Bridgette screamed at him, but her words were unintelligible behind her breather.
Trevor closed the chest filled with gold and unhooked the basket from the line, knowing he would only be able to take one or the other. He fastened the hook to a handle on the side of the chest and made sure the latch on the front was fully secured.
The ghostly pirate was only a few yards from him now. He could already taste his blood.
With the chest secured to the boat's line, Trevor frantically scraped at the loose treasure pile, prying up anything he could carry. He managed to cradle a small pile of jewels, coins and trinkets in his arms, then he kicked off the floor and began his escape.
But the gold was very heavy, and it was immensely difficult for him to swim. He glanced over his shoulder and spotted the twisted face of the pirate behind him. It was long and horrifying, like the face of a Hollywood monster. He kicked his legs madly, but his ascent was slow.
The pirate glided through the water much easier than Trevor, almost like he was floating through it. He held out the tip of the cutlass, pointing it at his prey's soft and sunderable body.
Trevor stared up at the others with panic in his eyes.
"Drop it!" Bridgette tried to say. Dawson tried pulling her away again as dozens of ghosts glided through the water for them, but she threw his hand off.
Trevor looked down at the treasure he cradled. He already had a chest full of bounty hooked to the boat; he knew that. But the avarice swam in his eyes and he couldn't let go of what he carried. He just couldn't.
The pirate behind him reached out for his shoulder.
"Drop it! Please!"
But Trevor clung onto it for dear life. And that's exactly what was taken as the blade ran through his back and came out his stomach.
Bridgette screamed. Dawson and Billy looked on in horror.
Blood ran out of the wound and filled the water around it in a cloud of murky red. The gold fell from his grasp and sank as his arms limply floated above his head. Trevor's eyes rolled up in his head as his life drained away. The pirate withdrew the blade and Trevor's body sank into the chasm. Then he turned his murderous gaze up to the three of them as the crew of ghosts closed in.
Taken
Dozens of sets of pale yellow eyes set on them as the grubby dead came through the dark, green-tinged waters.
The three of them fled for their lives, swimming back for the boat. Not one of them dared to look behind, but each couldn't help but imagine bony fingers wrapping around their ankles.
Billy broke the surface of the water next to the boat first. Bridgette came up next, followed by Dawson just behind. Dawson stayed in the water and helped the two of them up, then climbed into the boat himself. Their wet bodies flopped onto the deck like limp sardines.
Karen and Janet had looks of horror on their faces. "What's going on?" Karen asked.
"Trevor's dead!" Billy cried after plucking the breather out of his mouth. They each peeled the diving gear off their heads and glanced at the water. The pale green light that had shined in the water was almost completely faded now, but it was enough to highlight the dark forms cutting through the water toward the boat.
"We have to get out of here," Dawson said, heading into the cabin.
"What are those things?" Janet asked, seeing movement in the water. "Sharks?"
"Worse," Billy said.
"The pirates," Bridgette said. "They're back."
"Pirates!" Karen cried. Her eyes went so wide they almost rolled out of her skull.
Dawson twisted the keys that were left sitting in the ignition and the boat came to life. The headlights shone across the waters. He glanced around the bay, wondering which direction to go in.
"We're not going back to the mansion," he told the others. "We gotta get as far away from here as possible."
He gave the throttle a rough shove forward and the boat jumped into life, making the others hovering around the entrance to the cabin stumble. The boat zoomed across the water, heading almost in the opposite direction of the mansion. At first they all immediately felt a sense of ease as the site of the ghosts' awakening and Trevor's death quickly faded.
The boat lurched forward violently and then stopped dead in the water. Everyone was thrown to the ground, Dawson hitting the dash in front of him and banging his head on the way. The boat's engine screamed, but they weren't going anywhere; they were sitting ducks.
"What happened?!" Bridgette asked.
Confusion racked all of them at first, but then realization set in Dawson's eyes. "The chest that Trevor hooked onto..." he muttered. "It must've caught on something down there!"
Thinking quickly, Dawson pulled the throttle back then turned the wheel, trying to head in a different direction and free the chest. The line coming from the winch was steel, so they wouldn't be able to cut it.
He thought he had gotten it free at first when he eased the throttle forward a bit and the boat began to crawl, but then they were all taken by another, less violent, lurch as the chest snagged again.
"They're coming!" Karen screamed, pointing at the water from the deck.
In the fringes of the boat's headlights, they could all see movement swimming steadily under the surface. And then their vision of the dead disappeared as a mysterious fog came out from the location of the wreck and slowly rolled over the water. Before long, it was around the boat and they were blind. The headlights reflected off the mist, making it impossible to see around them.
"Get us out of here!" Billy cried.
"I'm trying!" Dawson said. He spun the wheel in any manner of ways and eased on and off the throttle, but nothing worked.
"Bridgette..." Janet said.
"What?" Bridgette answered, distracted as she frantically searched the water.
"Bridgette!" Janet said more frantically.
She turned and saw that Janet was leaning over the rail on the other side of the boat. She ran next to her and gasped as she saw the dead coming up to the surface. A hand shot out of the water and its pale fingers reached for the boat. The rest of the pirate surfaced, and his face was as murky and sea-encrusted as the lost treasure. He stared crazily at the two of them as his hands clawed at the boat.
"They're over here, too!" Billy said near the back.
"Shoo! Shoo!" Karen cried next to him, flapping her hand at them.
"Dawson!" Bridgette cried.
He glanced nervously behind him from the captain's chair, then he gripped the wheel tightly and shoved the throttle forward as hard as he could. The boat lurched forward again and the engine screamed, but they were still stuck.
More pirates broke out from under the surface and swam up to the boat. Dozens of hands slapped at the sides, trying to get a hold. Wretched, ghastly moans filled the night as if the frightening souls were gasping for air their lungs could never hold.
"Dawson, come on man!" Billy pleaded.
"I'm trying!"
"Oh my God!" Karen cried, pointing to the back of the boat where one pirate had started to pull himself up the motor. The pirates were clumsy, as if they had to regain their motor skills after having been locked away for so long. But they didn't stop.
As the pirate put one foot on the deck, the boat broke free and zoomed forward, rocking violently before settling into a steady headlong speed. Some part of the chest or rock that it was caught on must have broken off, freeing them, and the pirate slipped off the back of the boat. He didn't splash into the water like they would expect, but instead slowly floated down into the mist as if reorienting himself to a different plane of material. His crazed yellow eyes sank out of view like sickly moons.
The five of them yelped in delight as the boat sped away to freedom and they saw that there were no other passengers. But their excitement soon ended when Dawson was forced to pull the throttle back, bringing the boat almost to a crawl; in the thick fog surrounding them, they still couldn't see. Dawson didn't even know which direction they were going in, and if they set forward at any speed at
all, they might crash into a rock. And then, after Dawson slowly turned the wheel and trawled the boat through the water, they realized that they were lost.
The air seemed colder than it did before and Bridgette's teeth chattered. The rain soaked her hair and skin and chilled her to the bone. She walked into the cabin and leaned next to Dawson, staring out the windshield with him. "Where are we?"
"I don't know," he said.
Out on the deck, the air of franticness had faded. They were still on guard, but the waters around them seemed gentle and still. Aside from the unnatural fog, it might have even been a normal, rainy night.
Then in the distance there was a gentle light through the fog. Karen was the first to see it and pointed it out to the others. The orange light grew brighter, and they all watched, mesmerized.
Bridgette and Dawson had the exact same thought: a police boat, just like the one that had chased them off the bay the other night.
Without a word, Dawson pointed the boat in that direction and eased the throttle forward a little more. The light grew larger and Dawson slowed the boat when he knew they were close.
Bridgette stepped onto the deck and began waving her arms. The others joined in. "Hey!" she called. "Help! We need help!"
The light grew larger and they waited patiently for the police to arrive and see what the problem was. But an odd feeling caught Bridgette as the light grew intense, very close to them now: she remembered the floodlight mounted to the front of the police boat from before being white rather than orange. This orange light was also a little too weak.
The front of the approaching vessel cut through the fog. It was a little wooden lifeboat. But the wood it was constructed from looked waterlogged and slimy, covered in barnacles. A long arm draped in peculiar clothing perched an old lantern in the air. When the boat got close enough to touch theirs, they saw four figures standing and sitting in the old vessel. Their streaked faces and sun-parched lips twisted into a portrait of delight and malice as the pirates bared their teeth at them.
Bridgette's breath caught in her throat, but Billy managed to speak. "Get us out of here!" he yelled to Dawson.
Dawson peeled the wheel away from them and thrust the throttle forward. The fishing boat sped away, but not before all of them heard a scream at the back of the deck.
One of the pirates had stepped aboard and seized Janet, pulling her into their custody. The pirate sitting and operating the oars smiled as he turned the boat and they disappeared into the fog.
Reunion
"No! Stop!" Bridgette yelled. "We have to go back for her!"
"I don't even know where we are, Bridgette!" Dawson said.
She stared at the fog where the rowboat had disappeared, but even she wasn't sure where that was anymore.
He spun the wheel of the fishing boat and pushed it along through the fog, but there was no sign of the pirates or Janet.
"She's gone," he said. "We have to leave."
Bridgette sank to her knees and cried. "No..." she muttered.
He reached down and squeezed her hand.
"Uh, guys?" Billy said from out on the deck.
Behind the boat in the distant fog were a handful of orange lights, growing in size.
When Dawson saw them, he sped the boat up and got them out of there. Bridgette sat in the cabin on her knees, quietly sobbing. But she knew he was right; there was no going back for Janet, otherwise all of them would be dead. Just like Trevor.
Though the boat skipped quickly along the water and they were safe for the moment, none of them could help shaking a little, caught up by all the shocking events recently. Bridgette's head pounded and she felt like she was going to throw up.
Karen pulled out her cell phone and dialed 911. She held the phone up to her ear, then she pulled it away a few seconds later with a sour look on her face. "I've got no signal!" she said. She whacked her brother in the arm. "Give me your phone!"
He peeled off his wet suit and pulled it out of his pocket, giving it a try. "I've got no signal either!" he said. "It must be this fog, or something."
Dawson kept a careful eye on the fog in front of him, his whole body tensing up as he expected a giant rock to appear out of nowhere. But he kept a steady grip on the wheel and made sure they stayed well clear of their pursuers.
A tall cliff climbed out of the fog in front of them. Dawson adjusted the wheel to an open channel of water next to it, and when he looked up at the top of the cliff, he gasped. The dark silhouette of the museum sat atop, painted against the stormy clouds in the sky.
"How did we get back here?" Karen demanded. "I thought you were taking us the other way!"
Dawson was at a loss for words. "I thought I was, too..."
"That's okay," Billy said. "The van's still in the parking lot. I've got the keys in my pocket!"
Dawson sped the boat through the channel, coming out of the fog that had rolled over the bay. He wound it carefully through some of the smaller pathways he could remember and shored it up to the land where it got short enough to disembark.
They clambered out of the boat, and Dawson helped Bridgette, having to hoist her from underneath her arms. Hurry!" he said as he spotted an orange glow coming from somewhere behind them.
They found the steep path heading up to the mansion and followed it until the ground broke even and they could see the parking lot.
Billy's old Aerostar was in flames. The tires were slashed, the windows were broken, and it looked like the gas tank had burst.
"What the hell?" Billy cried. "What happened?!"
Dawson muttered something under his breath, and his eyes darted around.
"What do we do?" Karen asked.
Dawson took one look at the mansion, and it was enough to turn his stomach. "We go back to the boat."
The four of them turned around and started to head down the hill, but then they saw a fleet of rowboats pulling up to shore next to the fishing boat, and the pirates beginning to scurry up the hill.
"Damn!" Dawson said, and the four of them instead headed for the narrow road leading away from the estate. But as they neared the low-hanging tree canopy, the faces of the dead appeared in the darkness, scowling at them. They walked up the road, their cutlasses shining and dancing in the rain.
As the four of them turned in the only direction they had left, the mansion stood tall in front of them, ominously welcoming them as old and cherished friends. With no choice, they fled inside and closed and locked the heavy doors behind them. They had hardly any time at all to flee into the interior before the ghosts came up to the doors.
The ghosts waited, the rain falling through their mangy bodies. One pirate came up from behind the crowd, and the others faced him, their gazes immediately turning down in respect. He stood tall in the middle of his crew, his fiery eyes turning up at the monstrous building before them. His jaw fell open and his arms stretched out to his sides, reveling in the moment. After another hundred long years, he had finally returned to have another chance at his vengeance. Distant memories flooded his mind of when he first stood in this spot on that fateful night and threw open the doors, commencing his merciless slaughter. His beard was paler now; his bones colder with no hope of warmth. His wide chest heaved, drawing in breath out of instinct rather than necessity.
But instead of breaking down the doors, he placed his hand against one of them and pushed it a little more. It sank through and his arm came out the other side. He grunted and stepped through the door into the entrance hall. His crew followed behind him, each of them taking out their swords.
Gaspar stood on the spot, soaking in everything around him that was rightfully his but had been so cruelly taken away from him. Rage grew inside of him until it boiled over the surface, until all he saw was red and his hand trembled for the blade by his side. He tilted his head back and howled, his frightening and powerful cry filling the mansion, dripping with every ounce of his murderous intent.
Separate Ways
"What happened back ther
e?" Dawson asked as they hurried down the hallway. "What was that? Those... those ghosts? Did that really happen?" He wrestled with his own disbelief as they ran through the reception room to a hallway ahead.
Two pirates appeared at the other end and spotted them. "There!" one of them shouted in a choked voice, and the four of them turned and fled in the other direction.
The pirates shambled down the hall as if their bones ached terribly, even though they no longer had any to speak of. Their mouths hung open, filling the corridor with horrible moans. Their glassy eyes glowed ominously in the low light.
When they reached the reception room and the faint remnants of moonlight came in through the window, one of the pirates pointed down at the floor. The other one looked and saw big drops of water splattered around the hardwood. The trail doubled up and led down another hallway. The pirates gazed at each other then followed the trail to a powder room near the entrance hall. The buccaneers drew their cutlasses as they stood before the closed door, their blades every bit as phantom as they were, yet still sharp when they wanted them to be. They howled in a bloody rage and sank through the door, then they began slashing their swords around in the dark, cramped space. Their blades sliced through wallpaper and bounced off the plaster walls. A chunk of the ceramic vanity exploded. But no flesh was cut.
One of the pirates grunted and pulled open the door to let a little residual light in. And all that was in the room was a pile of soggy wetsuits and diving gear. Howling once more, they floated through the wall to the entrance to continue their search for blood.
Down the hallway, Dawson briefly poked his head out of a small sewing room. "They're gone," he told the others.
They huddled in the dark space for warmth as much as for safety.
Karen tried her cell phone again, but there was still no signal. "Check yours!" she told her brother.
"No signal," he said, holding up his phone to prove it.
"You guys?" she asked Bridgette and Dawson.
The Box Set of Hauntings and Horrors Page 54
