The Island - Part 2 (Fallen Earth) (10 page)

“
We-lee-um come out. I want play.”

A stunned bleat of fear burst from my chest the second time it spoke, the sound stuck solidly between a grunt and a curse. Wind, even if it existed, might moan through the wires in a close approximation of a single word. No wind that had ever existed could produce an entire sentence.

I stared as what lay beneath the tarp shifted.  Something jerked sideways, and then bolted upright in the middle of what should have been his stomach. The tarp jutted straight up, crackling as it went, the sound like someone walking through dead and dry leaves. Whatever lay beneath it turned quickly, first one way then the other, as if scanning the horizon through the dense plastic and just as suddenly shot back down.

Silence. Still and calm.

Then a soft, hoarse whisper slid through the empty air. 

“
We-lee-um come out. I want play forever.”

“Holy shit!” I gasped, my own voice just as hoarse.

The far edge of the tarp jerked. Zachary’s head shot up, the angle so fierce that bones crackled and crunched. Dead, glazed eyes looked back at me.

“We-lee-um?”

The voice came out of his mouth, the same horrible gaping hole in the bottom of his face that looked big enough to fit a softball. His head bobbled like a puppet, like God was having some fun and jerking on his strings.

“
Come play here.”

I stood frozen in th
e cabin, with no options and nowhere to turn. I could run to the forward bunk, but on a twenty-three-foot boat, that mean putting another ten feet between myself and the apparition sitting in the back of the cockpit. The only other direction available was toward it.

The boy’s face rose as if leaning back to yawn. His throat bulged and pulsed, growing thicker by the second until it looked like a fat white sausage stuffed so full it would split at any second. Bones cracked. Air hissed and farted out of the deep pit that had been his mouth. Then, as if I needed one more thing to make me crap my pants, an ear emerged, long, skinny, and hairless.

Another followed. Right behind them both came the bulge of something round and gray. Teeth flickered out of Zachary’s cavernous mouth, scattering across the cockpit floor like dice with roots tossed by the devil.

I couldn’t breathe. I’m sure a hero would have taken up his sword and slain the beast dragging itself out of the boy’s cold flesh. All I could do was watch.

Wide grinning eyes, with yellow where the whites should have been and dark slits for pupils, poked up next. Zachary’s lips stretched taut, pulling away from his teeth until they looked paper thin. Just when it seemed the throat had to burst, a long crooked nose flopped out. The rest of the face slithered out, slimy and wet, like a baby that had just passed its crown.

“
Just you, just me, we play,
” the thing breathed in a long hiss, revealing row upon row of sharp, triangular teeth. It leaned forward, jerking the kayaker’s head back down amid the snap and crackle of bones being ground fine, and puked pounds of torn flesh and organs onto the floor. Clotted blood and chunks of ragged meat spewed across the fiberglass sole.

“Bats go upside down, We-lee-um. Like dead boys float upside down.”
it rasped in its toneless voice.

Zachary’s throat flexed and writhed as if packed full of wriggling worms. The skin was stretched so impossibly tight that it seemed any second it would split wide open.  A fat lump swelled at the base of his neck and worked its way upward. The thing struggled to free itself, and finally with a sigh, leaned forward and vomited another large mass, this one full of meat chewed into dark brown slivers. The tension in the boy’s throat relaxed enough for the thing to work one long, bony arm free. The look on its face came as close to sorrow as I believe possible on such inhuman features.

“
Supper gone. I hungry,”
the creature moaned.

I stared, dumbstruck as it slid another arm free. Both limbs dangled for a moment, long, thin and spindly. Its hands were gnarled, each with three long, finger-like claws arranged
in such a way that one served as an opposable thumb. They looked capable of either grasping or acting like three pronged scissors.  It hooked its fingers at the corners of Zachary’s mouth and forced its body upward.

Daniel’s words echoed through my mind as I watched.
“You’ll have to kill him again.”

I glanced right and saw the butt of Dad’s rifle still mounted on the inside bulkhead that stretched back underneath the cockpit and framed the port side seat. Dropping the wad of bedding, I lunged for it and worked feverishly to free the gun from mounts designed to keep it secure in the worst of weather. My fingers shook and my heart pounded, but the hasps holding the rife to the wall proved strong and stubborn.

Outside, the beast gave a satisfied grunt. I looked around the edge of the hatch. Wings unfolded behind it, rising high and wide. It flapped them experimentally, shrugging off grisly bits of flesh in the process.

I turned back to the gun, stifling a grunt of my own. Mine held no satisfaction though, just fear and frustration. Every time the thing moved the sound of bones cracking and skin stretching filled the air. I knew it was close to setting itself free and tried to steel my nerves for the task at hand. The back latch came free, suddenly and simply. I jerked on the rifle, literally prying the front latch out of the fiberglass.

The weapon felt solid and capable in my hands.  Dad had fitted a black, nylon bullet sock around the stock.  Brass gleamed like gold from each of the six slots. I pulled a round free and fed it into the chamber, fingers suddenly calm, following a process he had ingrained in me year after year. Three or four times every summer, he had packed up his truck, loaded me in the passenger’s seat, and driven up into the mountains for target practice. We never hunted, but we blew the hell out of bottles and cans.

A heavy thump shook the cockpit. I stepped back to the middle of the hatch. The thing had finally freed itself. It rose out of the shadows, standing on top of what had been Zachary’s chest. The feet were long and skinny appendages, stuck at the end of bowed, knobby legs and terminating in curved claws that clicked against each other when it moved. Its stomach hung fat and distended, bulging downward like an obscene beer belly. At most, it stood maybe two feet tall, though the wings stretching out behind it looked twice as wide.. The few hairs that stood out from the slick, gray skin were wiry and thick.

As improbable as the sight of it crawling out of the boy’s mouth had been, the thought of it worming its way in seemed equally impossible. I fed the last round into the magazine and jacked one into the chamber.

It looked up with yellow eyes and studied the rifle. Something like a grin split the imp-like face wide open.

“
I hungry,”
it whispered.

I brought the rifle up to my shoulder.

“No, you dead,” I said and pulled the trigger.

The thing flung itself sideways so incredibly fast the motion streaked a gray blur across the back of the cockpit. It landed on the opposite side, claws scratching at the fiberglass as it scrambled for purchase. Yellow eyes glared back at me, eyes full of anger but no pain.

I levered another round into the chamber and fired again, this time jerking sideways with it as it shot back across to the other side. The bullet passed through one leathery wing, leaving a perfectly round black hole.

It howled in pain and rage.

”
Master kill you!”

The distinctive ratcheting sound of the lever sliding back and slamming home echoed through the cabin.

“I got one of these for him too.”

I squeezed the trigger again. Flame flared across the opening. The little imp-beast screamed in pain and flopped across Zachary’s body like a wounded bird.  I worked the lever again.

The creature jerked at the sound and threw itself into the air. I ducked as it swooped close overhead. The instant it passed, I stepped out into the open cockpit, brought the rifle to my shoulder, and gritted my teeth in frustration.  I had no idea what the thing was, but the night swallowed it. The heavy whoosh of wings struggling for altitude grew fainter and more distant as the seconds ticked away.

I needed light. Inspiration dawned bright in my mind. I leaned over and flicked the switch that turned on a glaring floodlight at the bow. A bright beam shot out over the sound, highlighting murky water ahead, but not the sky. Still, far ahead light flickered off something moving high in the air.  I shouldered the rifle, took a deep breath and squeezed off another round.

A scream split the darkness. Far ahead and away, water splashed. I leaned against the bulkhead, stifled my own panting breath, and listened. The seconds passed, dragging out for a minute or two, but heard nothing else. I had no idea if the last round had hit it or not. That single splash could have come from a fish jumping or a bird diving into the water.

Something squished under my sneakers. I looked down and saw the tripe the beast had regurgitated in order to squeeze out of the boy’s mouth. When I turned, what remained of Zachary’s body nearly made me add my own dinner to the mess in the floor.

It lay deflated, not munched into bits, but flattened out in the midsection. The legs still retained their shape, as did the arms. Loose folds of skin lay between them.  Even the bones were gone. The head lay canted to one side, supported by Angel’s gunwale as if he were using it as a pillow. A neat, round hole sat high on his forehead an inch or so above his right eye. I didn’t have to investigate to know that one of the bullets had pierced his skull.

Daniel’s words slipped through my mind. “
You’ll have to kill him again.”

Another hole gaped where his navel had been. I remembered the head poking up under the tarp and wondered why the beast hadn’t just crawled out there. A grisly thought slid through my mind. Maybe that was just its blow hole or maybe it had simply chewed a big enough spot to talk through.

With the threat suddenly gone, the adrenalin surge left me weak and trembling. I needed to sit and give my body time to recuperate. I had no intention of staying in the boat though. Nor did I want to enter the cabin again. At the same time, I had no choice. I needed more bullets and they were in a locker inside.

By the time I’d made it to the buggy again, my load had increased. I’d come for the blasted sleeping bags and was, by God, taking them back with me. Zachary, or what was left him, lay under the tarp again. Aside from the sleeping bags, I’d brought a flashlight, a pair of knives, Dad’s partially used box of bullets, and the rifle.

I’d intended to use the flashlight like a headlight for the buggy, but left it switched off. The little vehicle’s electric engine made virtually no noise. The path was as dark going back as it had been coming, but I had no intention of advertising my position by burning a bright hole through the darkness. I let the buggy ghost along, silently, with the only sound coming from the faint whir of the motor and sand hissing under the tires.

Admitting you’re scared is hard for anyone who has left childhood behind. It’s okay when you’re young. You’ve not yet reached the age when science has explained that night holds no monsters, and the terrors that stride across our imaginations are nothing b
ut fairy tales.  I was scared--not of the night, not of my imagination, nor of fairy tales, but of a waist-high demon imp who had a taste for body parts. I had no idea where it went, if it had kept flying or had circled back around hoping to ambush me at an opportune moment.  I drove with one hand and clutched the gun with the other. If the thing swooped down on me from behind or at some odd angle, I couldn’t be sure the barrel would be pointed in the right direction. But, I could sure as hell make certain it wasn’t out of reach.

Twenty minutes later, the station swam into sight as I cleared a stand of trees. Lights blazed from the windows. On the porch I could see figures moving. Only then did I feel comfortable enough to set the rifle down in the seat beside me. My hand struck something rectangular and hard in my jacket pocket when I did. I reached inside and pulled out the pack of cigarettes I’d picked up in the cabin. I let go of the wheel and lit one while letting the buggy coast along by itself. I needed the harsh rasp of smoke and the calming effect of the nicotine more than I needed to drive.

The buggy rolled up in front of the station with me reeling from the tobacco-induced high. I waited for it to pass before I climbed out. Elsie, Joshua, Tyler and Kelly stood on the porch.

“Where have you been, Hill William?” Elsie demanded, clutching her jacket close about her body.

Joshua glanced at her, and looked back at me.

“We heard shots, three or four of them.”

I grabbed the rifle and climbed out of the buggy. All four of them froze.

“From me,” I said, even though the announcement wasn’t needed.

I walked up into the light.

Tyler frowned. Kelly looked scared.

Elsie reached out and took my arm.

“What happened to you?”

I looked at her.

“Where’s Daniel?”

She drew her hand back hastily and stiffened.

“Why? What do you want him for?”