Farmer's Grove Read online

crazy! There's got to be a logical explanation."

  "Such as?"

  "I don't know. Maybe somebody lost their dog."

  "Chanting for their dog?"

  "Calling for their dog. You said yourself it echoed."

  "I'm not buying it."

  "What else could it be?"

  "Oh, now you believe I saw and heard something?"

  "Katie," Tim said, taking me in his arms. "You have to admit that it sounds pretty farfetched. I'm just trying to offer a possible explanation."

  "What if something strange is happening in our woods?"

  "Like what?"

  "Like a secret society."

  "Secret society. Where do you get this stuff?"

  "You said it yourself," I mimicked, pulling away from him.

  "I was kidding! Tell you what. If you see something again, just turn on the back light. That light is so bright it looks like daytime all the way down to the edge of the woods."

  "Ok. I'll do that, but I'm also calling the police."

  "Katie, what if it's one of our neighbors, just cutting through our woods or something? Maybe it's something they've always done. Calling the police could really be embarrassing for all of us."

  "Too bad. They shouldn't be in our woods without asking first. Whatever they did in the past is null and void. We live here now!"

  "Just be careful. We're the new ones in the neighborhood. We haven't even met anyone besides Craig. We don't need everyone mad at us!"

  "Fine. We'll see what happens."

  Eleven

  The following weekend, Tim and I went for dinner in downtown Farmer's Grove. The town was three blocks long! There were two restaurants, a gas station, a pharmacy, several bars and the police and fire stations. I knew that the closest grocery store was ten miles away, the closest shopping center over twenty miles. There was little traffic, and not one stoplight.

  "Wow, this is like culture shock compared to Madison," Tim commented.

  "It's kind of refreshing. Who needs all that noise and fast food places on every corner anyway?"

  The restaurant we chose was small, and looked like it hadn't been updated in decades, but at least it was clean. The menu was limited, but the food was delicious! I tried the chicken and Tim had the meatloaf.

  "This looks like something my mother would have made for Sunday dinner when I was a kid," Tim said.

  "Did you notice they're not open on Sunday?"

  "Wow! You definitely wouldn't see that in Madison."

  It felt good to get out of the house for a while, away from our work. I had finally calmed down about the finger thing. Maybe I had exaggerated the whole thing in my mind after all.

  We finished our meals and when the busboy came to take away our dishes I saw his bandaged thumb. Another coincidence? I motioned to his bandage. "What happened?"

  He looked startled at first, then looked around quickly before answering. "Just a little accident chopping wood. It's no big deal. How was your dinner? Can we get you anything else?" He was obviously changing the subject.

  The image of the strange lights and sounds of eerie chanting came rushing back to me instantly. I felt a little sick. "Can we leave?" Tim took my arm as I walked unsteadily to the car.

  "Katie, you can't keep imagining the worst. He told you what happened. Look at yourself! You're making yourself sick over this finger thing."

  As we walked in the door at home, Tim got a call from Ron. I listened to Tim's side of the conversation with curiosity. It sounded like Ron was inviting him to something. As soon as Tim hung up I asked him about it.

  "He invited me to Men's Club."

  "Men's Club?"

  "That's what he said."

  "What exactly do these men do?"

  "I guess they're playing poker this time. He didn't say much, except that I should come meet some of the guys."

  "Where is this Club meeting?

  "Ron said the members take turn hosting the activities and sometimes they have outings. This one is at Ron's house."

  "Hmmm. I don't see you as the Men's Club type."

  "What is the Men's Club type?"

  "I don't know. Chauvinistic, cigar smoking old guys, telling racist jokes." Lopping off fingers in the woods I thought to myself.

  "That's pretty stereotypical. Come on, Katie. What's the big deal if I go meet some of the locals?"

  "No big deal, I guess. Go to the Men's Club meeting if you want. I don't care."

  "I think you're jealous because no one has invited you to join their club."

  "I am not," I slammed my purse down on the coffee table. "And who says you've been invited to 'join' this club?" I stamped out of the room, not sure if I was a little jealous, or just trying to protect my husband.

  Twelve

  On Friday, Tim went to the Men's Club meeting. As soon as he left, I poured myself a glass of wine. I flipped through television channels trying to find something decent to watch. I finished that glass poured a second. I tried to keep my mind off the Men's Club meeting. I was confused. I was happy that Tim was fitting in, but I was uneasy about this group of men. I didn't trust them like Tim obviously did.

  After a third glass of wine, I came up with a plan. Maybe I'd invite some of their wives over for a little get together. Then I'd casually bring up the fingers. See what I could find out. I finished off the bottle of wine, and went up to bed.

  I must have fallen right to sleep, because less than an hour later, Tim woke me abruptly. "Katie, Katie wake up! You were right! Katie?" He was shaking me.

  "Tim? What's the matter?"

  "You were right!" Tim looked very upset.

  "What's wrong? What time is it?" I sat up in bed, disoriented.

  "About the fingers. You were right. It's not a coincidence!"

  Now he had my attention. "What do you mean?"

  "The fingers - they all had them! I mean they didn't have them. You know what I mean!"

  "Start at the beginning."

  "Well, I got to Ron's house, and one by one the men came over to meet me. I didn't think anything was unusual until we started to play cards. Then I suddenly noticed that the guy dealing had one short finger. I felt the hair on the back of my neck bristle. I couldn't concentrate on the cards. Then I saw another guy's finger, and another! Katie, every guy there was missing a digit! I started to panic. I couldn't look anyone in the eye. I just stared at their fingers! It was crazy. I finally said I had a headache and had to get home. I had to get out of there!"

  "Wow! Tim, if I didn't know you, I'd think you were nuts. If I hadn't see the same things and felt the same way! I just wonder what it all means."

  "I have no idea. Now what?"

  "I don't know, Tim. I guess we just try to forget about it."

  "I'm not sure I can."

  "What choice do you have? Avoid all the men in the town?"

  "I can be cordial, but I don't have to join their club."

  "True. You can be busy next time they invite you."

  "Yes."

  "Well, let's get some sleep. Maybe in the morning it will make more sense."

  "I doubt it, but it's almost midnight. I'm exhausted, but I don't think I can sleep."

  I felt Tim thrashing around and heard him talking in his sleep. He must really be bothered about the fingers. I can't blame him. Why did every man in this town seem to have a digit missing? Was it some weird ritual of the town? What if they did something to Tim? I tried to fall back asleep, and when I finally did, my dreams were riddled with nightmares.

  Thirteen

  We talked about it in the morning, but there was no explanation for the fingers.

  "Maybe you should just ask Ron."

  "I thought of that, but I don't know if I want to hear his answer."

  "You think he'd be honest with you?"

  "Who knows? If it's a secret society thing, I doubt he'd tell me about it."

  "Do y
ou think you're next?"

  "Next?"

  "You know what I mean. Do you think they have something planned for you?"

  "Jeez, I hope not. I won't do it. They can't exactly drag me out of the house against my will."

  "So you think all those guys just let someone lop off their fingers?"

  "True. I don't know what to think. This is all so unbelievable."

  We tried to work on our projects, but sat mindlessly watching television for most of the day instead.

  That night I once again woke up to the chanting and ran to the window. I saw the lights entering our woods. "Tim! Wake up! Tim!" Tim jumped up and ran over to me. He peered out the window. "See? The lights. They look like torches, don't they?"

  "Yes. What' s going on? I'm going out there." He picked up his discarded pants from the floor.

  "What? No! You can't go out there."

  "Why not? It's our property!"

  "Stop! What if that's what they want? Maybe they're baiting you, trying to get you out there. Then they can initiate you." I made a chopping motion with my hand.

  Tim stopped in his tracks. "True. What should we do?"

  "I don't know. Who could we ask? Wait - what about the people that lived here? The Johnson's. If this was happening in the woods before we moved here, they should know something, right? Mr. Johnson especially should know!"

  "Good idea! Maybe that's why they moved. But how do we find them? What do we say if we do find them?"

  "I don't know, but we've got to do something. Maybe we should just call the police."

  "The sheriff was at the meeting. I saw his thumb. He's one of them." Tim ran a trembling hand through his hair.

  I grabbed my laptop from the nightstand and typed in the Johnson's names. "Got them!" I found an address just north of Madison for the couple. I wrote down the phone number.

  "So, what do we say?"

  "I don't know, but I'm going to call first thing in the morning.