Dastardly Bastard

by Edward Lorn

  “No. It’s just… something that was brought to my attention last night. I think it’s a tourist spot, or something. The deskman called this morning before everything went down and told me he had some stuff on it. I think I might go out there. Keep a low profile and all.”

  “Sounds like a plan. Vacationing douchebags are less likely to make a stink over you. People don’t watch the news on vacation. I know I don’t.”

  ~ * * * ~

  Robert-From-The-Front-Desk turned out to be a skinny white man with a cleft lip. The uppity garb he wore fit his surroundings, but not his wraith-like frame. He looked like the result of someone letting the air out of a bellhop.

  “I’m so very sorry, sir, but I can assure you that none of our staff would ever break our privacy policy.”

  “What about Candice? She seemed to know a little too much last night.”

  They stood in the lobby. Donald had asked the man to step out from behind the counter; otherwise, he would have had to step back to the middle of the atrium to see Robert over the counter. Donald knew human beings well. He was a people-watcher at heart, like most authors. Writers couldn’t create real-life, flesh-and-blood characters people cared about and be a shut-in. It just didn’t work like that.

  “We don’t have anyone named—”

  “Bullshit, Bob.”

  “My name is R—”

  “I don’t care what your name is. Candice was here last night. She’s the one who mentioned this place.” Donald waved the brochures for Waverly Chasm.

  “There was a note left for me to acquire those for you, sir, but not from anyone named Candice.”

  “Then who?”

  “I’m sure I wouldn’t know. There was no name on the note, only a brief sentence asking for the morning staff to procure them. Other than your room number, the note didn’t even have your name on it.”

  “And you have no idea who left it? Not a clue? Really? Somehow, I don’t believe that, Bob.” Donald liked the defeated way the deskman looked, and felt a little taller, more powerful, because of it.

  “I manage a staff of over one hundred people, sir. It could have been any one of them.” Robert straightened his tie, nodding to a group of customers as they entered the lobby area.

  Donald fumed. People did that to him all the time. It was so easy to look over him, past him, as if he wasn’t even there. Donald snapped his fingers at Robert, whistling up at the man.

  Robert looked back down, his face full of shock. “I don’t appreciate being whistled at like a dog.”

  “And I don’t appreciate being looked over like one. Listen, Bob, I suggest you tell your owners to lawyer-up. Because if this shit hits the proverbial fan, you’re going to be out of a job when I own this fucking place.” Donald rolled the brochures and stuffed them in his back pocket. “I’d wipe that smirk off your face, as well. Keep looking down on me. I’ll show you just how big I can get when I’m crossed.”

  Donald turned, going to the bellman’s cart where his belongings waited.

  “My sincerest apologies, sir,” Robert said.

  “Sir this, asshole.” Donald flipped the bird over his shoulder as he pulled the cart through the front doors.

  4

  JUSTINE MCCARTHY ROLLED OVER ONTO her boyfriend’s sleeping form, needing the warmth of his body. Cold fall air seeped through the tent at an alarming rate, and her feet were frozen solid. Why had she let him talk her into going camping? Because she loved the man with all her heart, that was why.

  Trevor was the best of the worst. Atlanta hadn’t given Justine a big pool of winners from which to choose, and in the end, Justine had finally settled on a white boy from Warner Robins, Georgia, an ex-Air Force geek with a penchant for urban wear. Justine’s family called him a ‘wigger.’ Justine just called him ‘baby.’

  Nana Penance, Justine’s grandmother, had loved Trevor. The way Nana Penance smiled when she met Trevor had warmed Justine’s heart. Nana laughed at the story of how Justine and Trevor had found each other, thinking that internet dating was ‘of the devil’ before realizing her granddaughter had snagged Trevor in a Yahoo chatroom.

  “Seems them internets is good for sumthin’, after all,” Nana Penance said over her cup of coffee. “When you two go’n’ get married?”

  The question had made Justine’s breath catch in her throat. She looked at Trevor, and he smiled back, brightly. He seemed to like the idea. Justine didn’t know how she felt on the subject. Not back then, at least.

  That had been six months ago, and Nana Penance had died shortly after meeting Trevor, maybe a month, but Justine couldn’t remember. Everything had been a blur—the cold body on the hospital bed that looked far too empty, the news that Nana Penance had diabetes but had never sought out a way of controlling it, the lazy peal of an unattended heart monitor someone forgot to turn off as Justine cried and cried and cried.

  Trevor had been her rock, the shoulder she had needed to cry on and more. Her love for him cemented itself in her heart. It was as if all the love Justine had had for Nana Penance transferred into Trevor. Family be damned. Trevor was the man Justine would spend the rest of her life with, if only he would ask.

  Trevor whined from under her, his breath whistling. She rolled off him a little, allowing him to breathe easier.

  Instead of continuing to slumber, his sleep-crusted eyes fluttered open and met hers. “Hey, beautiful,” he groaned, stretching.

  “Hey, baby.” She smiled down at him. “Sleep well?”

  “Best in months.”

  “Good.”

  “You?”

  “Other than freezing my black ass off? Fine, I guess.”

  Trevor laughed. “Want I should warm you up?”

  She remembered their heated lovemaking and moistened. “You did plenty warming up last night, babe.”

  “No reason…” He paused to yawn. “Sorry. No reason why we can’t this morning, too.”

  “Yes, there is.”

  “Why’s that?” Trevor looked thoroughly disappointed, puppy-dog eyes and all.

  “Because I need a shower.”

  “Sure.” He chuckled. “There’s one right out there behind tree number four thousand and twelve.”

  “Funny.” She pushed his shoulder. “Get up and find me a suitable place to clean up. I’m dirty and cold.”

  He sighed. “Regretting the whole camping thing, huh?”

  Justine looked around the ten-by-ten tent, taking in the small confines better than she had been able to in the dark when Trevor had first erected it—before erecting himself. She shivered against the wind coming through the fine fabric. Other than the chilly autumn weather, she supposed the camping wasn’t so terribly bad. She told him so.

  “Good,” he said, propping himself up on his elbows. The comforter Justine had brought from home slid off of him, revealing his muscular chest. She felt her inner lining tighten, but the smell of her body killed the mood.

  “Please,” she begged, trailing a fingertip down the front of him. “Let me wash up.”

  “Baby, the tour starts in like…” He checked the Sony on his wrist. “… in like two hours. There’s some bottled water in the truck and some soap in my bag. That’s all we got.”

  “You’re kidding me. An Aquafina spritz is not exactly what I had in mind.”

  “It’s the best I can do. I told you yesterday, no toilets, no bathtubs. We’re roughing it. Remember? Just you and me in nature’s wild.”

  “Some wild.” Justine sighed. She had agreed, and last night had been fun. “Okay. For you.”

  She kissed him on the forehead. He pulled her close with one hand at the back of her neck while the other found her butt cheek. Caressing and kissing, both of them dirty and smelly, Justine was reminded of another reason she loved him so much as she slid her hand down the front of his boxers to grasp his length.

  Camping really wasn’t all that bad.

  ~ * * * ~

  Bottled water and a bar of Ivory made for an odd combination
as Justine washed up behind the tent. Thankfully, the campground Trevor had chosen was empty. While Justine bathed, Trevor got dressed inside the tent. She could hear him rolling around in there. With the few lovers Justine had had, she’d come to learn that guys rarely felt as dirty after sex as women did. Some of them even liked the smell of their woman lingering on their bodies. Justine could understand that, as she felt empty without Trevor inside her, but a little touch of OCD wouldn’t let her stay all sticky.

  The smell of damp leaves and moss mixed with the soap, was sickly, cloying. High in the trees, birdsong filled the air. Justine felt a soft electricity on her skin and heard a hum in her ears.

  A subtle shift in the world caused her to stop cleaning. She suddenly felt all too vulnerable, as if someone were watching.

  The birds had stopped singing. Her nose could no longer pick up the rotten wood odor or the smell of the soap.

  A sound rose in the woods, soft and sibilant.

  “Jusssssssst…”

  The realization that the sound wasn’t coming from Trevor made her blood run cold in her veins. Gooseflesh ran up her arms, all the way to her bare shoulders. She snapped her head to the left, then to the right, hunting the source of the voice.

  “Jusssssssst…”

  “Who’s there?” Her voice cracked. She sounded much weaker than she liked.

  “What?” Trevor asked from inside the tent.

  “Hush!”

  “Sorry.”

  “Jusssssssst…”

  “What is that?”

  “I don’t hear any—”

  “Damn it, Trevor. Hush!”

  From the corner of her eye, she saw a flash of purple. The object disappeared behind a tree before she could decipher what it was. Another flash, but pink, skittered across the ground to her left, opposite the direction she’d seen the purple-something, leaving a wake of leaves behind it.

  “Trev, someone’s out here.”

  “Jusssssssst…”

  A gnarled hand slithered around the trunk of a tree ten feet in front of her. The rough palm scraped against the trunk, loosening bark that rained down to the detritus-lined floor of the forest. The forearm came into view, giving Justine a glimpse of the charm bracelet hanging from the wrist.

  She knew that it couldn’t be, that it wasn’t possible, but there it was all the same. The heart charm twinkled in the light of the sun. Justine recognized it instantly.

  “Nana?”

  Cold hands grabbed her shoulders, shaking her. Kicking and screaming, she wrestled herself from the frigid embrace. Tripping over her own feet, she crashed into the tent.

  Darkness enveloped her as the fabric swallowed her whole. Diffused light from the morning sun filtered in, coalescing with the fabric, showing red. It seemed as though she was drowning in a pool of blood.

  Two arms broke through the crimson horror and sought purchase, but she rolled onto her stomach and scrabbled away. The hands caught her around the waist, pulling her off the ground. Her feet were placed under her as she punched at her attacker. Whatever beast it was, whatever terror had befallen her, Justine would make sure she went out with a fight.

  “Jesus, Justine, calm the fuck down!” Trevor yelled. His morning breath, thick and sour, brought her up and out of her nightmare. He had both arms wrapped around her, pinning her hands at her sides.

  “Wh-what happened?” Sweat rolled down her forehead, into her eyes.

  “Hell if I know. I was hoping you could tell me.” His blue eyes found hers, and her breathing began to return to normal. “You all right now?”

  “I don’t know.”

  He released her, and she stumbled back. He reached for her again, but she waved him off.

  “There was something calling me.”

  “Who? I was no more than five feet away from you the entire time, Justine. I didn’t hear anything.” Trevor’s eyes were scared. A shadow played over his face, and he grimaced.

  “What’s wrong?” Justine stepped forward, taking his hand in hers.

  “Just thought I heard something.”

  “What?”

  “I don’t know. Sounded like someone clicking their tongue against the roof of their mouth. Like this.”

  Only Nana Penance had called her Just. Nana had often made that same sound with her tongue, too. And the heart charm…

  Justine watched another dark patch pass over Trevor’s face. She looked up and found a roaming cloud gliding over the sun. A sigh of relief escaped her. Trevor wasn’t Throwing Shadows. Justine would have hugged him then, but all her strength had left her.

  ~ * * * ~

  Trevor packed everything while Justine got dressed. It had taken her almost half an hour to calm down. No more shadows played over Trevor’s handsome face, and she was glad. After the presence in the forest, she didn’t think she could handle any more visions.

  Nana Penance had no reason to come back and haunt her. Something else had caused the illusion. Justine knew that with all her heart. Mainly because any other explanation she’d come up with terrified her.

  “You sure you want to do this tour? I mean, we can head back into town. Just chill at the hotel. You know.” Trevor’s voice was soft. Justine could see the hesitation in his eyes, though. He didn’t want to leave, but he would. For her.

  “I’m fine. I just had a moment. All good now.” It was a little white lie, nothing that would hurt anyone. She stuffed her dirty clothes into her duffel bag, then zipped it and threw it over her shoulder.

  “Ready?” Trevor asked.

  “When you are.”

  “I just hope this tour of Waverly Chasm is all it’s cracked up to be.”

  She agreed, but no matter what, the tour would be a welcome distraction from what had just happened to her. Quietly, Justine prayed that Nana Penance didn’t make any more appearances.

  5

  “FROM THE LOWEST CLIFF OF Waverly Chasm, you can look down and never see the bottom. Some say it’s over a mile deep, but that cannot be confirmed, as no one has ever been to the bottom.”

  Jaleel Warner waited for the questions, the normal inquiries of why no one had ever bothered going down, but they never came.

  “The chasm opens up three hundred yards from here and stretches for another two miles in length. At its widest, it is seventy yards across. The road you guys came in on, Highway 607, runs east to west from Chestnut to Bay’s End. Waverly Chasm, on the other hand, runs north to south. If you were to look at this area on a satellite image, it looks like one big T, with Highway 607 the cross bar, and Waverly Chasm the stem. Any questions?”

  The morbidly obese man with the expensive camera slung around his neck was already sweating as he dug through a bag of Doritos. The cool fall breeze didn’t seem to help the perspiring man in the least. The name badge on the man’s left breast read “Mark.” Jaleel figured that was an easy enough name to remember and skipped onto the mother and son.

  Her name was Marsha, the boy’s, Lyle. The mother was attractive, possibly in her late thirties, early forties, with strawberry-blond hair and high cheekbones. Jaleel wondered if she’d been a model. Lyle looked about twelve or thirteen. When the two had first arrived, Lyle had been playing on a cell phone, working diligently on what Jaleel could only guess was a game of some sort.

  “Mr. Warner?” Lyle asked, stuffing his hands in his pockets, rocking on his heels.

  “Call me Jaleel. We like to keep things on a first name basis.”

  “Anybody ever die out here?”

  Jaleel thought for a moment. Sure, there had been accidents, but Jaleel wondered if the group really needed to know that. Sometimes, he could find the thrill seekers in the bunch. Dropping little hints to amp up the danger aspect of the trail served the entertainment factor well. The current crowd was different. They were a somber bunch, almost morose. In the end, he decided they wouldn’t appreciate the information.

  “Not that I know of,” Jaleel responded.

  “Where do we start?” That quest
ion came from the back of the group, and at first, Jaleel couldn’t tell who’d asked it.

  Marsha and Lyle parted to show a little person standing behind them. The man was just over three feet tall with an auburn beard. His nametag read “Donald.” It occurred to Jaleel that the little guy was going to have a hard time keeping up with the group. The man’s clothes looked formal and much too hot for a hiking tour. That sport coat was coming off before the trip was over, Jaleel thought before answering Donald’s question.

  “We’ll start at Fairchild Lookout, sponsored by Righteous Cola.” Jaleel didn’t like mentioning the endorsement, but the job required it. A necessary evil, one might say. That past summer, a fellow guide had been laid off when a representative—hired by Righteous for that sole purpose—reported that he had not been made aware of who sponsored the viewing station at the highest cliff of Waverly Chasm. Terrified that Righteous Cola would pull their support, the higher-ups at Pointvilla Department of Parks and Recreation had fired the man without even a warning. Jaleel figured he liked selling out more than he liked the unemployment line.

  “From there, you can see everywhere we will be heading over the next six hours.”

  “Six hours?” Mark scoffed. He licked the neon-orange chip flavoring from his fingers before adding, “Knew I should have brought more food.”

  “It’s better that you didn’t,” Jaleel said. “It’s a long hike there and back, and it’s best if you don’t have to carry too much.”

  “Least I brought the Nikon.” Mark raised the camera for everyone to see. “Should keep my mind off snacking.”

  “You sure no one has died out here?” Lyle asked again.

  “Lyle, please,” the boy’s mother said. “I’m sure he doesn’t want to talk about things like that, even if they did happen.”

  “But he asked if we had any questions.”

  “Lyle.” Her voice grew sterner. “That’s enough.”

  “Sheesh… wreck me already.” Lyle pulled his phone from his pocket, fiddling with it again.