by Wile E Young
His grip on the wheel tightened and I thought I felt the truck pick up speed. “Half these people are probably whammied so hard they don’t know how much time has passed. They’re trying to gaslight you hard, Grady.”
I didn’t have time to ask any more questions as we tore down Vicky’s driveway and came to rest before the house. Her home didn’t look as bright and hopeful as it had earlier that morning. I noticed everything that I had previously ignored: pieces of wood that the termites had gotten to, the chipped brick, crow droppings all over the roof. Filth covering the veneer of humbleness.
“There is a way in around back.”
Luc nodded, and I loaded the revolver I had brought with me. I slung the rifle over my shoulder and offered him my old 12 gauge, but he refused, pointing to the Bible in his jacket pocket. “This is powerful protection and my weapons aren’t as obvious.”
I hadn’t seen any fireballs or seas parting yet, but hell, the fish people had made a believer out of me.
There was no way that they hadn’t heard the truck’s engine, but I wasn’t worried. I wanted them to know I was here.
Wanted them to be afraid.
I admit that is desperate logic, but it gave me peace and made me feel braver than I actually felt. Couldn’t believe it, wouldn’t believe it. Vicky and Gideon wouldn’t betray me—they had been just as shocked at Lincoln’s appearance as I had been.
“How do you know they weren’t feeding you what you wanted to hear?”
Luc and I crept around the side of the house and I listened, trying to discern any noise coming from inside but hearing nothing but silence. We hit the brick wall of on the left side of the house and I strained on my tiptoes to look in the old window nearest me. Moisture had worked its way in between the glass panes over the years and had smudged the glass into a blurry tapestry that my old eyes had trouble seeing through.
From what I could see, the house was dark and empty.
Distantly I heard vague cheers and immediately knew where they were.
I tore across the lawn, heading straight for tree line and the woods; Luc was hot on my heels, trusting my judgment.
I could see Arnold Kizer and his wife with their backs to me huddled around Lincoln who drank deeply from an identical well that rested behind the parsonage. Couldn’t see hide nor hair of Vicky.
“Hey, hey!” I screamed as loud as I could and aimed the shotgun.
I heard Luc whispering prayers behind me as Richard whirled around. His face was a mask of comfort, but it was just that… a mask. Beneath that smile that promised to help I could see the bulging throat and pointed teeth hidden behind the pearly whites.
“Be careful, Grady Pope. He’s one of their half-breeds.” I glanced at Luc who clutched one of the red bags he had made tightly in his hand. At the mention of his race, that kindly smile dropped from the pastor’s face as his eyes dissolved in his head. The blue, comforting orbs trickled out of his face like runny egg yolk, silvery mercury splattering against the grass. They were replaced by black orbs so dark they might as well have been the deepest point of the ocean.
There was a popping sound; Arnold’s teeth began falling out of his head in bloody spurts as the sharp fangs as thin as toothpicks forced their way through his flesh. His dark skin paled and became a sickly grey. It finished its perverse transformation into a thing that only barely resembled the man it had been imitating.
Jeanette fell to her knees and bowed low as Arnold patted the side of her head, fused flesh leaving wet streaks in her hair. A warbling flow of consonants and croaks assaulted my ears and I gritted my teeth. It was horrible to listen to, like its sires in the river. My ears felt like blood should have been pouring out of them.
“Don’t know what the fuck you’re saying, but I swear to God one wrong move and I’ll be splattering caviar all over these trees.” I meant it; my finger was twitching against the trigger guard.
“Grampa?” And just like that, everything became moot.
Lincoln was a young man now, maybe thirteen years old. The clothes I had given him were tatters on the pine needle floor. His looks favored his mother; I could see the light curve of her chin on his face. The fused skin between his toes and hands had grown; I could see the veins pulsing beneath the flesh. His nails also had grown, beginning to curve into the talons of his other kin.
“Grampa, don’t hurt him… he and Miss Jeanette are helping me.”
“Lincoln? Why don’t you come over here?” Luc’s cool cadence didn’t do anything to assuage my fear as my grandson shook his head.
Dead skin peeled as his head and moved, revealing the dark muddy scales underneath it. “Can’t do that sir… my family needs me.”
The thing that had been Arnold Kizer croaked rhythmically, laughter no matter what language you spoke.
“You want to play with me?” I shoved the rifle towards the former preacher. “One more evil laugh and you’ll be picking up brain matter.”
“Grampa, please.” Lincoln stepped between me and Arnold. “Savant tried to convince you earlier, but you weren’t ready to let me go… he’s told me the truth these past few hours about what I am.”
My first instinct was to shoot him; his father was shining through those blank eyes and scales, his growth and slow transformation into a fucking freak… but his damn face… so much like his mother.
I cursed myself and my damn heart that ached never to be alone.
“Boy, your mom died because of these things and I can’t promise you I’m ever going to forget that. But I’m your blood, not this… thing!” I spat the word at Arnold or whatever the hell this monster was in front of me.
Lincoln shook his head, arms raised. “Mom broke the rules; she had pledged herself to my father.” My grandson looked genuinely sympathetic, hard to achieve when your teeth looked like they could have ripped the flesh off an alligator. “I don’t expect you to understand… but Arnold has told me how the faith works, how happy the brides are. Just look at Jeanette!”
The preacher’s wife nuzzled her head against the fishman’s hijacked flesh, smiling contently.
“It’s an honor to become a bride and this town’s duty to provide them.”
“Because they can’t get it up for their own.” Luc spoke with confidence, clutching the mojo bag in his hand tight. “They need you Lincoln, to continue this farce… this pact… you’re the first since old days, but you have free will, don’t have to do what they say you have to do.”
My grandson looked at the Cajun warily. “They told me about you too… about your sister…”
Luc fell into silence, glaring at Lincoln. My grandson looked guilty as he glanced between us and the abomination.
I glared at the fish faced monstrosity standing close by with his brainwashed woman. “I’m going to give you one warning: get the hell away from my grandson, get back to whatever hell you swam out of and tell his Daddy that if he has a problem, he can come take it up with me!”
I didn’t expect for it to answer back. “I tried to tell you Grady Pope… my master wants his… son.” The words came rumbling from its repulsive throat and I sneered in reply.
“Well he can come and tell me himself.”
The thing smiled “The log wasn’t… enough?”
My blood ran cold and I pulled the trigger.
The rifle fired and a bright spout of red blood appeared and Lincoln screamed incoherently as Savant clutched its neck, gurgling. Jeanette screeched and rushed to the thing, holding it and rocking it gently.
Lincoln’s eyes pooled with tears. “It could have been better Grampa, you don’t understand!”
“Boy…”
Savant screeched and lunged towards me; I fumbled trying to chamber another round.
Only Luc’s intervention saved me. Clutching the mojo bag tight he stepped forward, muttering prayers and sanctities. The fishman recoiled as Luc stepped forward. “I treat powers and principalities beyond even you.”
Lincoln ran forward, trying to get
his hands on the Cajun; I clocked him over the head with my rifle. He dropped like a stone bleeding from the blow.
Savant gargled an unearthly gargle before his free hand tightened around Jeanette’s throat and scuttled back to the well. The flesh seemed to fall off of him with every step, the stone scraping great pallid chunks as he tossed himself backward into the well, dragging the woman with him.
There was a second of silence and then a distant splash. Luc and I both rushed to the edge of the well but could only see darkness and the faint echo of disturbed water.
Chapter Sixteen
Lincoln stayed unconscious for the drive back to my home. I wanted to call the police, the Army, hell, the National Enquirer… we had proof literally tied up in my living room.
Luc had found himself at home in my bourbon and drank a triple. Apparently working magic had its tolls that I didn’t even bother trying to understand.
“Army won’t believe you, police will lock you up… treat Lincoln like he’s got a skin condition, not like he’s a half human spawn of a primordial race.”
“Well what are you suggesting then, Luc? Me and you against the monsters? Regular jamboree, ain’t it?”
The Cajun ignored me, continuing to nurse his glass. “The problem is we don’t know who in this town are members of the Deep Church. Savant already proved that he’s had sway over their minds.”
“Can’t you just put a whammy on them or something to find out who is in bed with the fish?”
Luc rotated his glass and gave me a look that made me feel like I had just added up to four and had come out with five instead. “It doesn’t work like that.”
I threw up my hands in exasperation and sank into my chair, reaching for the bottle of bourbon that Luc passed over willingly.
“Tell me, was there ever a real Arnold Kizer?”
Luc shook his head. “If there was, his innards have long been digested. That’s the danger of them half human children… what conjuring they can do is put to terrible purpose.”
He glanced over at Lincoln; I had put some old clothes on the boy that my belly had grown through rather than out of. He frowned as a long, stringy band of saliva fell from his mouth.
“Those skin suits are good for a time but come at the cost of a human’s life.” Luc coughed as the alcohol went down too quick. “Could walk around in someone else’s flesh myself if I wanted to dirty up my soul.”
I had grown up under my mother’s strict teachings that trafficking in hoodoo, voodoo, and whatever else counted as witchcraft under the Lord’s gaze, but I knew better than to voice my misgivings to the one man in the world that I could trust.
“Though there might be a way to find out.” Luc sat up, staring out the window all of a sudden, a devil’s grin played across his face. “Yes… yeah, that’s how we will find out.”
“Would you cut that theatrical bullshit and just speak plain?”
Luc rolled his eyes and pointed out to the river. “Where do you think a cult dedicated to fish people worships?”
****
As it turns out, they worshiped not that far away.
Night had fallen; we had both begun to prepare for our journey. Luc had spent the afternoon preparing workings and enchantments that he told me would be better if I didn’t understand. To speak of the magic would deprive it of its power.
Mojo sat silently on the floor, his eyes glancing as his master burned candles inscribed with our names. Luc prayed to God for our safe passage in our journey, that his hands would guide us and envelop us in protection from the evils of the deep.
Prayers were all well and good, but I preferred a good rifle that didn’t jam when it came down to it.
I had force fed Lincoln a cocktail that would keep him asleep for a few more hours. Luc snuffed out the candles when he finished his invocation and turned to me with a grave look.
“It’s time.”
I nodded and grabbed the keys to the boat. Luc leaned down and patted Mojo on the head. “Keep the boy here, buddy. Don’t let anyone take him.”
The dog chuffed and laid his head back down, eyeing Lincoln warily.
I took every gun that I owned; it wasn’t like the dog was going to be taking up the revolver to shoot any intruders. I had made sure each was armed in full. An old duffel bag carried ammunition as I slung the shotgun and rifle over my shoulder, the revolver and Sig Sauer adorning hip holsters. I must have looked ridiculous, like some old west cowboy out to get the gold and the girl.
Luc and I walked out of the back door, heading down to the boathouse. We didn’t speak to each other; nothing needed to be said as we loaded the boat and lowered it into the river.
We sped away down the channel and out into the main river. I flicked on safety lights as we flew across the water, dual red and green glows illuminated our faces as our wake disturbed the otherwise pristine river.
There were a few people out tonight, hunters most likely. We could see their boats nestled up small inlets and at the edge of creeks. I don’t think they paid us much mind as we passed… just another couple of stiffs out to see if they could catch the man-eater and make a quick buck.
Couldn’t know that an alligator with a taste for people was the least of their worries on this river.
A smattering of lake houses lined the right side of the river, fire pits and grills burning outside as families and friends took advantage of the warm spring weather. I had been to a few of those over the years, evenings of laughter and fun… hosted a few myself. Those were always the best evenings I remembered, shooting the breeze with Davis or Otis while the kids ran and played everywhere.
That’s the stuff that makes life worth living, when you find that little spot of peace in a busy and tough world. At the end of the day maybe that’s why these monsters angered me: they had taken my daughter, soiled my grandson with their blood, and destroyed lives. Those peaceful and good times that I had enjoyed and at the back of my mind hoped to experience again would never come again.
I would make them pay.
We rocketed down Government Ditch heading for the big lake. Luc had his eyes closed doing some sort of mumbo jumbo to let him in on where we needed to go.
The salvininia and water parted before us and suddenly we left the trees behind and entered the big lake.
“To your left, Mr. Pope. That copse of trees over there… kill the lights.”
I flicked a switch and the lights disappeared, drowning the both of us back into the darkness of the night. I throttled the motor down, letting the moonlight guide us until we reached the trees.
An old duck blind was nestled beneath the cypress, the rusty stilts keeping it from sliding headlong into the lake. Whoever had built it used Spanish moss and reeds to disguise the wood and metal. The ducks would never realize it was there. Hell, it was so well disguised that if Luc hadn’t told me where it was I wouldn’t have known it was there.
“Tie us off at the bottom. There should be a ladder.”
There was a small platform of wooden planks that had seen the better part of years. I tested them, making sure they were sturdy before putting my full weight down. There were a few groans and the wood gave slightly but didn’t break. Luc joined me on the platform and together we tied off the boat.
Like Luc had said, a small ladder allowed access to the blind and Luc disappeared up the rungs while I retrieved the duffel bag full of ammunition.
A pile of thatch and cypress hit the planks as Luc reappeared. “Let’s be quick about camouflaging the boat. Don’t know when this thing will happen.”
I didn’t think that we would be able to camouflage the 175 into anything natural looking but I went about trying the best I could, draping the cypress across tarps and off the side until the boat looked like I hadn’t cleaned it in years. “If anyone comes close, that’s not going to fool them.”
Luc was already climbing back up into the blind. “Let’s hope no one comes close then.”
The inside of the blind had seen better da
ys; there was a small table that had old stains, two shelves that had toppled to the floor and some old chairs.
“Why do you think they’ll come out here?”
“This was my family’s blind; I used to bring my little brother Leon out here. Good times...” He winced as the good memory transformed into a bad one. “The Deep Folk would meet Dad out here to when they had cause.”
The both of us lapsed into silence after that; nothing more to say and afraid that our voices would carry.
It was a quiet night on the lake, humid air cloyed around us and the mosquitoes buzzed incessantly, little pinpricks of pain met with death as I smacked the festering insects one after another. It was miserable going and I worried that I would catch malaria, West Nile, or any of those new diseases that the news loved to harp on and on about.
There was a distant boat engine, probably fisherman speeding back towards Mooringsport, voices laughed from a distant lake house.
Everything was calm.
I began loading my weapons, remembering the old proverb about the calm before the storm. Luc was mostly silent, though I heard him whispering occasionally, picking up snippets of prayers and other words that I didn’t understand. Hours passed slowly and the moon that had hung low under the trees now shone down brightly on the still waters.
There was a distant rumbling; it started small… thought it might have been a train somewhere in the deep woods.
The safety lights appeared like distant ghosts through the trees, the oranges, reds, and greens floating behind the forest as the boats appeared; three speed boats and a pontoon barge.
They came out of the channel that Luc and I had come from, back towards Uncertain. The occupants were shining gigantic spotlights that were bright enough to be miniature suns.
I ducked down. “If they shine those this way we’re screwed.”
Luc didn’t look worried. “You would be surprised how unobservant people are when their minds are focused elsewhere.”
I thought that was shit logic and I felt my heartbeat quicken as those grumbling boat motors grew closer and closer.
