From Murky Depths Read online

  I grabbed my bottles of water, my pistol out of the boat. I couldn't help but look off in the direction we'd come. The flooded woods looked so serene in the dying light. Had the attack earlier actually taken place, I wondered. It didn't seem possible. And although I had sustained only minor scratches, those very scratches provided concrete evidence of the skirmish. I'd been in plenty of scrapes over the years, none since I'd married. Not unless you counted marital spats. I didn't.

  So whatever had happened earlier proved nothing.

  Yet once in the boat with my new friends heading out across the flooded landscape with virtually no remaining daylight, I could taste the bitter presence of something being not quite right.

  Wisps of fog started to hover over the water. The lantern Maggie held put off enough light to attract fish. Their hungry mouths broke the surface, as if begging. It struck me odd that there were fish swimming around in the woods, but the flooding would allow any fish to escape nearby ponds. I wondered if they would all find their way home before the water receded. Or, perhaps, find new homes.

  Looking in the water, I dragged my hand. The water, murky dark, concealed its less curious inhabitants. All save those breaking the surface as they swam. What I saw weren't fish at all. More like large tadpoles, an entire school of them, each about twelve inches long.

  “It's them,” Maggie whispered. “The hybrid spawn.”

  “It can't be.” I looked closer.

  “But it is,” Roger agreed.

  Maggie, taking a small net from the bottom of the boat, reached out to scoop up a couple. What she caught indeed resembled large frogs, albeit with tails, each about the size of a newborn baby, only smaller.

  “Hate those fuckers,” Roger said.

  Maggie held out the net to him and he reached in to grab one. It floundered in his hand. A weak croak escaped its maw. Using both hands, he twisted the thing to death as if wringing out a towel. Watching him disturbed me. The thing, on closer inspection, did have human traits. Despite that fact, simply watching him twist a creature – any creature – to death didn't seem right. Yet, it did, considering the implication. The thing's body was tossed out into the water before Roger wrung the other's neck. When Maggie went to scoop more, the rest had mysteriously vanished.

  “Earlier, when you jumped out of the boat,” I whispered to Maggie, “what were you doing with the oar before you were attacked?”

  “Crushing an egg.”

  “That's right, you mentioned that. And these eggs contain one of those things. Hmm... How did you know it was there? You couldn't have seen it in the muddy water.”

  “I couldn't. But one giveaway is other fish. Typically, the eggs are buried in the mud. Sometimes they aren't buried very deep.”

  “Actually,” Roger added, “they are never buried very deep. They have to be able to hatch into the water.”

  “They are buried very shallow. Sometimes the dirt erodes, or they aren't buried deep enough. The eggs attract other fish. These fish nibble on the eggs, but as far as we know never destroy the eggs. The shells are very thick, and the hybrids spawn quickly.”

  “I see.” It all made sense, albeit in an unbelievable way.

  “Wish I'd seen the egg.”

  “You saw the hybrid.”

  “True.” I shrugged. My mind wanted to explain away the thing as a man dressed up, perhaps in a green wetsuit. As crazy as it sounded, with all the flooding, if someone had access to such equipment they might wear it to keep dry. Hell, here we were in hip waders taking a jon boat across a field. Buildings were on stilts. A man could easily put on scuba diving equipment, maybe a little grease paint. It seemed entirely more plausible than the alternative.

  I hoped it hadn't been a man. To think I'd fired my weapon at it...

  My curiosity got to me, I wanted to find out what was going on. Despite my better judgment, I asked, “Are we almost there yet?”

  “Close enough,” Maggie said, switching off the light. “Turn off the motor.”

  Roger took the suggestion. With no light and no loud noise, the great outdoors suddenly closed in. It took a few moments for my eyes to adjust. Roger paddled the remaining short distance to the edge of the woods. Out across what I presumed to be a field a great darkness rippled in the breeze. The heat of the day had yet to relent; however, no longer did the sun pummel with its rays.

  “From here, we walk. Get your gear.”

  My pistol, I tucked down the back of my jeans. After a quick swig of water I left both bottles behind in the boat.

  “There is a dry area where the worshipers will meet,” Roger explained. “That's where we are headed.”

  We trudged off skirting the woods to the left. Although nobody spoke, the noise in my head roared with possibilities, none of which made sense. The soggy, musty fact remained that here I waded across a flooded county unlike that of my own, the buildings, the people, perhaps even their attitudes and beliefs completely foreign, perhaps even sacrilegious – although many would consider the place I called home different. Some people consider us folks from the Bible Belt religious nuts. I knew something wasn't right about Clayton, however. An aura of something off kilter permeated the very air I breathed. I should be at home in bed, Missy and the kids home. Instead I was gallivanting around looking for signs of an non-Christian god.

  At least my god knew how to flood the world.

  We tromped through muddy water. The going, slow, tiring. We didn't seem to make any headway – everything remained dark, wet, wooded to the right, flooded to the left.

  I started to wonder if I were on a snipe hunt. Despite the hospitality of Maggie and Roger, I half-expected them to ditch me at any moment. But they didn't. And after another good ten, fifteen minutes a dancing light flickered high through the trees.

  “Just around this bend,” Roger whispered, “can you see it? The bonfire?”

  “Yeah, I can see it,” I said.

  “That hill, it's the highest point in the county. Man-made, the stories go.”

  “No way.”

  “Yes,” Maggie said. “There is a temple there. That's where most ceremonies take place.”

  “The ceremonies we know about, that is.”

  Ceremonies we know about? It sounded so clandestine, yet whatever was going on was taking place right out in the open, perched on a hill where anyone could see... In the middle of Nowhere, Missouri, after dark. Hidden enough, I supposed. Yeah, anything could be taking place there. Child sacrifices, blood orgies, televangelist begging for money... This I needed to see for myself.

  In the distance a deep croak sounded. Off to the left another answered. A chorus of croaks echoed.

  “It's them,” Maggie said. “Hybrids. Not so much mating calls as a breeding summons.”

  “The hybrids breed?”

  “Not that we know of. Mauz-Gurloth fertilizes women's eggs.”

  “Shh... Careful of your volume. In fact, we should minimize conversation,” Roger suggested.

  We complied.

  Our sloshing sounded loud amid the croaking, until chanting began. The chant, obviously of another language, carried an undertone of humming. I couldn't resist whispering, “Can either of you understand what they are saying?”

  “No. Shh – think I see something up ahead.”

  His words stopped me in my tracks. My breath held. I could near blood pumping in my head. I bit back the words on the tip of my tongue: What do you see?

  I knew the answer. A hybrid. What appeared to be the shadow of a small bush revealed itself as one of them.

  In my peripheral vision I saw Roger unsling his crossbow. He loaded a bolt. Raised it, he took aim... A quiet snap sounded, followed by a meaty thunk. A weak croak escaped the thing before it hit water. Roger and Maggie instantly rushed off toward it. I trailed behind.

  Frighteningly efficiently, the pair dispatched the thing before it could react. They left its body lying in the water. An urge to switch on my flashlight, get a better look, overcame me. But I resisted t
he temptation. In the moonlight I could tell its body barely broke the surface of the water. We were traveling on a slight incline; the water had grown shallow near the trees. Soon we would escape its blanket of the land. However, if what I'd been told was true – and I had nothing to refute it thus far – that escape would land me smack-dab in the middle of something with much more ominous implications.

  We continued on, skirting trees, the hill growing larger the closer we got. Light from the bonfire slowly brought things into view. A pier protruded out from the hill, into the field. Standing torches lighted a stairway up the hill. Many small boats were docked. Others, dragged ashore, lay like creatures rising up out of the sea. Around the bonfire people stood swaying, vocalizing praise, I assumed, for their god. I uttered a silent prayer to mine. Lord, give me direction, a sign, tell me what I should do.

  Not that I bought into it, but I wondered if He had steered me to Clayton today. Perhaps even allowed me to lose touch with my wife. Now my resolve strengthened. Our minor problems seemed so trivial, so petty. I knew I could do my part to work through them. I could be a better husband.

  After a brief mental Keep me safe, Lord I fell in line behind my friends. Trees, though thinning in numbers, led out to the hill. Motioning when to stop, when safe to proceed, Roger picked our way out to the hill. Up close it looked intimidating. At fifteen, twenty feet in height and perfectly uniform in size and shape, I did not doubt its man-made origin.

  “This way,” Roger whispered. “We climb the back side, in the shadow of the temple.”

  Rising above the chants and croaking came the hoot of an owl behind me, loud.

  “Hold up,” Maggie said. “Reinforcements.”

  Reinforcements?

  We turned. Roger hooted back. A moment later four shadows emerged from the trees. For a split second my hand twitched toward my .45 expecting hybrids.

  “Mags, Rog, is that you?”

  Don’t shoot.” Roger lifted his head gear.

  “Who's that with you?”

  “A friend. Dave. He’s a good ol’ boy from outside Clayton, made the mistake of trolling over to help out with the flood efforts.”

  “Hell of a mistake there, buddy.”

  Maggie and I displayed our faces long enough to complete introductions. The others opted to keep their identities hidden, but each had a distinct build which made them easy to tell apart.

  “Dave, this is Luke, Seth, and Leigh Ann. Sorry, let's cut this short. There are hybrids in the area.”

  “No shit,” Luke said. “We done killed two.”

  “We got one,” Maggie said.

  “We were about to head up to the temple,” Roger explained, keeping his voice low, barely audible over the chanting.

  “Hold your horses,” said Seth. “I have an idea. Let's cut their boats loose, give 'em a good shove.”

  “Not a bad idea, but watch out,” Maggie said. “I'm sure there are more hybrids.”

  “No shit. Sumbitches are like sentries.”

  “Go on,” Leigh Ann said. “We'll catch up in a minute.”

  “Nah, we better stick together.”

  “Negatory,” Luke said. “This is too important to keep all of us together. You guys take the far side of the temple, we'll flank on the right.”

  “Boats first,” Roger said, his voice commanding, “then we flank the temple.”

  “Let's stop jabbin' and do it.”

  Roger turned to the boats, everyone fell in line. We headed, crouched low, toward the dock. As we did, the chanting grew louder, more intense. Seemingly in response the ground rumbled, turning my legs to rubber, sending my stomach soaring up into my throat. Although the New Madrid fault line lay beneath us I'd never felt such a rumble in my lifetime of living in the area. Just as quickly as it started it finished. As if I needed this, my nerves were already jangled. Wiping sweat from my brow I started forward; sensing movement, I stopped cold in my tracks. The water before us churned. A muddy arm shot out of the foot-deep water. Then another. Several more popped up in the distance between docked boats.

  “Shit.”

  My bowels threatened to rebel.

  A head raised up out of the water. Its eyes reflected firelight. No soldier, no country bumpkin. Before me, lying in wait, appeared a hybrid humanoid. Like a gunfighter I drew my pistol. Before I could use it Maggie darted ahead of me, gig poised for attack. The hybrid, nearly free of the muck, stood anchored in mud. Its powerful legs shoved up, presumably to leap away, but Maggie jabbed with the gig, plunging its fork end dead into the thing's barrel chest, driving it back into the water. Powerful arms clawed at her, unable to reach. She jabbed again and again, giving the illusion of churning butter. Luke, Seth, and Leigh Ann dashed out to deal with the other unexpected guests. Roger raced to assist Maggie by skewering the hybrid's skull through its wide mouth. When the thing finally stopped moving, the couple scanned the water.

  Four more – that I could see – had emerged. Seth jabbed one in the chest with his gig. The other three, moving fast, attacked without hesitation. Boats rode the waves, the water deeper near the dock. My .45 swung around. I hoped to draw a bead on the closest hybrid, but its slashing grasps and parries made it a hard target. Bloody furrows cut across Seth's arm as I stood dumbstruck. My finger itched to squeeze the trigger, yet I feared hitting the man. Dare I draw attention to us with gunfire? Chanting thundered in my ears, drowning out the flurry of splashing water from the combatants.

  Then I realized, with all the commotion one of those things could be rising up behind me. I was loath to let these out of my site. Damn, if I just had one of those gigs I might prove useful, perhaps spear one of the creatures.

  To hell with it, I'd fire if I needed to. Wading closer, I kept my weapon trained on the closest one as best I could, looking for an opening. While the fight unfold in my peripheral vision, I hoped to hell one didn't sneak up to jump me in the process.

  Roger and Maggie, teaming up on another one, were the least of my worries. Leigh Ann had her creature at the end of her spear, out of arm's reach. A stalemate of horror. She must have missed its heart, assuming such beasts possessed one. Luke became a shadowy blob, then disappeared in the shadow of the temple. Seth, slashed across his chest and forearm, bled heavily. His attacker threatened to provoke my gunfire.

  “Shit.” I jammed the pistol, safety back on, into my jeans. He had the thing's attention; this was my chance. I bum-rushed it just as I had running backs in junior varsity football nearly twenty years ago, closing the distance before it knew what had happened. My shoulder drove into its side, arms wrapping around it. I grabbed its meaty thigh, pulling in, up, lifting its center of gravity as it teetered sideways. We went crashing into the water.

  Seemingly shallow a moment ago, muddy water engulfed me. It filled my nostrils, my mouth, even finding its way down my throat. I fought to shove my head above the surface. I'd hold this thing under, make it drown, I thought, almost immediately realizing the flawed logic – the thing had been submerged. It didn't care. Hell, it could probably breath underwater, or had great lung capacity.

  As its arms locked around me like steel cables, panic took hold. I shoved. Kicked. Drove a knee up, hoping this thing had a pair ready to be racked. The effect, negligible. Instead, its long legs tangled with mine, trying to further bind me.

  Blind to the world, my lungs began to burn. I thought I felt someone grasping at my shoulder to pull me up. Seth? A scream bubbled out of my mouth.

  Please Lord, don't let me go this way, I thought.

  Desperate not to drown, I did the first thing that popped into my mind. I reached up to grab the thing's slimy bald head. Jerking it toward me, I rammed my own head forward. Our heads collided in blinding pain. The binding around me lessened. Someone gave me a jerk backward, my head bursting to the surface. Water erupted from my lungs and I began to inflate them hungrily.

  My blurred vision slowly came into focus. I saw Seth driving down with his gig. Back on my feet, I rushed to take the gig
from Seth since he remained injured. I jabbed down twice before realizing the thing lay dead in the water.

  Still huffing for air, heart struggling to pump enough oxygen, I surveyed the dock area. My new friends were coming back, mostly unharmed: busted lips, minor scrapes and scratches, Seth had taken the most damage. He needed to have his cuts disinfected, perhaps stitched up. I had a First Aid kit back in the boat. I hoped that would do for now.

  “Everyone okay?”

  Seth said, “Stings like a bitch.”

  “Let me see.” Leigh Ann gave his wounds a quick once over, our time being extremely limited. “You'll live.”

  “Let's move. Start cutting the boats free before someone notices us.” We all glanced up the hill at the reverently enthusiastic crowd.

  With the fight over, their chanting sounded loud again. We all had knives. Using my pocketknife, I cut three boats free before the ground shook beneath us again. We all froze during the quick tremor, the chanting crowd exploding in excitement. When the earth stilled, the chanting resumed.

  “Fucking hybrids can pop up anywhere,” Luke said. “Let's get a move on.”

  “Halfway there. Finish with the boats. Hurry.”

  Understatement. As far as I was concerned we couldn't move quick enough.

  “Are you okay?” Maggie asked.

  “I guess...” I said.

  “He'll be fine. C'mon.”

  We finished with the docked boats. Luke climbed onto the dock, quickly extinguished the two closest torches to help hide the disappearance of the boats.

  “Okay, let's make for the temple,” Luke said.

  Roger gestured for us to split up, flank the temple. I followed him and Maggie around the far end, into the shadow of the temple. From nearly twenty feet below, it looked massive. I could tell it couldn't be more than twenty feet long, as many wide. Marble, perhaps? I'd have a better look soon. We began climbing the rocky foundation of the hill. I longed to escape that wet, mysterious terrain. Dry ground never seemed so safe. I sighed with relief.

  The steep incline required us to scramble up its surface using hands and feet. The Temple of Mauz-Gurloth sat perched atop the highest foundation in the county, according to Roger. Could this deity actually have brought about such massive flooding? I wondered. Despite having faced those things I couldn't quite buy some powerful god – at least not a god I had never heard of before – having caused such a deluge. Yet an entire county of people held such beliefs. Their praises, their chants rang loud in my ears. Conspiracy clouded my mind. All my life I'd been taught to believe in an all-powerful Heavenly Being. And perhaps He, the one I believed in, existed. I'd been taught that since childhood, told to believe, have faith with nothing to go on but a book. The Book. And what priests had told me had to be true. All good by me.