Nick let them stew for a few minutes before continuing, "It’s clear that one of the boats needs to get Kirk back to civilization as soon as possible. It’s also clear that one of the boats is going after the beast. I’m staying with Cap’n, and Kirk is going back. It’s time for the rest of y’all to decide what y’all are going to do."
"I’m going back with Kirk," said Henry.
"So am I," said Dennis.
"No, you ain’t," Guidry said.
"Yes, I am," Dennis said, "and I’d advise da rest of you to do da same. Ta hell with dis old fool."
"You pushing me, capon," Guidry said.
"Hold on dere, now," said Joe. "You two need to calm da fuck down. Dennis, da man is right. You need to go with dem. You said yourself you been to dat place, and you da only one dat can help dem find it. If you didn’t wanna go, you should’ve kept your mouth shut. Time to man up and do what’s right. Do it for Frank; do it for Kirk."
"Kirk?" said Dennis. "He got snake bit. Ain’t got nothin’ to do with dat t’ing out dere."
"No?" asked Joe. "And just how you think all dem moccasins got in da boat? Don’t you find dat just a tiny bit odd?"
"What you mean?" Dennis asked.
"Yeah, what you going on about, Batiste?" asked Henry.
"Dem snakes didn’t jump in da boat. We all know dat can’t happen," said Joe. "No, dey got t’rown in dere by some t’ing hidin’ in one of dose trees over dere."
The men looked back toward the tree limbs hanging over the bayou behind them. Nothing could be seen, though the very real possibility that something was lurking behind the thick cover of leaves and moss made them shudder.
"And just who do you t’ink would’ve done dat?" continued Joe. "Our little friend, dat’s who. Now, we gonna split up. Half gonna go one way, half another. Fifty-fifty which boat dat t’ing comes after. Guns or not, my money’s on dat t’ing at this point. Dennis, you no safer in one boat den da other. In da end, you gotta make a choice; you gotta make da right choice. You know what I’m telling you, LeFleur?"
Dennis remained silent. He could see what the man was getting at, but didn’t like it all the same.
"You do what’s right for Frank," Nick said. "What’s right for Kirk. Mostly, you do what’s right for you. True, you go back, you just might make it. Might. But then what? You have to live with your decision every day after that. You remember that family back at Bayou Noir? Think about why they didn’t go up in that attic. Fear. Fear and shame. Think about why that thing was up there in the first place. Fear and shame. You get back home, maybe you’ll no longer be afraid, but the shame will cling to you forever. You want that, LeFleur? You think you can live like that? The choice is yours. Cap’n, put down that shotgun. Joseph, you, too. It’s time for the man to make his own decision, like a man should. It’s time we all respected that decision, like men should. It’s time we stopped acting like a bunch of whining children and got back to the business at hand. Y’all be quick about it, or Kirk’s a goner. Same for the rest of us."
Silence enveloped the group as the men looked inward and thought about the words the detective had spoken. The college boy laid it all out, the real monsters were lurking inside of each of them, fear and shame. Guidry dropped the shotgun to his side and sat back down, staring at the bag at his feet that held his only child. Henry positioned himself next to the motor on the second boat, preparing to cast off in the hopes that they could reach help in enough time to save Kirk’s life. Joseph Batiste put his rifle down and sat at Kirk’s side, cradling the dying man’s head gently in his lap. Kenny took up position at the helm of Guidry’s boat, waiting to return to the search. Lastly, Dennis dropped his rifle, reached down for his pack and threw it in the boat with the Cap’n, Nick, and Kenny. Nick holstered his weapon, reached out and grabbed Dennis’s arm and helped him over.
"Welcome aboard, Dennis LeFleur," Nick said.
"Y’all get settled in," Cap’n Guidry said as he fired the engine up and the propeller came to life. "Next stop, Lost Bayou Plantation."
Chapter Twenty-Five
Freesons
Henry Trahan started the motor of the small boat and headed back toward civilization. He carefully avoided the overgrown branches overhead when they passed the spot where the snakes had appeared, and then increased their speed until they were cruising as fast as safely possible down the narrow waterways. Joseph sat up front, keeping his watchful eyes on the path ahead for any impediments or signs of the beast. Kirk was mostly silent now, his once-tan complexion now a ghostly white as he mumbled incoherently and foamed at the mouth while gazing a thousand yards into the unknown.
Joe turned around to look at the poor man and then glanced at Henry. No words needed to be spoken; both men understood that Kirk Alleman was going to die. Henry turned the throttle until the boat was going at maximum speed, and Joseph turned back around to help guide them safely past the overgrown swamp grass and moss-covered cypress trees up ahead.
The way out of the swamp wasn’t easy. The small bayous they travelled down twisted and turned, and their way was frequently blocked by hyacinths or downed trees. Sometimes, the waterways would just stop, running into a patch of soggy mud or beaver damns. On more than one occasion, they had to backtrack and seek alternative ways to get out of the swamp. Time was running out for Kirk, and as the afternoon wore on, the specter of spending another night in the darkness of the Atchafalaya seemed inevitable.
"I t’ink we been dis way before," Joe said, "maybe even twice already; hard to tell. To be honest, I’m not sure if we goin’ da right way or not."
"I know," Henry said, "but I t’ink I got it now. The way we come out here was blocked and when we bypassed the lilies, we got turned around. This time I’m sure I know how to go. I ain’t stayin’ out here past dark this time, at least not this far out here. Gonna try to get us closer in ‘fore night comes. Hopefully give us some distance from that t’ing out there."
"By all means," said Joe. "I ain’t gonna argue with dat."
By early evening, Kirk’s breathing became labored, and he looked to be having intermittent seizures as his body fought hard against the toxic venom coursing through his veins. At last, Henry felt that he knew where they were, and he drove the boat as fast as he could down a narrow river, trying to get to a patch of open water he believed to be ahead of them before night fell.
"Ga-lee!" shouted Joseph. "You need to slow down. Dere’s trees everywhere, and worse yet, dere’s a gator pond just up ahead. We don’t wanna hit one of dem branches and fall in da water ‘round here, not when we already come dis far."
Henry ignored the man. He thought he now knew where they were and where they were going. He knew Batiste was right; there was an infamous gator hole they were coming up on, and anyone who fell in the water was going to be dinner for the hungry reptiles. The gators were already well on their way to waking up and preparing for their nocturnal hunt for food. He didn’t want to be stuck out there past sundown, even on the boat.
Joe could see the open area up ahead just beyond a patch of ground overgrown with bushes and moss-covered trees. One more swift turn to the right and they were home free. Henry stood up in the back, one hand clutching the rudder, the wind in his face. He began to smile at the welcome sight up ahead and turned the throttle even more in anticipation of escaping the dense confines of the swampland behind them. His face beamed with relief as they skirted past the oak and cypress trees and hungry alligators at the final turn and on toward the open water up ahead.
Henry’s eyes spotted an unexpected movement from the bark on the tree to his right, but before he could react in time, a sharp, metal hook swung around and caught him in the eye socket, jamming into his skull and turning his brain into mush. A steel cable was attached to one end of the hook and the other end was fastened around one of the cypress knots jutting up all around them. As the boat sped forward, Henry’s body was brutally yanked into the murky water in an instant.
The sudden jerk caused Joe to sq
ueeze off a useless round from his hunting rifle as the boat spun wildly. Within seconds, the vessel capsized, making Joe drop his firearm and spilling Joe and Kirk into the drink. Alligators appeared all around them, drawn to the helpless prey thrashing about within the grasp of their sharp teeth and powerful jaws. Three of the larger beasts tore violently at Henry’s body, tearing off limbs and globs of bloody flesh in the process. Several others ascended on what was left of Kirk Alleman’s weakened remains, fighting amongst themselves for the right to devoir the poor victim.
Joseph Batiste felt a sharp pain in his right foot and was suddenly jerked under the surface of the shallow water. His body began to spin violently, and his breath was knocked out by the sudden jolt, putrid swamp water filling his lungs. He instinctively panicked and yanked his mangled foot free of the hungry reptile’s mouth, pushing to the surface and onto the mound of dirt nearby. Miraculously, he scrambled up a tree just in time to escape the ferocious beasts below.
Joseph held on to the branches tightly, spitting out the nasty water and trying to catch his breath. His heart was pounding, and he shivered in the damp air as he gazed down at the horrendous sight below. Dozens of hungry alligators tore at what was left of his friends, and occasionally fighting amongst themselves for the tasty morsels. Three or four of the hardy creatures that were left out of the feeding frenzy snapped at the foot of the tree, their soulless eyes looking directly into his, waiting for him to drop and fill their stomachs.
Joe began to cry. Oo ye yi, he thought, what am I going to do? The boat was lost and their guns with it. There he was, all alone and defenseless, hiding in a tree surrounded by angry gators that had nothing to do but wait for their next meal to tire and fall. He looked down again and saw that the reptiles at his feet were quiet. They just stared up at him, but were no longer making a sound. The hair on Joe’s neck stood up, and he felt his heart drop into the pit of his stomach. There was something behind him in the tree.
Batiste turned around and saw the beast for the first time. The creature was almost as big as he was, with two red, beady eyes that stared straight into his, burning fear into his heart. It had a nose like a man’s and was covered with dirt, moss, and bark that made it almost invisible to the naked eye against the backdrop of the dense vegetation. The thing had two arms that ended in sharp claw-like hands, two legs that were froglike, though sporting powerful muscles and webbed feet with sharp nails. Its hands and feet appeared too big, each seeming to have extra appendages not seen on any natural creature.
Joe looked at the thing in fear and disgust. He stared into the face of the beast and froze in horror. The thing was smiling at him, smiling at him with big, sharp teeth while a foul odor emanated out of the freakishly large mouth that encompassed the entire lower half of the monster’s head. To Joseph’s horror, he could see that the thing wasn’t a thing at all, it was a boy.
"Eeeeeeeeaaaaaaagggggghhhhh!" it roared in triumph.
The sudden howl took Joe by surprise and his wet fingers slipped off of the damp tree limbs, sending him barreling backwards to the ground below. His body hit the thick mud and roots with a painful thud and knocked the wind out of his lungs. Before he could move, the gators were upon him. He shrieked in agony as the reptiles tore into his flesh and bones, spilling his organs into the rotting vegetation to be devoured by birds and insects once the larger predators were through.
The last thing Joseph Batiste saw before his eyes closed for good was the sight of a sad, deformed boy staring down at him from the safety of a cypress tree, laughing with malevolent delight.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Lost Bayou
After the group split up, Cap’n Guidry got back to the task at hand. He guided what was left of the crew further into the swamp. Sometimes, he would ask Dennis if he recognized anything, which the man would deny more often than not, and other times he proceeded based upon whatever gut-feelings he had. None of the others argued, since Guidry’s knowledge of the swamp and ability to track its nefarious inhabitants were well known. As the afternoon progressed, it seemed to Nick that they were lost, though he kept the unpleasant thought to himself.
"Coo-wee!" said Guidry. "Look at dat."
They drifted up to a small patch of dry land covered with high grass and weeds and looked to where Cap’n was pointing. Barely visible in the soft earth were footprints, six toes on each. Nick was amazed that the old man saw them in the first place, and he was grateful that they were being led by such a capable guide.
"It looks like he been here recently," stated Guidry, "and looks like he was headed down dere."
Cap’n nodded toward a narrow bayou that ran through a heavily-wooded section of the swamp. The crew sat back and steadied their guns, half expecting the monster to jump out at them at any moment. Guidry slowly guided the boat down the dark bayou, hoping they would reach their destination before night fell and the ever-threatening thunderclouds overhead came to life.
"Dis looks familiar," said Dennis, his voice noticeably shaken by the revelation. "I t’ink we gettin’ close."
The men were silent, watching and listening intently for any sign of the beast. To the relief of everyone, nothing out of place was in sight, and the loud singing of birds and croaking of frogs serenaded them. The crew came to realize that the swamp seemed to get quiet when the creature was lurking around, so any sounds produced by the indigenous wildlife was a welcomed sign.
"Look over there," said Kenny, pointing up ahead. "There’s some more of those markings on the trees."
"Dat t’ing’s been here, alright," said Guidry. "We on its trail."
As much as the terrible beast struck fear into the group, the men were grateful that they were able to track it. For one thing, it meant that they were not lost, but actively engaged in hunting the animal. It also gave the crew a psychological boost; they were in control. There were four of them, all heavily armed. Sure, the mysterious creature was dangerous, but so were they. Up to now, the monster had them chasing their tales. Now, they were on its heels.
"It can run, but it can’t hide," said Cap’n. "We gonna find it and we gonna kill it. Its days are numbered. It’s gonna pay for killin’ my boy."
"I t’ink we almost dere," said Dennis. "I’m sure of it. Dis place giving me da freesons. I remember it from my nightmares."
"You gonna remember it again, Skinny Mullet," said Guidry. "Only dis time, you gonna remember it with pride."
"Look, there’s some rocks," Kenny said, pointing to some grey stone outcroppings on an island up ahead.
The sun was almost down by the time they drifted up to the island. The dark clouds and moss-covered trees made it almost pitch black, even in the twilight hours, but they made it before nightfall all the same. The crew retrieved their flashlights, and Kenny tied the boat to one of the nearby rocks.
"Cho! Co! There’s a name on this one," Kenny said. "Colette Deslautier. I can’t make out the rest. These rocks are tombstones; we’re in a graveyard."
"Dit mon la verite’," whispered Dennis. "Dis be da place."
Once the boat was secured, the crew slowly scanned the horizon, looking for any sign of the beast. It began to drizzle, so the men unpacked a few needed items and headed for the relative shelter of some nearby oak trees. Once under the giant canopy of moss-covered limbs, Kenny and Nick began to make a small fire while Guidry and Dennis kept a watchful eye.
"T’ink it’s a good idea to start a fire?" asked Dennis. "It’ll lead dat t’ing straight to us."
"Dat t’ing already going to find us here, couyon," Cap’n Guidry answered. "I doubt da fire gonna make much difference. Besides, we need to dry up a bit and get some warmth. Dese batteries ain’t gonna keep dese lights running all night. Dis way, we can save dem for when we need dem da most."
The crew sat around the fire, quietly listening to the sounds of the swamp while enjoying what little warmth the small flame provided. It was almost night time when they heard the distant sound of a gunshot.
"Hear t
hat?" Kenny asked. "You think that was from the others?"
"Most likely," Nick answered. "I doubt if anyone else is this far out here, especially at sundown."
The men nodded in agreement. They knew that the stories of the monster kept all but the hardiest of fishermen and hunters out of the area, and even those weren’t about to come this far into the swamp in the dark. The Swamp Rats were on their own to the bitter end.
"You t’ink dey got it?" Dennis asked.
A few moments passed before they heard the unwelcome roar of the beast echo through the trees. The men’s hearts sank with the realization that their friends had run into the monster, and the monster had prevailed. If the creature was still alive, they all knew that chances were the other men weren’t.
"Fils de pute!" Cap’n Guidry spat. "I swear I’m gonna rip dat t’ing to pieces when I get my hands on it."
"It sounded like it was far off," said Kenny. "Maybe we’ll be safe through the night."
"Maybe," said Dennis, "but I ain’t countin’ on it. Dat t’ing ain’t natural. it’s some kind of demon. It’ll be here ‘fore long, and it’s coming for blood."
"Tuat t’en grosse bueche, Skinny Mullet!" said Cap’n. "It’s comin’ alright, but it ain’t no demon. Dat t’ing’s flesh and blood, same as us. Da only blood gonna be shed is dat t’ing’s blood."
Cap’n Guidry glanced toward the boat where his only son’s body lay lifeless in a zippered black bag. He cradled the shotgun in his hands before he continued, "Let it come; we waitin’ on it."
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Make the Misere’
Before long, night descended on the Swamp Rats. They took turns surveying the area, always going out two at a time and never traveling out of sight of the small fire that they’d built. Nick sat next to Cap’n Guidry, looking at the trees that surrounded them. He could see that the dark limbs of the massive oaks and the dense vegetation of the swamp were covering an even more ancient structure underneath. Nick remembered the words Margaret had spoken while under her trance, and he knew exactly what lay hidden in the dark.
Billy: A Tale Of Unrelenting Terror Page 13
