Finders Weepers

Like every Friday that had come before, Jayce’s patience was on the brink of collapse as he could no longer contain his excitement. As soon as he got home from school, he dropped his backpack on the floor next to the desk in his bedroom. Pulling off his shirt, he walked over to his closet and grabbed his grubby, old work clothes and sneakers. Following his usual weekend ritual, he quickly changed and headed out to the shed behind his house. Upon yanking open the double doors on the dilapidated wooden building, Jayce stepped into the dim interior. His dad’s metal detector was right where he always left it. Snatching it up, along with a hand trowel, he ducked back outside and closed the doors behind him.

Over the past several months, he had been systematically and meticulously scanning over every last inch of the vast acreage of land that his family’s farmhouse was located on. His obsession with this particular hobby had begun right after he found an antique diamond ring. Though it was worth a small fortune, his parents told him that he could keep it. It was his to do with as he pleased. Seeing as how he was only fourteen years old and was saving every penny he could for the future car of his dreams, he decided to sell it at the local pawnshop.

After having been given his parents’ permission to keep whatever he managed to find, Jayce had enthusiastically embarked on his journey to becoming rich. Despite the fact that he hadn’t managed to find anything of any real significance or value since the discovery of that ring, he still dutifully searched their property every single weekend as long as the weather permitted.

With metal detector in hand, he trudged out to one of the heavily wooded areas of his family’s land. Making his way out beyond the places he had previously searched, he turned on the device and started scanning a new section of ground. After about an hour of exploring and finding nothing more than an old pop can tab and a couple of pennies, the detector started to let out a strong, steady signal. Jayce quickly honed in on the spot, sat his metal detector aside and grabbed the small gardening trowel that was sticking up out of his back pocket. He then hastily got to work and started digging.

About four or five inches under the soil, his trowel struck against an object, making a clanking sound as it did so. Putting aside his tool, Jayce used his fingers to deftly feel around the edges of the thing and pry it out of the ground. Brushing off the bits of dirt that still clung to it, he could finally see that what he had found was a small, old, rusty metal box. Etched into the top was some sort of figure. It was difficult to make out any details, but the bit that he could see appeared to be a horned creature standing upright on two legs. Looking at the beast gave him an uneasy feeling, but he shook it off and continued his appraisal.

Dangling from the front of the box was a tiny padlock from a long gone era. Because of its age, it was so badly deteriorated that Jayce was able to break it off without much effort. Hoping that he had stumbled across something truly valuable, he took a deep breath, crossed his fingers and slowly lifted the box’s lid. Nestled in the middle of a cloth lining, he found a beautiful, intricately carved, cigar-shaped whistle that appeared to be made from bone. Even though the box it was in looked like it had been buried for more than a century, the whistle itself seemed to be in pristine condition.

Curious at just what sort of sound such a lovely whistle would make, Jayce gently held it up to his lips and gave it a blow. Surprisingly, it made no sound whatsoever. Perhaps he needed to blow harder? He gave it another try, but still no sound was made. Looking it over, he could see no reason why it wouldn’t work and put his lips to it one last time. A strong breeze kicked up as soon as he blew on it, raising goosebumps on his arms. Great, he thought as he shook off the cold, all I managed to find is a fancy dog whistle.

Just then, the phone in his pocket buzzed. Jayce put the whistle back in its case, tucked it away in his jeans and pulled the phone out. A new text message from his mom told him that it was time for dinner. The thought of a delicious home-cooked meal lit a fire under his feet. He quickly gathered up his tools and took off at a steady jog. Stopping only momentarily at the shed to put the metal detector and hand trowel away, he made his way back to his house.

As he entered the back door, he dug into his jeans to get out the small box containing the whistle and show it to his mom. “Look what I found in the woods today.”

“What’s that, Dear?” she asked absentmindedly as she stirred some sauce on the stove. While Jayce struggled to free the box from his front pocket, his mother glanced over at him. “Good heavens, look at you! You’re filthy! Take those dirty shoes off, leave them on the porch and then go get cleaned up.”

“But I wanted to show—” He couldn’t finish his sentence before his mom cut him off.

“You can show me later,” she waved him off. “I’ve gotta keep an eye on the stove or dinner will be ruined. Besides, I want you cleaned up before your father gets home.”

“Fine,” Jayce sighed. He ran up the stairs to his room and sat his newfound treasure on his nightstand before grabbing some clean clothes and heading into the bathroom.

The rest of Jayce’s weekend had been pretty uneventful. However, when he arrived to school on Monday morning, the halls seemed to be abuzz with gossip. As he stood in front of his locker—digging his books out of his backpack—his best friend, Paul, came up and grabbed him by the shoulder.

“Dude, did you hear about what happened last night? Everyone’s talking about it.”

“Naw, man. I just got here.” Jayce gave a toss of his head to flick his dark blond hair out of his eyes. “Why, what’s up?”

Paul leaned in close and dropped his voice to a whisper, as if letting him in on a secret. “It’s about Coach Davies. Apparently, he was killed.”

“Seriously?” Jayce turned to look at his friend in disbelief.

“Yeah. I heard that it was really brutal too. Like, he-wasn’t-found-in-one-piece kind of brutal.” Jayce’s hazel eyes went wide as he waited for Paul to elaborate. “Most people seem to think it was some sort of animal attack, maybe a bear or something.”

“Sounds like you don’t buy into that.”

“You know that Chris Steiner’s mom works for the Sheriff’s Department, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, Chris told me that his mom said that Coach’s head was torn clean off, and there weren’t any signs of predation either.”

Jayce shook his head. “No, that definitely doesn’t sound like typical bear behavior.”

“And get this,” Paul continued, “the only thing that seemed to be missing was the whistle that Coach always wore around his neck. I mean, what kind of bear kills someone just to steal their whistle?”

Before they could discuss the situation any further, the three-minute warning bell sounded. Jayce quickly finished up at his locker, and the two boys strolled off down the hallway. When they entered their history class, they took their usual seats at the back of the classroom and quietly talked as everyone got settled. At the front of the room, their teacher tapped a ruler against his podium to get everyone’s attention and started the roll call.

Mr. Skinner had only just finished taking attendance when the morning announcements came on over the loudspeaker. The voice that relayed the day’s news was solemn as it reported the tragic death of Coach Davies. After a moment of silence was held, the voice reminded all staff and students that counselors would be made available to all of those that felt the need to talk about what had happened.

Though Mr. Skinner was sympathetic to the situation, he was all business as usual. He wasn’t about to let anything throw off his schedule for the day or set back his students’ studies. “We’ve been learning about the Salem Witch Trials because they were the most famous witch trials to take place in our country, but there were many other places that were touched by the same paranoia and religious zealotry. In fact, our own little town once persecuted an innocent woman as a witch.”

A quiet murmur of surprise passed among the students in the room as they listened with interest. Once the room had descended into silence again, Mr. Skinner proceeded to tell of the account. He explained how, in the late 1680′s, there lived a young couple who had just given birth to their first child. Their baby had been born with a large, red birthmark on its face, and many of the locals took it as a sign that the newborn had been touched by evil. The baby had also been quite small and sickly at the time of its birth, and the weak child died less than a month after it had come into the world. Several of the townsfolk suspected that the mother, Mrs. Hays, had made a deal with the devil—offering up her child as a sacrifice.

Around the same time that the infant had passed, many of the children in town came down with a severe, unknown illness. When some of the children inevitably succumbed to their sickness, the grieving parents immediately turned their ire on Mrs. Hays. Their grief and hatred caused them to gather in a mob and drag the woman from her home in the middle of the night. Her terrified husband was viciously restrained and forced to watch as his innocent wife was tied to a pyre and burned to death.

When Mr. Skinner was done telling the tale, Paul raised his hand. “What happened after Mrs. Hays was killed? Were any of the members of the mob ever prosecuted for their crime?”

“Not in the legal sense,” the teacher answered hesitantly.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, there were unsubstantiated rumors that Mr. Hays did get revenge upon the townspeople who took part in his wife’s murder. The matter delves into the supernatural, however, and there is no evidence to back up the claims of what took place aside from the documented deaths of a dozen or so people at the time.”

A girl in the middle row of the classroom spoke up, “What were the rumors?”

Mr. Skinner sighed, knowing full well that his students wouldn’t be satisfied until he told them. “It is said that Mr. Hays began to dabble in the occult in search of a way to get retribution. He spent months researching black magic and witchcraft. Eventually, he stumbled upon a book that showed him how to create an object which would allow him to summon a demon to do his bidding.”

“What kind of object?” a student up at the front inquired.

“As far as I know, it was some sort of whistle. They say that it was made from human bone, possibly even a bone from the Hays’ own deceased child. Supposedly, the man successfully summoned a demon with it. He used it to control the foul creature and force it to kill all of those who had wronged him. Once he had gotten his revenge, he purportedly buried the whistle somewhere in the woods and then left the town for good.”

Jayce’s face paled at the words of his teacher. His thoughts automatically went to the strange metal box that he had dug up just days earlier. “Did anyone ever find the whistle?” He could barely restrain the nervousness that crept into his voice as he spoke.

“No, of course not. Like I said, there’s nothing to substantiate such outlandish claims. More than likely, the townspeople that died had fallen ill from the same disease that killed their children. The survivors made up stories about demons and vengeance to fit into their religious views and explain away things that they had no understanding of in that era.” Mr. Skinner’s explanation did very little to ease Jayce’s troubled mind.

For the next few classes, he was practically a zombie. All of his thoughts were fixed on the completely innocent looking object sitting on his nightstand back at home. Could it really be the very same whistle that his teacher had spoken of? No, that was absurd. Jayce tried to convince himself that it was ridiculous to even entertain the idea. After all, if such an object did exist, it would have been buried for well over three hundred years. The box, that contained the beautiful whistle he had found, looked old but definitely not that old.

By the time the final bell of the day rang out, signaling that all of the students were free to leave, Jayce had managed to clear his mind of worry. He was perfectly certain of three things: the etching of the ominous creature on the front of the metal box was absolutely not a demon, the suspiciously ivory-colored whistle was not made of bone but of wood, and the stupid thing didn’t even work. That was that. Jayce had very firmly decided that he would not waste a single second more thinking about that darn whistle.

Two more days had passed without incident. Despite the ongoing investigation into Coach Davies’ gruesome murder, the town seemed to be every bit as calm and boring as usual. The return to normal had done wonders in putting Jayce’s mind at ease and helping him to remain relatively worry free. That is, of course, right up until the moment that another mutilated body had been found.

This time, the victim was a teenage girl who worked as a lifeguard at the local civic center. Even though there had been plenty of people around at the time, not a single person claimed to have seen anything out of the ordinary. Several witnesses had seen the girl go into the changing room after her early evening shift had ended, but they couldn’t recall seeing anyone enter the room after her.

All of the patrons had been patiently waiting for the next lifeguard to arrive so that they could return to the pool. They only had to wait about ten minutes for the replacement to get there and very quickly discover the girl’s lifeless, decimated corpse. Just as had happened with Coach Davies, even though the lifeguard’s body was torn asunder, the only thing that appeared to be missing was the whistle that had been hanging around the girl’s neck.

Authorities had no idea what to make of the hideously violent crimes, and the townspeople were in an uproar. A very strict curfew was enacted, and all kids were to return to their homes immediately after school. No one was to be out past 8:00pm unless it was for an emergency. No other exceptions would be allowed.

With everything that was happening, Jayce could no longer deny the obvious. As much as he hated to admit it, he knew that he was responsible for the deaths of two innocent people. But how could he prevent any more people from dying? What was the creature’s motive for killing? He didn’t know anything about demons; he was just a stupid kid who was in way over his head.

No, now was not the time to be feeling sorry for himself or thinking so negatively. Jayce didn’t know much, but he could at least start with what little he did know, and maybe he could also get some help from his best friend. After all, two heads were always better than one. As soon as he got to school in the morning, he would talk to Paul, and the two of them would be able to figure out what to do.

When the morning came, Jayce got ready for school in record time. He tossed the whistle, box and all, into his backpack and took off down the stairs. His mom called out to him, telling him to stop and eat some breakfast before leaving, but he was out the front door before she could even finish her sentence.

Racing to school on his bike, he made it there with plenty of time to spare before the morning bell. The first thing he did was head directly to Paul’s locker. He waited impatiently for about ten minutes before his friend finally showed up. Not even giving him time to put his stuff away, Jayce grabbed him by the arm and hauled him into the boys bathroom.

“What the hell, bro?” Paul was taken aback by the sense of urgency coming from Jayce. “What’s got you so worked up this morning? Did Halle finally acknowledge your existence or something?” He laughed but only until he saw the look in his friend’s eyes.

“Dude, you are not going to believe what I have to tell you.” Jayce had never looked so serious in all his life.

Without even barely pausing to take a breath, he poured his guts out to Paul. He told him all about the whistle—where and when he found it, how he tried to blow on it with seemingly no success, and how he just knew it had to be the very same whistle that Mr. Hays had crafted all those centuries ago.

Before Paul could make any objections to his claims, Jayce pulled the cursed thing out of his backpack and showed it to him. “Just look at the box it’s in. There’s a freaking demon etched onto it!” He could hardly keep his voice down. “And just look at the whistle itself. It’s definitely made of bone, just like Mr. Skinner told us in class.”

Paul couldn’t deny what was right in front of his face. “Whoa. I think you really found the real deal. I mean, this thing totally looks legit.”

“I know, right? And the timing of it all? It was only after I found this thing and blew on it that people started dying.” Jayce’s face looked completely crestfallen as he spoke his next words, “I summoned a demon, and now people are dead because of me.”

“It’s not your fault.” Just then, the warning bell rang. “Look, we’ll talk more about this at lunch. We’ll figure something out, and everything will be okay.”

Morning classes seemed to drag on for far longer than usual, but Jayce was immensely relieved once lunchtime finally came around. After grabbing their sack lunches out of their lockers, the two boys made a beeline for the cafeteria. They found an empty table, away from everyone else, where they could talk quietly amongst themselves.

Paul was the first to speak. “So, I’ve been doing some thinking, and I might have figured out what the demon wants.”

“It wants to kill everyone related to the people who burned Mrs. Hays as a witch,” Jayce stated.

“That’s what I thought at first too, but I’m pretty sure that’s not it. Coach Davies wasn’t from around here. He and his family moved here only a few years ago.”

“Okay, so what do you think it wants?”

“It’s looking for the whistle. That’s why both Coach and that lifeguard had theirs come up missing.”

“I suppose that does make sense. I mean, the whistle was specifically made to summon and control the demon.”

“Exactly. If there was an object that could summon and control me on a whim, I’d want to find the darn thing and destroy it.”

“Well, I can’t just sit back and wait for the demon to find me. God only knows how many people it could kill before then. What I need to know is exactly how the whistle is used to control it.”

“I’m afraid the only way to find out is to blow on it again.” Paul’s suggestion was not the least bit reassuring.

The boys took some time to hatch a plan. It was really stupid and would probably get them killed, but there was nothing else they could think of to keep the demon from killing any more innocent people.

As soon as school let out for the day, Jayce texted his mom to let her know that he would be staying at Paul’s house for the night and not to worry. Paul also texted his mom to tell her that he would be at Jayce’s place.

Instead of going to either one of their homes, the two boys took their bikes and headed out into the forest. They made their way to an old treehouse that they used to play in when they were younger. It was out in the middle of nowhere, so if their plan went south, at least there wouldn’t be any unknowing bystanders around who could potentially get hurt.

Dumping their bikes and backpacks at the bottom of the tree, they then climbed the rope ladder up to the treehouse that was roughly fifteen or so feet off the ground. Jayce hastily pulled the ladder up after them as anxiety began to set in.

Paul’s nerves were also present in his voice as he looked at his friend and said, “It’s now or never.”

With shaky hands, Jayce managed to yank the box containing the whistle out of his pocket. He paused for a moment to look at the ominous figure on the lid before fumbling to get it open. Resigning himself to whatever fate had in store for him, he took a deep breath and puckered his lips. Slowly bringing the whistle up to his mouth, he stopped before he could blow on it.

He looked at Paul. “You know, you don’t have to be here for this. You should leave now while you still have the chance.”

“No way, bro. We’re in this thing together. You’ve always had my back, and now it’s time for me to have yours.”

Jayce only hesitated for a moment more. Before he could lose all of his courage, he quickly placed his lips around the end of the intricately designed piece of bone and emptied the full capacity of his lungs into it. Just like the first time he had blown on it, the whistle didn’t make even the slightest audible sound.

After a few seconds had passed, a terrible roaring wind came rushing through the forest. The force of it made the treehouse sway as small limbs and branches battered its sides. Both boys almost lost their footing while trying to remain upright. Only minutes ticked by before the wind began to die down, but it had seemed like much longer.

Once they were able to stabilize themselves, the pair dashed over to one of the open windows to get a good look outside. To their horror, the hideous creature from the box lid etching was standing on the ground below them in all of its monstrous glory. Two thick, twisted horns adorned the beast’s head. Its eyes were bottomless pits of pitch black death that stared out of a red, bony, grotesque face. The demon’s massively muscular, human-like upper body was supported by the legs of a goat—the hooves of which singed the ground that it stood upon. A lengthy, thin, rope-like tail hung down and lay coiled upon the earth behind the creature. Last but not least, two enormous leathery wings, attached to the demon’s back, half folded in on themselves as their skeletal, finger-like tips barely grazed the knee-high brush that covered the forest floor.

Like two statues frozen with fear, the boys stared at the demon, and the demon just stared right back. With only the very smallest of movement from his mouth, Jayce asked Paul, “Do you think it knows I’m its master?”

Before Paul could utter any sort of response, the frightening creature below let out a deep, guttural, wicked laugh. The sound of it vibrated through the boys’ bodies and raised the hair on their arms. Finally, Paul found his voice as he whispered, “Blow the whistle again.”

Trembling from the adrenaline pumping through his veins, Jayce did just as his friend commanded. Though he was unable to hear the sound the whistle made, the demon very obviously could. Almost as soon as Jayce had put the little trinket up to his mouth, the heinous monstrosity let loose a bone-chilling howl that ripped through the air and echoed across the atmosphere.

In a fit of rage, the demon slammed one of its mighty fists into the trunk of the tree that was holding the small house aloft. The entire treehouse shuddered, and its old wooden boards creaked and groaned. The boys braced themselves for the impact of another powerful blow. This time, the tree trunk split in two. The rusted nails holding the house in place broke free as the wood splintered around them, and the two friends plummeted toward the ground.

In the chaos of the moment, the whistle had slipped out of Jayce’s grasp. He began to frantically search for it inside of the tiny wooden fortress that was now barely holding together. Before Paul could join him in his efforts, the demon outside started busting through what remained of the treehouse walls. Its big, ugly face peered into the hole that it had just created.

While Jayce continued to ignore the demon in favor of finding the whistle, Paul found himself in the creature’s direct line of sight. One giant fist grabbed him by the front of his shirt and tossed him through the air as if he weighed nothing. Hitting into the side of a tree, he tumbled to the ground but was only disoriented for a brief minute. The demon was now going after Jayce, and Paul knew he had to do something to distract the beast.

Finding the courage that he didn’t know he had, Paul bravely threw himself at the monster. With all of his strength, he tore at one of its wings and managed to break the bony protrusion tethering the thing to the creature’s back. Enraged, the demon growled and turned its attention back to the annoying pest of a boy.

While Paul tried to run away, the demon’s long tail shot out like a whip and wrapped itself around the boy’s neck. Sputtering and choking, Paul’s face quickly turned from red to blue as his oxygen supply was rapidly depleting. Clutching at the tail, he desperately tried to tear the thing off himself but his strength was waning, and he was on the brink of losing consciousness.

“Hey!” Jayce shouted from the broken remains of the treehouse. Looking like an avenging angel, he triumphantly held the whistle up high in his outstretched hand. The demon immediately released Paul, and the boy dropped to the ground in a heap. Before the beast could make even one more move, Jayce raised the whistle to his mouth and blew with all his might.

On that third and final blow, the demon instantly vanished without a trace. The air went completely still, and the sounds of birds chirping returned to the forest. A serene calmness settled over the land. Flooded with relief, Jayce rushed over to his friend to make sure he was alright. A bit battered and bruised, Paul was no worse for the wear.

Looking up at his best friend, Paul spoke in a raspy voice, “We need to destroy that damn whistle.”

Doing just that, the two boys built a small campfire and tossed the whistle into the middle of it. They waited until the bone was burned to ash before putting out the fire. When all was said and done, they picked up their backpacks and bikes and started back towards town.

“You know,” Jayce said, “I think maybe it’s time for me to find a new hobby. That whole metal detecting thing just isn’t worth the hassle.”