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

Home > Other > Fishing in Brains for an Eye with Teeth (Thirteen Tales of Terror) > Page 17
Fishing in Brains for an Eye with Teeth (Thirteen Tales of Terror) Page 17

by William Markly O'Neal


  The instant the bobbers hit the water, they were all dragged under.

  “Holy fuck!” said John as he began cranking his reel.

  Tom’s grin was huge. “Goddamn! I got a big one!”

  Drake laughed like a kid.

  Kyle muttered to Drake as he watched him: “You’re going to get us all killed.”

  Three largemouth bass, all weighing at least five pounds, were reeled out of the lake. After removing the hook, John held his fish aloft and shouted, “All Hail The Fearless Bass Killers!”

  Everybody laughed. Even Kyle laughed, and then he finished rolling a blunt.

  Drake announced, “We’re going to eat these puppies!” They had brought hamburgers and hotdogs with them but they all agreed that fresh fish sounded better. Drake dug into his own backpack and came out with a knife and a tool to remove the scales from the fish. As Roger got the fire going, Dupree cleaned their catch.

  Tom guzzled another beer, postulating, “Maybe there is something in the water after all.”

  Kyle was so buzzed by then, it was starting to sound plausible to him.

  Apparently everyone else was thinking the same thing. John nodded. “Yeah. It’s about the only thing that makes any sense.”

  Roger gave them a sharp look but they just looked back at him. Silently the message was conveyed. Injun Joe makes more sense.

  No. That makes no sense at all.

  Roger suddenly grabbed his rifle, stood up, tipped his beer can straight up, guzzled the contents, and then crushed the can. Instead of tossing it in the nearby pile that they had made, he surprised everyone by saying, “Fuck you, Joe,” and threw the can in the lake.

  Drake, Tom, and John all snickered. Drake tipped his beer to Roger, then guzzled the last of his brew, crushed the can, and echoed the sentiment: “Fuck you, Injun Joe!” He threw the container for his silver bullet into the lake.

  Tom and John quickly added two more “Fuck you”s and two more cans.

  Roger disappeared into the woods.

  Drake, Tom, and John all stared at Kyle, who was sipping his beer. Kyle looked at his friends and said, “This is the part of the horror movie where the audience says, ‘They’re all going to die.’”

  John winced and seemed a little unnerved but Drake quickly jumped up and said, “Well, if we’re all gonna die, you’re going with us.” He stomped over to where Kyle was sitting. “Either drink that beer and throw the can or you’re wearing it, buddy.”

  Tom and John both smiled. They all knew Drake was serious.

  “Fine,” Kyle said, sounding pissed off, even though a smile was playing at his lips. He tipped back his can and guzzled his beer, his swallows sounding loud and squishy. When he was finally done drinking, he belched, then crushed the can, and threw it in the lake. “Fuck you, Joe. I will fear no Injun.”

  Tom laughed. Drake grinned and walked over to the cooler for more beers.

  From the woods they heard the loud crack of Roger’s rifle.

  “How does he see out there?” asked John. All the shadows were now gone, blotted out by real darkness. The sky was filled with millions of stars—one to match each of the crickets that sang to them.

  Tom said, “He’s got the eyes of a cat.”

  Bathed in the light from their bonfire, Drake muttered, “Ain’t that dark yet.”

  Kyle said ominously, “Full moon tonight.”

  Drake tossed a beer first to Tom, then one to John, then one to Kyle, before cracking one of his own. “What’cha sayin’, Cainer? You really do think Joe is gonna show up tonight, don’tcha?”

  “Fuck, no! I was just makin’ the comment.”

  “Right,” said Drake.

  They all knew, according to legend, the ghost of Injun Joe was fond of appearing on nights when the sky was clear and the moon was full.

  Fifteen minutes passed, as they continued to drink and smoke and talk about the Legend. Finally John said, “I wonder if Roger’s okay.”

  Drake stood up and shouted, “HEY LUNKHEAD! YOU STILL ALIVE OUT THERE?”

  From the forest, Roger shouted, “NO!”

  Tom giggled.

  A couple minutes later, Roger returned with rabbit on a stick, the animal already gutted and cleaned. John grimaced. “You’re not going to eat that, are you?”

  “Better this than the fish you’re eating.”

  Drake ribbed Roger, “Spoken like a true homo.”

  “Fuck you, douche bag.”

  Drake served up fish on paper plates to Tom and John, and then took one himself. The three of them kicked back in lawn chairs. Just as they were about to eat, John said, “Hey wait. If there is something in the water affecting all these animals, couldn’t we, like, maybe catch something from the fish?”

  Tom’s eyes sparkled. “Some kind of drug that makes us stand around like a bunch of stoned, lazy idiots?” He shoveled a mouthful of the steaming fish into his mouth. “Gee, that would be terrible.”

  Drake laughed.

  Kyle was the only one of the group who didn’t eat something he killed. Instead he ate a couple of raw hot dogs. “Aren’t you going to even cook those, Vet boy?”

  “Nope.”

  “Ya know,” mused Drake. “You couldn’t do the animal community a greater disservice than to eat a hot dog. There are the parts of what? Maybe a dozen different animals that go into makin’ those things.”

  Kyle fired back, “Oh, there’s a greater disservice I could do . . . I could hang out with a bunch of gun nuts.”

  Roger grabbed his rifle and his beer and stood up. He staggered three steps to his left while guzzling half the can in five loud swallows. Swaying, unable to stand still he was so drunk now, he groused, “Gun Nuts? Who the fuck are you calling nuts?”

  “You, Lunkhead, and all these mutherfuckers.” Kyle gestured at the others.

  “Gun Nuts, huh?” In the firelight, Roger’s pale tight face looked particularly crazed, his eyes glittering brightly. “I’ll show you nuts!” He started shooting at the lake.

  Kyle dropped his beer, startled by the gunfire. Everyone cringed. Roger shot the lake three times, in rapid succession, and each shot seemed louder than the last.

  Kyle was screaming, “Goddamnit Lunkhead! You made me spill my beer!”

  John chastised Kyle, “That’s alcohol abuse!”

  Kyle roared at Roger, “You are fucking nuts, you goddamn ape!”

  Roger put down his gun so he could pound on his chest, then howled like a gorilla.

  Drake laughed so hard, he shot beer out his nose.

  As they all finished eating (Roger only picked at his rabbit before breaking open a can of Pringles) the Fearless Five got serious about getting a better buzz. They smoked a round of blunts, then another. They broke out the Jack Daniels and everybody did a shot of whiskey.

  For about an hour they continued to talk about how strange this place was. The darkness became stronger but there were minimal clouds tonight and the starlight was bright. When they heard the first owl, Roger’s ears perked up. Seeing Roger’s reaction, Kyle told him, “No. You do not need to kill an owl.”

  Roger retorted, “Maybe not. But maybe I want to.” At this point, however, Lunkhead was all bluster and no action.

  They had put their guns to bed for the night.

  Or they thought they had.

  Finally they grew tired of talking about giant fearless animals and the Legend of Bountiful Woods. The topic of conversation turned to their favorite subject: pussy.

  Kyle, now drunk and completely relaxed, teased Drake, “So now that you’re married, you get laid, what? Once a month?”

  Tom snickered.

  John said, “Oh, man! That’s brutal!”

  Drake retorted, “No, Captain Celibate. In case you’ve forgotten, Jody married me because she can’t get enough of this.” He grabbed his dick through his jeans. “And that hasn’t changed since we got married.”

  Tom jumped in, “That’s not what you said when she was pregnant!”

&
nbsp; Drake glared at Tom. “Well, yeah, but that was different. And lucky for me, I had Kelly to get me over that little hump.”

  Kyle hadn’t heard of Kelly. “Who’s this you’re humpin’ now?”

  Tom told Kyle, “They haven’t fucked.”

  Drake bragged. “She works for my dad. Sweet little thing. Short blonde hair, nice ass, big tits.”

  Tom sipped his beer after correcting Drake. “Average-sized tits.”

  Drake ignored Tom. “Fucking sexy as hell.” He grinned. “I had a hard time during the last couple months of Jody’s pregnancy.”

  “Hard,” repeated Lunkhead and snorted laughter.

  Drake was still grinning lecherously. “Sometimes after work, Kelly would help me out.”

  John laughed. He had heard this story, too. “That’s the kind of help we all should get from a coworker!”

  Kyle had a suspicion he knew what happened but asked anyway, “What did you guys do?”

  Drake shrugged. “Nothing much. I’d just kick back behind my desk and she’d suck my cock like a high class whore!”

  Tom scoffed. “Like you’d know what a high class whore is like.”

  Kyle couldn’t seem to figure out whether to be disgusted or impressed (although admiration appeared to be winning.) “You aren’t even married a year and you’re getting blowjobs behind your wife’s back?”

  Drake looked at Kyle like he was the crazy one. “If I’d been getting blowjobs in front of my wife’s back, I wouldn’t have had to go behind her.”

  John, Tom, and Roger all snickered. Roger laughed particularly hard, sounding a lot like an excited mule.

  Kyle wanted more details. “So, how often did she used to blow you?”

  Tom took another sip of his beer after saying, “Used to?”

  John chuckled.

  Kyle picked up on that. “What? She’s still blowing you at work?”

  Drake shrugged. “What can I say? The woman must have a protein deficiency!”

  Tom laughed hard at that and Drake snickered at himself.

  “I don’t believe you,” Kyle said, throwing back his drink.

  “What Jody doesn’t know won’t hurt her.” The grin vanished from Drake’s face. “Besides, it’s not like I really even wanted to get married in the first place. She trapped me by getting pregnant.”

  Kyle’s mouth fell open. “I don’t believe it, man.” He’d never heard Drake talk this way about his wife. “I thought you two were, like, the perfect couple!”

  Drake said sourly. “We were. Until she went and got herself pregnant.”

  For a moment Kyle didn’t seem to know what to say. Finally he settled for, “Holy fuck, man!”

  Drake suddenly brightened again, recapturing his good humor. “At least I’m getting sucked and occasionally fucked. If all I did was study all the time and whack off,” he made a jerk-off gesture in the air, “I think I’d go insane!”

  Kyle rolled his eyes and his drunken head rolled with it. “Fuck you, man. It’s not like I haven’t gotten laid at college.”

  They all knew about last Christmas break, about his one-night stand at Homecoming time. John voiced what they’re all thinking, “What? Once?”

  Kyle reluctantly said, “Twice, actually.”

  “What? Did Jaws come back for a second munch?” Everyone cracked up except Kyle. His one-night stand was with a sexy redhead with a killer body but she also had braces that earned her the nicknames, ‘Jaws,’ ‘Metal mouth,’ and (Tom’s) ‘Edie Scissormouth.’

  “Nooooooo . . . I got laid a couple of months ago.”

  “Really?” said Tom, sounding skeptical.

  “Really?” said Drake, sounding both amused and skeptical.

  “Yes, really,” said Kyle, the color rising in his cheeks.

  Tom snickered at his own joke before saying it. “So, who was this new chick and where were her braces? Her legs?”

  Roger loudly injected, “He wishes!”

  There was a pause, no one seemed to understand what that meant, and they all burst into laughter (all but Kyle, who was still blushing.) Drake called Roger a, “Lunkhead!”

  Tom turned back to Kyle. “So who was this chick? How’d you meet her?”

  Kyle squirmed. “She was . . . um . . .”

  “What, man?”

  “Spit it out, dude.”

  “. . . my roommate’s girlfriend.”

  “What?”

  Everyone looked confused. “You banged your roommate’s girlfriend?” asked Drake.

  John piped up, “Who’da thunk he’d have the balls.”

  Kyle held up his chin now, saying, “Yeah. She’s hot, too. A black chick.”

  “Really?” said Drake in a high voice. He suddenly held up a hand for a fist bump. Kyle extended his fist to touch Drake’s. Drake gushed, “Way to go, man! I’ve always wanted to fuck a black chick!”

  John said, “You just love women with big asses.”

  “Damn straight,” Drake admitted. “God bless the ghetto booty.” He stopped to consider this, and then (in a routine they’d seen before), he added, “Oh wait. He already did.”

  Tom asked, “So, is your roommate black?”

  “No.”

  Drake was still ranting. He slapped Kyle on the shoulder, saying, “Mister Cain scores Big Time! I never knew ya had it in you, dawg!”

  Roger blurted out, “Once you go back, you never go black.”

  Drake, Tom, John, and Kyle all laughed at him. Drunk, Roger wanted to know, “What? That’s what they say!”

  Nobody bothered to correct him.

  Tom still wanted to know more about Kyle’s conquest. “So, what? Your roommate’s girlfriend came on to you while he was out of town or something?”

  Kyle was indignant. “Why do you assume it wasn’t me that came on to her?”

  Drake laughed like this is hilarious. He answered for Tom. “Because we know you, dawg.”

  “For real. You never woulda gotten it on with Metal Mouth if she hadn’t made the first move.”

  Drake gave Kyle a piercing look. “So, tell us the truth, my man. What did happen?”

  Under Drake’s intense stare, as it had happened so many times before, Kyle found himself admitting what he’d rather not. “It was a pity fuck, okay?” His face was red again, this time with anger. “My roommate felt bad because I hadn’t gotten laid in so long. He talked his girlfriend into sleeping with me! There! Are you happy?”

  The color started to fade from Kyle’s face but then came back stronger than ever. His burst of anger was gone, just that quick, and now he was more embarrassed than ever.

  The guys started to snicker, then broke into open laughter. Roger’s laughter got louder and louder until he was braying like a donkey. He repeated, “Pity fuck!” and then laughed some more.

  Kyle hung his head, unable to even look at any of them. He wondered why in the Hell he’d agreed to come on this stupid trip. At this particular moment, he was determined this was his last time partying with these assholes.

  Drake came over and dropped an arm around Kyle’s neck, consoling him. “Don’t sweat it, Cainer. A fuck’s a fuck, right? The important thing is you got a nut.”

  Kyle looked doubtful, like maybe that wasn’t the most important thing in the world, but he nodded in response.

  Drake looked at Roger. “At least he can get some pussy.”

  That shut Roger’s laughter up.

  For a moment there was silence, except for the sound of the crackling fire. Then the wind suddenly picked up, rustling through the trees.

  Kyle threw back his beer, guzzling the last out of his current can. As he drank, he looked up at the sky and saw the full moon rising.

  At that exact same moment, John said, in a wavering voice, “Guys?”

  They all looked at him and then looked at where he was pointing.

  Far across Bullet Lake, the five of them should have been able to see the lights of Flagg City (which was actually a tiny town). They couldn’t see any
of the cabins on the other side of the lake, however, because of a thick fog.

  “No fucking way!” Drake sounded excited, not at all afraid. “No fucking way!”

  The fog bank had already piled high on the lake and was moving slowly toward them.

  “Check out the moon,” said Kyle and he did sound frightened.

  Above them, the full moon had risen above the tree-line and was bathing the clearing in shimmering light. Everything got brighter.

  Drake barely glanced at the moon. He was more interested in the fog bank coming toward them. “That’s some kind of smoke machine, right? That’s gotta be, like, what do you call it? Blue ice?”

  “Dry ice, moron.” said Tom. “And there’s no fucking way! To make that much fog would take the fog machines of The Who, The Stones, and about ten other classic rock bands! There’s no fucking way machines are doing that!”

  John’s voice quavered as he said, “I don’t fucking believe this shit!”

  Kyle looked at him and then looked at the fog rolling ever closer. He shook his head. “There’s gotta be some logical explanation for all this.”

  “There is,” insisted Drake. “Dry ice.”

  “Bullshit!” said Tom, nearly shouting.

  Roger sounded totally spooked as he said, “It’s Joe. It’s just like in the story. It’s Injun Joe.”

  Tom and Drake shouted at exactly the same time, “BULLSHIT!”

  Roger threw down the can of beer he was holding. It splashed, then tipped over and spilled. Wasting a half can of suds like this was a testament to how frightened Roger was. He hopped up, hurried over to the tent and grabbed his rifle, then checked to make sure it was loaded.

  Watching him, Drake quipped, “What are you going to do with that, Lunkhead? Shoot a ghost?”

  Kyle guzzled his beer before he stood up.

  All the Fearless Five stood together and watched the fog come rolling in, Roger tightly gripping his gun before his chest.

  “Okay, so what?” The volume had bled from Drake’s voice. He didn’t exactly sound afraid but he didn’t sound like his normal cocky self either. “So it’s getting foggy? So what? It’s just a coincidence.”

  John whined, “Dude! The guys in the legend said something just like that!”

 

‹ Prev