I Need Your Help

“I Need Your Help”



By



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© 2009



"I need your help."

How many times have you heard this throughout your life? Many I'm sure. From the mundane to the extraordinary. You hear it from your kids whining because their bike tire is flat,  dragging you away from another Bulldog loss. You hear it from a neighbor who’s too cheap to buy his own video camera, but thinks nothing of screwing yours up while recording his kids swim meet. You hear it from your boss who hasn’t done an honest days work in years, but wants to use your time teaching him how to download files from the internet, for “business purposes” of course.

Sometimes you wish you didn’t hear it.

Growing up in Mobile, Alabama I became infatuated with trains and decided I wanted to work for a railroad. I thought it was cool the huge locomotives pulling hundreds of freight cars to destinations unknown. Well it sure didn't take long to figure out that the romantic notion of freight trains hurdling through the lonesome night did not have a hell of a lot to do with sitting in front of a computer terminal for hours, with the only diversion being taking yard inventory regardless of the weather.

I attended the railroad training program, and was asked for my preference of three work locations. The railroad ignored those and sent me where I was needed.  I ended up in the middle of nowhere in central Alabama. The office was not even visible from the road. I drove by four times before realizing it was down a tiny dirt track. After a few weeks of on the job training, I was cut loose to work on my own and stuck on the graveyard shift.

That place had quite a cast of characters. The boss knew squat about freight operations and spent most of his time drying peanuts.. He had a peanut patch out back and when he harvested them they would be spread all about the property to dry. The evening clerk’s ambition was to drive a school bus. Nothing wrong with that except there wasn’t a school within 50 miles. And of course the switch crew. They operated the switching locomotive delivering raw materials and picking up boxcars of newsprint at the paper mill. These guys worked at night and were bored, mean, and had me, the new guy to taunt.

Constantly thinking of ways to make my life miserable, one of their first tricks was to tell the area good old boys that I was the Alabama amateur lightweight boxing champion. Nothing could have been further from the truth. I managed to convince the locals that they could kick my ass if they wanted to but they wouldn’t be proving anything. Another time they killed a rattlesnake and coiled it up outside the door. I pretty much had to change underwear when I stepped on that thing. My favorite though was when they captured a bobcat to torture me with.  Not that I enjoyed being tortured with a wild animal. On the contrary it scared the crap out of me What I did enjoy was watching the bobcat shred Jackie’s brand new coat. Jackie was the switch crew brakeman and the coat was a recent Christmas present from his wife. Explaining that incident cost him a few lonely nights on the couch.  They had so many, but their favorite act of sadism was sneaking up to the building and throwing rocks on the tin roof at three in the morning.

As time wore on they grew weary of heaping indignities upon me and their disparagement dwindled. The exception being Willie’s constant belittlement of me concerning the woods. He was always on my case about being a dumb city slicker and I better stay out of the woods, because I would probably get lost and he would have to waste his time looking for me. He knew I had no intentions of going out there. He just liked reminding me that I was out of my element in the country. Besides that, they were pretty much leaving me alone.

That’s why I was all the more suprised when I heard the loud BAM on top of the building. I too had quite a bit of free time and spent most it sleeping. Okay, I know it was wrong, but my body clock was having a very difficult time adjusting to working at night and sleeping all day. Leaping up, I looked around but didn’t see anything. Finally, I decided the only logical thing to do was go back to sleep.

Suddenly, I was startled awake by what seemed like someone yelling in my ear,

"I need your help!"

My heart racing, I jumped up. I figured Willie, the leader of the switch gang, must have sneaked back from the plant to torture me yet again. However, I couldn't see anyone. Since it was inventory time anyway, I headed up to the plant. I parked my car and saw all four of the crew were working. I guessed it must have been one of my nightmarish dreams I constantly had due to lack of sleep. However, there was no way I was going back to the office until the crew was finished. Even that ruthless gang of bullying thugs was a welcome respite to returning alone.

As with most night frights, the sunlight dispelled the paralyzing fear that earlier gripped me and I headed back to the office arriving the same time as the switch crew. They managed to throw a few barbs my way, but it had been a long night, and they headed off to do whatever backwood country boys do when they aren’t harassing poor city slickers. Personally, I had two days off and didn’t really give a damn. I was getting away from redneck hell and headed to the redneck Rivera of Gulf Shores, Alabama.

After two days of swimming, sunning, and drinking, the frightening experience of two nights earlier was completely out of my mind. I headed back to the country only worried about what new torments the boys had for me. Several weeks went by fairly incident free and the nightmare was a distant memory. I should have known it was too good to be true.

It had been a rough night. Two trains had passed through, dropping off over one hundred cars of freight. The switch crew had to make two plant runs, and they were pissed. I had been walking the yard and working the computer for hours, and was beat. I had just finished my last yard check, when I heard a noise in the woods. It was extremely dark. The only illumination were yard lights, the closest about one hundred feet away, and a dim porch light on the building. I thought the shifting light was playing a trick on my eyes, because it appeared to be a person standing at the edge of the woods. I was about to strike it up to exhaustion, when I heard those four words I had managed to forget for two weeks.

“I need your help”

I walked over to where I heard the voice, but as I approached, the person retreated into the woods. I was perplexed about the silence of its movement because peanut shells were crunching beneath my feet.  I felt like I was chasing my shadow. I remembered all the tales Willie had told me about the woods. I felt I should turn back, but I couldn’t just ignore what I was seeing and hearing. I blindly pressed forward, fighting the brush as the thorny branches shredded my arms. I was in agony, but couldn’t give up. I still wasn’t convinced I had seen someone, but if so, they were just ahead. After about ten minutes I came abruptly upon a small clearing. It was bizarre because the woods were extremely thick, except for this tiny area.

I stopped, listening intently. If there was someone, they either had to be in this clearing, or I should be able to hear them as they continued through the pitch black woods. I don’t know if you have ever been in the woods in Alabama, but at night, it is damn noisy. There were locusts chirping, bullfrogs croaking, and a myriad of slithering noises, though not a single sound of human movement. I couldn’t hear anyone and I sure couldn’t see anyone.

As I stood there struggling to breath quietly, I finally remembered that I had my flashlight. If I had been thinking straight, I would have had it on the whole time. Of course had I been thinking at all, I wouldn't be out here chasing shadows? I turned on the light and shined it around. It was not a proper light because it was meant for reading boxcar numbers, not for spotlight purposes. I looked around and couldn't see anything but trees bordering the clearing. Still thinking of how much danger Willie told me I could be in out here, I turned around and started to head back wondering if I would be able to find my way. I was deep in thought and I almost missed seeing a slight depression in the ground. It was about five feet long and maybe two feet wide. The first thing that came to my mind were boyhood thoughts of buried treasure.  Growing up on the Gulf Coast, there was many tales of hidden pirate treasure. I pictured digging up a chest of gold doubloons, becoming fabulously wealthy, and telling the railroad to stick it. As I looked around for something to dig with I began planning the vacation I would be taking as soon as I cashed in the loot. I thought Atlanta Braves season tickets sounded good. Hank Aaron was chasing Babe Ruth’s home run record and it would be great to be there when he did it. Not finding anything to dig with, I decided I would come back with a shovel the next night. I made my way out of the woods just before  the switch  crew returned. Willie and his hellions jumped off the locomotive and asked what had happened to me. I told them I tripped while walking the yard, sliding down an embankment. They had a good laugh, then went on in the building with me. I finished up for the night, struggling to stay awake as I awaited the day shift.

Arriving home, I threw a shovel into the trunk, showered, and sacked out. The alarm shrieked at me ten hours later, resurrecting me from a zombie-like sleep. I was still dead tired. Humans should not be working all night, but try to telling that to the railroad. I was eager to get to work, hoping there would be an opportunity to dig up the treasure. Indeed, for me, good news did await. A derailment had occurred north of the depot preventing trains from running through that night. The switch crew had a light night ahead, only having to pick up several  loads of newsprint, and drop off empty box cars and a tank of sulphuric acid, which by the way stunk like nothing you can imagine. Willie and his pack of hoodlums were out of there by one AM. Since this was a ripe opportunity for some of his shenanigans, I didn't even think about leaving the building for another hour. At two AM I strolled around outside for thirty minutes, feigning boredom, just in case he had something in mind.

Apparently, he was gone for the night, so I walked to my car. I grabbed the shovel and a spotlight, and hiked into the woods. It was spookier than the night before, and I thought about giving up but piles of doubloons were flashing through my mind. I plodded forward being more careful than I was the night before, as I still hurt from that wickedly painful excursion. I became a little disoriented and had trouble finding the clearing. Again I thought about trying another time. Just as I was heading back I heard a strange sound. It reminded me of someone whispering, but I couldn’t make out the words.  I froze for a second, trying to see if I could hear it again.

When I didn't hear anything, I headed towards where I thought the sound had originated. I walked for awhile, and suddenly, there I was in the clearing. I instantly forgot about the sound and started digging. I had no idea how deep pirates buried treasure, but I was hoping I would be able to finish by daylight, otherwise I would have to come back. I dug for forty five minutes removing a huge pile of Alabama mud. I was thinking that a better planning would have been smart and maybe then I would have some water. As I was contemplating my impending death by dehydration, I noticed a scrap of material sticking out of the mud. I reached for it and tugged.. It suddenly freed causing me to fall backwards, covering myself in the wet filthy muck. I wasn’t even sure what some of the curse phrases the boys used meant, but it didn’t stop me from spouting them. I  stood up and cleaned off as much slime as I could. I grabbed the flashlight and shined it on what I had pulled out of the ground. What I saw nearly caused me to piss my pants. It appeared to be a human skeleton arm. I was pretty damn scared, but I remember reading in some cheap novel that the pirate leader would kill those who buried the treasure, preventing them from coming back before he did. I know that’s a load of crap but greed will screw your thinking. I started poking around in the hole and my buried treasure dreams quickly faded. I realized that unless pirates wore Budweiser tee shirts and Massey Ferguson baseball caps, I had come across something quite different.

I tore off through the woods. I practically crashed through the depot door, frantically looking for the list of emergency numbers. I dialed the number for the local sheriff. It took me awhile to convince the yokel that answered to send someone to check out the corpse. After convincing him that I wasn't drunk or playing a trick, he dispatched a deputy. I think the deputy believed I was some city boy, who didn’t know a human skeleton from deer skeleton. He took a look though, and quickly became a believer. The place soon swarmed with law enforcement.

The day shift arrived, but I wasn't going anywhere. The authorities had too many questions about my grisly discovery. Deciding I was not going to talk about ghosts or shadow people, I told them I had seen some deer walk behind the building and I wanted to see where they were going. I don't think they believed me, but I don't think they really gave a damn either. Finally, they said I could leave if I wanted, but I was curious and decided to hang around.

The police had already removed the body, and were now hand sifting through the dirt. I noticed one of them pick up something from the pile and was examining it closely. After an animated discussion, they both walked in and asked the boss if he had addresses for all the employees. I was bored and tired, so I headed home. I had been asleep for a few hours, when the boss called. He said it turned out they had been looking for the dead guy for some time. Topping that, in the hole they found an engraved watch belonging to Willie Lankford. He was arrested that day, on suspicion of murder. He finally admitted doing it, telling the police that the guy had been hitting on his wife. Having seen her, I had my doubts, but who can account for tastes.

         I had to go to court for his trial and describe my discovery. In three days the trial was over. Willie was convicted of first degree murder and was sentenced to life in prison. As he was leaving the courtroom, he swore he would get me. That shook me up, but I got over it. I ended up transferring though, because it was just a little too cold around his cohorts and I didn’t trust them. That was almost thirty years ago, but it seems like yesterday.

         Now you may be asking, why am I telling this story when it happened so long ago. I managed to keep quiet about the details all this time, and there wouldn’t seem to be a point in bringing it up now. Last week through some bizarre bureaucratic screwup, Willie was mistakenly let out of prison. A William Langston was paroled having served 3 years for a minor robbery. There was a new guard on duty that day, and he got Willie Lankford and William Langston mixed up. He walked Willie right out the front door and even called him a cab.

No one knew what became of Willie. There were rumors that he was living with a hooker  in Atlanta and another that he had fled to Mexico. I don’t know if either of those were true. I don’t think anyone does. I only know that Willie made good on his promise and he did show up. No one else knows that though.  No one knows what happened that day. No one knows where he is and now no one knows where I am or what happened to me.  Willie is the only living soul that does. I would like for my family to know what happened to me. So you see that’s why…….

         “I need your help”