Keep Away from the Hills

The wrinkles of Pap’s face scrunched together as he squinted at the horizon. “Chartreuse,” he said after deliberation.

“I’d say it’s more of an emerald,” said Pop from the neighboring rocking chair, picking bits of toffee from his dentures.

“You’re going blind,” Pap answered. “Son, what’s it look like to you?”

Pa, who was a generation younger than the other two, leaned against a porch post enjoying his pipe. “Does it make that much difference?”

“It’s the difference,” grunted Pap, “between toxic spills, UFOs, mutant salamanders, and every other kind of perdition. Now, come on, out with it.”

Pa sighed. “If I had to put a name to it, I guess I’d call it a lime.”

Pop gave a hacking cough. “Every shade in the swatchbook, that’s what we’ve got.”

“What are you all gawking at?” Ma demanded as she bustled onto the porch. “I called dinner five minutes ago.” Pa pointed with the bit of his pipe. Ma looked. From the cliff where their house was built, she could see the town below, and beyond it a horizon lit up by an unnatural radiance. Ma rolled her eyes. “Land’s sake, not again.”

“What color would you say that is?” Pop asked.

“Green.”

“Obviously. But what kind of green?”

“The kind that doesn’t keep your dinner warm for you. Now you three come inside. I’ve got to give Mammy her sponge bath.”

The men headed indoors. When Ma returned from her chore, they were deep into their dinner.

“Aliens,” Pop declared as he pulled a biscuit into easy-to-chew crumbs. “Sure as the shoes on my feet.”

“Oh, Pop,” said Ma, “you’re always saying aliens. We haven’t had aliens in thirty-five years.”

“That you know of,” her father corrected her.

“I reckon it’s somethin’ in the soil,” Pap chimed in. “Maybe come down on a comet or some such. People’ll start growing boils on their eyes by week’s end.”

There came a knock at the door.

“They’re here!” Pop cried with a jump.

“It’s just Larry, Pop,” said Ma, heading to the front door. She opened the door and admitted a husky, clean-shaven man of thirty. “Hello, sweetheart,” Ma sang, taking her boy into her arms.

“Hello, Ma.” Larry came into the house proper and exchanged hellos with the men.

“I have to go help Mammy brush her tooth,” said Ma. “You sit down and have something to eat.”

“So,” Pap began as Larry took a seat. “What are they saying in town?”

“The boy’s barely got his butt in the chair, Pap,” said Pa. “Let him fix himself a plate first.”

“It’s alright, Pa,” Larry said, assembling a meal as he spoke. “Sheriff Bilford is saying there’s nothing to worry about, but also telling folks to stay away from the hills. He and Gibson are gonna go out tomorrow morning to take a look.”

“Callooh callay,” grumbled Pap. “The sheriff and his dim-witted deputy versus the irradiated countryside. Doesn’t he remember the grabbing fungus? Or that jumping slime?”

“John Bilford was a schoolboy when the grabbing fungus came along,” Pa reminded his father, spreading butter over the last golden cob. “I have to confess, I don’t recall the jumping slime.”

“I still say aliens,” mumbled Pop.

“And how,” Pa went on, “can the man tell people to stay away and not to worry in the same breath? You know every kid in town is going to be sneaking into the hills to get a look-see. Wouldn’t be surprised if Mrs. Jones’s class showed up to school on Monday with their faces burnt off.”

“O’course, I wouldn’t wish harm on a living soul,” said Ma, having returned to the dining room, “but if anyone doesn’t have sense to stay away from there, they get what they deserve.”

“Be charitable, Ma,” her father admonished her. “You never showed any sense when you were a youngin.”

“That’s enough out of you,” she replied.

Pa shared a private smile with Larry. The whole discussion was an echo that came wafting back, almost word for word, every few years. Pap had bought this house on the cliff for Ma and Pa two decades prior (then promptly moved in with them). Since then they’d remained at arm’s length from all these small town terrors.

“How’re Shelly and the girls taking it?” Pa asked Larry.

“The littl’n’s skittish. Shelly and Rebecca are taking it in stride.”

“You should bring them up here until the whole thing’s dealt with.”

“I think you’ve got a full enough house as it is.”

“Nonsense!” declared Ma. “Besides, we could use a bit more femininity in the house. I’d like to have some conversation that doesn’t involve football or half-remembered old girlfriends.”

“I’ll talk to Shelly about it,” Larry promised without promising.

* * *

The next day found the men on the porch again, gazing at the effulgence beyond the hills.

“Mutant anteaters.”

“Not this time of year.”

“Tree monsters.”

“Mmm...what about killer moss?”

“You know what I think?”

“Aliens?”

“I’m just sayin’.”

The clouds soaked in the pallor of the glowing hills as the day withdrew. Larry arrived with groceries his mother had asked for, as well as more local news.

“Sheriff and Deputy Gibson never came back,” he said as he helped Ma fill up the cupboards.

“Man had no business going out there,” said Pap with a feeble thump of his fist.

“Couple more people went missing, too,” Larry went on. “Two of the high schoolers, Hank Turner and Norma Jean Francis. Jack’s car was found parked out on lover’s lane. Radio was still playing.”

“Poor kids,” said Pa.

“O’course passing judgment is the Lord’s business,” started Ma, “but decent young people wouldn’t have been out there in the first place.”

“Oh come now, honey,” said Pop, “you were hardly the blessed virgin when I walked you down the aisle.”

Ma flicked her dishcloth at him. “Don’t you talk that way to me in my house.”

Larry continued his report. “Doctor Fetter said he’s going to call in some government men. Meanwhile, George Anderson’s building up a posse to go see things for themselves, and he’s selling everything fifty percent off at the gun store.”

“Good ol’ George,” said Pa with a smirk. “Always making the best of a situation.”

“You talk to Shelly yet about holing up here?” Ma asked.

“We’re going to stay put for now,” Larry answered, a bit sheepishly. “Girls got school and all.”

Ma fixed him with a sideways stare. “You’re not about to go out joining any fool-headed posses yourself, are you?”

Larry shrugged. “I told them I’d help out if they needed me.”

“You won’t set a foot toward those hills,” his mother declared, “for your sake, for the girls’ sakes, for Shelly’s sake, and for your saint of a mother’s sake. Is that understood?”

Larry fidgeted in his seat, embarrassed to get a scolding at his age. “Yes, ma’am,” he grumbled.

“Good,” Ma said. “Now go in and kiss your grandma before I put on her leeches.”

* * *

Over the next couple weeks, the three patriarchs watched from the porch as the horizon continued to glow. Word traveled up that more folks had disappeared from the town below, including George Anderson. The gun store had been raided in his absence, and more than a couple pets had been mistaken for extra-terrestrials and shot in the middle of the night. A couple government men did indeed pay a visit. One never came back from over the hills and the other returned a raving lunatic. Some said his skin had a green shimmer to it as he drove off in his car at ninety miles an hour. After that, no one from the state office would return any calls, which Pap said was typical.

“Reverend Albrecht was deputized this afternoon,” Larry reported one afternoon. “A lot of the able bodied men are gone. Rosa’s book club has taken over the neighborhood watch. Old Mrs. Jenson thought she spied Sam Sheffield wandering around outdoors two nights back—said his skin looked like it was shining green. ‘Course, she also mistook her son’s station wagon for a mountain lion, so take that with a grain of salt.”

“Folks disappearing, people going green,” Pap lamented. “This is worse than that thing that came flopping out of the lake.”

“Or the roach Dr. What’s-His-Name whipped up that ate all the honeymooners at Maddie Gray’s hotel,” said Pop. “Poor thing never recovered after that.”

“Anyone talk to Sam Sheffield?” inquired Pa.

Larry shook his head. “He and the family been indoors the last couple days. Some of us have been patrolling the outskirts of town at night.”

“Didn’t your mama tell you,” Ma interjected, fists on her hips, “to keep well away from those hills?”

“We don’t get close to them, Ma,” defended Larry. “We’re just making sure, you know, things are safe.”

“Safe,” said Ma, “is at home behind a locked door.”

“What’s that thing I seen them building up toward the hills,” inquired Pa, trying to rescue his son from further indignity.

Only slowly did Larry dare break from his mother’s omnipotent gaze and turn to answer his father. “It’s a viewing tower. Some of the science students from the high school got the idea of using a telescope to try to see what’s what.”

“Bunch of darned fools,” huffed Ma.

“Somebody’s got to find out what’s going on.”

“And when they do, what do they suppose they’ll do about it that the sheriff and the government men couldn’t?”

“Then what are we supposed to do?”

“I’ll tell you what. You’re going to get Shelly and the girls and you’re going to stay here with us ‘til things blow over like they always do. I’m not asking anymore, I’m telling.”

Larry let out a long sigh, and Pa recognized with sympathy the frustration of an impotent man. “Alright,” he finally relented.

“And you’re not going near any watch towers or those hills. Understand? Understand?” Larry didn’t speak, but merely nodded.

After dinner, while Ma was busy cleaning Mammy’s ostomy bag, Pa took Larry aside. “I know your mother can be a right pill,” he said in surreptitious tones. “But she’s worried. Everybody’s worried at a time like this.”

“I just don’t like not being able to do anything.”

“I understand. Believe me, I do. Sometimes, there’s just nothing to be done. So please, for your Ma’s sake, just do as she asks, bring the girls tomorrow, and don’t go meddling.”

“Yes, Pa,” Larry grumbled.

* * *

It was late the next evening when Larry, his wife, and their two daughters arrived, luggage in tow. The littlest toted a stuffed bear through the door with her, and Ma scooped her into a giant hug. “Look at you, you little giant!” she said, tickling the girl. “I sure missed you.”

“Thank you for putting us up,” Shelly said as she set down her bags of clothes. “You’re really too kind.”

“Not another word about it,” said Ma. “Now girls, why don’t you come with me and we’ll file Great Grandma’s warts.”

Pa noticed a grim look on his son’s face as he hung up the girls’ jackets. “Running a little late,” he said. “Your mom was starting to worry.”

“Yeah,” answered Larry. “Had a few things needed taking care of before we left. Lost track of time.”

“Everything alright?” Pa asked.

“Uh-huh,” was the answer he got. Larry seemed off, but Pa chose to let it go.

Ma had spent the day preparing dinner. She beamed as the whole family, all four generations, gathered around the table. “Pa,” she said, “why don’t you say grace?”

Everybody folded their hands. Pa was about to begin when his eyes happened on the knuckles of Larry’s interlaced fingers. Just beneath the skin, subtle but unmistakable, was a glitter of green light. The men locked eyes. A grim apology was written on the son’s face.

Pa let out a heavy sigh. “Oh, Larry.”