A Crying Shame Read online

  Mike looked around the room, at the people seated there, his eyes briefly touching each person. Drs. Lewis and von Pappen, Debbie, Linda, Tammy. They shook their heads no.”

  The Links have gone wild. They attacked two fishermen early this morning ... other side of the swamp. Not even in this parish. Killed them. Ate them. Les Blackwell is dead; deathbed statement laid it on Ralph Hunter at the funeral home. Claims Ralph is actually one of the Links’s kids. Attacked him with a scalpel. Cut him to ribbons.”

  Mike put his hat on his head, adjusting it to his liking, slightly cocked to one side. All right, people, I’ve got a parish to evac.”

  Mike?” Jon’s voice stopped him in a half-turn.

  Yes?”

  Why do you wear Photograys constantly? I can tell they have no correction in them. You never take them off.”

  Mike’s smile was knowing. He had been anticipating that question. I wondered when you’d get around to asking that. You think I’m also one of the Links’s offspring, don’t you?”

  The thought has occurred to me, yes.”

  Mike removed his glasses. His eyes were a dark brown, almost black. I’m very sensitive to light. The local eye doctors put me in them a long time ago.”

  Sorry,” Jon apologized.

  Mike shook his head. No need for that; you’re just a very thorough man, that’s all. After I evac this parish—or as much of it as I can, and as many people who will go—I’ll be back. Be careful, folks, all hell is about to break loose.”

  I’m very much surprised the press hasn’t learned of this,” Lewis said.

  Jeansonne told me on the radio the press has been calling his office requesting, demanding in some cases, information as to why certain guard and reserve units have been called in, why so many troopers, and where they were sent. It won’t be long.”

  Then the curiosity-seekers will descend on this parish,” Tammy said. Or as close as they can get. And some of them will get hurt or killed.”

  Correct,” Mike said. We’re going to try to seal it off tight, but that’s an impossible job. Yes,”—he nodded his head—there are going to be some unnecessary deaths.”

  They sat in silence, watching Mike leave, knowing the man had an impossible and completely unenviable job facing him.

  Jon said, almost to himself, I wonder what’s happening in the swamp.”

  Death,” Debra said quietly.

  Linda,” Dr. Lewis questioned, his voice soft, are you ready for a blood test?”

  She looked at Jon, touched his arm. Yes,” she said.

  The Links watched with an almost satisfied look on their apelike features as the large party of men—two to a boat—motored slowly deeper into the swamp. It was slow going, for in the deep swamp there were no channel markers. Anytime fishermen would mark a channel, the markers would mysteriously vanish, or they would be moved, and someone would have a tragic boating accident.

  Sometimes the bodies were never found.

  Deep in the swamp, the moss hanging overhead, snakes and ’gators watching from the gloom—as well as other creatures—Joe called the flotilla to a halt. It was very quiet. Using a CB, he ordered the party to split up, approximately twenty men, ten boats to a team. Stay in touch at all times, he cautioned them. If you contact the Devil’s creatures, engage them, destroy them, and remember: we are doing God’s work. Move out—and good luck and good hunting.

  Joe and Doug would take the last team and move deepest into the swamp, to No Name Island, that odd-shaped upthrust of land almost in the dead center of the swamp.

  But Booger and Ralph had warned the Links, and they were hiding, safe deep in the caves.

  Only the maddened young males were waiting.

  Watching.

  The first team veered off to the west, the men ever vigilant, tossing their beer cans and soft-drink bottles into the water, leaving a trail of gum wrappers and sandwich wrappers in their oily wake.

  A boat in the center of one team had to pull out, its prop fouled on something. The others passed slowly by; then the dark swamp swallowed them, the only memory of their passing the drone of outboards fading into the gloom. Waves gently slapped the side of the boat, then those dissipated. The swamp grew silent, seeming to close in on the men.

  Noble Rousseau looked around him at the streaks of light filtering in past the vegetation, the thick water shrubs, and the hanging moss. Sure is quiet in here,” he observed. You really think we’ll see any of them things?”

  Mule Whitney glanced at him. I reckon. I’d sure like to have me one of them heads. I’d mount it in my den.”

  Those were the last words spoken by either of them. Their boat was suddenly capsized, the men tossed into the dark waters. So abrupt was the action the men did not have time to scream. They never really saw their attackers, knew only a slow choking death as they were held underwater by clawed hands until their lungs filled and their hearts, overtaxed, burst from the strain.

  As Drs. von Pappen and Lewis had discovered, when they had cut into a Link’s chest, that enormous cavity held a pair of lungs almost twice the size of a human’s. A full-grown Link could stay underwater for eight minutes, a minute and a half more with practice.

  And waiting by the banks of small upthrusts all over the swamp, the young maddened Links crouched patiently, listening for the sounds of motors. They smiled grotesquely in anticipation.

  Who is your doctor in New Orleans?” von Pappen asked, studying a slide containing a smear of Linda’s blood. He peered more intently into the microscope, carefully adjusting the magnified beam of light.

  My father was, until he died. Neither Paul nor I ever went to another doctor. Why do you ask?”

  Curious, that’s all. When did your father die?”

  Last year. Before he died, he ... gave me instructions to see only a Dr. Reneau for medical treatment. He was even firmer with Paul about it.” She bit at her lower lip; a sign she was extremely nervous. I never really thought about it ... but that’s rather odd, isn’t it?”

  The German shrugged. Not necessarily. Perhaps your father simply places a great deal of trust in the man.”

  There is something wrong with my blood, isn’t there?” she asked, the words coming out in a rush, her voice breaking at the last.

  Karl smiled. He leaned back in the chair and rubbed his eyes. No, Miss Breaux, there is not. I ... will admit, I am both relieved and disappointed—from a medical standpoint, that is, not personally. Your blood is perfectly normal. And I do not understand that, since the samples of your brother’s blood we obtained showed the same cell structure as the Links’s blood. Basically, that is.”

  Karl was thoughtful for a moment. I should like to ask some questions of a delicate nature, Miss Breaux, if you don’t object.”

  Go right ahead. I’m so relieved that I’m normal, nothing you could say would shock me.”

  Karl smiled. I’m glad you feel that way. Was your mother a promiscuous woman?”

  I beg your pardon? Certainly not!”

  It was not my intention to offend you.”

  I’m sorry. I see what you’re driving at. No, my mother and father were devoted to one another.” She was silent for a moment, remembering something; some bit of hush-hush family gossip from long past. But she was raped, though.”

  Oh? When was this?”

  I’m not certain. About thirty-five years ago, I believe.”

  And how old was Paul?”

  Thirty-five.”

  And where did this assault take place?”

  Here in Fountain Parish. Mother and father had come up here to look at some property they were buying. She was attacked by a field hand; man knocked my father unconscious. They were in bed, sleeping. Father came to and shot the man just as he was climbing out the window. It was in this very house. The room that is now the office.”

  And the assailant?”

  Dead. Father was a crack shot with rifle or pistol. I ... believe he shot the man through the head.”

  And your p
arents’ religious beliefs?”

  We are Catholic. And anticipating your next question, abortion would have been out of the question. My father was adamantly opposed to it.”

  Do you by any chance know your parents’ blood types?”

  I’m sorry, Karl, no, I don’t.”

  No matter. Do you know... could you give me a description of the rapist?”

  She smiled ruefully. There again, I’m sorry, but no. It was something that was not discussed.”

  Do you have the phone number of this Dr. Reneau?”

  Yes, but it won’t do you any good. He’s on vacation during the month of August.”

  Karl’s smile was equally rueful. We seem to be running into a maze of complications.”

  But Paul was definitely... the offspring of those creatures?”

  Yes. I am certain of that, at least. The rapist’s seed. Has to be; your blood is normal.”

  Somehow he found out.”

  Ja. I cannot imagine how he felt knowing he could not—or should not—marry and produce offspring.” He rose from his chair, a bear of a man. He sighed. Perhaps Jon is right; perhaps all the Links should die. I will not presume to push my moral beliefs on him.” He smiled. ”You run along, dear. Tell Jon the good news. You two may have many healthy, normal babies.”

  She blushed.

  It did not take long for the press to conclude that something big was happening, had happened, or was about to happen in Fountain Parish. They descended upon the area like a plague of locusts, pushing, shoving, jockeying for position, asking a never-ending stream of questions, many of them making perfect nuisances of themselves in their quest for sensationalism.

  But Colonel Jeansonne had shut the area down tight, and his troopers were not talking to the press. No one was allowed inside Fountain Parish. But as soon as the first carload of frightened and panicked residents of Fountain crossed the Fain River Bridge, the press fell upon them like carrion after a meal.

  The press listened and grew quiet. Several tittered, but as they listened, the snickering tapered off into a hush. They allowed the motorists to continue on to a motel. The press interviewed several more, then spoke with a busload of people from a home for the elderly. Included in the group were several medical personnel. They corroborated the original report.

  The press raced off to file their stories.

  MONSTERS, the headlines blared across the nation. MISSING LINK FOUND IN LOUISIANA.

  And way down in south Louisiana, a Cajun punched his buddy in the ribs and quipped, Hell, Rufus, dey come see me I could ‘ave tole them ’bout ma Uncle Odey. He been missin’ a link of sumthang for years.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Colonel Jeansonne had sent in teams of troopers to assist Sheriff Saucier in the evacuation of Fountain Parish. But they all knew, as the deadline approached, that they would never to able to reach all the people in the parish. Some would be fishing, swimming, sunbathing; others would be working in their gardens or on their lawns, and would not hear the loudspeakers or answer their phones. But the men had to try.

  By mid-afternoon the swamp was once more silent and foreboding, as if time had not touched it, as it must have been five thousand years before the first upright man looked at its primitive beauty. In the deepest parts of the swamp, bodies—and pieces of bodies—littered the waters, floating among the lilies and the hyacinths. Occasionally there would be a great thrashing as a ’gator or gar struck from below the water, pulling a floating carcass under—to dine.

  A man whose rifle had accidentally discharged, shooting him in the foot, had been taken back to Laclede by two other men. The trio was completely unaware of the disaster that had befallen their comrades. They were caught up in the evacuation and hustled out of the parish. The state police didn’t seem to be all that interested in their story about Joe’s Christian crusade, or about the sixty-odd men still in the swamp.

  Who gave them authorization to take the law into their own hands?” Captain Sundra asked.

  The men were silent.

  Get them out of here,” Sundra said. And keep them away from the press. That’s all we need at a time like this: rumors about a massacre.”

  We heard a lot of shooting,” one crusader insisted.

  And a lot of screaming.”

  What’s this about shooting and screaming?” a reporter asked, walking up to the men.

  Oh, shit!” Sundra said.

  Doug Cooper’s scream echoed over the deep swamp. He fought the clawed hands that dragged him toward the pit.

  Joe Ratliff stood before the leader of the Links, the eldest of all Links. His face was impassive as he listened to Doug’s begging. The Links had used this pit for over a hundred and fifty years. Not often, for they were not a vicious race—not until the madness struck the young males. But occasionally they would have to punish one of their own, and if the punishment warranted death, this was how it was inflicted.

  Doug’s screaming intensified. The man was crying and begging for his life.

  The elder, the possessor of strange blue eyes and human features signaled to Joe. Joe understood the grunts and gestures.

  Are you not ashamed of what you and your cousin have done—tried to do to us?”

  No,” Joe replied in a grunting tongue, using hand gestures to punctuate the grunts.

  Why?” The Link cocked his head to one side, confusion in his eyes.

  Because you and the others like you are evil.”

  Evil? That word is unfamiliar to me.”

  Bad, then.”

  The Link looked at Joe for a long moment; it was a curious look. How are we bad? Our people cared for you. Protected you as a child. Fed you until you could be taken to the lights and big buildings and the others who were more like you. Tell me, how does that make us bad?”

  Your time has passed. It is over for you and your kind.”

  The screaming as Doug was pushed into the pit brought cold sweat to Joe’s forehead. His heart thudded in his chest. He fought to contain his fear, clenching his hands into fists at his side. He knew only too well what was in that pit.

  The blue-eyed Link smiled—grimly. Perhaps that is true,” he signaled and grunted. But it will be over for you first.”

  Doug’s howling was one of pure madness and unbearable agony.

  I am not afraid of death,” Joe said. I have my God.”

  God?”

  My creator.”

  The Link shook his head. I do not understand any of this.”

  The being who gave me life; whose son shed his blood for me.”

  Your mother gave you life. She bled. Bled as you were birthed. I know, I was there.”

  That ain’t the same!”

  Then tell me. Have me understand.”

  Ralph Hunter and Booger Brady stood off to one side ... with their natural parents. They watched without expression.

  You’re stupid!” Joe shouted at the elder. You can’t understand because you’re ignorant. You can’t understand God because you’re godless.... You won’t accept His way.”

  Try to explain through my ignorance.” The Link’s words were sarcastic.

  My God created all living things,” Joe said.

  Ah.” The Link nodded his head. I see. But I am a living thing, am I not? So ... did your God create me?”

  The strange blue eyes touched Joe, and Joe shook his head, refusing at first to reply. He looked around him at other Links. Eyes touched. Some eyes were brown, others were hazel, some were green.

  Joe said, God created all things, both good and bad; your people are bad. Like the poisonous snakes and the harmful spiders.”

  You are one of us, too,” he reminded Joe. Only in human shape.”

  But I accepted God’s ways!”

  All right.” The big Link smiled. Then I accept your God as my own. Does that make everything all right?”

  No!” Joe screamed in frustration. It ain’t that easy.... That ain’t the way it’s done.”

  The Link shook his he
ad and sighed. Let me see if I understand. I am bad, but I want to harm no one who does not attempt to harm me. You are good, but you want to kill those who gave you life. Your God is a very strange God. But,”—he held up one almost-human finger—I wonder if the words from your mouth are His words, or yours alone?

  I knew you were so stupid you wouldn’t understand. You’re worse than stupid!”

  That may be, so-called good person. But if being a not-stupid good person means becoming as you, I would rather be called a stupid bad person.”

  So be it.”

  The big elder nodded grimly, a sad expression in his eyes. You know who I am, don’t you?”

  Joe refused to reply, refused to meet the Link’s steady gaze.

  I am your father,” the Link said.

  My Father is in heaven,” Joe said. Looking after me.”

  He is not doing a very good job of it,” the Link said dryly.

  Joe spat in the Link’s face.

  The Link wiped the spittle from his face and gestured with one hand. Several Links gathered around Joe. Doug’s screaming had faded into a deadly silence. The swamp was quiet as Joe was led to the pit. At the edge, he looked down, paling at the sight. The pit was filled with snakes, almost completely covering Doug’s rapidly swelling and blackening body. Rattlesnakes and Cottonmouths slithered over the corpse, still striking, venom dripping from the body.

  The big blue-eyed male grunted and signaled. I am glad your mother is not here to witness this shame of yours.”

  Joe lifted his eyes, fear-filled eyes, to meet the Link’s stark, accusing gaze. My mother is in Laclede, not out here in this godless pesthole.”

  The Link shook his head sadly. Shame, shame.” He gestured with his hand and walked away, his shoulders slumped in sorrow.

  Joe was pushed into the pit.

  He screamed for only a short time.

  And the Crying Swamp grew silent.

  Over sixty men,” the newscaster intoned gravely, all residents of Laclede, a small town in south-central Louisiana, are feared dead. The men, led by a former deputy sheriff, went into what is known as the Crying Swamp after creatures who—”