Box Set: Scary Stories- Vols. 3 & 4 (Chamber Of Horror Book 8)

by Billy Wells

  “I guess you've never been to Newport.”

  “Newport?”

  “Yeah. It's in Rhode Island. You can tour the summer homes of a bunch of rich dudes like the Vanderbilts that were built in the late 1800’s. There are some enormous mansions there that would make these rat traps look small.”

  “Hey, Dave. We really should find another place to fish. This gate and the wall around the whole area means these people are serious about their privacy. The sign alone with the brick and glass enclosure must have cost a couple of grand to construct. I’ll bet if someone catches us inside the gate, there’ll be hell to pay.”

  “Probably some rich lawyer came up with that “serious consequences” bullshit. Look. I’ve lived in this county for years, and I can guarantee no one lives in this community in December. It's too cold. They're just trying to scare us with this sign.”

  Henry kicked at some expensive stones in front of the gate, and asked, “Have you ever come here to fish before?”

  “No, I never did, but I don't know anything about fishing. I've never done it. You're the one who likes to fish. That's why I brought you here. This is a great place. You should see it in the summer. There are boats all over this lake. Every stretch of sand has a beautiful babe in a skimpy bikini. These guys like to party 24/7.”

  “Have you taken a look in the mirror lately, Dave? We don’t fit in with this crowd.”

  “You’re right. We’d stick out like a gorilla in a nudist colony. I wouldn’t think of trespassing then. We’d probably get our asses chewed up by a pack of Dobermans.”

  “I think we should call it a bad idea and leave. I’ve never even trespassed on some shit kicker’s property at the trailer park before. That sign worries me.”

  “Don't worry. Be happy. I'll take the responsibility.”

  “So, if someone comes along, you’ll talk to them.”

  “I’m not the least bit worried. Of course, I’ll tell them to go fuck themselves. What can they do to us anyway, but ask us to leave. Relax.”

  After another five minutes of coaxing, Henry relented like he always did to Dave’s flamboyant ideas. So far, none of Dave’s insanity had killed him.

  They found a tree that allowed them to scale the wall, and Henry handed their fishing poles and gear down to Dave, who puffed on a weed, looking like he owned the entire complex. They gathered their stuff and headed toward the entrance to the main dock. They saw another sign on a post that read: ABSOLUTELY NO FISHING.

  “Hey, man,” Henry said nervously. “There it is again. Absolutely no fishing.”

  Dave decided to lay it on the line. “Henry, without wheels this is the only place around here to fish without walking twenty miles to the other side of the lake. Do you feel like walking forty miles today?”

  “No. I don't want to walk forty miles, but I don't want to get arrested or pay a big fine either. I don't need to fish that badly. Why don't we forget it and go to the movies?”

  “No way,” Dave barked. “I didn't shell out the coin for this rod and reel to let it sit in the closet for the rest of my life. And, I don’t have enough money left for a movie, some popcorn, and a big drink. No one is here to bother us, I tell you. Stop worrying.”

  Henry looked in all directions again, and just as before, he didn’t see anyone in sight. “Well, okay. I give up. I hope you know what you’re doing.”

  “I do, worrywart. Come on.”

  They started walking down the long dock with piers leading off to the left and right about halfway down.

  “Let's go to the very end,” Dave said. “The water is a lot deeper there. I hear the fish are bigger the further away from shore you go.”

  “Cool,” Henry replied, shaking his head as he finally took notice of the true expanse of the community dock. “It must have cost a fortune to build this. Look how many pilings there are. There are beaches on the Jersey shore that don’t have a dock with piers this big.”

  “Regis Manchester has a lot of moolah. He’s into all kinds of businesses, straight and crooked, I hear. Like I said, these are just the summer homes of the old man, his children, and their wives. This cove is named after him. Did you see the big sign out on the road?”

  “You mean this is Manchester Cove?”

  “The one and only.”

  “And all these houses belong to his family and grandchildren?”

  “That’s what I understand.” Dave pointed to several spots around the dock. “That’s the main house, and each one of those monster homes belongs to one of his children.”

  “Goddamn. It’s obscene to be so rich,” Henry bellowed.

  “When I was in Amway, they used to say, if you cut a pie of all the good things in life into five equal pieces, four pieces would go to the Manchesters, and one piece would go to all the poor dirt bags in this county like us.”

  “What a crock of shit? Life is so unfair.”

  “The rich get richer, and the poor get poorer. It’s been that way since time and memorial.”

  “What does time and memorial mean?” Henry asked, rolling the phrase over on his tongue.

  “Hell if I know. I guess it means a long, fucking time.”

  As they approached the end of the dock, they saw a large yacht moored at the edge of a pier jutting off to the right.

  “Someone must be around,” Henry said, inspecting the fifty-foot monstrosity. “The owner of this expensive yacht wouldn't leave a boat like this here all winter unattended, would he?”

  “It does seem odd. Let's take a look.”

  “What!” Henry shouted. “Are you crazy?”

  Dave climbed the ladder, boarded the boat, and started looking around like he owned the vessel. Henry reluctantly followed.

  When they entered the main cabin, they saw an old photograph of four people on the wall. Next to it, they saw a line of newer family pictures going across the wall to the other side of the cabin.

  “Wow. That's a strange looking group,” Henry remarked, looking at the old photo of a husband and wife and two children, a boy and a girl about ten years old.

  “Hey. It doesn't take looks to be rich, it takes money,” Dave philosophized, blowing a big gob of spit on the floor.

  “I know, but who would crawl into the sack with that ugly bitch. Look at the lips on her. She reminds me of a fish out of water. In fact, I’d think she was a fish if she replaced that gold ring in her lip with a fish hook.”

  “Cut her some slack, Bro. Regis probably likes big lips like that. They probably can work magic between his legs on a warm summer night at the spa with a glass of champagne. Did you get a good look at her old man? I think he has bigger lips that she does.”

  “Yeah, I agree. He didn't win any beauty contests, but my god; this woman must weigh over five hundred pounds. She looks more like a linebacker for the Chicago Bears. Can you imagine her as a bride with a long flowing gown? I think she has a better mustache than Regis.”

  “Her family probably had a lot of money, and he overlooked her shortcomings.”

  “But the two children look like they belong in a zoo. Look at the lips on the oldest one. Oooh, gross.”

  “What do you expect the offspring of two ogres to look like? It’s all in the genes, Henry.”

  “Look at these newer pictures. Some of these poses look a little more professional than the earlier pictures. This new breed looks a lot smaller in stature than their ancestors.”

  “Believe me, Dave, there are things swimming in the tank over at Sea World that I would rather get in the sack with than these miserable, misshapen hulks of fat and cellulite.”

  “You know what they say. Beauty is only skin deep. Ugly is to the bone.”

  “Christ, these retards must have been humiliated and bullied every day of their lives when they went to school.”

  “I doubt it. They probably had private tutors. Money has its privileges.”

  They left the main cabin and started exploring more of the lower deck. When they opened the door to another
cabin, they noticed an unpleasant fishy smell emanating from within.

  ”What’s that awful smell?” Henry asked, holding his nose. “It reminds me of the fish market they have in town on weekends in the summer, but this smells ten times worse. They have some pretty ugly seafood down there, and sometimes it smells so bad you wonder who could eat that shit.”

  “Let's get out of here before I barf,” Dave choked.

  When they stepped back on the pier, Henry said, “Dave, I hate to mention this, but I think I'm going to have to take a crap. The corned beef hash I had for breakfast didn't hit me right. Did you happen to see a rest room anywhere around here?”

  “Why don't you use the facilities in the yacht? While you’re pitching a loaf, I’ll see if the fish are biting.”

  “On the yacht?”

  “Why not? The smell can't be any worse than what's already there.”

  Henry pondered his suggestion and considering the alternatives, he decided Dave was right and went back into the main cabin.

  Dave exited the boat and headed toward the end of the pier. In the distance, he saw a large fishing boat with several men dumping something from white containers into the lake. Whatever it was they were dumping was moving when it hit the water until the men clobbered it with their long heavy sticks. He hesitated to stare for fear it would cause trouble because one of the men was watching him through a pair of binoculars. Suddenly, the man shielded his eyes from the sun and waved. The other three men also looked in his direction and started waving, too.

  Dave was mystified by such a welcoming response and returned their waves with one of his own. He assumed the men must have thought he was one of the Manchesters, which made no sense, since it was the middle of December and all the Manchesters were probably sipping Sherry in Palm Springs with the Vanderbilts. He couldn’t wait to tell Henry about the welcome he’d received from the friendly men on the fishing boat.

  He sat down and removed a jar of worms he’d bought at the convenience store from his duffle bag. He made a sour face and placed one of the creepy crawlies on the hook of his rod and reel. He wiped his finger on his jeans and felt like throwing up, but he shrugged it off and cast the line into the water. He continued to see the men dumping more pails of something into the water, and then, he looked and they had sped off in the opposite direction.

  After a time, Dave wondered what was keeping Henry in the can so long. From the corner of his eye, he saw movement below next to a piling. He wasn't worried about his legs dangling only three feet from the surface of the water, but the great white shark in Jaws did cross his mind. He'd heard there were big fish in this lake, but nothing he thought would be dangerous to humans. Moments later, he saw something flit by to the right and craned his neck lower to get a better look.

  Henry had been delayed when he had to search for something to use for toilet paper. After he solved that problem, he didn't understand how to flush the gold-plated toilet. He finally found a button on the wall that did the job rather than a handle on the toilet like poor people like him would be expecting.

  Finally, Henry left the cabin and bounded back onto the dock. Dave was right. His shit didn’t smell nearly as bad as the fishy stench already inside the cabin.

  He looked for Dave, but he was nowhere in sight. As he approached the end of the pier, he saw his friend’s gear, but he didn't see him.

  “Dave!” he called out, looking down at the expanse of the piers jutting in several directions, but he didn't receive an answer even after three tries.

  “Dave, where are you?” he continued to shout. Still, there was no answer.

  Henry walked to where Dave’s gear rested on the deck. He saw the butt of a cigarette still smoldering on the edge of the dock and smiled.

  Dave couldn't have gone far. His cigarette was still burning an ugly black hole in the dock.

  Henry noticed some debris floating in the water that had a reddish tint. Then, a bloody torso with one arm, one leg, and half of Dave’s’ skull surfaced and started bobbing up and down in the water like a human buoy.

  Then, in the flash of an eye, Henry saw the hideous face of something resembling a lamprey with human facial features erupting from the cold, murky depths like a bat with its ass on fire.

  He knew he should’ve flung himself backwards to avoid the savage jaws of the piranha-like teeth, but he was paralyzed with shock and wonder. The fish ghoul had the lips and the face of the eldest child in the old picture he'd seen on the wall in the cabin. But this time rather than the pursed, bloated lips sucking for air, he saw a mouthful of teeth as big as a frying pan suck his head into its mouth. He thrashed back and forth for a moment as the jaws sunk deeper into his temples, and one eye exploded from the pressure. Then the weight of the ravenous bloodsucker carried him down into a swirling maelstrom of frenzied feasting.

  Henry felt the pain of a thousand bites ripping and tearing his flesh into shreds of human chum. The smaller Manchesters circled the bloody water, waiting for their turn.

  NEVERMORE

  Careful planning made Roland Barnes a billionaire.

  Years before the zombie apocalypse had shifted into high gear, he’d bought an island in the Pacific, just in case.

  He hired a construction company to build a magnificent home for his family surrounded by a moat stocked with piranhas. Despite its enormous size, the heavy terrain of the island camouflaged the mansion in case a ship with human marauders or rampaging zombies stumbled upon it. Even from the air, the roof looked like part of the dense jungle.

  Roland had stocked his home with enough food and supplies to last three lifetimes. Before all the corporations failed, and the federal government collapsed, he also stocked his library with every video game and DVD that existed at the time.

  Even after acquiring every entertainment product available, in a few years, Roland and his wife, Lucille, and their two children, Dean and Kelly, grew bored. With nothing other than the same media pastimes to occupy their minds, they adopted the lifestyle of the 1950s.

  The family entertained each other by playing games they made up. They ate all their meals together and were as happy as they could be, under the circumstances.

  Despite his great wealth, Roland worried that if one of them got sick or injured themselves during the course of their daily activities, he would be helpless to save them. Consequently, he continually reminded them to be extremely careful not to fall or cut themselves carelessly since it could be fatal.

  Contact with the outside world ended completely not long after they had taken up residence on the island. The absence of TV when they first arrived was a devastating change for all of them, particularly Dean and Kelly, who were nine and eleven years old then. That gradually changed, and now TV didn't seem as important. At least, that's what they told themselves. Why obsess over something you could do nothing about. It was doubtful there would ever be TV programs again.

  Without a miracle, life, as they'd known it, would never be the same again. Even if some scientist did find the cure for the disease that turned the dead into zombies seeking human flesh, how could they distribute it to the survivors? Every government worldwide had collapsed. It was a dog eat dog world now. Every man for himself. Survival of the fittest. Take whatever you can get. Kill or be killed.

  Roland and his family had gotten out of the chaos just in time. They knew they could be the only ones on the planet who did not have to deal with the constant threat of unruly mobs and ravenous zombies.

  * * *

  Five years passed, and boredom increased. Roland was relieved no one had gotten sick or had a medical emergency. Also, no one needed to take prescription drugs except Kelly, who had a hormonal malady. Even before she came to the island, her gynecologist had prescribed birth control pills to provide relief for acne, water retention, and breast tenderness. Her friends chided her about being a nymphomaniac when one of them discovered the pills in her purse at an early age. Now, they were all dead, and probably zombies.

  * *
*

  One summer day, Lucille discovered Roland in the game room. “Can you think of anything exciting we can do this afternoon to pass the time?” she asked, sipping a cold bottle of Perrier.

  “Anything your heart desires, Darling. I’m easy,” Roland mused, rereading The Da Vinci Code for the fifth time.”

  “Should we have sex on the veranda or on the picnic table in the park? You know what they say. Variety is the spice of life.”

  “We can't do it outside. Dean and Kelly might see us…. But on second thought, I’ve never been an advocate of incest, but the way the world is now, it actually could have become politically correct in certain situations, and this would certainly be one of them.”

  “Are you serious?” Lucille said, finding the suggestion disgusting.

  “I know it sounds bizarre, but should Dean be a monk all his life, and Kelly, a nun? Why should our precious children practice abstinence and not enjoy sexual gratification with the opposite sex. Maybe they can find pleasure pleasuring themselves.”

  “As long as you’re not suggesting we have sex with them. I guess you’ve probably noticed Kelly has grown a nice set of boobs since she rarely wears a bra.”

  Roland rolled his eyes at this remark and snapped, “How could you say such a thing to me?”

  “Sorry, that was a cheap shot,” she said sadly, “I’m just depressed over having nothing to do.”

  “It’s not my fault. I’ve done all I can to make things as livable as possible.”

  “I know, but I keep praying things will somehow return to normal. But you really don't think anything will ever change, do you?” Lucille said coldly. “You believe we're never going to see another human being. We're going to live and die right here. End of story.”

  “I can't see any other scenario, Lucille. Do you?”

  “What if by some miracle, the rest of the world is restored, and we never find out, and we fritter our lives away on this desolate rock.”

  “Lucille, I don't call this enchanted paradise a desolate rock. Keep in mind, this fabulous mansion we have here surpasses anything we ever had in Palm Beach.”