THE GIFT

CHAPTER ONE

No significant changes occurred in the quiet valley community after their encounter, after their passing. The only changes that were detectable were those in the life of John Davidson.

The community sat at the foothills of the Great Rocky Mountains. It was a small, friendly town bordering the Pacific Time Zone. This was John’s home. This had been his home all of his life.

He often wondered why the visitor chose him, but after the outcome, he tried to forget the whole affair.

His house was identical to every other two-story wood-frame house planned by the contractors in the late sixties, the West’s booming years. The house offered no more excitement than any other.

The valley lay tranquil in the mornings. Kissed by the early arrival of the sun, the day was clear and disguised nothing. The valley was naked for all to see. An early buzz of traffic only suggested the existence of other people, but John saw few of them during the day. He loved the early dawn. Filled with newness and the promise of a day of untried things.

Unlike the day, John dreaded the night with its specters, vapors, and things that went bump in the night. Those hours held many unwanted visitors that made their way into his bedroom during his sleeping moments. The only exceptions to this simple life were Barb and Jessie, his friends.

On Monday, June 12, 1976, an evening much like all the others, turned out to be a turning point in John’s life. John’s fundamental beliefs were to be shaken.

Fog formed in the low-lying area in the valley. The wind moved it slowly with unseen breaths to the gates of the inhabitant’s yards. There it asked permission to cross the newly mowed lawns between the locked gate and the front doors. The guests gathered once again to discuss the school bill issue. It would mean more axes, but it meant a lot more for the children. John spent much of his time working for area schools.

As a community leader, a position he hadn’t sought out, but one that gave him an inside seat on things going on, he kept a finger on the process of appropriation funds for various projects. Books, chalkboards, and supplies were the prime concern for the community members this year. As a representative, John relayed the process to his friends and helped eliminate misconceptions and rumors about the budget.

The attendees passed a bowl of popcorn around the table, dipping their hands in for their share. John liked popcorn almost as much as he liked Snickers bars.

Time moved quickly until the hall clock struck eleven o’clock. To everyone’s surprise, there was a knock on the door. John wondered who could be calling on him at such an hour. He hadn’t expected any word about the operation scheduled for his sister in North Carolina later in the week. He had contributed a couple of thousand dollars to help her out, as had other relatives, but it was for her health, and he didn’t mind. Money is not important when death comes knocking.

Now that Deb, his wife had died and left him alone, John felt nothing was more important than the few family members remaining. The hospital called two days earlier and said his sister would be under observation for the next three days before the operation. So, who was this uninvited guest at this hour?

Several of the members stood and moved away from the door. If there was to be any trouble, they didn’t want to be in the line of fire. John remembered he hadn’t locked the door before joining everyone at the table, so when the door opened, he wasn’t as surprised as he was angry that someone would walk into his house uninvited.

The stranger stood inside the door now waiting as if for a sign to relax. He stood perfectly still.

John didn’t like the looks of this situation and couldn’t determine what was going to happen. The room was silent for hours, but only seconds had passed. Cornered like trapped rats, the small group watched John as he finally walked several steps in the direction of the stranger. But nothing, not even a word came from this specter. Behind everyone, just beyond the window, the fog moved its fingers up the panes of glass, through the open window, and around the walls toward the stranger. It seemed to move him closer to the others who stood transfixed in the center of the room.

John didn’t know the man, but there was something familiar about him. He looked at him without speaking. It wasn’t the lack of words but the look that the man gave him that upset John.

Boards creaked, walls shifted, and tiles mounted on the roof of the house slid down the angel of the porch and crashed onto the concrete as the wind swirled from the south.

The butter on the popcorn hardened like grease on a cold skillet. The stranger looked as if he were a messenger of some great news. He looked worn from his journey. His shoes needed to be replaced, even more than John’s pair from last Christmas. He wore gray from head to foot, looking like a black and white picture from a film shown in the early twenties.

John and his friends often discussed time shifts. The possibility of time-shifting was an allure for John. Just because none of them could prove their existence, they loved discussing the possibility. John wondered if their ideas had finally come to haunt them. He didn’t think the man was materialization. He was real. But who was he?

Placing his left hand on the doorknob, the stranger slowly pulled the door shut. He looked at John and the others. Liz, one of the older members, fainted from fright. She fainted often and in any situation. Fainting was her way of escaping reality. Jessie and Barb were the avengers John needed with him in the face of opposition, but John was the one that the stranger had come to see.

Fumbling in his pockets as he walked, the man pulled out a small, square slip of paper and moved closer to John. Beads of sweat rolled off of John’s forehead as the ominous man moved closer. The man had a limp, perhaps something that had resulted from his last encounter delivering this special gift. Could the man have been an old classmate seeking revenge? John wasn’t the popular person in school many years ago and this could be a way of getting even for something that had been long forgotten.

Scenes moved closer and darker as the man’s aura grew in the room. A song John hadn’t heard in years boomed in his ears. The man’s hand held something that he couldn’t make out. Perhaps the slip of paper was a note or letter, but it didn’t appear to be one.

There was no wrapping paper visible, no card, and no ribbon hanging down like other gifts. As colorless as its carrier, the paper was partially hidden until the last moment, until the stranger passed John. He reached out and patted John’s right shoulder in a friendly fashion as if he were congratulation John for something well done.

Behind Jessie, a door formed in the wall. The stranger looked deep into John’s eyes and then walked through the door. It closed behind him leaving everyone wondering if the incident could have been a dream.

It was one of the craziest things John had ever seen. The tension in the room lifted, but only slightly. This apparition stunned his guests. Not much else was discussed about the school levy. The remaining time was spent trying to understand the strange and the fit he left on John’s right shoulder. After removing his shirt and examining the area where the stranger had touched it, there appeared to be a small patch the size of a post-it pad. It was pale green and attached to John’s skin with black thread that seemed to be alive. It wiggled. John rubbed the thread with his fingers expecting to find an end, but there was none. The patch was flat and empty, at least for now.

CHAPTER TWO

Several days went by before John noticed anything different about this new gift. It was growing. It itched a little. John felt embarrassed about not going to the doctor, but he wanted to wait and see what was going to happen first. If the patch was a problem, he promised himself he wouldn’t hesitate for a moment to have it removed.

His friends were concerned from the very beginning. It was strange that the patch bothered them more than it bothered John. It only wiggled once a day and at about the same time each day. John wondered if this was a schedule or a signal, but if so, for what?

Two weeks passed from the initial visit from the stranger. John’s job had been pretty exciting with a change in management and new ideas being implemented. These were the changes John had suggested several times before, but due to budget cuts, the money had been diverted to other departments. He approached his other supervisor many times with other suggestions to increase productivity, but to no avail.

Finally, Mr. Clements, the new supervisor agreed to try some of the fresher approaches but demanded that positive results were to follow.

John’s peers questioned him several times about the patch, having heard about the experience from the folks in town. He tried to convince them that it was nothing, but many were not so convinced.

During the week the patch pulsed as if it were breathing. John watched and wondered what it could be doing or what was under the surface. The black threads were swelling, and they were slick and wet. Before they had been dry and tight. The patch rose and fell on his shoulder, pulsing, sending chills up John’s spine. He wanted to rip it from his flesh but didn’t. Even though he didn't know what the patch concealed, he felt he’d know soon enough.

CHAPTER THREE

Roxanne Wilson was one of the finest secretaries John ever hired since he became personnel adviser for the company. She had spent many years with other businesses enhancing her abilities and her professional approach. Her red hair was one of her most striking characteristics, and most alluring. It was the first thing John noticed about her during his interview with her several months earlier. Although she sat behind an office divider, the overhead fan blew her hair through the opening between the spaces making it obvious where she worked if one chose to notice.

John lusted after her. Between calls, he dreamed of being with her. He watched her walk from the end of the office to the door. Her movements alone made him only imagine what it would be like to be with her. He broke out in perspiration from the thoughts and daydreams of her. He quickly excused himself and went to the men’s room hoping to compose himself.

The men’s room was a place of release from the frustrations that had been growing all day. John and the other men shared stories and boasted about their latest conquests as they quickly zipped their pants. Today, John also showed them the patch. It was itching and had doubled in size overnight. John stood in front of the wall mirror and watched the pale green gift rise and fall. He buttoned his shirt and went back to his desk.

The phones rang all day long. And at five o’clock, John sighed a long sigh of relief that the day was over. After tucking his blue jacket under his left arm, the newspaper under his right arm, and dangling his keys from his right index finger, he walked to the office door and freedom.

CHAPTER FOUR

A shiver moved up John’s spine. The evening felt different to him. The sun slowly drifted into the western sky, as if reluctantly succumbing to night’s long, fingers that choked from the daylight hours. Fog, the usual visitor, didn’t venture beyond the mile marker outside of town on route 23 this evening. Unspoken vibrations trickled down the walls of John’s house and into the basement. The sounds played rhythmically with its newfound friend. First high treble tones danced inside the walls followed by lower bass tones directly under the floor where John’s favorite chair sat.

Each time the tones began, the patch quivered as if whatever was under the patch wanted to dance to this player’s music. John ripped his shirt off and threw it on the chair in the corner. The lights flickered. He watched the patch move up and down on his skin. He stumbled over the hassock but regained his balance. It had to be the most bewitching thing he had ever experienced.

The room spun wildly, first right, then left, until he felt vomit move up into his throat. He fell onto the floor and held his stomach. Sour smells filled his nostrils, his throat tightened, then he fainted.

CHAPTER FIVE

A sparrow flew by the living room window on its way to find its breakfast. The sun shone into John’s face awakening him. Staring at the ceiling, he felt a sense of freedom. The night had passed. He wondered why he felt such relief. He searched for his glasses, struggled to his feet, and stood motionless for a few seconds before he ventured beyond the safety of the moment.

The patch was gone. It had fallen off during the night. He wondered where it was and what had happened. Touching his chest and looking around the room, he saw the threads that had held the patch to his shoulder lying on the floor. He touched them to find them limp and dry. Had he ripped them off as he fell? And if he had, why wasn’t his skin torn?

Finally, he saw it under the cocktail table just out of sight. It was folded over once and torn on one end. Six small holes on his chest were the only evidence that something had been attached to John’s chest. Blood oozed from them, and he felt sick again. Something had been feeding off of him under the patch all along. For all of his questions, he had no answers, yet.

CHAPTER SIX

Wild thoughts passed through his mind, thoughts that frightened him to death. As a child, John hated the idea of things crawling on him. You can feel crawly things on you until it is too late.

Once, through no fault of his own, John walked into a spider’s web, and it covered his face. Fear spread through him like a raging forest fire or a dry Savannah. With tears running down his face from fear, John ran through the kitchen door assured that the world’s largest spider was clinging to his neck. His mom checked him out and told him it was just his imagination playing tricks on him. Nevertheless, this phobia stayed with him all of his life.

The house was silent. Being deprived of laughter, children’s laughter was one of the many things this house lacked. The furniture John and Deb selected didn’t mean much anymore. The once favorite settee has long lost its attraction.

After a quick panoramic view of the room, he felt weak again from the fear that he had just relived

The lawn sprinklers came on automatically making a stream of water that beat against the dining room window. That room had been planned to accommodate all of John’s friends during the holidays. After Deb dies, only a few friends remained. John worked hard, forging inroads in the little community’s social order. He felt that years of friendships often stand in the balance when tragedy strikes.

He called his remaining friends to tell them about it and many assured him they’d help if necessary. Only time would tell if their hearts were in the right place.

Standing shirtless, John thought about things as he made a pot of coffee. Perhaps it was finally time to see a doctor. Maybe his friends were right, and he should’ve gone before now. The coffee smelled good as the final perk popped up into the pot’s crystal see-through top.

Swaying from side to side and still off-balance, John felt certain something was watching from the living room. He moved slowly toward the doorway. Placing his hands on the wood frame, he searched up and down the framing before going into the room and down the adjacent hallway. He didn’t see anything. He squinted and waited for another sound, but none came.

He was glad it was Saturday. The week passed slowly and from the moment the stranger visited him, he felt excitement cloaked in fear. Once the patch’s contents vanished, he hoped things would revert to their normal humdrum existence to which he was accustomed. With luck and if he could find whatever had been under the patch, he might maintain the thrill a little longer until the change of events positioned another mystery in his path.

John meandered into the living room, picked up an old copy of Tina Turner’s CD, one he treasured, and placed it in the player. He enjoyed a few things since Deb, but he did like Tina. If anything could perk him up she could. He turned the volume up until the windows vibrated with the pulse of the bass. It was just what he needed to help release some of the tension and bottled-up energy from his curious turn of events.

A tingle shot up his spine and caught him off guard. The six-round puncture holes, still raw, felt damp all at once. He felt the spots, and as he expected, blood oozed from each one. Outside the window, spiraling dust devils piled cut grass around the corners of the house. They danced.

CHAPTER SEVEN

The sun rose with the spreading promise that stretched for miles as it collapsed the darkness. It was Monday again. John hurried to his desk quickly but was still distraught from the turn of events. He found the telephone book, turning the pages numbly as he searched for his doctor’s number. He dialed the number.

The secretary answered the phone portraying her usual obnoxious voice. She spoke through her nose as if on purpose. John wondered why a professional office would hire such a person for a customer-service-related position. Nevertheless, he waited for her to finish her rehearsed lines so he would be able to speak to the doctor. He’d known his doctor for only a short time, well since his company passed procedures for the semi-annual checkups for those over thirty.

The doctor couldn’t see him until the next day. Dispirited, John sank into his work until the day ended. That worked out pretty well, but he knew it wouldn’t take long to learn the truth about the six little holes in his shoulder.

Doctor Evens touched the tender spots on John’s shoulder. It stung. Several seemed to be healing over, while the remainder of them oozed. It wasn’t the first time Dr. Evans had seen that kind of bite, but it was very rare, especially in this part of the country. Generally, this kind of bite would be found in a much wetter climate. Questioning John concerning his travels and his whereabouts for the last several months revealed nothing. John considered telling the doctor about the stranger but reconsidered and kept it to himself. Unsatisfied, Dr. Evans wrote three prescriptions and told John the significance of taking the drugs if he expected to get better. There was only one pharmacy in town where the medication could be obtained, and Dr. Evans called ahead to clarify possible questions from the Pharmacist.

John asked about the bites. Looking disturbed, Dr. Evans was reluctant to answer as he reached for a glass of water, sipped it slowly, and returned it to the counter. After looking at John for a long minute, he told him to go to the library or the Internet and look under spiders, big ones.

Needless to say, John’s heart skipped a beat. Thumping harder than ever before, it caused his silk shirt to vibrate. He was speechless and frightened. Thoughts of the stranger, the patch, the bites, and the blood ran through his mind. He succumbed to the dizziness and fell to the floor. Dr. Evans rushed to his side to help. Bewildered, Dr. Evans helped John to his feet and told him to remain still until he was able to leave.

Driving slowly through town, John kept thinking about the revelation. If it was a big spider, where is it now? Is it at my house? What was it doing on my chest?

CHAPTER EIGHT

John’s priority was to search the house until he had found the dreadful thing. He called two of his friends to help him look, and if necessary, destroy.

It was difficult, but this called for all of the strength he could muster. Memories and emotion flooded over John as he sifted through the boxes stored in the basement. He shook from emotion.

John’s fever had risen and fallen during the courtship between the spider and its host. Parts of his shirt littered the floor.

After an exhaustive search by those John had asked to help, every dark crevice had been investigated, but revealed nothing.

The clothes stored there meant nothing to Jessie, just something to wear. She was just there to help a friend search. They were shoved into black plastic bags and cardboard boxes, but they had once been worn by Deb to attend festive occasions and family gathers. And to John, they were all that remained of the life than had been momentous.

The holes on his shoulder tingled as he rubbed them. After stuffing all the clutter away, John invited his friends upstairs for refreshments. They took a break. Spice cake wasn’t John’s favorite, but it was a gift from a neighbor, someone to whom he couldn’t say no any longer. Repeatedly, the neighbor stopped by to leave small morals of food on the porch, along with a letter. He knew she was just fishing for information, but there wasn’t anything that he was going to divulge about the incident or his life.

In a silly way, it seemed almost funny. The plans they both had made and worried over were now just memories, old rags blown by the wind in John’s mind. Deb had been his life. She was everything to him. He could sit for hours and cling to the words she would speak. They’d been married three years before the accident snatched her away. The police called it an accident, but John thought it should have been preventable. Deb was gone now so what did it matter to argue the point. It wouldn’t change a thing. He’d never hold he again, kiss her, or make love to her except in his dreams.

Jessie snapped John back to reality by asking for more coffee. Barb wanted a refill as well. Those two trusted friends helped John through the worst of times, and they enjoyed the best of times. He spent many hours with them since Deb died. There wasn’t much he hadn’t shared with them. When he needed to tell someone about the spiders, he felt confident they’d understand.

John knew he was in deep trouble if he didn’t find the spider. He also felt the visitor was watching and waiting to see how he would handle this experience. John didn’t like the idea of being watched.

Jessie asked him about the spider bites, but there wasn’t much she didn’t already know.

Suddenly, John felt a sharp, stabbing pain beneath the six holes. He jumped up; tripped over his chair and fell against the sink while holding his shoulder. Tears welled up in his eyes. He tore his shirt off and threw it across the room. Blood gushed from the first one and then another of the holes. It looked like a fountain erupting. Jessie screamed and ran to the bathroom for a towel and some bandages. Barb ran to the sink, turned the water on, dampened a towel, and wiped the oozing surface on John’s shoulder.

Weak and frightened, John slumped onto the floor. Jessie came back from the bathroom and began wrapping a large white strip of cloth around John’s chest. Then, suddenly, a leg pushed its way up and through one of the holes in his shoulder. As Jessie watched and cringed in horror, a full-grown black bony spider emerged from John’s chest.

Jesse and Barb watched as six spiders crawled from the holes and dropped to the floor. Jessie took one of John’s boots and smashed two of them before they could get away. Barb screamed and ran into the living room to call 911. The other four visitors scampered into the study.

CHAPTER NINE

Medics hoisted John from the house, removed him, and into the awaiting ambulance. While the lights were flashing, sirens blaring, John mumbled several things to the medics about spiders and blood. He clutched his shoulder. On the way to the hospital, he fainted again.

After the ambulance left, Jessie and Barb quickly gathered their things, jumped into their cars, and followed the sound of the ambulance to the hospital.

When they looked back, Jessie and Barb noticed something clinging to the door facing. Squinting to try to make out what it was, they saw something they couldn’t believe. There above the door was the largest black spider they had ever seen. It crawled down the door frame and across the porch before disappearing into the tall grasses. It must have been what was watching John.

The other four scampered behind it.