Fear, page 20
Identical, that was, except for one important factor. These were much larger. On the previous tracks, the length of each toe had been four inches. These were clearly six inches long, maybe more.
It’s growing! thought Jeb in horror. It’s getting bigger!
Although his heart pounded and he felt as if he were about to pee in his britches, Jeb knew that he had a job to do. No matter how scared he was, he had to climb down to that ledge and find out whether or not Mandy was in the cave.
He picked up the twenty-gauge and cracked open the breech. A single load of duck and goose shot was in the portal, and there were six more shells in the pocket of his overalls. He closed the breech with a snap and hefted its weight in his hands. The birdshot wouldn’t kill the critter, but it might scare it away if it took a lunge at him.
Jeb made his way to the edge of the bluff and, carefully, lowered himself down to the ledge below, which was a tricky feat considering that he was toting a nine pound shotgun. When his feet touched rock, he steadied himself and let go of the sycamore roots. The dark doorway of the cave yawned before him, looking much more foreboding than it ever had before.
He knew if he yelled out loud, he would probably alert the beast of his presence, but he knew he had no choice. He cupped his hands around his mouth and called out. “Mandy? Are you in there?”
At first there was only the hollow ring of his own voice echoing through the inner cavern, followed by a stretch of silence. Then he heard it. The voice of a girl coming faintly from the far reaches of the cave.
“Jeb?” asked Mandy, her voice disoriented. “Jeb, is that you?”
“It’s me,” he replied, relieved to hear her voice. “Are you hurt?”
“I don’t know,” she said dully. “My neck kind of hurts, but the rest of me is numb. And I’m tied up in something or other.”
Jeb recalled the cocoon of tough snakehide that had encased Troy and he shuddered. “Mandy … is Troy Jenkins still in there, too?”
“Yes, he’s here,” confirmed the girl. “But he isn’t saying much. He sounds so weak, Jeb. I think he might be dying.”
Once again, that familiar pang of guilt nagged at Jeb. He knew that it wasn’t his fault, that it was Sheriff North’s fault that Troy was wasting away more than anyone else’s. He had tried to fetch help, but the constable had put a stop to it with the threat of the state reform school.
Jeb thought of the talk that had circulated among the Fourth of July crowd. “Mandy … is the Huff baby in there with you?”
There was silence for a moment, and then the girl replied. “No, not that I know of. If it was, I think I would’ve heard it by now. It’s so dark in here, Jeb. So very dark.”
The boy’s heart ached at the terror in his girlfriend’s voice. “I know, Mandy.”
Then, abruptly, a low growl echoed from deep within the cave, followed by Mandy’s shrill screaming. “Jeb! Get away, quick! It woke up … and it’s coming for you!”
Jeb felt his legs shake, as if they wanted to take off running under their own power. But he wouldn’t allow it. Jeb stood his ground firmly and raised the butt of the shotgun to his shoulder. The long, blued barrel wavered in his trembling hands, the muzzle moving involuntarily to one side of the cave entrance to another. He breathed deeply and tried to settle his nerves. From the darkness within, he could hear the chalkboard shriek of scales against stone as the thing squeezed between the boulders. Then came the sound of clawed feet scurrying across the rock floor.
The farmboy steadied the scattergun, aiming it directly at the center of the cave’s mouth. He expected it to emerge from the shadows at any moment, snapping and snarling, its toothy jaws yearning to take a big bite out of him.
But that didn’t happen. Instead, the sound of the creature’s approach slowed, and then came to an abrupt halt. It was there, however. Jeb could hear its harsh breathing no more than ten feet from the entrance and he could barely see the twin orbs of its monstrous eyes leering at him from out of the darkness.
“Stay back!” he warned. “Stay back or I swear I’ll shoot you, you dadblamed son-of-a-biscuit-eater!”
Jeb waited for the creature to continue its advance, but it didn’t. It simply stood there, watching him.
At that moment, Jeb felt like a knight facing the lair of a dragon. But it was not a heroic feeling. Rather, he felt like a knight without a sword or a shield. He knew in his heart that the shotgun would do nothing but irritate the beast. If he pulled the trigger, the creature would react and both he and Mandy would likely suffer with their lives.
“Mandy!” he called out, his voice full of regret. “I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to go.”
“No!” shrieked the girl. “Please, Jeb! Don’t leave me here!”
It was at that moment, that Jeb heard a brittle clacking sound from within the cave. It took a few seconds before he realized that it was something hard and hollow rolling across the stone floor of the cavern. Puzzled, he watched as the object left the shadows and rolled across the narrow ledge toward him.
At first, he thought it was a baseball. It was white and about the size of one. Then he saw two small holes in the object, along with a smaller one just beneath them. In shock, he realized exactly what it was that the creature had pitched his way.
It was a skull.
A tiny skull.
The skull of a baby.
With a yelp, Jeb stepped out of the way, almost losing his balance in the process. The skull of the Huff baby rolled past him and careened off the edge of the rock ledge. Jeb looked down in time to see it land, with a splash, in the churning waters of the Cumberland.
Shaken, Jeb turned back toward the cave. Inside, the eyes of the snake-critter narrowed to sinister slits and he heard a strange snuffling sound. It took him a moment before he recognized the noise for what it truly was. The creature was laughing at him.
“I’ll find a way to get you out, Mandy, I swear I will!” he yelled. “And, when I do, I’ll be back!”
The girl didn’t answer. All he heard was the faint sound of her sobbing echoing from the rear of the cave. The sound wrenched at his heart and made him feel more like a coward than he ever had before.
He stared angrily at the pair of glowing eyes. “I’ll be back for you, too,” he said, and then he made his way cautiously toward the wall of the bluff and the exposed roots of the sycamore that dangled overhead.
The monster made no move to apprehend him. It simply sat there in the darkness, laughing its sinister laugh.
A moment later, Jeb was back on top of the bank again. He stood there in indecision for a while, and then it came to him. For the past week, he had turned a single idea over and over in his mind, abandoning it as foolishness every time it popped into his head. But, this time, it didn’t seem quite as foolish as it had before. In fact, the more he considered it, the more it dawned on him that it was his only chance to defeat the snake-critter, and heal his dying family at the same time.
Jeb hid the shotgun amid the clump of sycamores, and then began making his way along the riverbank for the bridge. Like last time, his goal was to make it to Pikesville as fast as he possibly could. But, this time, he would not be going to see Sheriff North.
No, he had someone else in mind. Perhaps the only person in town who could help him with what he had to do.
Chapter Twenty
Reluctant Guide
“You want to what?” asked Roscoe Ledbetter. The black man’s eyes bugged behind the thick lenses of his spectacles. “Are you plumb crazy, boy?”
“No, sir,” said Jeb. “I’m serious, that’s all.”
The bluesman looked up one sidewalk, then down the other. The town of Pikesville was practically deserted at that hour in the afternoon. Folks were still hard at work at their jobs, but it wouldn’t be long before quitting time rolled around and then the walkways would be bustling. The only ones he saw on Main Street at that moment were Tom Nipper washing the windows of the drugstore and Howard Drewer on the far side, sweeping hair trimmings off the curb with a broom.
“This ain’t no fitting place to be talking of such foolishness,” said Roscoe. He retrieved his guitar, hat, and gear, and then grabbed Jeb by the arm. “Come on and we’ll talk about it in the alley out back.”
Soon, the boy and the old Negro were in the narrow alleyway that stretched at the rear of the bank. Roscoe found a couple of packing crates at the back door of the Rexall and they sat down.
Roscoe wiped his dark face with a red bandanna, and then eyed the boy uncomfortably. “Now, let me get this straight. Where do you have a mind to go to?”
Jeb sat up straight on his crate, his expression steady. “I told you before. I aim to go to Fear County.”
The bluesman shook his head vigorously. “No, sir, Jeb Sweeny! You’d best strike that notion plumb outta your mind!”
“I’m a-going and that’s all there is to it,” said Jeb firmly. “And why would you wanna do a damned fool thing like that?” asked the guitar-picker.
“I’m going to see that witch you told me about before,” said Jeb. “That Granny Woman.”
Roscoe laughed, but it was a nervous laugh. “Boy, I don’t even know if there is such a person. I was just telling you that before ’cause you wanted to know about Fear County. I surely didn’t think you’d take it to heart.”
“Well, I did…and I want to go see her.”
“But why?” asked Roscoe.
The determination in Jeb’s eyes faltered a little and misery showed there for a moment. “I’m going to see if she’ll help me out with a few things. Maybe she can do some conjuring or some such magic.”
“For what reason?” the Negro wanted to know.
Jeb grew annoyed by Roscoe’s constant barrage of questions. “My folks for one thing. Maybe she can do something for Sam. Maybe make him right in the head again. And then there’s my Grandma Sweeny.”
Roscoe’s eyes softened a bit. “But I heard tell that she’s dying of a cancer.”
“She is,” said Jeb. “I thought maybe she had a cure for it. Then I could heal Grandma up and things would be back the way they were before.”
The bluesman laid a dark hand on the boy’s shoulder. “I wouldn’t be getting my hopes up like that, Jeb. If there is a Granny Woman and she can work the magic folks claim she can, there’s a good chance that she won’t be able to do nothing a’tall for your grandmother.”
“Then that’s just a chance I’ll have to take,” declared the ten-year-old.
Roscoe scowled. “You just ain’t gonna listen to a word I say, are you, boy?” His eyes suddenly narrowed in suspicion. “Exactly why did you run to town and tell me all this, anyway?”
“Cause I don’t know anything about Fear County,” Jeb told him. “But you do.”
“What do you mean?”
“What I’m saying is that I’d like you to take me there,” said the boy. “Kinda be my guide…you know, like them Indian scouts in the western movies.”
Roscoe Ledbetter sat there with his mouth open clear down to the top button of his shirt. “You gotta be joking?”
“No, sir,” replied Jeb. “I ain’t.”
“Well, you might as well be, ’cause I sure ain’t gonna take you there.” The Negro shook his head and snorted in disbelief. “Of all the damn fool things to ask a man! I told you before, I’ve only walked through Fear County once in my life and I don’t aim to do it again. So you’d best just get that through your head, right here and now”
Jeb frowned. “I thought I could count on you. I thought you were my friend.”
“I am, boy,” said Roscoe. “That’s why I ain’t gonna take you there. Ain’t a fitting place for nobody to set foot in, especially an innocent such as yourself.”
“I ain’t as innocent as you think,” snapped Jeb. “I’ve smoked my share of rabbit tobacco and I kissed a girl smack on the mouth only a couple days ago.”
“Hoo-weee!” exclaimed Roscoe, rolling his eyes. “Then I reckon you’re ready to get yourself a tattoo and join up with the Merchant Marines!”
The boy seemed hurt by the man’s sarcasm. “I don’t care if you do poke fun at me. I’ll go…with or without your help.”
Roscoe reached out and stopped the boy before he could walk away. “Just hold up there, Jeb.” He stared in the ten year old’s eyes and saw the determination there, like something chiseled into stone. “You’re dead set on doing this, ain’t you?”
“Yes, sir, I surely am.”
Roscoe studied the boy for a moment longer. “Does it just have to do with wanting to help your papa and grandma? Or is there something else you want the Granny Woman to do for you?”
Jeb nodded grimly. “You know the Rutherford girl that disappeared late last night? The one they think was kidnapped?”
“Yeah, I heard about it.”
“Well, I know where she is,” Jeb told him. “Along with Troy Jenkins.”
“And where’s that?” Roscoe wanted to know.
“There’s a cave on the south side of the river. They’re being kept there.”
Before the boy could say anything else, the old Negro nodded his head. Behind the thick glasses, understanding suddenly emerged. “It’s that snake-critter, ain’t it?” he asked. “It’s made its home there and it’s got them young’uns in there with it.”
“Right,” replied the farmboy.
“And that baby that was snatched from its cradle? Is it there, too?”
Jeb’s freckled face paled a little. “It’s dead. The critter must’ve eaten it right off.”
A question came to mind, but Roscoe was hesitant about asking it. “Jeb … exactly what is that son-of-a-bitch doing to them kids? Why does it have ’em in that cave?”
“It’s feeding off them, Roscoe,” Jeb told him. “From holes it’s bitten in the sides of their necks.”
Again, the bandanna made its way around the Negro’s sweating face. “Good Lord Almighty! I figured it was gonna get worse … but not this bad.”
“That ain’t all,” said the boy. “It’s growing bigger. The tracks I saw were nearly twice the size of the ones I saw when Old Jack was killed.”
“That ain’t a good sign, is it?” said Roscoe.
“No, it ain’t,” said Jeb. “If we don’t do something to stop it, that critter will just get more and more cocky.”
Roscoe recalled the night when the creature had approached his campsite. If he hadn’t had his guitar and a head full of hymns, he might be trapped in that cave right along Mandy Rutherford and Troy Jenkins. “Have you told the sheriff about this yet?”
“I tried my best to several days ago,” said Jeb. “But he wouldn’t listen to none of it. Threatened to stick me in the state reform school if I breathed a word of it to anyone.”
Roscoe spat on the ground in disgust. “Sounds like Ed North. Just trying to cover his own hide, that’s all he’s doing.”
“Was I wrong to take him at his word and not tell someone else?” the boy wanted to know.
“No, son, you did the right thing,” assured the black man. “North’s shiftless and lazy, but he pretty much sticks to his guns whenever he makes a threat. He warned me to steer clear of Jenkins and his bunch after I scared ’em off a while back. He threatened to kick me clean outta Pikesville and he would’ve done it, too, if I’d given him reason.”
Jeb stared at the bluesman for a moment. “Can’t you see, Roscoe? I don’t wanna go just on account of my family. If we don’t do something to stop this critter, the whole town’ll suffer. It’ll just grow bigger and bigger, till nothing be able to kill it at all. Some folks think it came from Fear County, so I reckon that’s the best place to look for a way to do it in.”
Roscoe knew the boy was right. “I reckon there ain’t nothing else to do then. I’ve gotta be crazy in the head … but I’ll do it. I’ll take you there.”
The ten-year-old breathed a sigh of relief. “Thanks, Roscoe,” he said. “I’m much obliged to you.”
“Well, I’ll tell you one thing,” Roscoe warned him. “If we do go, you’ll do as I tell you and not go gallivanting around by yourself. What about your daddy? Is he going with us?”
“Haven’t given much thought to that,” said Jeb. “I reckon he’ll have to. He sure can’t take care of himself and Miss Claudine’s too busy tending to Grandma.”
“If he does go, the same goes for him, too,” said Roscoe. “If I’m gonna guide you, you’re gonna have to listen to me and take my advice. ’Cause the place we’re going ain’t no Sunday stroll through the park. It ain’t like no place you’ve ever gone before … and, God willing, we’ll make it there and back home again in one piece.”
“It ain’t all that bad, is it?” asked the boy.
“Yes, it is,” said Roscoe. “And even worse.”
“Then you’ll do it for sure? You’ll take me to the Granny Woman?”
The black man extended his hand and the two shook on it. “I’ll take you to her home in Paradise Hollow, but that’s as far as we go. If the Granny Woman ain’t there, we’re gonna hightail it straight back, understand?”
“You’ve got a deal!” agreed Jeb.
As he gathered up his guitar and belongings, and followed the boy from the alleyway, Roscoe wondered exactly what he had gotten himself into. It had been thirty years since he had last stepped foot in the dark land known as Fear County, and, even then, it had presented enough hazards and odd occurrences to last a man an entire lifetime. Now, nearly three decades later, he was going back. And he was certain that, in all that time, nothing had improved within those sinister boundaries. In fact, according to the tales he had heard on street comers and around shared campfires, the region’s degree of darkness and depravity had only grown more potent and poisonous with the passage of time.
Chapter Twenty-One
