"Let me tell ya'll,” Carl continued, “We Willises move ‘round quite a bit. Hell, we've lived in Louisiana, Mississippi, Alabama, even way down in fuckin’ Florida where it's hotter'n shit. And I've swamped with the best of ‘em. Those Glades down in South Florida are a bitch, fuckin’ clouds of big-ass, stingin’ mosquitoes and even more gators, rattlers, and moccasins than the damn skeeters. There's mud pits and bogs that go on for miles and miles. But when it comes to quicksand, there ain't a place in the world that can hold a candle to that damn Broaddus marsh. Place ain't so big like the Okefenokee, or thick like that mother fuckin’ Atchafalaya, but you wanna die you just haul your butt back in Broaddus. That's all that place is, a big goddamned pit of killer quick sand and mud bog. Let me tell y'all what happened to me that day. Hell, I had me a little skiff and a good, long pole, and I damn near didn't make it out of there. That nasty ass mud shit they got in there sticks to you, sticks to the boat, hell, even sticks to the damn pole like some kind of black glue and don't never want to let go."
Looking Carl straight back in the eye, Lee asked, “What were you doin’ back in there?"
"Thought I saw me something.” Carl took another quick swig. “You know, from the road you can see some of them chimneys stickin’ up. I figured there might be somethin’ in there worth a shit. You'd be surprised what you can find ‘round some old abandoned houses. And I'd heard they were big ol’ mansions in there once, so it seemed like a good idea to go check things out for myself. Like I said before, I know my way ‘round a swamp.” Carl leaned forward, and his stony face changed, looking even more serious and hard. “It took me a while even in the skiff, but I got quite a ways back in, maybe two, three miles, or more. Shit the moss was hangin’ down out of those fuckin’ cypress trees to where I ‘bout couldn't even see fifty feet. Thicker'n shit. A sneaky-ass thing about Broaddus is, in lots of spots the ground looks solid, but it ain't. But I've been around. I've seen the tricks a swamp'll play on you to get yer ass. People that don't know no better'll find themselves drownin’ in mud quicker'n shit."
Lee looked to Ronnie who returned the glance. This was going to be good.
"Anyway,” Carl kept on, not losing a beat. “I poked around a little at first, checkin’ out the chimneys I could see from the road, but there weren't nuthin’ there worth nuthin'. It was all picked over. So I just kept workin’ my way back in further and further. I didn't have to worry ‘bout gettin’ lost my first time in like I would have in the Galdes. I knew the swamp wasn't all that big as swamps go, and if I just stayed headin’ in one direction long enough I'd come out somewhere. The problem was it was such thick shit, it was real tough goin'. Sometimes my pole wouldn't even touch bottom, and I had to kind of paddle. After a while I come across what looked like a patch of dry land with a big ass house stickin’ up, but leanin’ over kind of sideways, like a car that's got one wheel stuck in a ditch.” Carl cocked his head and put up his Nehi bottle angling it to about two o'clock. “Leanin’ like this."
All the boys had quit their fidgeting and had gone silent, watching Carl intently as they listened.
"But the closer I got the more it didn't appear to be leanin'. I ain't never seen nuthin’ like it. I'm tellin’ y'all it was a big ass house, like one of them old, old plantation houses you see in Louisiana, complete with fancy, little, white balconies under the pane glass windows and lacy white curtains. I swear, the closer I got the more it looked almost as nice as some of them fancy ass rich places over in the Bluffs. I'm tellin y'all, I ‘bout shit. I didn't expect to come across nuthin’ like that in no place like Broaddus Marsh."
"What'd you do?” Ronnie asked, probably not even knowing he'd spoken up he seemed so mesmerized.
Carl took another quick sip and smacked his lips, then began again slowly. “Well I figured I'd found me somethin'. I was all hot to check it out, but not so stupid as to get all worked up and shoot my wad runnin’ round all fired up like some dumb jackass. Good thing too, ‘cause when I stuck my pole down before settin’ foot out of the skiff, it just sunk like nuthin'. Strange thing was I'd have sworn it was solid ground. But I'd seen that kind of shit before, so I kept polin’ in closer and closer and pokin’ ‘round and ‘round looking for some good solid ground, and that's when I heard it."
"What?” This came from Ronnie, again.
"Some kind of fuckin’ ass tinkly music.” Carl glared around. “If anyone here calls me a liar I swear I'll kick their ass ten ways in ten seconds, but it was like one of them old timey pianos in the saloons in the cowboy movies.” He leaned back against the wall, momentarily holding his bottle between his knees. “Shit, I knew there weren't nobody in there playin’ no damn piano. But swamps can do funny shit. You spend some time back in a few and you'll hear and see shit ain't nobody'll believe ‘cept them that sees it. There ‘bout ain't no places more spooky in the whole damn world. Lots of serious shit goes in swamps, cause they're places where there ain't nobody ‘round to see, no witnesses, if you catch my drift. Anyway, so I figured what I was hearin’ might be somethin’ like a crystal chandelier that got left behind blowin’ in the breeze."
Again his expression changed, going even stonier. “'Cept there weren't no breeze. None at all. And let me tell y'all it was hot, too. Hotter'n a witch's tit. I was sweatin’ buckets. About then, too, is when I started to smell this rotten-ass stink, like maybe a septic tank had busted. Swamps always got a bit of rotten smell to ‘em just because they're swamps. But this was like somethin’ dead; the kind of smell that would gag a maggot. But I forgot all ‘bout that when it suddenly got real still all around. I'm talkin’ still as the air in the lungs of a corpse buried six foot under. No crickets, no frogs, no nuthin'. Dead silence."
Carl leaned forward and again looked from boy to boy. He put up his hands and spread his bony fingers, wiggling them about like some kind of Indian shaman casting a spell. “Then, right before my own eyes, bigger'n shit, the front door swings open, and I can see there's light inside."
Even Lee was leaning forward, his elbows on his knees. He was so intent he didn't even notice when he drew a breath. In his ears he could hear that music, in his mind he could see the house, a Southern mansion with huge, white columns out front, the windows with the lace curtains behind, and the yellow glow of candle light coming from within.
"I'm tellin’ y'all, I bet my chin ‘bout hit the bottom of the skiff when that damn door swung open all on it's own.” Carl's expression was grave. His eyes had glazed, and he seemed to be focusing on nothing. “I could feel something. Something or someone was in there. Don't ask me how I knew, I just knew is all. And whatever it was that was in there wanted me to get out and take a look. I knew that, too. It was the damndest thing. Like it was calling to me, daring me. But, I had this picture in my head, telling me that there was probably something in there worth finding, and so I wanted to check it out. But I ain't stupid enough to just gonna go jumping out of my skiff. I was pretty near the door, so I poked my pole down, and shit, this time the ground was as solid as the floor we're sittin’ on.” Carl soundly slapped the wood, causing Pink Eye and Maurice to jump. “But still I was cautious. Shit, I ain't no fool, like Daryl there to just go runnin’ round like my dick's cut off, not payin’ attention to nuthin'. I'd poled the skiff in as far as it would go; so I put one boot down to test it out. The ground here checked out solid, but I don't know, hell, my other instincts was tellin’ me, Carl you get your ass outta here. I was just about to say fuck it and go on, and that's when I heard a woman's voice sort of singin’ out. I ain't shittin’ y'all, a damn woman! It was all soft and echoey like."
Carl looked to Daryl. “You remember them caves we poked around in a while back, a month or two ago? Remember whenever one of us called out it was all hollow and ringy sounding?"
Daryl nodded.
"Well the voice was like that. I could almost hear something; it sounded like water drippin', just like in a cave. Well anyway, she's calls me by name, says, ‘Carl, come on baby. I'm waitin'.’ I sw
ear to God, just like that, all sexy like."
"What'd you do?” This time it was Pink Eye.
"Real careful like I get out, taking it one easy step at a time. I kept my pole with me just in case."
"Just in case of what?” Maurice asked.
"In case I needed to bash someone's fuckin’ brains in.” Carl sat up stiffly. “Hell, I don't know why, you dip-shit, I just had it is all. Anyway, when I get up to the door I can see in. The fuckin’ place is like something out of a damn picture book. It's all lit up and the walls is papered in red velvet, just like a damn New Orleans twenty dollar whore house. There were candles everywhere, I shit you not. And there's sparkly little rainbows,” again he wiggled his fingers, “all over the walls and floor coming from these strings of crystals hanging down behind the widows. But hell, there weren't no sun shining outside, least not that could get through all that cypress and Spanish moss. I should have known better right then and got the hell outta Dodge, but like a dumb fuck I just had to see. So, I stuck my head in, but I cain't see nobody, nobody at all, ‘cept this big ass cigar store Indian standin’ near the staircase. And that music was coming from everywhere, now even louder. I swear, I was just about to set foot in the door when I felt somethin'. It was like a...” Carl was working with his hands, but even his fingers couldn't seem to help him express what he was seeing in his mind. “Like a..."
"A weight,” Lee spoke up. “Like something heavy sittin’ on your chest, stealin’ your breath, but all around, as though it's comin’ out of the air itself. Somethin’ alive that ain't alive. A presence. A powerful, powerful presence. Mean, dead mean. And meaning business."
Carl turned his full attention on Lee and grinned a mixture of surprise and wonder. “Hot damn, boy! That's it! You hit the goddamned nail on the head.” He let go of Lee with his eyes and again his gaze faded away to focus on nothing. “There was somethin’ there, and it weren't no lady. The woman's voice sings out, all hot: ‘Carl, come on upstairs. I'm waitin'.’ Hell, I've sure as shit set enough traps and baited enough hooks on my own to know one when I see one. It was then that my instincts told me: ‘Carl, if you wanna live you get the hell outta here.’ And ya'll all know me; I ain't never one to run. But, if I hadn't skedaddled, right the fuck then and there, I'm sure as shit I'd be dead and rotten at the bottom of that swamp right now."
"Goddamn, Carl!” Daryl blurted out. “You ain't never told me none of this shit."
Carl shot his brother an evil glare. “There's a lot of shit I ain't never told you."
"Well, what happened?” This time it was Ronnie who spoke up again. “Why'd you think you'd have died?"
Carl skewered him with his eyes. “Cause the fuckin’ ground weren't solid as this here floor, and there weren't no damn fancy mansion. It was just goddamned swamp. No sooner had I made up my mind and turned to start to light on out of there, the fuckin’ ground melts away to goo right under my damn boots. If I hadn't flung myself back when I did and still had my pole in my hand I'd have sunk fer sure. It was quicksand. It's the pole that saved me. I was sinkin’ quick, already up to my damn butt in about half a damn heartbeat. But I was able to snag some viney crap hanging down from one of them big ass cypress trees by wrappin’ it ‘round the pole. Hangin’ onto the pole I dragged my ass out far enough to get a hand on the skiff. I lost one of my boots. Some one might say it just got sucked off in the quick sand. But, I'm tellin’ y'all as sure as we're here, it was a hand, a goddamned hand, down in there. It pulled the thing off my foot tryin’ to pull me back."
"I remember that!” Daryl called out. “Damn straight! You come home with just one boot."
Carl nodded and took another swig.
"What happened when you got to the skiff?” Pink Eye asked.
"I got my lily white ass outta there fast as I could pole, that's what I did,” Carl answered. “Once I was in the boat, I could see there weren't no house at all, just one of them damn chimneys, tilting up from the quicksand like a dead man's finger comin’ up out of the grave.” He stuck up a crooked finger. “It was some kind of fuckin’ swamp devil trap."
"Swamp Devil?” Maurice echoed, his eyes as wide as saucers.
"Damn straight,” Carl came back. “Don't never let nobody tell you there ain't no such things as swamp devils. Man that says there ain't, ain't nothin’ but a fool and a fuckin’ liar."
Carl leaned back and quickly lit himself a smoke.
"Damn, Carl,” Daryl said.
"Yeah, damn!” echoed Pink Eye.
Carl took a long drag, the cherry on the end of the cigarette just glowing and glowing. Exhaling smoke as he talked, like some kind of dragon, he added. “That music. Even now I can still hear it if I think about it. Some of it followed me out of the swamp. Sure as shit, it did. Sometimes at night, back at the house, on those real, real quiet nights I can hear it soft, but plain, off in the distance, coming from the direction of that swamp, tempting me to come back. I'm tellin’ y'all what. What ever I ran into out there is still out there.” Carl flicked his ash at Daryl. “Why don't y'all go see for yourselves?"
"Shit,” said Daryl, “you wouldn't catch me goin’ in there now if they was givin’ away free pussy."
"Well I'd imagine so,” came back Pink Eye. “You always was more partial to your hand anyhow."
Everyone laughed at this including Daryl.
Carl made a pistol with his hand and fired off a shot at Daryl. “Pink Eye wuffed your face there, boy."
Daryl transferred his Nehi bottle to his left hand and held up his right. “I ain't ashamed. Man's best friend."
"Be careful if you ever go to shake hands with him,” Carl added. “That ain't mayonnaise on his fingers."
Daryl held up his hand for everyone to see. “Course I ain't been usin’ it much now that Dora's been visitin'.” He winked, and the other boys, except for Carl, laughed.
Ronnie leaned over and pulled the flap back, flipping his Pall Mall out the door. “Y'all ever go pokin’ around at the train yard?"
"Shit yeah,” said Daryl. “We've found all kinds of good shit in there."
"Remind me not to leave my bike out, next time we go,” Lee said to Ronnie.
Carl made his pistol again and fired it off at Lee. “I think I'd keep a close eye on that bike if I was you."
"Y'all ever see anything weird over there?” Ronnie asked.
"Besides that fat asshole deputy?” Carl said, making the whole group laugh again.
"No, I mean we were there and—"
"Aw shit,” Carl cut Ronnie off. “Speaking of that piece of shit deputy, I need to tell y'all what happened last Saturday. I clean fuckin’ forgot. Funny as hell."
"Yeah?” Pink Eye slurred. “What'd ya’ forget, Carl?"
Looking sideways at Pink Eye, Carl put his bottle to his mouth and raised it up high. Without any warning he flipped his cigarette butt catching Pink Eye dead center of his bare chest. The butt exploded, scattering shards of smoking tobacco all around. In moments, everyone was slapping frantically in effort to brush off the residue.
"Shit, Carl!” Pink Eye whined. “What the hell ya do that for?"
"'Cause I wanted to.” Carl made his pistol hand again and popped off another round. “Drink up’ ya big pussy. You won't be feelin’ shit in a minute."
Lee noticed that Carl's bottle was already more than half gone. Knowing what he'd heard about white lightening, he wondered if in a few minutes any of these rednecks would be able to get out of the tree house and down the ladder without falling and breaking their necks.
With a snap of his lighter Carl lit another Marlboro. “As I as sayin', I was workin’ Saturday at the station, fuckin’ with this mother fucker of a Dodge with a busted oil pan, when I hear this racket comin’ up the highway."
Lee's interest picked up.
"I rolled out from under and sat up in time to see this Sheriff's car haulin’ butt up Highway 57 with sparks flyin’ out the back like it was Fourth of July."
Ronnie looked over to Lee who
looked back at Ronnie and nodded.
"Shit! I'm tellin’ ya'll it sounded like a bunch of pissed off monkeys were up under that patrol car beatin’ it to death with jackhammers. ‘Course the cop pulls off into the gas station, and right off I see it was that fat ass, Larry. Jimmy was at the pump, so he walks over and says all polite like, ‘What can I do ya fer, ossifer?’”
"Ossifer?” Ronnie echoed.
"Yeah,” Carl replied. “Jimmy likes to give ‘em shit. He always calls the cops ossifer. It's supposed to be like he's drunk and can't pronounce officer."
Carl took a long drag of his cigarette, then opened his mouth and breathed in through his nose drawing out a whirling line of smoke, which curled up into his nose. A moment or two later he exhaled an enormous gust of gasoline flavored smoke making Lee wince.
"I can hear that fat ass holler out he's got something wrong with his car. So Jimmy comes over and tells me I better come and take a look. So I get up and light me a smoke and come strollin’ over, and that fat ass hollers out the passenger window that I ain't s'posed to be smokin’ at no gas station. So I stick my head in his window and ask him if he wants to arrest me or if he wants me to take a look at his fuckin’ car?"
Daryl slapped his leg. “Good one, Carl."
"Here's the best of it,” Carl looked around his eyes bright red. “I crawled up under and there was this—"
"Coat hanger wrapped around the drive shaft,” Ronnie finished.
Carl looked stunned. “How in the Sam fuckin’ hell'd you know that?"
Ronnie pointed over at Lee. “He did it."
Carl glared a malicious red-eyed glare at Lee. “Is he shittin’ me?"
Lee shook his head, not flinching for a second. He tried to suppress his grin and be cool, but in spite of his best efforts he couldn't keep it back. “I'd been pokin’ round in the train yard with a friend throwing rocks at the dumb ass. When we were walkin’ back, Fat Larry came up the road, so I hid. He didn't know my friend, so while Fat Larry was jawin', I snuck up from behind and wrapped a coat hanger up in the u-joint right in front of the differential."
Evil Heights, Book III: Lost and Found Page 5
