“Cobb, chill out, man,” Ben said, both of his hands on Cobb’s chest. Once Cobb stopped pushing forward, both Ben and Gentry let him go. “You sure you saw what you think you saw? Like Manuel said, it was dark, right?”
“And I’m assuming both of you were higher than hell,” Gentry said.
“Really, Gentry?” Cobb said, now sitting at the table again, his face pressed into both palms.
“I’m just saying.”
“We smoked some weed. We didn’t take acid,” Manuel said. “I’m not sayin’ Cobb was hallucinatin’ or nothing like that. I believe him. I didn’t see the shit he saw, but I did see how scared everyone else looked. I heard those motherfuckers screamin’ too. Somethin’ had a hold of their asses.”
“I saw it. I saw the fuck out of it. Holy shit.” Cobb shook his head, stared blankly at the salt and pepper shakers that were shaped like fish. “Those tentacles, they were eating him. That’s the last thing I saw before I turned around and hauled ass out of there. You ever seen one of those melon ballers? It was like that, man, but out of the guy’s chest. I think maybe he’s dead. I swear to God I think I saw that motherfucker die.”
Cobb started to sob then, lowered him head so that his forehead was pressed against the edge of the table.
Gentry and Ben locked eyes, and though all the excitement had sobered Gentry up a bit, he still felt woozy. He mouthed ‘What the fuck’ to Ben who stepped forward and put his arm around Cobb, patted him on the back.
Gentry shot Manuel a look, but the guy had his attention on the floor, his expression blank.
“Where’s your uncle?” Cobb said after a few minutes of collecting himself. His face was still red, eyes puffed and swollen, but he seemed to be calming down. “Maybe he knows what this is, you know? Maybe he’s seen that shit before.”
“He left,” Ben said. “Actually, he left a long time ago. Said he wanted to make some preparations on the boat for the morning. I figured he’d be back by now, though.”
“Shit.” Cobb went for another beer, but they were all gone. Gentry handed him the one he had been sipping on, still more than half full. Cobb took it, finished it off right away.
“Johnny and Otis!” Manuel slapped his palms together.
“What?” Gentry said.
“That lady, remember, Cobb? She said that boat belonged to Johnny and Otis, didn’t she?”
“Yeah! Yeah she did, that’s right.”
“So what?” Ben said. “How does that explain the crazy fucking horror movie shit you just described?”
“It doesn’t, but I’m sure your uncle knew them, right? Small town like this, in the same business as him? He had to know them.”
“Worthless assholes, the both of ’em.” Uncle Pete stood in the doorway, still on the other side of the screen door. The light above his head bathed him in a sickly yellow color, his eyes like black marbles shining from his face. He stepped into the house, let the door swing shut behind him. “What’s all the excitement about, boys? And what in the hell you know about Otis’n Johnny?”
“Uncle Pete,” Ben said. “Cobb said…”
Gentry knew that Ben realized what he was about to say in that moment, realized how insane it was going to sound.
“We were walking on the beach, and there was a fishing boat that had drifted in to the shore,” Cobb said. “A woman out there told us it belonged to someone named Otis and Johnny.”
“That right?” Pete removed his coat, which was covered in greasy looking stains and what appeared to be dried blood. He stumbled once, nearly lost his footing, but caught himself on the wall. He let out a deep chuckle, hiccupped once, then kicked his shoes off. The room was immediately plunged into the stink of rotting fish and wet, unwashed feet.
He’s drunk off his ass, Gentry thought.
It hadn’t occurred to Gentry until just then that this whole ordeal would be hard on Uncle Pete too. Taking his brother’s son, his nephew, out on his boat for the first time. In memory of his dead brother.
“Tell him the rest,” Manuel said.
“Cobb,” Ben said through his teeth. “Don’t. Just leave it alone.”
“Tell you what, boys,” Pete slurred before Cobb had a chance to speak. He shuffled across the room toward the stairs. “We’ll be up before the sun. Long day ahead of us, yeah? Get some r-rest, you’ll need it, I can guarantee you that much.”
Uncle Pete started up the stairs, having to use the wall and rail to keep himself steady. Gentry wanted to help him up, make sure he didn’t fall backward. The man looked like he could tip over with every shaky step he took.
“Just shut up about it already,” Ben whispered to Cobb, but Cobb was already pushing his way through, bumped Gentry on his way by.
“There were these barnacles,” Cobb called up to Uncle Pete.
“Cobb, I swear to God,” Ben said, and massaged his temples.
Uncle Pete had stopped walking, head hanging. Gentry thought he heard him mumble something, chuckle once under his breath, then turned to face them all. “What’s that now?”
“They were all over this tuna fish that was on the boat. Sheriff got…attacked by them.”
Uncle Pete snorted, scratched his nuts, his eyes barely open. “Attacked by barnacles? You on the dope, boy?”
“Shit, I wish we had somethin’ good enough to make us see that shit,” Manuel said, and caught dirty looks from everyone in the room. He shrugged, then quickly sat back down on the couch.
“Listen…sir. There were these tentacle things coming out of them, and they were… They were eating him. The sheriff. I saw it. I was standing right there.” Cobb stood at the foot of the stairs now, about crotch level with Uncle Pete, who continued to scratch his nuts and stare down at Cobb.
The smile he had been wearing drooped, and he squinted at Cobb, pulled his hand away from his crotch and pointed a shaky finger. “This ain’t no science fiction movie, boy. This’s Palacios, Texas, you hear me? Gulfa Mexico. Where I grew up. Where my whole f-family comes from.”
Cobb turned to look at Ben and Gentry, seemed lost and desperate for help, but neither of them said a word.
“Whatever it is you think you saw, you saw it wrong. Now you boys get to bed. Or the barnacles are gonna get ya!” He roared with laughter, turned back around, and headed up the stairs. It looked like he was struggling to make it, like his feet were too heavy for him to lift, but he eventually reached the second floor, shuffled out of the view.
Cobb spun and faced them all again. “Guys—”
“Enough already,” Ben said. “I’m not calling you a liar. I’m not gonna say you were too stoned and were seeing things, all right? But right now, I just wanna pass the fuck out.”
“I second that,” Gentry said. “We’ll all feel better after some sleep.”
Cobb looked to Manuel for help, but Manuel was already lying on his side, knees curled up to his chest.
“You good on the other couch, Cobb?” Ben said.
Cobb just nodded lightly, and without another word or even eye contact, he plopped down on the couch, hugged his pillow, and turned his back to the room.
“Well,” Ben said. “Clyde and Emma didn’t show after all. Thank fucking Christ for that, right?”
“Yeah,” Gentry said, forcing a smile. “Right. Good thing for sure.”
“Wanna share the bed in the guest bedroom?”
“You promise not to get a boner?”
“Nope.”
“Okay.”
—6—
“Rise and shine, faggots!”
Gentry gasped as he sat up in the bed. Sleep still blurred his vision, but he could see a figure standing in the doorway, another beside it.
“Which one of you was the catcher, huh? I bet it was Ben. You stick it in there deep, Gench?”
Clyde?
Gentry dug the heels of his palms into his eyes, rubbed, then looked back up. Clyde smiled down at him, a cup of what looked like steaming coffee in his hand. The coffee cup was in the shape of massive tits
and ass.
Emma stood beside Clyde, and when Gentry locked eyes with her, she smiled, twiddled her fingers to wave at him.
Ben still snored lightly beside him, his face buried in the hard pillow. Clyde walked over, slapped Ben on the ass hard.
Ben snorted, flinched so hard he hit the top of his head on the wall. “Wha-what the fuck!”
“Time to get up, dipshit. I’m ready for some fishin’. Ain’t that right, baby?” Clyde pulled Emma into him, kissed her.
Even though she kissed back, she had her eyes on Gentry, and he could have been wrong, but he could have sworn the look was apologetic.
Why would she feel bad about kissing her own boyfriend? Does she like me? Is that even possible?
“You came,” Ben said, now sitting up and rubbing the back of his head, glaring up at Clyde. “I was hoping you wouldn’t show up.”
“I love you too, brother,” Clyde said. “I know I can be a fuckin’ asshole, all right? My head gets all fucked up sometimes.”
“Yeah, I wonder why,” Ben said.
“Fuck you, you little cocksucker.” Clyde closed his eyes then, took a deep breath, and when he opened his eyes back up, a smile opened up too. “Listen. We got our problems, I know that shit. But this weekend? Can we just chill? You know…for Dad?”
All three heads turned toward Clyde, who was still smiling. Gentry couldn’t believe what he had just heard, and was expecting Clyde to launch some kind of surprise attack on Ben while his guard was down. Even Clyde’s tone reminded Gentry of when they were kids, when Clyde was actually fun to hang around with.
“You being serious? You fucking with me?” Ben was on his feet now, arms stiff at his sides.
“I swear,” Clyde said. He stepped away from Emma toward Ben, and Ben tensed up, put his hands out in front of him as if preparing to defend himself.
Gentry was ready to jump in and help if he had to, found himself searching the room for some kind of weapon.
But when Clyde reached Ben, he put his arms around him. And hugged him. Actually hugged him, patted him on the back.
Ben looked like a wooden statue, standing stiff in his brother’s arms. It seemed like he didn’t know what to do, how to react. After a few awkward seconds, Ben hugged back, though it still seemed forced.
“All right then,” Clyde said as he pulled away. “Y’all ready to have some fun?”
Ben nodded, smiled.
Gentry had been paying attention to the brothers and their rare embrace, and when he turned his attention to Emma, she quickly averted her eyes, as if she had been staring at him and was embarrassed for being caught.
But that’s my job.
“You boys ready?” Uncle Pete stepped into the doorway, looking well-rested and in high spirits. He smiled wide and sipped his coffee. “Clyde and Ms. Emma here showed up just in time. Now you boys hurry up, get dressed, and let’s get gone.”
“Think we’ll catch a lot of fish today, Uncle Pete?” Ben said after sliding into his t-shirt.
“You just gotta know where to find ’em, Benny boy. I tell you, you boys are lucky you’re family, you know it?” He held up a small paper pad that he pulled from his shirt pocket, rattled it like a box of candy with only a few pieces left. “Cuz your Uncle Pete’s got them scaly sons of bitches’ addresses right here. You ready to ring the doorbell?”
“Hell yeah, Uncle Pete,” Clyde said.
Ben rubbed his hands together, elbowed Gentry in the side and smiled at him, his expression saying ‘This is going to be fucking awesome!’
Gentry made eye contact one last time with Emma before she followed Uncle Pete and Clyde out of the room. His stomach tingled, and he had to force himself not to smile too wide.
Don’t look too much into it, Gentry. No way in hell she actually likes you.
“Come on, Gench,” Ben said. “Hurry up. Get your pants on and let’s get the fuck out of here.”
“My…pants?” Gentry looked down at his bare legs, the white, frayed briefs hugging his groin.
Goddamnit.
***
How did I never notice how cute he was before?
“Hey,” Clyde said as he stepped out onto the patio. He wrapped his arms around Emma from behind, sticking the tips of his fingers into her pockets. “Thank you.”
Emma blew out the smoke, twisted what was left of the cigarette into the ashtray. “For what?”
His touch repulsed her. It took everything she had not to put that cigarette out on his arm. She had seen him get these good moods before, and knew there wasn’t a drop of sincerity in any of it. It wouldn’t be long before he was back to his dickish ways again.
Did Gentry even realize he was in his underwear? And who the hell wears tightie whities anymore?
“Just…for everything. For stayin’ with me even though I can be hard to deal with. For lovin’ me, never leavin’ me.” He kissed her neck, and despite everything she was feeling, it felt good. “I love you, Emma. You know that, right?”
Eat shit and die, you piece of shit.
“Yeah. I know.” She chewed on her tongue as she spun and buried her face into his chest. “I love you too.”
“Emma,” Clyde started, then sighed. “This weekend, it means a lot to me. I don’t say it much, but I do miss my dad. I miss him bad. We had our differences, you know? But that was my dad. Bein’ here, in this place? It’s like I can feel him, you know?”
“Maybe he’s here. Watching you, and Ben. What do you think he’d say if he knew you guys came out here to go fishing?”
Clyde let her go, walked to the banister, and placed both hands on it—she stayed in her spot, watching his reflection in the glass door just in front of her, keeping her back to him. He stared off into the distance, though the sun still hadn’t come up. The ocean glistened under the silver moonlight like a sea of mercury.
“To Ben? He’d say ‘That a boy. Go get ’em.’ But me? Shit, he probably wouldn’t say nothin’. He’d play nice for a while, then start droppin’ comments about how I’m fuckin’ up my life. Wish I would’ve listened to him.” Clyde let his head hang. “Sometimes, I wonder if maybe I killed him.”
“Clyde, come on. That doesn’t even make sense.”
“I don’t mean I murdered him or nothin’. But that cancer? What if he got it from stress? I heard that shit can happen. I stressed him out so bad he got cancer from it, and now he’s dead. Because of me.”
Emma focused her eyes, looked through Clyde’s reflection and into the house. Gentry stood on the far end of the room, talking with Ben and laughing. Clyde said something else behind her, but she was only vaguely aware of his voice oozing out of his mouth, going on and on, fishing for sympathy and for Emma to tell him nothing was his fault, just like always. Same old games.
Ben stepped away from Gentry, and in the next second, Gentry looked toward Emma. He didn’t seem to notice her there at first, on the patio, but then he smiled, waved. She waved back, but kept her hand at her hip. Gentry’s eyes seemed to look past her, over her shoulder, and then his smile sort of faded, and he walked away.
“Emma?”
“What? Huh?” Emma finally turned to face him, though he was still staring out at the ocean. She hugged herself with both arms.
“When I tell you I love you, I mean it. I always have. When we get back home…I’ll do better. I swear I will.” He let go of the banister, spun to look at her. “I’ve done some things. Fucked up shit. Real bad. And when we get home, I’ll tell you. I will. But for now? This weekend? Can we just pretend we’re happy? Like it used to be back in the day. You remember? When we first got together.”
“Course I remember.”
“This weekend, that’s us. Cool? Can you give me that?”
But we’re not those people anymore. Neither one of us.
“I think so.”
He kissed her. Soft. Sweet. “Good.”
***
“So what’re you sayin’, Cobb?” Manuel spat a wad of blue toothpaste and saliva int
o the sink, wiped his mouth with the back of his wrist.
“I’m saying that shit I saw yesterday was real. I’m saying you saw it too but don’t wanna admit it.” Cobb barely slept, and what sleep he did have writhed like black worms.
“Are you bein’ serious?”
“Dead serious.”
“Fuck you. Remember what you said the other day? How this trip was about Ben? How we need to be here for him and all that? You remember, right?”
“Yeah, I fucking remember. And here we are.”
“Dude. Cobb. You’re my best friend, man. I love you, okay? But listen to yourself. Goin’ on and on about some fuckin’ fish with barnacles on it? What’re you, a marine biologist now?”
“What does that even mean?”
“Means you’re makin’ a big fuckin’ deal about somethin’ you don’t know shit about. What we saw, it was fucked up. Nasty. I saw my cousin get attacked by a pit bull once. Bit him on the calf, tugged on it for like half an hour. When we finally got it off, the muscle was chewed up and hangin’ off the bone. Fucked up shit, right?”
“You saw it.”
“That’s what I’m sayin’. I saw an animal attack. That shit happens all the time. Just because we saw an attack by an animal we’ve never seen before don’t make it nothin’ more than what it is.”
“But you saw it. You just admitted it. You said we. What we saw.” Cobb still wasn’t sure if he could get on a boat after what happened last night. He didn’t know what was worse: watching those tentacles rip off chunks of meat from the sheriff’s bleeding chest or that nobody would believe him.
“Maybe I did see it. It still doesn’t matter.” Manuel splashed some water in his face, used the bottom of his shirt to dry it off.
“How can you possibly—”
“Today isn’t about you. It’s not about barnacles or tentacles or that dead fucking cop. It’s fucked up, I know, but I mean it. We didn’t have a damn thing to do with what happened, so you need to get the fuck over it.”
They had made their way to the living room now, and Manuel sat down to put his shoes on. The front door creaked open and Uncle Pete stepped in, crossed his arms. He scowled at Cobb and Manuel, but only for a moment before smiling. The lines on his red face grew deeper as he grinned, his eyes perfect arches surrounded by more wrinkles like fractures on an old piece of wood.
Parasite Deep Page 9