Old Gods of Appalachia - Episode 63: The Ways of the Dead

Episode Date: February 22, 2024

Decisions are made in the place where the veil stands thin.CW: References to the deaths of children in the practice of child labor, death of a parent, death in pollution-related circumstances, disfigurement, sex work, infertility. Loud animal noise, high pitched whistling, and sounds of emotional distress. Written by Cam Collins and Steve Shell Narrated by Steve ShellSound design by Steve ShellProduced and edited by Cam Collins and Steve ShellIntro music: “The Land Unknown (The Bloody Roots Verses)” written and performed by Landon BloodOutro music: “Atonement” written and performed by Jon Charles DwyerSpecial equipment consideration provided by Lauten Audio.LEARN MORE ABOUT OLD GODS OF APPALACHIA: www.oldgodsofappalachia.comCOMPLETE YOUR SOCIAL MEDIA RITUAL:FacebookInstagramTwitterBlueskySUPPORT THE SHOW:Join us over at THE HOLLER to enjoy ad-free episodes, access exclusive storylines and more.Find t-shirts, hoodies, mugs, and other Old Gods merch at www.teepublic.com/stores/oldgodsofappalachia.Transcripts available on our website at www.oldgodsofappalachia.com/episodes.Support this show http://supporter.acast.com/old-gods-of-appalachia. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

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Right about now. Old Gods of Appalachia is a whore. anthology podcast and therefore may contain material not suitable for all audiences so listener discretion is advised in the light of the old mining lantern the man who styled himself JT fields of Dorchester looked old the artificial moon that hung caged in the hand of the boy in the mining cap cast every line etched into the old trickster's face in stark relief. His dark hair was silvered at the temples, and it thinned as it crossed the crown of his head. There was a sickly roominess that haunted his striking brown eyes, and a slight slump to his shoulders like you'd

see in a man who'd been on his feet for days, weeks. Held decades at the same job the ones, the One thing the light didn't reveal was fear. Jack Fields was not afraid as he stood there facing down a veritable army of the dead. He licked his lips and looked into the cold-smudged face of the general of that grim legion. We require passage through the ways of the dead, old friend. These poor souls were hoodwinked and bamboozled by a dark-touched haint from yon woods. They were strong-armed into a promise for the life of the babe that rests in the young Mrs. his womb.

The father's a bit of a duller, as I understand, and easily tricked. You know about those with power and their tricks, don't you, young feller? The thing that wore the shape of a... And what concern is the conduct of fools to such as we? Man's mouth right checks his ass can on her. Last I heard that wasn't my problem, Jack. Jack's eyes. And that was no exaggeration.

Junie would swear she saw them literally sparkle, as if the boy had said exactly what Jack hoped to hear, and he had the perfect response. He spread his arms in a gesture that for all the world looked like a magician performing a trick. And she thought to herself the comparison wasn't far off the mark. Not far at all. Ah, but my boy,

there is an innocent life at risk here. Isn't that why you and yours walk these lonely paths of-engin, re-venging, just venginging in general? Jack held forth. What if you could spare a young in its life before it ever known what a coal mine was? Is it the baby's fault that his daddy is a darn fool who bartered a life that weren't his to trade? The boy considered this for a moment. His form flickering from the young man Jack had been conversing with so, of course, to that of a burning hole in a mountainside, then shifting into the shape of the tiniest casket

Junie had ever seen. Her eyes pricked with tears and she dabbed at them with the sleeve of her dress. And a lot of boys buried due to their daddy's follies and the boss's greed, you speak true on that point, Jack? I, that I do. And a boon you do owe me, one of three. The boy glared up at the older man, black eyes smoldering under the brim of his cap. One of those have been repaid. Two lives taken for two lives saved. The boy almost snarled in his strange, grown man's voice. But with his next words, his voice softened.

The littleins the Underwood boy laid hands on and made whole. They still live? I ain't seen neither one of them on this side of the veil. Jack smiled softly, and in a daring move, rested his hand on the boy's shoulder. Oh, little ones are men grown now, my traveling friend, with sons of their own that they've kept far from their minds. The men who hurt them, the boys shrugged, pulling away from Jack's touch, lay buried beneath old red wine. Never sleeping, never dream.

As was just, Jack concurred solemnly. The boys snorted again derisively. And the fact that those men opposed you in other dealings was never the real reason you, bring them to our notice? Was it, Jackie Boy? You wound me, son? Jack placed his hand dramatically upon his surely breaking heart. To the matter at hand, though, I call in my second debt now. I ask you to get this family at least partly ahead of what pursues them by means of the ways. The boy's cold-colored eyes remained fixed on Jack for a moment longer before he motioned to the truck. Bring him forth.

I'd see for myself those you would have me vary through the ways of the dead. There's no small matter for the living to walk our roads without joining our roads. They are worthy of such labor. Your request is a valid redress of dead. Dead hands clamored for the panel truck's door handles, and Junie started to scream. Wait! cried Jack.

My people will present themselves directly. Don't go getting all grabby, son. Jack said as he smacked a dead boy's hand away. from the passenger side door. The brutal-eyed little thing with its cracked face and off kilterneck shot the man in the plain brown suit an offended look. The horde of ghostly children watched as Jack leaned into the truck and spoke quietly to the living folks inside.

Here in this place, where the veil between the living and the dead was worn thin as cheesecloth. The living carried a glow and a scent that the dead both craved and filled. beard. An older man stepped from the pastoral side of the truck while a younger man climbed down from the back. He turned to help the woman who was heavy with children. A murmur ran through the assembled boys. They saw living folks all the time, but to witness life as yet unborn and all its potential was far less common. To their eyes, the woman glowed like she came to stand beside the younger man. They wanted to surge around her, touch her belly, yet at the The same time feared the heat of that glow, so they hung back warily, still as statues in the silvery light of the lantern.

May I present Mr. Kevin Norris of Hazel County? His daughter, Miss June Gilbert, and her husband, the dullard in question, Trevor Gilbert. Jack Chestered to the family as if they were stock brought to market. Trevor scowled at him but had the good sense to keep his mouth shut. The boy scowled disgustedly as it appraised Trevor. Black eyes. roaming up and down the man's sturdy form. I can smell the drink on you from here, he spanned. I ain't had a drink in months, put in here a year I'll have you know. Trevor protested. A little fella in the cap and overall shook his head.

Don't matter. You can try. And you are trying. All the same. You ain't the brightest and drink makes you dumber. I think you know that. So if you're going to be any kind of good, Daddy. You'll remember that and stay dry as a bone, Mr. Gilbert.

You hear me? As? Trevor nodded shakily and looked away. The boy squinted at old Kev next. Huh. You got the smell of the mines on you, old-timer. Flat top. Long time now. Kevin Norris inclined his head toward the dark shapes that loomed in the near distance. Bent, Bent Laurel. Blue when I... I was a boy. I was in the yard and got pinned under a water tank, broke my leg. Daddy and his brothers died in fire.

Tears danced in the corner of the old Kev's eyes. Ain't no way. My mom was letting me go back to the mines after that. Took the farming with her people instead. Kept their farm after I'm married. The boy drew closer to him. Sounds like your mama had sense at least. There's more.

drew in a long breath through his nose as if scenting the man's grief. The dam that had been swelling inside Kevin Norris finally burst, tears soak in his cheek as he began to weep openly. Words failing him, angered ousting some of her fear. June glared at the boy. Stop it. Whatever you're doing, stop! She snapped, stepping up to wrap a protective arm around her father. Aggie was my mama. She died when I was a girl. The boy ignored her. His eyes remained fixed on old kev. Ones had something to do with her dying, don't you?

His shrewd gaze unmoved by the man's grief. They said it was her liver. Kevin hiccup through his tears, but she always thawed the water out where she used to, where she used to work smelled and tasted funny. It was too close to where they flushed a slurry out of the mines. I always wondered. What wonder, they poison everything.

They ruin everything. They break everything. The boy's voice rose as the fire in him built. They killed your wife just as sure as they dropped a mountain on her. So you'll help then? Jack interjected, attempting to regain control of the situation. This family has been wrong by the very men you seek to stand against. Surely the boy cut him off.

Not so fast, Mr. Feast yourself, as the obvious. leader of this legion of dead children drew close to her, coming within just a few inches to peer up into her face, drawing in another rattling breath through shriveled undead lungs, analyzing her scent like some ghastly bloodhound. Unsettled, June's head jerked in a nod. Burning coal and the dying breaths of a thousand dead men crushed from their bodies like snuffing a can. At this distance she could feel the hate radiating from the small figure, rage and lust for vengeance pouring off of him like standing too close to a stove. Your mama was a camp.

Her mother, a whore mom. Don't try to deny it. So why should I believe you'd be a... So dark and frantic fled, a ghost of a past. You thought rise a hauntly young. Judgment comes and treads off, my friend. But my... See here, young feller!

Jack protested. raising a hand to forestall any other questions. That was just uncalled for. In the same moment, Trevor and old Kev moved to Junie's side as if by some unspoken accord. Her husband pulling her close while her daddy stepped up in front, one arm outstretched as if to bar the boy from reaching her. You've got no right to speak to my daughter that way, Kevin thundered, and his voice was all iron, all trace of his previous tears evaporating in the heat of his rage,

as if sensing a threat in their posses. the army of dead boys began to close ranks around their leader, an angry murmur. Here and there, the glint of metal began to appear amongst the restless crowd, as blades found their ways into ghostly hands from whatever pockets had concealed them. Junie thought she might be the only one who noticed and seeing the danger she spoke, raising her voice to cut through the growing tension. I can speak for myself? She said clearly, will in her words not to falter.

And gently she pulled away from Kevin and laid a hand on her daddy's arm. His head snapped around to look at her, his eyes full of concern and uncertainty. She nodded, giving him a faint but reassuring smile as he stepped aside to let her pass. Her eyes scanned the legion of dead boys and June Gilbert found their leader, and she met his piercing gaze without flinching.

Recognizing she was prepared to give her answer, he raised a hand, shushing his compatriots, as he came forward to meet her. He cocked his head to one side as he squinted up at her. Well, Miss June, what say you? June glanced over her shoulder at her father. Daddy? She prompted, holding out her hand.

for support. Old Kev immediately grabbed her hand, placing the other gently on her back. With his assistance, she lowered herself cautiously to her knees, bringing herself face to face into those fathomless black eyes, and imagined she could see pain and rage flickering in their depths like black flame. She could feel that, rolling off him in waves, and she willed herself not to The ghostly figure was terrifying, and yet he was still a child. A child who had been wronged. A child who had been failed at every turn by the people who should have cared for him, protected him. Little man?

She said, holding the boy's gaze. I can't give you any easy answers. You said my mama was a witch. Yes, she laid the wards around our house, true enough. But my mama didn't inherit none of those. gifts. Maybe if she had, she wouldn't have left us so soon. You asked why I should believe I'll be a good mama. Well, the only answer I have for you is I want nothing more in this world than to have the chance. Y'all have had some mighty harsh words for my man. June glanced around her stern look

encompassing Jack and her father as well as the boy before. And it's true, my Trevor ain't perfect. He thought he could pull one over on, well, something like you, to be honest. He learned the hard way that's a real bad idea. But he only thought he could get away with it because we'd given up on having a family. We tried and tried and when it didn't happen. Junie shrugged. We thought it just wasn't in the Lord's plan for us, but it's all we've wanted for so long. Junie glanced over her shoulder at Trevor, who saw the shine of unshed tears in his eyes.

He nodded back to her in agreement. And she turned, imagine most people think they're going to be good parents. I'm sure most of them have the best intentions, though folks fail for one reason or another. What I can tell you is when you've wanted a child and been denied the way we have, and you finally get your chance to have the family you dreamed of a young. you're going to work extra hard to do right, pipe. I can promise you that. Should you let me walk your road?

One may be the one who pays the price for it. Junie raised a hand to forestall him. I know. It's not your fault our little ones in danger. We have nobody but ourselves to blame. Nobody but me, you mean? Trevor interjected. His voice filled with self-loathing,

but both his wife and the boys she knelt with ignored him. Junie's gaze swept over the ragged army of dead boys before returning to meet the boy's eyes again. I can see you and your friends have been through an awful hot son. Please. If you can find it in your heart, and for the sake of our child, I swear to you we will not fail him

the way your mammas and daddy's failed, y'all. We will give our lives, if need be, to keep him safe. June, boy grunted thoughtfully at chewing his lip for a moment, as he pondered her word with a sigh. He nodded and turned to Jack. Passages granted. This settles our second debt, free and clear. Aye, Jack confirmed his right hand, lifting to rest on his heart.

One good turn for another. The debt is repaid. The boy jerked his head in the general direction of some children hovering near the back of the legion of dead boys who had slowly begun to disperse once the matter was settled. A handful of them scurried off into the murky woods behind them. Kevin and Trevor moved to help Junie to her feet. Each one of them draping one of her arms around the shoulder to better support her weight as they lifted her up between them. They began to guide her back to the truck, but Jack called out to him.

Uh-uh. Into the line for the truck, I'm afraid. Trevor's brow furrowed as he turned to face the older man. You expect my wife to walk? In her condition? Jack shook his head. No, of course not. But you saw the way the engine stalled out a bit ago?

Where we're going, we need an alternate means of transportation. In the middle of the clearing, the boy gave a high-pitched keening whistle. From the shadows of the woods, their feet is beneath the skin of the world. It rose in whirling eddies as have carried by a steady wind, though the air remained as still as the heart of a corpse. on the slab. The dust swarmed like a flock of tiny corvids or iron filings dragged by a magnet, slowly outlining the form of a familiar animal was a shape well known to those who lived under the shadow of

coal. The other beast of burden condemned to die by the thousands across the long and bloody history of mining, sweet-faced creatures who followed their masters into the deep night as loyally as any dog, and who were abandoned there to sleep forever just as often as the boys who drove them. Mule! Only these night black beasts appeared to be made of cold-dust. Were they ghosts, too?

They looked solid enough. Their pencil-led coats gleaming in the dead moonlight of the lantern the boy had accepted as an offering, but every time they shook their head, she caught sight of the dust, falling from the tongue to a halt beside the boy, who stood stroking. their flanks and murmuring to them in tones more gentle than Junie would have imagined hearing from that strange rough boy, and the dead boys who had run to the trees returned, pulling a wooden cart by ropes in their wake. The wagon had clearly seen better days. Its bed cracked and gray with age and damp. The iron spokes of its wheels peppered with rust.

The jockey box listed precariously to the left and its axles creaked as it, it rolled to a stop behind the spectral mules. As the dead children raced around to the front of the cart and began working to hitch the night black creatures to this rickety conveyance, Jack walked a slow circle around it, inspecting the wagon with a critical eye. Old Kev gave a skeptical snort. Now, what in a high holy hell is it supposed to be? You expect the mother of my grandchildren to travel on this nightmare highway on something

that looks like it saw most of its use before Noah ever built his ark? No, I know she don't look like much, Mr. Norris, but she's sturdy enough. Tide as a drum, Jack said confidently, giving the wagon's bed a hearty slap. His smile turned to a wince as a three-inch splinter skewered his palm. Shuckling, he conceded, you might want to grab a couple blankets to sit on from the back of the truck, though. June waited by the wagon with Jack, while Trevor and Kevin fetched their bags and proffered blankets from the Model T.T.'s cargo area.

The two men spread the blankets across the wagon bed and did their best to create a little padded nest out of clothing stuffed rucksacks to protect June from the worst of any bumps in the road. The three of them settled into the cart as comfortably as they could, and Jack removed his jacket and draped it over the jockey seat to protect his posterior from suffering the same fate as his hands. Once he was settled, the boy gave his mules a final pat and handed him the reins. About about 60 miles. One will see you back. cross out of our territory. I can offer no more. Understood, Jack nodded. Thank you, old friend. The boy turned his haunted gaze upon the three travelers in the back of the wagon, his eyes finding Junie's. He tipped his hat respectfully. Best to look to you, Miss June. She gave him an uncertain smile and bobbed her head. Thank you.

And don't forget your promise, the boy added dark. was almost certain she was the only one who recognized the implied threat in his words. A shiver crawled up her spine, but she nodded again. The smile frozen to her face. I won't. And you won't. Jack clucked his tongue at the pair of mules and the wagon began to move at a surprisingly jaunty face. The boys stood watching them as they rolled out of the clearing.

the glowing lantern still resting at his feet, growing dimmer with every pace. Junie kept her eyes on the bright spark until it was only a flicker in the darkness, swallowed them. So off we go into the ways of the dead, a brand new dark corner of our Appalachia, for us to experience on our journey with the Gilberts as they attempt to flee the wrath of Mr. Po. Now, for those of you missing old Haley Poe, or wanting more of it than your daily allowance of murderous, narcissistic, multi-tale murder, fox, bobcat, death, ferret. Well, y'all just sit tight.

You promise we're going to make you sorry for ever thinking of him being out of the picture for a minute was a bad thing. Guess it's going to be one of them be careful of what you wish for type situation because y'all done wished. And, well, no backsies on wishes. Y'all are in no way, shape, or form ready for what's coming next. No, sir, no man. But we've got a lot of exciting things coming up in the very near future in the world of old gods of Appalachia. Over on Patreon, we have the grand finale of Volume 2 of Familiar and Beloved coming at the end of March of 2024. And there's going to be a very extra special piece of bonus content that connects y'all's beloved Taylor Poe popping up on Patreon in the very near future.

And we'll be announcing that on our social media altars very soon. So if you want to know how Taylor Poe became Mr. Poe, you might want to consider head. on over to patreon.com slash old gods of Appalachia and becoming a member, even if it's just for a month. And this is your traveling through the ways of the dead is not recommended for the faint of heart or week of live. A reminder that Old Gods of Appalachia is a production of deep nerd media distributed by Rusty Quill. Today's story was written by Cam Collins and Steve Schell. Our theme song is by Brother Land and Blood, and our outro music atonement, now available in its full version on all streaming platforms is by Brother John Charles Dwyer. We'll talk to you soon, family.

Talk to you real soon.