Shades: Eight Tales of Terror (8 page)

“Sounds good to me,” Les shrugged. “C’mon Pete, grab one of those arms and we’ll try pulling this guy down.”

It wasn’t easy.

Stiffness had set in long ago
and the dead trooper seemed to resist everything they did. The three men tugged and struggled, having to work the body back up the short limb an inch at a time. They worked hard for every inch. The effort and humidity conspired to have them all sweating in short order despite the chill…but at last they succeeded.

The body slid off the branch with a gristly, sucking crunch.

“And that,” the sheriff puffed, “takes care of that. Les, why don’t you go down to the waterline and signal Earl to come in and pick you up. Take Pete with you, and send him back to me with the tarps in the boat. Oh, and send one of those lanterns from the boat too. Then have Earl run you over to the squad car so you can radio in and have them send up an ambulance for the bodies. Don’t mention the bones.”

“Will do. Will you be here or back up at the cabin? It should take me about thirty minutes to get across to the car and back.”

“Me and Pete will go over the area here one more time, just to be sure we didn’t miss anything. When you get back, we’ll have this guy ready to go. Then we’ll go do the same for Luther.”

“Sounds good. Let’s go, Pete.”

Carl lit another cigarette and watched his two deputies disappear into the darkness of the trees. The beams of their flashlights veered from side to side as they walked down through the woods, and soon the underbrush blocked sight of those as well. Then he was alone, with nobody but the dead man and a couple of hardy winter crickets for company.

And the knowledge he had missed the Cotton Bowl.

“Crap,” he muttered after taking another long drag on his cigarette and looking up at the stars. “I’m getting too old for this. I hate weird stuff, and shit just can’t get any weirder than it has tonight.”

Of course, that was the moment
it sounded like every dog and coyote in Cole County decided to howl at once.

***

“What the hell!”

Les stopped midway in the act of tossing the second tarp out to the young deputy standing at the edge of the water and twisted in astonishment to look at the distant shores.

The baying of dogs echoed from all directions, as if every canine within five miles all decided to howl at the same time. A great cacophony of forlorn cries echoed across the mist blanketed waters. The fog had now settled till it hovered a mere foot over the lake’s surface, turning it into a carpet of white under the rising moon. The sudden chorus of howls added the final, wild touch to the spectral scene.

“Holy shit, Les!” Pete face gleamed even paler in the boats lantern light, “What’s going on out there?”

“Dogs,” the senior deputy growled as if it were obvious.

In truth, Les felt a bad case of the creeps beginning to gnaw at him as well, but saw no good in letting the kid know it. He
didn’t like what he saw tonight. Despite his deep respect for the veteran sheriff, he just didn’t feel right about the older man’s interpretation of what they found. Between this job and his time in WWII, he had seen far more than his share of corpses. He would bet his last nickel Luther Cole had already been dead for hours before the trooper died.

And now apparently every dog in Cole County had decided to serenade them…or something very, very bad just caught all of their attentions.

“I ain’t never heard nothin’ like it before,” Pete continued in hushed tones, “What would make them do that?”

“Moonrise,” the elder deputy grunted, then shot a warning look at Earl when the old boatman looked up in surprise. Changing the subject, he tossed the second tarp to the young man. “Listen Pete, just stay focused and get these tarps to the sheriff. I’ll be back in about thirty minutes. Then we’ll get everything together and get out of here.”

“Yeah, okay.” Pete nodded and picked up the tarps. “And while you’re on the radio, find out who won the Cotton Bowl.”

“Sure thing,” Les agreed, “and while I’m thinking of it…Earl, why don’t you let Pete have the kerosene lantern from the boat. It’ll make it easier for them to see while they get the body ready to transport.”

The owner of the boat nodded and used a long boathook to transfer the lantern over to the young deputy. Pete took the light with a look of relief, obviously happier with the greater luminosity of it compared to the narrow beam of his flashlight.

Le
s didn’t blame him, but had no intention of showing it.

“Alright then.” He nodded. “N
ow that the doggy chorus seems to have died down some, you need to get back to the sheriff. He wants to get out of here too, and he’s waiting on those tarps.”

The senior deputy watched they youngster square his jaw and nod before picking up the tarps and lantern, then heading back into the trees.

“Moonrise?” Earl scoffed behind him, after making sure the young deputy was gone. “I ain’t never heard ‘moonrise’ get that kind of welcome before.”

“Me either,” Les grumped and
sat down near the old fisherman. “But the kid’s had a rough day, and he’s already sort of spooked. The faster we’re all home the better, so let’s get on back to the squad car.”

Earl throttled up the motor and the boa
t glided forward through the carpet of fog.

Les glowered at the distant shore. He felt a bit of relief at getting away from the island and its grisly contents, but uneasy at the same time. The de
puty liked things to make sense. So he felt a little uncomfortable leaving the others back in a situation which made none at all—at least not to him. Carl was an experienced and capable man, but he was beginning to get up in years and all he had for backup was a scared rookie. Despite his relief in getting away from the place, Les wished the sheriff had sent Pete to make the radio call instead.

“Hey Les?” Earl queried as the boat moved through the low fog.

“Yeah?”

“Did you guys leave some kind of light on up at the cabin?”

“Yeah. Luther had a kerosene lantern, and I hung it out front of his shack so it would be easy to find in the dark.”

“Kerosene lantern, huh? Well, look at it now.”

Les turned in his seat and looked back at the dark shape of the receding island. It stuck up out of the mist like a sloping mountaintop poking through the clouds. And at the high end of the prominence, a point of light shone where he hung the lantern next to the cabin.

But now it burned a sickly blue.

“What the hell?” Les muttered again. “When did it start doing that?”

“It looked norma
l when I came in to pick you up.” Earl stared at the distant light. “So it changed sometime while I was picking you up and leaving the tarps with Deputy Pete.”

Les had a sinking feeling when that “sometime” was.

“But what would cause it?” he wondered aloud. “Some kind of swamp gas? On a
hill
?”

“Beats me,” Earl shrugged. “M
y grandma always told me when a flame turned blue it was because the dead were paying a visit.”

“Oh thanks, Earl.
” Les glared at the old fisherman. “That’s just what tonight needed.”

“Aw
hell, Les,” the old man laughed. “You really are jumpy tonight. Relax! I figure the last thing the Sheriff is worried about back there is spooks!”

***

“You ready?” The sheriff knelt by the body and raised the end of the tarp-wrapped figure a couple of inches. “Just slide the strap under here, then we’ll buckle it tight like we did the other two.”

He watched as Pete did as instructed and nodded in satisfaction at the result. Then he snugged the belt firmly in place and buckled it down. They were done. The trooper’s body now lay ready to transport.

“Not bad.” Carl nodded and climbed to his feet. “We didn’t take much time at all. Les probably ain’t even over to the squad car yet.”

“Probably not,” Pete agreed. “What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking I’ve had about enough of this damn place.” The sheriff folded his arms and scowled at the surrounding woods.

“Yes
sir
,” the deputy agreed with feeling. “Don’t tell Les, but those dogs scared the living hell out of me.”

“No problem. We’ll just keep tha
t between us,” Carl sympathized. He was almost, but not quite, willing to admit the sudden chorus damn near gave him a heart attack as well.

The baying had died down over the past ten minutes, but every now and then some distant dog or coyote would still let loose with a tortured howl. In some ways, now the symphony had concluded, Carl found the intermittent cries just as bad.

“As a matter of fact,” he concluded, “why don’t we go on up to the cabin and bag Luther right now. If we hurry, we can be done and waiting for the boat with the bodies ready to go. Grab your flashlight. We’ll leave the lantern here by the body.”

“Sir?”

“It’ll help us find this place again in the dark. We’ll bring Luther’s body back here because this is where Les is going to be expecting us.”

“Right,” Pete acknowledged.

The rookie didn’t look happy about returning to the cabin, but Carl figured there weren’t any happy places left on this island. He set off toward the upper end of the hill with the young deputy bringing up the rear. Staying busy and keeping things moving would help Pete’s jitters, and the sheriff figured it wouldn’t do his nerves any harm either.

In truth, he wanted to get back to civilization in the worst way now. Something “bad” floated in the atmosphere tonight, and despite every objection from the logical side of his mind, his instincts told him they were no longer alone on this island. He had scoffed at Les’s concern earlier, but things had changed. Something m
ade those dogs go crazy earlier. Now his gut told him that “something” now lurked nearby.

Carl learned a long time ago to listen to his gut.

The sheriff’s every nerve keened at alert as he eased through the brush. Once he even shushed Pete when he stumbled on a root, earning him a puzzled look from the young deputy.  He felt slightly silly about it, but his tension was at a level he hadn’t felt since night patrol back during the Great War. And due to his heightened sense of alert, he almost suffered a heart attack again when the second loud sound of the evening occurred.

A thundering bang cracked through
the darkness…causing Carl to nearly jump out of his skin, and the deputy to draw his pistol before realizing he gripped his rifle in the other hand.

“Any idea what
that
was?” Pete whispered as he re-holstered his sidearm with a sheepish grin.

“Yeah.
” The sheriff fought to get his breathing back under control and squinted ahead. “I know exactly what it was. It was the front door to Luther’s shack.”

“What?” T
he deputy’s weak grin froze, then disappeared as the implications of that settled in. “How?”

“I don’t know, but something just slammed the hell out of it. We definitely ain’t alone no more, so stay sharp.”

“It could be Les,” Pete offered.

“Not a chance. Les won’t be back for another ten minutes at the earliest.”

“Christ! Then what could it be?”

“Easy there…
” Carl tried to offer a little reassurance he didn’t feel himself. “It’s most likely some moonshiner who had his own beef with Luther paying a visit. What we heard was probably him high-tailing out of the cabin once he got a good eyeful of what was in there. Still, be careful.”

Pete nodded, seeing the sense in that.

Carl wished he believed it.

He motioned Pete to follow and continued onwards, but at an even quieter pace than before. They were getting close. Glimpses of light from the cabin began to wink between the trees ahead, but Carl found reason for consternation in it as well. The sickly blue illumination coming from the direction of the shack evoked a disturbing childhood memory.

When candles burn blue and dogs cry with fear,

Get thee a bible, for spirits draw near.

The old ditty sung by his grandmother was the very last thing Carl would have liked coming to mind at the moment. He shook his head in anger at his own silliness. Things were crazy enough tonight without that kind of thing. Besides, it wasn’t a candle…it was a damn big lantern, and those dogs had been clear across the lake. If there were such things as ghosts and one caused all this, it would have to be the damn King Kong of spooks.

The sheriff motioned for Pete to slow down, and they made their final approach to the area of the cabin with cautious stealth. A couple of minutes later
, they once again found themselves with backs to tree trunks as the peeked around at the shabby dwelling.

“See anything, Sheriff?” Pete hissed from his position.

Carl held up a finger for quiet and listened.

“No,” he whispered back, “but I heard something moving behind the house. Be still.”