“I heard he was a mute, and the clapping is how he communicates.”
“I heard he’s a ghost, and the clapping is how he gets your attention.”
“I heard you were both big ole babies who will believe in anything.”
Darrel and Gary looked up incredulously at me as I grinned back at them from across the lunch table.
“Oh yeah? Well, he’s been linked to the disappearance of like four kids now so it sounds like a pretty good reason to be afraid of him.” Darrel said, sounding mad.
I just shrugged at him, popping a french fry into my mouth and savoring the salt, “There’s no proof that this “clapping man” is responsible for a candy bar going missing at Dell’s, let alone Mickey Frazier getting snatched.”
The Clapping Man story was something that had been circulating for a while. Three young kids had gone missing first, all of them heading home from somewhere or another, and some of the witnesses had reported hearing a clapping sound before they had gone missing. One of them had even reported seeing a man-sized shape in the woods before hearing the clap. They didn’t have any details about the guy, but they said it looked like a person’s shadow with long arms.
Mickey had been the most recent disappearance and the one that made the cops around Tiger the most nervous. The first three had been younger kids, elementary school kids who hadn’t looked like much, but Mickey had been a seventeen-year-old farm kid who was built like a linebacker. The story was that he was trying to find one of his dad’s missing sheep around dusk and had just never come back. The stories were that he was near Kindle Covered Bridge and that the sheep had been found dead underneath it the next day. There were the usual rumors that Mickey had run off or left to be with a girl, left to be with a boy for all they knew, but those of us who had known Mickey kind of doubted it.
Mickey was slow. Not like special ed slow, but he was slower than average. He loved his family, he loved working on his parent’s farm, and the thought that he would just run off when he couldn’t come back with a sheep was laughable. Mickey liked football too, but if his dad had asked, he’d have given it up in a heartbeat.
The cops knew this too and that’s why they were so sure that Mickey had been taken by someone, and that the someone had to be big.
The bell rang then but we kept our seats as the good little sheep dispersed around us. We’d leave when the monitor finally told us we had to and not a minute before. Gary still looked a little nervous as the cafeteria cleared out, but Darrell was pretty used to this. Darrell and me had been helions since we were young, but it was a life that Gary was slowly getting used to.
I’m not a bad kid, not really. I love my Momma, I respect my Daddy, I keep my truck well-maintained, and I’m good to my girl when I have one. That being said, I have no time for weakness or rules. The only rule I know is that the strong rule, and it’s a rule I learned from my Daddy. If I’m strong, and I am, I should be able to do what I want. If other kids don’t understand that, well that’s their problem, just like when I push them down and show them who’s boss.
Darrel, Gary, and me never really considered ourselves a Gang or anything, but we pal around because we all believe that when you’re strong you’re right.
Mrs. Gladys looked our way, and I grinned at her as I waved. Mrs. Gladys is cute, but she ain’t strong. She teaches Homeck and she drives a Spark, nothing about that says Strong. She’s come over before and tried to talk nice to us and get us back on the “straight and narrow” but it never does any good. Eventually, she stopped trying and when she turned and called for Mr. Gursch, the shop teacher, we took our feet off the table and started heading to class. Gursch was Strong, an eight-year combat vet with the scars to prove it, and he was not to be messed with.
We were halfway to class when the bell rang for the start of fifth period and I looked at the boys and told them I thought we should maybe take the rest of the day off.
“I gotta get to math,” Gary said, “If I don’t keep at least a C, they’ll kick me off the football team.”
“Same,” Darrell said with a sigh, “If I don’t pass that history test today, my mom says I can’t run the roads this weekend. Come on, man, just come to class with us. The beers will still be there after school.”
I blew a big ole raspberry at them and told them that if they wanted to be pansies then I’d go drink it all up before they got there. They begged me not to go, but I was done for the day. School had never really held any appeal for me, and I had already figured I’d drop out at the end of the year and go into haulin’ lumber like my Uncle or into farmin’ like my Dad. I was too dumb for the Army and too lazy for college, but at least I had figured it out a year before everyone else.
“Have fun in math class then,” I said, waving as I walked to the parking lot to get my truck.
The little Ford Ranger Daddy had given me wasn’t much, but it was fine for now. I really wanted one of those big F350s like my Uncle had, but I’d either have to save up a bunch of money or steal one to have something that nice. The Ranger was fine, and I slunk out of the lot in low gear before turning and flying up the road for home.
The dirt roads of Tiger were like a second home to me, and as I put the schoolhouse behind me, I thought again about just leaving on one of them for parts unknown. What was there really here for me? A dead-end job and a naggy wife, squalling kids and a mortgage I couldn’t pay, a bottle of beer after work with the boys, and a loveless marriage that would hang like a shackle around my neck? Maybe a trip to Stragview if I wasn’t careful, or a telephone pole in the night if I’d had one too many beers?
I didn’t like to think too much about the future then, preferring to live in the moment, and this particular moment was about to contain a twelve-pack of beer.
I pulled in behind the barn so Daddy wouldn’t see me if he came home early. Daddy was at the farmers market till around four selling his wares, and I figured he wouldn’t be the wiser of me cutting school. I walked off into the field of peanuts, this year’s crop, and on into the woods beyond. I had been exploring the woods since before I was potty trained and the spot I knew of was about a mile back in an old tangle of trees. Darrel and me had found it when we were still small enough to squeeze between the roots of the Snacky Trees and make a clubhouse down there, and it now served as a spot for us to drink and smoke and bring girls to for some privacy. The forest was familiar, an old friend that had protected me sometimes when Daddy had a little too much to drink, and before I knew it, I could see the old grove of trees in the distance. Most of the forest was thick old oaks and some scraggy little pulp trees, but the grove was different. It was old, felt ancient somehow, and being there made me feel peaceful like nothing could hurt me while I was there.
I got to the Snaky Trees and took a seat on the comfy old roots that stuck above ground, reaching into the gnarled old root system and pulling out the twelve-pack of Budweiser.
I cracked the first can and drank it quickly, smacking my lips as the crisp taste filled my stomach. This was the good life right here, but I knew it wouldn’t last forever. I’d have to trade this kind of carefree time for adulthood soon enough, and the thought of saying goodbye to the Snaky Tree Grove was a little sad. I opened a second one, drinking it slower this time, and as the wind rustled the leaves around me, I felt a yawn creeping up my throat. Daddy and me had been splitting wood before school today and the early morning and the lukewarm beer was starting to make me groggy. As the second one disappeared and the third one popped open, I got comfy and watched the dragonflies and little forest animals frolic in the bows of the tree. I felt at ease like I was floating, and when the beer can slipped out of my hand and fell into the nest of roots, I was snoring before it dumped its delicious contents on the ground.
When I woke up it was dark and the sounds of birds and squirrels had been replaced with insects and the scamper of bats.
This didn’t immediately put me off. I had been in the woods at night before. Darrel and me had camped out tons of times and I had even slept rough a time or two if Momma and Daddy were fighting. I pulled myself out of the tangle of roots and wobbled a little before getting my bearings. I wasn’t drunk, not by a long shot, or hung over. I had taken a long nap in the woods and now it was time to go home and face the music. The school would have called by now and told them I had left early, Daddy would have looked for me during evening chores and not found me, and these things would have culminated in him having a drink as he waited for me so I was likely in for a bad time.
I walked out of the grove, watching my step as I went, and that was when I first heard it.
A loud pop sound that made me freeze in place and listen like a spooked deer.
I stopped for a count of five, waiting for it to come again so I could identify it, but all I heard was the quiet sounds of the evening woods.
I started walking again, but after five more steps, I heard the loud pop again. I had thought it might be a tree branch cracking at first, but now it sounded more like something familiar. It wasn’t a natural sound, not like a branch breaking or rocks bumping as they fell. This was a sound I hadn’t really heard out here before, a sound I was familiar with but seemed alien out here.
It sounded like someone bringing their hands together for a single hard clap.
I kept walking towards the house, thinking I was hearing things, but the longer I went, the more I heard the clapping sound. It was infrequent, always that one loud pop, and when I looked there was nothing I could find that would have made it. The longer I walked, the more freaked out I got at the popping. I found myself looking for man shapes in the woods, thinking about what the kids had told the cops. It was big like someone’s shadow standing in the woods, its arms were longer than usual, and they had heard a loud clapping sound before their friends had disappeared.
Pop
I stopped again. It had been closer this time. It sounded like it was about twenty feet away and the clap had silenced many of the forest creatures that had been buzzing placidly. I wanted to run but I made myself walk so I didn’t trip in a hole or knock myself unconscious with a low-hanging branch. There was also the fact that these were MY woods! Nothing bad could happen to me in MY woods. No one could hurt me here, no one would dare to…
Pop
Now it was closer, ten feet or better. It was following me and I was still a half a mile from home. I wondered how far it would let me get before it snatched me. Would they find any evidence that I had been alive? Would they ever find anything?
Pop
I quickened my pace, holes be damned. I needed to go, I needed to get out of here. I needed to be behind my door with the lock thrown and the bolt pushed in. I’d hug my Daddy and tell him I was sorry and take whatever punishment came, but I needed to know that the monster or freak or whatever was outside and couldn’t get me. I ducked a branch that I saw as a vague outline and kept moving. The popping had stopped for now, but I knew I wasn’t safe. I had to get home. I had to get home. I had to get…
POP
I turned my head in the direction of the sound and there he was. He was man-shaped, that was for sure. He looked like a bulky man, his arms and legs just thick outlines in the murk. I couldn’t see his eyes, but I could feel them on me. He didn’t make a sound, but the longer I stayed still, the more I began to hear a low murmur like a tv show trying to break through the static. I thought he might be frozen by my stare, but as I watched, he raised his hands slowly and brought them together with a single hard clap.
POP
I took off like a shot. I ran and ran and ran as the popping followed me. I expected that every step would be my last. A claw would come out or a set of teeth would clamp down on me and I would be dragged away to whatever served it as a den for digestion or God knew what else. The popping started coming from directly behind me, and I could almost feel the air off those massive hands. I could see lights coming into view up ahead and thought I might have gotten turned around and found the highway. I didn’t care, I just wanted someone to help me escape this creature and I wasn’t choosy about who.
I broke through the tree line to discover that I had come out on the edge of my parent’s farm and the lights were flashlights as people looked for me. They were calling my name as they got closer to the woods and I tore off towards the fields in an attempt to stop them from entering. One of them could have just as easily been this thing’s next meal, and I wasn’t about to draw them to it.
I found Daddy first, his beam turning to fix me, and he wrapped me in a hug as he recognized me.
“God damn boy! I was so scared you’d been took.” he hugged me close, the first time I’d ever seen my Daddy show that kind of emotion, and when he called out to them that he had found me, I saw them all start heading to his location.
The police came and talked to me, and I don’t know if they took me seriously or not. They did tell people to stay out of the woods for a while and to listen for clapping if they were alone. Mickey was the last kid to go missing in Tiger that year, and when the clapping has come back after that, they seem better prepared for it.
That experience changed me, and I’m glad to say it was for the better. I started taking my schooling a little more seriously, stopped being so impetuous, started helping people instead of taking, and change my way of thinking a lot. I still believe that strong people are important, but now I also believe that they have a responsibility to help those who aren’t strong. I started volunteering to go out on woodland rescues, searching for people who’d gotten lost or looking for remains, and I got approached by the Park Service to see if I wanted to work with them. Now I help educate people so they don’t get lost and I help find those who go missing.
In a way, I guess I owe The Clapping Man a debt.
He saved me that night from becoming a monster too, though I doubt it was his intention.