I was in hell of a fix. I got to my feet and looked for a weapon,
but it was hard to see in the darkness of the clearing. Aside from a firefly here
and there, the only source of the light was the ambient light provided by the
night sky above.
A moment later, laughter – hollow and eerie – echoed through
the strange, swampy woods of the Claiborne Sinks. The source of this bone-chilling
laughter was only about 20 feet away. I turned to look and saw the dreaded
stranger. His old stovepipe hat sat crazily atop his oversized head.
The bizarre stranger adjusted his ancient lantern with a
claw-like hand, and it started to give off an ominous light. He glanced up to
make sure I hadn’t moved, and I knew that he aimed to dissolve me into a weird mass
like Claiborne Police Sgt. Bill Friemann. The thought of the dead policeman
caused me to look down at what was left of his clothes and equipment, all in
one confused pile at my feet.
My hands had been cuffed all day, ever since Friemann found
me standing over the belongings of the missing Prof. Gruner. My wrists were
sore and my hands dripped blood from where I’d smashed the bottle of holy water
in the face of Old Shuck, the stranger’s giant, daemonic hound. I glanced up
and saw the hound at the edge of the clearing, one fantastic shadow against a
forest of secret shadows.
The hound was disoriented and smoke issued from its corpse-green
eyes, which danced like the flames of an emerald fire. I caught another whiff
of brimstone and was jolted back to my senses. I only had seconds to spare and had
to act fast if I hoped to see the sun rise. I had to get the handcuffs off.
As if he read my mind, the stranger closed the distance and
swung his lantern at my head. I heard it squeak, as if it needed oil, and I ducked
to avoid the blow. I rolled and used my cuffed hands to grab my backpack and a
bundle of what I hoped was Friemann’s utility belt, uniform pants and shirt.
The stranger’s momentum caused him to stumble in the dark
and before he could recover, I ran from the clearing and into the thick, dark
woods. I ran as hard as I could, but it was slow going due to the attic-like darkness,
trees and underbrush. I didn’t dare look back for fear that I would stare into
the stranger’s black magic lantern and be blasted from this world like the
police officer.
I held the backpack and bundle of clothes to my chest as jagged
limbs and thorny vines tore at my clothes, forearms and head. I had only two
things in mind. I had to put as much distance as possible between myself and
the mysterious menace behind me and find somewhere to stop and search for the
handcuff keys.
It was morbidly dark, and I had no flashlight. The ground
underfoot began to squish as it became wetter, less firm. I’d lost all sense of
direction, and I prayed that I didn’t step into an empty stump hole.
I eventually stopped to listen and catch my breath. All was
quiet. Not even the sounds of insects or night birds could be heard. As if in
answer to my thoughts, a nerve-wracking howl reached my ears from much too
close.
I began to run. My breath came hard, and sweat poured down
my face. Something supernaturally large tore through the woods behind me. It
sounded like a bulldozer. It snapped limbs and pushed down tree trunks like a giant
in an orphan’s bedtime story.
Suddenly and without warning, I stepped out into unknown nothingness,
and my eyes registered what looked like streetlights in the ghostly distance. A
moment later, the ground disappeared, and I pitched forward into what I
realized much too late was the deep, warm waters of the Alabama River.
My momentum carried me off a high
bluff, and I was reminded that my hands were cuffed as the muddy waters closed
over my head. My boots were so heavy, and I was so tired. The water was warm
and womblike. I began to sink into the darkness.
(All rights reserved. This
story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are
products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance
to actual events or locales or persons living or dead is entirely
coincidental.)
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