The Emergency Store

The Emergency Store

Just off the intersection of Hornclose Road and Twilight Pike, between the city and it’s closest neighboring township, there is an odd little shop that sits by itself at the back of a small parking lot, on the edge of a wheat field, across the way from a sixty acre wood. It’s a square building of concrete blocks, painted gray, with a red slanted roof, and a hand painted black on white sign above the door, which says Emergency Store. Everyone who takes Hornclose Road to avoid the highway has seen the shop, but few can say that they’ve ever stopped in. As a matter of fact, it seems as if no one knows anyone who has ever shopped there. It’s a mystery, but not one that folks talk about very often.

Jasper Wainwright discovered by lucky happenstance that the little shop was open all night. Almost nothing was open twenty four hours anymore, with the exception of gas station convenience stores, ever since the pandemic screwed everything up. On this particular night, Jasper was feeling desperate. At three o’clock in the morning, he had managed to both clog his toilet, and break the flush flapper in it. He couldn’t just leave it for the next day. He needed to fix it right then, but didn’t have what was needed to do so on hand. Unfortunately, no hardware store or big box store would be open at such an hour, and no convenience store would carry what he needed. He didn’t know what to do. It was a real emergency. Jasper had seen the Emergency Store sign many times as he drove by, but had never seen any cars in the parking lot, nor any indication that it was ever open and doing business. Nevertheless, something urged him to at least try to find out if it was open that night. What else could he do? Jasper changed out of his pajama bottoms into his work jeans, and slipped on his light jacket, pocketing his car keys while pushing his feet into his old sneakers. He grabbed his wallet and checked to make sure he had cash in it before placing it firmly in his back pocket. There was a single fifty dollar bill. Feeling anxious, he went out and got into his old car. Then, he was on the road.

Jasper lived on a small farm that he had inherited from his grandmother a few years back. The farm was fairly close to town, wedged between the woodland and a couple of larger fields that belonged to other farmers. Since Jasper’s land wasn’t large enough for anything more than subsistence, he supplemented his living by tending the fields of other farmers, who owned the property but lived further away. From his house, he could go anywhere in the city, or the neighboring township, in forty five minutes or less, depending on traffic. It took him twenty minutes to reach the Emergency Store. He parked in the spot closest to the building in the otherwise empty lot. There were only ten spaces, and none of them were marked for handicapped parking. There were no lampposts, but one bright light shone from the wall by the door. A handwritten paper sign in the window said always open. Jasper opened the door and stepped inside.

Immediately, he noticed the smell. The air was musty and stale. The light which came from two overhead fixtures was dim but adequate. The sales floor had four evenly spaced aisles with fully stocked shelves, and more shelves along three walls. At the front of the store was a short counter with an old mechanical cash register. A small radio was playing the national anthem at a barely audible volume. Behind the counter, a withered looking old man sat on a wooden folding chair. He looked at Jasper and nodded his welcome.

“Do you need help?” Asked the old man, in a thin, raspy, voice.

Jasper glanced around at the shelves as he replied, “Uh, maybe. You wouldn’t happen to carry plumbing supplies, would you? Like for a toilet. I only need the flapper.”

The old man nodded and pointed to the far corner.

“Back wall, on the right,” he said.

Jasper followed the old man’s direction, and found a shelf with three different sizes of toilet flush flapper, plumber’s putty, pipe sealant, waterproof tape, and hose gaskets. The shelf below that held plungers and pipe snake tools. There was only one brand of each item, and the brand logos were of strange names that Jasper didn’t recognize. They appeared to all be German, or Dutch, or Hungarian, for all he knew. Jasper really had no idea. He found a toilet flapper in the right size, and picked up a pipe snake while he was at it. He looked at the plungers. He didn’t really need a new one. However, these caught his attention because they were unusual. The business end of each one was made of black rubber, shaped more like a bell than a bowl, while the handle was some dark wood with a red grain, and a curvaceous shape that came to a point, the length of which was polished to a shine. He went ahead and picked up one of them as well. As he carried his items to the front of the store, he began to feel his innards cramp up. His bowels were ready for another round.

He placed the items on the counter next to the cash register. As he did so, he noticed a three by five inch card attached to the customer side of the cash register, with age yellowed cello tape. On it was written a notice in red ink, that said, “Cash only. Use exact change.” He felt a hint of worry, knowing that the only cash he had on him was the fifty dollar bill in his wallet, along with two dollars in quarters in his jeans pocket. Just then, his bowels turned and rumbled. He wasn’t going to make it home before it became serious.

He looked at the old man and pleadingly asked, “Have you got a toilet I could use? It’s an emergency.”

The old man nodded and pointed to the back of the store again.

“Left hand side,” he replied, this time with a slight note of amusement.

Jasper trotted quickly in the indicated direction. There, in the rear left corner, was a concrete block archway that opened into a corridor that was seven feet tall and three feet wide. On the lintel was a sign that said lavatory. He continued down the corridor for fifty feet, and then came to a steel door at the far end. There was a steel box, above the door latch, that had a narrow slot at the top. Jasper tried the latch, but it wouldn’t move. He quickly realized that he was expected to pay to use the toilet. Grunting in frustration, he fished a quarter from his pocket, and dropped it into the slot. There was a clicking sound, and then the latch could be used. He opened the door into a small room. He didn’t immediately recognize it as a restroom. The furnishings seemed to be carved from a single block of white limestone, including an odd looking relief sculpture of a puckered human face. To his left, a basin was carved into the limestone at waist height. Water flowed from a hole above the basin, continued through a channel in the side, ran down like a waterfall into another channel, which flowed into the back of a hole in a low seat that was also carved directly into the stone. It was a pretty crazy setup, but Jasper figured it out readily enough. He quickly sat down and did his business. When he thought he was emptied out, he began to look around for toilet paper. There was none provided. He wondered if he had been supposed to buy some before. He began to panic a little, as he thought that he might wind up having to use his bare hands. But, just as he was twisting in the seat to examine the channel of water, his rear end was immersed in a stream of water from behind and beneath. Of course, he ought to have realized there would be a bidet feature. Jasper sat for a full minute, allowing the water to wash his nether regions clean. He would have stayed longer, but the stream of water stopped.

Just as he wondered how he was going to dry himself, the face sculpture started to blow warm air. Jasper stood and showed his moon to the wind. Then he washed his hands in the basin, and dried them at the sculpture, too. The door popped open, even though he hadn’t touched the handle. He guessed that he must have used up his quarter’s worth of time. All things considered, it had been well worth the price. Jasper made his way back to the sales counter and grinned at the old man.

“That’s an interesting setup you’ve got going back there,” he remarked.

“We like it,” replied the old man. “Will that be all for you?”

“Yeah, that oughta just about do it,” Jasper said with just a touch of uneasiness, as he recalled the sign that said to use exact change. “How much do I owe you?”

“That’ll be fifty dollars even,” the old man said flatly.

Jasper was startled. How could it have come out to exactly fifty dollars, just by coincidence, he thought. Surely the odds were against that. Stunned, he got out his wallet and handed the old man the fifty dollar bill. The cash register made an aggressive ringing sound as the old man struck the keys, and the drawer opened to receive the exact amount of cash for the purchase. A small slip of paper rolled out of a slot at the top. The old man took the receipt, and placed it in a large paper bag along with Jasper’s other items, and then handed the bag to Jasper.

“Thank you for coming to the Emergency Store,” he droned. “We hope you’ll consider us again the next time you have an emergency. Have a good one, now.”

Jasper said thank you and took his bag out to his car. As he opened the door, the interior light came on, spilling through the windshield to illuminate the edge of the wheat field, where it glinted off of a pair of shiny red spots, which Jasper noticed in his peripheral vision. He looked over just in time to catch a glimpse of some animal as it ducked back behind the ripe stalks of wheat. It might have been a large dog, or a small deer, but something about it was strange. Jasper didn’t spend any time worrying about it, though. He put it out of his mind and enjoyed the ride home. His innards were quiet and relaxed, his undercarriage was feeling fresh, he would soon have his toilet fixed, and he still had a dollar and seventy five cents in his pocket. Life was good.

The following morning, Jasper decided to have breakfast at a place called The Village Inn. It was one of two places he visited regularly, as much for socialization as for the food. The other was a bar called Rusty’s Hole, where he sometimes had his supper. He arrived at his breakfast spot late, which wasn’t a problem as far as the food was concerned, since they served biscuits, eggs, and bacon from six in the morning until nine o’clock in the evening, but it meant that there weren’t many other men at the liars bench. The liars bench was a sort of communal table set apart from the other tables and booths, where anyone could sit down and have a conversation with whoever else was eating at the table. Often this interaction took the form of tall tales and obsolete knowledge from decades past. Jasper usually enjoyed the experience as his main form of social interaction. On this day, most of his usual acquaintances had already come and gone. There were only two others at the liars bench. One was a mopey fellow named Travis that Jasper had only met twice before, and the other was a woman named Allison who was a regular customer. Travis sat staring at his plate of scrambled eggs, mumbling to himself. He was holding a cup of coffee by the top rim, with his fingers arched awkwardly over the top, as if guarding the liquid from some airborne assault. Allison, by contrast, was smiling warmly at Jasper as he approached the table. Jasper greeted them both as he sat down, but only Allison returned the greeting. She asked him what was new, and he began to regale her with the story of his mid night adventure. He had got to the part about the bathroom at the Emergency Store when he was briefly interrupted by the waitress taking his order. He asked for biscuits and gravy with a side of sausage patties, and a glass of milk.

Just then, Travis looked up and said loudly, “they stick to the wheat, mostly,” and went back to his eggs.

“Yeah, buddy, I’m sure they do,” replied Jasper, before returning to his own story. While wrapping it up for Allison, he remembered the creature he had seen in the wheat field, and mentioned it as a curiosity.

Travis’ head snapped up at the mere mention of the creature, and he stared intensely at Jasper as it was described.

“You saw it, too!” he exclaimed. “That damned thing has been terrorizing me for weeks. It and the others with it. They come while the moon is shining, out of the wheat fields, drain the chickens of blood, frighten the dogs, try to get into the house, leave grass all over. I haven’t slept proper in days.”

“Oh! Uh, well, what do you suppose they are?” asked Jasper, taken aback and unsure of how best to respond to the surprising outburst.

“Don’t know,” Travis replied. “They’re shaped like coyotes. Big as a large dog, or a small deer. All covered in grass. Wheat grass. Maybe they roll in it or something. Get it matted in their fur. I can’t ever tell for sure. But they’ve got queer teeth. Hooked, like rose thorns, only lots bigger, and green.”

Jasper and Allison stared at Trevor in disbelief. Usually, when someone told a story like that at the liars bench, they did so with an air of tongue in cheek amusement. Trevor seemed deadly serious.

Allison spoke up first, “Sounds like you’re having a coyote problem, bub. Better get some poison, or maybe a trap. I’d do both.”

Jasper had another idea, and told Trevor, “Maybe you should stop by the Emergency Store. I bet they can get you set up with anything you need. You can even try out their crazy toilet. Just remember to take cash, and make sure you’ve got a quarter.”

“Yeah. Yeah, that sounds like a good idea,” said Trevor. “I’ll give it a shot. Thanks. I’ll kill every last one of those monsters, if it’s the last thing I do.”

He stood up, leaving the rest of his eggs as he walked away, muttering crazily again. The waitress arrived with Jasper’s order, and he began to dig in. Allison watched him with a strange look on her face.

“You wanna know something,” she said, “Trevor’s tale reminds me of an old legend my Grandma told me about.”

Jasper swallowed a barely chewed bite of soggy biscuit, washed it down with milk, and motioned for Allison to continue. “Well? Let’s hear it! I love me some old legends.”

“Okay,” Allison continued in an energetic yet conspiratorial manner. “It seems that in the early sixteen hundreds, there was an attempt to settle this area that didn’t quite go to plan. They had decided to grow wheat, and it was the first wheat to be grown in the area. And, they had already been doing this sort of pagan ritual to bless their other crops, where they would sacrifice a dog, and bury it in the center of the field, where it would become the guardian spirit of the field. Only, the man responsible for the wheat field didn’t want to sacrifice any of his own dogs. He had recently lost a litter of pups, you see, and couldn’t bear to part with the remaining dogs. So, what he did was, he trapped him a wild prairie wolf, which is what the white folks were calling coyotes in them days, and he sacrificed that, and buried it in place of his dog. Well, then there was this old native fella, some sort of a wandering shaman or something, who got real upset about it. Claimed it was bad luck to kill a coyote, and said the field would be cursed because of it. Of course, the white man didn’t pay any mind, until he went to plough the field, and saw a whole litter of coyote pups gathered at the place where the other coyote was buried. Turns out he had done killed their mama, and they were fixin to dig her up. Well, the durn fool goes and gets his rifle, and he starts shooting those coyote pups, but they won’t leave their mama’s grave, and he kills them all. Afterward, he tilled all those coyotes into the field, and planted his wheat right on top of them. Well then, come harvest time, and folks started seeing strange things coming out of the wheat. Coyotes made of grass, they said, one of them bigger than all the rest, that came in the night, by the light of the moon, and just killed everything in sight. The settlement failed, and folks moved away, and that fella that killed those coyotes couldn’t be a farmer anymore. He had to get a job in another village, tending shop at a trading post.”

Jasper swallowed the last bite of his sausage before saying, “Wow! That is sure one doozy of a story. Did the coyote thing have a name?”

“Well now, let me think,” replied Allison. “Grandma called it a few different things. I can’t quite remember, it’s been so long since I thought about it. One of them might have been Roggendog? Roggenhund? And another one was Wizenwolf, I think. Then there was Getreidewolf, sometimes. Probably what she called it most times, though, would have to be Die Graswolf.”

“Die Graswolf? Huh,” said Jasper. “Like, a wolf, but made of grass, I’m guessing. What a weird concept.”

Allison finished off her coffee and got up to leave. She left money on the table to cover her bill, told Jasper goodbye, and went on her way. Jasper sat pondering everything that he had heard until the waitress brought him his bill as well. He paid with his credit card, since the only cash he had left was a pocketful of quarters. Then, he went home and started tending to his chores. He fed the chickens a late breakfast of dry corn, and then took water and alfalfa pellets to his rabbits in their hutch. After that, he walked the rows of his pumpkin patch, checking for damage like he did almost every day. He had been giving them lots of water with high potassium fertilizer to get them to grow as large as possible before they ripened. Now they were as big and plump as he had ever seen pumpkins grow, and just starting to turn orange. They were his only cash crop, and beside a few eggs from the chickens, the only other thing that he regularly sold from his farm. In a couple of weeks, there would be harvest work in the neighboring fields, and Jasper would be busy until the end of October. He usually made almost half his living in those six weeks of the year. Finishing up his chores while thinking about the harvest took his mind off of everything else, and he went to sleep peacefully that night.

Suddenly, Jasper was awakened by the sound of barking. These were not normal dog barks. There was something eerie about their high pitch and breathy expression. He looked out of his window, and down into the pumpkin patch. Staring back up at him were red glowing orbs set in shadowy, dark, lupine faces. The largest, dog like, form was pouncing on the pumpkins, shattering them one by one, then looking directly at Jasper as if daring hom to come down and do something about it. It worked. Jasper was too furious at the loss of his pumpkins to fully consider the consequences of what he was doing. He grabbed his rifle from the closet and loaded it, stuffing a handful of bullets into his pocket, as well. He hurried down to his back door, throwing it open and stepping out onto the porch while simultaneously lifting the stock to his shoulder. He scanned the pumpkin patch and saw nothing, but then he heard the barking again, down toward the road. Out into the moonlight he ran, but he couldn’t catch sight of the creatures. He heard barking again; a chorus of canid voices all yipping in unison. He ran back into the house, grabbed his keys, pulled on his boots over his pajama bottoms, then ran out to his car, and swiftly took off down the road in the direction of the barking.

The sound of the strange animals’ vocalizations led him up and down back roads, out to the main street, along access roads, and back again, up to the crossroads of Twilight Pike and Hornclose Road. Abruptly, Jasper sighted a pickup truck pulled over to the side, with it’s headlights on and driver door open. He slowed down to get a better look, and saw a man lying prostrate and unmoving, beneath the beams of the headlights. He pulled his car over and got out to check on the man, but left his engine running. Jasper reached out his left hand to shake the other man’s shoulder, with his rifle held tightly in the right hand. Being so close, he was able to get a good look at the face, and he discovered that it was Travis, from the liars bench. The poor guy was dead, strangled by a strange mass of plant roots that were wound around his neck, and punctured the throat at the carotid artery. He had a pistol in his right hand, and in the left was a crumpled paper bag like the one Jasper had gotten at the Emergency Store. Jasper felt revulsion, pity, and anger all well up inside him at once. He screamed a gutteral, wordless, cry of frustration into the night air.

Despite his shock, Jasper wanted to do his duty and call the police, but had neglected to bring his smartphone with him. He knew that he would have to go to a gas station to make the call, and lose his chance to chase down the pack of pumpkin vandals. He could hear them barking, in the distance, but the sound was different now. The pattern and timbre had changed. Now it sounded like laughter, but unearthly and chilling. Swearing profusely, he got into his car and drove off to summon the authorities. Once it was done, he sat in the car and stewed, mulling over everything that he had seen, everything that both Allison and Travis had said, and the way that poor Travis had died. Was it possible that he had been killed by the very things that Jasper was chasing, and could they really be the same as the creature from an old legend told by Allison’s crazy grandma? He drove toward home, hoping to get some sleep, but knowing that he probably wouldn’t. He slowed as he approached the Emergency Store. The thought occurred to him that he might as well stop in. Maybe they would have something to help him sleep. Once he had parked his car, he scraped up all the change that he could find in his cupholders, and tucked the handul of coins into his pajama pocket. Then, without any sort of real plan, he went inside. The old man was seated in the same spot as before, reading from a large leatherbound book that appeared at least as ancient and worn as the old man. He looked up from the book and nodded at Jasper.

“Do you need help?” he asked.

”Now there’s the question of the year,” replied Jasper. “I don’t suppose you carry mutant coyote repellent, do you?”

The old man arched one eyebrow quizzically. “What sort of mutant”?

“Oh!” exclaimed Jasper, having not expected the shop keeper to take the question seriously. “I don’t really know for sure. I didn’t really get a good closeup look, but I suspect they’re the source of a local legend.”

The old man drew in a whistling breathe, then asked in a serious tone, “What legend?”

Jasper told him everything, including his suspicion that Travis had been killed by a graswolf. The old man listened intently, nodding at important points. Once the whole story was told, he moved out from behind the counter and walked toward the merchandise aisles.

“I’ve heard of this before, and think I have what you need,” he said. “This doesn’t sound like any ordinary graswolf, but it does have the characteristics of some kind of feldgeist, for sure. That’s a field spirit, which occur naturally, but it sounds like this one was made with magic, on purpose. I have seen it lurking about. You don’t need repellent, you need to exorcise the spirit. I think I know what will do the trick. Come with me.”

Jasper followed the old man through the aisles, as the old man grabbed things from the shelves, placing them in Jasper’s hands. Soon he was holding a ten pound bag of mixed chicken feed, a box of instant oat packets, a box of salt, and a loaf of whole wheat bread. As he touched each item, the old man recited a strange phrase in some language that was foreign to Jasper’s Midwest American ears.

“Hale dynem Wulfaz nu Voder, Nu Distel unde Dorn, Thom andren Jahr beter Korn, Blot til árs ok fridar.”

The last item that the old man removed from the shelf was a steel bottle. Instead of handing it over to Jasper, he started carrying it back to the lavatory. He led the way down the corridor, stopping at the steel door with the coinbox. He jiggled the handle of the locked door, then held out his hand to Jasper.

“Do you have a coin?”

Jasper scoffed in mild disgust, then awkwardly set the items he was carrying down on the floor so that he could retrieve one of his quarters. He handed it over with a pointed look of irritation. The old man gestured to the coin slot, indicating that Jasper should insert the coin.

“My apologies. It is just how the charm works.”

Jasper dropped the coin into the coinbox, and the lock clicked, allowing the door to open. The old man stepped inside with the bottle, and began filling it from the little waterfall that flowed from the basin. All the while, he chanted his mysterious words while moving his free hand through the air above it in circular motions. When the bottle was full, he twisted the cap on tightly and handed it to Jasper. Then he shooed Jasper back down the corridor, where Jasper retrieved all of the other items as well, and on to the sales counter. Jasper watched in befuddlement as the old man rang up everything on the cash register.

“That comes to thirty dollars, even,” he said.

Jasper sighed. “I haven’t got it. I’m in my pajamas. I don’t even have my wallet. All I have is this.” He emptied his pocket and placed it’s contents on the counter, which consisted of the bullets, several quarters totaling a value of one dollar and fifty cents, and one plastic button with a single hair sticking to it.

“Oh dear. You are rather short,” the old man replied.

“Right,” said Jasper, rubbing his forehead. “But I am good for it. Can we do some sort of credit deal?”

The old man sucked in his breath and pursed his lips tightly. “Oh, I hate to do this, but it seems that I have no choice.” He reached into the shallow drawer and pulled out an old mechanical credit card reader.

“Uh,” Jasper interjected, “I don’t actually have a credit card with me either. Maybe I could sign a paper saying how much I owe, and promise to pay it back?”

“You mean to sign your right name, in your own hand, on a note of promise?” the old man asked ominously.

“Yes, that’s the idea. I’ve done it before, at the co-op, and with a few merchants around here. I always pay what I owe. They can vouch for me. I’ll give you their names if you want.”

The old man grumbled under his breath as he went back to the drawer for a three by five inch note card, a red ink pen, and an envelope. He meticulously wrote out what was owed for each individual item, the total due for the lot, the one and a half dollars paid, plus a value for the bullets, and the remainder promised. He then slid it across the counter for Jasper’s signature. Jasper signed and slid it back. The old man placed the card and the coins into the envelope, then grabbed the button with the hair on it. He held up the button in front of Jasper’s face and sternly said, “for collateral!” Then he placed the button in the envelope as well, before sealing the envelope and securing it in the drawer. He put all of the purchased items into one of those paper bags, and handed it to Jasper.

“The salt goes in the food, but not the water. She must eat the salt, and drink the water, to sever the spirit from the field. And you have three days to pay your debt.”

“Well, do you have any idea as to which field?” Jasper wanted to know. “I’ve chased them all over the countryside already.”

“Oh, I assumed that you had discovered it,” the old man replied. “It is the wheat field behind this shop, I feel certain. You must find the exact center, the heart of the field. Good luck.”

Jasper exited the store a bit overwhelmed and still not quite sure how to proceed. Before he could worry about it for long, he saw something walking out of the wheat field. It was a coyote; not a graswolf, but somehow not quite a normal animal, either. It looked directly at him with yellow eyes that exuded great intelligence, and made a whining noise. Then it barked twice and entered the wheat again. Jasper felt compelled to follow. Carrying his bag of blessed groceries, he entered the field where the coyote had, but it was gone. Having no better ideas, Jasper simply started walking forward through the wheat. After several minutes of this, he heard something else disturbing the stalks. The faint rustling of movement was coming from all sides. Jasper stopped, almost panicking. As if by instinct, he removed the oatmeal packets from their box, tore several of them open, and poured a bit of salt into each. No sooner than he had completed this preparation, he found himself surrounded by a dozen small graswolfs. They were snarling menacingly and baring their thorn like teeth as their red eyes burned like hot coals. Shadows seemed to cling to their grass covered hides like smoke. Jasper gulped back a scream of terror that threatened to escape from his throat, then began tossing the oat packets to each of the graswolfs. They began to yelp in confusion, and proceeded to eat the salt laced oats. Soon they had calmed down, and simply stood in place staring at Jasper. After a moment, Jasper felt secure enough to continue on. So, slowly edging past the graswolfs, he moved deeper into the wheat. The graswolfs silently followed him at a distance. Just as he was beginning to feel completely lost, the coyote suddenly appeared in front him, sitting on it’s haunches as though it had been waiting for him. It made eye contact, then got up and walked deliberately into the wheat in a specific direction. Jasper followed. For a moment, he wondered why he had agreed to do this. In fact, he wondered when he had agreed to do it. But, there was no use dwelling on the issue, now that he was so deep into it. He came to a small cleared area in the field, where the wheat seemed to have been chewed down to the ground. At the center of it there was a block of weathered looking limestone, half submerged in the dirt. The coyote stood expectantly beside it.

Overcome with curiosity, Jasper went to the stone and examined it. The dimensions were roughly that of a funeral casket, but he tried not to let that disturb him. Though the surface was well worn and coated with dirt, Jasper could just make out that it was inscribed all over with what appeared to be words in another language, perhaps the language that the old shopkeeper had been chanting in. There was also a pattern of wheat sheaves carved around the top border of the central concavity. Jasper was beginning to put a few things together. To him, the stone looked very like an altar. Following his hunch, he took out the steel bottle and poured it’s contents into the concavity. Next he spread out pieces of the whole wheat bread around the edge. Then he poured salt on the bread, and poured the chicken feed on top of that. The ground began to rumble, and a hole opened up at one end of the stone. Jasper stepped back. The little graswolfs came up from behind him and encircled the area, then stood gazing expectantly. Something began to emerge from the hole, preceded by the stench of death. A bony canid foreleg pushed out in grotesque parody of birth, caked in dirt and embedded with roots, followed by another, and the skeletonized skull of a coyote, dragging behind it a mass of crooked bones and woven grass. All of the graswolfs began howling, and the living coyote joined them in an unearthly choir. Shadows coalesced around the fetid coyote corpse, and it took on the shape Jasper recognized as the largest graswolf, which had pounced his pumpkins into oblivion. Now the graswolf lept upon the altar, and devoured the food that was offered there, following that by lapping up the water. She began to howl, along with the others. In the region of her belly, the grass and roots began to fall away, and white light poured out, as the flesh seemed to be mending itself around exposed bones. The light spread outward, engulfing them all. There was a smell of ozone as dirt burned away from fur. The light began to dim, and when it had faded away, Jasper found himself surrounded by a pack of living coyotes, all yipping happily. The two adults were licking each other’s snouts enthusiastically, leaping in dance like maneuvers around each other. Moments later the furry family scampered off into the field, leaving Jasper by himself.

The sun was rising as Jasper trudged back to his car. He drove home, and collapsed into his bed, where he slept soundly until midday. After waking, he took a very long, hot shower, using more soap than usual to clean off all the dirt and muck of the field. He put his bedsheets into the washing machine, and threw away his soiled pajamas. Then, dressed in fresh, clean, jeans and tee shirt, he went to the Village Inn for lunch. He didn’t bother sitting at the liars bench. He needed some time to himself. After eating, he went to the bank to withdraw some cash. From there he proceeded to the Emergency Store to pay his debt.The old man seemed slightly surprised to see him. When Jasper presented him with the cash, he refused it.

“Your debt has already been paid, mister. Your friend came in this morning and paid it in full.”

“Friend? What friend?” Jasper asked in confusion.

“The native fellow, with the yellow eyes,” the old man replied insistantly. “He mentioned something about owing you a favor. Said you had saved his wife and children from a fate worse than death. Oh, and this is yours.” He handed Jasper the envelope containing his button and the hair.

Jasper returned home more befuddled than ever. He took a walk around the property to clear his head. When he reached the pumpkin patch, he gasped in utter surprise at what he saw, and collapsed to the ground on buckled knees. The seeds from the smashed pumpkins had sprouted, and new vines were growing at a visibly rapid rate. A small cloud hovered above the field, watering the plants while new pumpkins grew and swelled. Jasper sat and watched as over the course of three more hours, the new pumpkins ripened. The rain ceased, and the cloud evaporated. The vines filled the area all around, even climbing the walls of the house. There were pumpkins on the roof. There were pumpkins everywhere, and every one of them a beauty. Jasper heard the yipping of a coyote in the distance.

“No, my friend,” he said. “Thank you.”