Catfish in the Cradle

by Wile E Young

  When I was finished, Lincoln was smiling; disconcerting with all of those pointed teeth.

  “What about you, son? Robichaude didn’t really explain much about…” I gestured to him. “This.”

  Lincoln lifted his hand and stared at the webbed veins that now had an odd green tinge to them, patterns forming on the skin. “I don’t really know Grampa. when Vicky watched me that second day, she made me drink the mercury… part of their god… my father, he’s been whispering in my head ever since.”

  I pondered on this for a moment, feeling kinship that I had tried to force for the past few days on bond of blood alone. He was a good kid, couldn’t help what he was.

  “Is he whispering to you now?”

  Lincoln nodded and his eyes dilated, becoming a few sizes smaller. “He wants me to kill you and come down to him, down where you escaped from.”

  I suddenly felt nauseous and it had nothing to do with the bumpy car ride.

  “I don’t want to do that, Grampa. I don’t want to be this way.” His fists, talons and all, closed and I saw pinpricks of tears in his eyes. “There’s no fighting it. Couple of hours I won’t be able to stand the air… I’ll have to go down.”

  My grandson’s voice never wavered, despite how afraid I could tell he was, and it let me know right then and there that despite his appearance and lineage, a part of him was still a man and kin. I was going to help him even if it spurred that heart attack that killed me. Just this once blood was thicker than water.

  “We’re here.”

  Gideon’s gruff voice interrupted any further conversation as we trundled slowly up the path towards Scott’s house. The funeral home director’s car was parked in the driveway, and I thought I could make out the flashing screen of a TV through the living room window. Davis and Luc pulled in behind us as Gideon killed the engine and got out of the truck.

  The rain was coming down hard as we made our way up the steps and out of the grey torrent behind us. Lincoln and Luc were both immediately on edge.

  “Something isn’t right.” The Cajun hoodoo man stepped up and placed his hand against the door and recoiled with a curled lip. “Yeah, bad juju.”

  None of us had thought to bring guns other than Gideon’s pistol, a .22 revolver that he clutched for dear life.

  Lincoln stepped forward. “Let me go first.”

  I thought of the hole that led down to the river in Scott’s basement. If some fish faced monster had come up…

  “Knock the door down, boy.”

  Lincoln didn’t have to be asked twice as he kicked the door. The hinges groaned in protest. He kicked it again and the door came free of the frame in a splintering crash of wood.

  The inside of the house was covered in shadows. Faint voices echoed from the living room.

  Gideon stepped up next to Lincoln, pistol clenched in his hand. Shivers ran up and down his arm and the barrel of the gun wavered from side to side as he scanned the hallway.

  “Davis, watch the cars. Make sure that nothing comes sneaking up behind us. Lincoln stay with him.” My grandson hesitated but backed down when he saw the look on my face.

  I motioned to Gideon and Luc. We dove into the house, taking a right and heading into the living room.

  The television was on, an old rerun of The Andy Griffith Show playing on the set.

  A corpse sat on the couch. A black woman, the wispy grey hairs struggling to hold their places on the top of her wrinkled head. They’d done her up good, the people who followed those damn things that lived under the lake. Fish were painted across her, bright yellow and greens contrasting with her dark skin. Catfish, gar, bass, bream, they’d taken their time to craft each one unique.

  Her mouth was open, and her tongue and eyes had been removed. I almost vomited when I saw the worms squirming around inside the empty sockets.

  “Oh my God,” Gideon whispered as he saw the shining hooks that had pierced her lips, corks and leads hanging from the metal like some sort of perverse Christmas trees. Algae had been splattered over her along with a crown of grey cypress moss.

  “An offering to Vhi’octa. The abomination will accept the dead flesh so it can nest its putrid deformed offspring.” Luc spat the name and the purpose of the corpse with disgust. “We need to find Scott.”

  I grunted and pointed at the basement door hanging ajar. Luc and Gideon didn’t have to be told to keep their voices down.

  The stairs were dark and at the bottom I thought I could hear water splashing. My heart pounded in my chest as I took the first creaking step, flicking the light switch in vain. I heard a click and the steps became illuminated by Gideon’s flashlight.

  The bottom of the landing was a formless mass of black water. Taking ginger steps that barely masked our footfalls we descended until the water was lapping at the edges of my boots. I took a deep breath that did nothing to calm my nerves and took that first trembling step. The water was warm, and I nearly choked on my own bile as it came rumbling up my throat. Choking it down, I tested the waters until I found the floor of the mortuary.

  The water was up to my waist. Knick knacks and other pieces of detritus floating through the grimy water.

  “Scott!” I hissed, my voice echoed off the walls and drifted back with the light lapping of water against the linoleum tiles.

  Gideon was beginning to pant behind me and I was sure that his heartbeat matched my own that was pounding away like a jackhammer. His flashlight swerved through the darkness left and right, bouncing off the walls and shining towards every little sound.

  “Calm yourself!” Luc hissed from the rear.

  There was deep croak from somewhere deeper in the basement.

  My hand leapt to my throat and the mojo bag dangling from around it.

  “Grab that magic tight, Grady Pope, and say your prayers,” Luc warned behind me.

  I told myself that when this was all over, I was going to box that boy behind the ears for playing creepy hoodoo man.

  Never had spent much time down here when we had Saturday night poker. Don’t think Scott had ever let anyone down here. Dignity for the dead or not, I didn’t particularly want to go tramping around where corpse upon corpse was stored in freezers. Uncertain didn’t have a high death rate but it did happen, and the thought that someone I might have had coffee with once upon time was floating underneath the water, hollowed out, ready to bump into me…

  It sent chills running up my spine.

  The darkness opened up to reveal a corridor that branched off in opposite directions. The water was beginning to eat at the wallpaper with damp lines mildewing the material, dark wet wood showing beneath it.

  There was a splashing sound from the right, louder than the lapping water, and what sounded like a grunt.

  “We’re going left, yeah?”

  I scowled behind me at Gideon, pretending that I wasn’t scared shitless. “Don’t let your balls shrivel up now. Water’s not even cold.”

  Gideon gritted his teeth as Luc waded up and put his hand on the moldering wall, staring down the dark hallway. “If you don’t want to go first Gideon, I will, but I would like that pistol of yours. unlike Mr. Pope, I’m not comfortable with a twitchy trigger finger behind me.”

  Gideon looked ashamed of himself and wiped the beads of sweat from his forehead, clicking the safety on and steadying himself against the wall. For the first time I noticed how old he seemed now, his experiences the past few days no doubt aging him fast.

  “No, I’m good. Just need to get ahold of myself. Been awhile since I’ve been this scared.”

  Luc pressed a hand against Gideon’s chest. “Our Father. who art in heaven…”

  I listened to him recite the entire prayer and when he was finished Gideon stood a little straighter, his hand no longer trembled. “Bit of belief goes a long way.”

  Didn’t bother asking; just trusted that the mumbo jumbo did its thing.

  “I’ll take point, Mr. Pope.”

  I wanted to chuckle, but even talking w
ith lowered voices was too much for my liking.

  Gideon sloshed past me through the water, handing his flashlight to me while he aimed the pistol down the narrow blackness.

  Wasn’t more than thirty feet to the end of the hall and we rounded the corner into another hall. It had two doorways that we could see; the flashlight couldn’t pierce the stretching dark that remained. One of the doors had been ripped from its hinges; it was floating on the water close to us, giant gashes torn down the aged wood.

  There was a sputtering light from inside the door.

  The three of us glanced at each other before I clicked off, the flashlight drowning us in a womb of blackness. The light fizzed, electricity vainly trying to keep the fluorescent contraption lit. There was a grunting followed by a pleased croak.

  We inched forward, each step on the submerged floor careful not to disturb the water lest whatever horror inside hear us and attempt to sate its inhuman desires. I put a hand on Gideon’s shoulder and I felt Luc’s hand on mine. We clustered around the door’s entrance, straining to see within.

  It was the freezer room where Scott stored the bodies until burial or cremation. There were about ten units and four of them had been ransacked, the iron drawers torn out in huge metallic gashes. Four corpses floated in the water, naked, in various positions.

  Two Deep Folk stood in the water; Scott and Misty Carter were strapped down to two gurneys by thick strands of moss. Scott’s mouth was bloody; small crawdads feasted heavily on the spluttering gurgles of blood that bubbled in his mouth. Misty was screaming, a dull sound that came out as a muted grunting; her mouth had been sewn shut.

  Victoria Barnes stood between them, a bathing suit top showing off her ample cleavage. She was clutching a brown cup that looked like it had been carved from a piece of driftwood. Her eyes had a mad gleam that transformed into a look of ecstasy as one of the Deep Folk grabbed her arm and warbled something in its guttural tongue.

  “Soon, soon, sweetie. I know our lord needs more.”

  My eyes twitched and I felt that heavy blanket fall over my mind, but the sight of the monstrosities didn’t feel nearly close enough now to break my mind. Probably Robichaude’s juju at work.

  Gideon was biting his lip hard enough to draw blood now. His breath had hitched in his chest and he stared in undisguised hate and hurt at the woman who until a few days ago had been the love of his life.

  The insane waitress reached under the water, searching for the creature’s loins. It threw back its head in a warbling hiss, its eyes blinking as its jaws clacked.

  The other Deep Folk sloshed forward and shoved its compatriot away, seizing Vicky’s arm in a vice grip and dragging it under the water to its own disgusting organ.

  “Boys, boys, there’s plenty for you both but we best get this done, yes?” Vicky said it all with a smile, pushing off the creature with a laugh as she precariously balanced the cup in her hand. The Deep Folk both backed off to the edge of the room and bowed their heads as Vicky raised the cup above her head.

  “Blessed be he who was formed from ancient blood, from innumerable worlds and times. Let him who comes at the tide speak what he wishes to us now.”

  Vicky lifted the cup onto Scott’s lips and poured the concoction into his mouth. He struggled momentarily, his lips attempting to spit out whatever it was that the insane woman was pouring in his mouth.

  Then his struggling ceased.

  Misty began screaming from behind her lips and struggling heavily until one of the Deep Folk stepped forward and pressed a hand down into her chest hard enough to cause her eyes to bulge. She began breathing heavily, trying to regain her wind.

  There was a hissing sound and I saw what looked like white melted candle wax slide off of Scott’s face as his ragged breathing became shallow and then stopped, replaced by what sounded like boiling water.

  Knew he was dead. Poison probably, but who knows what Vicky slid down his throat.

  There was a heavy weight on the air and then a gust of wind like a car had rushed past me. Scott Carter sat up on the table.

  I bit my tongue to keep from gasping; his eyes were gone, replaced by liquid mercury that ran in twin waterfalls down his cheek and into the water.

  “Vi’hocta, Mighty Warrior, Purity of Blood, we welcome you up from the Cradle and ask for your guidance.” Vicky parroted the words like a true believer; her back was to us and her head bowed.

  The two Deep Folk fell to their knees the water coming up to their waists as Scott opened his mouth, another torrent of mercury running down his chin and into the water. “Ch’aot…” The words came bubbling from Scott’s mouth, but his lips didn’t move. “F’jos a’eko sama.”

  The language was foul and guttural. I looked at Luc to make sure my eyes weren’t lying, that they’d worked some kind of mojo on our friend. A grim nod of his head confirmed it.

  The voice reminded me of mighty beasts ruling a world long forgotten. Of times and places so unfathomable in their horror that a man like me and as tough as I was wouldn’t have lasted a night against the things that had populated that place. This was the voice of the Deep Folk’s chieftain, and it was a monument to things better left unseen under the sun.

  Vicky nervously fidgeted before hesitantly replying. “We can’t find the last of the infernal channel markers, Master. the Robichaudes hid them too well. Your insight… your guidance… we pray for it.”

  The thing inside Scott reached out with a stiff hand, the movement making a sloshing sound; the bottom of his arm was dark and discolored. It backhanded Vicky with contemptuous ease, sending her sprawling into the water.

  A splattering of mercury hit the water as the woman pulled herself up, tears shining bright in her eyes.

  “CASHAX VOM BHOTCA LOSH!”

  Luc stepped forward before I could stop him. “If they bothered to think instead of fucking beasts then you’d already be drowning the world.”

  Scott’s sightless eyes looked up. His hair had liquefied, the metal running down his face like a blasphemous baptism.

  “Robichaude” The word came tumbling out like a curse as the Deep Folk growled and flanked the corpse sitting on the table. Gideon and I mimicking the motion with Luc.

  “My Lord, this was your sacrifice of flesh before the magician and this limp dick old—”

  Gideon pulled the trigger on the gun and Vicky’s head snapped back. Her eyes didn’t even have time to register shock before she toppled forward.

  The two Deep Folk roared and surged forward. Luc raised his hand quickly and blew a spray of yellow powder into both of the creature’s revolting faces. Both monsters stopped in their tracks, one of them mere inches from Gideon’s head. Their eyes bulged, and they grasped at their throats, their gills undulated, bodies relaxing.

  “Hajah ucolan Robichaude.”

  Scott’s mouth was still open; his bare chest had begun to dissolve into more of the liquid metal… wouldn’t be much left of him at this rate.

  “Gideon, Mr. Pope, get Mrs. Carter out.”

  I didn’t question the order, sloshing through the water within a hand’s breadth of the two Deep Folk, staring slack jawed at nothing.

  Scott turned its head towards me, nose dissolving. The throat clucked and made warbling croaking noises, the sightless eyes fixing me with a look of intense hatred.

  “Fuck you,” I replied as firmly as I could, my insides a storm of nausea as half of his face dissolved down to the bone.

  More words in their foul language of murky water and forgotten things, most of them directed at me but were spat in Luc’s direction.

  I tore the restraints loose. Misty sat up immediately and stared wide eyed at Scott who ignored her, his stomach dissolved the sputtering light strobing through his chest.

  The thing that possessed him continued speaking, its inhuman will driving it forward. The warbling tongue of the monster somewhere deep in the Cradle never ceased its unpronounceable and foul curses.

  “That’s enough of that.” Luc
said calmly as he stepped up to Scott’s corpse and drove an iron nail through its forehead.

  The flesh parted easily, eyelids shutting to cover the empty sockets before my friend’s whole body liquefied into mercury, running off the examination table and into the water.

  Luc looked weary as he balanced himself against the examination table. Misty was sobbing behind her stitched lips.

  “Lord in your mercy. may the gates open for him. Pardon his transgression, give him eternal rest, and spare him from the fire.” The Cajun hoodoo man crossed himself before turning to face the two Deep Folk.

  “Go back to the Cradle. tell your chieftain I’ve come, that he is mistaken to think that he will triumph here, that there is still time to bargain.”

  The Deep Folk nodded, their eyes dull as they backed away, the shadows closing in around them. The water got deeper and both monstrosities sank away, slipping under the surface without so much as a ripple.

  “You’re going to have to teach me some of that.” Gideon replied in awe, slipping a hand around Misty to support her.

  Luc waved a hand. Despite the damn chill in the air I could make out beads of sweat trickling down his forehead. “It… isn’t as easy as… it looks.” He was panting and leaning heavily against the table, his eyes drooping. “Once the spell’s done… really takes…” I caught him before he could slip under the water and supported him under my shoulders.

  “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

  Gideon didn’t have to be told twice and the two of us, supporting Luc and Misty, waded towards the door.

  There was a splashing sound behind us.

  I immediately whirled around. Nothing. But after the past few days I had learned it was never just nothing.

  “Gideon…”

  The younger man’s eyes began darting around the room as we began to back up, Vicky’s corpse floating on the water and the three corpses floating close to their freezer units.

  Three corpses…

  There had been four earlier.

  The corpse of an old white man disappeared under water, a woman who had been mangled in a car accident, another old man succumbed to a heart attack… like twisted ropes had wrapped around them and dragged them into a cold embrace.