Swamp of Shadows - Chapter 3

Over the edge, I kicked backwards and stamped my heavy heel on its curled fingers. But its fingers were incredibly tough. Gripping my foot, the beast
emerged from the hole, its huge head swiveling. I shifted my weight and
kicked with my free foot, knocking a fang from its lower jaw. Tom seethed.
“Cut the rope!” I yelled, fishing for my granddad’s pocket knife. “Cut the damn rope!” Emily went for it, slicing clean through the rotten, slime – covered hemp.
“Soccer’s a sport for wimps!” The severed line slid through my legs faster than a race car and Tom howled as he tumbled into the depths of the pit.
“ I’m up to my hairy neck in trouble, babe.”
Emily nodded, squeezing back through the creaking, leaking copper pipes. The groaning water pipes made for a precarious journey through the bowels of the old house, trudging through mud and mislaid entrails.
“ My Barracuda’s not thirty feet away. When I give you a whistle, you hightail it out of here like in a high – speed chase. Got it?”
“ Don’t you know? That thing’ll catch up to us. It’s too fast.” Emily was full of practical information. “We’ll have to wait out the full moon. The curse ends when the sun comes up.”
“ Look, I already knew that,” I said. “ Everyone knows the curse disappears at
dawn. But we’re not going to make it until sunup, understand? So run that cute
behind of yours as fast as you can.”
“This is serious stuff, honey. My grandma was a Louisiana Voodoo priestess and she— .”
“ Listen here, sweetie, first of all, if you call me ‘honey’ one more time? I’m
gonna— .” “What are you gonna do, tough guy?” She pursed her lips and
stomped her foot into the muck. “ First of all, the name’s Jack. Jack Thompson Dennis. And secondly, I’ve seen enough movies to know exactly what we’re
dealing with. Tom’s a goddamn werewolf from London, on a vacation break
from his job as a hellhound across the ocean. Probably heard there was plenty of good prey in Bowie, Texas and decided to bring the curse over here. The
Devil himself must be in that guy’s veins. He’s even collecting their portraits on the wall—like some messed – up, Satanic art project!” I was worked up. And
damn, that girl had an amazing figure. “Take our chances in this death trap until morning or get the hell out of here? Frankly, I don’t care. I’m voting for getting out.” A woman needs a man who takes charge, you know? Be brave and make a move. I wasn’t some lazy, good – for – nothing redneck. I had
courage.
Emily tied her hair back with a pink scrunchie. “Alright, fair enough.”
“ Damn right. Now, if you have any bright ideas, feel free to share.” We quieted down. In times of crisis, you need time to let things sink in. Don’t rush or you’ll mess it up. I always think back to a guy I knew, Jimmy O’Connor, a Boston boy in Vietnam; he did three tours. Something like eight godforsaken years in that
hellhole. Jimmy said the killing didn’t bother him. He went home and spent
two years working at a dock in New York. Well, one day he flipped out while
pulling in a lobster trap, and I mean completely lost it. Screaming in broken
Vietnamese, smashing crustaceans with his fists like jackhammers. It took six
guys to calm him down and after that he spent the rest of his days in a state
mental hospital, just… well, you know. He bottled things up, didn’t take time to deal with his issues. Sometimes you’ve got to let things out. Let go. That’s just life.
Emily wept into the crook of her inner elbow. I put my arm around her. “ It’s
okay, darling,” I said. “We’re gonna be fine. We’ll hide under the living room
floor and keep real quiet until morning.” Emily reminded me of my ex – wife. A lot of times I wasn’t there for her. You know how it is. Jack was never an angel, that’s for sure.
My ex – wife cheated on me twice, but I let it go. I mean, I had my flings with some girls in Seoul, what with the war and all. Really, it was the kids that kept us from falling apart, until that new guy came along with his fancy Italian car.
Lily and Lucy. My girls. My precious gems. I wanted to see them grow up, go to college, have a better life than I did. It shouldn’t be hard. But I had too many
restraining orders against me. Too many missed birthdays, too many wild
nights at the quarry with Pete and some of the others. Drinking and partying, cruising and having a good time. It wasn’t a life for two little girls.
“Jack?” Emily questioned, her pouty lips puckered. “Are you okay?”
I puckered up too, ready to give my sweet Emily a kiss.
“You look really familiar. Have we met?” She squinted.
Damn it, I thought. “You don’t remember?” How could a woman forget
something like that? I was all over her. Charming, like a movie star. Smooth as Sinatra himself. Who could forget a mustache like mine?
“ Do you work at that burger joint off of Main and Elm?”
“Good grief, lady.”
“You know, that place, near the old post office, right next to the antique store?”
“ Hell no!” I barked. “ I’m the guy from last night. Jack! Your muscle – bound jerk of a date beat me up after I asked you to dance. You don’t remember that?”
“Oh,” she muttered. “That was you?”
Yeah. Women, I thought.
“ Muscle – bound? I didn’t even know the guy. Gee, are you okay?”
I pointed to my black – and – blue eye and said, “ I just want to tell you, he got some lucky punches in. And I’d had a few too many. Okay? You know how it is. ”
“ Huh, it didn’t look that way.” She shrugged and sat down, pulling her knees up to her chest. We sat in the dark for a long while, half – cuddling, half –
listening for the terrifying movements of the prowling beast. Quiet. Exciting. A pretty girl in the mud. Werewolf on the loose. Life throws you curveballs, you know? Sometimes you strike out, sometimes… well, you know: home run.
“ I wanted to dance with you,” she said, almost in a whisper.
“What was that?” I’d heard her perfectly well.
“ I wanted to dance. You seemed like a nice guy, a bit of a chauvinist, but nice.”
A little smile curled her lips, her white teeth contrasting against her dark skin.
Her short hair, dyed auburn, looked beautiful in the faint glow of the
fluorescent light seeping through the cracks in the floor. It all felt a bit like a crazy adventure.
“ Maybe when the sun comes up, we could get some breakfast or something?” I asked her out, my stomach in knots.
“You think it’s gone?” she asked, looking up through the floorboards.
“Yeah, probably ran off into the woods. Or maybe it’s eating one of the
neighbors. You can never tell what they’ll do once the beast takes over. No sir, not at all—,” I was rambling when suddenly, in the near distance, the creaking of old nails shattered the moment. Before I could say: “ Damn it all!” light from the living room flooded the crawlspace. The werewolf slunk over the opening, fistfuls of spittle and chunky red stuff splashing me like a bucket of bait. I rolled left, Emily right.
“ Move, stay under the floorboards.” One of the contractors must have had the same idea. Thought he’d be safe. But there I was, elbow to elbow with a bunch of chewed – up workers, sinking in the muck. I wish I had my shotgun, I
thought.
Like hairy manacles, the wolf’s fingers latched onto my ankles and pulled me with superhuman strength.
“Jesus Christ!” I screamed. He yanked me out like a worm in a rotten log, holding me upside – down, breathing his fetid breath into my face.
Emily turned around and grabbed my arm. Good girl. She pulled. But damn, Tom was incredibly strong.
Emily tossed over the contractor’s hardhat. I caught it and went wild, pounding the wolf’s head: kicking, whooping, hollering like a madman. I noticed
glistening, green wood sealant matting up its coarse, black whiskers. Saliva
dripped from its mouth like a leaky faucet. I reached for my lighter and struck that little metal wheel.
“ ROAR!” Tom howled as the sparks caught, spreading over his face, singeing
and smoking his unholy beard. The werewolf’s hand gripped me by the belt
buckle, hurling me into the kitchen like I was a chew toy. I even let out a squeal when I landed.
I tasted more hot, wet blood streaming down my mustache. My life’s essence was draining away. I was in big trouble and fast. Tom pummeled me again, his claws slicing through me, spinning me like a top into the refrigerator. Life as I knew it slowed down to a crawl. And I peered at the approaching shadow
through blurry eyes. The great beast scowled, teeth gnashing, gnawing.
Crooked fangs chattered as that black tongue writhed like a snake. Hisses, snarls: but above all —a low and mournful voice called to me. I knew it well.
Elvis Presley. “ Love Me Tender,” he seemed to sing.
It seemed to me we’re put on this earth for a reason. Usually it’s a pretty good
one. Sure, we make our own fate. Lord knows I have. But who’s to say that all paths don’t lead to the same end? Hell, we all end up food for worms
eventually, one way or another.
So, I stood up.
The monster’s eyelids narrowed.
I adjusted my clothes, spat, and clenched my fist. “ Hey, Tom? Let’s go, pal.”
The wolf’s shaggy neck bristled like a spiked trap. It barked ferociously,
snapping and clawing. Tom’s bestial, unkempt wolfish member swung like a hairy pendulum between its powerful haunches.
“ Bring it, you ugly, European – trash, French freak!” I stood my ground, curled
my fist and swung right for its groin. I grabbed it, twisted, and brought down a storm of blows.
Tom bellowed, eyes rolling back and white as snow. Its tongue slithered like a fish out of water.
But I held on, pinching its hairy testicles like a vice. I squeezed them hard, really worked them over like a couple of oranges. The werewolf roared, shuddering, and lashing out with every demonic limb. It tore up the place, smashing the
sink and raking its claws over the dirty wallpaper. Tom tore a swinging light
fixture from the ceiling, swinging it like a club, until I finally let go and the wolf collapsed into a pile of rubble, panting and yelping.
Smoke rose, swirling like a thick cloud, curling along the ceiling. The wolf’s
balls were on fire, man. Tom whimpered. My hand was hot and sweaty. “ Bowie
High Football 1965.” Solid silver with my mother’s birthstone. I kissed the ring and swear it sparkled like Texas sunshine.
Unholy fury shook chips of paint and sawdust off the walls of the remodel.
Tom wasn’t out, just angry and pissed. Nauseous too, apparently, as it took
two steps and vomited a stream of foul – smelling bile onto the floor. The rush
of hot, chunky vomit flooded over my ankles. It splashed towards me on all fours.
“Toro!” I shouted with a bloody grin.
Tom charged, dishes flew off the walls and all those painted faces shattered.
The windows cracked, pipes twisted, spraying water from beneath the floor.
And that putrid meat smell bubbled up from the ground like a blocked sewer from Hell. We’re talking really bad.
We collided like gladiators, each yelling our war cries, wild and violent. My fist connected with a sizzling sound, scorching a patch of fur over the wolf’s kidney.
Three more blows to its ribs and gut, and a smoking punch to its jaw.
Wading through the disgusting liquid, we slipped and slid like slippery
characters in a cheap movie. Tom gripped me tight and rammed me into the granite countertop, my head breaking through a stack of soggy cereal boxes
and tins of tuna.
I wobbled to my feet, peeking through swollen eyes.
The wolf raised its broad shoulders, baring tooth and claw, heaving and steaming.
“Alright,” I said, raising my fists and swaying like a champion boxer. “ Last round, Tom. Come on, take a shot.”
With demonic savagery, Tom attacked with a mouthful of fangs. My head burst through the cabinets and a shower of cereal flakes lodged in my sideburns.
Reaching for a butcher knife, I fumbled desperately, stretching until I loosely grasped something in my ring hand.
“ Fort Worth Canned Chili,” I read aloud.
A low, hollow laugh betrayed the presence of a man behind the beast’s terrifying visage.
“Think that’s funny?” I shouted, smashing the can over its head. And I didn’t
stop. I smashed and smashed its face until it spat out broken teeth. “ Fuck you!”
Bashing, punching, crushing, cracking, the demon’s blood spilled from a battered skull, splashing up my nose, into my mustache, over my chest.
Splinters of bone and brain mixed together with chunks of chili and thick sauce
until nothing but a red – soaked spandex suit and a furry, matted stain remained.
Tom’s legs twitched in the aftermath of the brutal attack.
My ring glowed red – hot, but didn’t burn me.
Emily peeked out from the crawlspace, hair messy, makeup smeared—a true Southern mess.
Tom’s head and throat gurgled up a mass of bloody pulp, oozing like a broken water pipe.
“ Is it…?” Emily choked.
“Yeah, honey. He’s done for.” I knelt forward, picking chips of skull from my mustache.
Emily stepped over the gory remains, leaned over and helped me to my feet. I tried to act tough, but groaned. She held me close, holding my hand. The birds chirped a sweet summer tune outside as the sun came up over the oak trees.
And she laid me near the Barracuda.
Emily’s tears fell on my chest as gently as the morning light. Each tear washing away the bloodstain. I spat out pink – tinged fluid—blood in my lungs. You
can’t take hits like that without hurting something important.
“ I don’t mean to be a perv—but you look really good with that red dress clinging to your figure.”
She laughed, but I could tell she was still shaken.
“ I have a mind to ask you to dance,” I coughed.
“ I’d love to,” she replied.
We curled up together on the hood of my Barracuda, watching the sun peek
out over the oak trees. Tiny sparkles of light glittered through the lush green of the swaying leaves as they were tossed by the wind. From afar we heard the
songs of sparrows.
“Jack?”
I brushed a silky strand of hair behind her ear, a cute ear too. “Yeah, I’m here,” I said, softly. My heart was pounding. We moved closer and my heart raced as
our lips met tenderly. My whole world felt new. Bam, just like that. That
moment of clarity, that swift kick in the pants, that heart – pounding reminder of why we try to turn our lives around—it all hit me like a wave. Sure, you get knocked down sometimes. But those setbacks can lead to something great. So, I kissed Emily passionately and she kissed me back. Our bodies pressed
together, our heartbeats in sync. And with a gentle tug, I started to remove her top.