The Chicken House — Jemma

This is a continuation of another entry, but is still a stand-alone story

THE CHICKEN HOUSE — JEMMA

2021

Jemma put her phone down. It had been her brother Allister. He wanted to get together and talk about the what had happened at the Chicken House. 

She had agreed to come over to his place on the weekend, but she was conflicted. Did she really want to dredge up the past?  

1997

Jemma maneuvered her head between the spindles at the top of the stairs. She tilted her head towards the kitchen, where her parents were having a serious talk with Allister, her older brother. Her parents were talking quietly. She kinda wished that they would yell, so that she could hear them. But only at Allister, not her. 

All she could hear was “dangerous,” “not safe,” “trespassing” — whatever trespassing meant.

Then she heard her mother’s slightly raised voice, “We don’t want you going over to the Gibson’s farm. It’s not safe.”

The next morning her mother informed her that Allister was going to be looking after her on the afternoons that she had to go to work — that he was in charge, and she had to do what he said. She didn’t want Jemma fighting with Allister. If there was a problem, they could call her at work.  

“I don’t need a babysitter! I’m not a baby!” whined Jemma, sounding just like a baby.

“I know you’re not a baby. But you’re too young to stay by yourself. Allister took the babysitting course in the spring, and he’s old enough to look after you.” She turned to Allister. “And don’t you be mean to her. I’m paying you to be smart, not mean.”

Allister nodded his head. “Got it.” 

Jemma and Allister were sitting in the front yard deciding what to do when Jordan, Allister’s best friend, rode up on his bike.  

“All Star! Germa! How’s it going!”

Jemma like Jordan. He was nice to her — nicer than stupid Nick, Allister’s other friend. And he never treated her like a baby. Jemma smiled.  

“Wanna go to the Chicken House?” Jordan asked Allister.

“Can’t.”

“Come on! Don’t be a wuss, All Star! It’s just the Chicken House.”  

Jemma snorted. She knew that Allister hated being called a wuss.

“I am not a wuss,” said Allister. “My mom said I’m supposed to watch Germa this afternoon. She’s paying me.”

“Yeah,” said Jordan, “but she didn’t say you had to watch her at home.”

Jemma really wanted to go. She didn’t know what a Chicken House was, but it was better than sitting in the front yard with her stupid brother. Plus Jordan was going.

“I want to go!” said Jemma. “If you don’t let me go, I’m telling Mom and Dad that you’re going to the Chicken House!”

Allister turned to look at his little sister. “Do you even know what the Chicken House is?”

“No, but I’ll tell them anyways.” Jemma crossed her arms across her chest.

“You’ll have to ride your own bike, cuz I’m not riding double. And it’s a long way”.

“I’ll keep up. Puleeeez!” She knew that she could keep up — she had a new bike, and she was fast.

“Fine! But you can’t tell Mom or Dad.”

“I won’t! I promise!” said Jemma, a smile crossing her face, not sure what she wasn’t supposed to tell Mom and Dad about.  

She ran and got her helmet, and jumped on her bike. Allister and Jordan had already started riding away.

“Wait for me!” she yelled after them, peddling as fast as she could, trying to keep up.

By the time Jemma caught up with Allister and Jordan, they had stopped. She was out of breath and sweaty. She grabbed her water bottle from its holder on the frame, and took a big drink.

“Where are Sierra and Nick?” Allister asked Jordan.

“OOhhhh, Sierra. Allister loovvvves Sierra,” mocked Jemma, making kissy sounds.

“Shut up, Germa!” said Allister.

“Kiss, kiss, kiss,” she said, making smooching sounds with her mouth.

Jemma knew that Allister liked Sierra, a lot. All he ever did was talk about Sierra — Sierra did this, Sierra did that, Sierra is so nice, Sierra was so much fun. Jemma liked Sierra, too, but not as much as Allister.

“You shut the hell up, or I’m going to punch you.”  

“I’ll tell Mom and Dad,” she countered. Allister had never hit her, but he was M.A.D., mad. 

“Fine,” said Allister. “We’re going home. Now.” He turned his bike around, and started peddling back the way they had come. Jemma started to panic. She didn’t want to go home. She wanted to go the the Chicken House.

“No! Wait! I’m sorry! Please! I want to go to the Chicken House.”

“Then you shut your stupid mouth,” Allister warned.

Jemma nodded, silently miming zipping and locking her mouth and throwing away the key.

They all turned when they heard bike tires on the gravel. Nick and Sierra were racing up the road, Sierra in the lead. They stopped right in front of Allister, spraying gravel in fantails behind their bikes.  

“Ha! I told you I was faster!” said Sierra, out of breath.  

Nick laughed, “I let you win.”

“You did not! If you let me win, why are you out of breath?” Sierra retorted.

“Whatever,” said Nick, smiling at Sierra.

Jemma didn’t like the way that Nick smiled at Sierra. In fact, she wasn’t sure she even liked Nick.  He always made fun of her. And he was the one who started calling her Germa. 

Nick looked at Jemma.

“Hey, what’s she doing here?” he said, pointing at her.

“I’m babysitting,” said Allister.

“Right, All Star, babysitting.” He turned and looked right at Jemma, and using a weird accent, said, “Babies! We don’t need no stinkin’ babies!”  

Everyone laughed except Jemma. She had no idea what was going on. But she did know that Nick was making fun of her, again, and calling her a baby. 

“I’m not a baby,” said Jemma, lifting her chin, and looking right at him, frowning.

“Don’t worry,” said Jordan, “Germa’s good to go. Right, Germa?”  

Jemma smiled at Jordan. She didn’t even care that he called her Germa.

“Okay,” said Sierra, “Let’s go.”

They all turned down a dirt road and peddled forward. Jemma hoped it wasn’t far, because her legs were getting tired. And she had to be careful because there were rocks and big holes in the track, and she didn’t want to fall off her bike. Around the last bend, the property opened up. Jemma looked around. It was scary looking.

Jemma sidled up to Sierra, leaned in and whispered, “What is this place?”

Sierra bent down, and spoke.

“This was the Gibson farm. A long time ago the farm house burned down,” she said pointing to the right, where a partial chimney reached for the sky. 

The Gibson farm! They were NOT supposed to be here!  

“Behind that is the barn. It didn’t burn, it just fell down. 

Jemma looked where Sierra had pointed. All she could see was what looked like a roof lying on the ground.

“And, that,” Sierra said, pointing in front of them, “is the chicken house.”

Jemma looked at the grey building in front of them. It was long, with windows along the side. It looked like there was a bottom and a top floor. There was a hole in the roof on the other end. Jemma thought about the barn falling down, and wasn’t so sure she wanted to go in.

“Is it going to fall down on us?” she whispered.

“Nah,” said Sierra, “it’s super strong.”

Jemma nodded.  

“But what is it?” she asked.

Sierra smiled. “The Gibsons used to raise chickens, for their eggs. Now we just hang out.”

“Are there still chickens?”

Sierra laughed, “No. Not any more. But there’s a really cool game we play inside. Come on, let’s go.”

The group put their bikes down, and started the short walk to the chicken house. They walked through the the doorless door frame. Jemma looked around, eyes wide. She had never been in an abandoned building before.   The building itself wasn’t very wide. There were a bunch of wooden boxes along both sides of the wall. She guessed that’s where the chickens lived.  

“What is that?” she asked Sierra, pointing at the big metal bowl hanging from a ball joint in the ceiling. 

“That is where they used to put the eggs once they collected them. Now it’s where we play,” said Sierra, smiling really wide, 

The thing was huge.  A kid could sit in it! Before she could ask Sierra what it did, Jordan took a run from the wall, pushed it, and jumped in. He sailed down the middle of the room.

Holy smokes! She thought, it’s a ride! She laughed and clapped her hands.

She watched as they took turns, seeing who could go the farthest.

“I wanna turn,” she yelled.

Everyone stopped and looked at her.  

“Uh,” said Nick. “I don’t think you’re big enough.”

“I am so!” She ran over and pushed it. It didn’t go very far.  

“I know,” said Jordan. “Let’s push her in it! Who ever gets her the farthest is the winner!”

“Yay!” said Jemma, jumping up and down, clapping.

“I don’t know,” said Allister. “What if she, you know, flies out and gets hurt. My mom’ll kill me.” He looked around at the others.  

“I’m not going to fall out. I’ll hold on super tight.” She paused, looking at Allister.  "Puleeeez!”

“God, you’re a pain,” he said. “Okay, but hold on tight! Wrap your legs and your arms around the middle pole. And it goes in circles when it’s moving, so don’t barf!”

Nick and Allister helped Jemma get into the egg-collector bin. She did as she was told, and held on tight. Allister took the first turn, not pushing as hard as he could, worried that she would get hurt.

Woosh! She was flying! She opened her mouth and screamed in delight! This was better than she thought it could be. She was moving so fast, and spinning around at the same time. It was better than the rides that the fair that you had to be “this tall” to ride — it was the best thing, ever.

They all took turns pushing her, faster and faster. She loved it! Nick won the competition because he was the biggest and strongest. He sent Jemma sailing down the middle aisle almost thirty feet.

Jemma wanted to see the second floor, to see if there was another bin up there, maybe a faster one.

“Don’t bother, Germa, it’s exactly like this floor,” said Nick.

“I wanna see!” insisted Jemma.

She hopped out of the bin and ran to the stairs.  

“Seriously, Jemma, there’s nothing to see,” said Sierra.

“Please! I’ll let you push me!’

She raced up the stairs, with the others behind her. The second floor was almost exactly like the first floor, except Jemma could see the blue sky through a giant hole in the roof. It was almost like being outside. She loved it.

Without hesitation, Jemma jumped into the bin.  

“Push me!” she squealed. “Fast!”  

Allister jogged down to the far end to make sure he could stop her before the end because of the debris from the roof lying on the floor.  

Nick pushed her first — winner goes first. Nick backed up and ran towards the bin. Jemma held tight to the middle pole so she wouldn’t catapult out the side.

She shut her eyes and squealed with delight.  

She opened her eyes, and her squeals turned to screams.

“What?” yelled Allister running towards her.  

“There’s someone over along the wall,” she said, her voice rising in fear as she pointed to a spot just before the cave-in.

She wanted to stop, and get off, and go home, but she was moving too fast. Allister tried to stop her, but he couldn’t. Jemma felt the jolt at the bin hit him, and he went flying into the pile of wood and shingles from the roof cave-in. He moaned.

The bin slowed down, and Jemma saw Nick, Jordan, and Sierra running towards her. She pointed where she had seen the person.

“There! There! Over there!” They ran to where she was pointing.  

“Oh my God. There’s someone there,” said Sierra.

“It’s a body!” said Nick, looking surprised.

“It’s my brother,” said Jordan, taking a couple of steps towards the body. “Danny. He didn’t come home last night. The old man was ranting about killing him. Too late, I guess.” 

Jemma jumped out of the bin and stood there, frozen. She looked at the body, and turned and looked towards Allister, who was starting to get up out of the debris. Suddenly there was a loud cracking sound, and Allister disappeared. Jemma sucked in her breath. One second he was there, the next he was gone. She could hear him scream, and then heard a thud below her.  

Jemma ran toward the hole where Allister had just disappeared. “Allister, are you okay?” She poked her head through the opening, and saw Allister laying on the floor, a look of pain on his face. 

“Get back, Jemma. The floor’s not safe.”

Sierra grabbed Jemma’s arm, and pulled her back. They ran down the rickety stairs to where Allister lay on the floor. He didn’t look too good. He was holding his arm, and moaning.

He looked at Sierra, then up towards the second floor, saying nothing.

Sierra and Allister exchanged looks. “It’s Jordan’s brother, Danny, the second oldest. I think he’s … hurt. Badly.” 

Jemma’s head snapped to look at Sierra. “Is he dead?” she asked.

Jemma saw Sierra look at Allister, who shook his head slightly.  

“No,” Sierra said, “I think he’s just hurt.”

Jemma was pretty sure he was dead. If he wasn’t dead, then he would be moving. She didn’t know Jordan’s brother, but she felt sad for Jordan. She knew that she would be sad if something really bad happened to Allister.  Other than falling through a hole.

“Are you okay?” Sierra asked Allister.

“I think I broke my arm. And it really hurts.”

Nick and Jordan came down the stairs.

Jordan looked dazed. “It’s Danny. He’s —“

“Hurt,” said Sierra.

“Yeah,” said Jordan. “He’s hurt.”

“We need to get help,” said Nick. “For Danny and Allister.”  

“Can you ride?” Sierra asked Allister.

“I don’t think so.” He stood up slowly. Jemma was so happy that he could get up by himself. Not like Danny.  

Allister called everyone over. “Danny’s really sick. He needs an ambulance, right now. But, we have to go. No one can know that we were here.” He looked Jemma in the eye. “You can’t tell any one, ever, that we were here. Do you understand?”

“Why?” She was starting to feel scared. Allister wanted her to lie. She never lied. Not ever.

“Because Jemma, we will get in trouble if people find out that we were here.”

“You’ve got to promise, Jemma,” said Jordan.

Jemma looked around at the others. They were all looking at her. “But what about your arm? What are you going to tell Mom and Dad.”

“We’ll tell them I fell off my bike.” He looked at her. “Can you do that, Jemma?”

“But it’s lying.” This was not good. Jemma didn’t want to lie. But she didn’t want them all to get into trouble.

“We’ve got to tell this fib, so that Jordan’s dad doesn’t get mad at him.”

“But what about Danny?” she asked, looking at Jordan.

“We’ll call the ambulance when we find a phone.” Allister looked at her again. “Please, Jemma. You’ve got to promise me you won’t say anything.”  He looked so scared, that it made Jemma even more scared.

“Okay,” she said finally. “But you can’t call me Germa any more.” She looked around at the group. “None of you!'

“Done!” said Nick.

They had to walk their bikes home because Allister couldn’t ride. Nick and Sierra pushed his bike between them, and he limped along beside Jordan. When they reached Jordan’s street, he got on his bike and pedalled away without saying goodbye. Jemma watched him go. She didn’t know that it was the last time that she would see Jordan that summer. By September he’d moved away.

When their mom got home, Allister told her he fell off of his bike. She asked Jemma what happened. Jemma told her mom the first lie of her life.

“I dunno. I think he fell off of his bike.” She couldn’t look at her mom.

That night, Jemma had a nightmare. She was at the Chicken House. It was dark and she was the only one there, except for Danny who was running after her, yelling at her not to lie. She woke up crying.

2021

Jemma thought about that day at the Chicken House. Years later she had located the police report — an anonymous call about the body of an unidentified man at an abandoned farm. No foul play suspected. Toxicology confirmed an overdose.  

She thought about how much that day at the Chicken House had influenced her life. She had become a police officer, and was now a detective. It was her job to investigate any death like Danny’s, accidental or otherwise. It was the least she could do for Jordan.

She opened her contacts list, and scrolled down to Nick’s name. They were by no means close, but they had kept in touch. She dialled his number.

“Jemma! Long time no talk! How’s the thin blue line?”

“Blue and thin. How’s it with you?”

“Flying the blue skies. Seeing places, meeting people.” Jemma smiled. Nick was a cargo pilot for Amazon. “What’s up?”

“I just spoke with Allister, and he’s thinking about writing a story about the summer of 1997.”

“Why would he want to do that? I had nightmares for years after that.”

Jemma was surprised. Nick didn’t seem like the nightmare type.  

“Me, too,” she admitted. “Allister just wants to get together this weekend at his house, and see what we all remembered — make sure he has all the facts.”

There was a pause on Nick’s end. “I’m not sure how much good it’ll do. We were all there.” He paused. “Has anyone been able to contact Jordan?”

“No,” said Jemma. “Even I couldn’t find him, and I’ve got access to a world of law enforcement databases.” That wasn’t exactly true, but Nick didn’t need to know that.

“Allister and Sierra still married?” he asked, hope in his voice.

“Of course they are? Why are you asking such a stupid question?” Nick had liked Sierra, but she had loved Allister.  

“A guy can hope,” he said, and laughed.

“No,” she said, “He can’t. Are you going to be able to come over? After dinner on Saturday night?”

“Sure. I’ve got the address.”

“Great! See you then.” She disconnected the call.

Jordan, she thought. Where the hell are you?