by Howe, A. E.
Inside the wallet, she found fifty-two dollars and a pay stub from the University of Chicago made out to Wallace Brock. Digging a little deeper, she found an ID hidden in a fold of the wallet. It was for a Manfred Brock with the Chicago Police Department. Josephine put everything back inside the wallet and slipped it into the pocket of her dress.
Out in the hallway, she could hear Mrs. Lachlan down in the lobby, talking with the two local men. “He can’t lie up there all day,” the woman said, sounding scandalized.
“I don’t think Henry can get over here much before two or three. He’s got a funeral in Perry.”
“He’s got men working for him, doesn’t he?” Mrs. Lachlan’s voice was growing shrill.
“Okay, I’ll drive over and see if we can’t get them to do something,” one of the men said, trying to placate Mrs. Lachlan.
“Someone should let the water out of the tub. Otherwise he’ll… get… Well, it won’t help matters.”
“You have a point there. I’ll go up and take care of it. Guess I’ll cover him up too.”
“Someone will have to notify his family,” the other man said.
“You’d think that good-for-nothing sheriff would have taken that on.”
“I’ll search the room and see if I can come up with a home address or something.”
“Maybe one of the other guests would know. They’ve all been very chummy lately.” Mrs. Lachlan sounded like she didn’t approve of her guests being so friendly with each other.
Josephine patted the wallet in her pocket, realizing that she’d assumed some responsibility for contacting Brock’s family. She wished she’d known about the other name he used before she’d sent Grace off, but without access to a phone there wasn’t much she could do until Anton returned.
She went to Blasko’s room to check on him. She found everything neat and tidy. For all of Anton’s scruffy appearance, she had to hand it to him that he took good care of Blasko’s personal affairs. She double-checked to make sure that the coffin was securely closed and that all the curtains where pinned tightly shut.
She was hesitant to leave Blasko unattended, but she was too worked up to stay inside the room and wait for nightfall. Despite all that had happened, it was still only eleven o’clock. She wondered what the treasure hunters were up to, but she also knew that she should check on Franklin Carter. She wanted to talk with him.
“I’m going to be gone for a little while, but I promise I’ll be as quick as I can,” Josephine said, placing a hand on Blasko’s coffin. She didn’t know if he could hear her or not, but saying it made her feel better about leaving him.
Out in the hall, she hesitated, then decided to go to her room and retrieve the revolver she’d brought with her. However, she didn’t want to carry it in town with her, so she decided to leave it in Blasko’s room so that it would be there when she got back. When she returned, she planned to spend the rest of the afternoon guarding his coffin while she read a book.
Downstairs, she saw Donavan on his way out, carrying a satchel.
“Where are you off to?” she asked, following him into the street.
“Well… I’m… You should have been at the meeting,” he said, evading her question.
“I was dealing with other matters. Like your partner’s dead body.”
“He wasn’t my partner.” Donavan sighed. “Okay, look, we think we’ve figured out what island your letter was talking about. We’re headed out there now.”
“You don’t think you need the rest of the letter?”
“We’re hoping something will stick out when we get there. Otherwise I doubt we stand much of a chance of finding the treasure without more of the directions.” He looked anxiously toward one of the boats tied up at the docks. Josephine could just make out a couple of figures walking on deck.
“They’ll leave without me if I don’t get down there,” Donavan said, already walking away.
“Didn’t you offer to take me out on your boat?” she chided him.
“Maybe tomorrow,” Donavan yelled over his shoulder.
“Yeah, thanks,” Josephine said, irritated at the turn of events. She wanted to go down and get on the boat with the others, but she couldn’t bring herself to leave Blasko or abandon Carter in whatever condition he was in. With a sigh, she turned in the direction of Mrs. Sharp’s cabin.
“It’s Josephine. Let me in,” she said once she was on the porch.
“No,” Carter said from the other side of the door.
“At least you’re answering me today.”
“I couldn’t let you in yesterday. And not today either. I can’t let you to see me… like this.” From the sound of his voice, Carter was barely hanging on to his sanity.
“Franklin, please let me in. I want to talk with you. You can hide—”
“I don’t know… I need more liquor. Can you get me more liquor?”
“Yes, I promise. Let me in now, then I’ll see about getting you something more to drink.”
Finally, she heard him throw back the latch on the door and he opened it slowly. His angular face was covered in sweat.
A horrible smell assaulted Josephine’s nostrils as a small bit of air escaped the house. She pushed her way inside with a gentle nudge of the door. Carter kept his arm hidden behind him as he backed away into the room.
“Don’t try to see it,” he warned her.
“No, of course not.” She moved toward the kitchen. “Let me open some of the shutters and let a little fresh air in. I promise no one will see you.”
Josephine took it as consent when he didn’t answer. With several of the shutters open and some fresh air moving through the cottage, he seemed to relax. And Josephine was able to breathe.
“I messed up,” Carter said, dropping into a chair at the kitchen table.
“Dragomir told me what happened.”
“He was right about that book.”
“You misjudged him before. He is a good man.”
“Man?” Carter appeared about to argue, then looked down at the bag covering his arm and gave an eerie laugh that caused a chill to run up Josephine’s back. “I guess I shouldn’t be too judgmental about who’s a man and who isn’t.”
“Don’t be too hard on yourself.”
His face crunched up into a look of self-loathing and he pulled the bag from his arm, holding it up in front of Josephine
She couldn’t help but be repulsed. The tentacles were still in the process of growing back, now about half the size they’d been when Blasko had first seen them. With sick fascination, Josephine counted five of the four-inch-long wiggly appendages on the end of his arm. Scaly, leathery skin extended up from his elbow.
“What do you say now? Do I have a right to wallow in self-pity?”
Internally, Josephine screamed, Yes! Yes, you do! But aloud she said, “We’ll help you through this,” hoping that she wasn’t being too optimistic.
“Did Blasko tell you that he chopped it off? It grew back. A freakish miracle if there ever was one.” With that, he broke into peals of laughter so loud that Josephine thought she should close the shutters again so the neighbors wouldn’t hear.
Reluctantly, Josephine moved closer to him and, with a great effort of will, put her arm around him and hugged him. His maniacal laughter turned into soft tears, which quickly gave way to sobs. At one point his tentacles touched her back, and every muscle in her body tensed as she tried desperately not to scream.
Carter’s weeping finally ended and Josephine sat down across from him at the table. For her own sanity, she needed to put distance between herself and the wriggling set of tentacles growing out of the end of his arm.
He looked at her and said, his voice calm and flat, “Make me a promise.”
“What?”
“If we can’t find a… cure for this, promise that you’ll kill me, or have Blasko do it. Just don’t leave me like this.”
A part of Josephine wanted to give him a bunch of platitudes to reassure him that i
t wouldn’t come to that, but she knew that wouldn’t be fair. “I promise.”
Eventually, she closed the shutters and left him sitting at the kitchen table after assuring him that she’d run up to the hotel and return quickly with some hard liquor to help medicate the horrors filling his mind.
“I just want to buy a couple of pints,” Josephine told Mrs. Lachlan.
“Hard to come by still, even though the national prohibition is over. Not like you can buy it free and clear anywhere around here.”
Josephine held up a twenty-dollar bill and all of Mrs. Lachlan’s objections vanished. With the two bottles in hand, Josephine made her way back to Carter’s house.
“Leave it on the porch,” he told her through the door.
“That’s silly. I’ve already seen… everything.” She tried to sound persuasive, though the truth was she didn’t want to have to confront that horror again. “Fine. I’m leaving two bottles.”
She hadn’t even made it to the road when she heard the door open and close behind her.
Instead of turning back for the hotel, Josephine found herself wandering down to the water and along the docks. She was curious to see if there would be any sign of Blasko’s altercation with the fisherman. Sure enough, she could see a streak of red on the side of the wheelhouse of one of the more ragged-looking boats.
“I wouldn’t stare too long at them boats,” said a voice, startling Josephine.
Looking around and seeing no one, she guessed that the voice had come from a boat docked next the one still stained with Blasko’s blood.
“I was just admiring them,” she said in the direction of the voice.
“Trawlers. That’s what they’re called. You’re part of that bunch up at the hotel, aren’t ya?” The man still did not reveal himself and Josephine wondered why. What hideous deformities was he hiding?
“You a fisherman?” she asked.
“Aye. Not up to the level of some, but I’m a competent hand.”
Suddenly the old man came out of the shadows of the wheelhouse. After all that had happened, it was a shock for Josephine to see that he appeared almost completely normal. Almost normal, because he wore a hat pulled down low over his head. No hair showed and Josephine figured he was bald, but what caught her eye was the leathery skin around his temples and along the back of his neck. To her eyes, it closely resembled the skin of Carter’s mutated arm.
“Why don’t the men go fishing during the day?” Josephine was having a hard time not staring at the man’s strange skin.
“Catch more fish at night.” He looked at her with unblinking eyes.
“I just thought… Other fishermen I’ve known go out during the day.”
“Do they catch as many fish?”
“I… Maybe not.”
“See.” He picked up a piece of hemp rope that was lying across a wooden box and began to absentmindedly tie it into different knots. “’Sides, our men like fishing at night.”
Josephine could swear that the man hadn’t blinked the entire time they’d been talking.
“I guess I should get back to the hotel,” she said awkwardly.
“Stay a minute if you want. I’ll show you how to tie knots.” He held out the rope to her.
The offer seemed more than a little bit odd. Josephine couldn’t decide if he was mentally slow or if he was finding the conversation as awkward as she was.
“I learned some woodsmen knots when I was in school. We had a club. Now they have the Girl Scouts.” She knew she was rambling, but he didn’t seem to mind. He was still holding the rope out to her. Impulsively, she took it and tied a square knot.
“Good knot. Basic, but good.”
Though her hands were shaking, she tied a sheet bend, though she couldn’t have said what it was called. Her mind was screaming for her to leave this odd old man, but still she stayed.
“You can come onto the boat if you want to. I’d be glad to show you around.”
Remembering Blasko’s encounter, there was no way that she was going to set one foot onto this man’s boat, even in broad daylight.
“I need to get back to the hotel.” She held the rope out to him, her paranoia warning her not to let him reach out for the rope and grab her arm.
“You got a little time, surely. Hey, my name is Enoch. What’s yours?”
“Josephine.”
“Josie. That’s nice. Let me take you on a tour.” He took the rope from her hand and dropped it into the boat, then reached back out for her hand.
She backed away. “I really need to go.”
“I thought you had questions. Wanted to know more about us. Isn’t that what all you tourists want?”
Josephine realized that he was trying to keep her there, but why? Was he going to assault her as soon as he had the chance? As she tried to break away from whatever strange mental hold Enoch had on her, an image of Blasko’s coffin alone in the hotel flashed into her mind. While it had usually seemed that their shared blood bond only ever alerted Blasko when she was in danger, this time she was sure the tables were reversed. Someone was trying to get to Blasko!
Chapter Eighteen
Without a word, she turned and began to hurry toward the hotel. At first she tried to keep calm and not attract attention. But as her heart pounded faster, she gave up all pretense and started to run.
“Hey, you come back here!” shouted the fisherman.
Josephine could hear him running behind her, but he was no match for her. The next time he shouted, his voice was far behind her and the hotel was only a block away.
She was mad at herself for leaving Blasko alone so long and her anger drove her to run faster. In her haste, she tripped climbing the porch steps of the hotel, falling hard on her knees. She ignored the pain and clambered back to her feet, running inside.
“Hey!” Mrs. Lachlan said, startled by Josephine’s sudden appearance.
Josephine ignored her and hit the stairs still running, but being more careful where she placed her feet. At the top of the stairs, she could see that Blasko’s door was slightly ajar and she headed straight for it.
Two men were standing over Blasko’s coffin, looking startled as she burst into the room. The man farthest from her held a boat hook in his hand. The other man had been jostling the coffin, but now stood looking at Josephine. She had envisioned throwing herself at anyone who was in the room, but the men’s appearance and the fact that there were two of them caused her to stop.
They were hideous abominations of men, with bulbous black eyes. They had large lips and their mouths opened and closed like fish out of water. There were only a few tufts of hair sticking to their scaly scalps and their hands were covered in the same rough skin as Carter’s arm. When the man closest to her reached out to grab her, she realized that his fingers were webbed.
Josephine jumped back and looked around for a weapon, finally remembering the revolver. She’d left it in a drawer of the nightstand. She dodged the creature reaching for her and made for the nightstand. The monster lunged after her, but seemed to trip over its own feet. However, his movement carried enough momentum to send him crashing into Josephine and they both went down. Josephine reached out with her hand, but she was still a foot short of being able to open the nightstand drawer. The creature was clawing its way on top of her, while the other one was standing next to Blasko’s coffin, looking indecisively back and forth from the fight to the boat hook in its hand.
Josephine had two choices. She could roll onto her back and face the creature or she could try to crawl closer to the nightstand. She knew she’d never be able to fight him off on her own, so her only real option was to acquire a weapon.
Pulling herself along the hard pine floor was next to impossible with almost two-hundred pounds of manfish on her back. What saved her was being able to get one foot lodged against a leg of the bed. Pushing off the bed with all her strength, she was just able to reach the nightstand. Without any hesitation, she pulled the piece of furniture down on top of her
self and the thing clinging to her back.
She ducked her head as she pulled the nightstand over, leaving the creature’s head to take the brunt of the marble top. The thing howled and let go of Josephine long enough that she rolled over and was able to open the drawer. Triumphantly retrieving the revolver, she pushed it flat up against the head of the beast that had been on her back, but was now keening softly while holding onto its skull.
“Neither of you move, or so help me I’ll kill him,” she growled as best she could between deep, panting breaths.
The creature standing above Blasko’s coffin turned and stared at Josephine with those black, unblinking eyes. Josephine was sure that it was trying to assess her resolve.
“This is a .45 caliber Colt revolver. The hole that it will make in your friend’s head would kill any animal in this state.” She watched as the hand holding the boat hook slowly drifted down to the creature’s side. “Drop it!” she ordered, cocking the pistol for emphasis. The boat hook was released with a loud thunk on the floor.
“This one damn near killed my father,” the creature said in a watery voice, pointing a finger a Blasko’s coffin.
“How did you know he was in there?”
“I know,” the creature grumbled.
“Your… father attacked the baron,” Josephine said, trying to scoot into a better position. She didn’t like touching the one that was still holding its head and whining.
“Snooping, prying. One of you killed my friend yesterday.” The creature hesitated for a moment before pointing his finger at Josephine. “You were there!”
“Your friend stole a letter from me.”
“All of you must go. You are a threat to us.”
Before Josephine could say anything, the creature on the floor flopped around and snapped at her arm. She yelped out of reflex and shock, dropping the pistol, which went off with an ear-shattering explosion. The bullet slammed harmlessly in the floorboards, but smoke filled the room and the creatures fled out onto the balcony.
As Josephine was recovering her wits, she heard footsteps pounding up the stairs. Thinking quickly, she slipped into the hallway, holding the gun by two fingers.