Evil Whispers

by Goingback, Owl

  Krissy screamed and staggered back as a gnarled tree root, black and twisted with disease, shot out of the ground and wrapped itself around her left leg. She tried to free herself, but the root climbed higher and encircled her waist.

  She screamed again as a kudzu vine, thin and leafy, climbed up her back and wrapped around her neck. She tried to call for help, but the vine filled her mouth with its scratchy leaves. Krissy coughed and struggled to draw a breath.

  Another vine grabbed her. And another. They dragged her toward the lagoon. Krissy tried to resist, fighting to stay on her feet, but slipped and fell, sliding down the bank. As she was pulled into the water, the voice of her special friend again entered her head.

  I promised you would see me, Krisssy. I did not lie. Behold, you have your wish.

  The surface of the lagoon rolled and boiled. Krissy watched in horror as something slowly rose out of the water in front of her. It was a towering, manlike creature made from the black mud and muck that lined the bottom of the lagoon. In the face of this foul abomination glowed two red eyes...eyes that watched with interest as the kudzu vine slowly choked the girl into unconsciousness. As blackness descended over Krissy something entered her body and seized her thoughts. Something evil and unclean with a voice that was smooth as honey.

  Chapter Twelve

  The surface of the lagoon was again calm as the little girl pulled herself out of the water. Gone were the ripples and bubbles so visible only moments before. Gone too was the creature of mud which had arisen from beneath the water. Even the wind had died down to nothing more than a gentle breeze. Everything was calm and eerily quiet.

  The girl got to her knees and shook her head, as if she was trying to shake the water from her ears. She took several deep breaths, forcing air deep inside oxygen-starved lungs.

  She leaned back and looked around. Her eyes, once a soft brown, now had a strange bluish-green glow to them that had never existed before, a nocturnal shine similar to the eyes of the predators who hunted the forest at night.

  The diseased root that had encircled her waist was gone, as was the scratchy kudzu vine that had grabbed her around the throat. She placed the fingertips of her right hand to her throat and pressed gently. The delicate skin beneath her fingers was already starting to darken with bruising.

  She opened her mouth and tried to speak, but only a hissing of air escaped her lips. She tried again and was successful.

  Throwing her head back, the little girl looked up at the night sky and laughed. But the laugh that came from her was not the high-pitched giggle of a child. On the contrary, the voice was that of a man...a man who had been dead for over one hundred and fifty years.

  Mansa Du Paul pushed himself off of his knees and stood up. He had done it. His spirit had crossed back over into the land of the living. His power was still strong, perhaps stronger than it had ever been before. He was a Loa now, a spirit from the other side that could return to earth and inhabit the bodies of the living. He was death itself, and he had returned.

  He looked down, studying the body of the girl where his spirit now resided. He would have preferred taking over the body of someone bigger, but Krissy’s body would have to do. The little girl was healthy, and what strength she had lacked his spirit would now provide.

  She was also innocent and had offered little resistance to him. Krissy had fought back with her body, but not with her mind. She had not tried to block his spirit with her mind, had not resisted his invasion of her flesh. And because she had not resisted him mentally, Krissy Patterson still lived. The bodies of the other children he had tried to take over, those who had resisted, now lay rotting at the bottom of the lagoon, buried deep in the mud.

  Krissy Patterson was now his host, and he would ride her like a wild horse. She would do his bidding, gathering the scattered bones of his former self from the black waters of the lagoon.

  The little girl had already found some of his bones, twenty-two in all, mostly those that had washed up on the island over the years. The rest of his bones lay beneath the water, buried in layers of soft mud and decayed vegetation. Those bones would not be a problem to find, now that he had a physical form to serve him.

  Once all of his bones had been gathered together, he would conduct a voodoo ceremony to get his old body back. Then he would be at full power once again. A blood sacrifice would be needed for the ceremony, but that was no problem. Once he had gathered the bones and invoked the ceremony, he would use the blood of the girl for that sacrifice. All of her blood. Then he would drink her soul and feed on her delicate flesh. It had been a long time since he last tasted the sweet flesh of a child. Much too long.

  Mansa stood still, focusing his attention inward. It only took a moment to find Krissy’s spirit, which still resided inside her body with him. He had not killed the girl, had not set her spirit free. Instead, he had pushed her spiritual being into a tiny corner where it could not interfere with his plans. Her spirit was now just a tiny flame flickering in the darkness, a flame he could extinguish anytime he felt like it. From that tiny flame a voice could be heard, a small, frightened voice of a child crying out in the darkness...crying out for help.

  Mansa laughed and wet his lips, allowing his tongue to savor the taste of flesh that was now his. “I did not lie, little one. I did not lie. I told you that you would see me tonight, and here I am. Pity that we look exactly alike, you and me. But do not fret, little one. Do not scream. We will be spending much time together.

  “And we will play many games, painful games that will make your spirit dance and hop about. Games that will take your soul to the brink of madness and beyond. I will show you what it is to be a slave, what it feels like to have the flesh stripped from your back, forced to grovel at the feet of others.”

  He reached down and touched himself between the legs, feeling soft flesh through tiny fingertips that were now his. “Maybe I will show you other games too, little one. Big people games. Games your mother and father never showed you. Games of the flesh. Maybe I will destroy this pretty little body of yours, tear and stretch your delicate little flesh until the blood flows like tiny rivers.

  “Maybe I will do to you what the white slavers did to my mother. I will make you scream like they made her scream, teach you pain and humiliation, as I commit a thousand unforgiving sins upon your flesh. I will make you old, little one. And I will make your wise...wise in the ways of the flesh. When I am done playing, I will give your body back to you. I will allow your soul to return from the darkness so you may quiver in the pain of a thousand agonies as I slowly roast you over an open fire and feed upon your pretty little body, one piece at a time.”

  Mansa raised his fingertips to his nose and sniffed, smelling the faint odor of urine. The little girl had wet herself, probably when the kudzu vine choked her into unconsciousness. He smiled. “Naughty little girl. No more drinks for you.

  “Yes, little one. We are going to play so many games together. Just you wait and see. But first we have work to do, for I do not plan to stay in your body forever. No. Not forever. Just for a little while.”

  Turning, he looked out over the lagoon. Somewhere beneath the dark waters were the remaining bones of his former self. Once he found the rest of his bones, and he knew he would, he would be able to bring to life his old body. A body that was tall and ebony and very strong. Once his body and soul were reunited, he would have his revenge on any and all that crossed his path. And there would be no one strong enough to stop him. No one.

  Chapter Thirteen

  It was a little after 1:00 A.M. when Janet Patterson awoke from a strange dream. She started to roll over and go back to sleep, but decided to check on her daughter. Krissy had gone to bed early, which wasn’t at all like her, and Janet wanted to make sure she wasn’t coming down with something.

  Slipping out of bed, she crossed the room and opened the door. All of the lights were out in the sitting room, but there was enough moonlight streaming in through the window for her to navigate w
ithout tripping over something. The door to Krissy’s bedroom was closed, but it wasn’t locked. Opening the door slowly, Janet entered the room and approached the bed.

  She was about to lay a hand on Krissy’s forehead when she realized there was no child in the bed to touch. She looked around the room and spotted the open window.

  “Krissy?” She hurried to the window. The screen had been removed and was now lying on the ground outside the cabin. Janet looked down at the screen, a sick feeling settling in the pit of her stomach.

  “Krissy?” she called again, looking out the window at the surrounding forest. A full moon hung bright in the sky, giving illumination to the area. Still, there was no sign of the girl.

  Turning away from the window, Janet hurried out of the bedroom. She checked the bathroom, found it empty, then crossed the sitting room to the front door. She opened the door and ran outside, hurrying around to the side of the cabin where Krissy’s bedroom was located. There was no sign of her daughter, or any clues to her whereabouts.

  Janet was starting to panic now, her heart racing. She told herself to be calm, but nothing could stop the fear that was quickly coming over her. Her daughter was missing, the bedroom window open and the screen pushed out. That meant Krissy, for some unknown reason, had opened the window and sneaked out while they were sleeping. Or it could mean...

  She stopped dead in her track, her eyes going wide. Or it could mean that someone had opened the window from the outside, entering the bedroom while Krissy was sleeping. That would mean someone, some fiend, had sneaked into the bedroom and taken their daughter.

  “Dear God, no...,” she whispered, terrified beyond words by the thought. Kidnapped. Her beautiful daughter had been kidnapped. “It can’t be.”

  Why not? Why couldn’t it be? Kidnappings happened all the time in America. Sex fiends and murderers snatched kids every day, many of them never getting caught. When they did get caught, they rarely spent much time behind bars for their crimes. Smoke a joint and you would get twenty years in prison. Kidnap and molest a little kid and you would get a slap on the hand and therapy.

  And wasn’t Florida a state full of weirdoes? Didn’t all the nuts roll downhill to the sunshine state? Florida was just as bad as California: full of murderers, rapists, kidnappers, and fugitives on the run. She watched America’s Most Wanted, and it seemed that half of the criminals the police were looking for had last been seen in Florida.

  Just because they were on vacation didn’t mean there weren’t dangerous people around. Tourists were often the victims of crime in Florida, but few people knew that fact because it was rarely published. That would be bad for business.

  What about the place they were staying? The fish camp looked peaceful enough, nestled away among the cypress and oak trees. But there was no security. None at all. Anybody could pull off the road into the camp, drive right up to one of the cabins. The boat ramp was also open to the general public, as was the restaurant, bait and tackle shop, and the lounge.

  She turned in the direction of the lounge. This part of Florida was rural. Redneck. What kind of good old boys did the lounge cater to? Construction workers? Farmers? White trash? Members of the Ku Klux Klan? The kind of people who lived to get drunk and fight? The kind who carried rifles in their pickups, and pistols in their pants? The kind of perverts who could only get laid through force, and would think nothing of having their way with an innocent ten-year-old girl?

  Had one of the bar’s customers, or one of the local fishermen, seen Krissy earlier in the day and decided she might be just the thing for a little fun and games? Had someone watched the Patterson’s walk to their cabin this afternoon and then sneaked back at night to snatch a sleeping girl from her bed? When had they done it? Ten minutes ago? An hour? Two?

  Had Krissy disappeared two hours ago? Had she been abducted? If so, she could be halfway to Miami by now. Miami. The gateway to Cuba and South America. That’s where stolen cars ended up, in Miami, loaded on board ships for a slow trip to South America and places unknown. Was it also where missing kids ended up? Did they get sold into slavery and shipped off to some Spanish-speaking country? A little blonde girl might fetch a high price to a white slaver, especially a little girl as cute as Krissy.

  Janet shook her head. “No. No. No. Don’t think such thoughts. She has not been kidnapped. She’s here, somewhere. You’ll find her.”

  Pressing her fist against her stomach to push back the fear that was knotting her guts, Janet ran back inside the cabin. Racing into the bedroom, she grabbed Robert by the shoulder.

  “Robert, wake up. Wake up.” It only took two shakes to wake him. He opened his eyes and looked at her.

  “What is it? What’s wrong?” he asked, sitting up in bed.

  “Krissy’s gone,” Janet replied, forcing the words out, barely able to speak.

  He threw back the covers and jumped out of bed. “What do you mean, Krissy’s gone? Gone where?”

  “I don’t know. Her window is open, and she’s missing. I looked around outside, but I can’t find her.”

  “She’s not in the bathroom?”

  “No. I already checked.”

  He hurried across the bedroom, still half asleep and staggering. Janet followed her husband out of the bedroom and into Krissy’s room. Robert flipped on the light, and they both stared toward the open window.

  Robert crossed the room and stuck his head out of the window. “Krissy!” There was no answer.

  Turning, he went back into their bedroom. He slipped on his pants and shoes, and then grabbed a flashlight and headed for the front door. Slipping on her yellow robe, and a pair of flip-flops, Janet hurried after her husband.

  Knowing that every minute was critical, that Krissy could be lost, hurt, or something far worse, the Pattersons hurried outside to look for their daughter.

  Robert circled around to the side of the cabin, as Janet had, to look at the open window leading to Krissy’s bedroom. He shone the flashlight at the ground, but didn’t see any footprints. The grass and vegetation grew thick beneath the window, so there probably weren’t any prints to be seen. No prints, which meant no clues as to whether Krissy had climbed out of the room by herself, or if she had been taken by someone.

  Circling the cabin once more, Janet and Robert hurried through the camp calling their daughter’s name. They called loud enough that their voices echoed through the fish camp, causing lights to come on in some of the other cabins.

  “Krissy,” Robert called, stopping to look around him. “Krissy, where are you?”

  “Krissy!” Janet yelled, stopping beside her husband.

  A light came on in the cabin closest to them. A door opened, and Mary Sanders stepped out onto the tiny porch. She wore a brown robe, which she held tight at her neck. “What’s wrong? What’s the matter?”

  “Our daughter is missing,” Janet answered, turning to face the woman.

  “Missing?”

  Janet nodded. “I went to check on her, and she’s not in her bedroom. The window was open, and the screen’s pushed out. We looked around the cabin, but she’s not there.”

  “Oh dear,” Mary said, her eyes growing wide. “Oh dear.” She turned to look behind her and yelled. “Ross, get dressed and get out here. We have an emergency.”

  Mary stepped back inside for a moment. When she returned, she was carrying a six-celled flashlight. Stepping off of her front porch, she walked quickly to where Janet and Robert were standing. Switching on the flashlight, she put her arm around Janet’s shoulders and gave her a hug. “Don’t worry. Everything is going to be all right. We’ll find your daughter.”

  “But where could she have gone?” Janet asked. “And why sneak out at night?”

  Mary gave her a reassuring smile. “You know how kids are, all the time full of mischief and excitement. Maybe she saw a possum and wanted to follow it. Or an armadillo. Those things can be quite fascinating to a kid. Maybe she went down to look at the alligators.”

  “Alligators?
You have alligators here?’

  Mary shook her head. “We don’t really own any, but there are a few that swim up in this area at night looking for food. We don’t feed them, but some of the fishermen throw fish scraps into the river and that draws them.”

  Janet was starting to get a little uncomfortable with what Mary was telling her. She knew Mary was only trying to make her feel better, but thinking that Krissy might be down at the river watching the alligators frightened her. What if her daughter fell into the river? Would an alligator be able to tell the difference between fish parts and a little girl? Would it even care? Hello, pretty one. I see you. Chomp. Chomp.

  They only had to wait a couple of minutes before Ross joined them. He was fully dressed and carried a Coleman lantern and a flashlight. Two men also walked up to the group. They were fishermen staying in one of the rented cabins. Ross handed them his spare flashlight while Mary quickly explained what was going on.

  “Have you searched the whole camp?” Ross asked, looking around.

  Robert shook his head. “No. Not yet. We were doing that when Mary came out.”

  Ross nodded. “Okay, then let’s start searching. We’ll save time if we split up and search.” He pointed at the two fishermen. “You guys look around the cabins, and the woods behind them. The little girl’s name is Krissy. Give us a shout if you find anything. And make sure you don’t scare her. She may have gotten herself turned around, and might be lost.”

  “You’ve got it,” said one of the men. They turned and headed off to search around the cabins.

  “Lost?” Janet asked. “Do you think she’s lost?’

  Ross shook his head. “No. Not really. It’s harder to get lost around here than you think. The river separates the camp from the rest of the forest, and the road separates it from the woods on the other side. If she didn’t cross the bridge, or the road, she’ll still be around here somewhere.

  “We had better split up too,” he said. “Mary, you and Janet search the area around the restaurant and other buildings, and along the river on that side of the camp. Robert and I will cross over the bridge and search along the river on the other side. We’ll also search the nature trail.”