A Crying Shame

by William W. Johnstone

  Mike walked over to them. Which girl is it, Jon?” he asked, wiping sweat from his face. The fierce heat of dog days was like a blast furnace in central Louisiana.

  I didn’t have time to ask her name,” Jon replied. But there are three more dead Links. Was there more than one girl?”

  Yes.” They were walking toward the plantation house. Christy Nelson was bicycling with Jean Laborne. They . . .” He cut his sentence short as his eyes found the huge solid bulk of Karl von Pappen. Who in the hell are you?”

  Karl bowed slightly, curtly, and said, I am Dr. Karl von Pappen, sir. I have helped clean the girl, calmed her, and given her a mild sedative to help her relax. It will dull her senses somewhat, help her to cope with the pain she is experiencing, but it will not put her to sleep—or it should not. I took the liberty of questioning her as I worked. Her name is Christy Nelson, a resident of this county—”

  Parish,” Jon corrected.

  Thank you,” Karl said stiffly. If I should require any further assistance you will be the first to know. For I will so indicate. Now if I may continue?”

  But of course, Karl.” Jon smiled.

  Danke. Miss Nelson is quite a level-headed young lady. Very blunt, as well. When I complimented her on her presence of mind, she informed me that most country girls usually have their shit together.” He grimaced. A quaint expression, to be sure. I don’t recall ever hearing it before. I can only hope it does not make its way to the children of Germany.

  The Links—as we have chosen to call them—kidnapped Miss Nelson and her young companion with whom she was bicycling. Both young ladies were raped, rather brutally. Miss Nelson will require some stitches in the ... ah ... her bas region of—”

  Her what region?” Mike asked.

  Her nether regions,” Karl said impatiently.

  Mike looked at Jon.

  Her pussy,” the mercenary informed him.

  Ah, yeah,” the sheriff said.

  How crude, Jon,” Karl said. May I continue? Thank you. I have delivered medical discourses in less time than this is requiring. Getting back to Miss Nelson: I do not believe she was seriously harmed—physically, that is. I cannot speak for her mental stability, which is still rather ... ah ... auszentrum?” He looked at Jon.

  Off center.”

  Yes. Thank you. At this time, off center. I believe that concludes any information that you might be requiring at this time, Constable.”

  I’m the sheriff!”

  Whatever.” Karl looked at him. My report is concluded.”

  The German and the Cajun stood looking at one another. Mike finally said, Well ... no shit!”

  Yes,” Karl said dryly. That interjection seems to be quite popular among Americans. If you would, kindly keep it on your side of the ocean.”

  Mike stood open-mouthed. I’m gonna tell you something, Dr. von Whatever-in-the-Hell-Your-Name-Is: I don’t know whether I like you very much. You’re just about half smartass!”

  Karl’s smile was a bit strained. And you’re probably under a strain, Sheriff. Understandably so.” He folded his arms across his barrel chest and gazed over Mike’s head, speaking to the soybean field. Where is the ambulanz I called for?”

  How the hell do I know?” Mike said. Do I look like an ambulance driver?”

  Karl muttered something under his breath.

  What’d he say?” Mike asked Jon.

  Forget it,” the mercenary urged him, tossing Karl a dark look.

  Mike said, We got troubles, buddy.”

  Karl stirred at the term buddy,” but kept his mouth closed.

  Oh?” Jon arched an eyebrow.

  Joe just quit me.”

  Jon shrugged. So?”

  You don’t understand, Jon. Joe is a deeply religious man—a fanatic about it. He left a note on my desk saying he had to spread the word about the devil’s beasts being in this parish. You know what that means?”

  Oh ... crap!” Jon spat the word.

  Something to be thankful for,” Karl muttered. You didn’t say shit.”

  Mike ignored him. Jon ... Joe’s got pictures of the dead Links to show around. He’ll get people of this parish so worked up ... they’ll be shooting at everything that moves, snarls, growls, or looks funny. Or even looks like it might. I pity any hippie-looking person who travels through here at night after Joe gets through working everybody up into a panic.”

  And your plan?” Jon inquired.

  Plan! Hell, what plan? I thought maybe we could buy a little time, so you could clean out those nasty-looking. . . fuckers! But now? God, man—who knows what’s going to happen?”

  May I speak?” Karl said.

  Mike looked at him, sighed, then nodded his head.

  Dr. Lewis is disturbed about something he found while examining the brain of that first Link you killed, Jon.”

  Sheriff Saucier spread his hands in a gesture of helplessness. Wonderful,” he said sarcastically. Now what?”

  Walter thinks he has found a virus that is quite similar to Formido inexoribilis. . . .”

  Formi—what the hell did you say?” Mike blurted.

  Rabies,” Karl replied wearily.

  Well, that’s just dandy!” Mike said. What the hell else is going to happen around here?”

  Wait a minute, Mike.” Jon silenced him. Karl, you said ‘quite similar.’ Is that to the good or the bad?”

  Well...” The German was thoughtful. I would think—I cannot be certain of this, of course—I would say the bite is not . . . would not produce the same lasting effects as Formi—” He looked at Mike. Rabies. I do not believe it is fatal.” He shook his head. Oh, Jon, you are asking me questions I cannot satisfactorily answer. We need time for tests, to study. We need a few Links alive.”

  Bullshit!” Mike shouted. He pointed a finger at Karl. Now you listen to me, you burly egghead . . .”

  Karl smiled thinly. Very thinly. Jon wanted to tell Mike not to antagonize Von Pappen, for the big German could take a metropolitan phone book in his bare hands and give you two halves—quickly. He had been a member of the French Foreign Legion before going on to the University of Heidelberg, and had also boxed as a heavyweight—winning all his bouts by knockout.

  ... I don’t have time for fancy experiments in this parish. In just about twenty-four hours, all hell is going to break loose around here. And I mean hell, Mr. Hotshot Doctor. And right now I don’t know what I’m going to do to contain that inferno. Contain! Wrong word. Cope with it. I don’t know what Governor Parker’s going to do; don’t know if Parker himself even knows what he’s going to do....”

  The sounds of sirens growing louder stopped Mike’s red-faced, blood pressure-raising tirade. He shook his head. We seem to be getting off on the wrong foot, Dr. von Pappen. And it’s my fault. I’m sorry. I should not have lost my temper like that. It’s just . . .”

  Karl silenced him by holding up one hand and smiling. He stepped from the porch and extended that hamlike hand. Mike took it. I understand, Sheriff. I, too, as difficult as it must be to believe, have, on occasion, lost my temper....”

  Jon’s laughter cut Karl’s self-complimentary apology off. Glad I got my boots on. Bullshit is getting thick and rich around here.”

  Both sheriff and doctor laughed, Karl saying, Be silent, mercenary. Before I find it necessary to thrash you.”

  Never on your best day, fatso,” Jon told him.

  The German did not disagree, for he knew only too well how dangerous Jon Badon was, how cold-blooded and well-schooled in violence.

  Karl snorted. He is obviously a man of low degree, Sheriff Saucier.” Mike’s glance went from man to man. He realized this bantering must go on constantly. Can you be here later on this evening?” Karl was asking. And bring this governor person with you? I feel we will know something of a more . . . ah . . . genau nature.” He glanced at Jon.

  Exact,” the mercenary said. Wish to hell you’d learn English.”

  Yes,” Karl said, ignoring Jon. Exact. Is what I ask possi
ble?”

  You’re sure it’s that important?” Mike asked, then shook his head. Hell, what am I asking? Of course it’s important. Yeah, sure. But let me call and I’ll get back to you. One of us will be here.”

  Good.” Karl bobbed his head. As for now, the ladies are seeing to the young girl. If you gentlemen will excuse me, I should like to return to our makeshift lab.” He looked at Jon. Primitive though it may be.” He turned, walking into the house.

  Quite a character,” Mike observed.

  Yes, at least that. And one of the most powerful men I’ve ever known. Perhaps the most powerful. Last year we were in Burma, looking for giant leeches.”

  Giant leeches?”

  Yeah. About ten feet long, or longer. Huge things.”

  Mike shuddered. A ten-foot-long leech? Yuck! But I think I’d take the leeches over what we’ve got here. Did you find them?”

  Traces.”

  The ambulance finally arrived, stopping amid a cloud of dust. Dr. Thurman stepped out of the back. He nodded curtly at Jon, his dislike for the man very evident. He said to Mike, Where is she and which one made it?”

  Christy Nelson. She’s in the house.”

  Badly hurt?”

  Not physically, so I’m told. I’ll talk to her later. Doc? Sit on this; isolate the girl. No visitors except the parents. Very short time only.”

  Thurman nodded. I heard about Joe quitting you. Good luck.”

  Yeah,” was all Mike would say about that. Spoken with no conviction in his voice. He nodded at Jon, walked to his car, and pulled out.

  Joe Ratliff had gathered a gaggle of good ol’ boys, including Whacker Jolson, who, in his drunken state, thought Joe was going to announce his candidacy for sheriff and was throwing a free barbecue. The men were armed with shotguns, .308s, .30-30s, and an occasional 7-mm. There was much tobacco-chewing and spitting. Hats, ranging from ball caps to twenty-three-gallon types, adorned with various types of feathers and pin-on buttons, which proclaimed everything from the individual owner’s belief in the National Rifle Association to how sexy he was, were cocked at every conceivable angle. There were so many feathers it was difficult to tell if the men were gathered to hear a speech or to build a shrine to pay homage to a ring-necked pheasant.

  But they were, by gawd, going to protect their women and children from them damned things in the swamp.

  During this upcoming exercise in futility, which would end in failure and disaster, one would shoot himself in the foot; two would shoot a friend; one would be bitten by a cottonmouth; one would die of a heart attack; and, of the sixty-odd men who would initially enter the swamp, only three would ever come out—alive.

  Joe?” Luther Tilton said. Ah thank you’re plumb full o’ shit, puhsonally.”

  Whacker belched loudly and polished off what remained of a pint of Old Taylor. You got my vote, Joe!” he hollered.

  Aw, shut up, Whacker!” Butterbean Morrison told him.

  Butterbean had two brothers in the crowd. They were called Pinto and Lima.

  Then why’d you bring that rifle?” Joe asked Luther.

  ’Cause you jist might be right. I’ll listen to you, long as you don’t start none of that fuckin’ preachin’.”

  I’ll forgive you that blasphemy, Luther.” Joe fixed his steady eyes on the man. But if you—any of you, all of you—don’t believe me, why don’t we all just take a run down to the funeral parlor and ask to see the bodies of Paul Breaux and that Guy What’s-His-Name? What happened to that smart-aleck reporter from the paper, Gardner? Now Booger Brady has disappeared, too. And why was the governor up here—in secret—the other night? Add it all up, boys, then stick this with the total: you all got friends in the surrounding parishes; call ’em, all of you. Ask ‘em if there ain’t a bunch of strangers in unmarked cars stayin’ close in the motels around the area. And all them cars got police radios in them.”

  The men shuffled their booted feet in the dust and chewed and spat and silently reflected for a few moments.

  Joe said, Now I’ve showed you all pictures of Satan’s beast,”—he opened another Manila envelope—now I’m fixin’ to show you what really happened over to Despair.” He passed around the pictures of what was left of Paul Breaux, then pictures of Guy What’s-His-Name.

  Several of the men puked immediately; almost all felt sick at their stomachs.

  Damn, Joe,” Mule Whitney said. What bent that there shotgun?”

  The devil’s beast,” Joe said flatly. The mark of the beast is upon us. They are walkin’ the earth. We—”

  I warned you about that shit!” Luther said. Jist stay with the program and save the sermon.”

  Let’s git ’em!” Clint Ralesfort shouted.

  Damned right!” Noble Rousseau said.

  The others hooted and hollered. They’d show the world how to handle a bad situation, by gawd! Bottles of booze were uncapped. One man swallowed his chewing tobacco and had to be excused.

  Joe shouted them down. Hold on a minute! Let’s get organized here. First things first. You men get food and water to take with you and lots of ammo. Gas up your bass rigs and put in a spare can of gas.” He glanced at his watch. We’ll meet here at five o‘clock in the morning. Sharp! No point in goin’ off half-cocked now; it’ll be dark in two hours anyways. Nothing we can do this night but get ready to do the Lord’s work. Don’t tell your families nothing about it. But those of you got friends you can trust to keep they mouths shut, tell ‘em ’bout this; some of ‘em may want to join in this Christian crusade. Now what we don’t want is a panic in the parish. So be careful who you talk to ’bout this.”

  Loose lips sink ships,” Whacker said.

  Shut up, Whacker,” Joe said. Five o’clock in the morning, now. Be here! Right now, let’s all join in a moment of silent prayer.”

  Whacker passed out on the ground.

  Whacker woke up stiff and sore. Dusk was settling its cloak over the bayou country. He needed a drink bad. He looked around him. Everyone was gone. That didn’t bother him; he was used to that. But what he didn’t know was why the hell he was way out in the country. Oh well, he shrugged it off. No matter.

  Whacker began walking back to town. The leading edge of the swamp reared up dark and ominous to his left. Whacker fought back a shiver of fear. Calm down, now, he cautioned himself. Ain’t nothing to be afraid of in that swamp.

  Oh, hell, no,” he muttered, his voice comforting in the gathering gloom. Jist ’gators, snakes . . . and them cryin’ sounds.”

  Whacker had lived in the parish all his life. He knew the swamp cried. He’d heard it cry many times.

  It cried.

  Whacker froze to the gravel road as the weeping sounds drifted to his ears. Sounded like a woman crying in fear and pain.

  Who’s there?” he called. Answer me, ma’am. You hurt?”

  Only that faint crying sound in the sudden, silent, falling darkness that enveloped the lone man.

  A scream drifted to him, chilling him, bringing out a cold, clammy sweat to his skin. Whacker put one foot in front of the other, heading back to town, miles away. But he could not shake that moaning, crying voice. It came to him again and again.

  He mustered all his courage and left the road, climbing the fence, heading for the darkness of the Crying Swamp. He neared the edge and sensed something tracking him. His heart pounded in his chest, thudding heavily. He wiped his dry lips with the back of his hand.

  Who’s there?” he called.

  A snarl came to him.

  Let me alone, you guys. Stop all this foolishness. It ain’t funny. Y‘all been makin’ them cryin’ noises?”

  A foul odor drifted to him, wrinkling his nose.

  What’d y’all have, a bag of shit?” he called, his voice rising.

  He lost his voice as his eyes picked up the shapes circling him. He tried to speak, to yell, to shout, but his throat locked on him as the creatures drew nearer. Awful-looking things. Horrible.

  Whacker lunged, attempting to break th
rough the circle. He was hurled to the ground. His clothing was ripped from him, exposing his nakedness to the night.

  And to the fangs.

  Teeth flashed in the night, white, then red as the man’s blood stained them. No one heard his choking screaming.

  It did not last long.

  Fangs clamped onto and into his throat. Blood spurted. A leg was ripped from his torso, one Link tearing the flesh from the bone, another cracking the leg bone, sucking at the marrow. The night became almost silent, except for the sounds of lips smacking in satisfaction at this meal, and the incomprehensible grunting of the beasts as they talked.

  The Links slipped away, back into the swamp, leaving Whacker’s bones to gleam dully under the moonlight. Like their distant cousins from far down the ecological chain, the Links had stripped the bones as bare as a swarming school of piranha.

  A curious opossum lumbered and lurched its way across the field, literally stumbling over the carcass of Whacker Jolson.

  The opossum found a few scraps of meat to feast upon, under the light of the moon, shaded this night a strange blood-red.

  Governor Parker has been hospitalized,” Sheriff Saucier said over the phone. Stroke. It’s real bad. They don’t give him much hope.”

  What about the lieutenant governor?” Jon asked.

  He’s an idiot.”

  Come on, Mike. The man can’t be an idiot and be the lieutenant governor of a state.”

  You wanna bet?” Mike countered. I’m telling you, Maurice Pennypacker is an idiot! He campaigned from the back of a mule. Rode that damned mule all over the state. You didn’t have to know where he was speaking on any given day; just follow the shit in the highway, that’d lead you right to him. Just about the time most of us thought the state of Louisiana had changed its image, along came Pennypacker and his damned mule. Had a Bible in one hand and a soybean stalk in the other.”

  The mule or Pennypacker?”

  Badon...”

  Sorry, Sheriff.”

  The mule died. Collapsed just outside of Dry Prong. Most people thought he got into office on a pure sympathy vote.”

  I thought the mule died?”