Serpentine (21 page)

THIRTY-TWO

Even after the government man—who had introduced himself as Agent Scott Miles—dropped them off at the cabin, Mac would not leave Joe’s side. Even when their parents tried to scoop her up to comfort her, she refused. She clung to Joe’s arm, saying nothing and barely moving unless she absolutely had to. Joe didn’t mind. He played with her hair in a way he knew she liked, hoping it would console her.

He and Mac sat on the couch while Scott Miles and the woman that he had pieced together was the local game warden tried explaining to his parents what had happened. Every now and then one of them would ask him a question and Joe would give a brief answer. The longer he sat there, the more he realized just how tired he was. He had read somewhere that a sudden surge of adrenaline could leave the human body feeling exhausted and he was pretty sure that was what he was feeling.

For most of the conversation, his mom was sitting beside him. She would look at him as if she were studying a painting, looking for some hidden meaning. Joe assumed she was looking for injuries. When she cupped his face in her hands and kissed him on the cheek, he uttered a light, “I’m fine, Mom.”

She started weeping at this, something Joe didn’t understand. Whether it was his eight-year-old sister, a fifteen-year-old girl that he had fallen in love with, or his mother, he just didn’t think he’d
ever
understand women. As his mother made a fuss over both of them, Joe still managed to hear a bit of the conversation taking place between Scott Miles, the game warden (her name was Susan, he had figured out) and his father. He heard Agent Miles saying that the creature that had attacked them was of unknown origin and was possibly a mutation of some kind.

Joe had no idea how he knew it, but he thought Agent Miles was lying. Joe had seen that thing up close on two occasions. Sure, maybe it
was
a mutation. But Agent Miles knew more than he was letting on. Joe watched his dad and wasn’t sure he was buying it, either. Maybe he was just too distracted by the fact that his children had narrowly escaped death to really care, though.

As if reading his mind, Agent Miles looked over to him slyly, just out of the corner of his eye. It was the brief sort of glance that Joe had seen grownups give one another far too often. He’d seen it shared between his parents when they talked about Santa Clause in front of Mac. He’d also seen it when they thought they were being clever and sneaky when talking about sex when young ears were around. It was a glance that spoke without words, saying:
We have a secret and it wouldn’t do anyone any good to find out about it.

Joe knew that he could object; he could let them know that whatever had attacked them was a monster of some kind, not just an abnormality or mutation. It was…well, it was something else.

But Joe let it go. The thing was dead. He had watched it die and that was enough for him. As far as he was concerned, its death meant that it never had to be mentioned again.

So he stayed quiet, although he kept feeling that pitchfork in his hands and how easily it had torn through the flesh of the thing. Now that it was all over, it made him feel slightly ill. He pushed it away, thinking instead of Valerie. He wondered what she was going through right now. Susan—the game warden—had dropped her off at her father’s cabin moments before delivering them home. She had not been in the house long, so Joe assumed she had given a very boiled down version of the same story she and Agent Miles were giving his folks right now. Joe was dying to know how her father had reacted and if Valerie was in any trouble, but he hadn’t dared ask.

Thinking of Valerie and what might become of them within a few days, Joe sat there without saying anything else. He continued playing with Mac’s hair and let his mother embrace him softly, like he might break at the slightest touch.

***

It took less than two days for Joe’s parents to decide that staying around the lake after everything that had happened would probably do their children no good. It was for that reason Joe found himself walking down Kerr Lane late at night, using the light of his phone to illuminate the road, as it was a cloudy night and the moon was nowhere to be seen.

He’d packed his suitcases with his mother’s help. She was still trailing him like a shadow but she was getting better on a daily basis. She seemed to bounce back and forth between her kids, hovering over Joe one moment and Mac the next. Joe was sure that Agent Miles hadn’t even told her the entire story—about what that thing had really been. If she’d known
everything
, there was no telling how she would act. He tried to imagine what she’d do if she woke up right now, at 12:25, to see that her oldest son’s bed was empty. She’d lose it. She’d freak out and call the police and then ground him for life. His dad would go along with it because when Amy Evans went berserk, Drew Evans did the smart thing and went along with just about anything she said or suggested.

But he had to see Valerie this one last time. Harsh words and punishment from his parents would be worth it. At such a young age, he didn’t
really
understand regret yet but he thought that not seeing Valerie again before he left Clarkton Lake would be something he would regret later on in life.

They’d communicated through text messages, deciding to keep it simple and meet on the edge of the road somewhere between their parents’ cabins. The conversation had been short and sweet, with Joe simply stating I need to see you. Need to talk.

She had responded with OK. How about on the road between our houses in 15 mins? There had been no subtext and no cutesy emoticons. Things were different now—a fact that was proven in their location of choice.

The mere idea of returning to the shack was horrifying to Joe and
almost
kept him from heading out to meet with her at all. If there was any doubt that his fond memories of that place were now ruined and replaced by feelings of pure terror, that realization had killed it.

Peering through the dark, he saw her approaching. She was also using her phone as a means of light. They closed the distance and when they met, they said nothing. They instantly kissed, their arms going around one another and sharing the sort of kiss that most teens don’t experience until under the dimmed lights of a prom or parked on a back road, exploring the backseat of a car.

When they pulled away, Valerie tore the band-aid off. With a simple question, she made Joe’s job much easier.

“It’s bad news, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Joe said. “We’re leaving tomorrow. Dad thinks it’s the best thing for me and Mac.”

“He’s right,” Valerie said, taking his hand and pulling him close.

Joe took in her scent, smelling a faint whiff of strawberry in her shampoo and the sweet tinge of summer sweat.

“This was awesome,” Joe said, wishing he could think of something better to say.

“It was,” she agreed. “It was amazing.”

“You know…that word people say when they care a lot about someone…”

“Yeah, I know,” she said, kissing him softly on the jaw.

He shuddered and was embarrassed to find that he was starting to cry. But holding her in his arms, he felt a shudder pass through her and realized that she was crying, too. His heart seemed to sag and an intense sorrow weighed heavily on him. He was terribly confused because he was sure he was too young to feel such a thing. Wasn’t he?

“Well,” Valerie said, pulling back to look him in the eyes. Their noses were nearly touching and even in the darkness, Joe could feel her eyes taking him in. “One thing’s for sure…I sure as hell won’t forget you. With everything that happened, I don’t think it would be possible.”

It sounded like such an adult thing to Joe’s ears and he understood in that moment that he had grown up considerably in the last few weeks. It wasn’t isolated to having met this beautiful girl and tasting love for the first time, nor was it all focused on experiencing true fear and overcoming it in a very adult way. It was all of that put together; it was in how he’d fought to save Valerie and his sister and how he was accepting this pain and sorrow as if it was a normal, expected part of life. It was in knowing that this was not meant to last and that, quite frankly, they
would
forget each other over time. He knew that just as sure as he knew he wanted to kiss her again in that moonless night.

And he did it. He drew her to him and kissed her. He supposed he
did
love her, and that was okay. But he knew how teenagers were. He knew that his parents were right about how he would grow up and mature. He’d meet someone else and fall in love with them and by the time he was married, all childhood things would be forgotten.

But he recalled the fear in his sister’s eyes and how that pitchfork had felt in his hands as he had run down to the bank where some unimaginable horror had tried to escape back into the water.

And with that bit of bravery in mind, he continued to kiss Valerie. Somewhere nearby, a dog barked and a loon cried out across the lake. Joe heard it all, as if it were a door being gently pushed shut to keep all the bad things out…and all the promising things inside.

THIRTY-THREE

It took Wayne a six pack and a shot of whiskey to summon up the courage, but he finally decided that he was going to walk down to Al’s house to see how he was doing. It had been two days since the gruesome events on the bank in front of the old fishing cabin and Wayne figured his friend might want to know that the thing that had attacked him out on the lake was dead and gone now—and that he, Wayne, had played a part in its death.

That’s how Wayne found himself walking up Kerr Lane on a Saturday afternoon, slightly drunk and hopeful for his friend’s recovery from whatever was ailing him. He’d kept tabs on the comings and goings around the lake since the events at the shed. That had been five days ago, although every morning since, he could have sworn it had only been the day before.

He knew that the Evans family had left town, headed back to New York. He also knew that Agent Scott Miles had holed up in his little cabin to get some rest and break down his equipment. The last Wayne had heard, Agent Miles was having problems breathing (which made perfect sense to Wayne, as one of the clearest things about that evening by the shack was seeing that monster wrap itself around the poor agent’s head). Wayne knew these things because Susan Lessing had told him. She had called him yesterday with no real purpose. She had gingerly approached the topic of the thing they had encountered on the lake but had not dwelled on it. Wayne was pretty sure she had simply called someone else that had been there just to make sure it had really happened and she wasn’t going crazy.

But Susan Lessing was the furthest thing from his mind as he walked up Al’s driveway. He gave the horseshoe pit a longful glance, hearing those musical
clink
s in his head. He marched up the porch steps and was glad that he was a little drunk; that would make it much easier to deal with Kathy if she was still insisting that he couldn’t see Al.

Might have been a good idea to call first,
he thought before he knocked.
Oh well…she would have just put me off anyway. Harder for her to do that with me standing right here in front of her.

He knocked on the door and waited, hoping that Al would answer but pretty damn sure that it would be Kathy.

Twenty seconds passed and no one answered. He knocked again, louder this time. As he waited for an answer, he turned to look at the top of the gravel driveway. Both cars were here, Al’s truck parked directly beside Kathy’s little Subaru. They were both home but apparently not answering the door.

Maybe Kathy had seen him coming up the drive and was choosing not to answer the door for him. That meant that she had convinced Al to stay quiet, too. That, or it meant that he had gotten worse since the last time they’d spoken.

A bit concerned now, and not really caring about Kathy’s concerns at all, Wayne tried the door. He found it unlocked, which was not surprising because no one hardly ever locked their doors around Clarkton Lake. He pushed it open and stood there between the opened screen door and the partially opened front door. He poked his head inside and listened for any sounds but there was nothing.

“Hello,” he said. “Kathy? Al? What’s going on? You there?”

He waited a handful of seconds but got no response. He stepped into the house and once he was fully inside, he could feel the stillness of the place. Almost instantly, the slight drunkenness seemed to wash away from him, much like it had done when he’d seen the events playing out on the shore that afternoon as he’d sped his boat closer to the horror.

“Al?” he said again, although by then, he was sure he wasn’t going to get an answer.

Get out,
he thought to himself in a meek voice.
Better yet, get on the phone and call the cops. Something isn’t right. You know it. You can feel it.

That was beyond true, but he somehow found his legs moving forward. He moved through Al’s living room. A magazine was opened on the coffee table. A can of Dr. Pepper sat beside it. The entire scene looked like something in a wax museum.

Wayne left the living room, heading left for the hallway where the bedroom was located. He made only a single step before he saw the body on the floor. His right foot paused in mid-step as he stared at it.

“Oh my God,” he breathed.

It was Kathy’s body, her face turned slightly to the right away from him. After that, nothing else about her made much sense because of all of the blood. It was caked along her chest and splattered against the walls.

A low moan escaped Wayne’s mouth and he felt himself falling softly against the wall. He stepped closer, the blood getting richer and more real with every foot forward. There was so much of it, so much blood that the area between Kathy’s neck and knees was nothing more than a red mess.

He was so close now that he thought he could smell the blood, rich and coppery almost like a handful of pennies. He took a final trembling step and came to the midway point of the hall. To his left, the bathroom door stood open. He glanced inside and instantly fell back against the wall. A scream tried to crawl out of his throat but his body was too shocked to produce the sound. All that came out was a low whining moan as he clapped his hands to his mouth.

Al was sprawled awkwardly on the floor, his body partially supported due to the fact that his left arm had fallen on the toilet seat and his head had struck the bathtub. His blood-coated face was aimed directly at Wayne, his eyes wide and his mouth—oh God, his mouth…

His mouth looked to have been ripped open, almost like someone had grabbed his chin and pulled own until the jaw snapped and the skin stretched and split. There were fragments of teeth speckled in the maroon blood that was sprayed all over his shirt. There was more blood on the walls and a literal pool of it in Al’s lap and on the floor. The white toilet was also stained with it; the tank looked like a morbid Jackson Pollock painting.

But Wayne’s eyes went back to that gaping hole where his friend’s mouth had once been. Now there was a black cavern of blood and unspeakable suffering.

Wayne felt the scream building in his chest as tears came cascading down his cheeks. But before he could let it out, he heard something. It was the first sound he had heard since stepping into the house other than his little muffled cries.

Something splashed in the toilet.

With a creeping dread spreading through his guts, Wayne leaned forward slightly and looked into the bowl. Something was coiled up inside, something alive and flipping what appeared to be its tail in an agitated manner. When Wayne’s eyes fell on it, it froze up and coiled up tighter on itself. It was a much smaller version of the beast he had helped to kill down by the shack four days ago but it still managed to fill almost the entire bowl.

Looking at it, there was a humbling moment where Wayne was sure his bladder was going to let go. He managed to keep control of himself, though. He slowly backed away on trembling legs.

He made it out of the doorway and back into the hall before the thing struck. It came sailing out of the toilet with speed that matched that of the larger creature Wayne was familiar with. Wayne’s scream finally came bolting out of his mouth as he took off in a run to his left, back towards the living room.

The thing struck the hallway wall, making a wet
splat
sound. Wayne looked back for only a moment, watching as it rebounded from the wall and hit the floor, already recovering and slithering quickly towards him.

It was fast as hell, already on Wayne’s heels. Thinking purely on instinct and not considering the consequences, Wayne reached he still-open front door and collided with the screen door beyond it, thankful that it had not completely closed when he came in. Still, his impact shattered the glass and the edge of the frame caught him in the forehead. He stumbled across the porch, hearing the sound of the snake-like thing also banging it open behind him.

Wayne turned, still running to the porch stairs, just in time to see it leaping from the porch and directly for him. Watching it propel itself without legs was almost like some kind of dark magic. It was going to get him; it was going to wrap around his head just like the larger one had done to Agent Miles and—

Suddenly, the porch was not under his feet. He realized moments after gravity took him that he was falling down the porch stairs. He went flailing down the stairs head first and could actually feel the slimy surface of the thing barely touch the side of his face as it overshot its falling prey.

Wayne struck his shoulder on the porch railing and then hit the last few on his side. He felt a rib crack right around the same moment his left foot bent awkwardly on the ground. He cried out in pain as he hit the ground, instantly scrambling to his knees to find out where the monster was.

He caught sight of it just short of the edge of the driveway. It was still now, stretched out to its full length of about three feet or so. Wayne stayed on his knees, a sharp pain in his side and his left foot screaming in pain. He slowly got to his feet, hobbling on his right foot as it took on almost all of his weight. He was afraid to test his left foot just yet and he knew that if it came down to being chased again, he wouldn’t stand a chance.

But to his surprise, the thing started to slink off away from him. It slithered at a steady speed towards the side yard, in the direction of the horseshoe pit. Wayne watched it go, expecting it to turn back towards him with lightning speed at any moment. Instead, it continued on its way, as if it was bored of chasing an old man.

Then he remembered the boy that had come running down towards the water with the pitchfork. The thing had been heading back to the water to breathe…

“Ah hell,” Wayne hissed.

Then, in an ultimate ironic twist, he started chasing after the thing. He cried out at the pain in his side and when he finally decided to test the ability of his left foot, he nearly fell on his face. He made it forward in a hobbling sort of run, his eyes still on the creature. By the time Wayne had passed the horseshoe pit, the thing was already halfway through the back yard. Beyond that, there was a thin grove of trees broken by a footpath that led to Al’s deck. Past that there was only the open lake.

Wincing, Al trundle forward, doing everything he could to look past the pain. As he finally hit a stride in balancing out the weight on his injured left foot, he saw Kathy’s little garden to the right, alongside the back porch. Propped against the side was a rake, a small hoe, and a mid-sized shovel that he supposed any respectable gardener would called a spade.

He grabbed the shovel (or spade, or whatever the hell it was) and continued down towards the trees and the lake beyond. Now that he had found a suitable pace—somewhere between a jog and a sprint—he dared to hope that he’d catch up to the thing. He didn’t know if it was because the grass was slowing it down or if it was running out of breath and, therefore, growing weaker, but it seemed much slower now, almost lethargic.

When he reached the bottom of the slight hill in the back yard, his foot was nearly numb, causing him to slow to a hobble. And the pain in his side was so bad that he felt like someone had wrapped barbed wire around his ribs.

The little monstrosity sped up a bit as it got closer to the trees, perhaps sensing the relief of water within the next several yards.

Its renewed speed wasn’t enough, though. Wayne closed in on it and raised the spade over his head. It had apparently assumed that the old man it had nearly killed would not be a threat because when it noticed another presence directly behind it, it froze for a moment rather than striking out at once. It had only enough time to coil back into its striking position before the spade came down.

It sliced cleanly through the thing’s body. There was very little give to it and it made a sick popping noise as its body was split cleanly in half. Black and clear fluid leaked from its two ends as it writhed in agony. It made Wayne feel sick and the only thing he could do to keep from puking in his dead friend’s back yard was to keep stabbing at it.

He cut the two pieces into three and the three into six. He stabbed at the ground several more times, not stopping until the thing that had erupted from Al’s mouth and sought refuge in the water of the toilet had been torn into unrecognizable bits of meat.

When he finally stopped and dropped the spade, Wayne was crying. He turned away from the mangled corpse of the thing and started back up the small hill of Al and Kathy’s back yard. He planned to go inside and call the police to report the deaths of his best friend and his wife. He had no idea how he’d explain the condition of Al’s face and that thought alone set him to weeping uncontrollably.

He made it as far as the horseshoe pit before he had to rest. He fell down on the grass and looked to his left foot. The ankle and upper part of the foot were swelling considerably. His side still stung but even that felt like it was also going numb.

With a trembling hand, he reached out and took one of the horseshoes from its place by the wooden planks that made up the frame. With tears in his eyes, he hefted it towards the opposing side and struck the stake along the front.

Cling.

Wayne let out a moan, picked up another horseshoe and held it close to him. He looked back out towards the lake, glimmering through the trees in Al’s back yard.

He remained there, motionless and crying, for the better part of the afternoon.