Terror Town

by James Roy Daley

  “Yes, please do. And send an ambulance too. Patrick may need it.”

  William and Beth jumped into Daniel’s car. They backed out of the stone gravel driveway quickly. William waved through the open window, frazzled.

  Once the car was gone Daniel looked towards the lake.

  Oaks, birches, and a few scattered elms, framed his view, blocking a small portion of the sky’s only cloud. The cloud was small and feathery and fractured near the middle. An old picnic table sat on the beach with its legs embedded in the sand. Circular rocks surrounded a fire pit that was getting slightly bigger each passing year. Beneath the full and bloated moon, light shimmered in the peaceful water. There was a raft, anchored in place for eight summers now. It sat fifty odd feet from shore in water that was ten feet deep and clear enough to see through when the sun was shinning. He could hear crickets, frogs, loons, and the hum of a hundred million bugs. The air was fresh, warm but not muggy, neither dry nor damp. On the far side of the drink, a pair of fires burned brilliantly and the voices of those enjoying the flames echoed in spills of laughter.

  He loved evenings like this.

  In a different set of circumstances he would sit at the edge of the dock for hours, soaking in the nature, fishing rod in hand. The air was just right. The weather was perfect. On a typical day, he could sit on the dock for sure.

  Daniel went inside the house and closed the door tight. He made his way upstairs and entered the bathroom. He cleaned the wound on his leg and wrapped it in gauze before entering the master bedroom. There was a cushy recliner in the far corner of the room sitting next to a reading lamp and a door that led to a bathroom. The king-size bed was just the way he left it: unmade, with silk sheets crumpled on the floor. There was an empty beer bottle on one of the night tables, sitting next to an iPod and the newest edition of Playboy. Everything looked the same, but he had a strange feeling that somebody had been inside the room, unannounced and uninvited. He didn’t know why he felt that way but he did. Nothing seemed different; nothing seemed out of place. But still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something had changed.

  Dan opened the closet door, pushed a duffel bag aside and pulled a stack of paperbacks from the top shelf. One book fell to the floor: Clive Barker, Cabal. He kicked it aside, grabbed an old shoebox and sat on the bed with it. He opened the box. It had a black metal gun inside, sitting next to a small case with four, seven-bullet clips. The gun was an unloaded Charter Arms .32 automatic. It had a charcoal colored grip and smelled like oil. He ran his finger along the trigger guard before he lifted the weapon from the box and loaded one of the clips. Then he held the weapon to his forehead, took a deep breath, and closed his eyes.

  “Lord,” he whispered, squeezing the cool metal with his fingers. “I don’t ask for much, you know I don’t. But if you exist… if you’re really, really, out there somewhere… please help me now. Help me in my time of need. Give me the guidance, the courage, and strength I require. If not for me, do it for the boy. Do it for Patrick.”

  He opened his eyes and stood up, gun dangling in his hand. After slipping the three remaining clips into his front pocket, he unlatched the weapon’s safety with his thumb.

  He was ready.

  It was time to enter the basement.

  6

  Pat stood in Roger’s blood with his hands dripping red. His face was speckled and the front of his shirt was drenched. Intestines sat on the ground near his feet, steaming in the cold air. Roger’s insides smelled strong and unsettling, like copper mixed with something unfamiliar.

  He stepped away from the gore and walked towards the ladder, slowly, cautiously, knowing the creature was above him somewhere. He didn’t know how far away the beast might be, or if it would return some time soon. Maybe he’d come face to face with the animal. Maybe he’d be eaten alive. With so many uncertain factors to consider he knew he was risking his neck for sure. But still, he wanted to look up the shaft. Needed to, in fact. He didn’t know what else to do.

  Once he was beneath the opening he stared up, into the passage, trying to be as quiet as possible, praying he wouldn’t come face to face with terrible destiny.

  He could see the 500-watt light tied to the extension cables, swaying back and forth like a body at the gallows pole. The light was still on; the area around it was bright. Everything else was dark. If the monster was hiding in the shadows it did not show itself. If it was creeping toward him it was doing so gently.

  Was the trap door closed? It seemed that way.

  Some friends, Pat thought despairingly. If the door was closed he was trapped. If the door was open the beast was blocking his path and the result was the same. Did it really matter one way or the other? He supposed it didn’t.

  He walked away from the opening with a fingernail between his teeth. This was bad. Very bad. He still didn’t know what to do or what options he had.

  Think Patrick… think.

  Halfway across the room he remembered his cell phone. He pulled it from his pocket and dialed 911.

  No reception.

  He returned the phone to its place, cursing beneath his breath.

  So much for that idea, he thought.

  The phone wasn’t going to work and he was too deep in the earth to expect anything different. So now what? He needed assistance but there was nobody to talk with. He was thirsty and without water. He was hungry and without food. He was worried with good reason. He needed to hide but there was no place to go.

  Except––

  He looked at the door the creature had come from, wondering what was on the other side. Perhaps there was another exit waiting to be discovered.

  Or another one of those things.

  He walked across the room and put his hand on the wood. Looking down, he saw Roger’s arm lying next to a pile of intestines.

  His eyes squeezed shut.

  Slowly, cautiously, he pushed on the door and opened his eyes.

  The room was dark. For a moment he considered announcing his presence and saying hello, but saying hello was a terrible idea, a dreadful idea. So he stepped inside the room with his neck extended and his hands curled into fists. The door stayed open, being that the bottom edge was wedged against the floor, and something else. Might have been a chunk of Roger.

  The smell, he noticed, was appalling. It reminded him of spoiled fruit, dead animals, and compost.

  He put a hand on the wall and came up lucky, finding a light switch. Flicking it on, he came up lucky again: florescent lights sprang to life.

  Now he could see.

  The room was approximately half the size of the first room, with the ceiling being at the same height. It had a hallway at the far end. Stacked against each wall were hundreds of metal cases and wooden crates. Each case was marked with a simple government label. Some of the cases were small, the size of a lunch box. Others were about the size of a small car. There were a few old bones on the floor, scattered and broken. Pat didn’t notice the bones. He didn’t notice the boxes either, not really, not at first.

  His eyes were focused elsewhere.

  Hanging from the ceiling in the back corner of the room was a large cocoon. It was twenty feet wide and eight feet tall. Beneath the webbing, more cocoons were attached to the crates and walls. Two dozen of them. But these silk houses were smaller, each being roughly the size of a washing machine. They were white, mixed with a dusty black tinge that looked like coal dust.

  While Pat eyed the cocoons he saw something that made his legs feel weak: some of the cocoons were shifting, moving, shaking. The things that lived inside were ready to hatch. And the pair of cocoons he didn’t see––the two on the ceiling, hanging directly above him––weren’t ready to hatch. They already had.

  7

  Stones crunched beneath the wheels and a tree branch grazed the roof as William pulled Daniel’s car onto the road.

  “Do you think she’ll be alright?” Beth asked.

  “You want the truth or do you want me to make you feel
better? I can lie if you’d like me to.”

  “That bad, huh?”

  “I think so.”

  Beth turned towards the backseat and studied Cameron’s face in the varying shadows. Touching her cheek, she said, “Cam might be dead already, you know. She looks dead.”

  “I can’t believe she killed Hellboy. What was she thinking?”

  A small bird swooped in front of the vehicle’s headlights as they drove past Nicolas Nehalem’s car.

  Beth said, “I don’t know. You hit her pretty hard with the crowbar.”

  William flinched like he’d been slapped. “What was I supposed to do? She was trying to kill Daniel! She was trying to strangle him to death, right in front of me! She would have killed us all if she’d been given the chance! Don’t you know that?”

  “Don’t get so upset.”

  “But I am upset! I am!” William slammed a hand on the steering wheel, swallowing back half his frustration. “How can I not be upset? And what the hell was that thing in the shaft? Can you answer me that? It looked like something from a science fiction movie!”

  “I don’t know what it was, but it was strong. I thought it was going to smash apart the trapdoor.”

  “Damn right it was strong! Did you see how big it was? I’ve never seen anything like it!”

  “You know,” Beth said, speaking with a curiously calm tone, a voice designed to relieve some of William’s tension. She looked down at her big hands and coupled her fingers together. “Scientists discover new species everyday. It happens so often its not even newsworthy. They’re finding an average of two new species a week in South America. Did you know that? It’s true. And I’m not just talking about bugs and stuff. I’m talking about all kinds of things. Bats and snakes and rodents that don’t look like anything at all.”

  Beth was quite good in traumatic situations. She was a social worker in Maplebrook, a neighboring town. As a supervisor in a group-home for troubled teenagers she had a staff of nine working day and night, caring for six girls and four boys. The job fit her personality perfectly. She was big enough to deal with the physical confrontations, she liked having authority, and she enjoyed helping people in need. More importantly, the job made her feel like she was making a difference in the world. She couldn’t imagine doing anything less.

  William wasn’t having it.

  He shook his head. “Is that supposed to make me feel better? Scientists don’t come across things like that everyday, now do they? That fucking thing is newsworthy!” He pulled a hand off the steering wheel and waved his index finger in the air like he was trying to accentuate a point. “You bet your ass that thing is newsworthy! It looked like a big hairy fur-ball with a whole bunch of mouths stuck to it! Have you ever seen anything with more than one mouth? I haven’t!”

  “Spiders have eight eyes.”

  “Spiders can go to hell!” Will’s line of vision slipped from the road and locked onto nothing in particular. He looked ready to crack. “I can crush a spider with my thumb, Beth! With my thumb! Do you think I’d have any luck crushing that thing beneath my thumb? Christ! It was like a dinosaur or something. How the hell did the scientific community miss that little darling, huh? Tell me that!”

  “Keep your eyes on the road. You’re driving like a maniac.”

  William refocused.

  Beth said, “A Goliath Tarantula is almost thirty centimeters across, you know? Thirty centimeters is bigger than a dinner plate. And I found an interesting article about a fossil. Apparently they discovered a spider-like creature that was a half-meter long.”

  Will gasped. “This thing was giant! Didn’t you see it? Was I the only one there? It was the size of a water buffalo!”

  “You’re upset.”

  “Damn right I’m upset!”

  “Well stop taking it out on me! I’m just trying to help.”

  William crushed his teeth together and closed his eyes. When he opened them he slowed the car down and apologized, saying, “I’m sorry. I’m just upset––”

  Beth interrupted. “It’s okay. Don’t worry about it.”

  William turned a corner. He went from one dirt road to another. A few seconds later he stopped at an intersection, a four way stop. There were no cars approaching from any direction. Looking left he could see thousands of trees. It was the beginning of a forest that went on for acres. Stalks of corn inhabited the fields on his right. Beyond the corn, if you looked past an open pasture, there were two-dozen horses standing near a farmhouse. Maybe more.

  In the backseat, Cameron stirred. Her eyes opened. A smile without happiness crept across her face and a giggle escaped her lips.

  Neither Beth nor William noticed.

  “Listen,” Beth said, running her fingers through her hair. “Don’t get all freaky on me here, just listen. When I was a kid my father ordered subscriptions from Time-Life books. He had books about history and war, animals, the sea, science, space… you name it; he bought it. Every couple weeks he’d acquire a new book and nobody was allowed to touch it. But I was a kid and I was curious, and whenever he wasn’t around, which was fairly often, I’d sneak into his den and look through his books whether he liked it or not. I was always careful. I never looked at the newest one. I knew if I ever smudged dirt on a new one my ass would be redder than the sun.” Beth paused, searching her memory bank.

  William drove through an intersection and did what Beth had instructed: he kept his eyes on the road.

  “He had this one series called ‘The Mysteries of the Unknown’. They were beautiful hardcovers, filled with interesting facts and amazing photography. They were my favorite, tackling stories about UFOs, dinosaurs, and all the other things that made kids like me have a hard time sleeping. Well… there was this one volume called ‘Unidentified Creatures’––something like that. It had those washed out photographs of the Lock Ness Monster and Sasquatch. You know the ones. They’ve been shown on television a million times.”

  Will nodded. He knew the ones.

  “But inside this book they had these other photographs too, ones that don’t get much publicity. And this was the stuff that just made me dizzy with excitement. I don’t know why exactly. But the point is, in 1976 they found an unknown species of shark that had the expression of a man. Damn thing looked like a giant, squished boot with a face on it. In 1936 they found a fish off the Comoro Islands that had been extinct for seventy million years––or so they thought. In 1977 Japanese trawlers caught a four thousand pound carcass, snapped a photograph, and threw the creature overboard. The scientific community still has no idea what the damn thing was, but they know what it looked like: it looked like a dinosaur, like something that wasn’t supposed to be here.”

  “You have dates and everything.”

  Beth said, “Yeah I have dates.” The fact that she was guessing them didn’t seem important. “When I was growing up my parents didn’t believe in television. So yeah, I’ve got dates. I’ve got the library memorized.”

  “No TV? Really?”

  “Oh, we had one. But I was never allowed to watch it. Plus we didn’t have cable and my parents kept the only TV set in their bedroom… another room that was off limits, I might add.”

  “Sounds like your parents were tough on you when you were younger.”

  Beth could hear the change in William’s tone. She was draining the anger from him successfully and forcing him to think about other things. She decided to give him a little something to think about, although she didn’t enjoy bringing it up. “They were militant, that’s for sure. They used their fists to communicate and they put me in the hospital more than once.”

  William’s eyes widened. “No kidding. You were abused? But your parents seem so nice.”

  “They changed with the times, I guess. Everybody does.”

  “Yeah, I suppose. Was it your dad? Was he the––”

  Beth interrupted. “Both of them had mean streaks and ruled the house by force. That’s probably why I’m a social worker now.”r />
  “I had no idea.”

  “Do me a favor, don’t tell anyone. That was a long time ago. They’re different people now.”

  “Yeah, sure Beth. I won’t say anything. No problem.”

  Beth tapped her fingers against her leg and returned to her story. “Anyway… back in 1920 an expedition of travelers explored the jungles of Colombia and Venezuela. They were in the jungle a week or so before they were attacked. Like us, Will. Just like us. They were in the wrong place at the wrong time, I suppose, attacked by things unknown and undocumented.”

  William looked into his rear view mirror.

  There was someone behind him, following closely. He didn’t recognize the car.

  Beth continued: “The explorers got lucky. They killed one of three beasts. The other two ran off. So the explorers, knowing they had something special, propped the dead body up on a fuel crate. They put a long stick beneath the creature’s jaw to hold it in place and then they snapped a photograph. The photograph isn’t blurry or taken from far away. It’s perfect. To this day scientists have no idea what the animal is.”

  Beth took a deep breath.

  “That photograph really freaked me out. I must have looked at it every evening for a year. It looked like Bigfoot or something, like an ape. It had human features and intelligent eyes. Its arms were almost the entire length of its body. Its feet and hands looked exactly the same, if you can imagine. All four of them seemed to be placed on the wrong limb somehow. It was like this thing was born with its left hand on its right arm and its right hand on its left arm. Its leathery fingers were the size of bananas. It was the craziest, weirdest animal I ever saw.”

  William tried to imagine what that would look like––to have your hands on the wrong arms. He couldn’t do it.