We stopped at a Piggly Wiggly in Corinth. Milo did not explain what we were doing. We three Newbies bought sodas and tried to stay in the air conditioning as long as possible. Milo purchased a shopping cart full of supplies and loaded them in the back of the station wagon while a large fan distracted the rest of us. He had to honk the horn to get our attention.
Milo drank a Sprite while we headed out of Corinth. He pointed out a spot on the map. "Here is the Enchanted Forest. The locals pretty much know to leave it alone. Now for future reference, this area over here is known as Natchy Bottom. Do not ever go there. MHI has had a few cases in the Bottoms over the last hundred years. There are some places on Earth that you just shouldn't mess with, some out west, a couple in Maine, one in the New Jersey pine barrens, places that are just pure evil. That is one of them. That place is just plain bad. The people that live out there are pretty strange and keep to themselves. Heck, they didn't get electricity until the late '90s. There is some crazy stuff back in those woods that you just don't want to mess with." He did not elaborate further.
We took a series of turns, heading deeper and deeper in the hills. The few scattered houses we passed became shoddier and older as we went. The last few houses we saw were so dilapidated that it was surprising that anyone was able to live in them, but lights were on, and dogs roamed the trash-filled yards. The woods grew thicker, older and darker. It rained briefly out of the clear hot sky. The rain was warm, and quickly passed, serving only to increase the already brutal humidity.
Finally we stopped in front of a small sign. It read enchanted forest in big letters, and trailer park in smaller letters underneath.
"Probably a trick to keep outsiders away," Trip told us. Milo sneezed loudly as he had an allergy attack. The Escort's tires crunched over pea gravel as we entered the Enchanted Forest.
It looked like a trailer park to me, and a rundown one at that. The trailers were rusty and old. Cardboard served as windows in places. Garbage and beer cans were strewn everywhere. Milo swerved around what appeared to be a pile of used disposable diapers. There were a few old cars, but it had been a long time since they had been mobile. Most of them were up on jacks or cinder blocks, tires long since rotted away. There was no life to be seen other than a couple of mangy dogs trying to stay in the shade. I could hear the sound of televisions through some of the open doors. Somewhere a baby cried.
Milo stopped the car in front of a double-wide trailer with a no-longer-used giant satellite dish rusting in front. A rudimentary porch had been built out of scrap lumber. A recliner and a big faded couch were on the porch, and a fat, greasy dog was sleeping on the cushions. We exited our little vehicle. Heavy black flies landed on us to check if we were edible.
"Wha chu want?" a voice shouted from inside.
"We bring gifts," Milo replied.
"I didn't order no free Bible off o' the TV, so git," the voice replied.
"We are here to speak with the Elf Queen."
It was quiet except for the sound of a professional wrestling match blaring on the TV. Trip looked hopeful. Holly adjusted her pistol under her shirt. She still wasn't used to packing heat, and she kept touching it nervously. Finally the owner of the voice appeared in the doorway.
He was tall and very skinny, wearing a stained wife-beater tank top and a puffy trucker hat. His blond hair was long and stringy. His fingertips were stained yellow from nicotine, and his teeth were crooked when he smiled. His features were fine, and sharply pointed ears stuck out from under his mullet. "Well, if it ain't some Hunters. Come to see the Queen. Well, she be busy, so git, 'fore I sic the dogs on ya." He pointed at the fat dog on the couch. It regarded us sullenly, but it must have decided that it was too hot to growl.
"We have brought gifts," Milo said casually. He opened the back of the little station wagon. The trailer park elf regarded us with suspicion in his beady blue eyes before he stepped off the porch and looked at our purchases from the Piggly Wiggly. He whistled when he saw the contents. Milo had bought several cases of Budweiser and ten cartons of Marlboro lights.
"I'se go get her. See if she wants to speak at chu." He grabbed a carton of cigarettes, stuffed it under his tank top, and headed for the trailer. We could hear him yelling from the yard. "Rondel! You'se got company."
Trip's face had fallen a bit, but he still looked hopeful. "It's all just a trick to keep away outsiders," he assured himself.
"Dude, he looks like Kid Rock with Mr. Spock ears," Holly whispered. "He sure ain't no Orlando Bloom."
The elf returned. He was unnaturally graceful and long limbed, but other than that and the ears, he made a convincing redneck. "The Queen will be out in a sec. Y'all have a seat," he said, pointing at the couch. The dog didn't move. It had gone back to sleep.
"Git offa there. We's got guests." He kicked the dog with his bare foot. It woke up, stood, and urinated all over the cushion. He kicked it again and it scurried off of the porch, tail between its legs. "Sorrys 'bout that," he said as he flipped the couch cushion over so we could sit on the dry side.
Milo gestured for us to sit. I reluctantly sat on the old couch, so as not to offend the elves, but leaned forward as much as possible to keep a minimal amount of contact between my pants and who knows what. Trip, who was a mild germaphobe, did not look so good.
"I think I'll guard the car," Holly stated. Milo shook his head sternly, and after a moments hesitation she sat next to me. Our elf host excused himself and went back into the doublewide. Milo, being the experienced and wise Hunter that he was, sat on the steps. He sneezed violently.
"Well, this is a little different than what I expected," I said cheerfully.
"It's got to be a diversion," Trip whispered.
"The elf keeps staring at my chest," Holly said coldly.
A few humid minutes passed. A bright blue electric bug zapper noisily executed some mystery critters. I noticed a few sets of eyes checking us out through cracks in various trailers' mini blinds. Our host returned. He passed by us, crunched across the gravel in his dirty bare feet, opened the back of the Escort and started unloading beer and cigarettes. He grabbed a few cases and took them into the house.
"Queen Ilrondelia will be out in a sec. Y'all want a beer?" That was a mighty generous offer considering that we had just paid for it.
"No thanks," said Milo. The rest of us followed the experienced Hunter's lead and turned him down as well. Trip really looked like he could use one though. I think the ugly truth was just sinking in. Kind of like when you are young and you eventually learn that your heroes are only human, only I imagined that this was probably a whole lot worse.
The Elf Queen appeared in the doorway. Perhaps filled the doorway would be a better description. She was probably pretty close to me in weight, but about two feet shorter. She was wearing a flaming red muumuu and white bunny slippers. Her arms dangled fat rolls, and I stopped counting chins at number five. Her blond hair was up in curlers, and her blue eyes were beady between layers of lard. Other than the pointy ears, there was not much magical here. She was a definite candidate for gastric bypass surgery.
"Presenting Queen Ilrondelia. Ruler of the Elves of the Enchanted Forest. Mistress of all she sur-vaaays. Y'all have a good un." He popped a Budweiser and went back into the trailer to watch wrestling. The Queen waddled over to her Lazy Boy recliner/throne and flopped into it with a satisfied grunt.