Another Man's Wife plus 3 Other Tales of Horror (6 page)

“So, what happened?” Mack asked, his
attention solely on Billy.

Billy told him what he saw, and how the
woman’s Jeep was gone the next day.

“I want to see it,” Mack said,
eager-eyed.

“See it? We have to kill it.”

“Kill it?”

“Yeah,” Billy said. “It must be why no one
from the neighborhood goes swimming or boating.”

“You think they know about the creature?”

“No, it’d be all over the news if they did. I
think people must go disappearing or get found mutilated, so people
simply stay away. They probably don’t tell us kids because they
don’t want to scare us with grisly tales.”

“Wait a minute,” Mack said, leaning forward.
“I’ve seen people swimming in that lake plenty of times, boating
too.”

“Yeah, but no one from the neighborhood.
They’re always outsiders. And what about all the missing posters on
the supermarket wall in town? All of them stating how the people
were known to have gone to the lake around the time they went
missing.”

Mack thought for a moment. “You’re right,” he
said. “But how are we going to kill it?”

The two friends spent the rest of the week
planning. First they’d need proof that such a creature existed and
Billy’s dad’s camcorder would do the trick. They’d need bait to
lure it out of the lake and as much as they wanted to use Jake
Burrows, the class bully, they didn’t. Instead they settled for
Killer, the neighborhood Rottweiler responsible for numerous kids’
stitches and scars. They sat in the woods behind the dog’s doghouse
and learned its schedule.

Killer was put out shortly after nine a.m.
and brought back in after six p.m. everyday. The Freckers were
notorious for going out on Saturdays, leaving Killer all day by
himself. It was as if the dog looked forward to Saturday, always
chewing through his line and escaping. It was the only day kids
knew to stay away from the property. Occasionally someone would get
too close to the house and Killer would come charging. Hence the
many scarred children and mailmen in the area.

Billy and Mack bought sleeping pills, crushed
them up and mixed the contents into pieces of hamburger meat. They
snuck into Killer’s doghouse at night, placing the bowl in the back
of it where the owner wouldn’t notice.

The next morning, Saturday, Billy and Mack
had gotten up early and sat in the woods behind the Freckers’ house
and waited.

Killer was brought out at nine and tied to
his doghouse. He smelled the hamburger and disappeared inside. He
reappeared five minutes later and began stumbling before collapsing
to the ground, asleep.

They tied the animal’s legs together and
placed the heavy dog in a red wagon, covering it with a blanket
before hauling him down the road. Billy wasn’t sure how long the
sleeping pills effect would last, keeping an eye on the blanket the
whole time. Upon reaching the path leading to the lake, they pulled
the wagon over ruts and rocks before winding up at the water’s
edge. Killer was dumped from the wagon and his body positioned just
along the shoreline. The two boys shoved the wagon behind a patch
of tall weeds before climbing half way up the trail and hiding
within a bushel of tall grass.

“How do you know it likes dog?” Mack
asked.

“I don’t,” Billy answered, taking the
camcorder out of its nylon case, getting it ready to record.

Three hours had gone by. The sun was beaming,
the day hot and humid. Their shirts were sticking to them like an
extra layer of skin. Mosquitoes buzzed their ears and prodded their
flesh.

Another hour passed and the sun was dipping
below the horizon. Gnats were now joining in with the mosquitoes
and annoying the hell out of the boys.

“I’m gone,” Mack said, standing.

“Wait,” Billy said, grabbing his wrist to
pull him back down. “The creature might see you.”

“I’ve got to eat. I’m starving.”

Resigned, starving himself, Billy said,
“Fine, we’ll try again tomorrow.” He packed up the camcorder and
slung the strap around his neck.

They walked down to the dog, its stomach
still moving as air pumped in and out of its lungs. “Thought we
might’ve killed him,” he laughed. “What now?”

“Well, he’s still sleeping. We’ll untie his
legs and leave him here. He’ll find his way home.” Billy bent down
and began untying Killer’s hind legs while Mack took care of the
front ones.

“Damn you’re slow,” Billy said, standing and
making fun of his friend. He noticed a stirring in the water like
jets in a hot tub.

“Shit,” Mack said, startled as he jumped
backward landing in the lake. “The dog’s waking up.” Billy watched
as two webbed claws appeared out of the water behind his
friend.

“Mack,” he yelled, trying to warn his friend.
“Watch out.” The creature’s head and shoulders came out of the
water with lightning speed. Before he knew it the thing was in the
air, flying toward them.

Mack turned around, but it was too late. The
creature landed on him and together they splashed into the shallow
water, the back of Mack’s head hitting the muddy shoreline. The
amphibian type creature had a wide sucker-mouth. Its bulbous eyes
had no pupils, reflecting its surroundings like giant onyx marbles.
It had no ears that Billy could see and a small dorsal fin on its
head. A strong algae odor filled the air.

A guttural, phlegm-like sound came from its
mouth before it bit down on Mack’s chest. The webbed claws plunged
into the boy’s sides and seemed to be digging around. Billy charged
forward, kicking the creature in its head. It flailed backward,
Mack’s blood dripping from its maw.

Squealing in anger, the creature pulled its
gore covered hands out of Mack’s limp body before smashing him in
the chest, causing his body to go under the water. Billy tried
connecting with another kick to the monster’s head, but slipped,
landing on his back. The creature sprang out of the water, landing
on Mack’s dead body, crushing it further before lunging at
Billy.

A black streak dashed in front of Billy’s
eyes. He blinked and saw Killer attacking the creature. The dog had
the creature’s slimy arm in its mouth. Dark brown ooze, like
molasses, seeped from where Killer was gnawing. The creature
squealed.

As monster and dog tussled, Billy scrambled
to his feet. The creature grabbed Killer’s head and began crushing
it. The dog yelped for a second before falling limp. The thing
grabbed both of the dog’s legs, ripped them off, and tossed them
over its head. They landed with a soft splash in the water. Billy
turned and ran.

He had never run so fast and for so long in
his fourteen years of living. He burst through the downstairs door
of his house, out of breath, hands on his knees. His mind raced
faster than his pulse. He’d seen his best friend gruesomely killed
by some kind of amphibious abomination. And Killer, the dog that
had tormented so many neighborhood kids for so many years, dead.
Billy wasn’t sure if the dog had tried to protect him or had simply
saw a formidable foe worth challenging. Either way, the dog died
saving his life.

“Billy?” his mother yelled from upstairs. “Is
that you?”

His breathing was still rapid, but had slowed
somewhat. He plodded up the stairs, his adrenaline still
pumping.

“Mom, Dad,” he said, no longer caring if he
got into trouble. People needed to know about the monster. He
entered the kitchen as his parents sat at the table eating.

“What’s gotten into you?” his mother asked,
holding a fork with a piece of rare-cooked steak on the end of
it.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” his
father said. “Is that my video camera?”

Ignoring his father’s question, Billy blurted
out his tale, starting with the woman and her Jeep. He spoke
unhindered by his parents, ending with Mack’s and Killer’s
demise.

His parents had stopped eating, cutlery
resting on their plates. His father’s expression was stoic at
first, seeming indifferent to what he had said, but his face
quickly reddened as his cheek muscles bulged.

His mother’s face paled, tears welling in her
eyes. She looked horrified. Had she believed him? Had she known
about the creature? She looked away for a moment before turning on
him.

“Do you know what you’ve done?” his mother
spat, tears falling down her cheeks.

“I know I’m not supposed to go near the lake,
but . . .” Billy was cut short by his father’s backhand, the smack
loud and painful like a bunch of stinging bees. His father had
never hit him so hard before. He’d been whipped on his backside
with his father’s belt, but the man had never lifted a hand to his
face. The hatred in his father’s eyes was frightening, worse than
any punishment he’d ever been given. Holding his hand to his
blistering cheek, Billy watched as his father rose from his chair
and cocked back his fist.

“Howard,” his mother yelled.

“We have to protect the family. We have a
daughter. Remember her? The one away at college?”

Billy shrank back, confused. What the hell
were his parents talking about? Protect the family? He closed his
eyes as his father’s fist came at him. The impact was like a steel
pipe colliding with his head before everything went black.

He awoke upright, his head bruised and
pounding. Opening his eyes, he saw hundreds of people standing
before him, all staring with somber faces. They were the adults
from the neighborhood. He tried moving, but found his arms were
tied around a wooden post behind his back. His ankles too. Two
torches, alight with flame, stood a few feet to either side of him.
Night had fallen, the sky was clear, the stars shining bright. The
air was humid, and the gentle breeze that was blowing did little to
relieve the heat emanating from Billy’s body. His father stood
before him.

“Let this night be a lesson to us all,” he
said.

“Dad . . .” Billy said, eyes beginning to
tear.

“Keep yourselves and your children away from
the lake. Let the wanderers and outsiders supply the Mogroth with
food. The pact must not be broken. We’ve stopped having to
sacrifice our own by letting the creature take outsiders.”

“Dad, what the hell is going on?” Billy
asked, crying and struggling against his bindings.

“You will be quiet, boy,” his father said,
slapping him across the face. His father turned to face the crowd.
“We must be vigil in our lives and honor the pact our fathers and
their fathers before them made.” He observed the crowd, catching
the eyes of many.

“This,” he pointed to his son. “This is what
will happen to your children if you don’t keep them away.” Half the
onlookers appeared frightened, others angered. “Or worse, the
creature will curse us all, leaving our lands and families in
ruin.” He raised a fist in the air. “Have you forgotten the history
of our community?”

The neighborhood knew well the story of its
past. Shortly after the village’s forefathers settled the land the
people began dying. Children didn’t live past the age of four.
Crops and commerce all but ceased as if the lands were cursed.
Something needed to be done.

The people prayed at church on Sundays, but
nothing ever changed until a witch came to town. She was passing
through, had made plans to stay, but said it was a place of evil.
The town’s elders begged her for help, which was unusual, as most
witches were driven away or worse, killed.

The witch told the town’s elders that a
powerful spell would be needed to keep the evil at bay. She
gathered a sample of blood from every town resident and made her
spell. Using one of the dead and a water serpent, she created the
Mogroth.

The Mogroth was a supernatural creature that
lived in lakes and swamps, surviving on human flesh. The town would
need to sacrifice a human to it at least once every four months, a
small price to pay. In doing so the town’s residence would never
become sick. Cancer, influenza, plague and all other ailments would
never befall them. Their children would grow up healthy and live to
an old age and business would always be profitable. The witch
warned them against ever raising a hand to the creature, for the
consequences would be dire. If a town resident ever meant to harm
the Mogroth then that individual would have to be sacrificed to the
creature or the entire town would fall into ruin. Incurable disease
would befall everyone, crops would die, and prosperity would cease.
No matter where they fled, the curse would follow them until
death.

Having given the crowd time to reflect,
Howard continued. “Let this sacrifice keep the lake pact unbroken.”
He stepped forward, the crowd parting.

“Dad,” Billy cried. He saw his neighbor that
had babysat him when he was a young child. “Mrs. Peterson?” He
looked to the bystanders, each one averting their eyes and lowering
their heads.

As his father disappeared into the distance,
the crowd closed in, following after the man.

Billy was left alone as his cries dwindled.
He continued to struggle uselessly. The crickets and frogs that had
been chirping became silent. He heard the water ripple behind him.
The silent night air was broken by the low gurgle of the creature’s
growl. Billy’s pants darkened in the crotch as his bladder let
loose. He began shaking, screaming for help, his voice echoing,
unanswered. The creature’s rancid mildew and dead fish breath
struck Billy’s nose making him gag.

The Mogroth grabbed Billy’s left arm and tore
it from the shoulder socket. The rope holding his wrists snapped as
blood gushed from the gaping hole. He screamed in horror, the pain
not settling in yet. He heard a splash, remembering how the
creature had tossed Killer’s legs after removing them. Numbness
seemed to fill his body until he felt the Mogroth’s mouth close
over his neck. Its teeth sunk in, but in a saw-like manner, cutting
deep and severing muscle. He felt the warmth of his blood dribble
down his neck, coating his chest and back as the creature chewed
and sucked. The monster lifted its head from him, engulfed Billy in
a bear-hug and tore him and the post from the ground. It headed
back to the water, Billy still alive as he went under. The creature
brought Billy’s body to its lair and finished the meal. The pact of
Beaver Dam Lake remained.