S79 The Horror in the Swamp

by Brett Schumacher

  “How did your meeting go?” She yawned.

  “Oh, Louisiana was against that meeting. Maybe the universe, too. What should have been only a couple of hours driving turned into me apparently getting lost in the backwaters of the state where everybody can tell I’m from out of town.” He shook his head.

  They finished their conversation, exchanged goodnights, and he reluctantly hung up the phone. As he turned to go back to the car, the front door of the motel opened, and the coughing man stepped outside, bent double and had a very productive coughing fit.

  Holding back a gag, Robert rushed to his car and sped away. It would be better to spend a night sleeping in his car than sleeping in the ratty-looking motel that might only be a front for a kidney-harvesting organization. Then again, maybe he had watched one too many horror movies.

  Knowing that miles of deserted road lay behind him, he hypothesized that if he kept his course, he would surely arrive in a town soon. It was his faulty logic working again, but he couldn’t ignore it. Every road comes out somewhere, after all.

  Two hours and several instinct-driven turns later, he still had not come upon civilization to speak of. A few shanty houses that were little more than shacks spread out along the river’s banks. They had all been dark and there were no cars near them. They might have only been fisherman’s shacks.

  So tired that he couldn’t stop yawning, Robert pressed on. There really wasn’t anything else he could do. Checking the map didn’t help. He couldn’t make heads of tails out of the road he was on and, therefore, couldn’t find it on the map.

  When his car stuttered and shimmied the first time, a cold chill ran down his spine. He was truly in the middle of nowhere in the dead of the night. The second time it shuddered, the engine died. Shoving the shifter into park, he turned the key. The engine made a wah-wah-wah sound and nothing more happened. The gas gauge read a quarter-tank, so that wasn’t the problem.

  Looking about desperately, he cursed himself for never learning anything about cars. He could change a flat tire and put gas in one; that was the extent of his knowledge, though. He tried the ignition again. Nothing. Pulling the lever into neutral, he opened his door and strained to push the car off the edge of the road, wincing as the branches squealed along the passenger side.

  Walking to the center of the road, he looks one direction and then the other. There’s nothing behind him except the shanties on the riverbank that might or might not be occupied by people. The thought of rogue alligators that close to the river made him shake his head.

  “Not going that way.” He paced a ways in the other direction, feeling more exposed than he had ever felt in his life. Exposed and vulnerable, he thought. Walking back to the car, he snatched his pack of smokes from the dashboard and shook one out. He had been trying to quit, but under the circumstances, he was finding that very hard to accomplish.

  Inhaling the acrid smoke, he started to cough. “Number four for the day. That’s supposed to be good.” He coughed some more, and it reminded him of the man at the Dew Drop Inn Motel. Taking a short drag, he tossed the cigarette to the rough grave road and set his foot on it, grinding it out.

  He shoved the pack into his pants pocket with his Zippo lighter and groaned as he looked at the darkness ahead. “One foot in front of the other. I have to be close to something by now.”

  He walked a few yards ahead and looked back at his car longingly. Soon, the road veered slightly to the left and he could no longer see the outline of his car. The nocturnal insects made enough noise to drown out most other sounds, he suspected and he wondered what might be lurking just out of sight.

  Thinking about overgrown, pig-devouring alligators, he nearly jumped out of his skin when a shuffling, rustling sound came from his right. He wanted to run back toward the car and to hell with trying to find a store or house or anything in that god-forbidden place, but fear froze his muscles, locked him in place as the rustling came closer. Sure that an alligator the size of a school bus would come walking onto the road, his heart thundered and he pleaded with his legs to get moving.

  When a possum waddled out onto the road, it took him several seconds to realize he wasn’t going to be eaten alive by a giant reptilian monster. Not giving him even a sideways glance, the possum moved at a steady waddling pace until it was out of sight on the other side of the road.

  He laughed and the sound came out sounding wheezy and scared. He wiped sweat from his forehead and face before moving again. The road took a lazy right-hand turn ahead. There seemed to be a light source just around that bend. His steps became more confident as he saw light spilling onto the road in the steepest part of the curve. Things seemed to be looking up for him, he thought.

  In the dull glow of fluorescent lights, he could make out the awning over a set of gas pumps. The light beckoned him. It was a safe haven in the midst of the threatening darkness. He found the energy to jog toward it. Stopping at the edge of the hedges, he took a second to catch his breath and wipe away the sweat again. No one had warned him that Louisiana heat was full of humidity and that it didn’t cool off much after sunset. Some things he had to learn the hard way, and it seemed the day had already taught him many life lessons about living in the Deep South.

  Stepping into the outer edge of the glow thrown by the fluorescents, he caught sight of the mechanic coming out of the bay. The place looked much scarier than the motel had looked. The mechanic was a brawny man covered in grease and dirt, probably from his job, and looking as if he had never smiled. His hands were big as catcher’s mitts and his shoulders seemed impossibly wide. Gauging his size from a short distance, Robert was certain the man stood nearly seven feet tall. Nothing about him said he would be a good man to run into in the night.

  Robert stepped back slowly to the edge of the tall bushes and assessed the situation. He could walk back to his car and wait out the night, or he could ask the big man for help. Most people would help a person in need, especially someone with a broken-down car. But it was the middle of the night.

  The other man came out of the store. He wasn’t as big as the mechanic, but they obviously had a rapport. Robert couldn’t hear their conversation, but he could see that they were friendly with one another. There were no smiles, though. They seemed to be discussing the old pickup in the mechanic’s bay.

  Robert thought more about it. He could skirt the light and walk on. If the all-night gas station was there, other businesses had to be close by, too. Who would run a twenty-four-hour gas station if there was no one out and about during the nights?

  He skirted the light and walked just around the curve. The road straightened out but there were no other lights ahead. Who knew how long it would be before he found another open business? He walked back to the gas station and stood near the road. His gut instinct told him to stay away from the place. A tiny voice deep inside his head screamed that he should run from those men if he wanted to stay alive. Every fiber of his being prickled when he stepped fully into the light and headed for the station.

  Chapter 3

  The Gas Station

  The attendant had gone back into the store. The greasy mechanic was the first to notice Robert’s halting approach. Cleaning a large wrench with a filthy towel that looked as if it might have been white at one time far in the past, he took a few steps out of the bay. He leered at Robert for a moment, then broke out into an oily grin that made his stomach churn. A few of the mechanic’s teeth were missing; the rest were stained, probably from chronic tobacco use. He leaned forward and dropped the lit cigarette from his mouth and ground it out under his huge work boot.

  Robert’s heart hammered hard, sending sickening pulses of adrenaline into his system. The dry metallic taste in his mouth made it difficult to speak at first. Nodding a greeting, he edged closer to the store, letting his eyes roam over his surroundings. He spotted the attendant inside the store. The mechanic nodded in return, still grinning and walking
forward slowly, and incessantly twisting the wrench inside the towel as if determined to get every speck of grease.

  As Robert reached for the door, the mechanic stepped up behind him and followed him inside. Unnerving as it was, he figured the guy had a reason for following him inside. The attendant behind the pay counter was covered in tattoos and a long, ragged scar ran from just above his right eyebrow down to the corner of his mouth. His right eye was milky white, and the scar had twisted the edge of his eyelid, pulling it unnaturally downward. His wifebeater was stained with what Robert hoped was food, but it looked a lot like dried blood. He reassured himself that he was just overreacting because of the poor run of luck he’d had in finding Mr. Washington’s place.

  Rock music played through the little boombox behind him and Robert noticed it was probably the most up-to-date thing in the store.

  Trying not to seem like a tourist in a foreign country, he stammered and cleared his throat as he tried to smile nonchalantly at the attendant. “My car just stalled out up the road a ways and I wondered if either of you might give me a hand with it.” He took the opportunity to turn sideways so he could keep the lurking mechanic in his peripheral.

  The attendant grinned at the mechanic, and Robert was certain he saw the mechanic nod as he headed for a door behind the counter that opened to the garage. He was glad the man was out of the store, but he wondered what that nod had meant. It hadn’t been a good nod, a friendly nod, rather it had been one that carried a dangerous undertone.

  The attendant ran his thumb over his lips and looked out the window. “Say your car shit the bed, did it?”

  Chuckling nervously, Robert nodded. “I’m afraid it did. I don’t know much about cars—the working on them part, anyway.”

  Eyeing him up and down, the attendant didn’t smile, just brought that one good, piercing eye back to Robert’s gaze and nodded. “You ain’t from here, are you?”

  Do I have it tattooed on my damn forehead? He wondered in irritation. Biting back on a smart remark, he bit his lip and shook his head. “No. I am most certainly not. I just moved to Thibodaux, so I’m still learning the roads around here. I need to get to an appointment in Montegut.”

  Laughing snidely, the attendant walked from behind the counter, peering out the windows at the empty parking lot. “Little late for an appointment, ain’t it?” He centered himself between the door and Robert, crossed his arms and grinned as he openly sized him up.

  Slightly intimidated by the man’s actions, Robert glanced around. There was no other exit in sight except the one the mechanic had disappeared through moments earlier. His palms sweated and the sheen of oily sweat thickened along his hairline and on his upper lip. Unconsciously, he ran his hand over his face in agitation and huffed a long sigh.

  “I missed the appointment—obviously. But I still need to get there by morning.” Knowing he must smell like a farm animal; he couldn’t imagine how much worse it would be by morning in the humid heat. I’ll make one hell of a first impression on Mr. Oliver Washington, for sure, he thought wryly.

  The attendant sauntered toward him. “Well, Mister, I tell you what…we can help you out of your predicament, but it’ll cost you. You look like you can afford to pay; you ain’t poor folk like the people around here, are you?” He cast a downward look at Robert as he passed close by.

  To Robert, it felt like the man was rubbing it in his face that he was much bigger and brawnier than he was—an intimidation tactic. But there was also a feeling that the man might be lethal. Robert took a step back and nodded again.

  “Good. Let me just get my keys and we’ll go get that dead car together.” He turned his back as he went behind the counter again.

  For a split-second, Robert was sure the man would pull a gun and shoot him in the face. His breath stopped in his chest and time seemed to slow down as the man bent toward the shelf at his knees. He nearly bolted for the front door but forced himself to walk. He wouldn’t let the man get between him and the only exit again.

  The grin on the man’s face was by far the most unsettling and scary thing he had seen all day. He knew right then that he would never get in a vehicle with that man. He looked like a true psychopath as he tossed his keys into the air and caught them.

  “You…you know…on second thought, never mind. I can’t ask you to leave your store unattended in the middle of the night. I’ll walk back and wait until morning.” He pushed the door open and stepped out quickly.

  The attendant was on his heels. “Now, hold on a minute. Don’t be stupid.” He paused when Robert turned toward him.

  Robert held out his hand in a stop gesture. “No. It’s fine. Really.” Now that he was outside, he couldn’t get the urge to run away out of his mind. Something was wrong and he could feel it in every fiber of his being.

  “Only an idiot would turn down help out here in the middle of the night. Now, come on back here. I’m trying to be neighborly and thoughtful here, Mister.” He gained on Robert and took him by the arm to stop him halfway across the lot.

  The bug-riddled fluorescents under the gas pumps’ awning flickered and buzzed as moths and insects swarmed over their heads. The air became heavy and hotter, and Robert’s body was going into fight-or-flight mode.

  “I said I’ll be fine. Thanks.” Robert backed away as the attendant approached steadily.

  The man pointed in the direction of Robert’s car. “You said it was up that way, right?”

  Robert stepped out from under the awning. To keep the attendant in his sights, he turned his back to where the man pointed. “Yeah, that’s right. It’s a little ways up there. I pushed it off the side of the road.”

  The man nodded and scratched at his scruffy chin. “About how long did it take you to walk here from your car?” The man moved so that Robert had to turn his back to the store.

  Feeling like a wounded animal being circled by a predator, Robert shrugged. “I don’t know for sure. A few minutes. I wasn’t exactly watching the time.” His grin felt too tight and his eyes too wide.

  The man stopped, that milky eye pulling Robert’s attention as the eyebrow furrowed down over it. “Well, hell’s bells, Mister. Half an hour? More? Less? Any kid can guess at that.”

  Frustrated and wanting to get away from him, Robert huffed. “I don’t know…about twenty minutes, I guess.” It could have been as little as ten minutes, but it had felt like forever out there in the dark with noises all around and nothing to protect himself with.

  Looking in that direction, the man nodded. “You seem awful skittish, Mister. Like you’re out of your element pretty damn bad out here. Tell you what…” He turned back to Robert, “We’ll go pick up your car and I won’t even charge you the standard haul-bill. How’s that?” He grinned wide and nodded at someone behind Robert.

  He caught movement out of the corner of his eye and spun in that direction just in time to see the crooked grin on the mechanic’s face, and then the attendant punched him hard in the side of the head. The world spun and he lost his footing, going down hard. Landing on his elbow, he squawked as much from surprise as from pain.

  Struggling to gain his feet again, it took a moment for Robert’s shocked brain to figure out what had just happened. Exhausted, overheated, and instantly afraid, he got his feet under him and backed away from the grinning attendant and his shocking white eye, trying to get the world to stop tilting.

  As the man advanced, Robert tried to see where the mechanic had gone, but the other man was swinging at him again. Robert ducked. As he rebounded, he swung wildly at the man’s face and missed. Both men laughed aloud. Robert spun toward the mechanic, whose huge fist plowed into his cheek.

  He went down. The sensation wasn’t unpleasant; it was as if he were sort of floating off to sleep, gently and slowly falling through darkness. Then he collided with the broken pavement. The jolt knocked some sense back into him and he started to scramble
away from the two men. A foot caught him in the ribs and rolled him several feet away. The men were on him again before he could catch his breath.

  Their boot soles ripped through his shirt and gouged into his flesh. Finally, he struggled to his feet, but only because the men backed up to have a laugh at him. Yeah, real fucking funny, he thought, infuriated at their cruelty and his own ineptness. Spinning away from them, he staggered past the pumps and toward the road again. His brain told his legs to run but his legs had different plans. Just keeping them under him was a job he could barely manage.

  So, this is how I go out, huh? He wondered. Beaten to death by a couple of thugs out back of the beyond in Louisiana. He moved toward the road, but it seemed to keep moving. The last coherent thought he had was hoping the two men wouldn’t find his address after they killed him—Julie and Lilli were all alone at home.

  Something made contact with the side of his skull. Somewhere in the deep recesses of his mind, in the part that was still fully conscious, he knew the mechanic had whacked him with that giant wrench he had been cleaning earlier.

  Robert had the sensation of floating in a soft, warm darkness. There was no pain, no tension, nothing; just a peaceful blackness carrying him away. Voices in that darkness spoke incoherently, and he ignored them, preferring to float away into the void.

  When jerky movement roused him, he felt as if he were in a boat being thrashed about by violent waters. The voices came back, and he recognized the slow, drawling speech as that of the men at the gas station. He knew it was important that he open his eyes and fight the muddled feeling in his brain, but he couldn’t do it. Focusing all his energy on opening his eyes, Robert woke enough to realize he was being carried. One man had his feet and the other had his arms. Every few steps, his hip bumped the ground.

  His eyes closed again. They dropped him on the ground and gravels poked painfully into his back and shoulders; his head throbbed. Something warm and wet trickled slowly from his forehead to his ear.