"And here I thought you dressed for the occasion." Jackson laughs from somewhere over my shoulder.
"The Hollow Fields Scarecrow." I say slowly. "Nope, haven't heard about that yet."
"How did you think you were gonna be one of us without knowing the lore?" One of the guys laughs. His name is either Evan or Ian or... something like that.
"So, tell me about it." I shrug.
They're acting like it's some big thing. I have the feeling they're about to tell me a ghost story, and my defenses are already rising, fully expecting to be hazed. My luck, someone's gonna come stumbling out of the cornstalks acting like a crazed murderer. I've seen enough scary movies to know how this is about to unfold. Let's play a prank on the new girl, welcome her to the Midwest with acornylittle prank.
"You need another drink." Krowe says, pulling me away from his friend and reeling me against him. The solid weight of his arm feels like a comfort it has no business being, considering I barely know him. But as he offers me a hard cider, the top already twisted off for me, I smile in appreciation.
Cider's still a bit bitter for my taste, but it beats the beer, and it will be easier to stay in the green than if I were drinking the bourbon. With an alcoholic mother, even if you don't drink a lot, you learn pretty quickly where your own lines in the sand are.
I drink half the bottle of cider right away, ignoring the bitter taste it as I prepare for whatever prank they're about to pull on me.
"Okay," I sigh, trying not to focus on the rolling in my stomach as all the liquor mixes around without anything to absorb it. I forgot to grab something to eat before I left, and lunch was hours ago. It's getting late. "Tell me about the scarecrow."
Rhodes' grin splits his face, making him look somewhat like a jack-o-lantern beneath the moon's pale glow.
"You sure you can handle it? Not gonna piss yourself, are you?"
"I'm good, thanks." I laugh.
He's brought up a great point that I've been trying to ignore, though. Out here in the middle of the cornfield, there's no bathroom, obviously. I suppose it's not a problem for them, what with having the privilege of whipping their dick out anywhere,but I sincerely hope they're not pissing on the corn. I hope even more sincerely that the night is almost over, because as nice as it's been, I actuallydohave to pee, and I have zero interest in doing that here.
There's a chorus of laughter, broken by the soft kiss of Krowe's lips on the side of my jaw. I turn to him, surprised; he only smirks before pulling back.
"It's been fifty years, down to the day, since the Scarecrow was born."
"Ooh," I roll my eyes from Jackson back to Rhodes, who smirks.
"The seventies were a good decade for music and drugs." Someone chuckles. "Bad decade for the crops."
"Corn was the only crop that made it that year... 1975. Some say the town was cursed. Strawberries never bloomed, beans never sprouted, even the apples in the orchards were full of rot. But the corn grew that year, and that made it the most important crop our town's got. The problem was the animals were suffering from the lack of crops too, which made the corn the only option."
I watch the face of the man telling the story, Nico, and wonder whether they realize in the seventies there were grocery stores...evenin Hollow Fields.
I understand needing to protect your livelihood, but they're acting like they would have all starved if they couldn't harvest the corn.
"The farmers tried everything, but the damn crows wouldn't stay away. They'd wake up to rows of cobs stripped and pecked at, rows of product they couldn't sell after months of work. They put out scarecrows, shot birds right out of the sky, sprayed them with the hose... but the crows always came back."
"Old Man Thompson was a bum that used to live in that old house up on the hill there." Rhodes gestures to empty space behind him. "You can't see it. But he got sent to fight in Nam,and when he came back his momma was gone and buried. There was a new family living there, and he snapped. Killed the parents while they slept, so they wouldn't stop him when he went after the children. Four of them, and he slaughtered them all like pigs."
"Oh, God." My stomach feels acrid, suddenly weak with the incredibly violent turn the story took.
"There ain't no God in that house." Someone intones.
"They found him cooking the father's head on the stove. Said it was the only way to get rid of the man's evil thoughts. Sheriff came and locked him up, and the town deliberated his punishment. Death sentence seemed too harsh for someone who was clearly mentally unwell, and a mental asylum didn't seem right for someone who fought for our country. There were debates and petitions, protests in the street over what everyone wanted done with the bastard. But the family he killed? They had a son who came home from college to deal with the estate, and everyone agreed it should be his right to choose the punishment for Old Man Thompson, seeing it washisfamily the man slaughtered."
My head is spinning, and I'm having a hard time following the story now. I was prepared for something silly, and it started that way. But it quickly turned into something... vile. I think I might be sick, but Krowe's the only thing holding me up right now, so I swallow it down and focus on taking shallow breaths through my nose.
"He remembered the problem with the crows and decided it was only fair. They came for him in the middle of the night... dragged him out of the jail and brought him here..." Nico gestures to the stake set out at the back of the clearing, where a limp scarecrow hangs with some straw slipping out of the bottom of its pants.
"They... left him there?" I gasp, unable to get a good breath.
Jesus, what is wrong with me? Everything feels… wrong.
"Oh yeah.”
