The Gringo Caper

By Frank E. Richards

Mystery has fallen upon this small
quiet community west of the great
city of Pittsburgh. A few young boys
are challenged to unlock the secret message that
has been thrust upon them. Is the supernatural
at work here or could it be something more
horrible than mankind can imagine. Mystery and
adventure confront these young boys head on.
Will they fall victim to the pressure of solving this
mystery or will the unknown prevail.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Nov 19, 2012
• ISBN: 9781479746552

Frank E. Richards

Frank Richards is a retired IT professional. This is his first novel and is based on his childhood experiences and imagination. He lives in Newfoundland with his wife and constant companion, their dog Champ.

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Copyright © 2012 by Frank E. Richards.

Library of Congress Control Number:       2012920954

ISBN:         Hardcover                               978-1-4797-4654-5

                   Softcover                                 978-1-4797-4653-8

                   Ebook                                      978-1-4797-4655-2

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

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Contents

Introduction

Grace Lane

First Day

Fright Night

Screams

Footprints

Puzzle Piece

Puzzled Once Again

School Time

Todd Avenue

The Barn

Kane Road

Mystery Man

Deja Vu

The Mystery Cave

New Kids

Chilly Billy Night

Spilling the Beans

Baden Bonanza

Baden

Photo Day

Decision Time

Piece Three

Reflection

Class Time

Just Being Kids

Barn Ghost

Cave Symbols

Spelunking

Puzzled Again

The UFO Link?

Spelunking Two

Revelation

Barn Visit

Fireworks

Red Eye

Piece Five

Missing One

The Ghostly Barn

Nightmare

Needle in a Haystack

Tacky

Celebration

Tack Room Surprise

Rainout

Green Glow

Green Search

Seven

Coming Together

Crop Circle

Halloween

Bull’s-Eye

Where Next?

Mothman

Braille

Final Pieces?

2020

Introduction

There we were, standing on the edge of the small slow-moving, partially frozen stream. Looking very perplexed as we glanced over our shoulders, we saw the ghostly footprints that we had followed for hours. Standing there in the cold and windy weather, wondering where and how the footprints on the opposite of the stream were also coming to this same intersection deep in the woods of this small community. Has someone played a practical joke on us, or was there more to this then we could have ever imagined? I never told Ted, my closest friend who had helped me track these strange footprints to this location, that this mystery had really started years before I had met him, or that I had seen these same footprints before as a small kid growing up. It was time to inform Ted what and why I was following these footprints.

Grace Lane

It all started when I was only a small child of six. My parents had just rented an old farmhouse while Dad was having a new house built in the Gringo section of Hopewell Twp. This two-story farmhouse was located at 100 Grace Lane. Our one neighbor were a very nice couple. The lady would eventually become my fifth-grade teacher at the local elementary school that I would attend after moving from this home. Grace Lane, a single-car-width, dead end dirt street contained only two other homes. An ageing Mrs. Schmidt, who owned the house closest to us, was a widowed lady with a couple of sons who helped her run her small farm. She had many acres for her cattle and horses. The last house was owned by the French family. They had a son about my age, and the missus was due to have another baby rather soon. They also had a small farm with chickens and many other farm critters.

We moved into this house during the summer of 1958. Mom and Dad wanted us to get into a place before school started back up in the fall. Behind the house, standing on the very top of the hill, was the Veasley Cemetery. As kids, we would always walk through there to look at the gravestones and enjoy the view. Standing up there, you could see the entire valley, the two farms located on our lane, and the thick woods that surrounded the whole area. The graveyard was surrounded by a three—to four-foot fairly rusted metal fence, except where the front gate was. There, the gate was a large six—to eight-foot black iron gate with large block pillars to help secure the gate. As kids, we always thought it kind of weird to fence in the dead; it’s not like they were trying to get out, but maybe it was more for trying to keep people from coming in. I have always heard stories of grave robbers, but who would think that something like that could happen in our little corner of the world?

The house itself was, as I said before, a two-story old farmhouse that badly needed a coat of paint and had a one-car detached garage. The lower level of the house contained the master bedroom right off the kitchen, a large dining room, and living room with fireplace. The upstairs contained two bedrooms and a full bathroom. The third floor contained the attic that had always been locked, and we didn’t have the key for that door. The first floor had a front door, which opened to a large covered front porch. The backdoor was located in the kitchen and opened to the west side of the house. The kitchen also contained the door that went into the basement of the house. The basement contained the furnace and a room for the old coal bin. For young kids, this basement was always the scariest room for us to enter, so going down there was not something we looked forward to doing. The property had many fruit trees, and since fall was coming, we spent a lot of time outdoors playing and helping our parents pick the apples and pears.

First Day

School started early September, and being in my first year, I was very excited to be going to school. My first day went fairly uneventful for a first grader. Listening and doing what the teacher said was common for all first-time students. This was all new to us, and riding the school bus to and from school was also a new adventure. I remember the day ending, and all of us being herded outside to the waiting buses for our normal ride home. But little did I know that this ride would be the most memorable ride of my life. Here, I was riding the bus to what I thought would be a simple ride to my house. As the bus stopped many times along the way, children and classmates exited the bus for their homes. The bus stopped at what I determined to be its last stop because the last few of the kids got off the bus, and the driver announced this was the last stop and that everyone was to exit.

I got up and proceeded to get off the bus. I realized at that point that I had gotten on the wrong bus and was miles from my home. Even at this young age, I had the sense and knowledge as to which direction I lived in from where I had departed the school bus. I was determined to not let this little setback stop me from getting home, so I started to walk the few miles home. I stayed on the correct side of the highway and just set out to walk. Words from my parents and my teacher to not take rides from strange people came in handy and stuck in my brain. I marched my way down the road toward my home. A few people stopped and asked if I was OK and if I needed a ride. I said, No, I am fine. I just live up the road a bit.

The walk seemed to take an eternity for me and my short legs, but I managed to walk home—maybe about an hour behind my scheduled arrival at home from school. My parents were very upset and said that I should have called them instead of walking. Oh well, so much for the first day of school. I believe the next day, I made sure I was on the correct bus.

Fright Night

Summer finally ended, and we proceeded into fall. Things were normal around the home—chores to do, fruit to pick, and just overall fun for someone my age. Days became shorter as we approached Halloween, and that’s when things started to happen.

Dad! came the scream from Denise and Norma as they peered out the second-floor window toward the hilltop cemetery. Dad came running up the stairs from his first-floor bedroom with Mom in tow. The three of us boys, barely awake, stumbled out of our room as Dad flew past our doorway. He flung open the door to the girls’ room.

What’s going on? blasted Dad.

The girls were visibly shaken. There, out there. Denise pointed out the window.

Someone… a man was peeking at us, announced Norma.

Are you sure? said Dad as he hurried to the window to peer outside into the darkness. The night was pitch-black; there was no moon, only the shadows of the gravestones in the background.

Well, I don’t see anything, barked Dad.

He was there, the girls announced.

How do you know? What did you see? said Dad.

The light from a cigarette. A man… just standing there, said Denise.

Dad hurried toward the stairs, and Mom stayed behind to comfort the girls. Dad grabbed Harry, and the two of them proceeded into the backyard through the backdoor located in the kitchen.

Harry, you see anything? Dad said as he hurried toward the cemetery.

No, Dad, nothing, announced Harry.

The two of them scurried around the yard, looking for the mystery person who had scared my sisters to death. Who was this person? What did they want? Was it a jealous boyfriend? Or was it something more, the questions just popped through my head. My brother Rick and I huddled in the hallway, listening to my sisters and hearing Dad’s and Harry’s voices, though muffled, coming from outside. After what seemed like an eternity, Dad and Harry returned into the house and came upstairs.

Get back to bed, all the commotion is over, Dad said seeming to be out of breath.

We hustled into our room and jumped into bed and right under the covers. Feeling scared and still listening, I knew that this was a serious matter.

Any idea who that could have been outside? Dad said, questioning the girls.

No, no idea, only saw a figure standing and peering into our window, Denise answered in her shaken voice. I could hear Mom trying to calm down the girls. This is the first time anything like this had happened to our family as far as I knew, but again I am only six.

Well, cover these windows with some sheets or heavy blankets so no one can see in. These drapes aren’t thick enough. I could see right in from outside, said Dad.

OK, Nick. The girls are scared enough. Go back to bed. I’ll handle helping them put up the coverings over the windows, answered Mom.

I heard Dad and Harry walking out of the room; the floor boards gave that creaking sound when one walked over them. Harry popped back into his bed, which was also in our room. Dad proceeded down the steps toward his and Mom’s room, slamming the door behind him as he returned to bed.

Mom, who could that have been? questioned Norma.

I don’t know, honey. But whoever it was, I hope they don’t return, said Mom.

But what if he does? What if he tries getting into our room? queried Denise.

Look, your brothers are across the hall, and Dad is downstairs. We’re all here. Just scream if you hear anything. Mom talked in her calming voice.

After a few minutes, I could hear Mom leave the room and return to her bedroom with Dad. It was hard for me to fall back asleep. I could only think about the shadowy figure standing in our yard. Who was he? What did he want with our family? Where did he disappear too? The graveyard. Wow! What a thought. Maybe someone was returning from the dead. All kinds of thoughts were going through this six-year-old’s mind. It didn’t help that Halloween was only a week away. Was this some kind of Halloween prank pulled off by some of their friends? Who knows? Maybe the light of day will bring forth more information.

I’ll get my brother Rick. Maybe he and I can canvas the yard for clues, just like Sherlock Holmes. I could feel my eyelids getting heavy; drifting off to sleep was welcome.

Boy, is it cold out here, I thought to myself. Where am I? What am I doing here? Then it hit me. I was sitting outside on the sloping roof just outside my sister’s bedroom. It’s the middle of the night. The full moon was just starting to rise in the east. It was looking larger than I have ever seen it. The chills were flowing all through my body as I sat there. The night was quiet—no wind blowing through the leaves to make the rustle, no dogs barking, too eerie for a normal night. Then I heard my sisters talking in their room. Normal girl talk. The light was on in their room because I could see the light shining out onto the roof. I was located off to the side of the house and couldn’t see through the window, but I did have a full view of the complete backyard. The leaves had been falling from the trees all day long. Dad was after us boys to keep raking so the yard would be free from them. Then I heard it, coming in from the distance. A slow rustle of leaves as though someone was walking through them, dragging their feet. The closer it came, the louder the noise. Wasn’t quite a noise you would hear if you were inside, but definitely something you would hear if you were outside. I could hear where it was coming from but still wasn’t able to see any kind of figure. Closer and closer it came toward the house. Then finally, I could make out the figure and where it was. I had glanced toward the cemetery, and there it was, standing at the small fence that surrounded most of the cemetery. He had come through the cemetery, or maybe from within. I was beginning to shake from the thought that this was some kind of menace—or even a zombie. I watched as the figure proceeded to step over the low fence and come toward the house. Just then, I could hear more rustling of leaves. I realized these sounds were not coming from my yard but from the leaves that had fallen in the cemetery. The moon had now risen to a point where I could see additional figures milling around in the cemetery. Was this The Night of the Living Dead all over again? Zombies were emerging from their graves to search for living tissue. Wow, what an imagination I have, I thought to myself. I’m just seeing small trees that are blowing in the wind. But it couldn’t be. There is no breeze tonight.

The figure had now approached to a point where it just stood and gazed at the house. I finally got my first good look at this figure. It couldn’t have been more than fifty to a hundred feet away. Then it happened. Never in my whole life would I have believed what I saw next. There, in its hand, was what looked like a round head. I couldn’t make out exactly what it was because the figure was standing in the shadow of a large oak tree. The full moon had created this eerie shadow to help protect the identity of this man. I’m guessing it’s a man, but I’m not sure. The light from what seemed to be a match had lit up the front part of the person. I couldn’t see what he was doing, but then it became apparent: he was lighting a candle within the object in his hand. He proceeded to light and then placed the object where his head should have been. That’s when I realized he had no head. He was the headless man. I screamed to myself; I didn’t dare let out any noise, but my body was shaking like a major earthquake.

Just then, I heard my sisters scream for Dad. That scream alone made me jump. The next thing I knew, the figure disappeared from sight. Where did he go? Did he return to the graveyard? I heard all kinds of commotion in the house—people were yelling and running around. There was Dad and Harry outside. They approached the area where the man was standing. Then it happened. Zombies from everywhere were grabbing Dad and Harry, dragging them off toward the graveyard. All I could hear was them screaming. I could see them fighting to get away, but there was too many of them. Up and over the fence, I saw them being dragged, not to hear from them again.

Moments later, Mom and the girls appeared outside, yelling for Dad and Harry; but there was no response. I wanted to scream to them to stay in the house, but I was frozen in my hiding spot. I couldn’t believe what was happening to my family. Before I knew it, my older brother Rick joined the three women outside. They were looking around the yard for any sign of Dad or Harry—none was found. The moon continued to rise till it was almost overhead, and then the unthinkable happened. Another wave of zombies had consumed the rest of my family, dragging them off to who knows where. Was I to be the only member left of our family? Would anyone believe my story? Would I be locked up at Dixmont for being crazy? All questions that I would assume would be answered. A rush of fear came over me. I felt hands grabbing me from behind. Was I to end up as my family? All I could feel was the shaking of my body, back and forth, wildly at first, then I heard those words I would never forget.

Frank, wake up! What’s going on? said my brother Rick.

I felt myself fighting his hand as he shook me awake from one of the worst nightmares I have ever had in my young life.

Leave me alone, I yelled. Then it hit me, He was waking me, and I was safe in my bed on the second floor of our house.

Come on, get up, he suggested. Let’s make some breakfast. You do the toast, and I’ll do the eggs, he said.

OK, OK give me a minute to wake up, I answered him from my groggy state. Was last night real? Did someone scare my sisters, or was that all part of my dream? Soon I will have the answers I seek. I jumped out of bed and as I wiped the sleep from my eyes. I made my way to the kitchen on the first floor. Everyone else was still sleeping. It was Saturday—no school, no work. Everyone was sleeping in except me and my brother. We always got up early on weekends to watch our favorite cartoons on TV and to continue the ongoing monopoly game that we had been playing for the past week.

Come on, Frank, get the toast started. My brother spoke in a low voice so as to not wake Mom and Dad. Their bedroom was right off the kitchen, not far from the back door.

OK, how many you want? I asked.

Four pieces as usual, he answered back.

I should have known this. That’s what we always made each other every Saturday morning, but today didn’t seem like any other weekend day to me. Going through my little brain were the events from last night—were they real? Again, I thought to myself, How come Ricky hasn’t mentioned it, did it happen or not? I was kind of shy and didn’t ask a lot of questions, but this seemed like a good time to start.

Ricky, what happened last night? I queried.

What do you mean, Frank? he shot back to me. You talking about that dream you were having? he asked, puzzled.

Did he not remember last night? I thought to myself. Maybe it was real, and he was brainwashed from remembering.

Yes, Rick, I guess I did mean the dream, I hastily answered.

Well, how would I know what you’re talking about? You had the dream, not me, he said. Finish the toast. The eggs are almost ready, and we’ll miss our cartoons if you don’t hurry, he hurriedly said.

OK, they’re almost done. You want jelly on them? I asked.

Only on two of them, and butter on the other two, he replied.

We filled our plates with dippy eggs, two each, and four pieces of toast and a hot cup of tea. We proceeded into the living room and sat in front of the old black-and-white TV. Switching on the set and keeping the sound low, we ate our breakfast and sat and laughed at the funny cartoons. After hours of watching the Bugs Bunny Show and Tom and Jerry cartoons, we went upstairs and got dressed for our day of exploring. We decided to go outside before Dad gave us work to do on this Saturday morning. We heard the rest of the family stirring just as we got out the door.

Whew, that was close, Ricky said as we ran into the backyard.

That’s for sure. I sure thought Dad would get us, I whispered.

OK, let’s start looking for some clues.

Ricky said, For what?

You know… clues to see if we can find out who was out here last night.

Oh… that. I was half asleep, but I’ll help you, Ricky answered.

Fine, look for footprints or something that proves that someone was standing in this general area of the yard, I commanded him.

We searched the area, didn’t find much except for a smoked cigarette butt. Our very first clue. The only person who smoked in our family was Dad. But he only smoked those smelly cigars and usually only when he worked on the car. We proceeded to scowl the whole back yard, eventually leading us up to the rusty cemetery fence. That’s when I spotted it.

Ricky! Here, I found something, I excitedly announced. Quick, come see.

OK, hold your pants on, he said in disgust. He was all the way down the other end of the yard and had to sprint to where I was.

Look, here attached to a broken part of the rusty old fence.

What, what is it? he questioned me.

Looks like a piece of shiny material ripped from something, I said.

Ricky stepped over the fence and looked at it from a different angle. The way it was stuck, it had to be ripped from someone going over the fence from our yard into the cemetery.

Frank, Frank, here look at this! Ricky yelled at me.

What?

There in the soft ground of a newly dug gravesite was a footprint that appeared to be made by someone running directly from our yard.

Looks like whoever left this material on the fence also was in our backyard and running through this cemetery, deduced Ricky.

You’re so right. Ricky. Come on, let’s see if we can find more of them, I said.

We slowly proceeded in a direct line from the fence, past the footprint, and looked for more proof of this mystery person. We looked, but didn’t find any more in the direct line that we thought someone would take.

Ricky, think about it. If you were running to hide from someone, would you run in a straight line? I asked him.

No, I wouldn’t. Whoever this was probably weaved their way through the many grave markers that are here, Ricky quickly said.

Many of the markers stood over five feet tall and provided an excellent cover for someone that was trying to hide. For what seemed like hours, we examined every site in the cemetery to try to locate anything out of the ordinary. Then we spotted it.

Ricky, here look at this.

What, what did you find?

There, on one of the grave markers, we found what appeared to be a small envelope. Upon further examination, we discovered many small pieces of paper with handwritten statements on them.

What do you make of this, Ricky? I queried.

TODAY IS ONLY THE BEGINNING appeared on the first note we removed from the envelope.

Wow! What do you think that means, Ricky?

Not sure, but I don’t like where this is going.

The second note, we pulled from the same envelope.

BE PREPARED FOR WHAT IS NEXT was what appeared on the next one.

Do you think this has to be from the guy that was seen last night by Denise and Norma? I asked Ricky.

Frank, I have no idea. But if it is, we are in for more nightly visits based on what these notes say, he said.

Ricky slowly pulled the third note from its snuggly home in that envelope.

YOUR JOURNEY IS ONLY STARTING.

What do you make of this, Ricky?

I am not sure, but we better keep this to ourselves. No one would believe us.

What if something else happens? Shouldn’t we warn the family?

No, they will probably think we made all this up. You know, two young kids with imaginations.

But we have these messages.

Anyone could have made these up, Frank. Come on, think about it.

Yeah, I guess you’re right. Are there any more in there?

Yep, only one more, I think, said Ricky

I could tell from his shaky voice that he was scared about these messages and wasn’t looking forward to reading that last one. But he pulled it slowly out and brought it up toward his eyes to read it.

THE END WILL COME SWIFTLY.

Not something that we really wanted to hear just then. The weather had turned colder and windy as we stood in the cemetery. We looked at all the gray and colorless gravestones that surely marked the end. Is this what the notes suggested? That we were doomed to end up here where we stood? Ricky hurriedly put the notes back in the small envelope and placed it back where we had found it. The day was getting late, and since the time changed, darkness was coming upon us rather quickly. Little did we realize that we had spent our whole day chasing down clues from last night’s encounter. The silence was broken.

Boys, dinner! rang out from Mom’s high-pitched voice. This brought us back to our own little world.

Screams

Weeks passed with nothing really out of the ordinary. Halloween passed as it had for many years. We brought in pillowcases full of candy that Mom and Dad had us split up so that we wouldn’t eat it all. Bags of candy were placed in the freezer to be eaten at a later time. I guess this was their way to keep us from rotting out our teeth and keeping us away from the sugar highs that drove most kids uncontrollable. Thanksgiving break was upon us in no time, and we all looked forward to this break from school. Snow had started falling, and of course, our thoughts turned to sledding and snowball fights. Our backyard was steep enough that we were able to create a sled riding track from the edge of the cemetery and went between the house and the garage. We enjoyed many days of this activity, but then it was back to school for a few weeks until Christmas break. The best time of the year for me, so I thought. Little did I know that this time of the year would bring me the most bone-chilling incident of my life.

Saturday morning was the first day of our Christmas vacation. It started out as normal. I had breakfast with my brother Rick. We watched cartoons on the TV for hours on end. The day was very cold, but normal for this time of year for western Pennsylvania. Winters in our small community west of Pittsburgh were always cold and had plenty of snow. Today was one of those days; it was snowing lightly, the ground already covered with two to four inches of old snow. Mom wanted us to stay in today to clean our room. Mom always had this ploy where if your room wasn’t clean, you can’t expect Santa to leave you more toys to play with. It always worked.

Come on, Ricky, let’s get our room cleaned, I told him.

OK, right after this last cartoon, he announced.

We ran up the old creaky steps to our room on the second floor. The wind was howling today, and our room felt so cold. We both put on extra shirts and started to work at the cleanup. We also had the extra chore of straightening up Harry’s things, for he and Dad had gone to cut us a Christmas tree. The extra work didn’t really bother us; we just wanted to have it clean for our new toys that we anticipated getting for Christmas.

Denise! Norma! I heard Mom say as she came up the steep stairs.

In here, Mom, the girls answered in unison.

I’m going to need you two to babysit your brothers tonight, Mom said.

Why, Mom? Where are you going? questioned Denise.

Mom, in a whispered voice, said, Dad and I are going Christmas shopping tonight, so keep the boys busy, and be sure they are in bed early.

OK, but how long will you be gone? asked Norma.

Not sure, answered Mom. But Dad and I will be leaving right after dinner. So I want you girls to clean up the kitchen and then settle the boys in with the TV for a while, but have them in bed by nine.

OK, they both answered.

I then heard Mom close their