Billy: A Tale Of Unrelenting Terror (14 page)

Without another word, Nick walked into the darkness of the cabin, followed by the rest of the men. They made their way slowly, letting their eyes adjust to the poor lighting of the dank, stuffy cabin.

The place was a mess. By the water line near the ceiling, they could see that the entire first floor had been flooded during the storm. The force of the water and sludge it left in its wake destroyed any sense of order in the small confines of the tiny, wooden shack. Mud and moldy green residue covered everything. The smell was awful, and the majority of the men covered their noses and mouths with whatever cloth they had with them. Flies and other insects buzzed about, feasting on the disgusting smorgasbord of rotting things.

"
Merde
’!" shouted Dennis as he sprang from his spot and almost fell over a rocking chair that was lying on its side.

The group jumped from the sudden outburst just in time to see a sizeable water moccasin slither out from under a pile of unrecognizable refuse. Kirk and Henry casually stepped to the side as the poisonous reptile glided past them and out the front door. Once the black snake dropped into the murky water out front, the crew got back to the task at hand.

"
Coo-wee
!" exclaimed Cap’n Guidry. "I t’ink we found one of da family."

On the floor at the Cap’n’s feet, amongst the slimy remains of the family’s belongings, a human ribcage was visible. Next to what was left of the poor victim’s torso, a skull and a few assorted bones, some still with remnants of flesh attached, lay scattered about. The internal organs of the deceased were almost nonexistent, either rotted away in the hot, humid climate, or eaten by the abundant assortment of scavengers in the area. The men looked on in reverent silence for a moment before scanning the rest of the cabin for the remainder of the ill-fated family.

"Here’s another one," Henry stated, pointing at the floor near a hole in the wall where a window had once been. "It’s in no better shape than the other one."

"
Cho! Co
!" Kenny exclaimed from the back room. "Now this don’t make no sense."

The men walked toward the back and stared down at the sight before them. In the small back room of the cabin was a bed, and resting on it was the decaying remains of what appeared to be a middle-aged woman. Unlike the other two bodies, this one had been placed on the bed and left mostly undisturbed by the scavengers that had done so much damage to the others.

"What the fuck?" Nick asked to no one in particular.

The men looked to each other without a word. No one had any plausible theories to explain the unexpected sight, so none were offered. The group wandered back into the main room of the house when Dennis LeFleur noticed something overhead.

"Looks like da door to da attic," he said, pointing to a small, square wooden frame on the ceiling. "Wonder why dey didn’t just go up dere?"

Nick shuddered, remembering the story Margaret told while she was under hypnosis.

"Dat is da question of da day, gentlemen," Guidry said. "Guess we gonna find out."

They looked around and found a ladder amongst the garbage strewn about the floor. Once it was inspected and found sound enough for use, the men placed it under the small opening overhead. The crew looked at one another, but everyone kept their eyes averted and none made any move toward the ladder.

"Well, they had the ladder here, so surely they intended to go up there, unless it was left here by those kids," Nick stated. "The sign up front said there were four dead bodies; there were four members of the St. Pierre family that were known to be here during the storm. I guess we’ll find another one up there."

Nick instinctively checked his firearm by his side, took a deep breath, and headed up the ladder. He pushed the small, wooden door to the side, and he could see there was a moderate amount of light in the hot space overhead, undoubtedly due to the holes in the tin roof caused by the ferocity of the storm.

Nick poked his head up through the opening and scanned the area. He drew back quickly and almost threw up. The others looked at him with a combination of dread, curiosity, and anticipation, but Nick didn’t say a word. He took a few deep breaths and climbed up the ladder, disappearing into the hidden space above.

On the dusty boards at his feet, not far from the small opening to the cabin below, lay the body of Poppie St. Pierre. The sight was repulsive, even to an experienced investigator like Nick. The poor victim was bloated from the noxious gasses and microscopic organisms that ate at him from the inside and was ripped to pieces by the birds that had feasted on him from the outside. His eyes were missing, as was most of his flesh, and his intestines were strewn about the dusty floorboards of the attic. Nick could see that the man’s throat had been ripped apart by sharp claws, a sight that was incongruent with the remains of the rest of the man’s family.

It had been months since the two storms had ravaged the area, meaning an exact cause of death would be all but impossible even for the most skilled coroner to determine. Under these circumstances, in this place, with what they had discovered so far, Nick could see that even Sherlock Holmes would be baffled.

The two bodies below lie scattered on the floor, both victims could have drowned in the flood, then been ravaged by the elements; another below may have drowned, yet was somehow placed gingerly on a bed after the waters subsided by who knows and for what reason. Nick figured that the original search party might have moved some of the remains around, but he knew this wouldn’t really explain it. The woman’s body in the back room must’ve been moved there right after the storm for it to remain in the shape in which they had found it. By the time Generation Millennium came here, it would’ve been too late. And now, there was this body in the attic.

Nick scanned the area around him and made mental notes of all that he surveyed. A shotgun lay near the corpse and a spent shell was on the floor nearby. A giant puddle of dried blood surrounded the body, and Nick could see various markings throughout the floorboards. Most of the prints appeared to be from birds, most likely crows, although none were of good enough quality to be sure. Nick noticed a few larger prints that resembled the claws of a much larger predator, though he had no idea what could have made such markings. Upon closer inspection, there appeared to be six fingers and/or toes on each paw, but it was impossible to determine exactly. As far as Nick knew, there wasn’t a creature on Earth that would leave such a mark.

"Fucking swamp monster," he whispered to himself and shuddered at the thought.

Nick knew the others were impatiently waiting below for his return, so he glanced once more around the attic before heading for the opening at his feet. The remainder of the small area was empty, so he started down the ladder, before stopping himself. In the far corner, almost hidden in the shadows, Nick noticed a pile of iron chains. One end looked to be wrapped around and fastened to a wooden post, the other end held an empty shackle.

"What the hell?" he muttered to himself before resuming his way down the ladder. When Nick met the other men, he could see some kind of explanation was in order.

"The other body’s up in the attic," he said. "Probably Poppie St. Pierre. My guess is that the body in the back is his wife and these two up front are the kids. There’s no sign of the search party we’re looking for, though surely they were here by the sign out front."

"Why didn’t the rest of the family go up in the attic?" Kenny asked.

Nick remained silent; he had no explanation – at least he had no explanation that made any sense. He could see there was a reason, a good reason, a big, scary, good reason to not go up there, but he had no way to explain it and didn’t want to try. It really didn’t matter now, he figured. Whatever it was that the family had chained up there wasn’t up there anymore. He wanted to forget all of that now and get the hell out of there.

They needed to find those kids, or whatever was left of them, and then go home. He didn’t get paid enough to hunt down the boogeyman. In any event, the kids had been there, and then they left and got lost. That’s what Margaret had said, and Nick was finding himself believing her crazy story more than he cared to.

St. Elizabeth’s wasn’t a place he wanted to call home, and he had no intention of finding himself interned there for any length of time when this was all over. No, he told himself, not going to do it. We’re just going to stick to the mission and fuck everything else. Don’t know, don’t care what the fuck was up in the attic, and don’t want to find out.

"Let’s get the body bags and get these poor people out of here," Nick instructed. "They deserve a proper funeral."

Kenny and Dennis headed out the door with Kirk trailing behind them. After a few minutes, Kirk popped his head back through the front door and addressed the elder Guidry, "Cap’n, you need to get out here."

Guidry walked out front, followed by the rest.

"What da hell?" he asked. "Where da hell dat boy gone off to?"

The boats sat empty out by the dock. There was no sign of the younger Guidry.

"Frank! Frank!" the men began to shout, scanning the horizon. "Where you at?"

There was no sign of the boy anywhere.

"Maybe he gone off to take a piss or something," offered Joseph Batiste.

"He’d be back by now," Henry answered. "Somethin’s not right."

They fanned out and searched around the cabin, looking for the lost boy.

"Nick, come see," Kenny said quietly so the others couldn’t hear.

Nick walked over to the boat where Frank had been seen last and looked down at where Kenny was pointing. A few splatters of fresh blood could be seen on the side of the boat, but nothing else.

"What do you make of that?" Kenny asked.

"Not sure, but it ain’t good," Nick replied.

"When Cap’n sees this, he ain’t gonna be none too pleased," Kenny said.

Nope, that he’s not, thought Nick.

The men slowly made their way back toward the boats, and Nick could see the near panic in Cap’n Guidry’s eyes. Nick knew once the man saw the blood all hell was going to break loose, but saw no way to avoid it. No, they all needed to see it, and they all needed to keep their heads together, or things would only go from bad to worse.

"Cap’n," Nick said evenly, "you need to see something."

Kenny held his tongue and looked at his feet while Nick showed Guidry and the rest of the crew the blood marks on the side of the boat.

"Could be from da bait," Guidry stated, not truly believing his own words.

"EEEEEEEEaaaaaaaaaaaagggggghhhhhhhh!!!!"

The roar tore through the silent air and ripped into the hearts of the Swamp Rats.

"
Pic kee moi
! Fuck me!" Henry shouted in surprise.

"What da hell was dat?" Kirk exclaimed, swallowing some of his chewing tobacco by mistake.

"Whatever it is, it ain’t too far away," said Joe.

They all peered in the direction they determined the sound had come from, then back toward Cap’n Guidry. Nick noticed the man’s teeth were clenched in anger, and his face was beginning to turn red.

"Get in da boats and grab da rifles," he stated. "We got huntin’ to do."

Chapter Twenty-One

Tracking the Beast

T
he men gathered their firearms and started off in the direction that the unholy sound had come from. They made their way carefully down the overgrown waterway, keeping a keen eye on their surroundings for any sign of the missing Guidry or the beast that took him. Cap’n remained silent, his face tense with worry and anger and his hands tightly clutching the shotgun in his grasp as his eyes relentlessly scanned the horizon. When the boats rounded a sharp bend in the
bayou
, a large patch of water-lilies rose in front of them, impeding their progress.

"Cut dem motors," instructed Cap’n. "Get dem propellers out of da water; we gonna paddle tru so’s we don’t get stuck."

The crew was already on the task; with the exception of Nick, they were all experienced with navigating through the wetlands.  It was not uncommon to find patches of hyacinths or downed trees that could make traveling through the smaller waterways difficult, especially this far into the swamp. Normally, one would go around these obstacles whenever possible, but there was nothing normal in what the men were doing now.

Pushing through the overgrowth was tedious, but eventually the boats made it out onto open water again. While the men in the back of the boats dropped the motors back into the water in preparation to regain momentum, the others watched carefully down the
bayou
for any indication that they were heading in the right direction.

"Look over dere," Kirk said, pointing to a small patch of mud sticking out of the water between some cypress trees.

A small bush swayed gently back and forth, as though blown by the wind. None of the men could detect a breeze at the moment. Something had been there moments before, watching them. Whatever it was, it was still nearby.

"Y’all stay back a little," Cap’n told the men in the second boat, "and keep a sharp eye out. We’re gonna have a closer look."

Guidry guided the boat slowly up to the spot between the trees, and Kenny tied them off to one of the
boscoyo
nearby. Once Nick convinced himself that there was nothing within arm’s reach that could grab him unexpectedly, he holstered his handgun and hopped out of the boat to inspect the area. Cap’n Guidry followed him onto a small patch of soggy dirt, while Kenny stayed behind, his hunting rifle poised for action.

"See anything?" Nick asked.

"Hmmm," Guidry mumbled, "some t’ing was here. Not sure what."

Nick looked down to where Guidry was pointing and saw fresh claw marks in the muddy earth. He had a sense of déjà vu at the sight of six toes per print, but kept himself in check. Nick could feel sweat pour down the back of his neck and instinctively reached for his Glock as he quickly scanned the immediate vicinity for any sign of danger. Guidry noticed the detective’s reaction, but kept quiet for the moment.