Double Dare You

In Northeast Lake Country, Illinois, in the fall of 1969, the local news consisted of intriguing events. Bingo night results, political infighting, who got arrested for DUI, or worst, an auto accident, and of course, the highlights from the most recent football game between the Round Lake High School Panthers and some other High School team in the area.

Heck, what would you expect from a small-town rural newspaper?

But, in October 1969, just weeks before Halloween, everything changed. An article appeared in the paper about some wild animal attacking cars parked in a very secluded area in a town about hours' drive from our school.

I witness accounts stating that the monster had large angry yellow eyes and a scream that turned one's blood to ice.

Thursday night arrived, and I found myself with my friend Steve driving in a totally opposite direction than the places we typically haunt. The wasn't much to do around our small town and so going to the bigger towns was, I guess, an act of either maturity or rebellion.

"Hey, where are you headed?"

Steve turned his head, and I saw the grin.

In a second, I knew exactly where we were headed.

No… Thoughtfully, I stared at Steve. I grinned back, "OK, let's go."

About an hour later, we had reached Mc Henry, Illinois. Drove through the center of town and soon forest and farmland started to replace the buildings. The darkness on that moonless night was our only companion as we reached the road we were looking for. Steve had turned off the car radio somewhere along the way, and despite the cold, we had the car windows open.

Bull Valley Road.

I don't know how the road got its name. The area consisted of farms, pastures, a few houses, and a cemetery. The rest, and for that matter, the majority of the land was densely wood. Trees outlined each side of the roadway.

According to the newspaper article, there was a monster lurking…waiting.

Steve turned to me.

"Ready"?

I looked out the windows. At the intersection, the road itself was in total darkness. Even the air was void of any sound. Growing up in rural Illinois, there was always sound. The usual sounds of crickets or a cry from a blackbird. The swoosh of distance traffic. Even the occasional plane.

But, on that night. On that road. There was only the cold clear air of fall and total darkness. That darkness, that road seemed to beckon us. There was no turning back.

"Ya, let's go!"

Steve started the car and turned onto Bull Valley Road. The darkness closed in behind us as the road dipped downward. The road was asphalt, and the vehicle moved quickly downward, picking up speed as we went.

Fog materialize and soon engulfed us as we drove deeper into the valley. My eyes shifting back and forth, windshield to passenger window, like some pinball machine, trying to see beyond what was visible within the beams of the car's headlight.

Suddenly, Steve swore as he slammed on the brakes. My head jerked forward as my body hit the glove box.

Up ahead of us, the road made a sharp L turn. On the far side, the car lights revealed two stone pillars that stood guard to the entrance of an old cemetery.

A long iron gate blocked the entrance. The front of Steve's Mustang had stopped a cat's whisker from hitting the gate.

Something is unsettling about a cemetery at night. Steve had turned off the engine, and we sat there, not saying a word, just staring into the blackness, into the graveyard. The fog seemed thicker and seem to be reminding us that it wasn't done with us yet.

I guess we both thought we had found the reason for the silence. One had to be alive to make sound, and behind that gate, there was no one. Well, no one is alive. We came close…dam close to meeting them.

Finally, Steve found his voice or just returned to the present.

"You, OK?"

"Hey, you, OK?"

"Ya…Ya, sorry, you?"

Steve took a deep breath and let it out. Nodding.

"Should we continue?'

His question was met with silence. I wasn't sure what to say.

"Well?" He asked.

I turned and looked at him. Our eyes met, and I replied.

"Ya, we're here. Let's see what else this place has."

Steve started the engine and back up and made the turn. We move more cautiously past the cemetery. The farmland continued along the driver's side of the car. Perhaps, that was where the bulls were kept. On my side, the fog seemed to fade as we went, and I was just about to mention it to Steve when we came to an intersection. The main road continued straight ahead.

But to our right laid an opening, huge branches Crisscross above creating a darkened tunnel. The car's lights shone into the tunnel. But not far. It was black as coal itself. A road that led into the deepest area of the forest. If the story of the monster was real. This had to be the place.

Steve stopped the car.

"Well????"

"Well, I repeated. We made it this far. Let's go-but slow."

His hands hesitated, and then he turned the steering wheel, and we moved forward. Forward into the tunnel into the dark road I have ever been on. The road was narrow. Barely wide enough for two cars to pass.

The article said that the area was used as a lover's lane. If so, they would have to go by feel because you couldn't even see your hand in front of your face.

The woods close in around us. The fog was gone, but so was one's view of the stars. It was like someone aligned the road with trees a long time ago, and over the years, their branches Crisscross above, creating a natural canopy.

The beams from the headlight did little to cut into the darkness. The car inched its way forward. Each time it looked like we were on a straightaway, the road curved one way or another. I could hear Steve's breathing grow louder as we made it through another section of the woods. I don't remember how long we were in there or how far we went in.

"How far do you want to go?" I asked.

"Do you think we should turn around?" Steve replied.

"Well, I think we would be better off in town, getting something to eat and checking out the girls."

He laughed.

"OK, let me find a safe place to turn around."

Steve finally found a place a couple miles up the road. He turned around, and it seems that we made a better time leaving the area than it took to get in there.

We never saw or heard the monster that night. The story has gone from legend to folklore.

I kept the newspaper clipping for the longest time. Finally, about 25 years later, I would give it to the McDonald's built at that intersection. But, after a long search, I failed to find it. So just like the monster. It became just a happy memory from my teenage years.