by Ledger,John
Adrano didn’t know what to do. So he kissed her.
She let him do it for a second or two and then roughly shoved him back, looking shocked.
“Good,” he said. “Let’s hope you can focus on saving your own ass now. Come on.”
He led her – still fighting some resistance – over to the edge of the ominous pool. The nearest stone beckoned.
“The first one’s easy,” he said. “Just step over to it. Second one too.”
He glanced at the fourth stone, which was on the verge of going under.
“Hurry,” he said. “Get to that one before it goes under so you don’t have to jump the bigger gap. And just keep going…don’t look back.”
With his encouragement to bolster her nerve, Marly summoned the guts to take the first step. Then the second.
“All right, girl. You go. And keep going!”
She made the third stone. The oddly thick meniscus of “water” loomed all around the outer edges of the fourth.
“Hurry!” Adrano implored.
Marly jumped.
The stone sank beneath her foot, but only an inch or so. Displaying remarkably non-aquatic cohesion, the liquid’s meniscus merely swelled up that much higher as well. Nevertheless, Marly had been unprepared for the drop. She teetered and swayed, pivoting like a top-heavy top.
And she fell in.
She was gone in a merciful instant.
“Screw this,” Adrano said. “Screw the HELL out of this!”
In future days he would silently credit his survival to desperation and desperation alone. Silently because he never dared tell another soul about the thing in Weathers Woods.
That, of course, sounds unlikely. Why, one would ask, would someone survive such a terrible encounter only to remain mum on it for the rest of one’s days?
Why indeed.
Adrano’s freaked-out frog leaping to safety became forever ingrained into his mind. First stone, third stone – no need for the second – and then a mighty bound that brought him down on the sixth. Yes, it was already sinking as the creature reacted quickly to his surprise move. But Adrano somehow anticipated it and managed to keep his balance long enough to set his full weight on and then press back off the dropping stone again. The liquid caved in on all sides but couldn’t quite catch his departing tennis shoe tip.
And then it was stone number eight and off…and onto to the blessed safety of the shore. Or so he thought.
The pond was not ready to give up. It had apparently saved its biggest and best trick for last. As one single gelatinous blob, it rolled slowly up onto the banks of the small depression and went after its surprisingly elusive prey. Adrano didn’t even notice it until it was almost too late. Having hastened over to Janey, he was feeling for – and finding, thankfully – a pulse. He looked up just in time to see the horrid ooze bearing down on him.
Fortunately for both he and Janey, she was petite enough that he could run with her in his arms, if just barely. The retreat from Weathers Woods – stumbling, crashing, shredding through shrubbery until Crease Street blessedly appeared at last – became another indelible memory.
Still, there is the issue of why Mr. and Mrs. Melendez (Adrano eventually married partial amnesiac Janey) never told of the thing in Weathers Woods. That is indeed an odd ending to this bizarre tale.
As stated, Janey suffered some memory loss, primarily regarding the incident. Otherwise she recovered fully, but for some reason her memories didn’t include the sight of Bree dissolving inside the creature. She was convinced they’d all gone swimming and Bree drowned, and of course she had no idea what had happened to Bryce or Marly.
The strangest part was that police combed the woods thoroughly searching for missing persons and or bodies and came up empty. They found the hollow where the creature had lay for who knows how long before something intelligent with the potential to alert others had managed to elude its grasp. But other than a little actual rainwater at the bottom – murky, stagnant stuff that seemed to have been there for ages – they found no trace of “the pool.”
They did find Bree’s watch.
Had the shapeless horror escaped? If not, was it somehow still out there in Weathers Woods creeping around? Or had it actually passed silently, warily across streets and fields in search of a new natural depression in the wilderness to call home?
For a long time Adrano got chills pondering the thought that emerging onto Crease likely hadn’t put Janey and him as clear of danger as he’d figured at the time. Good thing he’d kept going. He’d walked her all the way to the hospital, in fact. Screw the cars.
To the point though: what kept Adrano’s mouth shut in perpetuity was, without doubt, the dream.
After that day he saw the pond again often. Every time he’d spend more than a moment or two debating telling someone the dream would come again The stuff would pour in through his open screen window and devour him in his bed; it would come out of the shower head in a thick stream and melt him like a wax candle under a blowtorch as loose chunks of his body fell and splatted repugnantly around his shuddering calves. It would grab him and pull him bodily down into the filled washing machine so that the machine itself appeared to be devouring him slowly.
Probably not fair to call them dreams. He had them while conscious too. Daydreams. Same monster. Same threat.
Don’t tell anyone what you saw or the next dream will be real.
Not that it would matter if he ever DID tell someone anyway: he’d told the truth before, to no greater effect than ending up spending a week as top suspect in a triple disappearance/possible homicide case that would, in fact, never be solved.
Don’t tell anyone what you saw or the next dream will be REAL.
Was it Adrano’s own mind from whence this came? Permanent echoes of an impossible afternoon of horror? Perhaps. But not likely. After all, he remained otherwise sane in every way. And functional too, just like Janey, except for the scrambled memory.
People disappear. That’s the long and short of it.
But the reasons certainly vary quite widely.
Accident. Name/identity change. Abduction. Slave and sex trades.
And in a universe as vast and mind-boggling as this one, the odds are not that ridiculously against an oddly-fated few of us being eaten by hungry stranded aliens.
LAKE BOWIE
Richard D. Ramsey
Jeremy watched as the murky lake water began to recede. It eddied around his boots, making small bits of foam before rushing out to the center of the lake. The lanterns, held up by his group, reflected on the surface of the water and winked out one by one as Lake Bowie receded and left nothing but muddy bank.
They’re doing this. They’re really doing this.
“It looks like it’s go time,” Scott said softly as he stepped up beside his best friend. He chambered a slug in his twelve-gauge. The clack-clack of his shotgun echoed off the surface of the otherwise peaceful lake.
“We’re really doing this, aren’t we?” Jeremy didn’t need to look at Scott for his friend to know he was directing the question at him.
“Yeah, I never thought we’d be here either. I just never believed it. Even now, I’m not sure I do, but I made an oath.”
“We all made an oath. That’s why we’re here. Let’s walk.”
Jeremy and Scott began to walk away from the group. A few started to follow, but he stopped them. “We just need to discuss a few things, we’ll be right back. I promise I won’t go beyond the capacity of your lanterns.”
They stepped through the mud until they were well out of earshot of even the most astute listener. The lakebed here was soft, but not slippery. In the shallows this part had been exposed to air before in very dry summers when the level was low. Still, minor pockets of methane had started opening up, surrounding them with the stench of decay.
Scott gestured back to the group. His time as a marine was still evident in his body language and the way he spoke. His mannerisms were sharp and he spoke with a
very regimental rhythm. He even kept his head shaved, but he sported a little goatee since coming home from Iraq. The group he was pointing at was what was left of the Oathkeepers: a ragtag group of rednecks and slackers that scared him almost as much as what they were about to face. There were easily thirty of them and only about a dozen with firearms and ammunition. “Do you think they’re ready for this?
Jeremy shook his head. “No, but we don’t have a choice. I fought it as long as I could, but evidently Army Corp of Engineers trumps Parks and Recreation, even a Chief Ranger.”
“Fucking army guys. I hate army. I thought you had that congressman on your side, Bal-what’s his name.”
“Balinsky? He put in a good word, but this isn’t even his district.”
“And all this is for a plant?”
Jeremy rubbed his chin. He normally kept himself well shaven, but he could feel a couple of days worth of stubble there. “Yeah. They showed up in my office about two weeks ago with issues about greater salvinia. It’s an invasive species that covers the surface and depletes the oxygen levels in the water. We’ve been trying to get it under control for years, but it keeps cropping back up. Their final solution was to drain the lake and starve it out. These idiots have no idea what they’re getting themselves into.”
Scott chuckled. “They have no idea what an ‘invasive species’ really is. So, what’s the plan?”
Jeremy placed his right hand on the butt of the pistol still in his holster and pointed with his left. “Guy Sterling, Mike Booth, and Bubba Forse are all avid hunters. They’ll be your best guys. The others that are armed are your NRA guys and weekend shooters. Not a great shot, but they know their way around a firearm. I made sure that the ones I didn’t trust with a gun didn’t have one. They’re carrying lanterns and at least a machete for last defense.”
“Do we know how many of those things there are down there?”
“I have no idea. I don’t even know if there’ll be one. You know, when I was little and my Pop told me about this, I never really believed it. My parents didn’t, they tried to keep him from telling me. It goes against everything I’ve ever learned, but I can’t not be here. You know, you’re the one with urban warfare experience. You should be telling me what to do.”
Jeremy could see Scott shuffle in the darkness. He knew the last thing his friend wanted was to be reminded of Faluja, but those skills were about to come in very handy. “We should divide up into two teams. I’ll take one, you take the other. We’ll stay together until we reach the town. When we do, I’ll take east, you take west. Man, it’s darker than I thought.”
Jeremy looked up. The moon was well out of sight and the Milky Way cut a jagged scar across the night sky. Beyond the scope of the lanterns, the only thing visible was the tree line on the banks of the lake where it cut into the stars. “There’s no more time to waste. The water’s receding faster than I thought.”
Together they walked back to the group of Oathkeepers. A murmur of worried voices and sobs was louder than it should have been on such a quiet night. These people were not ready for this. There were way too many sales clerks, meth-heads, and couch potatoes involved with this for it to be safe. It was a sad reflection of the brave men and women who first built the damn and created Lake Bowie to keep the evil from spreading. Their grandparents and great-grandparents had done their part in teaching their children its secrets, but most of them had done a poor job keeping themselves ready. “Hey, ya’ll. I don’t need to tell ya’ll why we’re here or what we’re about to face. I think the town is close by here, that’s why I picked this spot. I’ll take a group, and Scott’ll take a group. Those of you with lights, keep them held high so the shooters can see. Shooters, stay on the periphery of the lanterns. We made an oath! Now, let’s do this!” Their boots made a sloshing sound as the group marched out into the lakebed.
“Wait!” It was Father Stammond’s unmistakable voice. He stepped out from the crowd with his lantern held high above his head. The light caught his wide eyes and white hair that contrasted against his black skin. No one had ever heard this man’s voice quiver until tonight. “We need to have a prayer before we go.”
Jeremy looked around. This would be the last time many of them would have this chance. “Okay, but make it quick. The water’s receding fast.”
The group made a circle and joined hands. Stammond led them. “The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death….”
He paused and swallowed. “And, Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me. Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will….”
He didn’t get a chance to finish before he was interrupted by flashing red and blue lights from the bank accompanied by the familiar, brief whoop of a police siren. A series of spotlights clicked on and highlighted the group. They all rose one arm up to keep from being blinded and looked in that direction. Jeremy could see the silhouette of Sheriff Landon walking over to them.
“Ranger! You need to stand down!” His rich baritone voice was unmistakable. He slipped a little in the mud, but kept walking.
“When you cross that bank, you’re on federal land, Sherriff. You just stepped out of your jurisdiction. I don’t have time for this, let’s go.”
A shot rang out across the lake and echoed off of the far end. “This is still my county and I won’t have a half crazed mob with this much firepower loose in it.” He finally reached Jeremy and stood closer than he would have liked. The sheriff was taller than the ranger by at least a head and he used every inch of his size for intimidation with good effect.
Jeremy took a step back. “We don’t have time for this, Mike. If you want to stop us, you’re just going to have to arrest us all.”
Landon looked around at the group standing before him. In unison, they raised their lanterns and cocked their weapons. Maybe they would do well after all. In the darkness, Jeremy could see the sheriff slump his shoulders. Two deputies were still standing up on the bank. He couldn’t tell which ones they were against the spotlights, but he could see that they had their guns drawn. Landon was easily outnumbered and it was evident that a show of power was not going to help him here. “Just what in the hell is going on here?”
Scott stepped in and confronted the sheriff. He was as tall as Landon, if not taller, and able to meet him eye to eye. “We can’t tell you that, but we can promise that we’re not out here to commit a crime. My God, Mike. We played football together. Jeremy was at your wedding. Hell, Stammond baptized both of you children! Do you think we’re your enemy?”
The sheriff looked out amongst the crowd and sighed. “Okay, but whatever you’re doing, I’m going with you. Don’t try and tell me to stop. I’ll not have a massacre under my watch.”
Jeremy adjusted the two rifles strapped across his back, pulled his pistol from its holster, and racked the slide. “Lock and load, sheriff. All of your worst nightmares are about to come true.”
Without waiting for a response, Jeremy turned and marched out into the darkness. Beyond the scope of the lanterns, a darkness that was blacker than anything he had ever seen was poised and ready to swallow him up.
People spoke and cried behind him, but he tuned the noise out. Scott shuffled up and matched his step on his right and the sheriff finally caught up with him on his left. Jeremy turned his head in that direction and spoke. “Sheriff, there used to be a town down here called Nebo Valley.” The smell of decay and methane was growing stronger as they walked out to the center of the lake. The ground here had not been exposed to air for fifty years, it was soft and slippery. Pockets of gas rose up with each an
d every step they took.
“I know, I do live here, you know.”
“When we get to it, I’m taking a group to the west side, and Scott is covering east. You and your deputies go north and fire on anything that comes at you.”
Landon grabbed Jeremy by the shoulder and stopped him. “I don’t believe a thing I’m hearing! I ain’t shooting innocent people! Enough of this pussy-footing around. You tell me what’s going on right here and now or I swear to God I’ll…”
The sudden shotgun blast interrupted the sheriff and caught them all off guard. The lanterns started crowding around something to their right like moths to a flame. Jeremy put his gun in the ready position and jogged across the slick lake bed. The crowd had all gathered around an alligator, or what had once been an alligator. It was swollen and it scaly skin bulged and split in various places. It had wounds like small bite marks all across its face and front legs and one of its eyes was missing, a yellow fluid draining out of the empty socket. Midway down its back, the rest of its body was missing. A trail of flesh like pale, white streamers hung out behind it. Voices wafted up out of the group of Oathkeepers.
“What the hell?”
“Good God, you shot its body off!”
“I didn’t even hit it!”
As if on cue, the alligator lurched forward on its front legs and snapped its jaws. Scott rapidly put the butt of his twelve-gauge to his shoulder and unloaded a slug into its head. The muzzle flash shone bright in the dark and the rapport left a ring in Jeremy’s ears.
Jeremy could see the sheriff in the dim lantern light with his mouth agape. The color had drained from his face and he had grown whiter than a fish’s belly. “What was that?”
Jeremy stepped up in front of him. “That, sheriff, is a zombie! Aim for the head and don’t waste a shot!”
Landon shook his head. “Uh-uh. Bullshit.”
Before anyone had time to respond, a shriek pierced the night, and again, lanterns went up in unison to shed light on the source. Guy Sterling was standing at the edge of the group, screaming. His cap, which few had ever seen him remove, fell to the ground and a river of fresh blood was trailing down his white t-shirt. Something had grabbed him from behind and was biting his shoulder! Jeremy couldn’t believe his eyes. He had heard the stories but never believed it until now. The thing that was attacking him used to be a man, but grey skin hung down off of its face like loose fitting clothes, and patches of it were missing, exposing the skull underneath. Four shots rang out from the crowd, some hitting the beast and one hitting Guy.