’re wondering why this means so much to me...right? Did you know Eileen Northrop told her husband, Robert, that she felt like they were being watched by an unseen presence located somewhere in the woods, which started soon after they moved into the house?”

  Jack raised an eyebrow at hearing this. Encouraged, Peter continued.

  “Did you ever see a photograph of this amazingly beautiful woman, Jack?” he asked. “Here, check this one out...taken the day before Bobby’s disappearance.”

  Peter pulled out several photographs from the inside breast pocket of his jacket. He placed one of the pictures directly in front of Jack on the table, who recognized the image of the woman standing in the middle of the photograph. The last time he saw this person’s likeness was on a tabloid cover years ago. Over time he forgot the names involved, but always knew the Northrop’s tragedy was connected to his own.

  “I thought so,” Peter whispered, after seeing Jack’s subtle nod.

  His tone completely void of any triumph, he stood up and brushed his suit off. He moved back to his side of the table. Jack’s blurry eyes followed him.

  “Eileen never recovered,” he resumed, his voice hollow and barely audible. “She died the very next spring, leaving her grief stricken husband to care for their only remaining child. Shortly after that, in June, Eileen’s mother passed away suddenly from a stroke. The doctors told her husband and Eileen’s younger brother, who had just turned nineteen and was finishing his first semester at Lehigh University, that her health was likely impaired by the stress and sorrow she’d endured over the previous eight months.”

  Jack sniffed and Peter abruptly stopped. The younger man’s façade was crumbling.

  “This only gets worse, my friend,” said Peter. “Remember I told you we share the same hell? I’m quite serious about that.”

  He slipped back into his chair, his shoulders trembling as if he might start bawling again at any moment.

  “You see...Eileen Northrop was my sister. I was the nineteen-year old uncle at Bobby’s birthday celebration, and the only one to watch him disappear into that goddamned mist!! I’m still the one who routinely checks up on my niece to make sure she doesn’t take her life when she enters one of her many deep depressions. And it’s up to me to make sure her grandpa, my dad, the former FBI agent Merten McNamee, doesn’t do the same thing by swallowing the barrel of his service revolver!”

  Peter buried his face in his hands, the burden of sorrow far too big for him to carry any further. He broke down and sobbed, seemingly oblivious to how he looked to anyone, either inside or outside the room. He could’ve remained like this for quite a while, but a pair of strong hands grasped his shoulders from behind.

  “Agent McNamee,” said Jack, just inches above him. “I’ll tell you what you want to know. I’ll tell you everything.”

  PART II

  The Lizard and the Sphere

  “Are you ready?” asked Peter, his eager tone almost adolescent. Since cleaning himself up in the tiny restroom at the end of the interrogation room, he seemed refreshed. Only the red rims around his piercing blue eyes suggested he recently wept.

  While waiting for him to return to the table, Jack paced around the room. To any casual observer he might’ve appeared calm, perhaps even bored. Silently, he debated if doing the right thing or not. When Peter was set to resume their interview, Jack grabbed another Coke from the tiny refrigerator and joined him at the table.

  “Jeremy’s going to kill me for sure once he finds out about this,” said Jack. “But, we get to check out those books you’ve got for as long as we like. Right?”

  “Absolutely,” said Peter, turning on his recorder once more. “Don’t worry about your brother, Jack. I’ll talk with him just as soon as we’re done. All I ask is that you be thorough...very thorough. I want to know every detail, including what you might view as unimportant—like your feelings, thoughts, and even your physical surroundings. Describe everything you can for me.”

  “I guess I can do that,” said Jack, surprised at the level of detail the agent wanted from him. “Some shit’s pretty personal, though.”

  “I do mean everything, Jack.”

  “Okay,” he agreed, and leaned forward in his chair. Peter did the same, and then Jack began his story. “It was just four days after my thirteenth birthday. My grandfather and I’d just finished lunch, and I noticed this weird-looking lizard resting on the back porch when I glanced out the kitchen window. I’d never seen it before, or anything like it.

  “I mentioned it to Grandpa, but he kept reading his newspaper at the kitchen table. Hell, he only half acknowledged what I said until I told him it looked sort of exotic. At that point, he almost got up to take a look. But the phone rang and he answered it instead. I kept watching the lizard through the window, hoping it didn’t move from its perch near the steps leading down into the backyard. It sat there motionless, except for an occasional head-twitch and flicking its forked tongue.

  “As soon as Grandpa was done talking on the phone, I told him it still sat on the porch.

  “‘Son, you’d be better off just leaving that thing alone, I’m warning you,’ he said. ‘It could be poisonous for all we know. I wish folks kept better track of their damned pets around here!’

  “‘It’s okay, Grandpa,’ I assured him. ‘I doubt very seriously it’ll bite. Besides, even if it does, I bet it wouldn’t hurt much.’

  “He frowned, and I remember he stared thoughtfully into his coffee mug, absently stirring its contents at the table while he considered what I said. He might’ve remained lost in his thoughts if not for the sudden creak and slam of the screened door leading out to the back porch. Before he could tell me to stay away from the critter, I was already outside. Peering back through the screen, I caught him smiling a little. He advised me again to be careful.

  “I remember it was really hot that day. With the temperature near a hundred degrees, only the most desperate and foolhardy folks were outdoors right then—like me, I guess. But I just had to get a closer look at the lizard. It remained in the same spot while I moved over to it, eyeing me warily from atop the steps. It seemed kind of vulnerable, though powerful muscles flexed beneath its green leathery skin, especially along its lower legs, as if ready to bolt back down the steps at any moment. The lizard’s back arched high in a multi-colored fan that ran along its spine, and brilliant hues of purple, red, and orange converged down its sides.

  “Its most unusual feature was a crown of golden spikes and curved horns on its head—”

  “Like a miniature version of the enormous dragon you later encountered?” interrupted Peter, a wry grin on his face. “And, you never had seen anything like it before, I take it?”

&
nbsp; “Yeah, that’s correct,” said Jack, wondering if every strange detail he revealed would engender the same immediate scrutiny. “If not for the bright colors and its unusual crown, the critter could’ve passed for someone’s wayward pet. I’d seen some similar sized lizards on display at Pet World up in Tuscaloosa. But the closest thing I’d ever seen to this one was in a picture of a Burmese temple mural, inside one of Grandpa’s National Geographic magazines.”

  “That’s quite interesting,” said Peter, his tone impressed. He clicked his pen open while paging through his journal.

  “The lizard cocked its head warily to one side as it studied me, standing just a few feet away,” continued Jack, watching the agent jot down several notes. “Its blue and gray eyes, incandescent, shifted slowly back and forth. I took another step and leaned down toward it, closing the gap between us to a mere foot. Suddenly, it stood up on its hind legs and took a swipe at me with its front claws. I barely escaped the attack, which scared the be-Jesus out of me and made me stumble backward and land hard on my ass.

  Peter looked up, closing his pen while the smile faded into a more serious look.

  “The little shithead hissed loudly and flashed a mouth full of sharp needle-like teeth at me.” A slight surge of smug satisfaction flowed through Jack. He had the agent’s full attention again. “I scooted away as quickly as I could while it took a menacing step forward. But then it stopped and retracted its leg, turning its attention toward the backyard as if heeding some inaudible command to call off the attack. With a low grunt, it turned on its hind legs and raced down the porch steps.

  “Grandpa called to me from the kitchen, asking if I was all right. He moved over to the back door and peered at me through the screen. For the moment I laid sprawled out on the back porch.

  “‘Yeah, I’m fine,’ I told him, sitting up. ‘That lizard’s long gone now.’

  “I tried to sell him with a broad smile, but he eyed me serious, as if trying to decide for his own self what’d truly happened. When he stepped back from the doorway, he told me again not to linger outside in the heat.

  “I intended to stay outside for just a little while; it just depended on where the lizard ran off to. I waited until Grandpa’s footfalls and the switching on of another floor fan confirmed he’d turned his attention to other tasks inside our old farmhouse. Really, it would’ve been nice if he’d just use the air conditioner more often. Aside from the house staying cooler, the kitchen storm door would’ve been closed and he wouldn’t have known about the recent commotion on the porch. I now had to be very discreet in my pursuit of the lizard, since he’d likely keep an eye on me.

  “I stood up and quietly rummaged around the porch searching for something suitable to apprehend the critter. I found a large steel bait bucket with a retractable lid and carried it over to the porch steps ….

  “Too much detail for you so far, Agent McNamee?”

  “No,” Peter replied, and gave an approving nod. “It’s working fine like this.”

  He motioned for Jack to continue.

  “Well, okay, then,” said Jack, smiling wanly. “Grandpa let the backyard deteriorate over the years. Stuff like worn-out appliances and the rusted-out remains of an old pickup truck cluttered it up. It all really seemed out of place if you considered the full mimosa trees dotting the yard and the majestic oak that sat in the middle of everything. Then again, maybe it wasn’t quite so out of place compared to an enormous stone sphere resting near the back wall of the property.”

  “I’ve got a bunch of pictures of that thing, Jack,” said Peter. “They’re also in my attaché case, along with a report detailing the sphere’s composition.”

  “Can I see that too?”

  “Just as soon as you’re done with your story, Jack. Again, I appreciate the descriptive element so far.”

  “I’ll try to continue that way,” said Jack, finding it difficult to stay focused in light of the latest tidbit. “It’s all so strange, man. Even though it happened years ago, as I’m telling it to you it’s as if it all took place just yesterday.

  “When I was younger, I imagined the entire backyard as some bizarre work of art. It embarrassed me when I got older, especially since Grandpa wouldn’t let us clean it up for him. But it sure as hell made a great hiding place if you were a three-foot long lizard wishing to be left alone. It could be anywhere with so many nooks and crannies. With that in mind, I braced myself for the oppressive afternoon heat and stepped out into the yard.

  “I scanned the walls, roofs, and gables of our farmhouse, shielding my eyes from the sun’s brightness. I couldn’t detect the lizard’s presence anywhere. No small footprints or claw marks on the light-blue painted walls and gables, and nothing on the freshly painted chalices either.

  “While looking up at the roof, I thought about how the lizard behaved on the porch when I first saw it. It seemed to enjoy being out of the burning sun. So, I figured it might prefer some place cool, like under the porch. I walked over to the wooden lattice beneath it and peered through the holes. A great place to hide from the sun and an abundance of spiders and insects to feed on, but the lattice was still intact, without any sign it’d been disturbed.

  “By then my shorts and T-shirt were pretty damp from sweat. Shielding my eyes, I moved over to the pickup’s sun-baked remains, knowing I didn’t have long before I became totally drenched. The grass and weeds grew tall around the faded red truck body, which sat on the very same cinder blocks it was condemned to many years before. All four tires had long since been removed and most of the frame devoured by rust. The windshield had been broken by an errant fly ball off my brother’s bat during a neighborhood baseball game two summers earlier, and most of the glass still lay in shards on the torn vinyl seat.

  “I got down on my knees to get a good view of the pickup’s undercarriage. The overgrown weeds and grass that engulfed the bottom of the truck were almost impossible to see through. I considered sticking my hands underneath, but then remembered the lizard’s mouth, full of sharp teeth.

  “I decided to eliminate other possible hiding places first, so peered through the driver-side window. No lizard there—just undisturbed dirt and cobwebs inside the cab. And the critter definitely wasn’t hiding up in the nearby mimosa trees either. Just a handful of swallowtail butterflies coupling near bloom clusters on the tree’s upper branches.

  “With sweat pouring down my face, I gave up looking for it. I started walking over to the tire-swing that hung from our giant oak. That’s when a noticeable ‘clank’ and rustling sound come from the pile of broken appliances sitting nearby. My heart began to race. I suddenly felt chilled and a little bit clammy, listening to whatever it was rummaging ferociously inside an old washer.

  “I cautiously moved up to it, worried the bait container wouldn’t be enough to protect me. I noticed a deflated soccer ball a short distance to my left, and quietly hurried over to it. Armed with two laughable weapons, I moved up to the old machine.

  “The disturbance grew even more violent. Expecting to see the lizard in a highly agitated rage, I prepared myself for the worst. When I reached the washer, its weathered door sat slightly ajar. I leaned over to throw the door open…the startled animal barreled out, revealing dark frightened eyes as it headed straight for me.

  “For the second time that afternoon I fell hard on my ass. Luckily, it was just Banjo.”

  “I’ll bet that came as a relief!” said Peter, chuckling as he relaxed in his chair. He had just picked up his coffee cup to take another sip.

  “Yeah it did,” Jack agreed, smiling wanly as he reminisced. “Honestly, I thought he’d bite me, his teeth bared as meanly as any farm critter could, I suppose. As soon as Banjo recognized me, he tentatively approached and started licking me on my arms and legs.

  “I remember asking him if he’d seen any three-foot lizards lately, though I’m sure he had absolutely no idea what I was talking about. Knowing Banjo’s tendency toward skittishness, he’d have been more than conten
t to remain inside the washer if he had.

  “Maybe you already know this, but Banjo’s fur was black with brown splotches on his back and sides. At that moment all of it glistened from the heat. He whimpered again and looked up into my face, as if pleading for me to lead us both out of the sweltering sauna we presently stood in. So I led him over to the oak’s shade, giving up on my search for that goddamned lizard.

  “I don’t know if you’ve ever seen any pictures of it, Agent McNamee, but our oak tree was truly something. Grandpa once told me it’d been there long before the farmhouse was built, and that’d been roughly a hundred and seventy years before, as I’m sure you already know. The tree’s long branches rose to dizzying heights, and if anyone stood directly below while leaning their head back as far as they could without falling over, the upward view would momentarily take their breath away.”

  “I’ve seen photographs of the oak, too, and a few of those were taken when it wasn’t much more than a sapling long ago,” said Peter. “I never saw a picture of Banjo…just some notes and a brief description from Sherriff McCracken.”

  “I don’t suppose you brought the oak pictures with you?”

  “Actually, I did bring a couple with me this evening, along with some other pictures you should find interesting. They’ll be waiting for you when we’re done.”

  “I’ll look forward to that,” said Jack, pausing a moment before continuing his story. “As I mentioned, Banjo and I walked together into the cool shade provided by the oak’s thick foliage. He trotted over to a half-empty water bowl near the oak’s trunk, where a thirty-foot ladder nailed to the trunk led to a wooden tree house nestled within a large cluster of branches. A tire swing hung from a really thick branch beneath the tree house. I climbed onto the swing after setting the deflated soccer ball and bait container nearby.