Tanner
“You want a hand with that, boss?”
I glance up from the section of wall I’m measuring in the kitchen and smile thinly at Jose. “Nah, I’ve got it,” I tell him. “Thanks though.”
“If you’re sure.” The foreman shrugs. His eyes flicker to the window and the setting sun beyond. “Do you at least want some company? Being alone in this place in the dark would give me the creeps.”
“I’ll be fine,” I assure Jose with confidence that I don’t quite feel. In truth, I would rather not be here at all, let alone after nightfall, but the contract is on the line. I can’t afford for Jack to come up for a surprise visit and find the kitchen wall still scratched up. He’d probably fire me on the spot.
The foreman doesn’t seem quite convinced, but still he turns to leave. “Just call me if shit gets weird,” he throws over his shoulder. “See ya on Monday!”
“Later,” I toss back.
I lean against the wall and listen as Jose bustles out of the house, crunches across the gravel driveway, and gets in his truck. Soon enough, the door slams, the engine starts, and he rolls down the driveway into the descending gloom of the evening.
Anxiety prickles over my skin as the growl of his vehicle fades into the distance. I’m acutely aware that I’m alone here in this building, festering on the edge of the swamp.
But am I really the only one out here?
Yesterday’s excursion into the marsh surfaces unbidden to the forefront of my thoughts. I can recall the horrible figure perfectly, down to its treacherous smile and the way its nimble hand waved, beckoning me deeper in the mire.
I shrieked like a little girl and booked it back to my clients as quickly as I could. Julia’s eyes were wide with fear, but Jack scoffed at me for getting startled by an animal in the swamp.
An animal. A gator, actually. That’s what I told them I’d seen. It sounded better than telling them I encountered a ghost or demon out among the sinking tombstones.
Jack laughed his ass off, and I feigned embarrassment at my unmanly behavior, but I could tell that his wife suspected I was lying, though she simply pursed her lips and remained silent. Soon after, they left without further incident, and I hightailed it out of there as soon as I could.
Now I’m back, and this time there’s nobody to run to.
Thoroughly unnerved, I decide I won’t just sit here in silence. I drag the heavy radio over from the sitting room and set it up on the kitchen counter, turning it to a local country station. I crank up the volume loud enough to drown out the burgeoning chatter of insects and the groan of the cypress trees swaying in the evening breeze, the soundtrack of the swamp.
Not wanting to have to stay any longer than necessary, I pick up my studfinder and get to work. First, I mark the areas where I need to stay away from with a pencil. The next thing I do is grab the pry bar and leverage the molding away from the bottom of the wall, revealing the seam between the floor and the sheetrock.
Now I’m ready for the fun part. Drywall removal is dusty work. I’ve already prepped the room by laying drop cloths on the floor and counters. All I have to do is find my respirator and I’ll be able to start knocking down this wall so I can respace the studs.
I swear I had left it on the counter when I had come in this morning, but the covered surface is completely barren. One of the other guys must have thought it was theirs, I figure. It’s not a big deal. I’ll check in with the crew on Monday to make sure I get it back, but in the meantime, I know I have an extra in my truck.
The thought of going outside to retrieve it makes me pause.
My mind skitters back to the figure in the swamp. There’s no way I’m going out there, alone and defenseless, with that thing running around in the dark.
I consider the situation for a second before grabbing a hammer from my toolkit. It’s not exactly a gun, but it’ll do.
Hefting the makeshift weapon in my hand, I weave my way out of the house. I hesitate for a moment at the threshold, my eyes scanning the empty driveway. Nothing looks amiss. The night is alive with the normal sounds of the swamp now that I can hear them clearly over the distant blare of the radio.
“Hello?” I call into the darkness.
To my immense relief, there’s no response.
I draw in a deep breath, steeling myself, and then step out into the night.
Gravel crunches beneath my feet. The sound is deafening against the relative stillness of the swamp. I cringe with each step as I pick my way over to my truck, which is thankfully only a few feet away down the driveway.
As I approach the vehicle, I weigh my options. What if I just got in the truck and went home? I could come back on Monday and finish the kitchen amidst the bustle of my crew.
Coward.
The thought slithers across my brain and down my spine.
I don’t want to prove it right.
Pushing any ideas of retreating away, I fumble with my keys, ultimately managing to unlock the truck’s back door with shaking hands. I’m pretty sure the respirator is somewhere in the cramped bench seat. Bailey’s always telling me to get my stuff organized back there, and I’m kicking myself now that I haven’t listened to her suggestion sooner. I feel more and more on edge as I paw through my equipment until finally my hand closes around the mask of the respirator.
“Thank god,” I sigh in relief.
I straighten up, pulling the respirator with me, and slam the door of the truck closed. After locking it, I turn to head back into the house.
And then I freeze.
Somebody is standing in the doorway, silhouetted by the light spilling out from the hallway.
Fear and rage cascade through me, shoving away any hope for rational thought. A frenzied roar escapes my throat as I throw the respirator down and brandish the hammer, barreling forward toward the intruder.
The figure doesn’t budge.
When I’m only a few inches from it, I swing the hammer with all the force I can muster.
The head of the weapon catches the light as it arcs through the air and comes down to hit…
Nothing.
There’s absolutely nothing there.
Momentum propels me forward, and I stagger into the hallway, reeling until I can catch my balance again.
I stand there for a moment, listening for any sign of the intruder. I see nothing out of the ordinary, but the hairs on my arms and the back of my neck prickle as though there are eyes boring into me.
“Show yourself, you bastard!” I bellow. My voice ricochets through the empty building, and that’s when I realize that the radio is no longer playing.
Adrenaline surges through my veins as I storm toward the kitchen. I burst into the room, expecting another trick.
But the thing that leans idly against the damaged wall is no mirage.
It’s the same figure from the swamp. It looks exactly as I remember, as though it had stepped straight from my thoughts and into the bright light of the kitchen.
I stand in the doorway, my eyes fixed on its unwavering gaze. It smiles to reveal a set of crooked, pointed teeth.
“Good evening,” it says, tipping its head slightly. Its voice is like the rustle of leaves in the underbrush. Nothing normal sounds like that. Nothing alive.
“Who are you?” I demand. Fear betrays the acid in my voice as I tighten my grip around the hammer.
The thing’s smile widens. “I’ve gone by many names over the years,” it lilts in that horrible reedy voice. “But you can call me Amos.”
“What are you?” I snarl.
Grinning, it replies, “I’m the swamp, and everything in it. I’m the thunder and the sunshine and everything in between. Always have been, always will be.”
“What do you want with me?” I’m stuck between terror and disbelief. This can’t be real, and yet my senses tell me that it is. I’m not dreaming. I’m very much awake.
“You?” Amos lets out something that might be a laugh. I fight the urge to slap my hands over my ears at the sound. “It’s not you I want,” it croons, taking a step toward me. Every muscle in my body is tense and straining, but I don’t back down.
“Then what?”
Amos cocks its head, sizing me up. Finally it answers, “This land is mine. I’ve been here for a very long time. All who pass through or settle here have fed me over the years, nourishing me with their pain and desire. I was strong, so strong, and then…the flames!” Its voice rises to a shrill wail as it doubles over, clutching at itself with spidery fingers. “I’m so hungry! So hungry!”
Every inch of me trembles. My fight or flight instinct is gone. I am frozen in place, unable to escape from the nightmare unraveling in front of me.
In a sudden flurry of movement, the thing snaps upright again, its face once again placid. Its eyes, matte black and empty, wheedle into mine. “I’ll give you anything you desire,” Amos murmurs in a sugary tone. “Fame, money, power– it can all be yours. All I ask is one thing in return.” Pale hands stretch out to me in a supplicating gesture, the fingertips so close they almost brush my chest.
When I find the will to speak, all I can muster is a horrified whisper. “What? What do you want?”
It grins again. “The girl.”
Horror tears through me as I realize it’s talking about Bailey. It’s enough to shatter me from my stupor.
“Never!” I growl. I toss myself forward, once again swinging the hammer into the air. This time, I’ll make sure not to miss.
Fingers, somehow both hot and freezing at the same time, close around my wrist, jerking my arm back. I yelp in pain as my shoulder joint wrenches in the socket. At the same time, the thing catches me around the throat with the other hand, squeezing cruelly as it raises me into the air as if I weigh nothing. My dangling feet scramble to find purchase on the ground, but my boots only swing uselessly in the air.
“It’ll have to be the hard way then,” Amos drawls, eyes locked on mine.
In spite of the fingers digging into my neck and the palm crushing my windpipe, I manage to croak out, “Go to hell!”
Amos leans forward until our noses are almost touching. Rancid breath fans across my face as the thing smiles.
“Don’t worry,” Amos hisses. “You’re about to.”