"Time has passed. Where are you now?"
"I don’t know. We’re lost. Jerry and Corey started to argue and then Ashley began screaming. Now, everyone is quiet. We’re going somewhere, I don’t know where."
The doctor glanced toward Nick, who shook his head in dismay. The two thought the same thing. What had possessed the youngsters to go out into the swamp without a guide in the first place?
"Did you find something?"
"There’s a house, a house on sticks. It’s quiet. It was loud awhile ago; now it’s quiet. I’m scared. I want to go home."
"Did you go into the house?"
"Jerry and Corey did; they had to. It’s why we came."
"Is there anyone in the house?"
"Jerry went in with Corey to look. Jerry’s painting something on the wall out front. He looks pale. Corey’s coming out now. He’s talking with Jerry. They’re coming back to the boat."
"Go on."
"Corey said there were no survivors. He said there were people inside, but they must’ve drowned. Jerry said it was hard to tell; the animals must’ve gotten to them. Ashley asked if anyone went into the attic."
"Did they?"
"Corey says no. Jerry said he couldn’t understand it. They would’ve lived if they’d gone up there, but they didn’t go. He asked Corey what was up there. Corey said there was nothing up there. He’s not talking much about it, which is weird. Corey likes to talk. Ash says something’s wrong. Why didn’t they go into the attic?"
The doctor looked over at the detective with a questionable look on his face. Nick looked back and shrugged. Why didn’t they go into the attic? Ashley had been right; something was definitely wrong.
"Where are you going next?"
"It’s starting to drizzle. We need to get out of the rain, but no one wants to go inside the house. It’s creepy. We’re trying to find some shelter. We’re lost. I’m scared."
"It’s okay, Margaret. Where are you going now?"
"We’re lost. Jerry is arguing with Corey. He says that we’re just going further into the swamp. The rain is getting heavier, the water is getting rough. Ash is crying."
"Did you find somewhere to get out of the rain?"
"We had to. I didn’t want to get out of the boat, but the water’s getting rough. It’s windy, and the rain is coming down hard now. There’s an island. There’s some rocks we can tie the boat to. The island is overgrown with cypress and oak trees. They’re covered with moss. We find a dry spot underneath some tall trees. Oh my God!"
"What is it? What do you see?"
"They’re not trees. Not all of them are trees. They’re pillars. There’s an old staircase, an old fireplace. We’re at an old plantation. It’s starting to get dark. I’m scared."
"Shhhh, it’s okay Margaret, it’s okay. What are y’all doing now?"
"Corey went to get some firewood. He didn’t come back. Where is he? Why didn’t he come back? Jerry wants to go look for him, but Ash is getting hysterical. Where’s Corey? It’s starting to thunder. I want to go home."
"Did Corey return?"
"No. Jerry said he’d go look real quick and he’d be right back. He just left. Oh no!"
"What’s happening now?"
"Oh no, oh no," Margaret began to cry.
Dr. Newsome paused for a moment, not sure if they should proceed or stop right there. He glanced over toward Nick, who was staring intently at the girl, hanging on to every word.
"Did Jerry come back?" Nick asked.
"No. He screamed; I know I heard it. I told Ash it was just the thunder, but I know it was Jerry. He’s not coming back, he’s not coming back."
"So now, it’s just you and Ashley?" Nick continued, much to the doctor’s displeasure. He could see things were starting to spin out of control, but he knew the detective wasn’t going to stop now.
"Yes, I mean, no. No, there’s someone else, something else there. I’m scared. Ash is crying. I can’t get her to stop. She has to stop. The thing will hear us."
"What thing?" asked Nick.
"It’s coming. Shut up, Ash, its coming. I see it. It’s standing in the rain, when the lightning flashes, I can see it. It’s looking right at us. Oh my God! It sees us. It has red eyes; red eyes staring right at us. Shut up, Ash, shut up for God’s sake!"
"What’s happening now?" Nick asked.
"I don’t see it. It’s gone. No, it’s not. I know it’s here. Oh my God! It’s here! Ash screamed at it. She told it to go away. She told the monster to go away. I think it’s mad. It screamed back at us. A loud roar. Ash’s running away. No! Oh no, oh no, oh no! The thing got Ash. Oh no!"
The girl broke down, sobbing loudly, tears running down her pale cheeks. Just when Dr. Newsome was going to stop the whole procedure, Margaret composed herself. She began to speak again, her voice barely above a whisper.
"I’m alone. I don’t want to die. I have to get to the boat."
"Where are you?" the doctor asked.
"I’m trying to find the boat. I see the rocks. The boat is by the rocks."
"Are you by the rocks?" Nick asked.
"I hear it. It’s coming. I’m hiding behind one of the rocks. The ground is loose; I’m sinking in the mud. I’m too scared to look over the rock. Oh my God! There’s a name on the rock. It’s a tombstone; I’m lying on a grave. I don’t want to die! I’m running to the boat. It’s gone, the boat’s gone. The thing is right behind me. I’m turning around."
"What do you see?" asked the detective.
"It’s a monster. Its red eyes are staring at me. It’s covered in blood. Oh no, it’s Jerry’s blood, its Corey’s blood, oh Ash. It has claws, big sharp claws. I’m falling to my knees. It’s going to kill and eat me. Sharp teeth, flesh hanging off the teeth. I have to throw up, but I’m too scared. I’m crying. I look at its face once again. I can’t look away. It’s just staring at me. I plead with it, don’t kill me, please. Don’t kill me. Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee."
The girl’s voice trailed off, a blank expression returned to her face. Slowly, her mouth began to move. She was trying to say something. The two men craned their necks and listened intently, trying to make out what the girl was saying.
"Margaret, what do you see?" Nick quietly asked.
"It’s just staring at me. Oh no, oh no, oh no. It’s smiling at me," she whispered. "He’s smiling at me!" Margaret shouted. "He’s smiling at me! He’s smiling at me! He’s smiling at me!"
Margaret was hysterical. She jumped out of the chair and flung herself at the wall before being caught by Dr. Newsome. Two orderlies came abruptly into the room and helped the distraught woman back into the chair, where she collapsed in tears.
"What are you doing now?" asked Nick before the doctor could stop him.
"Running; I’m running. I have to get out of here. I have to get out of here," Margaret sobbed. "I have to get out of here," she cried once more, her voice barely a whisper.
"When I snap my fingers, you will awaken. You will remember nothing. Everything will be as it was. Do you understand me, Margaret?" Dr. Newsome said.
Margaret was no longer listening. She reverted back to her catatonic state. Dr. Newsome kept trying in vain to awaken her from her trance to no avail.
Nick showed himself out, quite certain that he was no longer a welcome guest at St. Elizabeth’s. It was true the doctor had warned him about opening up doors that could never be closed. No matter, thought Nick. He had to do what he had to do.
Within days, the girl’s family swooped in and had her transferred back to Iowa just as the doctor predicted. The competent staff of the Des Moines Institute of Mental Health worked with their new patient for years. Unfortunately, just like the doctor before them, they were unable to help the girl awaken from her terrible nightmare and the frightening image of the smiling monster that she was forever trying to run away from.
In the end, Nick didn’t get much he could use from the hysterical woman. He knew better than to believe in ghosts and m
onsters. He shared no illusions that he would discover the ruins of a haunted plantation buried deep in the swamp. No, the only thing he found useful was what he determined to be the true source of the girl’s nightmares. He knew that’s where he was going to start his search – the empty house built on sticks that became a family’s tomb. Nick knew the name of that family all too well, the St. Pierres. He knew where he would find them, a place hidden deep amid the cypress trees – a place called Bayou Noir.
Chapter Sixteen
Boo Marie
When Nicholas got back to his desk, he was called into the sheriff’s office immediately.
"The good doctor called me up as soon as you left," the sheriff stated. "He went on pissing and moaning about you disturbing the mentally ill. I would’ve told him to go fuck himself, but I figured you’d done enough damage for one day. Before you even start, let me tell you, I don’t give a shit about whatever went down over there, as long as you get results. Tell me. Was it worth your while?"
"Yes, sir, I believe so," Nick replied.
"Personally, I don’t know what kind of useful information you’re gonna get from some nut locked up in the loony-bin, but you’re the one who claims to be the expert, and it’s your ass on the line."
"Yeah, I get your point, Sheriff. Unfortunately, the girl locked up over there is the only known survivor of that lost search party. As muddled as her memory is, it’s the only thing we have to go on."
"Like I said, Detective, as long as you get results, I don’t give a shit how you get them. Of course, there is one thing you might want to keep in mind."
"What’s that?" Nick asked.
"Everyone ‘round here has heard those stories about that thing hunting people deep in the swamp. You know and I know that’s all a bunch of superstitious nonsense, but some of these yokels ‘round here believe that shit. You’re gonna have to put a search party together to go out there, and you might find those stories could make that difficult to do."
"Yeah, I thought about that, too. Got any suggestions, Sheriff?"
"Jean Landry and his clan are the closest thing you’ll find to knowing anything about the St. Pierres. He knows where they live and how to get there. I doubt that he’d be willing to even talk to you though, much less take you out there. If I were you, I’d ask Charlie and Dean to hook you up. They’ll know who’s who and what’s what. Invite them out for a beer or two, and I’m sure they’ll help you out."
"Thanks, Sheriff, I appreciate the advice."
"No problem, just get it done before anyone else comes up missing. We need to nip this swamp monster crap in the bud before things get out of hand."
Nicholas could not have agreed with the sheriff more. The ridiculous stories of supernatural creatures lurking in the swamp were only going to make an already difficult job even harder. The sooner they laid these rumors to rest, the better for everyone.
Nick took his boss’s advice and asked the two deputies out for drinks that evening. They both readily agreed – so readily that Nick figured the sheriff had already advised them to help out the new guy. Nicholas was thankful for the man’s intervention. He was the odd man out and, left to his own devices, he might have a hard time finding locals willing to give him some help – help he desperately needed.
Although Nick had grown up in the area, he was now a city boy at heart. He hated the swamp. He didn’t own a boat. He didn’t go fishing or hunting and had no idea what he was doing when it came to navigating the vast wetlands he was being forced to enter. Without a local guide, he was dead in the water. Under the circumstances, that was not an expression that gave him any comfort.
That evening, he met the two men at a local watering hole – Pete’s Landing. The place was a little run down, not much bigger than a double-wide trailer, covered with neon signs, and with a shell-covered parking lot off of the main highway. There wasn’t much competition for clientele, so Pete’s generally had a fairly decent size crowd. That Thursday night was no exception.
"Good to see you again, Nick," Dean said as they shook hands. "You remember Deputy Charlie Doucet."
"Yes, sir, I believe so," Nick replied.
"Follow me. We have a table in the back where we can talk," Dean said as he walked toward a corner booth.
"I’m sure the waitress will be over in a few. The service is usually pretty good here," Charlie stated as he and Dean took swigs of their beers. "I hope you don’t mind that we started without you."
"Of course not," Nick replied. "I’ll just have to play a little catch-up. That is, if y’all don’t mind."
"Nope, not a bit," Dean answered.
"Bobby said you’re gonna need some help putting a search party together," Charlie stated.
"Yep, sure am."
"Normally that wouldn’t be much of a problem. Unfortunately, things haven’t been too normal around here lately," Charlie said.
"Everyone’s spooked," Dean added. "They’re all afraid of that damn thing out there. Damndest thing, if you ask me; a bunch of grown men acting like children, hiding from monsters in their closets."
"It’s real enough to them, I suppose," Charlie said. "The stories are coming every day now. People seeing things, hearing things; some of them stories sound pretty spooky, too. You sure you want to go out there?"
"Yeah, well I don’t believe in ghosts, or monsters," Nick answered. "I am no fan of the swamp, but if I can go into the projects in New Orleans in the middle of the night looking for gang-banging crack dealers, I sure ain’t afraid of some made-up bullshit about the boogey man."
The men laughed.
"No," Dean said. "I guess you aren’t. We’re in luck; here comes our waitress."
"Hello, Nick. It’s been a long time."
Nick looked up and his heart skipped a beat. He felt a lump in his throat, but he pushed through it and feebly responded, "Marie, it’s good to see you."
"You two know each other?" Dean asked.
"Obviously, they know each other," Charlie said. "Great detective work there, Deputy."
"I’m sorry to hear about your mother," Marie said. "We’re all en d’oeuille over her passing."
"Yes," Nick responded. "She was a good woman. It’s hard to believe she’s gone."
"I saw her from time to time when I went to visit my parran at the nursing home. She told me what a success you’ve become, living over in the city and all. That woman sure loved you."
"Yes, she did. I loved her, too. I’m sorry I didn’t come to visit her enough when she was here. Now, all I’ve got left is regret."
"Enough of that to go around, Boo," Marie said before looking up and addressing the others at the table, "Can I get y’all another round?"
"Sure thing," Charlie said. "You can give me and Dean another of the same. What about you, Nick? What’re you having?"
"You can bring me one of those, I guess," Nick answered. "On second thought, might want to bring me two; I’ve got some catching up to do."
After Marie left the table to tend to the drinks, Dean spoke up first. "I didn’t know you and Marie knew each other. Small world, I guess."
"Yep, small world," Nick replied. "We dated in high school for a bit. Last I heard, she got married to Ronnie Savoy."
"They’re divorced," Charlie said. "It’s been a couple of years now. Of course, he still comes around and gives her trouble from time to time. His family came into a load of cash from some oil leases, and now the lot of them think they own the parish and everyone in it. Way I hear it, she caught him cattin’ around town with a stripper and left him. He’s been giving her hell about it ever since."
"I’m sorry to hear that," Nick said. "It’s been a long time since I’ve seen either one of them. I hadn’t really thought about them for a long time."
That was a lie. Nick thought about Marie all of the time, even after all these years. Sure, he’d had a number of girlfriends and even a couple of serious relationships in the time since he left and started a life elsewhere, but there was only one first lov
e. Marie LeBlanc was his.
He had to admit to himself that he wasn’t entirely unhappy about the failure of her marriage, although he was not pleased that Marie had to suffer any abuse from her ex-husband. Nick remembered Ronald Savoy to be somewhat of a jerk, but he also knew that his opinion of the friend that ran off with the girl he loved wasn’t the most objective it could be. Still, he reasoned, even though he had suffered a broken heart in silence for so long over the matter, he felt no joy in seeing Marie struggle because of her unfortunate choice in life.
"Well, here is something that you might be happy to hear about," Dean stated. "We think we have someone that’s willing to take you out in search of those lost kids."
"Go on," Nick said.
"Charlie here has a cousin, Frank Guidry, that runs the swamp all of the time and knows it like the back of his hand. Ain’t that right, Charlie?"
"Sure does. He and his boy are gator hunters. They go deep into the swamp all the time – day, night, rain, or shine," Charlie answered. "I know for a fact that Bobby’s willing to put enough cash on the table for Cap’n Guidry and son to hire a few of their buddies and take you wherever you need to go. Of course, there are a few catches, as always."
"Such as?" asked Nick.
Before Charlie could answer, Marie was back at the table with the drinks. They resumed casual conversation until she left again to tend to the other customers vying for her attention.
"For one thing," Dean answered, "you have to keep the talk about that swamp monster to a minimum. Some of them boys are highly superstitious, and they aren’t going to be too keen to go anywhere they might end up some creature’s lunch."
"Now, why would I even bring that up?" Nick asked.
"No reason," answered Charlie, "so don’t. But some of them will. Don’t mock their beliefs when they do, just keep your mouth shut as much as possible. Without them, you’re stuck. You screw it up, ain’t no one else going to take you out there, in which case, you’re out of luck, out of a job, out of a paycheck, and out of here."
"Gotcha," Nick nodded, "anything else?"
"First person y’all gonna look up is Jean Landry. He ain’t gonna talk to you, no how. Best to let Francois do the talking," said Charlie.
Billy: A Tale Of Unrelenting Terror Page 8
