If'n Freck and me was goin' ta brave the horrible Howlin' Woods, we should know a whole lot more about the evil place. What we seen from road or at night from our bedroom windows warn't enough.

All of us kids, and most of the grownups, called the patch of hardwood forest just outside of town Howlin' Woods. Its actual name is Locci Forest. Locci is a Seminole Indian word that means either black, or spring. It's  chock full of closed canopies. That's where tree tops and bushes knit together so tight that even light has trouble gettin' in, and for sure, moisture cain't get out.

Ancient Seminole Indian legends described Locci as a fearful habitation where hatchco-tcapkoemons (in English, Long-Ears) and demons lived. Long-Ears was a beast the size of a horse with a wolf head and razor sharp teeth. A brave wanderin' into those terrible woods warn't considered brave at all. He was a crazy fool. An insane Indian was a big danger to the entire tribe. What if the brave unwittingly led the night-screamers back to their camp?

Their legends tell of people wanderin' into our small stretch of Florida hardwoods and never comin' out again. Nothin's ever found. No clothes. No remains. Nothin'. Folks go in--and poof--they disappear like they was never born. Erased. That's it. It was a mystery that went unsolved for hundreds, maybe thousands of years. It ain't no accident that Locci, and the Spanish word for crazy (loco) are so similar.

There are ideas, of course. It seems that every Burnsite has a different notion. Some say it's the Bermuda Triangle. Ever'one knows that all kinds of stuff  goes missin' from in there, ships and airplanes mostly. What if instead of a triangle, it's shaped more like a devilfish with a tail that dives off the west coast and runs clear under Florida until its stinger-tip resurfaces in our woods? That's a good notion. I was always partial to that one.

Others believed that monstrous alligators slid out of the borderin' marsh, eased into the woods, and preyed on anythin' they could find. Some believed it was ghosts or evil spirits troublin' the woods. The horrible, illusive, Skunk Man has taken his share of blame. There are the God fearer's point'n at demons, the UFO crowd, and those who favor fairies, elves, or leprechauns. I'm not talkin' about the happy-go-lucky breakfast cereal elves, or Tinkerbell. I'm talkin' 'bout the mean beasties, like Rumpelstiltskin who tricked people and took away their children. Or the witch in the forest who lured children into her gingerbread house, so's she fatten their bodies ta eat 'em.

I didn't want to think about it too much. If'n I got all afraid, I might've chickened out for real. Still, it was important to learn all I could, so's Freck and I could survive there. After all, we didn't wanna die in that awful place. We just wanted to get our momma's back, and fill our empty doughnuts with jelly.

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Our fifth grade teacher, Mizzus Thompson, explained that the canopied areas are called hammocks. "In Locci Forest," she explained as she showed pictures on the overhead projector, "there is a wide mix of trees: spreading Live Oaks, spiky Cabbage Palms, Black Ironwoods with gray trunks and ripply leaves. Poisonwood with its creepy snake-like branches, and straight trunked towering mahogany. There are lots of shrubs too, like polished-leaf, wild-coffee bushes, tall spiked-leafed mahrlberrys, and short-thick myrsine, to name a few.

"A tropical forest hammock cain't burn up. It is protected by a moist leaf litter, fire-resistant plants and trees. In Locci there's a black stream runnin' right down the middle. Then there's marsh between the woods and the gulf. It is just far too moist to ever catch fire and burn."

That was good, if'n we died on our search it wouldn't be from fire, that's for sure.

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I read that canopies are ever shrouded, gloomy, and misty. Howlin' Woods is terrifyin' even in the middle of the day, but at night, all kinds o' black evil rises. Without moonlight, and no stars shinnin', everythin's dark as the inside of Satan's crypt. If'n you didn't have somethin' to light the way like a flashlight or torch (if'n ya could even get a torch to burn in there) ya wouldn't see nothin' at all. Not even your hand in front of your very own face. Imagine this, you could touch your nose with your finger and not even see it comin'.

Howlin' Woods ain't very big. A person could walk right through it to the gulf in half a day or so. It is longer than it is wide. It would take probably a whole day to go from top to bottom, that is if you could get through it without bein' held back by bushes, marsh, and whatever else might keep you from a normal pace. That's the problem. Searchin' the woods for anythin' would take a real long time. First, you could only go in durin' daytime. Second, it is so thick and overgrown that gettin' anywhere got ta be painfully-slow.

Lots of Burnsites, my daddy's age, went into the forest. Not because they wanted to, but because they were scourin' the woods for Jacob Foster. He went missin' some twenty-odd years ago. After experiencin' Howlin' Woods first hand, they was done with it. I've heard tell that no one would willingly go back in there again. Ever' livin' one of them swears it was enough to turn your hair white. I guess I'm safe. My hair's nearly white anyways.

I asked myself, what would cause folks afraid of Howlin' Woods to venture in there? What was there about Jacob Foster that made them do it? I was itchin' to put on my boy detective hat and solve the mystery.

First what did I know? I knew my next door neighbor, Mister Samuels, was one of those who searched 'cuz I overheard him and my daddy talkin' 'bout it once.

One day I saw him mowin' his lawn, I went over and said, " Hi, Mister Samuels, can I ask you 'bout somethin'?

"Sure Wishes what's gnawin' at ya, kid?"

"I heard tell that a long time ago ya went inta the woods with a bunch of other folks lookin' for a man named Jacob Foster."

"Yeah I did, and so did your daddy."

That was news to me. Daddy said nary a word about it. "Mister Samuels what was there about Jacob Foster that would make anyone go out searchin' for him in such a scary place?"

"There's no quick answer to that question, Wishes. For you to understand I'm goin' to have to tell you a kinda long story. Do you have time to sit for a spell?"

Of course I had time. Kids always have time to listen to a story. If we can spend an afternoon watchin' a furry caterpillar mosey across a driveway, we have time for a story, especially if'n it's a good one.

We went into his backyard and sat in his pink and white striped metal springy lawn chairs. "Would you like somethin' ta drink? We have some sweet-tea, or lemonade, already made up in the fr'ige."

That sounded real good to me, so I said all polite, "Yes please. Could I have lemonade?"

"Lemonade for you, and sweet-tea for me."

He went into the house through the slidin' glass patio door, and returned with two full glasses of iced drinks. "Thank you, Mister Samuels," I gratefully said. I meant it too. It was a scorcher of a day and I had a powerful thirst.

He cleared his throat, and began, "I have to start by tellin' ya that Jacob Foster was a town favorite, and my best friend. He was brought here when he was just a baby and left abandoned on the church steps. Nobody ever knew who his real parents were. There was only a few births in the area and those babies were all accounted for. With no known relatives, there warn't no choice but to put him up for adoption. The Fosters didn't have any children of their own. They wanted a baby so bad it made their teeth itch. It was a perfect fit. A true gift from God for them."

"Burns was a bit smaller then," Mister Samuels continued. "Jacob's arrival caused such a stir that ever'body felt as if they adopted him too. It was like he had a whole town of godfathers and godmothers. Course it didn't hurt that he was a dog with no fleas and a very happy disposition. He was like a cuddly puppy who loved everyone, so everyone loved him back. That's what I heard anyway. I cain't say for sure because I was just a kid myself.

"We got to know each other when we started school. My first day of school was pretty embarrassin'. I missed a step goin' up the stairs and fell flat on my face. All the kids, except Jacob, laughed. Jacob came rushin' over and helped me up. He said that he hoped I warn't hurt none. Then he held out his hand and introduced himself, "I'm Jacob Foster. What's your name?" With a handshake and a smile we was best friends.

"He was really smart, and extremely polite. Most everyone said that he was destined for amazin' things. The only problem he ever had was in regards to Em McTee. Her family had moved here just before high school started. Em, short for Emma, had hair the color of a new-born faun, kelly green eyes, and a blemish would kill itself before it would dare show up on her face. She had, and I'm not kiddin', movie star looks. She turned heads wherever she went. Every red-blooded American boy seein' her would immediately fall head-over-heels in love.

When they met, I'd swear on a stack of Holy blessed Bibles, the air crackled like right before a lightnin' strike. The two of them were destined to be together. Everyone in town could see that.

"Everyone could see it, but not everyone liked it. Unfortunately Tyrone Tieg, you know, Butch Tieg's father,  had eyes for her. He didn't like it at all. Not one little bit. Tyrone was a bully and he had the size and strength to back it up. Whatever Tyrone wanted he always got, no questions asked. Anyone foolish enough to put up a challenge would soon regret it. Even the grownups in town gave him wide berth. He was like a red-haired grizzly dressed up in a man suit. He was big, powerful, and cantankerous as all get out. People said he could'a taken on a real live bear, and come out the winner. It was probably true.

"Jacob, on the other hand, was tall and thin, kinda like Jimmy Stewart, the actor in that movie Mr. Smith Goes to Washington. Whenever there was any kinda trouble he was the first there to lend a helpin' hand. Ever'body in town owed him a debt. When they tried to thank him, he'd always say, 'Shucks there's no need to thank me, I was just bein' neighborly. I'm sure you'd do the same for me. I was happy ta help."

"Tyrone and Jacob were like ice cream and flame. They was two magnets with the same poles facin' one another. Try shovin' them together, and pow, the closer they got, the more they pushed away. It's not that Jacob didn't try to make friends with Tyrone. He did. It was Jacob's nature to get along with ever'one. He tried everythin'.

"There was a time in Jr. High that Jacob almost succeeded. He offered to help Tyrone get through biology and Tyrone accepted. He really struggled with every school subject, but science and math were the hardest for him. In some folks, brains and brawn just don't go together. Tyrone had the brawn, but to no one's surprise, was lackin' in the thinker department. There was an old joke that fit him like the peel on an apple. It went, 'When God was passin' out the brains,Tyrone thought he said trains and missed his.'

"It was rumored that Tyrone's momma promised him an airplane trip to visit his favorite uncle in Tennessee, if he could just get a passin' grade in an easy subject like biology. I imagine he got so excited that he almost smiled. I mean, how many kids in Burns had ever gone up in an airplane? He would be the first. It's hard to imagine nowadays how excitin' that was. Today air travel is pretty common, but then in beginnin' of the 1940's it was rare. Only a few lucky people could afford it. His mother socked away some money that she inherited when her grandmother passed. She wanted to do somethin' really special for Tyrone. Besides, if it could motivate him to do better in school, that would be a real bonus.

"Jacob heard about it through the grapevine. He went to Mizzus Tieg and offered to tutor Tyrone for free.

"Jacob showed up at the Tieg's doorstep ever'day after school fully prepared to tutor Tyrone. He worked and worked to get Tyrone through biology. It warn't easy. Drillin' an idea into that thick skull was like trying to pound a ten penny nail into a rock. They spent a whole week on the reproductive system and parts of a flower: stamen, petals, sepal, and carpel. Just when Jacob thought Tyrone had it, his mind drifted away like a dandelion seed in a light breeze. Finally Jacob decided that it was hopeless to continue. He threw in the towel. Of course Tyrone failed biology like he did everythin' else, and blamed Jacob for it.

"Instead of becomin' friends, this fueled Tyrone's hatred. One day Jacob was walkin' Em to her next class. Tyrone was up ahead talkin' with his gang of snarly trouble makers not seemin' to pay any attention to the lovebirds. Just as they got up to him, Tyrone stuck out a foot. Jacob went sprawlin' face down on the floor. Books and papers went every which-a-way. Tyrone's buddies whooped it up and hollered like it was the funniest thing they'd ever seen. That warn't enough for him, though. He put his big size 18 triple-wide foot down on Jacob's skinny butt and declared himself the great white hunter. He posed there like he was on safari and had just bagged a vicious lion.

Then he reached out and made a grab for Em. He was tryin' to wrap his huge orangutan arm around her shoulders and pull her to him to steal a kiss. She warn't having none of it. She wriggled free, kicked him in the shin, then knelt on the floor next to Jacob. She swatted at Tyrone's monstrous foot with her history book. To Tyrone it was no more than a bump by a gnat. She screamed at him to get his big lug of a foot off Jacob or she was goin' to get the principal and make sure he was expelled from school. That hurt. Tyrone had been warned by his daddy that if he got into any more trouble at school, he'd get the beatin' of his life. Tyrone's daddy could do it too. He was just as big and twice as mean.

"After that Tyrone left Jacob alone, at least physically. That didn't stop him from makin' nasty threats and bullyin' him in every possible way.

"Just after graduation from High School, Jacob got a job at the town newspaper. They called him their golden haired boy.

"He was frugal. Every dime he eared he saved. When he had enough, he was plannin' to buy Em a diamond ring. One day he mentioned to me that he had almost reached his goal. Jacob was happier than a cat swattin' at fat goldfish outta a shallow bowl.

"The last anyone ever saw of Jacob he was walkin' at twilight on the road runnin' past the woods. Old Mrs. Wharton spotted him from her wind'a. She said that he was singing a happy, jazzy song, "Is you is, or is you not my baby?" No one saw neither hide nor hair of him after that.

When he didn't come home that night, the Fosters reported him missin'. An urgent call went out the next mornin'. Jacob was missin'! Ever' able bodied person in town turned up to search for him, includin' me and your daddy.

I was the one who discovered a break in the scrub oak bushes borderin' the road. I pointed out the deep shoe tracks leadin' right toward the Howlin' Woods. The very idea that Jacob who knew as well as anybody, the dangers of goin' into that evil place at night, was unimaginable. Jacob just wouldn't do that, would he? But there it was, all the proof we needed was his footprints leadin' straight toward the most dangerous place in the whole world. It didn't matter why he did it, we had to try ta rescue him. The searchin' began every mornin' and always ended well before the sun set. It went on for weeks. We never found nothin'. He was just gone. We were gettin' all discouraged and worn out.

"I have to tell you that if I never go in there again, it wouldn't be too soon. Everythin' smelled of death, decay, rot, and rancid pond scum. It was murky. Marsh rats and every poisonous snake livin' in Florida: copperheads, cottonmouths, rattlesnakes, and the most poisonous of all, coral snakes were ever'where. There were gators in the marsh and all manner of other evil things. Some I didn't even know from Adam. People got stuck in sink holes, tangled in vines, and bug bit, until they was covered from head to toe in itchy red patches. A couple people got snake bit. It was horrible, but because it was our friend Jacob, we persisted.

"People were pretty sure that Tyrone Tieg had somethin' to do with his disappearance. If he did, he didn't leave behind any evidence. Whatever made Jacob leave the safety of the road and go into the woods remains an unsolved mystery to this day."

I had a question, "Mr. Adams, did you hear the Whistlin' Salamander when you were out searchin'?"

"No, Wishes, I didn't, and I don't think anyone else did either. Leastways I didn't hear about anyone havin' that particular experience."

"What about the screams and other noises? Did ya hear any of them?"

"We didn't. Those things only happen at night, and usually on new moon's when it's darkest. No one was stupid enough to stay out lookin' until after sundown. Besides searchin' is exhausting work. I was young then, and even I didn't have the stamina to stay in there much past two o'clock, three at the very latest."

"Mr. Adams," I asked another question, "If ya were goin' into the woods again what would ya take with you?"

He said, eyeing me warily, "Wishes, you ain't thinkin' of venturin' in there are you?"

"Oh no," I lied, "I wouldn't do that for a million, zillion dollars. I'm just curious." I couldn't risk tellin' him the truth and havin' him mention it to my daddy.

"That's good Wishes. There's more evil per square foot in that place than all the murderous Nazi's in Hitler's army. But, if it is just suppose, I guess I would take bug spray, a compass because it's easy to get turned around, a flashlight just in case, a sharp stick or a baseball bat, a knife, a snake bite kit, a small shovel to dig myself out of something if I got stuck, a hatchet or machete, and a crucifix. The crucifix being the most important thing, of course. When faced with pure evil, prayin' is sometimes the only thing ya can do." He made the Catholic sign of the cross on his chest.

If it came down to prayin' I'd better learn how to do it quick, or get myself kilt.