The crew drifted carefully through the swamp, navigating the narrow streams and bayous while keeping a watchful eye on their surroundings and their fingers on the triggers of their guns. When it seemed as though the sky was going to dump a torrent of precipitation on the men, the rain suddenly abated. A bright flash of sunlight lit up the swamp, shining down through the leaves and Spanish moss overhead and giving everything around them a warm glow. A slight breeze broke through the oppressive, stagnant air. An unspoken sense of relief was felt amongst the crew, and everyone began to breathe a little easier for the first time since they came across the creepy shack hidden amongst the trees. After a few pleasant moments, as if on cue, the men became aware of the deathly silence that engulfed their environment. Before a word could be spoken, a familiar, but terrifying, roar broke the silence.
"Eeeeeeaaaaaaagggghhhhhh!"
"Merde’!" Dennis shouted. "Dat t’ing scares da shit out of me every time."
"It came from back dere," Joe said, pointing to a patch of overgrown swamp grass.
"We got it now," said Cap’n. "Henry, y’all go ‘round toward da right. Go quiet now, nice and easy. We gonna go down dat way to da left. We gonna make a bit of noise to distract it some. When da time comes, everyone blast away. Just remember to aim low; we don’t wanna catch each other in da crossfire. Ain’t no hospitals out here. Any of us do somethin’ stupid and get shot, we’ll be using one of dese bags Nick brought along."
The men sprung into action. Hunting came naturally to the Swamp Rats, as they’d done it successfully since they were young children. At last, the tables were turned. They had the creature cornered, out-numbered, and grossly out-armed. It was time for justice; it was time for vengeance.
Before long, the boats were in position. Cap’n Guidry suddenly hollered out, causing Nick to almost drop his Glock overboard. Gunfire erupted, breaking the unholy silence of the swamp with a relenting explosion of artificial thunder. After what seemed like an eternity, the firing stopped.
Smoke filled the air and the small patch of vegetation looked like it had been chewed up and spit out by an industrial turbine of monumental proportions. The men looked on, not knowing what to expect. Nothing stirred amongst the shredded swamp grass on the small mound of mud. The men cautiously approached, each boat from opposite sides, until they were upon the site of the carnage.
"I don’t see nothin’," Dennis said.
"There’s nothin’ here," agreed Kenny.
"Wait. There’s blood," Nick said, pointing to a small area barely visible below the surface of the water.
Joe reached over with a long, metal pole, and hooked onto a batch of unrecognizable flesh, pulling it to the side of the boat. He reached down and turned the floating object over as the crew looked on in horror. A disfigured face became distinguishable amongst the torn flesh and blood bobbing up and down in the filthy water.
"Frank," muttered Joe.
"Oo ye yi!" shouted Cap’n Guidry, tears filling his eyes. "My boy! What you done to my boy, feet pue tan! You goddamned son of a bitch!"
A loud clap of thunder erupted overhead, and rain came crashing down upon the mournful group. The sky darkened from the sudden cloud cover, and they all knew what was left of the sun was rapidly sinking beyond the horizon. Soon, night would be upon them, and they’d be forced to face down the beast in the dark. The feelings of sadness, anger, and desperation enveloped the men as they became drenched in the downpour and the boats began to fill with rainwater.
"Eeeeeeeaaaaaagghhhh!"
The unwelcome roar called to the crew from a distance even further into the swamp. It struck into the hearts of the men, hitting each where they hurt the most. Cap’n Guidry felt what was left of his heart split into shards of broken glass, ripping into his soul and filling him with loss and hatred. To the rest of the Swamp Rats, their chests beat wildly with fear and dread. The nightmares of their childhood came bursting to the surface, filling their distraught minds with visions of big teeth and sharp claws.
"Eeeeeeeaaaaaaagggghhhh!"
To Nick, the sound left a feeling indescribable. He remembered the outlandish story he heard from the crazy girl in the insane asylum. A story too ridiculous to be true. Memories of monsters smiling with flesh-covered fangs.
"Eeeeeeeaaaaaagggghhhhh!"
"Almost sounds like it’s laughing at us," Nick mumbled under his breath before catching himself. He turned around to see if Guidry had heard his unfortunate remark, and saw the old man’s face filled with determination and hatred. Nick shuddered and turned away. There was no image of any swamp creature that was as filled with terror and impending doom as the one on the man behind him. He glanced over to see Dennis looking at him from the next boat.
"Qui c’est q ‘ca?" he asked, his voice broken with fear. "What is dat t’ing?"
Chapter Twenty-Three
Hopeless
As the last of that fateful day’s light faded, the crew pulled the battered remains of Frank Guidry, Jr. into the boat and zipped him up in one of the sturdy black body bags. He had been ripped apart by sharp claws and further ravaged by vile insects while submerged in the filthy swamp water. Everyone was grateful that Sheriff Galliano’s office provided the airtight bags. Frank’s remains were getting ripe in the hot and humid environment and toxic for his neighbors in the boat.
Cap’n Guidry ordered the men to anchor down in an open area for the night so that they’d be able to keep a watchful eye out for the return of the beast. It was a miserable situation to be in. There was no shelter from the intermittent rainfall, and the waves kept the boats rocking just enough to prevent any relaxation on the part of the passengers. The men officially took turns keeping watch, although, in truth, none of them were able to rest. The Swamp Rats sat quietly through the night, wet and afraid.
Cap’n Guidry sat in the puddle of putrid water at the bottom of the small boat with Frank, Jr.'s body bag on his lap, his hushed sobbing barely audible to the others. The anguish of losing his only son was almost unbearable and the sense of loss was shared by his friends, many of whom knew the younger Guidry since the child was born. Tears mixed with raindrops on the cheeks of the men in the two boats; fear and hatred tore into their souls.
"Eeeeeaaaaaaggghhhhhh!"
The roar of the beast echoed from a patch of cypress and tupelo trees to the right of the group. The men cast their flashlights in the direction from which the sound had erupted and steadied their firearms, but nothing further was seen or heard. Time wore on, and the crew sat back and listened, watched, and waited.
"Eeeeeeaaaaaaaagggghh!"
This time, the terrifying shriek emanated from their left and seemed further away. Once again, the Swamp Rats shone their lights in the general direction of the beast’s roar and watched and waited. Again, no further disruption ensued.
"Co faire?" asked Dennis. "Why is dat t’ing torturing us?"
"It’s fucking with us, Skinny Mullet," answered Henry. "Fils de pute t’inks we playin’ some kind of game."
"If it’s a game, he’s winnin’," muttered Kirk before spitting a glob of brown saliva over the side of the boat.
"Tuat t’en grosse bueche!" Guidry said, his voice filled with anger. "Dis ain’t no game, and dat t’ing ain’t winnin’ shit. Je vas te passé une calotte, I’m gonna pass a slap at your ass next time I hear you sayin’ any t’ing like dat again."
"He didn’t mean nothin’ by it," said Joe. "We all grieving with you, Cap’n, you know dat. When daylight comes, we gonna bring justice to dat t’ing out dere. I swear by it."
Guidry nodded; nothing else needed to be said. Occasionally throughout the rest of the night, the roar of the beast could be heard. It came from all directions, sometimes close, but mostly from further and further away. By dawn, nothing could be heard but the sounds of the frogs and birds around them. The new day was upon them, and as the light returned and the mist evaporated, the crew set out once again in search of the creature that mercilessly attacked them and mocked them in
their anguish throughout the night.
The Swamp Rats started again where they had left off, following the claw marks on the trees until the markings were no longer visible. After that, they meandered down whatever streams and bayous they came across, stopping from time to time to look for tracks in the wet mud whenever they could. By noon, the crew found themselves back to where they’d began, without a clue as to which direction they came from or in which to proceed.
"Dis be a waste of time," Dennis stated. "We’re no further along den when we started out."
"It’s hopeless," Kenny agreed. "We have no idea of where that t’ing is."
"We ain’t giving up," Cap’n Guidry said. "I don’t care what y’all say. I’ll find dat t’ing if it’s da last t’ing I do."
"It may be, at this rate," Kenny said.
"Don’t you be gettin' smart with me, boy!" Cap’n said.
Nick could see things were falling apart. He knew that the majority of the men were looking to give up and go home, and he couldn’t really blame them. In any event, it appeared that none of them present, save himself, had any intention of looking for the lost search party. Nick was the only one left who’d remembered why they’d come out there in the first place, and the only one left who even cared. Nick knew that, at any moment, the crew was going to split up, and one of the boats was going to hightail it out of the swamp. He had only one card left to play, and he laid it on the table.
"I think I might know where that thing is," said Nick.
"You do?" asked Joe. "Where’s dat?"
"Any of y’all know anything about an old abandoned plantation that’s supposed be out here?"
"Cho! Co!" said Henry. "Now who’s telling old children’s stories?"
"We all heard dem stories since we was kids," Kirk said. "Some old, haunted plantation swallowed up by da swamp dat’s home to da ghosts dat roam da night. I stopped believin’ in dat ‘bout da time I stopped believing in Papa Noel."
"Ain’t no such place, Detective," agreed Joe. "I’ve been running ‘round dese swamps my whole life and ain’t never once come across it. Just ghost stories to scare the young’uns."
"Maybe, maybe not," said Nick. "You’d never seen Bayou Noir until yesterday neither, and never come across a creature like the one that killed Frank, until now."’
"I heard of it, too," Cap’n Guidry said, "and not just from children’s stories. I ain’t never seen it, but I heard it was real. S’posed to be out here somewheres, hidden well where no one can find it."
"It’s real, alright," Dennis said at last. "I seen it."
"Dit mon la verite’, tell da truth!" laughed Joe. "You seen it? Quite da raconteur, eh Skinny Mullet?"
"Pic kee toi!" Dennis spat back. "I been dere. ‘Twas a long time ago. I was just a kid back den, but I ain’t never forgot."
"Coo-wee! What a load of merde’," Henry said.
"Tuat t’en grosse bueche," Cap’n Guidry said sternly. "Let him tell us what he knows already."
"It’s way deep out here," Dennis said. "Not sure exactly if we gonna be able to find it no how. It’s covered by da swamp, just like dat St. Pierre place was. Have to be right up on it to know it’s dere. Anyhow, I was just a kid, like I said. Come out here with my parran, Charlie Broussard, and one of his buddies. Any of y’all know a Louis Couvillon?"
"Didn’t know him, but knew of him," Kirk said. "Some old gator hunter coonass from back in da day."
"I knew him," Guidry said. "Old man, motier foux with missing teeth. He died years ago, I heard. Knew da swamp well, or so dey say. Was podnas with Poppie St. Pierre’s daddy too, if I remember correctly. Dat don’t attest to his character none, d’oh."
"Dat be da one," Dennis said. "Used to be scared of him when I was little, too, but my parran said I was just being a capon. Anyway, come out here once when I was little, and we come across a little island, or so we thought. Covered with cypress and tupelo trees, even a few old oaks, all covered with moss. I remember dey had some old tombstones dat looked like rocks by da water. Place was real spooky; I almost pissed myself. Even my parran and dat old coonass, Couvillon, didn’t want to hang around none. Dey told me not to tell anyone and never been back since. Had nightmares about it for a long time." Dennis thought about it for a few moments, then added, "Dey called it Lost Bayou. Trust me on dis, we don’t wanna go dere."
"How a city boy like you heard about dis place, Detective?" asked Cap’n Guidry. "And why you t’ink we’ll find dat t’ing dere?"
"Same way I knew about the St. Pierres, and the same way I knew that thing came out of that attic back at Bayou Noir," answered Nick. "One of those kids got away and is, or at least was, over at St. Elizabeth’s."
"The nut house?" asked Kenny.
"Unbelievable! Never in my life; mais, jamais d’la vie!" Kirk exclaimed. "You mean we following da footsteps of some peeshwank dat gone bracque?"
"Don’t get all excited, Alleman," Cap’n said. "Crazy or not, dat girl been right ‘bout every t’ing so far. You t’ink dat t’ing hiding over by dat old plantation, Detective?"
"Yeah, I do," said Nick. "We find that plantation; we find that creature, whatever it is."
"Whatever it be, it gonna be dead soon," Cap’n said before announcing to the group, "We goin’ to Lost Bayou."
Chapter Twenty-Four
Two Monsters
The crew meandered through the narrow waterways amongst the overgrown cypress trees for most of the afternoon without a trace of the monster or a sign of the abandoned plantation. When pressed, Dennis would give half-hearted directions that seemed to go nowhere. He tried to tell the Cap’n over and over that he was just a small boy when he saw the island and hadn’t been anywhere near it since, but Guidry wouldn’t give up. As the day wore on, the thought of spending another night in the swamp weighed heavily on the group. Grumblings were beginning to be heard under the breaths of the Swamp Rats.
The boats slowed down as they passed down a quiet bayou, and Nick sensed that a mutiny was about to occur. The other boat started to lag behind a bit, and Cap’n Guidry had to slow down so as not to lose sight of half of his crew. He stopped the boat and waited while Kenny kept an eye on the horizon in front of them and Nick turned to watch the others as they tried to catch up. Suddenly, he heard a scream, and the other boat rocked violently back and forth before capsizing in the shallow water. Cap’n Guidry started the motor back up and turned the boat around, racing to where the others were to aid in their rescue.
Within minutes, they came upon the other boat, but, by this time, the skiff was righted and Henry and Joseph were onboard, pulling Kirk and Dennis back in as quickly as they could.
"Ga-lee! What da hell happened?" asked Cap’n Guidry.
"I don’t know," shouted Henry. "Kirk knocked the boat over!"
Kirk was screaming and writhing in agony and clutching at his right leg.
"Oo ye yi! Goddamned snake!" he screamed.
"Snake?" Kenny asked, "How’d a snake get in the boat?"
The men in the boat scrambled, searching their surroundings for another snake that might be hidden.
No others were in sight, and Henry prematurely announced, "He must’ve fell out in the water when the boat overturned."
"Cho! Co!" shouted Joe. "Dere’s another one!"
A water moccasin slithered out from under one of the crew’s wet pack that was tied to a crossbeam and hissed at the men. Henry grabbed one of the paddles and violently crushed the serpent’s head with a single blow. Seconds later, another emerged from behind the supplies near the front.
"Pic kee moi!" shouted Dennis as he fell backwards to avoid the poisonous creature.
The snake ignored the men and slithered over the side of the boat, disappearing into the murky water. The crew poked and prodded at the remaining packs in a near panic, trying to ferret out any remaining snakes. After a few minutes, they were satisfied that none remained.
"Coo-wee! Y’all be careful. Don’t wanna capsize again," Kenny shouted.
<
br /> "Beck moi tchew!" replied Dennis. "I know we don’t wanna capsize again, couyon!"
"Ca viens?" asked Guidry. "Is Kirk alright?"
Dennis and Joe tended to Kirk, examining his wound and trying to calm him down without much success. Finally, Joe looked up and gravely shook his head.
"Fils de pute! Dis can’t be happenin’," Cap’n Guidry said.
"We gonna have to get him to da doctor," said Joe.
"Ain’t no doctor around here," Kenny stated.
"Don’t matter; we gotta try," answered Joe. "He’s not gonna make it if we don’t."
"Guess we better head in den," said Dennis.
"Co faire?" said Cap’n Guidry. "Why? I ain’t goin’ ‘till I find dat t’ing dat killed my boy. Some of y’all take dat boat and do da best you can, but we goin’ on. Dennis, you comin’ wid us."
"Like hell I am," Dennis said. "I had enough. If you wanna die so bad, you do it alone. I’m goin’ home."
"No, you ain’t," Guidry said, lowering his shotgun and aiming it dead center at the man’s chest. "You da only one here dat seen dat plantation, and we need you to find it. You comin’ wid us, or I’ll send you to hell right now."
Henry and Joe aimed their guns back at the obstinate old man. The tension rose quickly; no one said a word except for Kirk, who was cursing under his breath and moaning in agony.
"Let’s just hold on a second, gentlemen," Nick calmly stated. "Looks like we have a Mexican standoff here. We need to be reasonable and work together, or none of us will be leaving this swamp alive. Do I need to remind any of you we have more bags that need filling?"
The Swamp Rats tried to ignore him, but they also knew they weren’t getting anywhere the way things were going.
Billy: A Tale Of Unrelenting Terror Page 12
