Fishing in Brains for an Eye with Teeth (Thirteen Tales of Terror)

by William Markly O'Neal

  Kyle said, “I think you’re all in on it, trying to freak me out.”

  Drake grinned. “Fucking A, college boy. And it worked too, huh? You look pretty freaked to me.”

  Tom said, “Come on,” and began to climb the fence. The others followed his lead.

  After they all made it across the fence and had walked only a few yards, they saw the deer.

  Drake waved everyone back, whispering, “This one’s mine!” He raised his gun. Holding his rifle steady, the deer in his sights, Drake took another step forward, trying to be quiet, but he stepped on a branch that snapped loudly.

  The deer, a tall fat doe, looked up at Drake.

  Drake froze, standing stock-still, his finger resting against the trigger.

  The deer continued to look at him, chewing on a mouthful of grass.

  Tom said in a low voice, “It’ll just stand there, dude.”

  Muttering, “No way,” Drake took another step forward. He was tense, ready to shoot the moment the animal bolted.

  But it didn’t bolt. It dipped its head down to pull another mouthful of grass.

  As the doe watched Drake, Drake crept forward. Finally, when he was less than a hundred yards away from it, the deer’s ears twitched, as if it heard something.

  Drake opened a hole between its big dull eyes.

  “HOLY FUCK!” he shouted, as the animal collapsed to the ground. He whirled on his friends. “Did you see that?”

  “What’d I tell ya?” said Roger.

  Kyle was in awe. “I don’t fucking believe it.” Seeing the enormous amount of blood spilling out of the deer, he looked away, his stomach lurching.

  The guys gathered around the dead deer.

  “This is crazy!”

  “Fuckin-A, dude.”

  “Fucking looney tunes.”

  “Did you see how close I got?”

  “Fuck, man, that squirrel that came up to me? It was only a couple feet away when I pinged it.”

  It was Kyle who got them moving again. “I wanna see the cove.”

  “Yeah,” Drake agreed.

  So Tom, Roger, and John led them to the clearing by the lake.

  The scene quietly awaiting them was surreal.

  There were two more deer standing in the glen, another female and a huge buck with a five-point rack. The buck stood easily six feet tall and when it held its proud head aloft, its antlers added another two feet to its height. Both deer saw the five men and neither animal so much as flinched.

  Not far from the two living deer was a dead one, lying in a pool of blood. The grasses here were long but not high. The entire clearing had been trampled flat by hooves and paws.

  In addition to the deer, there were also the carcasses of a fat raccoon, an even fatter possum, and a wolf nearly as big as a Great Dane.

  Now it was Kyle’s turn to exclaim, “Is that a fucking wolf?”

  “Damn straight,” said John.

  Kyle was shaking his head with disbelief. Near the dead wolf was a live skunk, just sitting there looking at them, like some kind of striped watch dog. “This is weird.”

  “We gotta stay here,” Drake said immediately. “We gotta move camp.”

  Roger stepped closer to Drake, after casting a nervous look at the still lake. “That’s an awful lot of work, man. We’re already set up— ”

  John interrupted him, saying, “What’s the matter, Lunkhead? Afraid Injun Joe will get ya?”

  Tom and Drake laughed.

  Roger drew out his negative: “Nooooooooooo, but— I mean— I just don’t know why we can’t hunt here and then go back to John’s place to sleep.” It was John’s grandfather’s land but all the guys were in the habit of calling it ‘John’s place.’

  Drake told Roger, “We can’t go back to John’s place to sleep.”

  “Why not?”

  Drake flashed a grin. “Because then we might miss our chance to see Injun Joe!”

  Immediately a “But!” spurted from Roger’s mouth but then he stopped, as what Drake said sank in. Clearly Roger didn’t know how to react to the notion that Drake wanted to see the ghost.

  Tom had taken out a blunt and fired it up. He passed the weed to Drake and said through smoke, “You don’t really believe in ghosts, do ya, Lunkhead?”

  “Well. . . no!” He looked at the deer, who continued to look calmly back. A couple of huge jack rabbits hopped leisurely out of the woods. “But you gotta admit, this is weird.”

  Drake passed the joint to John, saying, “You don’t think your grandfather would—” He broke off his own sentence, shaking his head.

  John asked, “What? Build a fence around this woods and stock it with giant mutant animals?”

  Both Kyle and Tom laughed at this, Tom so hard he was soon coughing smoke. As he exhaled his own hit and passed the blunt on, John said sarcastically, “Yeah. I think that’s likely.”

  “I don’t know,” said Tom. “Your granddad was pretty strange, man. I swear he believed the Legend was true.”

  “Tell me about it,” said John. “As crazy as it sounds, I do think he believes the legend. He was always so serious about it. Remember how we used to have to sneak out here? He never wanted us going anywhere near this place.”

  “That’s probably because the hunting here is so damn good!” Drake laughed. “Your granddad was no dummy. He wanted to keep this place for himself!”

  “That and he just liked scaring little kids,” said Roger sullenly.

  John snickered and Tom teased, “Awww! I think Lunkhead’s holding a grudge.”

  John and Tom chuckled.

  Roger flipped Tom off.

  Drake was looking at the rabbits, who were hopping slowly right toward them. “Who knows? Maybe grandpa Womack was telling the truth… about some of it, anyways. Just look at this place!” He gestured excitedly, and then gave Roger a serious look. “Whatever’s going on here, I’m not about to miss it!”

  They talked about it some more as they finished up the joint but the decision had already been made by Drake.

  They would spend the night in this clearing.

  Just as they were about to leave the area to go get their things from John’s grandfather’s land, Tom stopped them. “Look,” he said, pointing to the north.

  The young men looked and saw a big black cat creeping into the clearing, stalking the rabbits, which were now munching lazily on some clover. Crouched low, the cat moved haltingly toward its prey.

  Tom pointed again. “It’s wearing a collar.”

  The guys understood this wasn’t a feral cat. It was obviously someone’s pet.

  When it was finally close to the rabbits, the cat suddenly ran and pounced on one of them. The boys watched, fascinated, as the cat sank claws and teeth into the bunny. The rabbit threw back its head, as if in a silent scream, but it did only minimal thrashing. The cat rolled around so it could grab the rabbit with all four claws as it plunged fangs into the creature’s neck.

  Now it was John’s turn to point, “Look at the other one!”

  The second jackrabbit clearly saw the cat attack its partner but didn’t seem the slightest bit afraid. It continued to chomp on some choice grass, and then slowly hopped away, headed back toward the woods.

  Meanwhile, the cat finished off its bunny. An enormous amount of blood streamed through the bent grasses.

  “Holy fuck!” exclaimed Roger. “Did you see that?”

  They all did.

  John muttered, “What the fuck is going on with these animals?”

  Drake slowly shook his head, indicating he didn’t know.

  Tom, forever the druggie, theorized, “Maybe they got into some magic mushrooms or something.” He wasn’t serious but Drake seemed to think he was.

  Drake’s mouth crinkled until it looked like string candy. “Something! Maybe it’s in the water. Maybe there’s, like, some natural sedative or something they’re getting into.” He looked at Kyle.

  Suddenly they were all staring at Kyle.

&nbs
p; Kyle shook his head. “Don’t look at me, guys! I can’t explain it. I suppose they could be exposed to something that’s making them lethargic . . . but it would almost have to be in the water in order to affect so many different species.”

  They continued to watch the cat. The tabby was still holding on to the rabbit, even though the bunny was most assuredly dead.

  “Come on,” Drake said, breaking the spell. “It’s going to be dark soon.”

  They headed back to break camp.

  Roger did a fair amount of complaining, as they struck the tent near the old burnt-out cabin. “This is a hellava lot of work for nothing. I don’t know why we just can’t stay here tonight.”

  Drake talked to him as if he was a five-year-old. “We can’t stay here because if we do, we’ll never know if Injun Joe shows up, will we?”

  Tom’s brow furrowed; he looked at Drake like he’d lost his mind. “You really don’t expect to see a ghost tonight, do ya?”

  “Nope,” said Drake. “But I never expected to see a rabbit that wasn’t scared of a cat, either! Or a deer that just stands there and lets you shoot it!”

  Kyle acted almost as if he didn’t hear them. He was deep in thought. “I suppose it could be some kind of plant or something they’re getting into. Some kind of, yeah, natural sedative or something that dulls their reaction time. I haven’t heard of anything like that but, hell, I’m only a Sophomore. It’s not like I know that much about toxicology yet. I suppose it could be some kind of plant.”

  John asked Kyle, “What about the wolf?”

  Kyle was bewildered for a moment. “What?”

  “The wolf. We shot a wolf and it was every bit as willing to die as the others. Since when do wolves eat plants?”

  Drake offered, “Well, maybe the wolf ate the other animals with the sedative in their systems and contracted it from them.” He looked at Kyle.

  Kyle shook his head. “Don’t ask me, dawgs! I’ve never heard of anything like this in my entire life!”

  Roger’s face was dark as he said, “Yes, you have.”

  Kyle was confused. “What?”

  “You have too heard of something like this.” He lowered his voice as he said, “Injun Joe.”

  Tom snickered and Drake laughed.

  But then the guys quieted, all of them lost to their own thoughts.

  They were unable to use the dollies this time; there was no trail and the underbrush was brutal. They realized they needed to make two trips to move everything to the new site.

  When they arrived back at the clearing between Bountiful Woods and Bullet Lake, the Fearless Five received another little shock.

  “Holy fuck,” said John. He was the first to see.

  Dropping what they were carrying, the five of them hurried over to the corpse of the cat.

  The clearing was vacant now. There were no more lazy beasts milling about.

  The dead feline wasn’t far from the dead rabbit it killed. John was the first to notice, “There’s no blood.”

  They all stared at the dead cat. Roger wanted to know, “How is that even possible? What killed it?”

  Three of them thought the same thought but it was Tom who voiced it, “It looks almost like it was scared to death.”

  The creature’s eyes did appear to be bulging and its mouth was wide open, its dead tongue lolling. It appeared as if it had died screaming.

  “Nah, that’s not possible. Something must have killed it.”

  “Like what?”

  “How the fuck should I know?”

  “Maybe the animals are poisoned. Maybe there’s something in their blood and—”

  “What? It kills cats?”

  Again they looked to Kyle and again he told them he had no answers.

  The cat was wearing a black collar with a stainless steel tag on it in the shape of a cat’s paw. They all were thinking the same thing, This animal belongs to someone, and John made a bad joke. “Well, somebody’s going to be saving money on Little Friskies from now on.”

  Roger squatted down next to the cat. “It really does look scared.”

  John chuckled as he said, “Yeah, a regular fraidy cat.”

  “So what do you think scared it?”

  Drake slapped Roger’s shoulder. “Don’t you dare say Injun Joe!”

  Tom and John laughed. Kyle suddenly turned away from the carcass, striding purposely back toward the beer cooler.

  Seeing where he was headed, Drake said, “Cainer has the right idea. Time for another round.” Kyle’s last name was Cain but Drake generally liked adding an ‘er.’

  After grabbing more beer and smoking another blunt, the guys trekked through the forest to get the rest of their stuff. The sun was nearly gone; the shadows were deepening. The first fireflies were warming up their luminous tails.

  When the Fearless Five returned again to the clearing beside Bullet Lake, all the carcasses of the animals were gone.

  “What the fuck?”

  “All right,” said Kyle. “This is getting profoundly creepy.”

  John seemed to be looking everywhere at once. “Something drug the bodies into the woods, right?”

  “Are you insane?” Roger shouted. “That deer was as big as a buffalo! Nothing around here is going to be big enough to drag it into the woods!”

  Tom was grinning. “What about giant mutant bears? They’d be big enough.”

  Roger said, “I don’t fucking believe this!”

  In a quiet, even tone, Kyle said, “Ya know . . . if we were in a horror movie, this is the point where everybody in the audience would be screaming, ‘Get Out!’”

  Tom nudged Kyle with his elbow. “Bullshit.” He waited for Kyle to look at him before he added, “We already passed that point when he found the dead cat.”

  Drake chuckled. “Come on, guys. Get a fucking grip. You don’t suppose . . ?”

  Both Tom and John asked together, “What?”

  Drake shrugged. “I was just wondering if someone was fucking with us. Maybe Doofus and his crew?” ‘Doofus’ was Billy Douvis, an old enemy of theirs from high school. Douvis and his three friends were bullies, the kind of boys who would have intimidated and assaulted guys like Tom and Kyle, if they didn’t have friends like Drake, John, and Roger to protect them.

  Kyle immediately shot holes in this theory. “In the first place, Doofus isn’t smart enough to come up with an idea like this. And second of all, even if he could dream up something this elaborate, he’s too lazy to do this much work! What? You honestly think Doofus and his goons are gonna come back here, capture and drug all these animals, and then drag off the dead carcasses, all just to scare us?”

  Drake said good-naturedly, “Well, when you put it like that. . . .”

  Roger suddenly said, “If the bodies were drug off, why aren’t there trails of blood?”

  They all looked again and saw Roger was right. While there were still large puddles of blood congealing at the various kill sites, there was no indication the oozing remains were drug away.

  “This is fucking spooky,” said Kyle.

  Drake pointed a grin at Kyle. “Well, don’t shit yourself, Cainer.”

  “At least not until Joe shows up,” added Tom.

  Tom, John, and Drake shared a grin.

  Roger suddenly said, “I’m gonna go look for ‘em.” He strode off toward the woods.

  John asked, “Look for what?”

  “The bodies,” said Roger.

  Drake called after him, “You’re just trying to get out of helping us put up the tent again! Asshole!”

  Roger shouted back, “Dickhead,” and disappeared into the woods.

  The others set up camp.

  Drake apparently wasn’t ready to give up yet on his theory that this was some kind of conspiracy. “Well, if not Doofus, maybe somebody else. Somebody who knows we were coming out here this weekend.”

  Tom looked like he was ready to burst into laughter again. “You mean, like someone who has a motive for wanting to
spoil all our fun?”

  Drake nodded. “Yeah.”

  Tom tried to sound ominous: “You mean someone like . . . our women!”

  Drake cackled at this and John laughed too.

  Drake said, “Fuck, it all makes sense to me now!” He cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted at the woods, “JODY! THE GIG’S UP, BABY! YOU CAN COME OUT NOW!”

  This time, Kyle couldn’t help but join the chortling.

  By the time they had camp set up again, they were all drunk. Roger came back from the woods to report he’d found, “Nothing. Not so much as a dribble of blood. I did see more animals though! I ran into a skunk with one hellava nasty attitude!”

  Tom sniffed the air. “Couldn’t have had that nasty an attitude. You still smell like shit.”

  Roger punched Tom in the arm.

  As they were passing around another joint, Drake suddenly perked up, nearly shouting, “We should try the lake!”

  The other four looked at him with confusion.

  Drake clarified, “Fishin’. We should do some fishin’. See if we can catch anything. See how big the fish are.” He looked at Kyle as he postulated, “Maybe that’ll at least tell us if there’s something in the water.”

  Suddenly, Kyle wasn’t all that eager to fish.

  Roger, the only one who didn’t bring a fishing pole (he was a hunter, not a fisherman), told the others, “I’m going to build a fire.”

  Drake, Tom, and John all grabbed their fishing poles and began baiting their hooks with night-crawlers. Seeing Kyle digging in his backpack instead of the bait containers, Drake asked, “‘Sup, dawg? Aren’t you going to join us?”

  In response, Kyle pulled out a baggie of marijuana. Smiling, he made his excuse. “I brought some, too.” He held up the ziplock bag for them to see. “Sensimilia. Dynamite shit. You guys go ahead. I’m gonna roll up some blunts.”

  They couldn’t argue with that.

  John was the first to finish baiting his hook. He hopped up and strode toward the water. Drake stopped him. “Let’s do this together.”

  “A’ight,” said John, understanding perfectly.

  A minute later, Drake, Tom, and John all threw back their arms and cast their fishing lines into Bullet Lake.

  Kyle was seated in one of the folding lawn chairs they had brought. He looked up from what he was doing, interested to see what happened.