authorjeffbaker

The Ire Of the Mountains

by Jeff Baker

(A Bryce Going Story)

After I left Lake Mannakopa I headed North a few miles into Canada.

Sneaking into Canada with no I.D., using a fake name and age was a lot easier than I thought it would be that August of 1976. The trick was, or course, avoid the roads and any border crossings. In fact I wasn’t sure I was in Canada until I actully walked onto a road and saw a road sign. Then I saw another one pointing to a place called “Coal Lake.”

I’d been walking all day and hadn’t dared catch a ride so the nearest town sounded like heaven.

I walked into town about Midnight, raided a restaurant trash can for food (I was getting used to that, but still didn’t like it!) and crashed-out behind a low, dark building just outside town that didn’t have any lights on it. And that was actually where I had some good luck.

I woke up with a start to find it was daylight and a tall man with a reddish beard and a ballcap was staring at me.

“Uhhhh…hi!” I managed. “Um, I’m sorry If I’m like on your property, I’m kind of new in town and don’t have anyplace to go. Or any money.”

The man shrugged and extended a hand.

“Eddie MacDowell,” he said in a raspy voice. “You need a job?”

My jaw about dropped. I nodded and told him my name was Bryce Going (it wasn’t) and that I was twenty-three (sixteen, but I could pass) and I really could use a job.

He asked me if I was any good with tools.

I said I was okay. Which was a big lie but I was a fast learner.

Two years on the road as a closeted, big-for-my-age Gay runaway had made me pretty adaptable.

Eddie laughed and said “Okay, we’ll show you. C’mon. I’ll unlock the place and make coffee.”

I hadn’t gotten a good look at the building last night. It was one of those metal things that looked like a barracks you’d see in a war movie. Metal curved over into an arch shape with the ends shut up with windows and a door. Oh and concrete flooring.

Inside it was about as big as a four car garage which it essentially was. There were car parts all around and Eddie said he worked on them here. He kept talking as he made the coffee.

“You’re probably wondering where the lake is,” he said. “Well, it’s about ten miles north of here. They just needed a name about a hundred twenty years ago. This time of year, the lake looks as dark as…well…as this”

Eddie handed me a styrofoam cup of coffee. It tasted good.

“There’s stories about Coal Lake,” he said.

Uh, oh, I thought.

“It’s dark as coal because they say that the spirit of the lake left a long time ago. At least that’s what the Tribes used to be around here said. But they left too.”

I was starting to get a prickly feeling. I’d worked part of Spring and Summer at a lake and I’d seen a sea serpent. And a real cute guy. One of them gave me nightmares.

Eddie laid it out for me. He and a buddy of his did repair work here and they also “procured” special auto parts for other customers who could afford it. He said he was a good judge of people and that I wouldn’t squeal.

Besides I’d admitted to him I was in the country with no documentation at all early on when I was babbling after just waking up.

So we made a deal. I would haul stuff, help with some basic stuff, keep my trap shut and in exchange I could sleep in the back room and he’d pay me under the table.

It worked out well for a couple of weeks. None of the shady customers looked shady and he did pay me and the job wasn’t bad and I was sleeping on a cot which was sort of a bed, which was better than the ground.

Late one night, I was trying to sleep when there was a rumbling. I thought it was thunder. I got up, went through the shop and looked out the back window. I saw stars, clear night sky and the startlit hills in the distance. I went to the front window and was just to where I could see the lights of the little town when the building gave a lurch and I fell onto the floor, tools clattering off the workbench beside me. I managed to stand up, regain my balance and then I grabbed the workbench which was bolted to the floor and to the wall. I could see the windows of the big garage door in front of me but all I could see were stars. And the floor was swaying.

Holding on to the bench I went to the window. I had some idea that the building had been hit by an earthquake and was tilted at an angle. But when I looked out the window, I saw the town at a far distance below where I was, like I was on a hill. Then the town seemed to swerve out of sight, no; the building had turned. I clutched the workbench as the room swayed and bobbed. At one point I almost banged my face against the window but in those moments I looked down.

There was something huge, something tall under the garage and it was moving. No, it was walking!

I saw feet, dark legs lit by starlight and arms swaying the way they do when someone is walking along. There was a huge figure walking and the garage was on top of it. The garage I was in!

I hung on for dear life!

I glimpsed the tops of distant hills passing buy and after a bit (I had no idea how fast this walker traveled) we very definitely turned right. I kept hanging on to the bench, even though the ride was much smoother now. I had a momentary flash of jumping out of the garage to the ground. But I didn’t know how far it was and I didn’t like the idea of being stranded, or stepped on.

Or eaten.

After a bit, we slowed down. Then the walker stopped. And then, I felt us lowering as if it was stooping down. I was able to glimpse through the windows a clear, dark surface reflecting stars. Coal Lake! Reflecting the garage on top of a tall, dark figure with a face just under the garage, in deep shadow. (I was greatful for that. I didn’t want to see the face!)

I glimpsed enough of an arm and a human-like hand, but somehow more brutish reach down into the lake and scoop some of the water up. It was getting itself a drink!

I hung onto the bench and tried not to make a sound. It didn’t know I was up there.

After a few more moments it rose and I was able to gather re-traced its steps, eventually winding up in the spot the garage had been on the dirt road just outside of town. Then there was the rumble again and I am gathering the walker sank down into the ground again, leaving the garage where it had been.

I should have run but I kept imagining the thing rising out of the ground and coming after me.

I managed to stagger back to bed.

Usually I was up early but not that next morning. Eddie banged on the door of the storeroom I slept in and woke me up.

“Are you all right?” Eddie asked me. “I saw the stuff out there, looks like we had another earthquake.”

“Earthquake?” I managed to say. Then I shook my head. “Breakfast. I need breakfast.”

We were sitting at a table in the small cafe in the town that catered to truckers and Eddie was telling me that there were earth tremors in the area every once in a while. One of the men working in the back kitchen had come out for a donut and stopped to listen.

“Tremors.” I mumbled, not sure what to say.

“Fault line more’n likely,” said our waitress. “Been happ’nen for years and years.”

“You know,” said the trucker in the booth across from us. “Some of the Native peoples blame local earthquakes on the Agrimathaa. Supposed to be a big giant that hid from the other giants.”

“I heard that,” the man from the kitchen said. “And the Natives I know say that’s not a real legend. That Whites made it up. They say ‘Agrimathaa’ isn’t an Inuit name.”

“Yeah, it’s like that funny whatsit-name that guy who was here two years ago was trying to find out about? What did he say? ‘Law-Done-Edge’ or something like that. Stuff about Old Ones…”

“Well, my Daddy said something about the ire of the mountains…” someone else said.

I stopped listening. I had an idea of the kind of thing that I’d seen and been carried by. So I hit up one of the truckers for a ride, saying I was in Canada by accident since I’d heard him say they were going back to the States.

I caught the ride. I slept most of the way. No nightmares.

—end—

AUTHOR’S NOTE: It’s been a while since Bryce Going wandered into this page. The adventure he refers to is here: Hear “The Rubaiyat of Joseph Zachary Barstow” for Friday Flash Fics. By Jeff Baker, May 6, 2022. | authorjeffbaker