Dead Reflections (28 page)

“Unbelievable,” Terry muttered. “No, not your story!” he exclaimed when he saw Emily’s face. “Just the facts of what happened.”

Emily nodded, grim. “Duane came back a few days later. Quiet, moody, changed from what he was. He started going down to the well all the time with animals he’d caught in traps, offering them to the darkness in the well. He wished for things with his tokens; for money, for longevity. We came into money in odd ways for a while…an inheritance from an aunt of his who just up and died without good medical cause; insurance from an automobile accident when some car, without reason, suddenly swerved and slammed into Duane, killing the driver but Duane walking away without injury. Blood money, I called it. That’s when things between him and I got really ugly. He laughed at me when I threatened to expose him. He said, ‘go ahead; see who believes you. You bring them down here and all they’ll find is rank well water with too much iron in it. Guess where the iron comes from?’ He came home less and less. One day I found his body half in, half out of the well…torn to shreds like some big animal had gotten him. Maybe he wanted to die. He’d become completely devoted to them, getting fresh meat for them—whenever they wanted. He’d become one of them.

“You sell this house, Mr. Cobb. Put it back on the market and get your family out of here. I tried destroying that well. I poured poison into it. I used holy water. I even tried setting off dynamite in it…Duane kept the stuff around to get rid of boulders out in the fields…nothing worked. Every time I took a stand against it, it took a stand against me. They got into the house, into the pipes, into the foundation, into the core of my home. Accidents, mishaps, and now the sickness. So, I left while I could. But I can’t sit here and watch this happening to another family.”

Terry’s fingers shook as he finished his cigarette. He looked at Emily. “So what am I supposed to do? You’re telling me dead people are in my well, and that they still move about. My wife wanted this house. She loves it.”

“You love your wife and boy? You leave with them. You go now while you’re all still safe. The Waters, Duane, and the others they associated with…they’re in the ground, in the ground water, in the soil, in the property. You can’t get rid of them. They’re in every cell, every ounce of soil, every rain drop here, Mr. Cobb. I have nothing else to tell you, except leave with your family while you still can. All I’ve ever told is the truth. I hope you’ll believe me instead of just thinking me another senile old woman who’s lost her mind. You can take my advice any way you like. Thank you for the smoke. I bid you good day.”

Emily got out of the truck and shut the door. Terry watched her walk away in the reflection of his rearview mirror. He smoked another two cigarettes once she disappeared around the bend, and he mused over what Emily had told him. He wanted to scoff, but the gooseflesh along his arms told him otherwise.

* * *

Twilight, the sky clear and freckled with stars. Terry made his way down to the well with the body of a young mourning dove that he’d hit by accident in the road while driving into town after Emily had left. He’d gone to the beer store to get a six-pack; he needed to quell himself. Jan had taken Cory into the village to get Cory a new pair of running shoes. She’d come home with two more bills; more than they had the money to pay that month. He felt desperate.

He stood in front of the well he’d just boarded over, and using a pry bar, removed one of the boards. He tossed it aside to the ground and stood before the dark, foul hole, containing the toxic ground waters and the remnants of killers.

“I don’t want to become one of you,” he said, making his wish. “I just want some extra money so that I can take care of my family. Okay? So, I’m offering a small thing. A little favor for a little extra money. If you want more meat, I’ll get you meat. I’ll get you blood.”

He left the dove’s body on the boards and stepped away from the well. Within a minute something approached through tall grass opposite him, and when it stepped out into the moonlight, Terry knew that it was the entity that had been Emily Gerhard’s husband. He was naked, his skin as slimy as his soul, his eyes filled with the light of greed, pestilence, and…admiration.

“So…you aren’t so chickenshit, after all,” Gerhard told him, its teeth shining like pearly needles behind its blackened, wet lips. “The bigger the gift, the bigger the prize. Bring something larger if you want to keep your home.” Its breath stank of decay.

Two days later Terry discovered he’d won several hundred dollars on a chance lottery ticket he’d purchased on a whim earlier that week. He returned to the wishing well that evening, this time with a young buck he’d shot in the woods that morning.

“It’s bigger,” he told the things in the well. “How big do you need for me to be able to pay off my house? I need three hundred thousand dollars just for that. Okay? Just that. I’ll be able to afford the rest.” He left the deer on the wood and watched as its body was dragged over the edge, followed by a splash of fresh blood as they dug into it.

His bank account read an extra ten thousand dollars a day later. Better, but not good enough. Terry sat and thought about what he might be able to offer next that would bring about the kind of money they needed to pay off the house. Cougar perhaps? Bear? Jan came into the room behind him and lovingly stroked his head.

“You seem so lost in thought these days,” she murmured and kissed his cheek. “Where’d we get the several extra thousand from?”

“Old business contact I’d forgotten about,” he lied. “Extra money came through.”

In fact, his business had declined over the last little while, given all that was going on.

“I’ve got to go into town to pick up some groceries,” she said. “I’ll be back in an hour.”

“Okay.” He kissed her on the lips and thought it better she be away from this place anyway. He had to find something bigger to offer them while she was out. She couldn’t discover what he was up to. She’d never forgive him.

An hour later, as he prepared to hunt for bear or moose, the doorbell rang. Terry answered it, to discover two police officers standing in his doorway, their faces grim.

“Are you Mr. Cobb?”

“Yes,” he paled. Had someone witnessed his offerings at the well, he wondered?

“You might want to sit down, sir. We have terrible news,” one of the officers said.

* * *

Jan was gone. Car accident; weird accident. She’d swerved, on a dry road in clear daylight, their car hurling through the covered bridge and into the river below it. She was killed instantly. Cory survived with only some bruising. As Terry sat, his hand shaking with his cigarette later that evening, Cory sobbing in his grandmother’s lap, it occurred to him that Jan had taken life insurance out on herself while she’d worked…two hundred fifty thousand dollars, enough to bury her and to take care of her husband and son, should anything ever happen to her. He knew, before the funeral parlor called with more terrible news, that her body would go missing. He knew where it would be and that she’d be one of them by now; the price enough to pay for this house. He couldn’t say a word if he hoped to save Cory. He placed the house up for sale the next day, stating they couldn’t stay there, given their pain.

He didn’t bother to cover the well again before they moved. It would make no difference. He couldn’t say a word to the new buyers. He took the insurance money and he and Cory drove back into the city, but he never stopped checking his rearview the entire time.

The End

By

Carol Weekes

It had rained all week and the weather report was pessimistic about when the downpours would end. Water churned past sidewalks, miniature rapids overfilling gutters, flooding basements and turning everything into a soppy mess. Drew listened to the radio for another few minutes, but when two songs in a row sucked, he shut it off. He’d left the village perimeters behind, the pickup truck’s wipers barely swashing a clear view of the path ahead, and moved onto the back roads towards home. It was going on a little past four in the afternoon, the clouds as black as coal dust as another storm front moved in on the tail of the last. Crazy weather. Things had been a little odd around town lately. Folks complaining of bad dreams and restless nights. Animals acting strange. A freak twister had torn the roofs off two houses and a barn just last weekend. A lightning strike had started a massive fire in an animal feed processing plant. And someone from the town had gone missing—old man, likely dementia, Drew figured, who’d just ‘up and disappeared’ a few days ago according to his grieving relatives. Local police and rescue workers were still out there, combing woods, fields, and nearby rivers and creeks in hopes of finding him.

His cell phone rang. He flipped it open. “Yeah?”

“It’s just me,” Bonnie, his wife said. “Are you on your way?”

“Just left the dump. What’s for supper?”

“Potatoes, burgers, corn.”

“Got beer?”

“Picked you up a case of twenty-four earlier today.”

“Good girl,” he said. “I’m looking forward to just sitting down with one after supper.” His back was killing him. He hauled junk for a living, some of it salvageable, some of it worth a bit of money at local dumps. People were always looking for someone with a truck to get rid of stuff. He sidelined in grass cutting and snow removal to help make ends meet. He knew almost everyone in town. When he saw the dark figure walking along the road, hunched forward under a wet, black umbrella, he slowed a little, not wanting to splash the man with the puddles that had formed in deep potholes. He didn’t recognize the figure. The man wore a long, black coat that appeared to be drenched, and the umbrella was the wide variety with many silvery spindles that held each section tightly apart, like webbed fingers. Drew debated whether to offer the guy a lift. Where he might be headed on a back road like this, moving away from town rather than towards it and with another five or more miles before he’d reach anything else like it, was anyone’s question. It was early September and the nights had already begun to cool. Still, Drew wasn’t fussed for picking up strangers.

He tapped the brakes as he eased up on the figure, moving out into the opposite lane so as not to over-drench the fellow. The guy was stick-figured and held both of his hands high to chest, the fingers intertwined and as pale as his coat and umbrella were dark. He wore a somber fedora-style hat pulled over his brow so that only the lower portion of his face showed. The blackness of the umbrella spread behind his head like a geometrical awning. Drew noted a long chin and a pair of thin, dark lips that were pressed tightly together. Linear shadows spiked each cheek bone. He stared at the man as the truck eased by the figure, wondering if the fellow might summon him for a lift. He rolled down the passenger-side window.

“Where you heading, buddy?” Drew called.

The man’s head twisted towards the truck and Drew saw a pair of eyes burning a brilliant vermillion beneath the brim of the hat. The eyes had no whites, just a lurid lamp glow that lit the underside of the hat in the way of coals reflecting inside a hearth. A stab of horror made Drew step hard on the brake pedal, forcing the truck into a fishtail that hurled a wall of water at the man, coating the black umbrella and soaking the coat even further than the rain had already done. The dark lips spread apart as his mouth came open in a hiss, revealing two rows of broken tooth shards, the ends black with decay, as obsidian as the clothing and the formidable bumbershoot. Then a long black tongue, skeletal like a withered licorice whip, shot out of the man’s mouth, several feet long, and bore in through the open passenger window—its tip split into two ends, each bearing what looked like jagged tarantula fangs. The fangs caught the fabric of the seat and hooked on, pulling themselves towards Drew. Drew shrieked. He got control of the truck, planted a hard foot onto the gas and tore forward. He heard the thing scream as the tongue got stretched beyond capacity, then let go with a snap.

Drew felt his stomach seize as vomit tried to reach his throat. He raced, almost blind to the torrential rain, hitting potholes blindly until he felt he’d gained a safe enough distance from the thing that he’d thought was a man, before he finally slowed the truck and pulled over to the side of the road. He went to roll the window back up when he saw that one of the tongue claws was still attached to the seat and inching its way towards him, as if aware of his presence. A ragged piece of dark, leathery flesh trailed behind the ebony claw that pulsated as it moved with a life of its own.

“What in the hell?” Drew opened the glove compartment and found what he sought: a heavy duty flashlight that he kept in the truck for emergency purposes. He used it as a baton and smashed the claw, repeatedly, watching the thing gyrate, then fall, trembling to the seat beside him. He raised the flashlight to hit it again, but saw it finally go still. Drew let his breath out. His heart pounded through the veins in his neck and temples and he broke out in a sweat despite the cooling weather. He didn’t want the thing in the truck with him, but it was the only proof he had. He’d take it to the police.

He rummaged through the glove compartment until he found a small, metal matchstick holder. He emptied the wooden matches into a plastic bag, then used lid of the holder to push the now defunct claw with its ribbon of horrific DNA into the container. He sealed it and left the container in the ashtray where he could keep an eye on it until he could get home. As he drove, he kept his gaze rotating, from one side of the road to the other, convinced he’d see the umbrella man with his reptilian mouth hunched in a ditch, waiting to leap at the windshield. He pondered about telling Bonnie. At least he’d have the tongue-claw as evidence to back himself up. He wanted to get home and lock their doors and windows. Because now he thought he knew what had happened to the missing man in town. Somehow, this creature had blown in with the rain and landed here, like a mutated insect caught on a foul cross-breeze, and it wanted flesh. He’d go to the police later. Right now, he needed to get home and secure his house.