Billy: A Tale Of Unrelenting Terror (5 page)

Sheriff Galliano kept his concerns to himself, but he knew he was going to have to do something about the emerging situation soon. He was starting to have a bad feeling that this was only the beginning. There was something new going on deep in the swamp, some predator that was hungry and growing bolder, a predator that had an appetite for human flesh.

Chapter Seven

Attic

"
G
o on, now. Do as I say, boy," Poppie snapped.

"What if he wakes up?" Justin asked.

"Then get da hell out of da way and I’ll blast ‘em," Poppie answered. "He ain’t gonna wake up no how, not after all dat tranquilizer I put in dat
gumbo
."

"Come on now, Jus. I ain’t gonna be da only one gotta touch dat
zeerahb
t’ing," T-Roy shouted at his brother.

"Dat’s enough out of you two! I got da gun on ‘em, so’s no worries. Just do as I say, and it be all over soon," Poppie instructed the boys.

The idea came to him out of desperation not long after the oil worker came up missing. Although the man was never found, the St. Pierre clan knew what happened only too well. The poor man got killed and eaten by the same creature that lived under their own roof.

Even Dorcelia understood that something drastic was going to have to be done, though the stubborn woman would never relent to having them do what was necessary. Poppie argued to no avail, but his wife never wavered. She didn’t seem overjoyed at his proposal either; none of them did, but no one could offer up any viable alternatives.

There was only one solution left for them, only one place they could put the boy where he could cause no further mischief. At least they waited until Dorcelia was out of the house before setting their plan in motion.

The boys lumbered slowly as they carried their sleeping brother to the spot under the hole in the ceiling. They sat him down as gently as they could, trying desperately not to awaken the beast.

"How we gonna git him up dere?" asked T-Roy.

"Justin, go fetch da ladder," Poppie said.

"Ain’t no way we gonna be able to carry him up no ladder…" T-Roy began before he felt the sharp slap of his father’s hand across his cheek.

"Enough of dat back talk,
couyon
. I ain’t no
bioque
!" Poppie snarled. "Go get da rope and dat pulley from ‘round da back. And tell Justin to get dose chains when he finished wit dat ladder."

T-Roy and Justin did as they were told. Before long, they had the rope and pulley in place. T-Roy carefully threaded the rope around Billy’s chest and tied it off, then the two boys scampered up the ladder to haul their heavy load up into the dark confines of the hot attic.

Poppie stood below, with one hand on his firearm, and carefully guided their quarry into the small opening as the boys pulled on the rope. Once Billy was in the attic, T-Roy and Justin lowered him to the dank wooden floor and tried to catch their breaths as Poppie climbed up to help secure the beast with the heavy iron chains.

"What you two jus’ sittin’ ‘round for? Dere’s work to do," Poppie admonished the boys.

"We jus’ catching our breaths. Dat boy be heavy as
merde
," Justin answered.

"Dat’s ‘cause I was doin’ all da work,
paresse
, lazy son of a bitch," T-Roy muttered.

The boys began to push and shove on one another before an unexpected sound made them stop dead in their tracks.

"Aaaa aaa aaa," Billy moaned.

Poppie cocked his gun and pointed it at Billy. They all stood silently for a moment, staring at the poor child who lay still on the dusty wooden floor beside them.

"Sshhh," Poppie whispered. "We better get him chained ‘fore he wakes up. Justin, T-Roy, pull him over dere by dat post, and we’ll lock him up and get out of here."

The three of them worked quickly and quietly to secure the sleeping boy before he came to. Billy was beginning to move a bit and groan incoherently as the tranquilizers wore off. None of them wanted to be there when he woke up and found out the predicament he was in.

After they had their brother’s chains secured to both his legs and the heavy wooden beam, the two boys grabbed the pulley and rope and quickly climbed down the ladder. Poppie handed his gun down to T-Roy and flashed his light once more in Billy’s direction.

The hairs on his neck stood up when he spotted the beast’s beady eyes staring back at him, burning red with hatred. Poppie shuddered, and then climbed down the ladder, pulling the square wooden door over the hole behind him, leaving his youngest son in the dark.

Poppie and the two boys stood in the living room of the small cabin and stared at the ceiling. They could hear the occasional clinking of chains as Billy moved around the small space overhead; then silence. Several moments passed before the men looked at each other and sighed with relief.

"See now, dat wasn’t so bad, was it?" Poppie stated, satisfied with his idea and the apparent successful results.

"EEEEEEaaaaaaaahhhhhhhh!!!!"

The blood curdling scream that echoed from above shook the walls and rattled the windows of the small, wooden shack.

"
Oo ye yi
! Dat give me da
freesons
!" T-Roy blurted, his voice shaking with fear.

"I got da
mal au couer
," Justin said and ran out the door before losing the contents of his stomach into the murky water out front.

"You two bunch of
capons
," Poppie stated. "Dat t’ing is chained up tight, I seen to it myself. I jus’ hope he shuts up ‘fore your momma come home. Goin’ to get enough grief ‘bout the situation as it is."

Crash! Bang! Crash! The booming sounds came thundering down from above, increasing in intensity and fury with each successive beat.

"He’s goin’ to tear down da whole cabin, lest he settle down," said T-Roy.

"EEEEEEEaaaaaaaagggggghhhh!!!"

"Don’t you worry none," answered Poppie. "He goin’ to calm down in a bit, once he sees he stuck."

Poppie hated the beast that he imprisoned up in the attic, but he learned to respect the child’s resilience. Poppie learned all too well that the demon spawn that haunted his existence wasn’t going to wallow in despair, or be done away with so easily. No matter what cruelty or danger life threw the boy’s way, the little
bebette
managed not only to survive, but to master it. Poppie tried to explain this to his wife, but he lacked the vocabulary or communication skills to make his point understood.

Poppie St. Pierre knew that the monster was a punishment for his unspeakable sins. The beast was sent from hell to exact revenge on him for his actions and deliver justice for his forgotten daughter. In the end, Poppie realized he would have to kill the creature, or it would feast on them all. Unfortunately, there seemed to be no convincing his wife of the inevitability of the situation.

He couldn’t understand why Dorcelia was so steadfast in her demands that the monster’s life be spared. He knew she was as afraid of the thing as the rest of them. Secretly, Poppie believed that his wife recognized that Billy was going to slay them all one day, but accepted their fate, maybe even welcomed it as their only chance for eternal salvation. Poppie St. Pierre didn’t hold out much hope for eternal salvation; he knew his soul was damned.

"EEEEEEEaaaaaaaaagggggghhhhhhh!!!"

"
Fils de putain
! Son of a bitch!" Poppie muttered to himself.

The unnatural sound of Billy’s screams sent shivers down his spine. He didn’t have to wait for eternity – Poppie was in hell already. The Devil was upstairs in his attic, for now. Every once in awhile, he knew he would have to go up there to feed and water it; Dorcelia would demand it. Poppie wasn’t about to argue with her about it. He figured that the only thing worse than having to feed the beast was risking it starving up there.

If Billy got desperate enough, even those heavy chains weren’t going to hold him. No, Poppie thought, he would give it just enough to survive, but not enough to grow strong. If they got lucky, maybe the thing would grow weak enough that he could kill it one day when Dorcelia wasn’t around, and he’d do away with their curse once and for all. Until that time came, they would all have to wait it out.

"EEEEEEEaaaaaaaaagggggghhhh!!!"

T-Roy looked at Poppie, his eyes wide with fear. "I got da
faiblesse
, I’m gonna faint."

"Steady, T."

"I jus’ hope we ain’t gotta go up dere for any t’ing."

"No reason to. No reason to ever go up dere again."

Chapter Eight

Wrath of God

B
y the time Dorcelia got home, Billy had settled down. The only indication that he was up in the attic came from the occasional rustling of chains they heard overhead. As long as Poppie put some water and food within reach of the lonely beast, all was well.

It was the one chore that Poppie hated beyond all else, but he resisted delegating it to others. He knew that one misstep and things could get ugly fast, and he didn’t want to risk T-Roy or Justin’s lives unnecessarily. It was his punishment to have to tend to the demon in the attic, and he performed it begrudgingly.

Besides having to carry the food and water bowls up there, he also had to bring the empty bowls back down. Along with these came the not-so-empty buckets of filth. Billy was a nasty creature who created gut-wrenching amounts of the foulest smelling refuse one could imagine. Every time Poppie found himself hauling another bucket of waste to the outhouse, he dreamed of the day he could kill the beast once and for all.

It wouldn’t be long now, he thought. The next chance he got when Dorcelia wasn’t around, he was determined that it would be the last time any of them would have to deal with Billy again.

It was a hot summer that year, and the smell from the attic was rancid. By the end of August, the stench was unbearable throughout the small cabin. Flies swarmed incessantly around their house, crawling on every surface and making everyone miserable. Poppie and the boys complained relentlessly about the situation, but Dorcelia was unsympathetic to their plight.

"You t’ink you boys got it rough, I’m here all day and night," she replied when prompted.

"You right," Poppie would answer. "Maybe you need to go to town and pick us up some sweet-smelling candles or some t’ing to help rid us of ‘dis stench. And get some t’ing to drive dese flies away ‘fore I lose my mind."

Dorcelia could sense that her husband was trying to get her out of the house, and she had no problem figuring out why. She knew it was only a matter of time before she relented and allowed the man to do what was necessary, but she held out as long as she could. In her heart she understood that it would be best for everyone, including the poor, unfortunate boy chained up in the attic, but it was hard for her to let go.

As terrifying as he was, Billy was the only thing Dorcelia had left of her long-lost Lillian. She mourned her poor baby girl and what her husband – what they all – had done to her. Once Billy was gone, there was nothing left on earth to bear witness that her child had ever existed. There was only an unmarked grave deep in the swamp by an old abandoned plantation that served as her eternal resting place.

There was little doubt in Dorcelia’s mind that the eerie and remote location was inhabited by scores of restless souls that had suffered greatly in life and spent their eternities haunting the creepy swamp in search of their tormentors. Billy would soon take his place amongst them, and she lamented the fact that his soul was perhaps the most tormented of them all.

Dorcelia finally relented and made plans to go to town on the last Sunday of the month. Toward the end of the week, outside events undid her plans for good.

Poppie and the boys were out front, unloading some of their fishing gear from one of the
pirogues
, when they heard a boat approaching. Dorcelia stuck her head out the door at the unexpected and unwelcomed sound of uninvited guests arriving.

"You get back inside woman, and do it quick," Poppie commanded.

"What if Billy…," Justin began.

"Hush, now. Let’s see what da commotion ‘bout first," Poppie answered.

A boat came around the bend, within sight of the St. Pierre cabin. It was Jean Landry and his son, Robert. They cut the motor and drifted up slowly toward the house.

"Hey dere, neighbor," Jean called out while waving his arms.

The Landrys knew that their neighbors didn’t like visitors, and they tried to avoid coming this far into the swamp even when invited. This time, they weren’t invited, but the impending situation demanded that they forgo standard precautions and make an exception.

Poppie and the boys stared silently at their uninvited guests. None of them were smiling, and Poppie unconscientiously toyed with his shotgun while watching the Landrys approach. Jean and his eldest boy looked cautiously at one another before Jean nodded for Robert to halt the boat so that they wouldn’t drift too close.

"Sorry ‘bout the intrusion, Poppie," Jean stated. "Dere’s some news I gotta pass on. Sheriff himself goin’ ‘round gatherin’ up da folks, but figured even him not gonna come way out here. I told him me and Robert here would come out personally and see to it ourselves. Storms a comin’. S’posed to be a big one – monster, dey say. Da authorities say everyone gotta get out now whilst dey can. Me and the family gonna get out ourselves dis time, and you know we not doing dat lightly. We offerin’ to take you and yours if you want. Christian t’ing to do and all."

T-Roy and Justin looked over at each other, not knowing what to think. Dorcelia stayed inside the cabin, unseen by Jean and his boy, afraid of what she knew her husband was going to say.

"Appreciate dat, Jean," Poppie answered. "But we be jus’ fine. Ain’t da first storm dat come dis way, and won’t be da last. We never left before and don’t see no reason to now."