Bill Johnson's Fiction

The Death of Shawneetown - Part 6

The following is the sixth and final part of this story. If you haven't read the previous parts yet, click the links on the right-hand side of this page.

I didn't sleep well that night.

I sat up for a long time on my dingy motel bed. I hadn't noticed this from the previous night, but it smelled of tabacco smoke and had cigarette-burn holes in the covers. The carpet wasn't much better. It must've been thirty years old, and the parts of it that weren't worn were spotted with stains of various colors, shapes, and sizes. I didn't care though. It's funny how single men often don't care about the cleanliness of their surroundings. Just throw us in a cave with beer and cable TV, and we're happy.

Speaking of cable, the television in my room didn't have it. Only four channels were available, with varying degrees of clarity, depending on where in the tri-state area their respective station transmitters were located. That wouldn't have been so bad, except the only thing showing on all four station at that time of night were infomercials. I learned all I could possibly want to know about an uncomfortable-looking contraption called the "Ab Shrinker". I had a choice between learning about that fine product, and this amazing stain lifter. I wonder if the motel's management knew about that item.

Really, I just had the TV on for background anyway. I was still fuming about what Mandy had said to me earlier that day. I decided she must have thought I was the biggest loser she had ever met. She'd probably be right. Here I was, about to turn thirty, and I was still hanging on to playgrounds and swingsets, oak trees and ball-parks, old school buildings and swimming pools, the past and my childhood. Did I have such a pathetic life that I had to escape into the past just to cope? Was I that miserable? Maybe not miserable, but unfulfilled certainly. Unsatisfied, definately. I kept going over our conversation in my head. The more I would go over it, the more it would eat at me, twisting my stomach into knots. Thinking about it made me angry. Angry at Mandy for saying those things, angry at myself because I knew she was telling the truth, then angry at Mandy for telling the truth, then angry at myself for being angry at Mandy for... you get the picture. Of course, it probably didn't help that I had started on a six-pack of Millers and finished them inside of an hour, which is fast for me.

Usually that much drinking causes me to sleep the "deep sleep", as I call it, a sleep so heavy, that, if not for my snoring, you'd think I was in a coma. It didn't happen that night, though. I kept having these strange nightmares. They weren't normal nightmares with stories and visuals. No, it was like I was dreaming in emotions instead of pictures. The first dream was grief, just grief. I can't say what I saw, because I didn't see anything. I only felt. But I felt it, the grief, intensely. Anyone who has ever lost someone close to them knows how it feels - the sudden emptiness, like some part of you has been ripped away, leaving you with less of yourself. And the feeling of powerlessness, the helplessness, the sensation that you're lost and don't know what your going to do or how you can go on without that person in your life anymore. That was my dream. I felt it. I felt all of it. And it was one of those dreams that seemed to go on forever and ever. When I finally woke up, I found my pillow soaked all the way through, but I wasn't sweating. I must've cried - a lot.

After much tossing and turning I had another dream. Now the feeling was relief. It's over, I kept thinking to myself, hearing the words in my head over and over again. It's finally over. I woke up, hearing myself ask out loud, "What is? What's over?"

More tossing and turning. This time I finally had a dream with pictures. I was outside the little funeral home in town. Stewart was there, but he wasn't retarded. He was dressed in a sharp dark suit, like he was the funeral director. He opened the front door and motioned for me to go inside. As he looked at me, he had that insincere, practiced, sad smile that funeral directors often use to make themselves look empathetic. "Go right in," he said with that low, somber voice also used by funeral directors, "we have a seat for you with the rest of the family."

As I stepped inside, I found myself several feet away from an ornate, shiny black casket. It was open, but I couldn't see who was inside. Somehow, Stewart was already there, standing next to the coffin. "Would you like to view her before the services start?" he asked, still sporting that creepy smile.

I walked up close to the casket to get a better look. It seemed to be a very fancy casket, with silver handles and fixtures lining the outside of it. Even though it was black it seemed very shiny, as if it had been polished with extreme care.

I was about to look inside the coffin when I noticed Mandy was standing in front of it, crying softly. She was dressed in a black mourning dress that looked like the ones worn by women around the turn of the early twentieth century, the kind of dress that covered every part of the body, from the top of the neck to the bottom of the ankles. She was also wearing a small black hat with a black lace veil covering her face, but I could still see it was Mandy. "She looks so peaceful," she kept saying, "she's at rest now."

I turned to look back at the casket, but it had changed. Now it was just a plain pine box, the kind of casket you see in old westerns. It was dirty and falling apart, like the wood was old and rotted.

"Oh no," Mandy said softly, "she didn't want to go like that. It's because all her children left her. That's why she has to go like that now."

Then Stewart spoke. "She's very happy that you're all here now."

I tried to look inside the coffin, but I couldn't make out any form inside it. There was just darkness, pitch-black darkness. "Who is she?" I asked.

"She's who you came back to see," Stewart said.

"Who is she?" I asked again, "I don't know who she is."

Suddenly, Stewart snapped. He got this enraged look on his face, as he yelled, "You don't know who she is?!" He pushed his face close to mine until we were almost touching, his face still full of rage, contorted into a crazy, wild-eyed expression. He was screaming now, "You don't know who she is?!!! You don't know who she is?!!!"

I sat up in bed, screaming. This time, I was sweating - profusely. My heart was beating so hard, it felt like it was going to come out of my chest. I couldn't breathe, I needed fresh air. I jumped out of bed and ran outside, leaving the door open behind me. I walked out and stood by the street, trying to force myself to take slow, deep breaths, sucking in the hot, muggy, summer night air. I was still sweating. Sweating and trembling. I felt cold, even though I knew it had to be eighty degrees outside.

After several minutes, I began to calm down and breathe normally. But I still didn't want to go back inside. I was wearing nothing but my boxer shorts and a T-shirt, but I didn't care. I was too afraid to lie down and close my eyes. So I stayed outside awhile, watching the occasional semi-truck roll over the dark lonely highway in front of me, until finally sleepiness forced me to return to bed.

I woke up the next morning feeling like I had been beaten up. I didn't feel rested at all. I looked at the large digital clock beside the bed. 10:45. Just enough time to wash up, pack my clothes, check out of the motel, and meet Mandy for lunch. Wait, I thought, check out? I was actually ready to leave town, or rather I knew I'd be leaving some time that day. It was the first time since I had arrived that I didn't feel stuck there, like I had to stay for some indeterminate amount of time. I knew I couldn't leave just yet, but I would very soon.

I met Mandy at Reba's Barbecue. Reba's was a fairly non-descript little diner that sat at the front of town along Highway 13. It was also the only place in town besides the churches that were open on Sunday.

As I walked in, I noticed how crowded the place was. I couldn't remember it ever being so busy. I was afraid I was going to have to wait for a table to open up when I saw Mandy had already gotten one for us. Clem was there too, we had asked him to join us.

Mandy smiled warmly at me as I got to the table. "Hey there, we've been waiting on you."

I smiled back at her. We didn't have to say it. We knew things were alright between us now.

"I guess this is the church crowd, huh?" I asked, "Is this place always so busy on Sundays?"

"Nah," Clem said, "it's all the visitors that come in this weekend. We sure did get a lot of them."

I looked around at the other customers, noticing a lot of people my age or younger mixed in with the older folks. "I see what you mean."

We chatted for awhile, mostly about the weather and other mundane trivia. But gradually the conversation turned to Clem's dad and Mandy's mom. Both had died of Cancer, and both Clem and Mandy had taken on the roles of caretakers.

"Dad had a pretty rough time there towards the end," Clem said. "The Cancer grew real fast there those last two weeks. There wasn't nothing the doctors could do about it, but give us medicine to give him to make the pain go away. He was hurtin pretty bad, too. The tumors had swelled up real big inside him. You could tell too, because he looked all swolled up."

I was surprised to hear Clem open up like that. But Mandy always seemed to be able to make people feel comfortable so that they could share things that they normally wouldn't.

"The drugs put him out of his mind," Clem continued. "It was like most of the time you couldn't tell if he knew you was there. You'd say somethin to him, and he might say somethin back to you, but you couldn't understand it. Other times, you'd say somethin and he wouldn't say nothin, just lie there. The only times he'd kinda snap out of it was when he had to go to the bathroom. But I had to help him with that too - take his pajama pants down, even wipe him after."

"Wow," I said, "that part must have been hard on you."

Clem looked up at me, looking slightly surprised and a little annoyed. "It was my privelege. And I wouldn't trade it for nothin. The only times I could half-way talk to him was when were in the bathroom together. For some reason, he'd snap out of it for just a little bit, then we'd talk. That last time in the bathroom," Clem started to choke up, "he told me he loved me. That was the first time we ever said that to each other, ever. And it wouldn't a never happened if I just let some nurse take care of him."

Mandy touched his hand. "You were a good son, Clem. Your dad must've loved you very much. I know he had to have been very grateful for all you did for him at the end."

Clem's eyes had started to water, but he tried not to look at us so we wouldn't notice. "You think so?"

"I know so," said Mandy.

She always knew the right words to say at just the right time. She should have been a psychiatrist.

Mandy started talking about her mother. Her experience was a little different. They were trying to treat the Cancer all the way to the end, so she died in the hospital in the care of nurses, instead of at home. "Of course, that last week, we were all there in the hospital with her. All of four of us kids. That was important to Mom. She wanted all of her children there at the end."

At that moment, I looked out the window and say Stewart riding his bike down the street. Then it hit me. It was like someone had thrown a bucket-full of ice cold water on me and woke me up from a deep sleep. "What did you say, Mandy?"

She turned to look at me. "Huh?"

"That last thing you said. What was it, the exact words?"

"Well, I don't know. I think I said something like, 'Mom wanted all her kids with her at the end'."

I slapped the table. "Oh my god. I got it. Oh, I mean I'm so sorry. I know you were talking about your mom and everything, but oh my god, I got it. I understand now. Oh, I know."

Other people in the restaurant had turned around to look at me. I didn't care.

"Know what?," Clem asked, "What are you talking about?"

"Why I'm here! Why everybody's here. Why the grass suddenly started growing so fast. Why buildings are falling down. Why the streets are coming apart. I know!"

"Well stop making a scene and tell us, for crying out loud!" Mandy said.

"Remember yesterday when we were at Cottonwood," I asked her, "What did you say happens when a town dies, about the grass and buildings and stuff."

"I don't understand..."

"Just say it!"

"Well, houses and buildings fall down because there's no one there to take care of them. The grass and underbrush grow up and take over everything, until there's pretty much just a patch of weeds left."

"Don't you see?" I pleaded, "That's what's happening to Shawneetown!"

"Rob, are you nuts?" she asked, half-jokingly, "that happens when there isn't anyone to take care of the place, and it happens over time, not all of the sudden, like it's happening here, while people are still here."

"But what if Shawneetown didn't want to die that way? What if she didn't want to wait until she was so neglected, so run-down that she just starts to slowly fall apart?"

I could tell Mandy didn't quite know what to make of me at the moment. "Rob, you're talking about Shawneetown like it's a person. It's just a town. Regardless, why would she, I mean, it want to die all of the sudden."

"You said it yesterday. You said when the young people leave, the life of the town leaves with them. Shawneetown knows what's happening to it, and doesn't want to have to suffer for a long time like your parents did. Don't you see?"

"Hold on," Clem said, "Are you sayin that Shawneetown is pullin some kind of Kevorkian and makin itself die faster? You are nuts.

"Ok, then why did all the young people come back to town? You said you knew that, too."

At that moment, the building started to shake violently. Plates fell off tables and shattered, paintings fell off the walls, light fixtures fell off the ceiling and broke into thousands of tiny pieces.

"Everyone under the tables!" someone shouted.

Part of the ceiling crumbled and fell to the floor.

"No," someone else shouted, "everybody get outside!"

Somehow we all knew that was what we had to do. Unforunately, there had to be over eighty people in that little diner, and one small front door for everyone to shove and push their way out of. Someone threw a chair through the large plate glass window in the front. Several of us got out that way. I pushed Mandy out the window ahead of me and then jumped out behind her. Once outside, most of us started running up Shawnee Boulevard towards the square, which was the only open area close by where no buildings could fall on us. In the confusion, I momentarily lost Mandy and Clem.

"Mandy!" I yelled, "Clem!"

"Rob!", Mandy yelled back.

I saw her a few yards away, already on the square. She looked like she was nursing a cut or bruise on her leg.

"What happened? Are you alright?"

"Someone fell on me while were getting out of the restaurant. There was so much pushing and shoving."

"Here," I said, "let me take a look."

It looked like a bad bruise, but nothing was broken, and there wasn't any bleeding.

"Where's Clem?" I said.

Mandy pointed to Clem. He hadn't come all the way to the square, but was standing about half-way between it and the diner, watching the building shake as people still piled out.

"Man," some lady in the crowd said, "what an earthquake!"

Clem had walked back a little by this time, so he was a little closer to us. "No, it's not an earthquake," he said, "Look, we ain't even fifty yards from the restaurant, but the ground's not shakin over here. If it was an earthquake, we'd feel it too."

He was right. Mandy and I looked at each other as we both realized the ground wasn't shaking underneath us.

"Well what is it, then?," the lady asked.

Before anyone could answer, Reba's Barbecue trembled for one last time then collapsed to the ground, just seconds after the last person left in the restaurant had stumbled out. Then the same thing started happening to the bar next to it. Then another building, then another. It being Sunday most of the buildings were empty, but then the chain reaction came up our direction until it reached the big white Baptist church on the corner of Marshall and Lincoln. The big bell at the top of the huge steeple started to clang loudly and horribly as the whole building shook, from foundation to spire. Parishioners started running out, yelling, grabbing their children.

"Is that everybody?" An older gentleman dressed in his Sunday best yelled at the last person to come out.

"Yeah," the other man said, "I was the last one."

Seconds later, the church collapsed too. Then grass shot up out of the ground as if someone were pushing it up from underneath, and covered the rubble from view.

People were running from their homes too.

"My kids!" Clem said as he started running for his truck, "I gotta check on my kids!"

"My dad!" Mandy said, "Oh Rob, we have to go get my dad!"

"Quick. My car's this way."

We jumped in my car and sped off towards Mandy's house. All the time we had to dodge people running onto the streets out of buildings and homes, running for their lives. It was chaos. Then the street started breaking up entirely as grass and weeds started forcing their way up from the ground through the pavement. Finally, we reached Mandy's house. Her dad had found his way outside and was in the driveway. I jumped out and quickly helped him into the backseat.

"We need to get out of here," I said.

Just then, weeds and ivy had completely overtaken the walls of the house and appeared to actually pull the house a good five feet into the ground. All of the windows shattered. And a big, gaping whole formed in the roof as part of it fell in.

We sped off back through town, and across the highway on to a dirt road.

"Where are we going?" Mandy asked.

"Up on Gold Hill" I said.

"Why?"

"I don't know." I really didn't know. It just felt like that's where we were supposed to be.

There's a large plateau jutting out about half-way up the side of Gold Hill called Make-Out Point. This place had a great view of Shawneetown from above. Somehow, I knew that's where we needed to go. Evidently I wasn't the only person who felt that way. There were already several cars there as we arrived, and cars kept coming after us.

As we looked out over the town, we could see the rubble scattered across the little business district, slowly being covered over by a patch of green. Every fifteen minutes or so, another church would crumble and fall. We could see people running around, like a bunch of little ants that had been whipped into confusion because someone knocked over their ant hill.

"It's odd," Mandy said, "it's like the buildings wait for everybody to come out first, then collapse."

I had noticed that too. "She doesn't want to hurt anyone," I said, "It's just time for everybody to leave."

Another strange thing, most of the houses weren't collapsing like the businesses were. Instead of falling down completely, they were getting overrun and torn apart by weeds and other plant life. It looked like maybe the owners might be able come back and take their belongings out in a day or two, but nobody would be living in those houses ever again. I was sure it wouldn't be but a couple of months before the houses fell down too.

Eventually, I saw Clem's pickup winding its way up the dirt road to Make-Out Point. His kids and ex-wife were with him.

He pulled up and jumped out. "You guys alright?"

"Yeah, we're ok," I answered.

"What's everybody doing up here?" he asked.

I scanned the rather large crowd that had formed on this little nook. Several women were crying as their husbands held them. Some of the group seemed be walking around in a shocked daze. Others had their eyes fixed on the town below as they watched in disbelief. Then, I spotted Stewart standing there, smiling at me.

I knew why we were up here. We were her for the same reason that so many of us came to had come to town that weekend. I turned to Clem, "We're here for the funeral."

Mandy sidled up beside me, grabbed my arm, and leaned her head on it. I started to get that warm and fuzzy feeling again, stomach knots and all.

-The End

posted by Bill @ Monday, July 11, 2005 9 comments