Music Box

“My popsicle is melting young man, perhaps you should get a move on eh?” said the man with the overgrown gray beard. His voice was deep and his large frame added a slight bellow to his words that I suspect was there whether he wanted to be loud or not. I looked out at the green carpeted water dotted with large cypress trees and their brown stumpy knees surrounding them. The sun was pretty high and the humidity made the air almost too thick to breath in. The old man had forced us out here at gunpoint to retrieve his stuff. I know it's out there under the water somewhere, but it was dark when we hid it and I hadn’t planned on needing to recover it before some crazy old bastard’s popsicle melted. 

“Boy if you don't return what's mine before this thing is gone I’m gonna kill this girl and then I’m gonna kill you. Ain't nobody gonna know and even if they did they wouldn’t care.”

“Please Kurt just find it please,'' Amy pleaded as Evil Santa’s red popsicle slowly dripped onto the side of her face. He had zip tied her hands behind her back along with mine when he caught up with us earlier. Mine had only just now been freed so I could recover the old tool box we had hidden here last night, but Amy’s were still bound while she lay on the ground. The old man had brought a small cooler with him with what I had assumed to be water for the long walk out here but so far all he had retrieved from it were red popsicles. That would explain his noticeable lack of teeth. Nobody knew how long he had lived on the secluded old plot of land where his house was but most kids always just assumed it was since forever. Right now he was using an old stump as a chair while resting his swollen right leg on the small of Amy’s back. His pump action shotgun sat lazily on his lap while he stroked it like an old house cat.

“I’m thinking damn it!” I said with more desperation in my voice than I’d like to admit. She shouldn’t even be here.  She is my older sister and likes to pretend she is better than me most of the time but we both know her meth habit is just as bad as mine ever was. That being said, I didn't want to see her get hurt. She was the only family I had that counted, the rest being in jail or had disowned me long ago. Amy had insisted on coming with me after I told her I was gonna snoop around in the old man’s barn for anything I could sell. I figured for sure he would have some high-end power tools or something in there worth money. It was her idea to break into his house while I hit up the barn. It made sense, but I didn't like the idea that she might find something good and keep it to herself. Anyhow, everything was going fine until the old guy came back down the driveway a little too soon and saw her climbing out of his bedroom window. Luckily we easily outran him as he was screaming and limping after us. Hiding the box in the swamp was just insurance in case the police got involved, though I would have preferred to have not been caught at all. Unfortunately he recognized us though, that's the problem with small towns. Someone must have told the old bastard where we were staying because he was waiting for us this morning as we walked out the door of the trailer.

That's the tree! There in front of me stood a small group of old light brown cypress trees that I remembered. The widest one in the middle was it. Even with only moonlight I had been able to make it out in the darkness last night. It wasn’t the tallest tree around but it was easily three times as wide than any other I had seen in the swamp. Why I had wandered so far out last night to hide this I can only blame on being high. Being high right now would be nice, instead of having to deal with this while being clear headed like an idiot. I started walking out to the tree and took my first step into the warm tea colored water. The tree was only about 20 feet out but slogging through the leaf covered mud made it feel like a football field away. 

When I got to the tree I couldn't help but look up at it and wander if it was going to speak to me. Surely a tree this old and gnarly looking could talk and just as surely it would say something like “Turn back or perish.” When it didn't say anything I continued walking around to the other side where I had left our take.

“Don’t get smart back there Kurt!” he yelled out around the popsicle in his mouth. He needn't have worried as I have never been accused of being too smart, I thought to myself with a smartass grin on my sweaty face. I had dropped out of school the year before and things had been pretty great. Going out, getting high and stealing from whoever I could take advantage of had been working well up to now. I enjoyed being independent and providing for myself even if I did it by being a thief. People shouldn’t be so trusting and stupid anyways. Maybe those words really mean the same thing, trusting and stupid. I don't know. 

I arrived at the back of the tree and found the mark I had made with my pocket knife to indicate where the box was located. Reaching into the water I searched blindly for the box fully expecting a cotton mouth to swim up and put its fangs right in my arm. That’s all I would need to set this day off right but after searching for a few seconds I felt a slick surface. Still wrapped in the trash bag I had used to waterproof it until my return I pulled it up and back into the light of day. 

“Here it is for Christ's sake.” I said while dropping the box on the ground in front of him after making my way back out of the water.

“Back up two steps and get on your knees son” he said while looking at the box.

He took one more bite of the popsicle then let it fall to the wayside as he grabbed up the box and ripped the trash bag off it like so much tissue paper. The box itself was opened in short order and he dumped it out on the ground while mumbling something unintelligible. He picked through all the various old tools and parts that accumulate overtime  in a box like that. Amy had thrown in some old jewelry she found in a dirty red vanity by his bedside, presumably his wife’s but the idea of a woman living with him willingly seemed insane. 

“Where is it?” he asked. His expression said that his patience had run thin.

“Where's what? That’s your stuff right there in front of you for fuck’s sake.” I wasn’t sure what he was playing at.

“You really think I walked you two out here at gunpoint for this garbage? Where is the music box boy and don’t you lie to me!”. Something was wrong now. The old man wasn’t just irritated now...he was afraid. 

“There wasn't any music box I swear!” I said in desperation. The old man stood up with a visible grimace of pain, the walk out here had obviously taken a toll. Lifting the shotgun and aiming it in the general direction of my left leg he said “Give it to me boy or I’ll leave you out here with one less leg. You wouldn’t be the first person to bleed out in this bog.”

“He’s telling the truth,” Amy said to him while closing her eyes in shame. “I liked it Kurt I’m sorry. I put in my purse. I wasn't gonna sell it I swear.” She was probably telling the truth...maybe not the part about keeping it but the part about it being in her purse rang true.

“Well, where is it?” I asked.

“It's back at the house. I didn't grab it on the way out.” she replied. She had sat back up  and was beginning to sound petulant now that the truth was out.

“Alright boy here is what's gonna happen. Me and your trash sister are gonna wait at my house. You are gonna go get the music box and bring it to me before I decide I’m tired of looking at her.” The old man was visibly exhausted and had started to look pale. 

“Fine, fine I’m on my way, just gimme a bit.” I replied hastily while mentally calculating how long it would take to get home and then back to the old man's house by foot.

The old man's eyes softened just a bit and he said to me “ Kurt...listen to me son...don't play that box. Just get it and bring it to me with no fuckin’ around, alright?”. Why is his voice shaking like that? I'm not sure why but the old guy seemed to be genuine in his concern. Why would he care if I played the damn thing at all? Christ almighty how did this all become so damn complicated? 

We went our separate ways. He and Amy went to his house while I set out for the purse. The walk back out of the woods didn't take so long without having to wait for the crippled old man. Once I made it to the gravel road that led out to the highway it was just a matter of covering the ground between me and home. I jogged up to the screen door of the trailer while heaving and paused for a moment as nausea crept up my throat. After a cold couple of seconds bent over I went in to find her purse wedged in between the wall and her bed. I grabbed it and dumped it out on the bed. Sure enough, a small music box tumbled out. It wasn’t much to look at, brown wood with some brass trim, but I guess she could have sold it for something. I opened it up and inside it was just some little gears and what you would expect from a cheap trinket. On the inside of the lid there were some kinda marks scratched into it. Didn't look like the manufacturer had put them there though. 

I fingered the little wind up rod on the side for a moment. Was the old man afraid I was gonna break it? What if he tries to play it when I bring it to him and it doesn’t work, I thought. “Honestly I don't even care how it sounds” I said to myself. I got a quick drink of water and made for the old guy's house with the box in hand.

 I rounded the curve into his driveway and I saw them both sitting on the porch. Amy looked to be tied to a porch rail with a gag in her mouth while he sat on an old white plastic chair still cradling the gun. As I approached the house the more something felt off about the old guy. He wasn’t so much sitting as slumping now and I could see his eyes were open but they just peered forward with no expression. 

“Hey...hey old man!” I shouted. His eyes looked over at me while his head didn’t move and he growled “Put it on the...put it on the porch.” He could barely breathe it seemed. I walked a couple steps closer and set it down close enough for him to reach it.

“Here it is. Now I’m gonna go cut her loose and we are gonna get outta here. Sound good to you?” I said in my best hostage negotiator voice.

The old man barely nodded and blinked. It was all the indication I needed to get moving. I got my pocket knife out and cut Amy free. She took out the gag and stood up a bit shakily. 

“Let's go,” I said.

“Wait a second Kurt...look.” she said and pointed behind me. The old man had slumped even  more. The shotgun slowly slipped from his lap and fell to the ground with a clatter but no dramatic boom. I spun and went for the gun without even thinking. I grabbed it by the worn stock and immediately turned it on its former master but it was a wasted effort. Slowly, oh so slowly, the man tipped over to his side and collapsed to the porch floor. I walked over and looked close at him.

“He’s still alive I think. Maybe we should call an ambulance?” I asked Amy.

“My ass we call anybody” she replied with a coldness in her eyes that made me uncomfortable. She reached down and grabbed the music box from his feet. Looking at him in the eye she kneeled down in front of him and placed the box inches from his face.

“What are you doing Amy? If we aint gonna call anybody then let’s just grab the stuff we stole and get outta here please” I pleaded. Why was she acting like this? She never looked up though. In fact she never broke her gaze from him as she slowly started to turn the music box arm. As it turned I could hear the gears winding up with the stored energy they would need in order to power the music. Not only could I hear them clearly but they were loud, too loud for such a small thing. The old man started to rock back and forth as frantically as his spent body could. Unbelievably it sounded like he was crying. I started to get goosebumps and could see my breath. “What the hell…” I thought. The air was turning cold. Really cold. Everything had gone quiet except for the sound of the box gearing up. I looked at Amy's cruel expression and I knew she wasn’t gonna leave until she felt like she had crushed this old bastard but something here was wrong.

“Amy stop with that stupid thing and let’s go!” I tried to yell but my words seemed to get swept up in the grinding of the metal and sounded like gibberish. She stopped turning the arm and I could swear time had stopped. Nothing moved including me though I’m not sure if it’s because I really couldn’t or if I was simply caught up in the moment. I finally gathered up my balls and said something.

“Amy please don't let it go, something is wrong here.” I hate to admit it but I was on the verge of tears at this point. It felt like despair was emanating from that freakin’ box and now it was all wound up to play me a tune. She turned her head and we locked eyes. I had never really believed in good or evil up until then, it always seemed like make believe to me but when I saw her face there was no more room for doubt. Evil existed...still had to wonder about good cuz there sure as hell wasn’t any here right now. She gave me a little smile and let go of the arm. 

The box started to play something...what is that? Oh no wait that's not right. 

“That can't be right!” I yelled.