Fishing in Brains for an Eye with Teeth (Thirteen Tales of Terror) (22 page)

Kyle immediately shot holes in this theory.  “In the first place, Doofus isn’t
smart
enough to come up with an idea like this.  And second of all, even if he
could
dream up something this elaborate, he’s too
lazy
to do this much work!  What?  You honestly think Doofus and his goons are gonna come back here, capture and drug all these animals, and then drag off the dead carcasses, all just to scare us?”

Drake said good-naturedly, “Well, when you put it like
that
. . . .”

Roger suddenly said, “If the bodies were drug off, why aren’t there trails of blood?”

They all looked again and saw Roger was right.  While there were still large puddles of blood congealing at the various kill sites, there was no indication the oozing remains were drug away.

“This is fucking spooky,” said Kyle.

Drake pointed a grin at Kyle.  “Well, don’t shit yourself, Cainer.”

“At least not until Joe shows up,” added Tom.

Tom, John, and Drake shared a grin.

Roger suddenly said, “I’m gonna go look for ‘em.”  He strode off toward the woods. 

John asked, “Look for
what
?”

“The bodies,” said Roger.

Drake called after him, “You’re just trying to get out of helping us put up the tent again!  Asshole!”

Roger shouted back, “Dickhead,” and disappeared into the woods.

The others set up camp.

Drake apparently wasn’t ready to give up yet on his theory that this was some kind of conspiracy.  “Well, if not Doofus, maybe somebody else.  Somebody who knows we were coming out here this weekend.”

Tom looked like he was ready to burst into laughter again.  “You mean, like someone who has a motive for wanting to spoil all our fun?”

Drake nodded.  “Yeah.”

Tom tried to sound ominous: “You mean someone like . . . our
women
!”

Drake cackled at this and John laughed too.

Drake said, “Fuck, it all makes sense to me now!”  He cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted at the woods, “JODY!  THE GIG’S UP, BABY!  YOU CAN COME OUT NOW!”

This time, Kyle couldn’t help but join the chortling.

By the time they had camp set up again, they were all drunk.  Roger came back from the woods to report he’d found, “Nothing.  Not so much as a
dribble
of blood.  I did see more animals though!  I ran into a skunk with one hellava nasty attitude!”

Tom sniffed the air. “Couldn’t have had
that
nasty an attitude.  You still smell like shit.”

Roger punched Tom in the arm.

As they were passing around another joint, Drake suddenly perked up, nearly shouting, “We should try the lake!”

The other four looked at him with confusion. 

Drake clarified, “Fishin’.  We should do some fishin’.  See if we can catch anything.  See how
big
the fish are.”  He looked at Kyle as he postulated, “Maybe that’ll at least tell us if there’s something in the water.”

Suddenly, Kyle wasn’t all that eager to fish.

Roger, the only one who didn’t bring a fishing pole (he was a hunter, not a fisherman), told the others, “I’m going to build a fire.”

Drake, Tom, and John all grabbed their fishing poles and began baiting their hooks with night-crawlers.  Seeing Kyle digging in his backpack instead of the bait containers, Drake asked, “‘Sup, dawg?  Aren’t you going to join us?”

In response, Kyle pulled out a baggie of marijuana.  Smiling, he made his excuse.  “I brought some, too.”  He held up the ziplock bag for them to see.  “Sensimilia.  Dynamite shit.  You guys go ahead.  I’m gonna roll up some blunts.”

They couldn’t argue with that.

John was the first to finish baiting his hook.  He hopped up and strode toward the water.  Drake stopped him.  “Let’s do this together.”

“A’ight,” said John, understanding perfectly.

A minute later, Drake, Tom, and John all threw back their arms and cast their fishing lines into Bullet Lake.

Kyle was seated in one of the folding lawn chairs they had brought.  He looked up from what he was doing, interested to see what happened.

The
instant
the bobbers hit the water, they were all dragged under.

“Holy fuck!” said John as he began cranking his reel.

Tom’s grin was huge. “Goddamn!  I got a big one!”

Drake laughed like a kid.

Kyle muttered to Drake as he watched him: “You’re going to get us all killed.”

Three largemouth bass, all weighing at least five pounds, were reeled out of the lake.  After removing the hook, John held his fish aloft and shouted, “All Hail The Fearless Bass Killers!”

Everybody laughed.  Even Kyle laughed, and then he finished rolling a blunt.

Drake announced, “We’re going to eat these puppies!”   They had brought hamburgers and hotdogs with them but they all agreed that fresh fish sounded better.  Drake dug into his own backpack and came out with a knife and a tool to remove the scales from the fish.  As Roger got the fire going, Dupree cleaned their catch.

Tom guzzled another beer, postulating, “Maybe there is something in the water after all.”

Kyle was so buzzed by then, it was starting to sound plausible to him.

Apparently everyone else was thinking the same thing.  John nodded.  “Yeah.  It’s about the only thing that makes any sense.”

Roger gave them a sharp look but they just looked back at him.  Silently the message was conveyed. 
Injun Joe makes more sense
.

No.  That makes no sense at all
.

Roger suddenly grabbed his rifle, stood up, tipped his beer can straight up, guzzled the contents, and then crushed the can.  Instead of tossing it in the nearby pile that they had made, he surprised everyone by saying, “Fuck you, Joe,” and threw the can in the lake.

Drake, Tom, and John all snickered.  Drake tipped his beer to Roger, then guzzled the last of his brew, crushed the can, and echoed the sentiment: “Fuck you, Injun Joe!”  He threw the container for his silver bullet into the lake.

Tom and John quickly added two more “Fuck you”s and two more cans.

Roger disappeared into the woods.

Drake, Tom, and John all stared at Kyle, who was sipping his beer.  Kyle looked at his friends and said, “This is the part of the horror movie where the audience says, ‘They’re all going to die.’”

John winced and seemed a little unnerved but Drake quickly jumped up and said, “Well, if we’re all gonna die,
you’re
going with us.”  He stomped over to where Kyle was sitting. “Either drink that beer and throw the can or you’re wearing it, buddy.”

Tom and John both smiled.  They all knew Drake was serious.

“Fine,” Kyle said, sounding pissed off, even though a smile was playing at his lips.  He tipped back his can and guzzled his beer, his swallows sounding loud and squishy.  When he was finally done drinking, he belched, then crushed the can, and threw it in the lake.  “Fuck you, Joe.  I will fear no Injun.”

Tom laughed.  Drake grinned and walked over to the cooler for more beers.

From the woods they heard the loud crack of Roger’s rifle.

“How does he
see
out there?” asked John.  All the shadows were now gone, blotted out by real darkness.  The sky was filled with millions of stars—one to match each of the crickets that sang to them.

Tom said, “He’s got the eyes of a cat.”

Bathed in the light from their bonfire, Drake muttered, “Ain’t that dark yet.”

Kyle said ominously, “Full moon tonight.”

Drake tossed a beer first to Tom, then one to John, then one to Kyle, before cracking one of his own. “What’cha sayin’, Cainer?  You really
do
think Joe is gonna show up tonight, don’tcha?”

“Fuck, no!  I was just makin’ the comment.”

“Right,” said Drake. 

They all knew, according to legend, the ghost of Injun Joe was fond of appearing on nights when the sky was clear and the moon was full.

Fifteen minutes passed, as they continued to drink and smoke and talk about the Legend.  Finally John said, “I wonder if Roger’s okay.”

Drake stood up and shouted, “HEY LUNKHEAD!  YOU STILL ALIVE OUT THERE?”

From the forest, Roger shouted, “NO!”

Tom giggled.

A couple minutes later, Roger returned with rabbit on a stick, the animal already gutted and cleaned.  John grimaced.  “You’re not going to
eat
that, are you?”

“Better this than the fish
you’re
eating.”

Drake ribbed Roger, “Spoken like a true homo.”

“Fuck you, douche bag.”

Drake served up fish on paper plates to Tom and John, and then took one himself.  The three of them kicked back in lawn chairs.  Just as they were about to eat, John said, “Hey wait.  If there
is
something in the water affecting all these animals, couldn’t we, like, maybe
catch
something from the fish?”

Tom’s eyes sparkled.  “Some kind of drug that makes us stand around like a bunch of stoned, lazy idiots?”  He shoveled a mouthful of the steaming fish into his mouth. “Gee, that would be terrible.”

Drake laughed.

Kyle was the only one of the group who didn’t eat something he killed.  Instead he ate a couple of raw hot dogs.  “Aren’t you going to even
cook
those, Vet boy?”

“Nope.”

“Ya know,” mused Drake.  “You couldn’t do the animal community a greater disservice than to eat a hot dog.  There are the parts of what?  Maybe a dozen different animals that go into makin’ those things.”

Kyle fired back, “Oh, there’s a greater disservice I could do . . .
 
I could hang out with a bunch of gun nuts.”

Roger grabbed his rifle and his beer and stood up.  He staggered three steps to his left while guzzling half the can in five loud swallows.  Swaying, unable to stand still he was so drunk now, he groused, “Gun Nuts?  Who the fuck are you calling nuts?”

“You, Lunkhead, and
all
these mutherfuckers.”  Kyle gestured at the others.

“Gun Nuts, huh?”  In the firelight, Roger’s pale tight face looked particularly crazed, his eyes glittering brightly.  “I’ll show you nuts!”  He started shooting at the lake.

Kyle dropped his beer, startled by the gunfire.  Everyone cringed.  Roger shot the lake three times, in rapid succession, and each shot seemed louder than the last.

Kyle was screaming, “Goddamnit Lunkhead!  You made me spill my beer!”

John chastised Kyle, “That’s alcohol abuse!”

Kyle roared at Roger, “You
are
fucking nuts, you goddamn ape!”

Roger put down his gun so he could pound on his chest, then howled like a gorilla.

Drake laughed so hard, he shot beer out his nose.

As they all finished eating (Roger only picked at his rabbit before breaking open a can of Pringles) the Fearless Five got serious about getting a better buzz.  They smoked a round of blunts, then another.  They broke out the Jack Daniels and everybody did a shot of whiskey.

For about an hour they continued to talk about how strange this place was.  The darkness became stronger but there were minimal clouds tonight and the starlight was bright.  When they heard the first owl, Roger’s ears perked up.  Seeing Roger’s reaction, Kyle told him, “No.  You do
not
need to kill an owl.”

Roger retorted, “Maybe not.  But maybe I
want
to.”  At this point, however, Lunkhead was all bluster and no action. 

They had put their guns to bed for the night.

Or they thought they had.

Finally they grew tired of talking about giant fearless animals and the Legend of Bountiful Woods.  The topic of conversation turned to their favorite subject: pussy.

Kyle, now drunk and completely relaxed, teased Drake, “So now that you’re married, you get laid, what?  Once a month?”

Tom snickered.

John said, “Oh, man!  That’s
brutal
!”

Drake retorted, “No, Captain Celibate.  In case you’ve forgotten, Jody married me because she can’t get enough of this.”  He grabbed his dick through his jeans.  “And that hasn’t changed since we got married.”

Tom jumped in, “That’s not what you said when she was pregnant!”

Drake glared at Tom.  “Well, yeah, but
that
was different.  And lucky for me, I had Kelly to get me over that little hump.”

Kyle hadn’t heard of Kelly.  “Who’s this you’re humpin’ now?”

Tom told Kyle, “They haven’t fucked.”

Drake bragged. “She works for my dad. 
Sweet
little thing.  Short blonde hair, nice ass, big tits.”

Tom sipped his beer after correcting Drake. “Average-sized tits.”

Drake ignored Tom. “Fucking sexy as hell.”  He grinned. “I had a hard time during the last couple months of Jody’s pregnancy.”

“Hard,” repeated Lunkhead and snorted laughter.

Drake was still grinning lecherously. “Sometimes after work, Kelly would help me out.”

John laughed.  He had heard this story, too.  “That’s the kind of help we
all
should get from a coworker!”

Kyle had a suspicion he knew what happened but asked anyway, “What did you guys do?”

Drake shrugged.  “Nothing much.  I’d just kick back behind my desk and she’d suck my cock like a high class whore!”

Tom scoffed.  “Like you’d
know
what a high class whore is like.”

Kyle couldn’t seem to figure out whether to be disgusted or impressed (although admiration appeared to be winning.)  “You aren’t even married a
year
and you’re getting blowjobs behind your wife’s back?”

Drake looked at Kyle like
he
was the crazy one. “If I’d been getting blowjobs in
front
of my wife’s back, I wouldn’t have had to go behind her.”

John, Tom, and Roger all snickered.  Roger laughed particularly hard, sounding a lot like an excited mule.

Kyle wanted more details. “So, how often did she used to blow you?”

Tom took another sip of his beer after saying, “
Used
to?”

John chuckled.

Kyle picked up on that.  “What?  She’s
still
blowing you at work?”