Eternity Swamp (4 page)

“Webb paused and waited for some recognition from Sam but Sam hadn’t a clue to what Webb was referring. Disappointed, Webb continued, “There’s quite a difference between sinking a lifeless body in these black waters and holding a live one under water watching the light go out in their eyes. Watching the last bubble rise up and pop at the surface.”

“Webb gave Sam a cursory once over again. “Tell me Mr. Lake, when old man Burris was squirming under his pillow, kicking as best he could for his last breath, how did you feel? Powerful? Like a god? You had the ability to let him live or die. How did it feel?”

“Ol’ Sam thought back and recalled it didn’t feel anything like power or strength. He’d been scared. Webb looked at Sam and as if he read Sam’s mind. “Yes…and that’s why, Mr. Lake, you are a lame horse, as they say. To reinvest in you would not be prudent. I just would not see the proper return.”

“Webb puffed on his cigar while looking Sam over and shaking his head. “I will tell you something else Mr. Lake. The slough that feeds this old swamp flows from a swamp up by the prison. Did you know that?” This time Webb did see a sign of recognition in Sam’s eyes. Webb smirked. “You wouldn’t believe what washes down here. Have a look. Go ahead, I
insist
.”

“The way Webb had said “insist” and the look he gave Sam, made Sam feel like a frightened child, so he complied.

“Sam peered into the murky water. Bubbles were slowly rising from the bottom. He tried looking harder, to penetrate the black water to see what was making the bubbles. He saw the rotting corpses of Indians and some blacks slowly rising from the depths. Some were missing their eyes, ears, or noses, some their fingers, hands, or toes; chewed off by the swamp critters. Sam screamed and lunged back.

“One by one, they planted their feet on the soggy bottom and began walking and crawling toward him. Frozen in fear Sam laid against a stump, whimpering, as they loomed ever closer.

“Mr. Webb was slowly blowing on the glowing ember of his cigar. He said, ever so nonchalantly, “Mr. Lake, I can’t speak for all of them, but I’m quite certain I detect a lot of anger resonating from a select few, in particular the darker variety. I do believe they mean to drag you to the bottom. If I were you, I’d run.”

“Sam hauled tail out of there as fast as he could. He had no clue what direction he should run. Everywhere he looked he saw mangled, rotting, soggy corpses crawling toward him, grabbing at his feet, touching him with their cold, wet hands. He screamed every time he felt their touch.

“He wasn’t looking where he was going and ran into something soft and sticky. It kept him from falling but he couldn’t break free. Looking about, he saw it was a giant spider web. He flailed about trying to free himself, but to no avail. He stopped to catch his breath and looked around for the spider. In the moonlight, he saw web after web, one after another running off into the swamp from tree to tree. Each had something large, the size of a deer or large dog wrapped up in a cocoon.

“Please, Mr. Webb, help me!” Sam cried out.

“From somewhere in the darkness he heard Webb reply, “Be there directly, Mr. Lake.”

“He saw the ember of Webb’s cigar getting closer. The objects caught in the webs started to squirm. The closer Webb got the more they moved about, faster and faster. Sam heard the muffled cries pleading, “Oh God, please, no more!”

“Webb approached Sam and looked him over with a familiar, unpleasant smirk.

“Help me, Mr. Webb. Set me free,” Sam begged.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that Mr. Lake. Our relationship, our arrangement, is about to pay dividends, for me.” He pinched Sam’s backside. “Yes, you’ve grown. Oh, in how many ways, you’ve grown. It’s always a pleasure to see my investments mature.”

“What?”

“You know, Mr. Lake, you’ve a
terrible
habit. It’s impolite to say,
what
. It’s proper to say, ‘pardon me.’”

“Pardon me,” whimpered Sam.

“That’s better, but I’m afraid I can’t pardon you either, Mr. Lake. You and I, and the rest of my business partners…” Sam watched as once again Webb motioned with his strange hand indicating all those trapped in the webs, “have to spend some time together.”

“How…how much time?” asked Sam.

“Why eternity, Mr. Lake. Eternity…”

“Mr. Webb, I’ll do anything, anything…”

“You’ve already
done
everything, Mr. Lake. Now if you please, we must get down to business. I need to ‘wrap things up’ as they say. There are matters in Europe, which need my attention, in particular, Germany. The most wonderful things are taking place there as we speak and I need to get in on the ground floor as they say.”

“Sam watched as Webb’s head started jerking like he was having a fit. Webb’s eyes moved slowly apart and his face split in two like a rotten peach. The split ran right down to his chest and long hairy legs pushed through, slowly unfolding, prodding the air searching for a solid foothold. From out of the lifeless Mr. Webb costume a gigantic black spider emerged, fangs clicking and glistening with huge drops of venom. It moved ever so slowly toward Sam, clicking away.

“Sam was screaming and flailing about in the web. He felt those enormous fangs sink deep in his flesh and thought his whole body was on fire. Then…he couldn’t move, not even blink. The world began spinning and spinning as he was wrapped up in a cocoon, only his face was left uncovered.

“Some say on nights like tonight you can hear Sam and the others screaming as Mr. Webb comes visit his old business partners and make a withdrawal.

“There ya have it, son. Oh look, your dogs are back. And just in time for sunup. Well, that’s east of course, so that way is south toward Sneads. I reckon you should be able to find your way out now. Pardon? Oh, the pleasure’s been all mine son, all mine. Why thank you, I’m glad you enjoyed the story.

“You know J.W., I see something in you I really like. I might be able to help a young feller like you. You come back and see me again sometime. Come again? Well…you look like a J.W. Me? My name? Oh the name’s Slither. Mr. Slither.”

A word about the author…

T.C. Tereschak is a horror/suspense writer, a history enthusiast and lover of mystery and the macabre, and enjoys writing about the odd and eerie, enjoined with universal themes: love, family, and the dichotomy of good and evil.

Thank you for purchasing
this publication of The Wild Rose Press, Inc.