Just then an ocean breeze pushed its way through the woods to where Hannah was standing. The odor of rotten eggs was on the air, and Hannah wrinkled her nose when it hit her. “What the hell..?”
The tabby growled and burst free from Hannah’s arms, springing to the ground. Hannah watched as the cat ran back toward the house.
“Dumb cat,” she said to herself. “At least he’s headed home.” She wasted no time following her pet out of the woods and to the back porch, where he was eagerly waiting to be let inside. She opened the patio door, shooed the cat into the house, and locked the back door behind her.
Now that the cat was safely inside for the night, Hannah could finally finish getting ready to go out. She climbed the stairs to her bedroom and opened her closet to find a blouse. With a wicked smile, she chose a red top with a low neckline. She pulled her T-shirt off, removed her bra, and slipped the blouse on. It lay nicely on her, the neckline exposing plenty of cleavage.
Next she went to her bathroom to check her appearance. After a moment studying herself in the mirror, Hannah decided to put her blonde hair up in side ponytails. Not only would it look cute, but it would also keep her hair from getting too messed up later. Then she applied a little mascara and lipstick, dabbed a bit of perfume on her neck and chest, and she was ready to go.
Hannah grabbed her purse, turned the upstairs lights off, and made her way down the stairs. She gave her mother, who was sitting on the couch, a kiss on the forehead.
“G’night, Ma, I’m going out,” said Hannah, heading for the front door.
Her mother produced a look of disappointment. “You’re not staying home with me tonight? What are you going to do?”
“Just going out.”
“With your friend Eaver?”
“No, Ma.”
“Who with, then?”
Hannah simply shook her head. “G’night, Ma. Don’t wait up.”
CHAPTER 5
Tonight was going to be the night. That was what Walt Echerson Jr. had been telling himself all day. And now that the tent had been set up, the campfire was crackling, and the couple was drinking, he felt more certain of it than ever. This was the night Sarah Primley was finally going to give herself to him.
He had been more than patient. They had been on many dates over the last several weeks, and he had been the perfect gentleman on each occasion. If it were up to him, he would have taken her home on their first date and spent all night ravaging her young, lean body. But she was not that type. She was a trophy that had to be won over, slowly and sweetly. So Walt had taken his time with her. What began with going out to dinner, talking about the things they liked, and getting to know each other had gradually evolved into late-night phone calls, holding hands, and long goodnight kisses.
He had taken some abuse from the crew he ran with. They mocked him and called him a pussy for not yet bedding Sarah. But Walt knew his buddies were savages that would never stand a chance of winning over a beautiful woman like Sarah. So he took their ribbing in stride, focusing on the big picture.
All his time invested was bound to pay off tonight. She had agreed to spend the night camping with him at this secluded point overlooking the surf, the sound of the breaking waves below provided a relaxing, romantic ambiance. The sky above was clear and the stars shone prominently, enhancing the mood even further.
Sarah looked over to Walt, the light from the campfire dancing in her eyes. “Can you get me another drink, please?”
Happy to oblige, Walt reached for her red plastic cup. “Of course. One more Walt Special comin’ up.” He filled the cup with Red Bull and Jägermeister, swished it around a little, and handed it to Sarah. “Here ya go, sugar.”
“Thank you.” She took the beverage and brought it to her lips.
Walt watched her lips pucker to the cup, and he imagined how soft and wet they felt. He leaned in to kiss them. Sarah paused for a second, then smiled and pressed her mouth against his. While their lips were locked, he gently laid her down on the wool blanket.
Their kissing became more inspired. But Walt kept the pace steady and controlled, keeping her in her comfort zone. He brought his lips to the nape of her neck. She moaned softly, expressing her pleasure. Whatever perfume she was wearing bore the faint hint of apples, which he liked very much. Walt followed the scent down her body. He began unbuttoning her shirt and kissing her chest.
The smell of her perfume mixed nicely with that of the sweetgrass around them. He could not have set the scene any better if he had to. The stars above, the glow and crackling of the campfire, and the aroma of sweetgrass on the warm breeze created the perfect ambience for this romantic night.
But then the sweet scent was overpowered by a sulfuric odor.
The couple quickly sat up when the smell of rotten eggs hit their noses. “Eww,” said Sarah, “what is that?”
“I dunno,” Walt replied. “I’ve never smelled anything like that out here before.” He scanned the campsite, looking for any sign of something unusual.
A sticky, squishy sound was heard from behind the tent.
Walt stiffened at the sound, and his eyes targeted the small tent. “What the hell?” He slowly stood up, watching diligently. Then he had a thought that angered him. What if the assholes in his crew were there, messing with him like juveniles? This was something he would not stand for; nothing was going to ruin this night.
“Alright, you dickheads,” he said. “If you don’t get the fuck out of here right now, I’m gonna kick your asses. That goes for you too, Mal!” he added, in case his boss was the culprit.
All was quiet for a minute, then the wet sound returned.
“Okay, you asked for it!” Walt walked fearlessly toward the tent.
Sarah sat up on the blanket, watching Walt with concern. She disliked the guys he hung out with, and if they were here to intrude she would hate them even more. Hopefully it was just some innocent, burrowing critter. She watched Walt make his way to the tent, round the corner behind it, and stop in his tracks.
Then he immediately disappeared from her sight, as if yanked away.
“Walt!” she exclaimed, jumping to her feet. “Walt?”
Nothing was heard but the burning logs popping in the fire.
Sarah tentatively approached the tent. “Dammit Walt, you better not be screwing around. It’s not funny.” She walked the ten feet cautiously, her body tensing more with each step. She was expecting Walt to spring out from behind the tent and scare her. But he did not.
When she got to the rear of the tent, nobody was there. It was as if Walt had simply been whisked away into the darkness. In the light from the moon she could see the landscape surrounding her. She did not, however, see Walt – or any of his buddies.
And the acrid odor was still in the air.
“Walt! Where are you? Are you okay?” Sarah was confused, frustrated.
A grassy patch rustled in front of her, fifteen feet downhill from the tent.
“Walt?” Sarah moved toward the area. When she got there, she saw what looked like Walt lying on the ground, covered in dark, shiny wetness. And something else.
Something that looked like slimy snakes holding fast to him.
Then a large, conical head thrust out from the grasses and took a big bite out of Walt.
Sarah screamed and her knees wobbled. The thing on the ground took notice, turning a nightmarish face to her. It emerged from the grassy cover and raised itself to meet her wild-eyed stare. Sarah’s mind could not comprehend the horror before her, and she was helplessly frozen. Then the inconceivable thing came quickly at her.
Her survival instinct kicked in, and her legs responded. She ran up the hill to the tent, ducked inside, and zipped the opening shut.
She fought to keep utterly still and silent in the dark, despite the blaring fear pulsing through her body. Her ears were perked, listening intently. She heard the terrifying sounds of a slippery nightmare moving alongside the tent. Her heart was racing.
The
movement stopped, but Sarah still heard a horrid smacking sound on the other side of the canvas. Then what sounded like snuffling, sniffing.
Suddenly the tent buckled as something began ripping through. Sarah screamed and shrank back against the opposite side of the tent. The light from the campfire showed her glimpses of hooked claws as they tore the tent open, working their way toward her. Realizing she was in a bad position, she scuttled past the intruding creature. While she unzipped the flap with shaking hands, a claw scratched the side of her leg. Screaming wildly, she fled the tent and ran to Walt’s truck.
Please, God, she prayed, let it be unlocked! If it was locked, she would have to decide whether to go back to Walt’s body to search for the keys or to just keep running into the night.
Fortunately, the GMC pickup was unlocked, and she hastily jumped inside. Sarah locked the doors, made sure the windows were rolled up tight, and huddled against the passenger seat. She noticed her leg was itching terribly. Whimpering, she looked through the windshield to see if the thing had followed her.
Something smacked into the passenger door, jolting her. Sarah turned her head to see a hellish face at the glass. The sight stopped her heart for a second. Jesus, those eyes! Those huge, horrible black eyes! She tried to scream, but her vocal chords were paralyzed.
The thing struck the window. The glass spiderwebbed and buckled from the blow. Sensing success, the creature hit the window again. This time it shattered inward, covering Sarah with glass fragments.
She raised her arms instinctively to protect her face from the glass. Then she felt something grab – and sharply dig into – her neck and waist. Fighting to breathe with her heart pounding so fiercely, Sarah struggled as best she could.
But all she could do was kick her legs frantically – helplessly – while she was pulled out through the broken window.
CHAPTER 6
Danny Young woke to the sound of birdsong outside his bedroom window. Glancing at the clock on the nightstand, he noticed it was almost eight. Not as late as he had planned to sleep in, but not too early to get up. He decided to mosey down to the kitchen to make some coffee.
His father was sitting at the kitchen table in his flannel bathrobe, slowly nursing a cigarette and sipping coffee. Ricky Young, the prominent owner of one of the town grocery stores, did not look very well. His face was pallid and his eyes puffy. Danny poured himself a cup of coffee and sat beside his father.
“You okay, Dad? You don’t look so good.”
Ricky grumbled. “Late night doing paperwork at the store. And a little too much to drink afterward.” He looked up, following the wispy cigarette smoke, until his bloodshot eyes landed on the dusty chandelier. “You need to clean the house today.”
“Yessir,” was the only reply Danny could give. Even if he had other plans, it was no use disputing anything his father told him. Especially when he was hung over. Besides, their home could use a little housekeeping.
Ricky brought his eyes back down to his twenty-year-old son. He saw the same blonde curls that Danny’s mother had, which was a constant reminder of the failed marriage. “So when are you gonna get a job?”
Danny squirmed in his chair; it was going to be one of those days. “I’m looking, Dad, but there’s just not a lot out there right now. Especially that’d work with my school schedule.”
“Why don’t you quit school so you can find a better job?”
“I’m going to school so I can get a better job.”
Ricky grumbled again, scratching his graying goatee. “As if that school’s gonna help you get a better job. A waste of time and my money, if you ask me.” He took a drag from his cigarette.
Despite Danny’s urge to argue, he chose to keep the peace. The only one who was ever right in Ricky’s house was Ricky. This was a lesson Danny had learned all his life. He simply said, “Don’t worry, Dad, I’ll do you proud. You’ll see.”
Not that anything Danny did ever made Ricky proud. Whatever minor triumphs, accolades, or accomplishments Danny had, they were never met with any acknowledgement from his father. In Ricky’s eyes, nobody would ever measure up to his own level.
Ricky had done well with his life. Nobody could deny his work ethic; he always worked hard and made money. When he was thirty he was able to get a bank loan to buy one of the town grocery stores. It was the smaller of the two stores, but was a money maker nonetheless. After many diligent years, he paid back the loan and finally started stashing profits into his retirement fund. Ricky was now financially comfortable and in control of his own future.
He had even taken a stab at public office, running for sheriff one year. Unfortunately he lost the election to Jimmy Steele, who was still the sheriff to this day. Sheriff Steele was the most qualified candidate, by far, but Ricky was still bitter about losing. “Sumbitch only won because’a his name,” Ricky would always say. “Sheriff Steele… it’s a winner.”
Seeing his father’s coffee cup almost empty, Danny stood from the table and went to the coffee maker. He grabbed the steaming pot and brought it back to the table. “Need a topper, Dad?”
Ricky grunted and nodded. He finished his cigarette and squashed it in the ashtray, then lit another while Danny poured the coffee.
They quietly read the Sunday paper for a while. Then the telephone rang. Ricky winced a little from the sound, and Danny promptly sprang from the table to answer it. “Hello?”
“Hey, Danny, whatcha doin’?” said the familiar voice of Eaver.
“Hey, Eaver. Not much, just havin’ some coffee. What’re you up to?”
“Seein’ if you want to hang out today. Mason’s back, you know, and I’m taking him fishing. We’d like you to come with.”
“Yeah, that’d be cool. Perfect day for it, too,” he added, glancing out the window at the sunny morning. “I’m sure he could use a fun day out; I heard about his momma.”
“So when can we come over? Maybe we can go out on the boat?”
“Hang on, I’ll check. Hey Dad,” he called, his hand covering the receiver. “It’s Eaver Robinson. You remember Mason Parker, the one whose mom just died? Well, Eaver’s taking him fishing today, and they want me to go along. Is that cool with you?”
Despite wanting to make his son stay home and clean, the idea of having a quiet house to himself appealed to Ricky. He could spend the day lying on the couch and recovering from his hangover. “Yeah, go on ahead. You can clean the house later, I suppose.”
“Sure, Eaver, come on over. I can be ready in half an hour. Y’all have your poles?”
“Yes we do. Do we need to bring anything else?”
“Naw, I’ll load up the cooler with stuff. See ya when you get here.” Danny hung up. “Thanks, Dad. I haven’t seen Mason since high school. It’ll be nice to catch up.”
“He just graduated college, didn’t he? Ask him to help you find a job.”
Danny rolled his eyes and clenched his teeth, saying nothing. Instead of replying, he thought about how nice it would be to get out of the house for the day, away from his reproachful father. Then he had a great idea.
He had been infatuated with Hannah Dermont for years, since trying to date her in high school. But she had denied his advances every time, causing him to want her even more. Lately he had abandoned his pursuit of her, but he still thought about her constantly. Going fishing with Mason and Eaver today was a perfect opportunity to call her and ask her to join them. Perhaps she would be more comfortable spending time with him in the company of other friends.
Danny dialed Hannah’s number and waited patiently for her to pick up. After six rings she finally answered. “Hullo?”
“Hannah? Hey, it’s me, Danny.”
Her voice was groggy. “What time is it?”
“I dunno, eight-thirty or so. I’m going fishing today with Eaver and Mason Parker, and we thought you might like to come along.”
“Jesus, Danny, I dunno… I feel like shit. I ain’t going anywhere today.”
Danny noted the sam
e tone that his wrecked father had. “What, did everyone get wasted last night?”
“Huh?”
“Never mind, just get better, I guess. I’ll talk with you later.”
“M’kay.” Hannah hung up.
Danny shrugged. His attempts to see her were thwarted once again, but at least he would still have a good time on the boat today. He went upstairs for a quick shower.
Eaver and Mason arrived a short time later, fishing gear in hand. Danny greeted them from the front porch, where he was packing food and drink into a fiberglass cooler. Danny stood and shook Mason’s hand when he approached.
“How’re you doin’, Mason?”
“Okay, Danny. How’ve you been?”
“Aw, you know. Just pluggin’ forward. I should graduate community college next year, find a decent job, and get the hell outta here.” Danny turned to glance at the shallow inlet at the edge of the back yard. “Come on now, let’s do some fishing!”
“Hell yeah,” Eaver concurred. “I say we hit Pirate’s Bend for some channel bass.”
Mason carried the poles and tackle box while Danny grabbed a cooler and led his friends down to the water’s edge. They got to the rowboat, which was kept bottom-up to keep the inside dry, and kicked the hull to scare away any snakes that might be sleeping in the shade underneath. Then Eaver helped Danny roll the boat over and drag it to the water.
“We got everything we need?” Mason asked, setting the fishing gear in the boat.
“Yep, in the cooler. We got sodas, waters, jerky, and peanuts from Bennie’s. And a glass for my peanuts and Coke.”
Eaver rolled her eyes. “You and your peanuts and Coke.”
Mason, who also enjoyed the Southern combination, chortled. “No worse than your ketchup fetish. Heck, you’d probably do peanuts and ketchup!”
She laughed until she snorted. “Hush it! You’re all sorts of wrong.” She looked at Danny. “You did bring a bottle of ketchup, didn’t you?”
Danny just shook his head. “That’s enough out of you both. Let’s get this expedition moving.”
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