The Dark Trinity: A Novel

By Jo C. Johnston

In April of 1910, in Forney, Texas, three children go missing on a day of violent thunderstorms. They are presumed dead, drowned in the Trinity River, their bodies washed away and never found. Two of them are brothers, the third is a little neighbor girl.
In April of 1988, during an economic depression, two women, Ruby and Retha, siblings, take on the interior renovation of an old country mansion in Forney, Texas, that has sat vacant for two decades. However, the women soon discover that they share residence with the specters of three children, and more unsettling, with the vile specter of the childrens murderer, who wants to reap the childrens souls. When it realizes Ruby and Retha have moved in and want to help the children to cross over, it wants their souls, too, to feed to its deity, something it refers to as The Great Serpent.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Jun 13, 2018
• ISBN: 9781546239581

Jo C. Johnston

Jo C. Johnston was born and raised in Washington, D.C., but lived in Mesquite, Texas for more than a dozen years.

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copyright © 2018 Jo C. Johnston. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 05/22/2018

ISBN: 978-1-5462-3959-8 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5462-3958-1 (e)

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Dedicated to my daughters, Lori and Kelly, and to my good friends, Ruby Hilborn and Retha Goforth. Without you, this story would never have been written. And:

In Loving Memory

of

Everett Allen Hilborn

1970 - 2007

Also, a very special thanks to another of my friends, Linda Smith, for all the times she let me use her printer.

Contents

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

CHAPTER THIRTY

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

CHAPTER FORTY

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

CHAPTER FIFTY

CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE

CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX

CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT

CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE

CHAPTER SIXTY

CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE

CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO

CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE

EPILOGUE

PROLOGUE

FORNEY, TEXAS

APRIL, 1910

Ruuunnn, Jimmy John, Robert Earl shouted over his shoulder to his eight-year-old brother. Run! He’s Comin’. Ruuunnn!

The younger boy was doing his best to keep up.

I cain’t run as fast as you, Robert Earl, Jimmy complained, fear making his voice quaver.

Robert ran back a few steps, grabbed his brother’s hand and pulled him along.

C’mon! He’s comin’ after us!

The day was humid, the sun warm on their bare arms. Both boys carried cane poles over their shoulders, fishing lines and cork bobbers jerking and snapping as they pounded along. Bare feet tore through a carpet of bluebonnets, some of the plants catching between their toes as the boys ran. They cleared the patch of wildflowers and plunged into a stand of pin oaks and pecan trees.

Behind them came the swish-swish sound of someone walking rapidly through the bluebonnets.

The boys reached the edge of the river and ran north along the bank, their feet splattering muddy water in every direction.

Their breath came in ragged gasps. Their frightened eyes spilled tears down their freckled faces. Beads of water and perspiration sparkled in their shoulder length, dark, wavy, hair.

Ten-year-old Robert Earl looked back over his shoulder. The huge, white house loomed through the trees. Sunlight reflected from its windows and from the windshield of the automobile that had excited their curiosity and drawn them toward the house to see what they should not have seen. Now, although Robert Earl couldn’t see their pursuer, the youngster knew he was still after them. The boy’s heart thumped so hard the bib of his overalls trembled with each beat.

We gotta git to town and tell Sheriff Nall what we see’d, Jimmy, he gasped.

They thrashed through a brake of cattails and reeds, startling nesting red-winged black birds into flight.

I’m sceer’d, Jimmy whimpered.

Me, too, Robert Earl admitted.

That frightened Jimmy even more. His big brother would just about rather die than admit he was afraid of anything. The fact that Robert Earl said he was scared now told little Jimmy the situation was very serious.

They ran through more reeds and plunged hip-deep into the cold, dark, water of the east fork of the Trinity River.

Let’s git across the river, Jimmy, Robert gasped. We’ll lose’im in the marsh.

Jimmy didn’t answer, just nodded his head.

The boys waded beyond the reeds. The river wasn’t deep here. A mud flat rose from the center and the boys made for it.

Robert tossed their poles as they scrambled onto the flat and started running again. But the flat was soft and they sank almost to their knees at every step.

Robert Earl, my side hurts, Jimmy cried.

Robert was worried. If he let anything happen to Jimmy—well, he didn’t know what he’d do.

Who was that little girl back there? Jimmy gasped.

I think it were Dorothy Pearson, Robert answered.

What’d he do to her? I never see’d so much blood.

Behind them, a little ways downstream, a flock of birds suddenly soared from the reeds with a loud flapping and complaining.

Don’t think about it, Jimmy, Robert answered, turning panic stricken eyes behind them. We’re almost there.

Plunk. Something splashed beside him and disappeared in the mud.

Robert Earl saw a shadowy figure in the reeds on the bank they had just left. It held something like a long stick to its mouth. The stick wavered then steadied. Plunk. Another something splashed and disappeared in the mud beside the boys.

Ruuunnnn, Robert screamed.

Jimmy stood frozen for a moment at the sheer terror in his brother’s voice. Then something stung his leg. He looked down to see a splinter of wood with a tuft of cotton at its end sticking out of his calf beneath the rolled up pant-leg of his overalls. Puzzled, he reached for it. It didn’t hurt after the initial sting. But even as he reached he felt weariness stealing over him and it became difficult to breathe. His legs folded and he fell onto his side on the mud flat, two steps from the opposite shore, and the safety of the marsh reeds. Still puzzled, he tried to reach a hand to Robert Earl who scrambled over to him, but he couldn’t move. His heart grew sluggish and fought to beat, then surrendered to the paralysis and stopped.

Noooo! Robert Earl screamed as he tried to lift Jimmy.

Something struck him in his throat. Automatically, his hands went to his neck. He felt a tuft of cotton as he collapsed over his brother.

The pursuer slung the blowgun over his shoulder by its leather straps and waded across to the boys. He lifted them, one under each arm, and carried them back the way they had come.

When he got to the stand of trees behind the house he had to stop and rest a few minutes. Then he continued on to the old carriage house and laid the bodies on the floor beside a large feed box, next to the bloody remains of a little girl, and covered them all with burlap. Then he went back to the river for the boys’ cane poles.

He looked with satisfaction to the west. High, dark, billowing, clouds filled the sky. A storm was building. A good rain would wash away all tracks he and his victims had made.

CHAPTER ONE

FORNEY, TEXAS

APRIL, 1988

Ruby guided the little mustard-yellow Corolla at a steady twenty-five miles an hour around a curve beneath a canopy of leafy branches that dappled the road and car with sunlight.

Although it sported several rusty patches, the ten-year-old car ran smoothly.

The radio was tuned to a country station and the melodious voice of Gentleman Jim Reeves filled the interior of the Toyota, crooning, Welcome to my world. Won’t you come on in? She palmed the wheel and the little car straddled a pothole in the asphalt that qualified as a small crater, then slowed to make the turn onto the sandy stretch that was Wilcox Lane. The road sign was overgrown with morning glory vines. If she hadn’t known the road was there, she would have missed it. Another canopy of trees closed over the car, plunging them into a yellow-green twilight as they crossed a cattle guard, the tires making a thrumming sound.

Triple strands of a rusty, barbed wire fence stretched away from posts on each side of the cattle guard and disappeared among the trees.

Retha, Ruby’s younger sister by two years, sat in the worn bucket seat of the passenger side. The car windows down, she enjoyed the drive and the spring day.

Insects droned in the woods on both sides of the dirt road. Bees zipped back and forth, and butterflies fluttered over the newly bloomed bluebonnets, Indian paintbrushes, buttercups, and black-eyed Susan that splashed the day with spectacular color. It was late April in the Forney bottoms and already humid.

A quarter of a mile further, Wilcox Lane ended in a circular drive and Ruby stopped the car, letting it idle as she and Retha looked at their new home.

The huge old house sat in forlorn desolation. The blankness of its many windows gave it the appearance of a hollow-eyed corpse left too long in the sun. The exterior paint was cracked and blistered, hanging in places like the dead, molted skin of lizards. Large areas had no paint at all showing gray, weathered boards long exposed to the Texas elements.

A carpet of bluebonnets grew in a solid, unbroken mass to within a few feet of the house, seeming to hesitate at crossing some invisible boundary between them and the tire ruts in the sandy dirt that ran out of sight around the back of the structure.

Home sweet home, Ruby smiled, trying to allay the uncertainty she saw in Retha’s face.

It was the first time Retha had seen the place. Lordy, Ruby, I do believe that’s the spookiest looking house I’ve seen in a long time.

Ruby grinned, still trying to ease her sister’s doubts. It’s only an old country mansion. It just needs a little TLC.

Retha smiled back. It’ll need more than a little, she said emphatically.

Ain’t that the truth, Ruby laughed.

Several yards off to one side of the old mansion was what once had been an old carriage house, long since converted to use as a garage. Ruby parked the little Toyota in front of it and both women got out. Their build and the way they carried themselves showed the strong mixture of their Choctaw ancestry. They both wore jeans and short-sleeved cotton blouses.

Just then, a long Ryder truck emerged from the tunnel of trees and parked in the bend of the circular drive. Close behind the truck was Thorne’s blue, ’57 Malibu. The driver’s door, in contrast with the rest of the car, was bright red. The Malibu pulled up, off to one side of the truck, bumper deep in bluebonnets.

Thorne and Everett, Ruby’s husband and teenage son, got out of the car. Clifford, Retha’s husband, got out of the truck, went to the back of it, raised the roll-up door and let the tailgate down. Then all three walked over to the women.

Open her up, Ruby, Thorne said, his voice deep and about as big as he was. We’ll get unloaded and go turn the truck in.

Clifford, a tall smiling man, shy around strangers, grinned at the doubt in his wife’s eyes. We’ve lived in worse, honey, and a lot smaller.

That’s a fact, Retha agreed, but her expression was still doubtful.

Hey, Thorne laughed, coming up behind Ruby and wrapping her in a bear hug, this is your dream come true. You gals always wanted a mansion, didn’t you? Well, now y’all got one.

Ruby stood five three, the top of her head not clearing Thorne’s shoulder.

She twisted her head around to look up at him. Yeah, she said. But we didn’t know it was a mansion in a kit.

Time’s a wastin’, woman, Thorne boomed in his best hillbilly twang. He swatted Ruby on the behind. Get that there front door open, so we can unload. Then see if you can find the groceries and make us menfolk some vittles.

Ruby laughed. Shoot, Thorne, she said, all I’ll have to do is find the bread. With all the baloney you’re spouting, there’ll be enough for sandwiches all around, and seconds, too.

Everett, leaning his tall lanky frame against the truck, laughed out loud.

She got you that time, Dad.

Retha and Clifford looked at each other and grinned.

Still laughing, Ruby pulled her purse from the Toyota and fished in it for the door key. Mrs. Harris said power and gas would be turned on today, she said as she headed for the house. She climbed the five steps to the verandah, Retha right behind her.

A new brass lock gleamed in incongruous splendor, accentuating the corruption of paint that was the front door.

Just as Ruby reached to insert the key, the door opened, seemingly on its own. Startled, she gasped and jumped back, colliding with Retha, nearly knocking her off the porch. They grabbed at each other and steadied themselves. A moment later the figure of Mrs. Harris’ chauffeur, Enoch, materialized in the doorway.

The tall, elderly black man was all concern as he stepped out onto the verandah. Scuse me, ma’am. I didn’t mean to give you a start. Miz Pony, she axed me to open the door fer you folks.

I just wasn’t expecting anyone to be here, Ruby said, regaining her composure.

There was a thumping noise from inside the house. Then, the heavy form of Mrs. Pony Harris, in a flowered print house-dress and leaning on two canes, waddled into the doorway.

You folks gonna stand out here an’ jaw all day? Pony Harris’ face broke into a smile, her bright, button-black eyes nearly disappearing into the wrinkled creases of her face. She was eighty-one and still ran her real estate business.

She hobbled over to a porch swing, its wood as gray as the house. The swing was suspended by rusty chains attached to eyelets in a beam of the verandah’s roof. Enoch hurried over to steady it as she settled her ample rump on the seat.

Sure am glad you folks’re gonna stay awhile, the old lady said. This old house needs some sprucing up. Once upon a time I could do it myself, but I ain’t as spry as I used to be.

You did the fixing up around here yourself, Mrs. Harris? Ruby asked her tone incredulous.

Sure did, young’un, an’ please, call me Pony. I’m kinda partial to the name. Last time I painted this place I fell off this here verandah’s roof an’ broke my hip. That was a while back. Jest ain’t been as nimble since then. But, it’s too fine a house to jest let fall into rack ’n’ ruin. I’ll send the paint an’ wallpaper over like I told y’all I would. If you do a good job, y’all can stay through the winter rent-free. She’s a tax write-off to me now, anyway. Just cain’t keep’er rented.

Why’s that, Mrs. Harris? It seems like it was a mighty fine house once, Retha said.

"Sure was, an’ will be again. But, most of my renters are city folks. City folks all want the peace an’ quiet of country living. But peace an’ quiet is one thing city folks jest cain’t stand.

Next thing you know their ’maginations run away with ’em an’ they get spooked. Mrs. Harris’ eyes sparkled.

Mrs. Harris, uh, Pony, Ruby said, smiling in response to the amusement reflected in the old lady’s face, we’ll do the best we can to fix the house up again.

One of Ruby’s prized possessions was a crocheted covered brick that originally came from an ancestral home in Oklahoma. It was used as a door stop in the last house they lived in on Dallas’ west side. Now, the brick was used to prop the old mansion’s front door wide open.

Thorne and Clifford hauled a couch out of the truck and wrestled it up the verandah steps. A couple of minutes later Everett wobbled by, bent over, with an over-stuffed armchair nestled around his head and shoulders.

Enoch, Pony Harris said over her shoulder, bring the car around. We’ll let these folks be so they can get settled in.

Yes ma’am, Enoch said, his expression noncommittal, and followed the verandah around to the back of the house where Mrs. Harris’ dark blue Lincoln Continental was parked out of sight.

TP&L an’ Lone Star Gas turned the power an’ gas on yesterday, Pony said.

As she leaned her bulk forward to get up, the swing moved out from under her. Both Ruby and Retha reached at the same time to keep the old lady from falling.

Just then there was a loud crash from inside the house.

Ruby left Retha to support the old woman and hurried inside. In the vestibule, Everett was sprawled on his stomach, struggling to extract himself from beneath the chair.

Thorne and Clifford reached him about the same time as Ruby and lifted the chair off him.

Everett, son, are you all right? Ruby asked.

Everett got to his feet and dusted his jeans off with his hands. He was embarrassed and grinned sheepishly.

I just tripped over something, Mom. It felt like a little kid.

That umbrella stand gets everybody sooner or later, grumbled Pony Harris, thumping through the doorway on her canes. Retha came in behind her.

I should’ve got rid of the dang thing a long time ago, but it looks so nice right there.

Everyone looked to see where the old lady was pointing with one of her canes. Turned over at an angle to the wall, beside the closed dining room doors, was an ornate, brass umbrella stand, gleaming dully in the gloom of the entrance hall.

Is the boy all right? Pony asked as Ruby went over and righted the heavy umbrella stand. She thought the old lady sounded nervous.

Yes’am, I’m fine, Everett said, even more embarrassed at the attention his fall brought him.

Pony looked relieved. Good. Good, she said. Then, Well, I’ll be goin’ now. You said y’all already made arrangements for Ma Bell to come out an’ hook up a phone. That’s fine. But, like I told you, y’all’re responsible for that bill. ’Course, this far out y’all’ll have a party line. An’, remember, there ain’t no furnace. I know it’s been real warm an’ humid this week, but it’s only April. Y’all’ll have to use space heaters or the fireplaces if it turns cold. But, I plan on having central heating installed before winter.

No problem, Miss Pony, Ruby assured her. We know how unpredictable April weather can be. We have lots of blankets, and I do have a couple of space heaters. That’s what we used at our house in Dallas. We didn’t have central heating there, either.

Just then the Lincoln rounded the corner of the house and pulled to a stop in front. Pony thump-thumped her way out onto the verandah again.

Enoch got out of the car to help the old lady down the steps.

The house faced west, and over the trees, high, rain laden clouds could be seen.

You boys better get a move on an’ unload, Pony said, looking over her shoulder toward Thorne and Clifford. Looks like we’re gonna get a Texas size April shower.

Enoch helped her into the back of the Lincoln. Just before the chauffeur closed the rear door the old lady said, If you don’t mind, I’ll drop by every now an’ again to see how you folks’re doing.

You come by anytime, Mrs. Harris, you hear. We’ll be pleased to have you, Ruby smiled.

Call me Pony, Mrs. Harris demanded just as Enoch closed the rear door then got in behind the wheel. He steered the dark blue Lincoln between the truck and Malibu. A moment later the car disappeared under the canopy of trees that tunneled Wilcox lane.

Ruby went to the Toyota, opened the trunk, and pulled out a box that held cleaning liquids, bug sprays, and dust rags.

Might as well get started on the kitchen, she said out loud. Then, as she and Retha entered the house, she called over her shoulder, Everett, bring in that ice chest from your dad’s car and put the meat and drinks in the refrigerator.

Everett shook his dark, shoulder length hair away from his face and jumped off the verandah. He opened the trunk of the Malibu and lifted out a red and white Coleman ice chest. Holding it by both handles, and leaning back against the pull of its weight, he waded through the bluebonnets, up the verandah steps, and into the house.

Ruby and Retha were already in the kitchen. Everything was coated with dust. The stove and refrigerator, white enamel chipped in a couple of places, were at least thirty years old. Even so, when Ruby turned the burners on and struck a match, they ignited right away. Retha opened the refrigerator to find the empty interior quite cold.

Everett set the ice chest down in front of the refrigerator and began transferring the contents, dripping water, into it. Retha tried to wipe everything first, but Everett was transferring items as quickly as he could. With a sigh, Retha stepped back and let him finish, resigned to mopping up behind him.

Everett, Ruby said, as she filled the sink with hot sudsy water, before you go help your dad, take the chest out back and drain it.

Okay. Everett took the Coleman onto the back verandah. He pulled the plug in the base on one end and tilted the chest off to one side of the back steps.

A stand of pin oaks and pecan trees extended from the far side of the sandy tire ruts that circled the house to the banks of the creek that was the east fork of the Trinity River, several yards distant behind the mansion. The water, seen through the trees, gleamed darkly in the sunlight as it flowed through tall reeds and cattails.

A male cardinal darted across Everett’s vision. Its scarlet plumage stood out in sharp contrast against the dark boles of the trees as it flitted from branch to branch. Then, as it’s more somber hued mate joined it, they both flew off toward the river. Other marsh birds talked in the distance.

For a moment, Everett thought he heard children’s voices down by the water. He looked, but only saw water glinting beyond the trees and the beginnings of the marsh on the far side of the creek. He shrugged and dismissed the notion when the voices weren’t repeated. Instead, an ominous roll of thunder growled overhead and brought him out of his reverie. He dumped the remaining ice over the railing and set the empty chest beside the kitchen door, leaving the lid open. He hurried through the house to go out to the truck to help his father and uncle unload.

Everett, Ruby said as he passed through the kitchen, when you get out there, roll up the car windows. Please. I forgot to do it.

Sure thing, Mom, he said.

The last of the furnishings and cartons were brought in just ahead of a cloudburst that turned into a torrential downpour. The afternoon sunlight dissolved into black clouds. Forked lightning flared across the sky, then raced to earth and struck somewhere across the river.

The lights in the house flickered and dimmed. Ruby and Retha held their breath until the lights regained their steady glow.

We better find the flashlights and candles while we can still see, Ruby said.

There was a hasty rummaging through several boxes before Retha came up with a box of tapered Christmas candles.

Suddenly, the house echoed with an awful moaning and the women heard the unsteady tread of someone upstairs. The moan came again right outside the kitchen door. The two women looked at each other.

Will you listen to those dern fools, Retha said. She grabbed a broom and went out into the dark hallway.

"Clifford! Thorne! Y’all stop trying to scare us. I’ll whop the tar out of both of you."

Suddenly, a pale figure rushed up behind her from beneath the stairs. Retha shrieked and dropped her broom as she was wrapped in a white embrace.

Ruby ran out into the hall as soon as Retha screamed. In one motion, she stooped, snatched up the broom, and swung it against the figure that had hold of her sister. There was a satisfying thunk, and a howl of pain as the figure let go of Retha.

Ruby backed up to the front door and hit the wall switches. The dim overhead light, set high in the ceiling, did little to dispel the shadows.

Clifford stood there in the gloom of the foyer, wrapped in a bed sheet from head to toe. He was laughing, trying to rub his back where the broom had whacked him.

Thorne sat halfway up the stairs rocking and wheezing with laughter.

Damn it, Clifford, Retha said in a shaky voice, you scared the bejeezies outta me.

Ain’t you fools got nothin’ better to do, Ruby fumed. Hell-fire, go turn the truck back in before we have to pay another day’s rent on it!

Clifford pulled the sheet off, balled it up, and piled it on top of some boxes beside him. Damn, Ruby, he grinned. You like to’ve broke my ribs.

Serve you right if I did, Ruby grumbled. She strode past them with her broom and went back into the kitchen, still bristling with indignation. C’mon, Retha. Let’s get things put away and start supper.

Retha gave Clifford a baleful look and followed her sister into the kitchen.

She’s right, Clifford, Thorne said, coming down the stairs, still grinning. Let’s get the truck back." He pulled the Malibu’s keys out of his jeans pocket.

Mom, I’m gonna ride with Dad, Everett called.

Thorne put his hand on Everett’s shoulder.

Stay here, son. We shook your mom and Aunt Retha up pretty bad. If the lights go out and we’re all gone, they’ll be scared.

Everett didn’t want to admit he’d be scared too. Shoot, Dad, tomorrow they’re gonna be alone anyway, he said. You an’ me an’ Uncle Clifford’ll be in Pennsylvania for at least six weeks. Won’t nobody be here to hold their hands then. Everett wasn’t trying to put his mom and aunt down, he just didn’t want to be in the house, either, if the lights went out.

Let’s not leave them alone till we have to. Thorne turned Everett back toward the kitchen, then stepped out onto the verandah, Clifford behind him.

Water poured in steady streams from the edge of the verandah roof. Beyond, a hard, steady rain drummed the bluebonnets against the ground.

The men turned up their shirt collars and hurried down the steps to the Malibu and truck.

Everett stood in the doorway. Through flashes of lightning, he watched until the taillights of the two vehicles disappeared through the curtain of rain.

When Everett reentered the kitchen, his mother said, Thought you were going with your dad.

He wanted me to stay with you and Aunt Retha in case the lights go out, so you won’t be scared.

Shoot, snorted Retha. That just means there’ll be three scared ’stead of two.

Ain’t that the truth, agreed Ruby as she put a sopping dishcloth in Everett’s hand.

I haven’t found my cutting board. How ’bout scrubbing down that counter over there so we can chop some vegetables?

Everett looked at the kitchen table. It was covered in boxes. He shrugged and washed off the counter top.

Retha went behind him with a towel and dried it. Everett, look and see if you can find the flashlights, she said.

As if to accentuate her words, thunder crashed overhead. The whole house shook. Windows rattled and, throughout the house, doors that weren’t securely shut, creaked and groaned as the vibrations moved them.

The two women looked nervously at each other. Ruby found one of her skillets and placed it on the stove. Then she put onions and tomatoes on the clean countertop, peeled the onions, and began dicing them and the tomatoes.

Retha put some vegetable oil in the skillet, turned the gas on under the burner, lit it with a wooden kitchen match, and adjusted the flame. When the oil began to bubble, she placed ground beef in the skillet. The meat sizzled in the hot oil. Retha went over to the table, to the box that held the seasonings and spices for the tacos.

Everett rummaged through a box by the hallway door.

There was another ear-splitting boom as a lightning bolt struck a utility pole off Interstate 20, two miles away.

The lights didn’t flicker. They just went out.

CHAPTER TWO

The house trembled. Unidentifiable noises echoed through the structure as joints and supports groaned in protest of the elements.

The three people in the kitchen stood still. Ruby didn’t realize she was holding her breath until she let it out to say, Everett, where’re those flashlights?

I ain’t found’em yet, Mom.

Shit, Ruby muttered.

The only source of light in the house was the burner under the skillet, and the intermittent illumination from lightning flashes.

Retha groped between some boxes on the table and breathed a loud sigh of relief. Lordy, Ruby, I got the candles right here.

Retha took one of the red Christmas candles and thrust the wick into the fire under the skillet, then lit two more.

All three stood beside the