Randy White - Haunted

I was going through a checklist in my head. An almost new flashlight with fresh batteries. The wind might have knocked it to the ground, but the gravestone wasn’t tall. The lens wouldn’t have broken. The light should still be on.

I peered ahead, seeing only the circle of oaks and darkness. “Change of plans. We have to follow the river north a bit, then we’ll turn inland. There’s something wrong up ahead.” When I started to explain, the river issued a single tumbling splash, then silence. Maybe the gator had taken Theo. I couldn’t be sure unless I went back to check. Tempting, the prospect of jumping in a fast boat and leaving all this behind. I could not pass it up.

“Wait here,” I said. “I won’t be long.”

“Where’re you going? Not without me, you’re not.”

I retraced our path and Belton followed. Near the top of the embankment, I stopped and listened before exiting the bushes. A heavy thumping sound came from the river below… then a loud creak of rending metal. I peeked through: squatting on Theo’s boat, which had drifted to the bank, was Oliver. Had to be Oliver-an ape-sized chimp with arms twice as long as a human’s. Massive shoulders, a distended jaw that resembled a football, but a face that, by moonlight, might have been the face of a man wearing a costume. A rope or his broken collar dangled from his neck. Wearing shorts, too, or baggy cut-off pants belted at the waist, a comedic touch that was in fact grotesque.

Belton whispered, “Where’s Theo?”

I shook my head and watched.

Oliver had ripped the steering wheel from the boat. A ring of stainless steel. He stared as if deep in thought… bent one of the spokes until it snapped and tossed it aside. Then grunted a bass drum UHH-UHH and duck-walked to the stern, where the engine had snagged bottom. He placed the wheel on the deck. The chimp appeared to be hurt, favored his left side like a person with arthritis. Squatted there while an arm unfurled and he dangled a hand in the water. A child playing: slap the surface, watch diamond droplets rain down. Oliver slapped and played, but now his baritone grunts resembled a man who contained his rage by growling.

I leaned close to Belton’s ear. “I’m going to shoot him. Even with a broken steering wheel, I can steer that boat. He’ll kill us. We both know that. But I have to get closer.” Shooting downhill through bushes at a target fifty yards away was too dangerous.

Belton started to say, “Let me-” but then jerked his head downriver and whispered, “What the hell is that?”

The alligator had returned, attracted by Oliver’s splashing, its tail carving a serpentine wake on the surface. The wake rocked our aluminum boat and whitecapped on sand. Only vague shapes were discernible. The gator carried a big chunk of something, an object that sank when its jaws slashed and released it.

Oliver saw the alligator, too, but continued to play his childish game. Splashed and waited until the gator was so close, it vanished from our view. There was a blur of movement, an explosion of water. The next thing I saw, Oliver was hunched low, lifting mightily… the alligator’s head was trapped inside the steering wheel. A snare… he had created a snare. Too much weight to lift clear of the water, so Oliver hammered at the gator’s head with a fist until the animal slashed and rolled and finally broke free.

The chimp watched the thing submerge and went into a rage. Shattered the windshield, ripped a seat off its stanchion and hurled it at the gator’s bubbles. Tilted his head back and yowled at the moon, a chalkboard screech that ended when Oliver suddenly stopped and sniffed the air. Settling back, he sniffed more thoughtfully and slowly, slowly turned to look in our direction.

Belton’s shoulder touched mine. “He smells us.”

“Maybe not. But get ready to run.” Fifty yards, even over open ground, was a long shot, but I had the pistol up, ready to try. Only four bullets left.

Oliver squatted near the steering wheel, his big head and clamshell ears in silhouette. He massaged an elbow, peered at his left hand, which was swollen twice normal size. An injured athlete taking inventory, his behavior reminded me of that. The gun sights of my pistol were three glowing dots that framed Oliver’s chest. I was thinking, Get closer, he’s hurt, just sitting there. You have time.

I was wrong. Oliver exploded again, a blur of movement, and I stood hypnotized by a silver object that spun toward my face. The object sliced the air like a metal Frisbee, whapped through branches on a curving path, and hammered Belton to the ground.

The steering wheel, I realized.

From the river, a bass drum taunted. UCKER… UUHM UCK .

I knelt over Belton for just a moment, then stood. Oliver was on his feet, beating coconut sounds on his chest, his lips peeled back to show teeth. By the time I got the pistol up, he was still there but leaping toward shore. I fired twice… fired again after he stumbled and sprawled sideways into the river… the pistol spouting flames each time. Startling-I’d never shot a gun at night.

“Did you get him? Shit… I think my shoulder’s busted. You must’ve shot me, too.” Belton was dazed and on his side, trying to get to his feet.

“If you can, run to the clearing,” I said. “I’ll yell if it’s okay.” I rushed down the embankment, the whole time thinking, I hit him, I know I hit him… But did I fire three shots or four?

No… only three. The slide of a pistol locks back when empty. In darkness, I stopped and ran my fingers over the barrel to check. Just one bullet left, though. If Oliver wasn’t badly wounded, one bullet might not be enough.

I thought about that. An animal of such freakish size and strength? Of course one bullet wasn’t enough to stop him unless… unless I let Oliver charge me, waited until he was on top of me, too close to miss a shot to his heart or head.

So close it’s up to God to decide. Captain Ben Summerlin’s words flashed in memory, but so did Theo’s threat: Oliver will eat you alive.

I told myself, You can do this, you CAN do this.

Ahead in moonlight, the sandbar and our aluminum boat were in plain view. Seconds earlier, I had heard the chimp thrashing toward shore. If I exited the trees, he would be to my right only ten or fifteen yards away. Not an easy shot, but at least some distance would separate us.

I started toward the river but could manage only a few steps.

No, I realized, I could not do it. First, a chimp bites off a woman’s nose and lips, Lucia has said. I did not have the courage to risk that animal’s teeth in me. Besides, I had Belton to think about. It was a handy excuse that wasn’t a lie, but it felt like a lie when I scrambled up the embankment. Every few steps, I stopped to listen. Silence hinted that Oliver was dead. I became hopeful.

My hopefulness did not last. When I got to the top, I heard the rhythmic slosh of his legs kicking water. The animal walked unsteadily, fell once, but was on his feet. Then a tree limb buckled under a heavy weight and displaced leaves spun earthward into the river basin.

The shriek that came next spooked birds to flight. Through echoes, Oliver called a message to me:

UCK… UCK UN… ITCH!

I was already running when those bass drum grunts transitioned into a howl.

I found Belton at the artesian well, where he had stopped to drink. His shoulder, if not broken, was in bad shape, and pain slowed everything he did. While he steadied himself on his feet, I kicked grass around the grave of Irene Cadence until I was convinced my flashlight was gone.