The Blackberry
By Judith Cullen
© 2014
Continuing . . .
“The whole genus has
power issues, I think,” Cara muttered.
“Come with me,” Dave
reached out a hand to Cara and both she and Marcy followed him upstairs. He
paused in the hallway to grab a pair of binoculars and the three of them
mounted two flights of stairs to the top
of the Hall’s home.
The top floor was
one open room under the eaves, with storage and some work areas for both Marcy
and Dave. At one end there were French
doors that opened onto a small balcony which overlooked Cara’s yard. They were just high enough that they could
see over Cara’s small house to the lot beyond.
Dave handed the binoculars to Cara.
“Take a look,” he
said.
What Cara saw
stunned her. In the center of the small
lot was a point from which all the many tendrils of blackberry seemed to
originate. From this view it looked like
a great green, thorny maw with hundreds of green arms, reach out in all
directions. It reminded her of the mouth
of a giant squid, or the mythical beast the Kraken. She looked to Dave for an explanation.
“I would normally
say that nature is inherently benign, that the universe is in a continual cycle
of creation which is ultimately positive and productive. That is the tradition that I was raised with. But,” he paused, looking long at the mass of
the blackberry, “even I have to admit that now and then something is spawned
that is beyond nature itself. I have
never seen anything like that plant before, not in all my years studying the
flora of this region.”
“Are you saying that
blackberry is evil?” Cara pressed.
Dave was clearly
uncomfortable with the question. “I am
not sure what I am saying, actually. But
there is something odd about those canes that is not quite right, something which
I cannot resolve through nature.”
“Can we get rid of
it?”
“Who would we
complain to? The lot is owned by a
holding company. We’d be hard pressed to
get them to do anything. Hopefully, they
will find a buyer for it and the plant will be eradicated in whatever
follows. I don’t think there is much we
can legally do, and the county has countless locations that are overgrown, exactly like this. They are not about to start interfering,
especially if someone tries to make a case to them about possessed flora.” Dave smiled at Cara who returned his gaze
with worry in her eyes.
“Maybe I shouldn’t
have told you the story,” he continued, “I hoped it might amuse you. Just try and keep your yard clear of it and
hope for the best. You’ll be all right.”
***
It didn’t turn out
to be as easy as that. For every cane of
blackberry Cara lopped off, it seemed like three more topped the fence over
night. She had to upgrade from the
loppers to scythe which she borrowed from the Hall’s to fight the canes. It was an ongoing war, with Marcy finally
bringing Cara her own jar of the herbal salve to combat the continual
scratches. Cara took to wearing long
sleeves and her longest skirts to work.
She would only let Kiley play in the front yard, and then, only when there
was some one to watch her. Sprinkles was
confined to the house, which did not go over well as the cat felt entitled to
wander and police its territory. She sat
at one door or the other, in turn, looking hopeful to be let out and howling
when she was not.
It all cut loose one
evening when Sprinkles escaped out the kitchen door and into the back
yard. Kiley raced out after her. They had just finished the dinner dishes and Cara
was in the front of the house turning on the living room lights as the sun set.
She did not realize what had happened until she heard a piercing scream from
Kiley.
“Sprinkles!
Sprinkles! You let her go! Let her go!
OOOOOooooowwwwwww! Noooooooooooo!”
And then the words
any parent would dread: “Help,
Mommy! Help me!”
Cara ran to the back
door, her heart slamming in her throat when she saw the cat entwined in
blackberry vines, clawing and spitting as it was being pulled up and over the
fence. Kiley was just three feet from
Sprinkles, her arms half wrapped in plant, and being viciously pulled after the
cat. Cara grabbed the scythe from where
she’d hung it above the kitchen door, out of Kiley’s reach, and flew to the
fence. She hacked at the blackberry,
screaming at the top of her lungs, desperate to free her daughter, and the cat.
Marcy and Dave heard
the screaming and came running, followed swiftly by both Roger and his brother
Dan. Marcy pulled Kiley away just as
Cara hacked her free. Dave grabbed the scythe from Cara. Together he and the
boys freed the cat. They all pulled back
to the center of the yard and watched the hacked ends of the blackberry make a
slithering retreat over the fence.
Kiley was weeping,
as the boys pulled wilting vines free of the exhausted cat.
“Let’s go in the
house.” Dave said quietly and they all trooped into Cara’s kitchen. Marcy began to bathe Kiley’s scratches, which
wasn’t easy. For one thing, no one
seemed in a hurry to turn on any lights.
Secondly, though the child had stopped crying she refused to let go of
Sprinkles, who was being cradled in her arms.
Marcy finally started bathing them both together and applying salve as
she could.
Cara splashed water
on her face, toweled it off, took a deep breath and turned to face them
all. “Thank you,” was all she could
manage to say. She looked directly at
Dave, “No one will believe us, you know.
Even though there are five of us who saw that thing, and what it was
doing to them.”
“Six!” Kiley piped
with a sniff.
Cara kept her gaze
on Dave, “You know they won’t believe us.”
“I know.” He looked thoughtful for a few moments,
considering what he’d just seen and what he knew about the situation.
He walked over to
the closet by the back door, “Is this where your yard tools are kept?”
He knew she didn’t
have a basement or an outdoor shed.
“Yes”
He opened it and
rummaged through it in the semi-darkness, drawing out a stout garden rake with
thick, strong tines – the old fashioned kind.
“This ought to do
it. Do one of you boys have a lighter on
you?” he asked, not explaining how he suspected that one of them did.
Dan put his hand in
his pocket, drew it out and held up the contents. “Two,” he said.
“Cell phone?” Dave
asked.
“Right here,” Roger
replied.
Dave turned to
Cara. “Is your pile of yard waste still
sitting there by the bins?”
“Yes, I had thought
to compost some of it before all this started.
Then I just …”
“Don’t worry,” Dave
broke in, “I think this can work. It’s
going to be more than a little dangerous, but I think given what has happened
tonight sitting idly by and waiting for someone to take us seriously is not a
workable option. Cara’s right, no one
will believe us.”
He beckoned to the
boys and Cara broke in, “No. You’re not leaving me out of this. It’s my fence, my cat, and my child. I want in on this.”
Dave smiled and the
four of them moved together. He blew a kiss
in the direction of his wife. “Stay
here, my Love, and take care of Kiley and her furry friend. We may all need
healing yet.”
He turned and murmured
instructions, handing the rake to Cara and grabbing her snow shovel from the
closet before all four of them moved to the back door.
“Be careful!” Marcy
called after them.
***
Cara was raking the
last of the bramble waste onto the shovel, which Dave held as flat as possible
and tamping it into a wad of bracken and dried leaves.
“Have you got it
all?” he said under his breath.
“I think so”
“Okay. Dan, ready?”
“I’m ready.”
“Roger, remember not
until I say so. Understand?”
“Understood.”
“Okay everyone, here
we go. Light me up!”
Dan rushed forward
and flicked his lighter, rolling the flame as large as possible to light the
great ball of dried and drying canes and leaves that Cara had raked into a
great big mass on top of the snow shovel.
“Keep it low, so it
will burn up,” Dan counseled.
Cara found herself
dancing nervously back and forth on her feet, as Dave watched the flames crack
and spread on top of the shovel. He
waited until almost the entire mass was a blaze before she saw him count off a
silent “three, two, one” and launch the fiery missile over the fence towards
the center of the blackberry, where they’d seen what looked like a green maw.
They heard it
crackle when it landed and almost immediately there was a painful, high-pitched
squealing.
A column of flame
shot straight up in the air, and the four of them pushed back against Cara’s
house. The squealing reached a crescendo
in one epic shriek before the column of flames collapsed.
“Now!” Dave shouted
to Roger, who pressed “send” on his cell phone.
“911 Emergency? Yes, I would like to report a fire at 24001
Crescent Circle. There’s an overgrown lot in flames. Yeah, It looks pretty wicked. You’d better hurry.”
He answered
questions, finishing the call.
Cara looked back to
the kitchen windows to see Marcy and Kiley, noses pressed to the glass watching
the flames with big eyes.
The squeal of the
Blackberry slowly died away, replaced by the wail of the truck sirens as the
Fire Department made its way towards them, through the darkening night.
##
By Judith Cullen
© 2014
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