Serpentine

by Napier, Barry

  Joe got to his feet, lake water splashing into his mouth. He reached out for Valerie and took her by the hand without thinking about it. He helped her to her feet and they once again started back towards the field.

  As they made their way up the large concrete slab, Joe chanced a look back. What he saw drew a scream up in his throat but he was too terrified to let it out.

  The thing had come mostly out of the water. It did look like a snake, but not like any snake Joe had ever seen. It was at least six or seven feet long and three feet across. Its skin looked to be rough on top, and white and soft underneath. He was able to see underneath the creature clearly as it raised the top half of its body. It reared back in a way that made Joe think of rubber, and then it lunged forward. In the split second that its underside was exposed, Joe saw a series of weird pucker-like things along its underside, but they paled in comparison to the slimy mouth that opened wide as it sprang towards him.

  Joe’s instincts hit a gear in his heart and mind that he didn’t even know existed. Seeing the thing darting forward, he pushed Valerie to the left and followed after her with a panic-fueled leap into the weeds. The creature had been so close to striking Joe’s leg that he could feel lake water spraying off of its body as it sailed towards him.

  Valerie cried out as Joe landed hard on her leg. Joe again found himself tangled up in her arms and legs as they both scrambled back up to their feet. Joe found Valerie’s hand, took it, and started to back further into the weeds behind them.

  “Where is it?” Valerie asked in a frightened whisper.

  Joe looked frantically around but couldn’t see it. He supposed they were in a decent position to see the creature before it saw them, though; if it came barreling towards them, they’d see a clear indentation in the weeds, coming towards them. They stood quietly, roughly ten feet into the weeds. One of the old speedboats sat a few yards to their right, sitting on blocks.

  In the quiet, Joe heard loons and the same owl that he had heard asking its ageless question as he had come down Kerr Lane by himself. But there was something else, too…something closer.

  He could hear the thing moving, slithering along the ground in front of the boat ramp. In his mind’s eye, he could still see the soft white underside of the thing as it had struck at them. The sound it made as it moved seemed to match that vision perfectly.

  Valerie stepped closer to him, holding on to his arm. He felt her trembling, which was a feat in and of itself because he was shaking like a leaf, too. They both looked over the weeds, hoping to catch a glimpse of it.

  That’s when the weeds at the edge of the field started leaning in. They started falling slowly in a perfect path, directly towards them. Joe felt the muscles in his legs bunching up, wanting to run but soaked in fear and apparently immobile.

  The moving path drew closer and closer, the slithering noise mingling with the dry scratchy sound of the weeds falling. Joe watched the path grow and suddenly felt the fear in his legs evaporate. He was ready to haul ass, to head back to Kerr Lane and hope they could outrun the thing.

  The moving path in the weeds ahead of them came to a stop.

  Time seemed to freeze as Joe and Valerie stared at the area where the creature had been sliding towards them. After a few seconds of silence, the sound of slithering and breaking weeds reached their ears again. Only this time, the sound was growing fainter. Another path broke out in the weeds directly by the first one, heading back towards the ramp.

  Joe felt Valerie relaxing a bit beside him but noticed that she still held his arm. They stood motionless until the sound of slithering was gone completely. Joe strained his ears and was pretty sure he heard the moment when the thing made its way back into the water, easing in quickly but quietly.

  “It’s gone,” he said.

  “What the hell was it?” Valerie asked, her voice close to hysteria. Her hand traveled down his arm and found his hand. Joe took it, their hands interlacing.

  “I don’t know,” Joe said.

  Still holding her hand, he led her away from the woods by the ramp, heading further into the overgrowth that led back towards the dirt road. She went with him and although he was still shaking in terror, he realized that this was the first time he had led her anywhere. It felt good in a prideful way, but it also made him feel terribly lost.

  “Did you see it?” she asked.

  “Yeah. It looked like…I don’t know. A mix between a snake and a slug. But it was too big to be either one.”

  He also recalled that slimy-coated black maw of a mouth but he decided to not terrify her with that bit of information.

  When they reached the top of the field again, Valerie sat down heavily, as if exhausted. Joe sat down beside her. Somewhere along the way, he had released her hand but he sat so close to her that their legs were touching. They looked out towards the lake and said nothing.

  “I’m going to ask a stupid question,” Joe said.

  “Yeah?”

  “Is that some weird ass animal that’s supposed to live in a lake?”

  “I don’t think so,” Valerie answered. “That thing was more like a monster or something. Right?”

  Joe nodded. He wanted very badly to get the hell away from there but didn’t want to sound too scared. Besides…whatever that thing had been, it was gone. It had apparently needed to return to the water. Maybe it was like a fish, in that it needed to be underwater to breathe.

  “Maybe we should get back home,” Valerie said, echoing Joe’s thought. “I need to try to hide these wet clothes.”

  “Same here,” Joe said, wondering how he was going to get this past his parents.

  “And that thing,” Valerie said. “We can’t tell anyone, can we? We’d get in trouble.”

  “Yeah,” Joe agreed. “It would be like turning ourselves in to our folks.”

  This knowledge sat between them, heavy and as tangible as the fireflies that continued to dance around them, unaware of the horrors that had occurred under their specks of orange light.

  “Come on,” Valerie said, standing up and offering her hand again.

  Joe took it and felt her still trembling. He used what courage he had left (most having been drained by the thing that had come out of the water for them) and interlocked his fingers through hers again. She gave his hand a squeeze and started walking. There was speed in their step as they left the field and the old speedboats behind.

  “You okay?” Joe asked as they stepped back onto Kerr Lane.

  “Yeah. Just…shaken up. I don’t see myself sleeping tonight. Or tomorrow.”

  “Same here,” he said, trying not to sound as terrified as he really was.

  When they neared Valerie’s cabin, she stopped and faced him. The night seemed to grow still around them, even the owls and loons falling quiet for a moment.

  “Thanks,” she said. “If you hadn’t pushed me down, that thing…,”

  “It’s okay,” he said as she trailed off.

  They stood facing one another in silence, looking at each other with a pointed aloofness that only teenagers that have not yet had their hearts broken are capable of. Joe wanted to kiss her and he was pretty sure that she would let him if he tried. But the gravity of the situation was off. They were both still filled with a terror that had not yet worn off. Joe fought the intense urge to take that one step forward and put his mouth on hers and, instead, gave her hand a playful squeeze.

  “You got a phone?” he asked.

  “Yeah. Dad finally let me have one for my last birthday.”

  “Will you text me tomorrow? Just to let me know you’re okay?”

  “Yeah, of course.”

  They pulled out their phones and exchanged numbers. As he entered her number, Joe realized that it was the first time a girl had ever given him her number.

  “How about we meet tomorrow at the shed?” he suggested when their numbers had been exchanged.

  “I have no idea what Dad has planned tomorrow,” she said. “So I don’t know what ti
me.”

  “Just show up,” Joe said. “I’ll be there. I’ll wait. Or text me.”

  “I think I’d rather show up,” she said. “The mystery of it all is really cool.”

  “Yeah, I think so, too.”

  She smiled at him and Joe released her hand, not sure how much longer he could resist himself. He was surprised when she leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek.

  “Thanks for meeting me tonight,” she said. “And, you know, saving my life.”

  He could only smile in response. “Good night,” he said.

  She headed towards her cabin and Joe watched her go.

  When he headed back to his own cabin, the loons, crickets, owls and other night creatures seemed more pronounced. The forest seemed alive. And although most of the sounds were pleasant, Joe couldn’t help but hear that slithering noise in his head, the sound of some unnamable creature from the dark waters of the lake that had sprung up on the shore to devour him.

  FOURTEEN

  Ted Wylerman parked his service truck in the driveway of one of the more luxurious homes that sat on Clarkton Lake and instantly felt depressed. The cabin was owned by the Carter family, one of the wealthiest in the area. They rented their home out from time to time when they spent months overseas in Paris or London or wherever the hell they vacationed when they got tired of the beautiful lake view offered from their enormous back deck.

  The weekly rent for the cabin was more than Ted’s monthly mortgage payment. He knew this because he had inquired about it as a goof last summer. Looking at the house, Ted simply didn’t understand how someone could put so much money into a home: the pretentious trees by the front stoop that looked like something out of Alice in Wonderland, the big marble C over the front door, and the elaborate stone walkways that led to a porch that was twice the size of Ted’s bedroom.

  He knew no one was home. The Carters had headed out two days ago, lining up wealthy renters that were scheduled to come in tomorrow. He knew all of this because Mr. Carter had told him so three days ago when he had visited Ted’s office and asked to have his floating dock fixed.

  Ted cast a glance beyond the immaculately cared-for lawn and to the elegant pier that stretched twenty-five feet into the water. The dock sat at the end of it, looking bare without the Carter’s speedboat and pontoon boat anchored to either side. Ted took the sidewalk that wound around to the back of the house. There were three sidewalks, all leading around the property and connecting in the back at the huge grilling porch. With each step, Ted wondered how much spent money he was passing…from the landscaping to the stone walkways.

  Working on properties like this always depressed him. He knew the Carters fairly well and knew that Mr. Carter was some sort of hotshot professor that wrote books and was hired to give lectures. Mrs. Carter was some sort of online savant and had a very successful graphic design company that she ran out of her very large house.

  Good for them, Ted often thought. But of course, he didn’t mean it. Despite the hard feelings, Ted was the sort of man that had no problem owning up to his own shortcomings. Rather than attend college, he had partied in nearby towns, smoked too much pot, and got fired from too many part-time jobs. The way he saw it, he was lucky to be the assistant manager at Dock Doctors, one of only two dock-repair companies in the large lakeside community that thrived in Clarkton.

  It was, for the most part, easy work. Based on what Mr. Carter had told him about the dock, this would be a repair that Mr. Carter could have probably done himself. But why do it yourself when you could afford someone else to do it? It was a luxury that Ted knew he’d never have, but he supposed he understood it.

  He crossed the back yard and came to the small pier. Like the house, it had been designed to look like something from a much more pristine location. The posts nearly looking Roman and the wood along the pier and the dock had been recently sanded and stained. Beyond that, it looked like a miniature model of the long fishing piers at the beach. Benches sat to both sides in two different locations, along with cute wooden tables affixed to the pier.

  Ted reached the end of the pier and came to the dock. Mr. Carter had said that it was lopsided, the right end dipping into the water at an angle that had nearly caused him to lose his balance and fall into the water on a few occasions. As he stood fully on it, Ted saw that he hadn’t been exaggerating. The angle was harsh and any movement on the dock seemed to send the right side of the dock dipping into the water.

  Ted’s first thought was that one of the float barrels underneath was in need of repair. This would be an expensive fix, which was great for business, but it would also be a pain in the ass. Most fixes were relatively simple and could be fixed with a special kind of Styrofoam. These jobs were often way overcharged, but the customer was always happy with the quick repair time.

  Based on the angle of the dock’s dip, Ted was pretty sure this wasn’t going to be the case. He was going to have to get in the water to check it out, something he had been hoping to avoid when coming out to the Carter residence.

  Just to make sure, he lay down on the right edge of the dock, carefully hugging the side so he didn’t fall in from the tilt. His two hundred pounds caused the dock to dip down even more on the right side, making it a bit awkward to stick his hand in the water and try to feel along the base of the barrels submerged in the water. He had to extend his arm all the way, his shoulder stretching over the side of the dock, to securely rest his hand on the curved surface of the flotation barrel.

  He ran his hand along the side, not feeling any obvious dents or holes. He knew this meant nothing, as even the smallest of dings could slowly let in enough water to cause the sort of unbalanced position the dock was currently in.

  Ted inched his way along the side of the ramp, running his hand along the barrel underwater, feeling for any sort of fault in it. As he neared the center of it, he thought he felt a sizable dent but could not find any puncture with his fingers. He felt around a bit longer, making a note of the location.

  He moved on, heading to the far end of the dock, still crawling along on his stomach with his right arm submerged in the water.

  When he felt something wrap around his arm, it happened so fast that he wasn’t aware of what had happened until he felt himself being pulled forward.

  He cried out as he fell from the dock and into the water. The scream was promptly cut off by a mouthful of lake water. He slapped out his free hand, trying to grab onto the dock, but he was being pulled under too fast. All his fingers managed to touch was the slimy underside of one of the barrels.

  He tried pulling his arm free of whatever had it, but it was useless. He could feel whatever it was coiling around his upper arm, climbing up it and tightening its grip at the same time. He slapped at the thing, trying to find purchase. And through it all, he did his best to make sense of what was happening while not choking on the lake water that was going down his throat.

  Could it be a snake? A huge snake?

  It was a possibility, but he was pretty sure a snake would have tried biting him rather than wrapping up his arm and pulling him under.

  He was able to grab on to part of the thing’s body as it continued to pull him down and away from the dock, but the body was slippery and he couldn’t dig his nails in.

  Then, just as he realized that he was running out of breath, Ted’s feet touched the bottom of the lake. It felt spongy through his shoes and it was difficult to gain much traction. Still, the moment he felt this, he dug his toes in as best as he could and pushed himself forward against the force of the thing that was pulling at him.

  He glided forward and upwards easily enough and the sudden surge in his momentum apparently caught his attacker off guard because its grip loosened for just a moment. Sensing this, Ted pulled his arm away and instantly started swimming for the surface. He was sure that at any moment, the thing would wrap around him again. He did feel it reaching out for him, something soft yet insistent slapping at his back.

  Ted swam
faster, his lungs burning and his guts on fire with fear. When he broke the surface, he found himself only two feet away from the Carter’s lopsided dock. He took two huge swimming lunges for it, sucking in air in a huge gulp. When his hand landed on the wood, he jerked himself up at once.

  He was halfway out of the water when he felt a vice-like grip on his waist. It jerked him down, but he kept his grip on the dock, pulling up and screaming in pain.

  The thing was squeezing him tight, continuing to tighten and pull against him like the Indian Burns he had been given as a kid in grade school. He felt something dig into his back, tearing through his shirt and slicing into his flesh. He screamed, still trying to pull himself away.

  But then he felt the thing slap at the side of his face. It reached around, caressing his head for just a moment before latching on with the same force it was applying to his waist and back.

  Before the thing clamped down on his head, he saw a dirty white color that was broken by what looked like brown-tinged suction cups. He had just enough time to think of octopi and squids before the white became black, covering his eyes and squeezing.

  Ted tried to scream but the tentacle was already over his mouth. It squeezed at his head while he continued trying to pull himself up onto the dock. It was squeezing harder now, hard enough to where Ted was certain that a few of his ribs had broken. But that pain was nothing compared to the pressure he felt in his head as he felt himself giving up, the muscles in his arms no longer able to pull at the dock for safety.

  When the thing squeezed harder at his head, his jaw shattered and several teeth splintered and cracked. Again, he tried to scream, but there was nothing. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move…

  He let go of the dock, unable to fight anymore.

  Before he went completely under, the pressure against his head became too much.

  There was a crunch and a wet popping sound that left the side of the Carter’s dock covered in blood and chunks of grey matter.

  These remnants, left to dry and rot in the summer sun, were the only traces of Ted Wylerman anyone would ever find.