Tar and Feathers: Chapter Six

Gateway’s police station had been in disarray for the last week. The Ryan Campbell case had become one of the most talked about cases in the department’s history, and even in the week since they arrived at the crime scene on Marker Street they had already listened to scores of experts in various fields, trying to get an explanation as to what had happened. Lieutenant Lucas Morgan was now holding a meeting amongst the lab techs and detectives working on the case.

The conference room of the police station had been decked out with dry erase boards, each detailing some of the facts that were known about the case. People of interest had been placed on one board and then crossed out as their stories were checked and double-checked.

The lieutenant spoke up. “Here is what we‘re currently stuck on. Either Ryan Campbell’s body had burst open as if by explosives or he had been shot through the back multiple times while lying on the bed. The mattress he had been laying on was however perfectly clean, other than the blood that had soaked all the way through. There was no residue from an explosive and no bullet holes.” He paced about the room. “Next were the tar footprints that showed no point of origin and just mysteriously started on the home’s front porch. These footprints belong to our suspect.”

“Couldn’t they belong to either one of the other people that lived there, or the neighbor?” Scott Ferguson spoke up. He had just been put on homicide for this case and was looking to prove himself.

“No, the alibis of all three check out and the size of the footprints themselves do not match the shoe size of any of the three. Abbie Weber, Jack Cole and Brad Bradley have all been cleared from the suspect list. You should pay more attention Detective Ferguson, or maybe homicide is too much for you.” The lieutenant scolded the young detective.

“Last was the girl that was found at the scene. DNA testing had confirmed that she was a match for the blood found at the scene, but she showed no injury. This has led the department to believe that she is Ryan Campbell’s twin sister, a story she corroborated. However, there are no signs of communication from Ryan to a mysterious sister and the parents deny knowledge of a twin’s existence. There is no record of the existence of this Rachel Campbell. Those are the things we need to focus in on. We need witnesses, canvas the neighborhood again, go door to door if you have to.” The broad-shouldered man with the prominent chin finished his speech and the detectives began to scatter back to their work.

Detective Ferguson was feeling unappreciated at the moment because of his one little slip up. After all, he was the one that had interviewed the girl and had their DNA evidence confirmed. That was an important step in the case. Scott wandered back to his desk, where he shared space with one of the older detectives on the force. Godfrey Woodward sat across from him, his nose buried in a case file. The old man was growing grey and his hair was thinning. Scott often found himself staring into the patch of baldness on his head.

“I can’t believe that. I say one stupid thing and the Lieutenant jumps all over me!”

Godfrey grunted at him and adjusted his glasses, which were as thick as he wished his hair still was. He set the case file down and grabbed another one from a pile, starting to look through it. He had a whole box, with 2001 written on the front of it, filled with them.

“Are you even listening to me?”

“Shut your snot-nosed little mouth, kid. You expecting a gold star on your report card or something here? When you screw up you’re gonna get put in your place, and the only way you know you’ve done good is if you catch the bad guy. Least you’re on the damn case.” Godfrey said in his best grizzled tone. “There was a time when I was the lead on every murder case brought in here, back when Luke and I were partners. Now I’m stuck out here going through old case files and he’s in charge. You learn to deal with your setbacks.”

The old man was not one to listen to his own advice however. He wanted the limelight again, and with all the rumors swirling around the Ryan Campbell case, some of the details stuck out in his mind. The tar footprints in particular reminded him of a small detail in one of the last homicides he had worked. The older case had been more cut and dry. There had been witnesses a plenty, but there were still several oddities about it. One of those had been tar found at the scene of a crime without explanation as to where it could have come from.

 

***

 

“You can do it Doogie!” One of Neil Douglas’s fellow surgeons shouted to him as he left the locker room of St. Sebastian’s and headed to the OR. The nickname grated Neil, but being one of the youngest surgeons the hospital had ever seen and having puffy blonde hair, the moniker followed him wherever he went. Neil had been in the operating room plenty of times before too, yet he was still treated like it was his first every time. He often wondered how long it would take him to get the respect he deserved.

Today he was performing a cholecystectomy on a woman who had stones in her gall bladder. It was an outpatient procedure that was routine, so Neil stepped into the OR confidently. He washed up and nodded to the same familiar faces that would be assisting him, then to one that he did not recognize. There was one doctor in the room, whose eyes seemed almost black as he stared into them. Neil assumed that he was there to observe the procedure. Maybe someone had recognized his standard of excellence and this was his chance to move up the ladder. The stranger was definitely watching him, whatever the situation.

Anesthesia had already been applied, and the patient was ready for him. Those creepy black eyes kept following him across the room, right to where he stood. Neil tried to shrug it off and reached for his scalpel.

The sound of a guitar echoed in his head, followed by a steady drumbeat. He looked around and at one of the other doctors in the room. They were all just staring at him, waiting for him to start.

“Did you hear that?”

None of them answered at him, rather they all stood there like they were frozen in time, all staring at him expectantly.

 

Come my lady. Come, come my lady. You’re my butterfly, sugar baby. Come my lady. Come, come my lady. You’re my butterfly, sugar baby.

 

Neil’s eyes turned and focused on the black-eyed doctor at the far side of the room. That was the direction the singing was coming from but with the facemask on, he couldn’t tell if the doctor was the one humming the tune. It sounded more like it was being piped into the room from someone’s CD player though.

Neil was having trouble clearing the music from his head and the rapping lead singer was driving him a bit batty. Sweat beaded on his brow. He looked back down at the patient, trying to put this music out of his mind but recoiled when he saw the condition of her skin.

The woman on the operating table looked as if she were dead, or worse. Her skin was pale and it looked like the blood underneath had turned into a black sludge. Neil’s eyes widened as he could have sworn she looked perfectly normal just a few moments earlier. He felt alone, and no one else in the room seemed to even notice his presence there other than the beady black eyes that were staring him down.

The table jerked and he felt the woman’s leg kick against his body. He jumped and took a step back from it.

 

Come my lady. Come, come my lady. You’re my butterfly, sugar baby. Come my lady. You’re my
pretty baby. I’ll make your legs shake. You make me go crazy.

 

What appeared to be a dead body rose from the operating table and as the sheet fell away, blank lifeless eyes turned to peer at Neil. In the next moments, the air in the room became electric. The nurses that were assisting Neil once again seemed alive, though it was a fleeting image. The woman on the table sunk her teeth into the neck of one of the nurses and tore away at the flesh. Neil tried to leave the room but the swinging operation room doors stood ground.

“Why is it locked!?” He shouted in a panic, brandishing his scalpel out in front of him as he watched the cannibalistic woman attack another one of the nurses. Blood was gushing out of wounds, and the man with the black eyes just watched with a bemused look on his face.

The slurping sound of watching one human swallow the flesh of another made Neil sick to his stomach. Then his nightmare grew worse. The ones that had fallen rose again, their wounds still gushing blood. Their gazes were now as empty as the first woman’s had been. One of the nurses gurgled, unable to moan because her vocal chords had been ripped out. The other two living corpses moaned in a way that made Neil incontinent. Slowly, plodding at a maddening pace, they advanced on the doctor.

He waved his scalpel about in front of him and could feel the warm sanguine liquid spill onto his hands as he connected with the patient’s neck. He could feel the other two grab onto his arms though, and he knew as they tugged at him that he would not be long for this world.

 

So sexy…almost evil, talkin’ about butterflies in my head. I used to think that happy endings were only in the books I read, but you made me feel alive when I was almost dead.

 

“What did you do!?” Neil heard someone screaming. He still felt restrained and could feel the warmth of the blood soaked into his scrubs start to fade.

His eyes refocused and he could see the operating table in front of him, with the patient laying on it. There was a crimson smear leading down from the woman’s neck, which had been slashed. He dropped his scalpel in panic as he realized that the two nurses that had been at his side were now restraining him. What he had seen had been so real, yet now here he was staring at a real dead body, and it appeared as if he was the one that killed her. The sulfurous smell of boiling tar wafted through his nostrils as he gave up struggling.

 

***

 

“Uh, come and dance with me!” Zorn sang as he shimmied about. He was still dressed in the scrubs from the operating room when he boarded the elevator and was met by Ansel.

The angel looked almost plain when dressed in human garb. By an illusion, his wings were hidden and he was wearing a suede jacket and blue jeans. Even with his sharpened senses, Zorn may have mistaken the angel for a human if he did not know the man so well.

“You look quite pleased with yourself.” Ansel greeted the demon with stern eyes.

“As I should. Humans are so self-reliant on their eyes. If they would learn to trust their other senses more then they’d be a lot better off. Of course, they’d also be able to see through our cloaks too, so I’m glad they’re so pathetic.”

“You often forget that we are on opposite sides of the coin, Zorn.”

The elevator doors closed and Ansel’s hand jutted out, pinning Zorn by his throat to the wall of the elevator. Not only did he begin to squeeze the life out of the demon, his hand glowed in a white aura and Zorn’s flesh seared.

“Whoa! What’s going on?” Zorn choked and gasped for breath.

“What sins were that doctor and patient guilty of Zorn?”

“Er… I’m pretty sure the doctor was a dru-ack!” Ansel tightened his grip around the demon’s neck, his handprint being branded onto the demon’s skin.

“I have allowed you to live all of these years because you see the darkness in men’s souls. You have proven yourself a worthy ally in my crusade against sin, and you are willing to do things that no other living being would ever dream of. However, if you are going to slaughter people with no cause, just to get your jollies, I will end you!”

“All right! Let me go!” Zorn shouted back before he was dropped to the ground. The demon clutched at his neck where the angel had grasped him and was gasping for breath now.

“Do not make the mistake again!” Ansel shot up and through the hatch in the top of the elevator, leaving Zorn alone trying to recover from his attack.

Zorn started to laugh like a mad hyena as soon as the angel had left his sight, even though he stuttered as he did so, his windpipe in pain. His black eyes stared at the open hatch and he licked the tips of his teeth.

“Oh you are coming along nicely.”

Zorn was still slumped down in the corner of the elevator when the doors opened again. Detective Godfrey Woodward stared down at him with concern.

“Are you all right there Doctor?”

“Oh I’m fine, but you would not believe what I just saw.”

 

***

 

A black and white photograph taken of the last thylacines to die in captivity reflected Jack’s face as he examined the newspaper clippings, photographs and artist’s renderings that lined the wall of the office he now waited in. There were also various other items that made it look like a cross between Fox Mulder‘s office and an animal lodge. There was an oddly shaped bear skull on top of a glass case filled with other small bones and plaster casts of animal prints. Jack sat impatiently in a large leather chair and started reading a recent article about a chupacabra sighting.

Terry Zook was a short chubby man dressed in a black leather jacket. He had long scraggly black hair and wore a straw hat with a palm tree printed cloth band wrapped around it.

“Found it.”

Mr. Zook produced a small spyglass, like something used to appraise diamonds. He sat back in his own chair on the other side of the desk and held out his hand expectantly.

“Okay let me have a look.”

Jack could not believe that he was in this man’s office handing him the small sample of tar he extracted from the crime scene at his home. Once he accepted the fact that Ryan was indeed a girl though, he was forced to open his mind to the possibility of a tarfoot. Jack found Terry Zook through an internet search on tar being left at crime scenes. This strange man in front of him was the preeminent expert on The Tarfoot Phenomenon, which was coincidentally the name of his website. Zook was also a cryptozoologist, which before the last week would have put him near the top of the list of crazies right under people that thought 9/11 was an inside job.

“Yes, it does appear to be tar. You say there was a footprint trail of this left at a crime scene and there was no visible point of origin that it could have come from, correct?”

Jack nodded, hoping that the green looking ball of muck in the glass case was not really supposed to be alien feces.

“Well, that certainly does sound like a tarfoot. You know, there is a long history of footprints like this being found at the sites of murders, suicides and all kinds of violent acts. For instance, the locals in Guyana talk about a devil that was seen around Jonestown before the massacre there in the late 70s.”

“Yeah, I read about that on your website. I believe you also said there was some left at the Sharon Tate murders and that this phenomena goes back as far as the end of the Second World War”

“I am glad that someone takes me seriously. Even my colleagues think I’m a joke these days, just because I spend my time looking for tarfoot instead of some of the more popular cryptids.” Zook groaned and turned back around to face Jack. “Do you know how many people are out looking for Sasquatch or Nessie? I am the only one looking for tarfoot though. Well, I suppose not the only one. There’s you now, and I got a call from some police officer in some place called Gateway earlier today asking about them.”

“Well… I always find it’s best to never rule out a possible solution to a problem just because most people would say it’s crazy.” Jack smiled, though in his head he felt dirty for saying it. Just because some nut picked up on one mysterious phenomenon in the world, did not make them all real. He was also wondering how the Gateway Police had managed to pick up the same trail that he had.

“That’s a good way to look at things son.”

“I always thought so… anyway, I was hoping you could help me find one of these creatures. I didn’t see anything about that on your website. Like, how do you spot one?”

“Well, that’s the thing. There have been very few actual sightings. They can shape shift and seem to have methods of camouflage that would make a chameleon jealous. The one thing I can tell you is something the locals in Guyana passed on to me. Cats can see right through their illusions and will raise their fur and hiss when one is near. Some of the villagers even seemed to think that cats could be used to ward them off, like the devils were afraid of them somehow.”

“Thank you for your help Mr. Zook, if you think of anything else that might be helpful, give me a call first.”

Jack handed him one of his business cards, which had Red Eye Investigations printed in bold letters on it, as well as listing his address as being from Gateway. Jack missed the sparkle in the man’s eyes when he saw that Jack was from the same city as the officer that had called earlier. He was too busy thinking about the possibility of getting a cat. Abbie was allergic to them, or else they probably would have owned a few by now. Jack knew this was another dead end though. Whatever had left those footprints could be long gone by now, and even with a cat as a warning system, what guarantee was there that the thing would return to the scene of the crime. Somehow, Jack had to get a hold of the case files in the police station or else he would be stuck without a lead.

 

***

 

Despite her late afternoon breakdown, the first day of the second week since Ryan had become a girl was much brighter than the entire first week. Ryan was herself again and even the realization that she could no longer run to her parents for help had not put her back into brooding. She was already searching for reasons why she could not go shopping with Abbie the next day though. The thought of being her friend’s personal Barbie doll was not a pleasant one. It was for this reason that she was not anxious to see what surprise Abbie had for her in the cardboard box that now sat between Abbie and Ryan.

“Well, are you going to open it, or not?”

“Abbie, the last time I opened a cardboard box I was attacked by demon slugs. Excuse me if I’m approaching it with a bit of trepidation.”

“I spent all day making you a present, now open it!”

Ryan now looked at Abbie in the same manner that she had been staring at the box just a moment earlier. She bent over and pulled the box closer. Years of shaking Christmas presents let Ryan know immediately that the box was filled with clothes. She lifted one of the folded over cardboard flaps to confirm this and then turned her attention back to her friend.

“You just couldn’t resist trying to get me into some strange outfit, could you? I told you earlier that I‘m not up for the whole ‘cute’ thing.”

“Did you even look at what was in there? Ryan, you need clothes, like it or not. If you would just look before passing judgment, maybe you would like what you see.”

Ryan sighed, and held up a navy blue t-shirt. Looking at it, she recognized the bearded dragon that was painted across the chest. It was near exactly like one she had owned before, even looked well worn. The only difference was the size and the style of the shirt, which frankly looked perfect for her current body.

“How’d you find this?”

“I told you. I made it. Now, I am not sure how well it will fit cause I had to guess at your size, but I think they should all be better than what you have now. I can make some more alterations too if you want them to really fit well.”

“Well, where’d you get the material and the designs though? I can’t imagine it’s easy replicating the designs.”

“Oh, well… I took your old clothes and used the fabric. I did not think you would need them anymore.”

Ryan looked bitter at the idea of her old clothes being torn to shreds. In her mind, there was a good chance she would need them again.

“You should have asked before you did that. I mean, if Jack’s investigation goes well, I could change back. You know, he’s investigating the case for me.”

Abbie held her tongue. She knew more than Ryan did about what Jack was really investigating. Before the change, Ryan had never shown interest in what Jack did when he was up in his office drinking. He just assumed he was some drunk. Abbie however knew that if Jack was this interested that he must be investigating his mother’s death again. It was something that she did not need to be told.

“Okay Ryan, but do you at least like them?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Ryan sighed hesitantly. “It will be nice to have a change of clothes. I never was much on sweatshirts after all. Does this mean that you’ve given up on this shopping trip idea of yours?”

“No. You still need underwear, and there are many other essentials that you would not think of needing until it creeps up on you. Besides, I have spent my entire life obsessed with women’s clothing. Who better to help you out than me?”

“I can do my own shopping Abbie.” Ryan replied flatly.

“Oh really? You can figure out your measurements on your own? Pick out the proper bra? Have you ever even been in the women’s department at a store?”

“I don’t plan on wearing a bra, or panties, or anything else like that. Can we talk about this in the morning?

“You can’t avoid things like this forever Ryan. Fate chose for you to be a girl, like it or not.”

“I’m not avoiding, I’m just a bit worn out here. It’s been a long week and the thought of sleeping in a real mattress again…”

“Fine, go to bed.” Abbie sighed in a defeated tone and exited Ryan’s bedroom, calling back, “Goodnight.”

Ryan sorted through the box and examined the rest of the clothes that Abbie had made for her. She noticed that her jeans and shorts had also been repurposed. She held one of the pairs against her waist and noticed that the legs only would go down to her calves, yet they looked to fit like jeans. She shook her head.

“Just couldn’t resist, could you Abbie?” She mused, before folding the capris back up and adding them to a pile in front of her dresser. Girl or boy, she seemed determined to continue her tradition of not putting her clean clothes away immediately.

The borrowed mattress looked just as inviting as her old one ever did. With blankets and pillows on loan from both Jack and Abbie, the bedspread was a mismatch of styles, but little of that mattered. What did matter all of a sudden was the fact that she needed to change clothes before going to bed. Ryan routinely wore cotton shorts and an old t-shirt to bed and on a normal night could not fall asleep in anything more or less. This presented a challenge to the girl who had yet to confront her new body fully. She set both a pair of shorts and a t-shirt that Abbie had so kindly resized for her on the sheets and stared at them, as if hoping they would just leap onto her body on their own power. When they did not, she was left with little choice. She unfastened the donated jeans she had been wearing and closed her eyes tightly.

“It’s just like going to the bathroom. No big deal, you won’t see anything.” She convinced herself.

The light grey cotton shorts were around her ankles and being pulled up as quickly as she could manage. They fit her a little loose and she thought that they were a bit on the short side. She did not like the fact that the legs did not even reach her knees. She scratched at one of her legs, which after a week was now in need of a fresh shave.

The t-shirt lay on the bed tauntingly. She was not ready to confront the two perfectly shaped mounds of flesh on her chest. Even after a week, she had never been topless. Washing was even left to a washrag and the bathroom sink during her stay in the hospital. There was no way to remove the sweatshirt and put on the t-shirt without exposing herself, like she had managed with the dressing gown in the hospital. It was hard to believe that she was now afraid to look at a pair of breasts after spending much of her life trying to see as many pairs as possible.

Ryan slowly lifted the Missouri University sweatshirt. Up it crept, revealing her thin, yet toned abdomen. She even managed to slide the fabric high enough so the bottom curvature of the fleshy orbs could be seen, but it was short-lived. Ryan tugged the shirt back down much quicker than she had lifted it, and whimpered pathetically.

This was not at all like the transgendered fantasy stories that Abbie read on the net. Back when everyone in the house shared Ryan’s computer, Abbie had left a bookmark to one of the sites and curiously, Ryan had read a few. There was no complete acceptance of her new form like the one the protagonists in the stories would have. Ryan doubted that even for someone like Abbie, who desired what had happened to Ryan more than anything in the world, would be immediately accepting of the situation. The first time Ryan had forced herself to sit down when she peed was traumatizing enough. The vacant feeling between her legs continued to haunt her, but she was doing her best to not look or touch the area. She figured if she just closed her eyes and did what she needed to do that she could get through it. The same technique did not seem to be working in regards to baring her chest though. Trying to remove her sweatshirt made her all too aware of the protruding lumps. Something had to be done about them though. There were several times throughout the course of the day where she felt them brush against the fabric of her shirt or jiggle in an awkward way that sent chills down her spine. If she had not been overweight before the change and therefore used to the slight jiggle of flesh, she probably would have broken down on the spot when it happened.

Ryan’s sweatshirt was already starting to feel a bit overbearing. She was not used to wearing anything with long sleeves, because her arms had been so long as a boy. When she slid herself under the covers and rolled over onto her side, the shirt bunched up on her in ways that made her toss and turn before she even had a chance to get tired. This was how most of the night would go and Ryan had nothing to distract her or calm her down in the middle of the night with her computer having been confiscated.

She rolled over and looked at the bright blue digital numbers on her alarm clock. 3:11. She had been shifting around in her bed for hours already and had a serious case of bed head to show for it. She groaned and kicked her sheets and faux-velvet blanket aside in a frustrated way, then spun her legs around and got out of bed. Her head drooped as she left her room and walked through the black house that was lit by nothing other than the streetlights outside.

The refrigerator light was like a torch lighting up a cave. Ryan removed a carton of orange juice that had a heavy amount of pulp in it, tilted her head back and took a drink. Some of the juice dribbled down her chin and throat to her chest before she shoved the carton back in its place and slammed the door shut.

With the idea of watching TCM until she passed out from exhaustion, she lurched over to the couch and fell down on it without realizing what she was falling onto. Her head smacked against Jack’s skull and she reeled back into a sitting position, rubbing her forehead.

“What the hell?” Jack was also rubbing at the knot forming on his forehead where Ryan’s smacked against his. He sat up as his eyes adjusted and Ryan scrambled down to the other end of the couch.

“Ryan? What are you doing?”

“I can’t sleep.” She whined.

“Well, it’s hard to sleep when you’re wandering around the house at three in the morning. I went to all the trouble of giving you my mattress too, so why can’t you sleep?”

“My sweatshirt is itchy and hot.” Ryan mumbled.

“Then take it off and put on a t-shirt. How is that hard to figure out?”

“It’s not!” Ryan yelled, though her voice seemed to fade into a sigh. “It’s just… my chest. I haven’t exactly seen it since… you know. I’m just a little bit afraid of my own body still.”

“I see. Well, I don’t know what to say about that, but all this whining about your body… it is completely out of character for you Ryan. They‘re just breasts. I may not understand what it’s like to have them, but no one is going to see them except for you.”

“I know that and I already tried to just close my eyes and do it, but I couldn’t bring myself to it. This is so ridiculous! I can’t even change clothes without having issues now.” Ryan sounded like she was about to cry again. Jack wondered when all the crying would stop with her as he scotched a bit closer and put his hand on her leg, giving it a squeeze. He felt the bare stubbly skin and stopped. Ryan stopped too before she started sniffling.

“Ryan, are you wearing shorts?”

“Well, I’ve taken my pants off before. I mean, I had to go to the bathroom, so…”

“Go change your top and go to bed.”

The way Jack said it, as if he was speaking to a child struck Ryan right through the heart. She knew she was acting silly. It was not as if she was going to be staring at them. She also realized that she liked talking to Jack more than she used to. There was something about him that made her feel protected and she felt like she could put aside all of the bullshit and do what needed to be done. She was glad to have friends that were being so supportive of her.

“Okay. Um… before I go, why are you sleeping on the couch? I thought you had an extra mattress or something.”

“No. I’m going to have to go out and buy one. After all, after what you told me this afternoon, I don’t think that you’re going to be paying for anything for a while.”

“Sorry about that.”

“It’s fine. I sleep on the couch here more often than you realize. I’m just as comfortable. If you really feel bad, then you’ll go get some sleep.” Jack sounded more and more irritable and Ryan noticed it.

“Good night Jack. Thank you for talking me into my senses.”

“Good night Ryan.”

Ryan smiled and scooted back towards her bedroom, once again thinking about the stories on the website that Abbie liked so much. If she had been in one of them, the conversation she just had been in with Jack would have ended up with something contrived. There would have been suggestions of him helping her take her top off or that they share the bed, thus creating unnecessary sexual tension. She was glad that she was living in reality. Ryan needed to be reminded of that too.

The reality might have been harsh, but she could not go through life never changing clothes. It might have been tough for her to face, but she was going to have to grin and bear it. It was okay to be avoidant when she was in the hospital, but now she needed to get on with her life one step at a time. In her room, she eyed the t-shirt again and with little hesitation swooped the sweatshirt up over her head. The room was colder than she thought and she felt the tinge of the breeze her ceiling fan created on her nipples. With her top off, there was the brief thought that maybe she should see what she had been so afraid of, but the newly sized t-shirt was over her body within an instant.

“One step at a time…”

As the shorts had been a bit loose in the hips, her new shirt was a bit loose in her chest. Ryan was perfectly content with the way it fit though. She did not need tight clothing reminding her of her accents.

Not surprisingly, climbing back into bed and getting under her covers again was much easier than before. Her mind was racing, but at least she was comfortable. She laid flat on her back and placed one of her pillows over her eyes then took deep breaths. This had been a method she had used since college to calm herself and clear her mind. Before she knew it, she was yawning. The pillow went back under her head and she fell asleep with no more problems.

 

***

 

Dolphins skipped along the surface of the water as they followed the tramp steamer called Venture across the open seas. It was a beautiful day to be on the open ocean. The sun was high in the sky and there were only friendly looking clouds for miles around. Jack, dressed in a tweed vest over an unbuttoned dress shirt and sweaty undershirt, looked out over the railing near the bow. Abbie stood next to him in her best yellow sundress. A salty sea breeze accentuated the already lovely day.

“Can you smell it Abbie? There is adventure in the air. Chartering this boat and sailing off to our own island was the perfect idea.”

“It really was, but I think I am going to spend the majority of my time on the beach. With the weather we are having, it is the perfect day to lie out.”

The two friends were as merry as can be. Nothing could touch them, as if their lives were as perfect and wonderful as the day at hand. Their white teeth glistened in the sun. The horizon provided a flawless backdrop for the two of them. It was like a postcard, or the scene out of a movie. It would have been no surprise if Jack had stepped up onto the railing and shouted ‘I’m the king of the world!’

Ryan was miserable. Her curled shoulder-length dark brown hair tickled her neck and ears as it blew about in the breeze, yet most of it was stuffed under a black fisherman’s cap. She was dressed in a heavy button up shirt that was too big on her so it puffed out when the wind blew through. If her hair had been shorter or she tugged the cap down over her eyes more, she could have easily passed for a cabin boy on the ship. She had her back against a stack of crates and was listening to Jack and Abbie’s jubilant dialogue. The reason for her misery was that she did not want to go on this trip in the first place. When Jack approached her with a map to some mysterious island with an ominous name, she had balked. Then when they chartered a ship and it was a rusted old tramp steamer, she got downright grumpy. Now, Jack and Abbie were merrily chatting on the ship’s bow and for some reason did not see the danger that lied ahead. The way the ship’s crew had responded when they were told the ship’s destination was enough of a warning for Ryan.

“Guys! Seriously, I don’t think it’s called Skull Island because it’s full of puppies and rainbows. I really think we should turn back, go see a play, or maybe that new Carl Denham picture. I hear it’s a love story with Ann Darrow, what do you think?”

“Ryan, don’t be a wet blanket. It’s just a name. It’s kind of like Devil’s Tower, Dante’s Peak, or Death Valley. They’re all just names. They don’t have any real significance.” Jack responded flippantly.

“I’m pretty sure they call it Death Valley because it’s one of the hottest places on the planet and very little grows there.”

“Actually, it was given the name Death Valley by miners that tried to take a short cut to the gold fields of California. This group of miners got stuck there for weeks trying to cross and they gave it its name, even though only a single member of their party died.” Abbie added with a smile that reminded Ryan of a teacher imparting knowledge on a student. “So technically, it is just a name. Just like Skull Island is just a name. I mean, it could be named that because it is shaped like a skull.”

“Fine, when Jack’s roasting over a spit and the natives sacrifice you to some Lovecraftian beast, don’t come crawling to me for help!” Ryan grumped and stormed back towards the cabins.

Ryan did not make it all the way back below deck however before the ship was set upon by fog. The mist swallowed the vessel inch by inch. Ryan held her hand up to her face and could barely make out the shape of her hand. She waved her arms about blindly searching for the doorway when she was bumped into from behind.

“Who is that?”

“Turn around you idiot, it’s just me and Abbie.” Jack muttered, when Ryan turned around she could see her two friends clear as day, bathed in green light.

“Oh come on! Where did you even get that?” Ryan complained, motioning to a kerosene lantern that Abbie was holding in her hand. The glass around the flame was tinted green.

“My cousin Hal gave it to us before we left. He said it would protect us and went on with some kind of oath. Let me see, it went something like… In brightest day, in blackest night–”

“I get it already!” Ryan cut Abbie off. “Can we just get back to the cabins please? I do not want to take any chances here. There could be a many-tentacled beast lurking about in the mist.”

“That’s just silly Ryan. Where would something like that even come from?” Jack asked.

“We’re on the ocean…”

The ship sounded its fog horn and the three friends made their way back into their cabins. Ryan sighed as she collapsed onto her bed. She did not understand why her friends did not sense the impending doom that was headed towards them. Voyages on steamers to unknown places never went well. She wondered if none of them had ever read Heart of Darkness.

The fog horn went off again, it was loud, but Ryan felt comfort in knowing that it meant they would not be crashing into any other ships. This time, however, the horn received a response. A might bellow rang out across the ocean waves and Ryan swallowed hard. It was unlike anything she had ever heard, like a lion’s roar magnified hundreds of times. It was so primal, inhuman and black that she immediately rushed out of her cabin to see what exactly she should be afraid of.

Skies had started to clear again. They were as blue as the clear shallow water that lead towards an island not far off in the distance. The sight of the island had Abbie and Jack whooping and whistling, but it just filled her with more dread. There was a tiny beach where someone could make landfall, but it was surrounded by impassable cliffs. From the beach, there was a path leading up into the heart of the island, and through a village of straw huts before it dead-ended at the most massively constructed wall she had ever seen. It would have put the Great Wall of China to shame, had it been located anywhere other than this tiny island in the middle of nowhere. How could her friends overlook such glaringly ominous signs?

“Lower the rafts! We’re going ashore!” Jack shouted out, before Ryan could question either of her friends motives.

The crew loaded up one of the boats with supplies as Abbie jumped up and down excitedly.

“What are you going to do first Jack? That beach looks so inviting, and I will bet that the natives will have a huge feast waiting for us when we arrive.”

“Well, I was thinking about learning some of the local customs and colloquialisms. Village elders are always vast pools of knowledge.”

“That sounds so fun! Do you think you could rub some suntan lotion on me before you go do that though? Us redheads are rather fair skinned after all.”

“Are you two even listening to yourselves?” Ryan stepped up. She could not believe what was coming out of her friends mouths. “You’re acting as if we just arrived in Hawaii and there’s going to be a luau waiting for us! Hell, Abbie practically said that exact thing! Get a dose of reality. There is a giant wall that is clearly being used to keep something out of the village, which is probably inhabited by savage cannibals!”

“Lighten up Ryan. Are you coming or not?” Jack asked him, standing in the raft that was already being lowered into the pristine waters.

“No!”

Ryan sat and watched as the raft, Jack, Abbie and some of the crew sailed towards the island. She knew she was right on this one, and if the loss of a few of her friends was not going to be on her conscious. She stood on deck and watched over the waves for hours. Crewmembers were working diligently behind her, but she did not seem to notice. Instead, she was waiting for screams. She thought for sure that at any moment she would see people running back for the boat, screaming with spear carrying islanders chasing after them. It never happened though, and as the sun started to go down and torches were being lit on the island, she gave up and retreated to her cabin. There would be plenty of gloating the next day about how she had been wrong and that she should have come and enjoyed herself, but she put that out of her mind and tried to immerse herself in a book. Perhaps if she had been reading Swiss Family Robinson instead of Lord of the Flies, her mind would not have been filled with such paranoia.

The sound of tribal drums met her ears next, and she could imagine that there was probably a festival going on right that minute complete with a roasted pig. She had let her imagination run wild and now others were reaping the benefits. She wondered if she could get the captain to agree to send a second boat to the island. Maybe it was not too late to join in the festivities. Ryan tossed her book to the ground and stood from her bunk, which is when she felt a pin prick in her neck. She looked up and there, standing in front of her was one of the natives she had been so afraid of. He was dressed in little more than a loincloth and had a bone pierced through his nostrils. He was all the stereotype that she expected to find, complete with the blowgun he was carrying, the very blowgun he had used to fire a dart into her neck, which she now had her fingers on. The realization set in.

“Oh fu–,” Ryan managed before she collapsed.

When she once again opened her eyes, she could tell that her wrists had been bound, and that her arms were splayed out wide so that she looked like she was being crucified. She could see the jungle in front of her and could hear the beat of the drums behind her still. She also realized that she was now dressed much differently. Her curls now fell freely about her neck and shoulders and she was dressed in little more than a silky white nightgown. She would have been embarrassed if she was not also completely terrified.

“Help!” She shouted, hoping that some of the crew or her friends were still alive. She honestly did not expect the response that she got.

“Oh my God, Ryan, you look so adorable in that nightgown! I knew that if you put a little effort into the way you dressed you could set hearts aflame!” Abbie was shouting from somewhere behind her.

Ryan looked over her shoulder as best she could and could see Jack and Abbie sitting atop the wall with a group of natives around them. Neither of them were bound or seemed to be hurt in anyway. In fact, they were sipping from coconuts and generally looked to be having a pleasant time. They were also waving cheerfully at her.

“What the hell is going on?” Ryan shouted up at her so-called friends.

“Oh, that’s simple. As I was talking with a council of the village’s elders, they told me about a ritual in which they sacrifice an alabaster skinned maiden to a hideous beast. They had been planning to use Abbie before I let them in on her little secret. They were quite upset and said that there would be no feast tonight if they could not perform the ceremony. That was when I told them about the cute girl dressed as a cabin boy aboard the ship. Naturally, they were quite pleased and sent an envoy to go and retrieve you. I am a bit surprised that you came along so willingly though, considering how much you complained on our sea voyage.” Jack explained at great length. Ryan’s response was simple, despite the fact that her jaw had dropped during the course of Jack’s explanation.

“I hate you.” She spouted, with the appropriate amount of spite.

The bellowing roar she had heard earlier came once again. Her eardrums reverberated with the intensity of the roar. Treetops began to sway and she could hear the cracking of boughs breaking as well as the sounds of entire trees being pushed over by considerable force. Whatever was moving the trees about was heading straight towards her.

“What is that?”

“Don’t worry! It’s probably just a cloud of black smoke!” Jack yelled down to the struggling girl.

“Really? I heard that it was a cloud of nanobots or the materialization of the island’s consciousness.” Abbie responded.

“No, those theories have already been debunked. All we know for sure is that it is a security system of sorts on the island.”

“I hope you know that both of you officially suck!” Ryan shouted once again, doing her best to struggle against the ropes.

That is when the trees in front of her parted like the Red Sea, and a giant ape stepped out from amongst the trees that were no more than prongs to it. Ryan showed the true capacity of her lungs in the presence of the beast. Her screams echoed all the way back to the Venture. She thought back to the numerous times along the journey that she could have prevented this end. She could have torn up the map as soon as she saw it, or she could have insisted that they take the Minnow instead of the Venture back at the port, or she could have forced them to stay on the ship rather than going to the island. All the possibilities were now moot as huge black and furry hand tore her from her bonds. She was lifted high into the air until she was face to face with the ape.

It was like looking into a mirror again. The face in front of her was not what she expected to see. It was like someone had transplanted her old face, the one she had when she was a man right onto this creature. The way he looked at her made the blood drain from her face. She fainted.

~ by Kacie Cross on May 12, 2008.