River of Bones (14 page)

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Authors: Angela J. Townsend

Tags: #louisiana swamp horror ghosts spirits haunting paranormal

BOOK: River of Bones
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A strange glow caught my attention. A flicker of light came from a second story window.

My pulse raced. “Look!”

Wolf eyed the house. “Could it be your mom?”

My heart lifted. “God, I hope so!” I unbuckled my seatbelt and reached for the door handle.

Wolf put the truck in park and switched off the engine. “Wait, let me help you inside.”

I swung the door open. “I can get it,” I said. My knees buckled. Wolf jogged to my side and gripped my arm. “Okay, maybe I do need help,” I said. We climbed the front steps and into the living room. Wolf helped me onto the sofa.

“Stay here,” Wolf said. “I'll check out the upstairs.”

“If my mom is up there, please tell her to come down. I need to talk to her right away.”

“All right,” Wolf said. He hurried to the bottom of the staircase. “Hello? Anyone up there?”

The staircase creaked with each step he took. I wrapped my arms around myself, chills attacking my body. With my last remaining bit of energy, I got up and tossed another log on the dying fire. I returned to the couch and curled up into a ball, exhausted. I'd shut my eyes for just a little while, until Mom and Wolf came down.

I woke with a start, freezing cold. The fire glowed with only a few orange embers. It couldn't have been Mom upstairs. She would've been down here by now. How could Wolf have left me alone in this place? I stumbled to the front door, to see if his truck was still there, my thoughts hazy.

A footstep creaked behind me, then another. “Wolf? Is that you?”

No answer.

I froze standing in the dark. An old woman's voice, crackled at the back of my neck.

“Maudit.”

The sound of my heartbeat roared in my ears. My leg muscles tightened, ready to run. I bolted for the light switch and flicked it on. Light flooded the dingy room. On the dirty floorboards behind me, watery footprints disappeared into the darkness of the kitchen.

Avoiding the soggy footprints, I tiptoed across the floor, snaked my hand along the kitchen wall and turned on the lights. One of the bulbs flickered, then burned out. The other light sent shaky shadows dancing across the room.

The kitchen door stood ajar, the screen flapping in the breeze. A plastic tablecloth on the dining room table shivered in the wind. In a dark corner, a figure in a tattered raincoat crouched on the floor, its back to me. A horrible sound filled the space between us, like teeth crunching into bone. Marrow being sucked from the insides.

“Who are you?” My voiced cracked, so hoarse I didn't recognize it.

The munching stopped. The figure froze, then vanished like chalk erased from a slate. In its place lay a dead seagull, half-eaten. Its pale eyes stared up at me. Out of the corner of my eye I spotted the raincoat again, slithering across the kitchen floor, undulating into a slit in the wall.

Blood pulsed in my ears. I glanced at the wall and then at the mess on the floor. The frail bones shook, scuttling with loud clicks as they bounced on the floor—vibrating and quaking into letters:
Maudit.

I stared at the bones. I wasn't crazy and here was proof. The curse was real!

A hiss curled around the nape of my neck. I tore from the room, a bolt of adrenaline exploding in my veins. I dashed into the living room, grabbed my cell phone and ran.

I tore open the front door. A howling wind shattered across the leaden sky, trembled through the treetops. I stood on the weathered porch, dirt grinding into my heels and stared in disbelief. Wolf's truck sat in the yard, shrouded in darkness like a mechanical monster. He never left! What had happened to him? My heart raced. The last time I saw him he'd gone upstairs, to check on the light we saw in the bedroom window. As much as I dreaded it, I had to go back inside to find him. I opened the door and scanned the living room, my scalp tingling. Nothing. Not one sound.

I raced up the stairs, my body complaining with each step.

“Wolf? Are you up here?” Every word ripped at my tender throat.

A light glowed from under a door to one of the guest bedrooms, which didn't make any sense. There wasn't even a bed in there, just an empty frame. Had the light been on all this time and I just didn't notice it until tonight?

The doorknob turned easily in my hand, creaking as it opened.

A hand shot out of nowhere and gripped my shoulder.

I spun around.

Wolf stood in front of me. “Are you okay?”

I nodded. “Where were you?”

“Checking things out up here. Sorry it took me so long, I found the light on but no sign of your mom.” He reached his hand out to steady me. “Are you okay?”

I grabbed for his arm. “Listen it's real…all of it. The curse, it's real!” I clutched my throat trying to hold back a major coughing fit. “I just saw something so freaky in the kitchen, it sounds totally crazy but all these bird bones were like spinning around, spelling out that word Benny says…maudit…cursed or whatever.”

Wolf searched my eyes as if struggling whether or not to believe me. “Come on,” he said. “Let's go sit by the fire.” Wolf gently took my arm and helped me down the steps.

When we reached the landing, panic reeled inside me. “I have to find the skull now!”

Wolf frowned. “You're in no shape to go anywhere—especially not at night in the swamp.”

“I have to!” I said. “I don't have a choice.”

“It's not safe. I won't allow you to get hurt.”

I folded my arms and shivered. “Well, it's not like it's any safer in here.” Tears of frustration welled in my eyes. “Please, just get me your flashlight, before I chicken out.”

“This is insane, Dharma! It's pitch black and raining. If it has to be done…then I'll do it.”

“No,” I wheezed, my throat on fire. “It has to be me. Remember what Sassy said?”

Wolf nodded. “But that doesn't mean I can't help you.”

“Okay!” I yelled, my voice cracking. “I don't understand why you'd want to. I mean, most people would've bailed on me by now.”

Wolf turned away. “I have my reasons.”

“Like what?” I insisted.

Wolf walked to the living room window and peered outside. “It helps me forget stuff that happened in my life. And I guess I need to feel needed—for once. After my dad died, everything changed. I felt powerless, useless, and then Mom started treating me like I was a child. Instead of giving me comfort, it made me feel out of control. I started drinking hard and hanging with stoners. That's one reason I took this job. So I could help her out and be a man. Grow up before I killed myself, or someone else. It's what my dad would have wanted.”

“I'm sorry,” I said. “I mean about your dad. I've never even met mine but it's still such a huge hole in my life.”

Wolf turned around, his eyes finding mine. “Whatever you have to do, I'll help you do it. But there's a limit. I won't let you kill yourself trying to find that stupid skull.”

“Fair enough,” I said, hobbling into the kitchen. I downed a bottle of water. The pain from my blistered throat spread into my ears. My legs felt like bags of wet sand, every single movement caused my muscles to scream—if I didn't find that skull now, I'd never be able to.

Wolf clicked on the flashlight and led the way down the steps and into the backyard. We followed the weedy path leading to the pond. In the moonlight, the gnarled arms of Hangman's Tree stretched out as if trying to strangle me. A rumbling bellow came from somewhere near, loud and alarming. My neck stiffened. The awful sound repeated, quieter this time, then repeated again and again, each time more distant, echoing into the dark refuge of the swamp.

“That's a gator,” Wolf said. “Be careful.” He waved the flashlight over the weeds as we forged ahead. Rain stung our heads and dripped down our necks.

A rustle came from a stand of cattails near the pond. I froze. Wolf grabbed my arm protectively. To my right, something crashed in the shadows. He held the flashlight high, catching a flicker of gray. A raccoon sprang at me from the bushes, growling and hissing before disappearing into the night.

My heart ping-ponged against my ribcage. I closed my eyes, struggling to regain control, my nerves unraveling. Every movement—every sound—signaled tidal-waves of panic. The farther we walked, the more deceptive the ground became. Tangled clumps of grass hid traps of watery pits. We took cautious steps, letting our feet sink in the mud, searching for solid footing.

When we reached the pond, I peeled off my sweatshirt and stood shivering in the drizzling mist. “Give me the flashlight,” I said.

“Look, this is crazy. You don't know what's in that water.”

“If I don't try—I'll die anyhow.” I pulled the light from his hands, the beam skipped across the murky surface. In the shallows, something splashed, slithering through the bog. I swallowed hard, wincing at my raw throat. The constant drone of insects hummed in my ears. I slipped off my shoes and slogged into the water, sludge oozed between my toes, worming around my ankles. Standing still for several seconds, I filled my lungs with air, steadied myself and plunged into the slimy depths.

I aimed the light into the inky water. Every movement disturbed more debris, clouding my vision. I let my body sink, feeling the temperature of the water drop until I hit the bottom. Piles of sludgy bones lay in tangled heaps of green beneath my feet. Wedged under a thigh bone, I made out the top of a skull. My heart leapt. I yanked it free, wiping away the mud. No gold tooth. I cast it aside, lungs burning, and kicked to the surface. Gasping, I filled my lungs with air, preparing for another dive. My throat tightened. Maybe I'd never find it.

“Any luck?” Wolf yelled from shore.

“Not yet!” I croaked.

“It has to be near Hangman's Tree,” Wolf yelled. “Unless the current took it someplace else.”

My pulse quickened. Wolf was right. The dark outline of the tree stood a few feet from me, dripping with Spanish moss. I plunged back into the bog, swimming past the pile of bones to the massive base of the old cypress. I stuck my fingers into the sand. Nothing. I rose to the surface for quick breath, dove again and continued to search. Next to the tree trunk, tangled roots cradled something in the sand. A skull! I pulled it from its muddy grave, brushing away long strings of algae and muck. Empty eye sockets glared. A golden front tooth protruded eerily. An angry chant hissed in my head, filling my ears with a foreign tongue. Clutching the skull under my arm, I kicked to the surface, lungs ready to burst, emerging under a sheet of hammering rain.

Something skimmed the bottom of my foot, I jerked it away, desperate to get to shore, but whatever it was circled my ankle, pulling me down. I gulped a deep breath before my head went under. Kicking hard, I fought to get away. The grip suddenly released. I exploded to the surface. Mouth wide, gulping a lungful of air, I struggled to make it to shore. The sounds of the bog surrounded me, disorienting me. Which way was it to the bank?

“Wolf!” I sputtered.

“Over here!”

I followed the sound of his voice and collapsed on the shore at his feet.

Wolf leaned over me. “Dharma! Are you all right?”

I could only nod as he gently picked me up and carried me to the house. I relaxed, riding in his strong arms, but I couldn't wait to get rid of the nasty skull. I hated the way it felt in my hands—putrid and slimy.

Inside, Wolf set me on the kitchen floor and bolted the door. I wondered what he was trying to achieve. To keep something locked in or out? It really didn't matter because the curse knew no boundaries. It attacked at random. My heart jumped, sending pain shooting across my chest. My mind raced. How can you fight something you can't see, something cloaked in an invisible hideout? I took a deep breath, released it, searching desperately for that place deep inside where there was stillness. Where there was safety.

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