by Nick Younker
They feasted with such ravenous voracity that they expelled their wastes on the spot. Their digestive tracts had adopted a cycling mechanism that allowed them to maintain a constant flow of nourishment.
Seventy-nine people lost their lives on the streets of Fogstow that evening before the party was interrupted by outside forces. The district of Alcatraz Beach was left mostly untouched.
***
3
Sheriff Marvin Kramer had tried to come into Fogstow through Derbie on Highway 66, but had found that the road had vanished from sight. He had called back into dispatch to have a Coast Guard boat meet him at the dock in Derbie and parked his cruiser at the Reservation with Carolyn. Then he’d called in support from the surrounding counties.
He registered a response from across the river in Loudon, Kentucky. Sheriff Harry Barnes said he was coming in with some deputies and his own locals, including Pete Little and the Broshears fella who’d played minor league ball in Macon, Georgia under the Atlanta Braves back in the ’80s. They had been known around those parts to be a great asset to the local Red Cross efforts when the tornadoes swept through southwestern Indiana.
They all docked in Derbie and when the Coast Guard arrived, they took Sheriff Kramer into Fogstow with Barnes, Little and Broshears to get a read on the situation.
The duty officer navigated the boat into the Fogstow channel and the eerie scene was disconcerting to Kramer. Thick fog danced on the high bluff walls and floated across the surface of the water. The day was considerably darker after the cave-in and they all second-guessed the mission due to the creep factor alone. Once they reached the docks, it got even worse. There was no one in sight and the fog lifted only in the area that would allow them to dock and enter the town.
The duty officer slowly approached the dock and as he did, the water parted, revealing to Marvin Kramer the single most terrifying thing of his life.
The murky depths of the channel let loose the fruit of the River’s loins. Bodies started surfacing from the dark water. Not one, but ten, twenty, maybe thirty bodies bubbled up from below and floated on the surface.
Kramer gasped as he held his heart and rubbed a hand through his hair. Barnes and Broshears had slowly pulled their service weapons from their holsters and quietly held them as they looked around for the ominous presence that undoubtedly had been responsible for this atrocity.
But the bodies did not come from Fogstow.
(The river will not kill people, but it will hide your bodies.)
The channel had brought these bodies in from the river, and instead of floating them for the Creepers, they floated them for men who had come there to save lives. The men who’d come to lend a hand to people in need. The channel floated these bodies to warn them of what it was capable of. It gave them a reason to leave the place alone. The town belonged to the river now. It belonged to the river and its Creepers.
* * *
Barnes and Broshears quickly raised their service weapons at the sight of three men running down the concrete steps that once served the town’s thriving docks. They showed no sign of slowing down once they reached the dock, and Kramer lowered Barnes’s and Broshears’s arms with assurance once he saw who they were.
Linton Derr, Jeff Stark and the county fire inspector approached the boat, clearly in distress. Once they were dockside, instead of boarding, they just slumped over on their knees and stared at the ground while they caught their breath. The fog had already covered up the bodies in the water.
Kramer put a hand on Linton’s back while he stood with one foot on the dock and the other in the boat.
“Linton? Tell me buddy. What’s happened here?” Kramer asked.
Linton regained his breath and leaned up to speak.
“They’re all dead, Marv. Everyone is dead,” Linton said.
“What do you mean? Did the sinkhole get everyone?”
“No, Marvin. You don’t understand. They are all dead. As in, murdered.”
“What?”
“Stark and I. We walked back up through the Jeffries plateau and circled around the lower bluffs behind the Beach. We came in through Squaw Creek and we found them, Marvin. It wasn’t just some of them. The sinkhole only got the TC. It was someone, or something else that got the rest. They’re all over the streets of Fogstow right now. Torn to pieces.”
Kramer had a look on his face that almost seemed like he had tasted something disgusting and sour. He took his hand off Linton’s back and stepped his one foot back on the boat. He turned to face the bluffs and noticed all the fog had strayed away from them and was floating over the channel, covering the floating bodies. As if it had just reminded him there were bodies floating in that channel, all around them. He looked back at Linton and Stark.
“Are you sure it’s everyone?”
Linton nodded his head.
“All dead?” Kramer asked.
“Sheriff,” Stark said, “Fogstow is gone. It’s all over here.”
“How would you like for us to proceed, Sheriff?” the duty officer asked him.
Kramer raised his hat and ran his hands through his hair for a moment, trying to absorb everything before he answered.
“Let’s get these men back to Derbie,” Kramer said. “They’ve been through hell today. We need to give the state boys a call and see what kind of help we can get down here.”
“Would you like us to make any inquiries on your behalf, Sheriff?” the duty officer responded.
“I suppose it couldn’t hurt. But for now, we need to get through to the governor’s office and have them declare a state of emergency. I got a feeling we are going to need some federal dollars for this shit storm.”
“Copy that, Sheriff,” the duty officer replied. “Gentlemen, please climb aboard our vessel and we will get you back to Derbie.”
“Wait! Wait!” voices from behind the Stow yelled at them. Barnes and Broshears pointed their sidearms.
Jack and Derri Emmons came running toward them, and Linton motioned for the men to lower their weapons. They both approached and didn’t need to say a word.
Linton and Stark boarded and turned to help Jack and Derri onto the vessel. They slowly departed Fogstow through the channel. The fog parted for them to pass, and then repaired itself once they were through. When they were outside of the channel, they met boats clearing out from the Beach as well. Linton counted thirteen as they made their way into the currents of the Ohio.
He was relieved. We’re not the only ones who want out of this place. Thank God the Beach was cut off from the main district. It might have been the only thing that saved their lives.
Fogstow, Indiana and all its ruins now belonged to the Creepers.
* * *
It would be another six hours before emergency crews would show up in Fogstow from the state. They went in through the channel armed with assault rifles and night vision equipment. They sported body armor and helmets, and when they encountered Creepers on the street feasting on dead bodies, they opened fire and took out at least forty of them.
Carrie LeBalte remained hidden inside the ’Bend, frozen in terror, and never came out.
Several Creepers had fled into the TC ruins, and they waited out the state and federal investigation before the town was permanently sealed off from the public. The only way in was through the channel.
Residents of the Beach got both state and federal funding for relocation, and the Bucky Cole barge came in and provided river transportation for the relocation efforts of the remaining townsfolk.
The Creeper’s story would continue, at some point in the future. Cam Wright and Russ Morgan would make sure of that.
***
4
The duty officer pulled up to the Derbie dock in front of Carolyn’s reservation and mounted. The day had been more than Linton could handle, and all he wanted to do was be with his family. He wanted to lie down beside Kelly and just close his eyes. He wanted to forget this day had ever happened.
They all got off the
boat and Linton invited everyone inside. They had to wait there for the state boys anyway after Kramer made the call, and there was no need to make them wait on the boat.
But it was all the same to them and they stayed with their vessel. So did Barnes, Broshears and Little.
Linton, Stark, Kramer, Jack and Derri all made their way up to the main house and walked around the back to enter. They never used the front door because Carolyn kept a piano in front of it.
“Jack, you and Derri can stay here for the night. We’ll suit up a cabin for you and you both can stay for as long as you like,” Linton said.
“We appreciate it, Linton,” Jack said. He led Derri out back toward the cabins.
Linton turned the corner to the back of the house. Just before he reached for the doorknob, he heard sobbing coming from inside the coal bin next to the house. Kramer and Stark both heard it too.
“What the hell?” Stark said.
Linton approached the coal bin, and when he opened the large wooden lid, a scream emerged. There lay Lucy, tucked into a corner and squirming like someone was about to hurt her.
“Dear God!” Linton said and reached for Lucy, who was weeping with her eyes closed. When Linton’s hand touched her shoulder, she screamed bloody murder.
“Lucy! Lucy, it’s Linton, sweetheart. It’s Linton!”
Lucy opened her eyes and frantically crawled toward him. Linton scooped her up and held her. She locked onto him tightly, with surprising force.
“What’s wrong, honey? It’s okay. You can tell me,” Linton said.
“Momma! You hafta help Momma!” Lucy said.
Linton took a look around and saw the back door was slightly ajar.
“Is your Momma inside, honey?”
Lucy nodded and mumbled “uh-huh,” still clinging to Linton.
Linton looked at Kramer and tried to hand her off to him, but Lucy resisted.
“It’s okay, sweetie. Sheriff Kramer is going to take you to his car and he will lock it. No one can get you inside the police car,” Linton said. “I’m gonna go help your momma.”
Lucy leaned back and looked at him, and then grabbed Marvin Kramer. He took her to the car and sat inside with her while Linton and Stark took out their service weapons and entered the house.
Linton crept inside and peeked around the corner. He could see nothing in the kitchen except the knife block, which had been knocked over. He slowly crossed through the kitchen, and as he approached the living room, he saw Carolyn lying face down in a pool of blood. He quickly approached his mom and rolled her over. The shock of what he saw made him double back and stick his knuckle in his mouth.
“Oh, no. Oh, Momma. No, oh no,” Linton said as he tried to shake his mother, uselessly. “Momma, no. Wake up, Momma. Wake up!”
She had been stabbed in both of her eyes repeatedly. Carolyn Weyerbacher-Derr had been dead for nearly an hour.
Stark put a hand on his shoulder, but Linton violently slung it away.
“Momma?”
Linton put his ear down to hear her heart, then put it to her nose.
“Come on, Momma. Take a breath.”
“Linton, I’m sorry, buddy,” Stark said.
Linton whipped around and scowled at Stark, and then tried again to get his mother to breathe.
“She’s gone, man,” Stark said as he pulled Linton back. He didn’t fight him this time. “We still need to find Kelly.”
Linton wiped the tears from his eyes with the back of his wrists. His hands had already been stained in his mother’s blood. He stood up and positioned his gun in front of him to proceed. Stark followed him up the stairs slowly, and the boards creaked underfoot.
Linton stopped on one step and turned, holding a finger to his lips. He motioned for Stark to stay there.
Linton continued up the stairs alone. Stark watched him as he reached the top of the stairs and disappeared around a corner. He heard Linton open a door, and then nothing. After a few moments, Stark heard footsteps coming back to the corner as he stood there in the middle of the staircase, clueless.
Linton backed up, still leveling his gun in front of him. His face showed no expression. He lowered his gun and leaned against the rail of the stairs, and then slowly slid down the railing and sat on the floor, laying his gun down. He pulled his knees toward his chin and leaned over with his head between them.
Stark walked up the stairs with his gun pointed in front of him and gingerly made his way around Linton. He turned the corner and looked into the only room in sight. What he saw through the open door was too horrifying to register.
Kelly Doss lay naked over the rail of Carolyn’s bed. Blood was splattered all over the room — on the walls, on the ceiling, over the open window, on the dresser, on the mirror, on the rug and flooring and all over the closet doors. Her lifeless body had been battered to horrible submission, and pieces of the lamps were scattered across the floor. Carolyn’s jewelry box had been busted open and necklaces, earrings and various trinkets were scattered about, immersed in thick pools of blood. The mirror had been shattered to pieces. Kelly’s body was covered in puncture wounds and her neck was stuck in a perpetual contortion, where the killer had finally shown her mercy and ended her suffering.
Stark looked back at Linton, wordless. Linton just looked at him with no expression on his face. Almost as if he weren’t seeing Stark, or the horrible room behind him. No, Linton Derr was looking into oblivion, his own personal hell, one that he might not have been able to come back from.
Stark’s only thought was to get Linton out of the house. He went back for him and raised him to his feet then led him outside. He sat Linton down on a bench beside the back door. The sign above it read “WELCOME TO OUR PEACEFUL HOME.”
Kramer got out of his cruiser and shut the door so Lucy could stay inside of it and feel safe.
Stark approached him and spoke low in his ear.
“We need to get this entire Reservation locked down. We have two bodies inside, Sheriff,” Stark said.
Kramer was obviously emotional. He started to walk past Stark and toward the door, but Stark grabbed his arm. Kramer thought it was either one of the boldest moves a young deputy had ever made, or that there was something so bad inside the house that his own deputy felt he had to protect him. He looked at Stark, who was showing respect for the sheriff by not looking him in the eyes.
“You’re gonna have to trust me, sir. You don’t want to go in there,” Stark said.
Kramer looked away. He let go of it all for the moment, then took one look at Linton and realized that he appeared to be catatonic. He knew right away that if there was something so bad inside that house to put Linton Derr into that state, he had better heed his deputy’s advice.
The men heard footsteps coming from the side of the house. Two people were approaching along in the gravel driveway. They were walking, not running.
Stark and Kramer both pulled out their guns and assumed defensive positions on the opposite side of the car. They realized it could have been the duty officers from the boat or those men from Loudon, but they also knew they had two murder victims inside the house, and they were on edge. They weren’t going to take any chances.
The footsteps grew louder as two people, not speaking, approached near the side of the house, about to turn the corner. Stark had already taken his safety off.
Kramer was very much ready to blow holes in someone. But he knew that shooting first would leave no possibility for asking questions later.
The shadows of the two people were now breaching the side of the house. Just a few more steps and they would be within sight.
One step — and a slow trickle of sweat rolled down Stark’s left temple, onto his cheek.
Two steps, and the foot of an old Converse sneaker, the kind Kramer hadn’t seen in years, came forward. He could pull the trigger on it and someone would go down now and still be able to answer questions later.
But it was that third step that gave everyone a sense of how the fu
ture was going to change. It was that third step that would change their lives forever. It was that third step that brought Linton Derr out of his catatonia.
Linton stood. He could not utter a single word.
Standing in front of him was a man in a long-sleeved flannel shirt buttoned up to just below his neckline. He wore an unzipped vest. Beside him stood a woman, also in a flannel shirt, with her hair pulled back in a bandana, arranged like she had just finished dusting a house.
Jack and Derri Emmons came in behind the men. Their faces expressed total shock as they approached Stark and Linton, standing side-by-side.
Standing in front of them were Sammy Derr and Lorie Emmons. But it was not just them. It was them as they were the day they both went missing.
Sammy Derr had not aged one second since 1973, and he was still wearing the same red and white flannel shirt with the black stripes on it. Linton recognized it instantly.
Lorie Emmons still wore the same rag in her hair she had on that day she disappeared in 1979. Jack Emmons remembered it well. Derri had been too young to remember her, but she had seen pictures of her mother. There was no doubt in her mind who she was looking at.
“Excuse me, fellas,” Sammy Derr said. “I’m looking for my wife. Her name is Carolyn, and we own this place.”
* * *
Acknowledgements
My Folks, for paving the road I walk down.
My Kids, for walking down the road with me.
Laurel Black, for her strong editing skills.
Will Overby, for his amazing knowledge of cover design, formatting and many other publishing skills.
About the Author
Nick Younker has spent over fifteen years working in the local and national media. After transitioning from television to online journalism, he honed in on his lifelong love of horror entertainment and blended it with his unique abilities as a writer.
