Randy White - Haunted

I wouldn’t search recklessly, though-a concession to the nagging voice inside. First, I sent a text to Birdy that included my location and a few details regarding plans to meet Belton and search for a runaway girl. Then, because I wanted to hear a voice I trusted, I left the same information on the biologist’s machine. Even though he was out of the country, I knew that Tomlinson, his best friend, checks messages daily after pilfering a few beers.

There! It was eight-fifteen on a Saturday night, a busy, sociable hour even in an isolated spot like the campground. Someone might be hosting a party and there was a chance Krissie would join her “friends” there. If Belton wasn’t waiting for me around the bend, there would be enough activity to shield me from Carmelo or anyone else too smart to risk witnesses.

The backpack containing the Devel pistol was on the floor, passenger side. I hauled it onto the seat beside me, checked my rearview mirror, and drove on.

I ROUNDED A CURVE onto a gravel straightaway and, in the distance, my headlights found what I had been hoping to avoid:

SLEW VACCINE AND HERPETILE

TRESPASSERS RISK ENVENOMATION

The warning sign near the gate where Birdy and I had seen a strange muscular little man and heard something stranger escape into the trees.

Still no call from Belton. And no chance he had slipped past me in his rental RV. The road was too narrow. Oaks and mimosas fenced both sides, their canopy interlaced so only a strip of moonlight glazed the road and a serpentine path along the river.

Serpentine… The word jarred a sensitive nerve in my brain, causing it to twitch, then spark. My full attention was demanded. This was not a normal reaction. I knew it. I braked to a stop and told myself, Breathe slowly, the feeling will pass. It had been thirty minutes since I’d exited the smoky confines of the Cadence house. The effects of the drug would gradually wane, not get stronger. That’s what I wanted to believe.

But was it true? Aside from a few puffs on a joint, I didn’t know anything about drugs, especially hallucinogenics-except for what Tomlinson had told me about an uncommon mimosa tree. In South America, native people smoked or inhaled the resin to go on what he called vision quests, a sort of trance that lasted hours, even days. The mimosas of Brazil were massive compared to Florida’s variety. As I could see through the window, the same was true of trees that bordered the road.

The fact was, my symptoms might worsen. Why was I lying to myself?

Serpentine… The word continued to annoy me. It had something to do with Krissie. She had sobbed about things in her head, then mentioned snakes- Gail wouldn’t stop talking about snakes. Gail had also promised to take Krissie to a party. No… another party that was nearby.

From a distance, the sign taunted me- Slew Vaccine and Herpetile . Then the carnival poster of Chuman, the man-beast, tried to force its way into my mind, fangs bared to frame a lewd drawing of a snake. Repugnant. I banged at the steering wheel to banish the image. The message was obvious, yet I wouldn’t allow my imagination to wander into a subject so dark.

“Theo, you bastard.”

Aloud, I said those words. Then pulled the backpack onto my lap and opened it. The Devel pistol was there atop mosquito netting and other emergency supplies. I cracked the slide an inch-yes, the chamber was loaded. I laid the pistol on the seat, lowered my window, and drove ahead.

I was sick and tired of being afraid.

The gate was open. If there was a party, there might be music, so I stopped and listened. Trees harbored a screaming chorus of frogs, but that’s all. I had no idea how far back the buildings were. A long way, no doubt. I angled into the mouth of the drive, my headlights showing a glittering swirl of insects and waxen foliage.

I was so focused on the driveway, I almost missed what happened an instant later: fifty yards down the road, a hunched figure stumbled from the shadows. It ducked my lights, then vanished into shadows on the other side. A second person followed, but much faster, running with an odd loping gate.

I only got a glimpse and was so startled that I sat there dumbly for a moment. I wasn’t imagining things but didn’t understand what I’d just seen.

Two drunks, I told myself.

No, that was wrong. The first person might be drunk but might also be hurt-and was being pursued by a second person who was faster.

Krissie ?

Male or female, I couldn’t be sure. But the person who’d stumbled had appeared too bulky to be a teenage girl. More likely, it was a sizable, overweight man.

Belton.

I shifted into reverse, spun the tires, then kicked gravel again when I put my car into drive.

If I hadn’t been searching, I wouldn’t have noticed Belton’s RV hidden by trees on a utility easement that sliced cross-country from the road to the river. At first I saw only red taillight reflectors, so I backed up, jammed the SUV into gear, and turned toward the ditch.

There it was: a cream-colored camper, the driver’s door open, the vehicle canted to the left on uneven ground. The easement didn’t look drivable and Belton was too smart to try even if he’d had a reason. It was possible he’d suffered a stroke and gone off the road-which would also explain the person I’d seen stumble. If Carmelo had been involved, he had been running away, not in pursuit.

My window was still down. Twice, I yelled Belton’s name, then put the car in park. I didn’t want to get out without first calling 911 and wouldn’t have, but Belton answered me, calling, “Hannah…? I need help, Hannah.” He sounded weak and confused.

My reaction was to act, not think. I threw the door open, grabbed my phone, and ran; jumped the ditch, weeds knee-high. “Are you hurt?” I yelled. “Where are you?” His voice had seemed to come from near the camper, but now I wasn’t sure.

“Here… Can you see me?”

No. My headlights showed the RV in full frame and oak trees that separated it from the road, but all else was moonlight and shadows. “Keep talking, I’ll find you.”

“To your left a bit, dear. My god… I have no idea how this happened.”

“Are you hurt?”

“I… I’m not sure. They got me so drunk or stoned.”

Drunk? I didn’t believe him.

“We have to get out of here, Hannah.”

“Hang on. Everything will be okay,” I said. But I was starting to panic because I was almost to the RV and still couldn’t see him.

“A bit to your right, dear, then keep walking straight.”

I did, taking long strides. The RV, with its door open, was directly ahead but with no dome light on to show what was inside. I had to kick my way through palmettos to step up on the running board… then nearly fell back because of the smell-a fecal musk I instantly associated with sickness. Yes… the old man had suffered a stroke and lost control of his bodily functions. I forced myself to confirm the cab was empty, then pushed away.

“Say something, Belton. I might have to go back to my car for a flashlight.”

“I’m feeling… woozy.”

His voice seemed to trickle down from the trees-impossible, but sound plays tricks in the woods, especially at night.

“Shake the bushes, if you can. Am I getting closer?” I assumed he had collapsed on the ground so was tromping a slow circle around the camper.

“My son was here,” Belton replied in a dreamy way. “I keep hoping.” Then he mumbled something else.