Chapter 6: Entering Locci

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School was gettin' ready to let out for summer. My birthday was a week away and Daddy asked what I'd like for a present. I told him hip-waders. "Hip-waders?" He looked a little confused, "Why would you want hip-waders?"

"So I can wade out searchin' for tads in ponds," I lied again. It seems like fibbin' was gettin' to be a habit with me. "And," I said, "a waterproof flashlight would be good too."

Daddy looked at me a little suspiciously. "Are you sure, Wishes? I know you've been lookin' at new bikes in the Sears catalog."

He was right. I had been lookin' at bikes. A bright red Schwinn Panther II with 3 speeds would make me the envy of every kid in town. It all came down to gettin' a new bike, or findin' out what happened to my momma.

It would be real easy if'n I had to choose between a piece of delicious chocolate cake or a poke in the eye. I really wanted that red beauty. I could just imagine myself cruisin' downtown wavin' at all the kids who were wishin' they was me, but I just had ta find that salamander. I couldn't rest easy if'n I didn't do it. I had to bite my cheek and say, "No Daddy, my old one is good enough. B'sides I'm almost growed up and it won't be long until I can get a driver's license." I really had to stretch for that one. It was one hum-dinger of a whopper, but what else could I do? I couldn't tell him the truth. Our search for the Whistlin' Salamander had to be kept secret. So, if tellin' a bald-faced whopper from time to time protected our secret, then it just had to be done.

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I told Freck about what Mister Samuels said about Howlin' Woods. We set about gatherin' the necessary supplies for our adventure. From my room I got my sturdy Louisville Slugger bat. I slipped into the tool shed and found a hatchet, a foldin' shovel that daddy bought from the war surplus store, two canteens in canvass holsters with belts, a four battery flashlight (just in case I didn't get one for my birthday), and a compass. The compass was in a rusty old metal case, but looked like it would do the job. I tested it by turnin' in a circle while watchin' the pointer.

Freck got the snake bite kit and the bug spray. Since neither of us was Catholic we didn't have no crucifix.

"Whadda ya think Freck? Can we do without the cross?"

Freck said, "I dunno, maybe we could make one. It's only two sticks nailed together. One acrost the other. We should consider some other protections too. We're headin' into a mysterious, dangerous place, after all. I was thinkin' about a four-leaf clover, a rabbit's foot, maybe a horseshoe, but the horseshoe would probably be too heavy with all this other stuff we're takin'."

That got me to thinkin'...hmm..what other things ward off evil? After some hard noodlin' I said, "Do you think we could get some holy water?"

"We could," Freck answered, "but If'n we asked Father Sanchez for holy water, it would raise suspicions for sure. He might call our daddies to find out what we was up to. I don't know if we dare ask for that."

I thought about it and responded, "Maybe there's a way we could sneak into the church and quiet-like borrow some."

She scowled at me and said, "That would be stealin'. If we stole the holy water we'd be breakin' a commandment. You know, Thou shalt not steal, and since we got it committin' sin, it might drain its power. We might as well get water outta mucky ol' ditch. Or maybe it would be even worse than ditch water. Maybe our theft would make it backfire. It might cause somethin' worst ta happen. We cain't take that chance."

That made sense ta me. How could committin' a sin while at the same time askin' for God's help, possibly work? I decided that Freck must be right. I asked her, "If'n we could build a cross, do ya think we could make holy water?"

She tugged her pigtail like she usually did when ponderin'. "Maybe. In my church we don't have a priest to bless the water, but my pastor says that everyone has the right to pray for God's blessin's. What if we got some water and asked for God to bless it ta make it holy?"

"Freck," I asked, "what kinda water?"

"I suppose it ought'a come from somethin' pure, like a runnin' stream, or natural spring." She was thinkin' real hard now. I could tell 'cuz she was twistin' that pigtail tight and lookin' up like she was tryin' ta see inside her own head. "I don't imagine that the black creek runnin' through Locci Forrest would suffice. It's probably contaminated by all the evil livin' in there. But...ain't there a natural spring on the Fosters farm?"

I smacked my forehead. "You're right Freck, I remember my daddy pointin' it out ta me. And it's not too far from the road. I don't think we'd be trespassin' if we reached through the split rail fence and dipped a bottle inta the spring." It was settled then, we were goin' ta make our own crucifix and holy water. We could use one canteen for drinkin' water, and the other for holy water. We had to be darn sure we didn't get confused over which one was which. Who knows what drinkin' holy water would do to a person? It might make them so churchy they'd commence preachin' ta ever'body they came across. Heaven forbid!

"And what about salt, Wishes? I've seen in movies where people protected themselves by makin' a circle of salt and standin' in it. We wouldn't have to steal salt either. We can get what we need from our homes."

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We'd never been so anxious in our lives for school to get out. I did get hip-waders and a waterproof flashlight for my birthday. I already had a green, furry, rabbit's foot on a key chain that my granddaddy gave me. Freck had a four-leaf clover she found a ways back and kept pressed in wax paper inside her family bible. I scooped up some spring water from the Foster farm in a quart cannin' jar and carefully carried it ta my backyard. I handed it to Freck and said, "Ya better do the prayin' Freck, me and my daddy don't go to church much." So Freck said a prayer askin' for God's blessin'.

Freck built the cross from scraps of wood she found in her daddy's workshop. With all the charms, holy protections, and the other supplies we'd gathered, we was ready. In the garage we found some old army-surplus canvass backpacks. We stuffed everythin' in includin' my hip-waders and my new waterproof flashlight. On the last day of school, Freck and I got together ta talk about when we was leavin'.

"I think," Freck said, "that we should go first thing in the mornin' right after our daddies leave for work."

Since my house was the closet to the woods, this is where we decided to meet. There was a loose, swingin' board on the backyard fence. We planned ta ease ourselves through it, and be right in the field between the road and the woods. Nobody pickin' up their newspaper, walkin' their dog, or takin' out garbage would see us. Two kids with backpacks goin' toward Locci Forest, even in daytime, would raise eyebrows. We didn't want our adventure to end before it even began.

The fallow field used to be a farm. No one had worked it for years and years, because it borders the awful Howlin' Woods. The previous owners got spooked. They moved far away to somewheres safer. Since then it laid empty. It ain't been tilled for so many years that the ground was pretty hard. That made it easy to walk on. It didn't keep the weeds from growing, though. Most warn't a problem, but we had to keep our eyes peeled for stingin' nettle. One careless touch and ya'd think ya'd been stung by a bee. I know from one painful experience. It only takes one. If we happened on a patch of that awful, nasty weed we'd go around it.

It wasn't a long trek to the woods. We made it there in under fifteen minutes, even with the weeds and all. Before going in we stopped. I asked Freck, "Are we really sure we want to do this?"

Her eyes were firm as she explained, "It isn't a matter of want to, it's matter of have to. We don't actually have a choice no more do we?" She was right. We already made that decision. This was not the time for wafflin'. This was go time.

We took deep breaths and bravely stepped into the terrifyin' Howlin' Woods. A journey of a thousand miles begins with the first step accordin' to a Chinese sayin'. The first is always the hardest.

We were barely ten feet in before we got our first fright. I stepped on a dead tree branch that jumped up like deadman's arm reachin' out to grab us. In the silence it cracked loud as a shotgun blast. There was scuttlin',and rustlin' in the bushes. Somethin' real mean lookin' with coal black spiky hair jumped out. My heart leaped up inta my throat. I was so scared that I couldn't speak, or move. At first it ran right at us but then turned suddenly and ran hell-bent-for-leather the other way. It was about the size of a small dog. Whatever it was, I ain't ever seen its likes before. I did catch a glimpse of angry red eyes and sharp pointed tusks. As it ran it made squealin' noises. Maybe it was a javelina (wild pig). They are rare in southwest Florida, but I heard tell that we have them. If it was a javelina speedin' away, it could be a problem for us. Those pigs mostly travel in packs, and if cornered, they run fearlessly at the ones pursuin' them. There ain't a hunter that's not afraid of bein' gored by those sharp tusks.

They mostly eat acorns. People ain't on their diet. Ya wouldn't be eaten, leastwise not by them. The smell of fresh blood would ring a dinner bell to other nearby carnivores. You could be sorry as all get out for hunting javelina, but sorry wouldn't save you. We were lucky, so far it was just the one, and it was pretty far away by now, but what if it went to get its clan and come back? That was a chillin' thought.

I looked over at Freck. She was white as a slice of fresh Wonder Bread. She had the cross in her hands and was moving her lips like she was saying a prayer. "Fr...Freck," I stammered, "are you all right?"

"I...I...I'm just startled. That's all, Wishes."

I noticed that my hands were shakin' too, like I'd been swimmin' a long time in cold water. "Do we go on?" I asked through chatterin' teeth.

"Of course, we hafta go on. We cain't let a little fright like this make us turn 'round. There's a salamander to get, and we ain't gonna stop now."

We gave ourselves a minute to calm down. "Can you pass the canteen?" I asked her. "That scare really dried my mouth." She was carryin' the one with drinkin' water, and I had the one with holy water. It was only fair, she carried the cross, so's I got the holy water. We each had a churchy item. She had the four-leaf clover, and I had the rabbit's foot. We each brought our own cartons of salt. When dealin' with demons and such, ya can't have too much salt, can ya?

I resolved that from now on I was goin' ta pay more attention to where I placed my feet. I couldn't go around makin' loud noises and tippin' off whatever was in here. Maybe the bad things would see us as food instead of threats, and attack instead of runnin' away like the wild pig did. Becomin' a monster's supper was not our plan.

We looked each other in the eye, nodded our heads, and proceeded. The ground was gettin' mushy. We stopped by a downed tree trunk. It was handy to sit on while I struggled into my hip-waders. They ain't that easy to get on especially over wet shoes. Freck had thought ahead and brought some rubber galoshes. She pulled them on over her already muddy shoes. "B'fore we go any further," She said, "let's spray ourselves with this bug repellant."

Nobody likes the smell of that stuff, least of all the bugs. If we didn't want to get bit from head to tail we'd better make sure we were sprayed. Not only would gettin' bug bit be uncomfortable, but how would we s'plaine how it happened?

I pulled up the straps on the waders, then flew up like I'd sat on a tack. Good Lord! There was somethin' inside my waders with me. It was wriggly! I yelled while frantically tryin' to shuck off the waders, "Freck, somethin' gotten in here with me! It crawled inside my waders! What if it bites me? I might die!

She rushed over and helped me pull the waders off. We turned them feet up and shook. Sure enough a small green garter snake plopped out and slithered away.

"It's just a garter snake Wishes!" Freck laughed with relief. "You're okay. Ya ain't gonna get killed. Leastways not by that little guy."

Ever'one knows garter snakes ain't poisonous. Still the thought of a snake in my britches was really scary. I don't like snakes. Not at all. What if it was somethin' venomous? It could'a been.

Thank the stars and garters I was okay, but two scares on our very first trip in was more than I could take. My heart was beatin' hard as a rock-n-roll drummer. Freck didn't seem none too calm neither.

We looked over at each other hopin' that the other one would say it first. The first to say it would be called chicken. After an uncomfortable stretched out silence we both blurted, "Let's go home."

And so we did.

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