Willie Bea and the Time the Martians Landed Read online

  She turned around to see Uncle Jimmy standing there, framed in the doorway. He had changed from his blue Sunday suit into his work overalls for doing his evening chores. He’d probably finished them, too. He had taken in their fright.

  Uncle Jimmy glanced at the radio, then at his baby sister, Leah, all dressed up and fixing her face, streaked from crying. He noted the tall stranger sitting over there, and the way the gent carefully removed his elbows from the piano keys. The sound of the piano faded as Uncle Jimmy Wing framed in his mind the words he would later say to Aunt Lu: “Leah got herself a new dude.” He had taken the scene in in a second, and understood it.

  “I heard,” he said, nodding at the radio. “Papa say, yall come on over home. Everybody there now but yall.” He paused. He did not look directly at Willie Bea’s papa or anyone. But Willie Bea felt that he was speaking directly to her papa, listening at him, figuring out how much her papa believed.

  Uncle Jimmy cleared his throat importantly. He looked up, gazing at the flowered wallpaper high above the couch. “They seen them thangs lyin’ low over by the Kelly farm,” he said.

  Suddenly, fear in the room was the shape of a poison-snake. Coiled. Rattles shaking.

  “They gret big,” Uncle Jimmy said, his voice low. “Gleamin’ eyes,” he said. “V-shaped mouths. Big as trees. Big as houses. Tall as a standpipe, I heard—eighty foot high. Over there at the Kelly farm, on the north of town.” With that, he shrugged. Reached behind him. And held up his arm for them to see.

  “Got my shotgun!” he exclaimed grimly, looking directly at Willie Bea’s papa. There in his hand was his deadly shotgun. He knew Willie Bea’s papa didn’t own a gun, wouldn’t have one in his house. Uncle Jimmy stepped out of the house onto the porch. “Yall come on over home,” he said. “There mightn’t be much time.” He closed the door behind him.

  There was something absolutely serious about the sight of Uncle Jimmy’s shotgun. It stunned all of them there in the living room. Any doubt they might have had vanished. The snake of fear struck them hard.

  “Oh, my lord above!” cried Aunt Leah. Getting to her feet, she spilled powder and lipstick on the floor. Mr. Hollis, halfway out of his seat, folded her in as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

  Willie Bea’s mama, always neat, bent to retrieve the make-up. Stuck it in Leah’s purse. “I’m going over home,” her mama said. She rushed out into the kitchen and came back with a modest tin of Halloween candy and her black everyday pocketbook.

  “Marva,” said Willie Bea’s papa.

  “You can stay here if you want to,” Marva said.

  “I didn’t say that. Did I say that?” said her papa.

  “No, but that’s what you might be thinking, to stay,” her mama said. She grabbed up Bay Brother, who was quite happy to be folded against her.

  “Did I say what I was thinking?” her papa said. “I don’t doubt what Leah and Jimmy have heard,” he said, uncertainly.

  “Willie Bea, come on. Bay Sis,” said her mama.

  “Can we trick-and-treat now?” Bay Sister asked.

  “Trick-and-treat over home,” Willie Bea’s mama said.

  Bay Sister looked about to argue. “Come on!” Willie Bea whispered to her. “Shut and let me take care of it!”

  “Huh?” said Bay Sister. Willie Bea’s mama was on her way out of the door. She turned back. “Leah? Stop that in front of the children!” Aunt Leah was being comforted tightly by Mr. Hollis. The next moment Mr. Hollis was threading his way around Willie Bea, Bay Sister and their papa, leading Aunt Leah out of the house. They were outside, and Willie Bea and Bay Sister were right behind them.

  Willie Bea’s papa was left. He might make his way over home. He could walk downtown. It would take him no more than fifteen minutes at the most. Time passed while Jason Mills decided what to do.

  He turned up the radio. Stations came in and out. There was static. He didn’t hear a thing that sounded like a news flash. And if there had been a catastrophe, wouldn’t the news have been on every station on the radio? Just the way the horrible destruction of the Hindenburg dirigible had been all over the radio last year?

  The Hindenburg had been an 800-foot, cigar-shaped super-balloon that was steered and fueled by hydrogen fuel. A radio newsman had been right there a year ago, routinely announcing the return of the Hindenburg. It had crossed the ocean from Germany many times before. It carried ninety-seven passengers. And, tragically, it had caught fire as it approached its Lakehurst, New Jersey, mooring.

  New Jersey again!

  Thirty-five passengers had been killed; and in half a minute the great dirigible was a twisted heap of steaming, molten metal.

  Heat. A heat ray, wasn’t it, Leah had said?

  The Germans, too! They had made the Hindenburg and other great dirigibles they called zeppelins. Ingenious Germans!

  Hindenburg! The man Von Hindenburg, President of the German Republic, had submitted to Nazi power. He had named Adolf Hitler Chancellor of Germany in 1933. The fascist Hitler!

  Jason checked his pocket watch. After nine. The night wore on.

  But Germany, the Hindenburg, an old catastrophe. New Jersey again and a new catastrophe.

  Could it be …? An invasion not from Mars. No indeed, not. But from Germany? Von Hindenburg. Nazis. The fascist power on the move!

  Jason Mills turned off the radio, turned out all but one light. He gathered money, keys, a warm sweater, which he put on under his overcoat, and left the house. He didn’t think to lock the door until he was down the front steps. He went back up, back into the house. He went into the dining room. No one had thought to blow out the candle in the sweet pumpkin on the dining-room table. He did so. He went into the kitchen and locked the back door. Then he came through the house again.

  He went to the closet in the dining room and got Marva’s winter coat for her. He remembered she had gone over home without even a sweater over her dress. Next he went to the sideboard and got the life-insurance policy out of his business drawer. No telling what might happen this night. He took his bankbook, too, although there was never much money in his account. Then he went out, locking the front door behind him. There had not been a reason to lock up the house for some time. The family had not been far from home in so long.

  He went quickly to the Dayton road and crossed it, going over home. They’d all be talking, over home. Someone—maybe him—would speak about organizing a patrol for this end of town. Or whether they should leave the area. There certainly were enough autos in the family to transport them all. But where would they go? He wouldn’t have a gun. Perhaps his axe would do.

  Jason Mills strode away in the Gobble-un dark. The huge field pumpkin was left glowing on the front porch. Its pyramid eyes gleamed wickedly. Its light was orange, flickering, gathering in the night.

  All over town, in other towns, in cities, the Martians landed. And everywhere, fearing for their lives, the people panicked.

  Across the country, jack-o’-lanterns guarded porches. Their gap-toothed grins were scornful. Somewhere, deep a-pumpkin, they laughed in silent, mocking shrieks.

  9

  Aunt Leah and Mr. Hollis got to over home first, before Willie Bea and her mama and Bay Brother and Bay Sister arrived. That was because Mr. Hollis had parked his automobile, a long Buick, right in front of Willie Bea’s house, pointing west toward over home and Dayton beyond. The automobile was halfway in Willie Bea’s yard and half on the roadway. If Mr. Hollis had parked all of it on the roadway, he would have blocked that Dayton road. That was how wide and grand was his automobile.

  Willie Bea hoped her papa wouldn’t come out and see those automobile tires bound to leave slide marks on the grass, and the auto parked there as if the gent owned the place. But Mr. Hollis quickly got Aunt Leah into the auto in the front seat next to the driver’s seat.

  Oh, I wish I could ride with them! Willie Bea thought.

  She stood right there in the grass, watching, along with her mama holding Bay, and Bay Sister
. Mr. Hollis’ automobile was so swell—the kind folks called a boat, it was that long and sleek. Shining there in the yellow-orange glow of the pumpkin. While the auto door was open as Mr. Hollis got in, Willie Bea could see the sleek inside. Wonderful seats of dark leather. The paneling in front of the wheel and to the right side was deep brown and probably leather, too. Oh, it was a fine Buick, fit for Aunt Leah in her fur and evening gown.

  The motor started up and the grand car lunged away, crossing the roadway and pulling up in front of Grand and Gramp Wing’s house in a blink of an eye, on the wrong side of the road. And tooling onto the front yard, just like the gent owned that place as well. Then Willie Bea heard the motor stop. She and her mama and the kids had moved out onto the Dayton road now. And they saw two figures fly out of the car and hurry up Grand Wing’s wide front steps. Willie Bea could hear Aunt Leah start in talking, explaining away in a fearful voice, before she reached the front door.

  Willie Bea and her mama and the kids had watched wonderful Aunt Leah and her gent leave and everything, and not one of them had thought to ask for a ride over home. Well, Willie Bea had thought to ask. And probably Bay Sister had thought to ask. Bay Brother, little ghost, was holding tight to his mama, up in her arms. But neither Willie Bea nor her sister would have dared ask something like that before their mama did. And their mama wouldn’t have mentioned a ride just across a roadway and a little-bitty few feet beyond to over home. No point in their even asking her to mention it. They had known she wouldn’t.

  It was a chill night, all right. An uncomfortably cool, beggars, trick-or-treat night.

  “It’s airish out,” Willie Bea’s mama said, starting across the road to over home. “Nobody goes out of Grand’s house tonight.”

  “Are we all gonna die?” asked Bay Sister ghost, all dressed up, skipping to keep up with Willie Bea and her mama.

  “No, nobody’s going to die!” Willie Bea’s mama said. Her voice didn’t sound the way it should. It sounded shaky, like it might jump up high any minute.

  Marva lifted her face to the sky. Willie Bea did the same. Up there was a wide, deep universe. It looked distant, up there. It looked dark, even though there were lots of stars. And smoky, way up there, too. Like something could be wrong with the black night of their world, Willie Bea thought. It was a cloudless, moonless night.

  Willie Bea realized she would have to find a way out of Grand Wing’s house this night.

  “We can go as far as Aunt Lu’s house,” she told her mama. She was testing to see if she could get away with pretending to go over to Aunt Lu’s. Of course, she wouldn’t go there, but she would say she was going, if she had to. “Aunt Lu’s going to have lots of treats for us. I reminded her about begging, earlier,” Willie Bea finished.

  Her mama was silent a moment before she said, “Grand will probably have all such for you all. Don’t fret, sister. There will be plenty.”

  Well, she didn’t say we couldn’t go over to Aunt Lu’s, Willie Bea thought, relieved.

  “But we’re all dressed up!” cried Bay Sister. “We have to go out begging tonight.”

  “You’ll show off for the folks over home!” their mama said impatiently. “We’ll have a costume show. Maybe a prize for who has the best costume.”

  Their mama was making up something for them to do over home as she went along, Willie Bea could tell.

  “Little will win it,” Bay Sister said about the costume show. “She has a store-bought Little Red Riding Hood outfit. I’m not gonna be in it.”

  “I’ll be the judge,” their mama said, calmly this time. “There will be more than one winner.”

  That was that. There wasn’t to be any outside trick-or-treating. And after all of the work Willie Bea had done, putting together their costumes. Well, she really didn’t care now. She had her way out of the house, to pretend she was going over to Aunt Lu’s. She was just sorry for the kids, was all. Well, Bay Brother was too young to know the difference between begging outside and being treated at home. But Bay Sister would hate to miss the out-of-doors, the scary nighttime without a mama or a papa to keep watch.

  Willie Bea had her mind on something else. The Kelly farm was the something else and the reason she had to get out of over home. What Uncle Jimmy had said about the Martians.

  Martians! Not them, but them, from the planet Venus. Tall as trees! V-shaped mouths! That V was the clue to knowing who was Venus them. If she could just see them, talk to them and explain about her own Star of Venus …

  From there, her thoughts were vague and unclear about what she could explain to them about her Star. But Willie Bea knew she must be gifted, fated. She knew they, the Venus them, wouldn’t mean her any harm.

  Perhaps they were frightened, she thought. That was why they had used the heat ray. More than likely, they were lost and had to land. Ran out of gasoline on their way back home to Venus. That could be it.

  Willie Bea knew where the Kelly farm was. Owned by Kellys. The very name filled her with the mystery of such people. Rich landholders. She reckoned she had seen the sons, older and farmers themselves. They brought their harvested grain through town in wagons pulled by tractors. She certainly had heard of them.

  She knew the general location of the Kelly farm, that is. She had never been in that direction away from home. It wasn’t that it was so far away. There were some big farms close in to the town. You could see the fields of them just by looking, practically surrounding the town. But the Kelly farm was supposed to be different. It didn’t have a farmhouse, it had a mansion. And white columns as high as a hayloft, some said. A place so huge a giant could live there.

  Willie Bea was twelve and knew her way downtown and her end of town well. But rarely did she venture to the far side of town, or beyond the town. Girls her age just didn’t wander over there. And it was hard getting around if you had no automobile in the family and no bicycle.

  Someday she would have a bicycle, her papa said so. If she had everything all at once now, what would there be left to have when she was older? her Grand had once said. Willie Bea had wondered what was the everything she was supposed to now have.

  But she didn’t miss not having a bicycle. She was used to trotting distances if she needed to go downtown. And stilting on her poles, traveling for fun. She had never before wanted or needed to go to the Kelly farm. Never even thought about going there. They said there was a pond there and rich folks ice-skated on the pond, below this great big Kelly place on the hill. Willie Bea didn’t own any ice-skates. She never mentioned to her father she might like to try ice-skating, for fear he would feel bad he couldn’t afford to buy her ice-skates. There wasn’t much her papa could afford to buy. And that made Willie Bea sad sometimes, when she had time to sit and think about it.

  Wouldn’t it be swell if times were suddenly to get better a lot faster—say that tomorrow they’d all be living swell?

  She wanted a beautiful girl’s bicycle someday. A beautiful red girl’s bicycle.

  Over home. They came up the same steps that Aunt Leah and Mr. Hollis had walked. But Willie Bea’s coming over home with her mama and brother and sister didn’t cause any kind of stir. They came in and the din in the front room was something awful. It spilled down the hallway and into the kitchen. Babies were squalling. Young’uns Bay Brother’s age were hollering and shrieking. Grown folks gave backhands whenever they had a mind or when wild ones needed quieting. And he that got the backhand wailed to beat the band, causing more noise.

  Over home, the world hadn’t yet thought about coming to an end. It hadn’t quite panicked. But over home was disorder and confusion. There was a disturbing air of dread on the one hand and a mood of serious doubt on the other.

  Once inside, it was as if Willie Bea forgot there was a mama or a papa. She was somehow all alone in the midst of everyone. She was there, but everything around her seemed distant. Noise, movement, as more and more folks gathered. They all came with something to add about the Martian invasion.

  She could fe
el fear. Some grown folks over home were afraid. It was in the way they looked around over their shoulders at the windows. They kept watching the front door like they expected it to fly open. To reveal a dreaded monster-thing from Mars framed there in the doorway.

  Willie Bea lost her mama at once. Then she found Aunt Leah in the midst of the disorder. Leah was posed in her lovely gown on Grand Wing’s couch. She must have fallen into a faint again as soon as she entered the front room. She would have had to, Willie Bea decided. A lot of men surrounded Aunt Leah, crowding Mr. Hollis, Willie Bea noted. And some wives kept shoving squalling babies onto their husbands’ knees. Some of the folks now over home were not even relatives, although Willie Bea recognized them all. Toughy Clay and his mama, Honey Clay, and her gent, Mr. North, were some of the unrelated folks. Honey Clay had never married, and bad boys teased Toughy Clay about that.

  Willie Bea felt in a daze. The folks around her were hazy, like in a dream. Individuals stood out and for the rest of her days she would remember what so-and-so said all of a sudden there in the front room. She would never forget how there was always a clump of men bent low over the radio console. Turning the dial back and forth, one of them would bob up and down, saying, “Shhh! Shhh! We can’t hear!” And it dawning on him that the little kid bawling on his shoulder was causing most of the racket. Another one of them would have his hand cupped around his ear, with the other hand kind of smacking that console, giving it a spanking, as though that would make it pay attention.

  There was still another man—oh, it was Uncle Donald! Willie Bea hadn’t noticed at first who he was; she didn’t see Uncle Donald so often. He was by the group of men at the radio. But he stood separate. He was watching them, chuckling to himself, shaking his head. “Tell you anything, tell you anything,” he was saying. Willie Bea forgot about him, too.

  Suddenly, somebody else bobbed up from the radio. “Shhh!” he said, as though Willie Bea had been talking, and crouched down again to listen hard.