Fishing in Brains for an Eye with Teeth (Thirteen Tales of Terror) (23 page)

Drake shrugged.  “What can I say?  The woman must have a protein deficiency!”

Tom laughed hard at that and Drake snickered at himself.

“I don’t believe you,” Kyle said, throwing back his drink.

“What Jody doesn’t know won’t hurt her.”  The grin vanished from Drake’s face.  “Besides, it’s not like I really even
wanted
to get married in the first place.  She trapped me by getting pregnant.”

Kyle’s mouth fell open.  “I don’t believe it, man.”  He’d never heard Drake talk this way about his wife.  “I thought you two were, like, the perfect couple!”

Drake said sourly. “We were.  Until she went and got herself pregnant.”

For a moment Kyle didn’t seem to know what to say.  Finally he settled for, “Holy fuck, man!”

Drake suddenly brightened again, recapturing his good humor.  “At least I’m getting sucked
and
occasionally fucked.  If all I did was study all the time and whack off,” he made a jerk-off gesture in the air, “I think I’d go insane!”

Kyle rolled his eyes and his drunken head rolled with it.  “Fuck you, man.  It’s not like I haven’t gotten laid at college.”

They all knew about last Christmas break, about his one-night stand at Homecoming time.  John voiced what they’re all thinking, “What?  Once?”

Kyle reluctantly said, “Twice, actually.”

“What?  Did Jaws come back for a second munch?”  Everyone cracked up except Kyle.  His one-night stand was with a sexy redhead with a killer body but she also had braces that earned her the nicknames, ‘Jaws,’ ‘Metal mouth,’ and (Tom’s) ‘Edie Scissormouth.’

“Nooooooo . . . I got laid a couple of months ago.”

“Really?” said Tom, sounding skeptical.

“Really?” said Drake, sounding both amused and skeptical.

“Yes, really,” said Kyle, the color rising in his cheeks.

Tom snickered at his own joke before saying it. “So, who was this new chick and where were
her
braces?  Her legs?”

Roger loudly injected, “He wishes!”

There was a pause, no one seemed to understand what that meant, and they all burst into laughter (all but Kyle, who was still blushing.)  Drake called Roger a, “Lunkhead!”

Tom turned back to Kyle. “So who was this chick?  How’d you meet her?”

Kyle squirmed.  “She was . . . um . . .”

“What, man?”

“Spit it out, dude.”

“. . . my roommate’s girlfriend.”

“What?”

Everyone looked confused. “You banged your roommate’s girlfriend?” asked Drake.

John piped up, “Who’da thunk he’d have the balls.”

Kyle held up his chin now, saying, “Yeah.  She’s
hot
, too.  A black chick.”

“Really?” said Drake in a high voice.  He suddenly held up a hand for a fist bump.  Kyle extended his fist to touch Drake’s.  Drake gushed, “Way to go, man!  I’ve always wanted to fuck a black chick!”

John said, “You just love women with big asses.”

“Damn straight,” Drake admitted.  “God bless the ghetto booty.”  He stopped to consider this, and then (in a routine they’d seen before), he added, “Oh wait.  He already did.”

Tom asked, “So, is your roommate black?”

“No.”

Drake was still ranting.  He slapped Kyle on the shoulder, saying, “Mister Cain scores Big Time!  I never knew ya had it in you, dawg!”

Roger blurted out, “Once you go back, you never go black.”

Drake, Tom, John, and Kyle all laughed at him.  Drunk, Roger wanted to know, “What?  That’s what they say!”

Nobody bothered to correct him.

Tom still wanted to know more about Kyle’s conquest. “So, what?  Your roommate’s girlfriend came on to you while he was out of town or something?”

Kyle was indignant. “Why do you assume it wasn’t
me
that came on to
her
?”

Drake laughed like this is hilarious.  He answered for Tom. “Because we
know
you, dawg.”

“For real.  You never woulda gotten it on with Metal Mouth if she hadn’t made the first move.”

Drake gave Kyle a piercing look.  “So, tell us the truth, my man.  What
did
happen?”

Under Drake’s intense stare, as it had happened so many times before, Kyle found himself admitting what he’d rather not. “It was a pity fuck, okay?”  His face was red again, this time with anger.  “My roommate felt bad because I hadn’t gotten laid in so long.  He talked his girlfriend into sleeping with me!  There!  Are you happy?”

The color started to fade from Kyle’s face but then came back stronger than ever.  His burst of anger was gone, just that quick, and now he was more embarrassed than ever.

The guys started to snicker, then broke into open laughter.  Roger’s laughter got louder and louder until he was braying like a donkey.  He repeated, “Pity fuck!” and then laughed some more.

Kyle hung his head, unable to even look at any of them.  He wondered why in the Hell he’d agreed to come on this stupid trip.  At this particular moment, he was determined this was his
last
time partying with these assholes.

Drake came over and dropped an arm around Kyle’s neck, consoling him. “Don’t sweat it, Cainer.  A fuck’s a fuck, right?  The important thing is you got a nut.”

Kyle looked doubtful, like maybe that wasn’t the most important thing in the world, but he nodded in response.

Drake looked at Roger. “At least he can
get
some pussy.”

That shut Roger’s laughter up.

For a moment there was silence, except for the sound of the crackling fire.  Then the wind suddenly picked up, rustling through the trees.

Kyle threw back his beer, guzzling the last out of his current can.  As he drank, he looked up at the sky and saw the full moon rising.

At that exact same moment, John said, in a wavering voice, “Guys?”

They all looked at him and then looked at where he was pointing.

Far across Bullet Lake, the five of them should have been able to see the lights of Flagg City (which was actually a tiny town).  They couldn’t see any of the cabins on the other side of the lake, however, because of a thick fog.

“No fucking way!”  Drake sounded excited, not at all afraid.  “No fucking way!”

The fog bank had already piled high on the lake and was moving slowly toward them.

“Check out the moon,” said Kyle and he
did
sound frightened.

Above them, the full moon had risen above the tree-line and was bathing the clearing in shimmering light.  Everything got brighter.

Drake barely glanced at the moon.  He was more interested in the fog bank coming toward them.  “That’s some kind of smoke machine, right?  That’s gotta be, like, what do you call it?  Blue ice?”

“Dry ice, moron.” said Tom.  “And there’s no fucking way!  To make
that
much fog would take the fog machines of The Who, The Stones, and about ten other classic rock bands!  There’s no fucking way machines are doing
that
!”

John’s voice quavered as he said, “I don’t fucking believe this shit!”

Kyle looked at him and then looked at the fog rolling ever closer.  He shook his head.  “There’s gotta be some logical explanation for all this.”

“There is,” insisted Drake.  “Dry ice.”

“Bullshit!” said Tom, nearly shouting.

Roger sounded totally spooked as he said, “It’s Joe.  It’s just like in the story.  It’s Injun Joe.”

Tom and Drake shouted at exactly the same time, “BULLSHIT!”

Roger threw down the can of beer he was holding.  It splashed, then tipped over and spilled.  Wasting a half can of suds like this was a testament to how frightened Roger was.  He hopped up, hurried over to the tent and grabbed his rifle, then checked to make sure it was loaded.

Watching him, Drake quipped, “What are you going to do with that, Lunkhead?  Shoot a
ghost
?”

Kyle guzzled his beer before he stood up.

All the Fearless Five stood together and watched the fog come rolling in, Roger tightly gripping his gun before his chest.

“Okay, so what?”  The volume had bled from Drake’s voice.  He didn’t exactly sound afraid but he didn’t sound like his normal cocky self either.  “So it’s getting foggy?  So
what
?  It’s just a coincidence.”

John whined, “Dude!  The guys in the legend said something just
like
that!”

Kyle and Roger nodded at this.

Drake angrily slapped John’s shoulder. “Oh don’t
you
start!  I expect hysteria from Lunkhead and Cainer but not from
you
.”

Tom spoke up, sounding nearly as pissed off as Drake, “There is no such thing as ghosts!”

Kyle pointed out, “Until tonight, there was no such thing as this
place
— it didn’t fucking
exist
— and you know it!”

“Bullshit!” said Tom.

Drake called it, “Horseshit.”  He went on to say, “We were
kids
when we went looking for this place the last time and we were stoned out of our
minds
!  We just missed it, that’s all.”

Kyle called that, “Bullshit,” then added, “And you know it.”

“What I
know
,” shouted Drake, “is that there is nothing
supernatural
about that fog!”

It was right about then that the fog reached shore.  John suddenly broke away from the others to grab his own gun.

Tendrils of mist slithered toward them, like groping ethereal tentacles.  And still the fog rolled closer.  As it finally reached the Fearless Five, Roger was wincing, as if he was expecting something painful or maybe even deadly.

Instead, he gasped, as he shuddered violently. 

All five of them were immersed in a frigid cold.  The temperature dropped at least forty degrees.

“Holy fuck!”

“Goddamn, that’s cold!”

“What the hell?”

Roger rushed over suddenly and got in Drake’s face. “What were you saying about the fog?”

For the first time, Drake Dupree seemed to be at a loss for words.

A stillness came over everything.  There was a heaviness to the frigid air, a thickness to the chill.  They could hear nothing but their own breathing, which was pluming up hot from their excited lungs, mixing with the mist.

“This is insane.”

They were all looking out toward Bullet Lake when the light appeared in the distance.  They all jumped, two of them gasped, one of them squealed, and Roger said immediately, “Okay, that’s it.  I’m outta here!”

Drake grabbed Roger’s arm.  “No fucking way, Lunkhead.  You’re staying
right
here
with us.”

Tom hissed, “There is no fucking way that light is some fucking lantern being held aloft by a goddamn ghost!  No
fucking way!
”

“It’s probably somebody in a boat,” said John.

Tom added, “Yeah.  It’s just some guy in a boat.  He didn’t turn on his lights until the fog came up.”

Drake gestured at Tom and John.  “What they said.”   He turned Roger around and gave him a little push toward the light.  Roger immediately took a step back.

Kyle had said nothing but the plumes of his breath were puffing from his face with increasing speed.

Drake couldn’t seem to let go of the notion that this was all somebody’s idea of a practical joke.  Breaking ranks, he walked over to retrieve his own gun, muttering, “Whoever it is, they’d
better
be out there by coincidence… because if this is somebody’s idea of a sick practical joke,
I’ll
be the one they oughta fear.”

Tom was wearing an expression like he just had to eat his least favorite food.  All his good-humor and bravado were gone and he seemed annoyed that he was suddenly forced to take this situation seriously.  He didn’t say anything as he went to get his own rifle.

Around them, the fog became agitated.  It swirled and spiraled and broke apart, as if blown away by some kind of downdraft whirlwind.  In a matter of a few seconds, the mist on shore broke apart, allowing all of them to see each other again more clearly.

The terrible chill was also lifted from their bones.

Moonlight shined down on them.

Across the lake, the fog was still thick and churning.  And somewhere out there in the middle of that cloud, a light was burning brightly, a light with a flicker to it.

“That sure
looks
like fire.”

Kyle agreed with Roger. “It’s definitely not a flashlight.”

“Somebody’s fucking with us.”  Drake was muttering so softly, they could barely hear him.  “Somebody is definitely fucking with us.”

Without warning, the light across the lake began moving.

“Oh, shit,” moaned Roger.  “It’s coming right for us!”

Drake sounded annoyed when he said, “It’s just some jerk-wad in a boat.  You can bet your skinny white asses that ain’t no ghost!”

“But the light—”     

Drake cut him off, “The light is a lantern, all right!  The dude in the boat has a lantern!”

Kyle’s face was as white as the fog.  “A
lantern
?  This is 2012, asshole!  People carry fucking flashlights, not
lanterns
!”

Tom said the craziest thing, which didn’t exactly break the tension but did momentarily ease it. “What kind of goddamn Injun carries a lantern in the first place?  Didn’t Indians use
torches
?”

John had heard the old legend told many more times than the others.  In a whiney voice, he said, “The lantern isn’t his.  It belonged to Joe Flagg, his first victim.”

They all remembered that it was Joseph Flagg— the first settler of Trinity County— that the ghost borrowed his name from.

Drake gripped his gun tighter as he hissed through gritted teeth, “That ain’t no fuckin’
ghost
.”

“Quiet!”  Tom suddenly hissed, causing Drake to point an annoyed expression at him.  Roger said, “What?” and Tom shushed him.  “Listen.”

They listened but heard nothing, not a bird, not a wave on the lake, not a sound.

“I don’t hear anything.”

Tom’s face furrowed, his frown sinking lower.  He looked at Drake and said, “No sound of a motor.  No sound of oars.  And all the crickets have stopped chirping!”