Fear, page 16
The bully’s words matched Jeb’s thoughts down to the letter. He didn’t want to spend any more time in the cliffside cave than was necessary. Jeb unfolded the pocketknife’s longest blade and began to tackle the strands of thick snakeskin.
After a minute of slashing and sawing, Jeb shook his head. “I’m sorry, Jenkins, but it’s just too tough to cut. The blade just slides right off it.”
Hysteria bloomed in Troy’s eyes. “What do you mean you can’t cut it! You’ve gotta cut it! You’ve gotta get me outta here!”
“Lower your voice,” Jeb hissed in irritation.
“The hell I will!” raved the bully, his face livid. “Now you cut me outta this damned stuff, or I’ll give you an ass-kicking you ain’t never gonna forget!”
Jeb was about to try again, when he looked up at Troy’s face. In the glow of the flashlight, he watched as Jenkins’s expression changed from anger to complete terror. Jeb didn’t know exactly why … until he noticed that Troy wasn’t looking directly at him, but past him, over his left shoulder.
That was when Jeb heard something in the darkness behind him. It was a low, hissing sigh. That and the dry rasp of scales rubbing against coarse stone.
Jeb forgot all about trying to release the imprisoned bully.
Instead, he stuck the knife back into the side pocket of his overalls and grabbed for the slingshot. He whirled and the flashlight stuck in his armpit shifted its beam to the far side of the cave.
In the circular light, stood the snake-critter, rising from where it had been napping next to the opposite wall. The creature yawned, displaying a wicked collection of jagged teeth jutting from milky black gums. Jeb watched as the thing stretched, shrugging the lingering stiffness of slumber from its muscles and bones. Looking at it from where he stood, Jeb was certain that the creature was larger than when he had encountered it in the hollow near the woods. Perhaps only a few inches taller and a foot longer, but larger, nonetheless.
Jeb fumbled in his pocket for the tractor bolt, found it, and placed it in the cradle of the sling. He felt the flashlight begin to slip as the sweat of panic slickened his armpit. Jeb knew he would drop the light if he didn’t do something, so he released it from beneath his arm and stuck it, head up, in the side pocket of his overalls. The beam was now aimed directly at the craggy ceiling of the cave, casting an eerie gloom throughout the chamber. He had a hard time seeing the creature now. It was only a dark shape against an even darker background, but its eyes stood out in the sparse light. They sparkled greenish-yellow, narrowing to thin slits as they caught a glimpse of Jeb at the far side of the cave.
The farmboy hated to leave Troy where he was, but he knew he had to get out of there before he suffered the same fate. Jeb began to back away, again gripping the slingshot in both hands, ready to put it to use if necessary.
“Jeb!” screamed Troy as the light followed the farmboy and left him in darkness. “For God’s sake, don’t leave me here, Jeb! Come back! Please, come back!”
Jeb said nothing. He backed a few steps more, and then felt the coolness of one of the boulders against his shoulder blade. He stepped to the side and sensed that the opening between the stones was directly behind him. He also sensed that the snake-critter was coming for him. He could see its long, dark form moving through the gloom and hear the sharp claws of its reptilian feet clicking upon the stone floor. Soon, its muscles had warmed up from its nap and it was across the rear chamber in a flash.
Jeb wasted no time. He squeezed between the two boulders and found himself in the outer tunnel. As he made his way back through the passageway, Jeb heard a loud growl behind him. He turned and was stunned to see the critter straining to squeeze through the space between the boulders. It was working its way, slowly but surely, through the opening. Its scaly muscles rubbed against the flats of the stones, emitting an ear-piercing noise not unlike the sound of untrimmed fingernails on a school blackboard.
In horror, Jeb watched as the snake-critter squeezed through the opening, inch by inch. He knew that it would be past the barrier in a matter of seconds and then he would be in a mess of trouble. Jeb glanced back down the tunnel. The entrance to the cave was a good twenty feet away. There was no way Jeb could possibly make it out of the cave and back to the top of the riverbank before the thing caught up with him. He would scarcely have his hands on the roots of the sycamore, ready to pull himself up, when the monster grabbed hold of him and dragged him back into the cave.
He knew then that he would have to stand his ground. His hands shaking, Jeb lifted the slingshot at arms length and pulled back on the sling. The bowed length of the inner tube thrummed with tension as he drew it back nearly to his opposite shoulder. Jeb gripped the cradle and its projectile tightly, waiting for just the right moment. It came an instant later. He saw the long black fingers of the creature’s right front paw snake through the opening and knew that the rest of it wasn’t far behind.
Jeb closed his eyes and, loosening his grip, let the missile fly.
The boy’s aim proved to be true. The tractor bolt spun through the widening tunnel and slammed into the end of the creature’s snout. With a yelp of surprise and pain, the thing jerked back, retreating through the opening. A moment later, it was back inside the rear chamber, dazed by the three ounce projectile that had bloodied its nose.
Jeb didn’t wait to see if it would show itself again. He turned and ran for the entrance of the cave. When he burst into the sunlight, Jeb stuck the slingshot in his back pocket, and then leapt for the tangle of roots that jutted from the upper edge of the cliff. He missed the first try, but succeeded at the second. Soon, he had hauled himself back up to the top of the riverbank.
“Jeb!” Troy Jenkins’s frantic voice echoed faintly from the cave beneath his feet. “Oh, please, Jeb…don’t leave me here!”
The farmboy cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled as loudly as he could. “I’ll go fetch somebody, Troy. We’ll get you out! Don’t worry!”
With that said, Jeb knew he had to put some distance between himself and the cave, in case the snake-critter decided to venture out of its lair. “Come on, Buckshot!” he called. “We gotta get away from here, boy!”
The bluetick’s ears perked up and he seemed to sense the urgency in his master’s voice. Soon, he was on Jeb’s heels as the boy ran eastward along the riverbank, heading for the Cumberland River bridge and the road leading toward town.
Chapter Fifteen
Deaf Ears
Forty-five minutes after Jeb Sweeny had left the cave in the limestone cliff, he arrived at the outskirts of Pikesville. Both he and Buckshot were tuckered out by the time they reached the Baptist church, but, fortunately, they didn’t have to travel all the way to the courthouse to find the person they were looking for. Ed North’s navy blue patrol car was parked out front of the steepled structure, where Alfred Harris was on a fifteen-foot ladder, giving the slats of the building a good coat of snow white paint.
“Sheriff!” called Jeb as he stumbled across the gravel parking lot. “You gotta come quick!”
North was sitting on the front bumper of his car, watching Alfred work and drinking a 7-Up. When he heard the commotion behind him, he turned and regarded Jeb with surprise. “Whatever is the matter, Jeb Sweeny? Boy, you look like you’ve done seen a ghost.”
“A lot worse than that,” said Jeb, catching his breath. “It was that snake-critter, Sheriff. I saw it again!”
Annoyance flared in the constable’s eyes and he glanced up at the painter. Alfred Harris was only fifty, but had spent nearly thirty years working in a tool and die shop in Nashville. The stamping presses he had operated had pretty much shot his hearing to hell, so there was no danger of him overhearing the boy’s statement. He knew Alfred had picked up a little lip-reading, though, and if he turned around on his ladder, he would find out right quick what Jeb was so excited about.
North hopped off the chrome bumper and grabbed Jeb by the arm. “Come on, boy. Let’s go for a drive and you can tell me your story.”
Jeb rarely got the chance to ride in an automobile, so he didn’t mind the sheriff’s suggestion at all. After North had opened the driver’s door and Jeb had scooted across the bench seat, he glanced out the door at Buckshot, who sat next to the car, looking a little perplexed. “What about my dog?” he asked. “You can’t just leave him here.”
The sheriff frowned distastefully. “Well, hell, where am I gonna put him?”
“The backseat, I reckon.”
North looked uncertain. “He ain’t gonna piss all over the place, is he?”
“Shoot no, Sheriff!” assured Jeb, rolling his eyes. “Ol’ Buckshot is a good dog. He wouldn’t do such a thing.”
North opened the back door of the sedan. “Oh, all right. I reckon it can’t hurt.” A moment later, the dog was jumping onto the backseat and making himself comfortable.
The slamming of the rear door, alerted Alfred Harris on the ladder. He turned and stared down at the sheriff. “Where’re you going, Ed?”
“Got some law business to attend to,” said North.
Alfred cupped a hand to his left ear. “Say again?”
“I said I gotta attend to something,” he yelled louder.
The painter simply nodded and turned back to his painting, totally unaware of what had gone on behind his back a moment before.
Soon, the patrol car had made a U-turn in the church parking lot and was pulling out onto the main road. Jeb pointed south, so North turned in that direction. “So, what’s this all about?” asked the sheriff.
“Like I said before, I came across the snake-critter again!” said the boy. “The one that killed Old Jack.”
That familiar shadow of disbelief settled in North’s droopy eyes. “Oh, yeah? And where did you see it this time?”
“You know that cave in the south bank of the Cumberland?”
North thought for a moment. “The one that’s a stone’s throw from the bridge?”
“Yes, sir,” replied Jeb. “Well, it’s been hiding out in there. And that ain’t all.”
The sheriff sensed that the farmboy was about to tell him something he really didn’t want to hear. “What do you mean?”
“It’s got Troy Jenkins in there, trussed up in a cocoon of snake hide,” Jeb said frantically. “And its feeding off him! Drinking his blood like a tick!”
Sheriff North’s reaction to the news was the complete opposite of what Jeb expected it to be. The lawman slammed on his brakes, squealing the tires against the pavement of the highway and steering the sedan toward the shoulder. The patrol car stopped with a jerk so abrupt that Jeb nearly butted his head against the dashboard.
Startled, the boy looked over at the man in the driver’s seat. North simply sat there, staring out the bug-speckled windshield. His face was fire engine red and his hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles were white with strain.
“Stop it,” the lawman said between clenched teeth. “You stop this nonsense right here and now!”
“But it ain’t—” stammered the boy.
“Just sit there and listen to me,” said North. He turned toward Jeb so suddenly that, at first, the farmboy was sure he was about to be struck. “I want you to stop all this damned-fool talk about snake-dogs and such! All it does is make my job a helluva lot harder than it oughta be.”
“But it’s true!” protested Jeb. “I swear it is!”
North’s temper flared. “You just shut your yap, boy, and keep it shut! All this talk about a damned monster has made me the laughingstock of the county! Half of Pikesville believes in this critter, while the other thinks it’s a dadblamed joke. I’ve got folks tugging at me from both sides, expecting me to do something. But I can’t until I find out exactly what it is, and you sure as hell ain’t helping any.”
Jeb knew he should have expected such a reaction, given the way North had acted toward him the morning after the hog killing. “So you don’t believe me at all?”
“No, boy, I don’t!” declared the sheriff. “And I’m sick and tired of hearing your tall-tales. If your grandma was raising you right, she’d lay a switch to your butt and put a stop to all this lying and storytelling!”
Jeb’s heart sank. “But ain’t we gonna get Troy out of that cave?”
“I thought I told you to stop it!” said North, leveling a pudgy finger at the boy. Jeb couldn’t remember seeing the man quite so angry before. “Let me tell you something about Troy Jenkins. The kid’s got a record of making trouble as long as the flagpole out front of the courthouse. And, as for running away, he’s done it a dozen times in the past couple years. Last time he was gone for ten days. Hopped a freight train and ended up clear down in Memphis. Well, he’s been gone for little over four days this time, and I ain’t wasting my time looking for the little turd. I’d just soon he stay gone and save the town the bother of having to put up with him.”
Although Jeb had no great love for the twelve-year-old bully, he simply couldn’t allow him to remain in the cave, at the mercy of the snake-critter. “But if we leave him there, that thing’ll kill him for sure! It’ll bleed him dry as a bone!”
Ed North’s anger exploded into full-fledged rage. Before Jeb knew what was happening, the sheriff reached over and, grabbing one of the straps of Jeb’s overalls, hauled the boy across the seat. “Now you listen to me, Jeb Sweeny!” he growled. “I don’t wanna hear another word from you concerning this critter. I don’t wanna hear you mentioning it to anyone else, either. If I do learn that you’ve been running your mouth, I’m gonna stripe your ass with the buckle-end of my gunbelt, then drive you straight to the state reformatory. And you know what those white trash boys’ll do to you up there? They’ll eat you for breakfast with a side order of grits, that’s what!”
The sheriff’s threat of sending him to the reform school made Jeb clam up. He still feared for Troy Jenkins, but he also was concerned for his own hide. The orphanage was bad, but the state reformatory was ten times worse, and Jeb intended to stay as far away from it as possible.
“Do you understand me now, boy?” asked North gruffly. “Are you gonna keep on being a troublemaker and make me pack you off to that school? Or are you gonna be good and keep your damned mouth shut?”
Jeb was quiet for a moment, and then he sighed. “I ain’t gonna say nothing else,” he replied.
“Well, that’s good to hear,” said the lawman, grinning cruelly. “‘Cause if I did have to send you away, the state wouldn’t have no choice but to put your brain-dead daddy in the asylum. There wouldn’t be nothing else to do, what with your grandma nearly in her grave.”
Jeb suddenly realized that underneath Ed North’s lazy demeanor, there was a hidden streak of downright meanness. His general dislike for the man suddenly increased threefold. The sheriff pointed to the handle on the inside of the passenger door. “I’m through talking to you, boy. You go on and git now. Go home and keep your trap shut, or I’ll be picking you up for that ride to the reform school. Understand?”
Jeb nodded solemnly. “Yes, sit I understand.” Then he climbed out of the car and, opening the rear door, let Buckshot out, too.
When the boy had closed the door, Sheriff North gave him one last, warning look. Then the lawman made a U-turn in the road and headed back for town.
Angrily, Jeb kicked at the dirt at the side of the road. He thought about telling Sam and Grandma about Troy and the critter in the cave, but knew if word got back to the sheriff, North would keep his promise and send him off to the reformatory for two or three months. By the time he got out, Grandma would already be dead and Sam would be locked up in the state asylum indefinitely. So he had no other choice but to keep his mouth shut, whether he liked it or not.
Jeb glanced over at his dog. Buckshot was sitting in the crabgrass at the side of the road, rubbing his haunches back and forth. Jeb recognized the hound’s motion for what it truly was and a grin began to form on his lips. “Buckshot .. . did you take a dump in the sheriff’s car?”
The dog simply grunted and, finishing, stood up. Jeb noticed that the blades of grass the bluetick had sat upon were a little less green than they had been a moment before.
Jeb wanted to laugh at the present Ed North would find on his backseat when he reached town, but he simply couldn’t. He walked for a while and, when he crossed the Cumberland River bridge, he looked over the side and saw the opening in the limestone bank several hundred yards away. He had the urge to go down there and try to release Troy on his own, but knew it would be stupid to try such a thing. If he did, the snake-critter would catch him this time and subject him to the same horrors that Jenkins had suffered for the past four days.
Feeling worse than he had that morning, Jeb left the bridge and started home.
Sixteen
Fourth of July
Jeb, Grandma Sweeny, Sam, and Buckshot climbed into the one-mule wagon that Saturday and headed down the dusty stretch of Mossy Creek Road for the main highway. Once upon the rural stretch of two-laned pavement, they crossed the Cumberland River bridge and drove straight into town. Jeb and Sam were smiling from ear to ear in anticipation of the festivities to come, while Grandma and Buckshot were slightly calmer, the latter sleeping on the tailgate of the buckboard most of the way.
Once they reached the outskirts of Pikesville, the serenity of the country gave way to hectic excitement. Cars and trucks were parked, bumper to bumper, on both sides of Main Street and folks crowded the sidewalks, standing three deep in spots. The canvas banner that stretched above the avenue, from Sherman’s Grocery across to Drewer’s Barber Shop, told it all. “PIKESVILLE 4TH OF JULY CELEBRATION,” it read.”PARADE, FOOD, SPORTS, MUSIC, & FIREWORKS!”
“Look, ya’ll!” pointed Sam as they passed the fire station next to the grocery store. It was a little past eleven-thirty and the participants for the noon parade were already assembled in front of the red-brick building. “This is gonna be swell!”
