Weirdbook 39

HORROR AROUND THE BEND, by Franklyn Searight-3

But if the news was so bad, why had they not been warned to leave?

Ahead of him could be seen the hulking sheds containing the primitive toilet amenities, once used by the farm family living nearby, and now occasionally by the campers. The structures leered out of the shadows like beasts from the Cretaceous Period of a hundred-fifty million years ago, rearing up next to the fence separating the park area from the cemetery.

The woman’s privy had a crescent moon carved into the door near the top to provide light during the day, and for ventilation. Twenty feet away was another shed, a sunburst carved into its door, indicating it was for the use of men. Both of them were about four feet square and seven feet high, constructed of boards long since badly weathered, and gradually rotting away.

Howard, his light shining before him, walked toward the building indicated for females.

“Hey, Karen; you in there?” he called, when near enough to be heard.

There was no response, troubling him more than anything else. If this was where she had come, she must be inside, mustn’t she?

His probing light revealed a handkerchief lying on the ground.

Howard picked up the delicate, lacy cloth of blue. It was definitely a woman’s, he believed, and might belong to his wife, although he did not remember her having one like this, embossed with a monogram.

He called again and, receiving no answer, pushed the door open and entered through the darkly shadowed entrance. Aided by his flashlight, he looked about the gloomy interior. The horrific scene meeting his eyes was at once appalling and terrifying. It was a one-seater with a lid covering the waste pit. Blood, with a brownish caste to it, was splattered over the wooden floor and walls, and a nearby bench, giving the interior the appearance of a slaughter house. Touching it with a finger, he found it dry, and certainly not fresh. There was so much devastation he concluded a large animal had been brought inside and ripped apart.

That was his initial belief until he saw the lacerated body parts lying in a corner. They appeared to have been picked clean, and then tossed there. He wanted to vomit when he saw the severed hand with what might be a wedding band encircling the ring finger. It was the putrid, lacerated remains of what probably had been, in life, a person, likely a woman, and maybe even Karen.

Unable to contain his stupefaction any longer, he made his way to the waste-pit itself. There was little to be seen until he lifted the toilet seat, shone the rays of his light through the rough-hewn opening and saw below a blood-tainted cesspool of body waste and soiled tissues. Further back, almost beyond the searching rays of his light, was a severed leg and a gory torso poking above the rancid sewage, lying there without its head.

The vision screaming at his eyes was so grotesque, searing itself into his brain with such vivid intensity, he could tolerate it no longer. He turned away and rushed outside where he promptly threw up what had not yet been digested of his evening meal.

Howard did not return for a second look in the filthy shaft—one was enough—but moved further away, as the smarting of his eyes subsided and his frayed nostrils no longer quivered. He stood there pondering if what he had seen was real, or a distorted vision of some kind, perhaps a plastic dummy from a clothing store with its limbs pulled apart and its head missing, laying in the icky ooze. But he knew it was no illusion; something was down there, something so revolting his senses tried not to credit the sight of all those body parts, nearly stripped to the bone, lying on the slimy bottom.

A short time later, Howard checked his tent to see if Karen had returned, and then went to his car to retrieve his cell phone. He stood there, his body slightly trembling, as he informed the police of what he had discovered. After giving a detailed description of how to locate him, he was assured someone would be there as soon as possible, but asked to remember it was after one o’clock in the morning and their full contingent of officers was not on duty. An audible yawn, was followed by a thank you, and the call was ended. Perhaps they would come more quickly, Howard thought, if he had mentioned this might be the second body he had recently found for them, but he was still uncertain as to just what it was he had come upon.

He hoped the body was not Karen’s. Gaudy colors of the shredded clothes seen at the bottom of the shaft were not the sort she usually wore, especially not during this particular excursion to the park.

There was certainly trouble of some kind stirring, confirmed by the partially eaten corpse they had seen the day before and the dismembered body parts shoved into the toilet. Nor could he forget the gallons of blood splashed around, making the interior look as though it was a place where pigs were butchered. Yuck! The gruesomeness of the scene was indelibly imprinted on his brain, and would always be there no matter what he did to rid himself of it.

A sleek cruiser slowly made its way down the forested lane, its headlights throwing twin cones of illumination before it, and a broad spotlight on the side lit the vicinity as it swung about in a ninety degree ark, making everything it touched appear to be in daylight. Seconds later, it focused upon him; the car came to a halt, and a short, stocky representative of the law stepped out from behind the wheel, while his partner, a tall willowy man exited from the passenger side.

“You must be Mr. Preston,” he said, shining a flashlight in his direction.

Howard said he was.

“So, there’s been more trouble out here, has there? The dispatcher said something about a toilet pit, pools of blood, and a missing wife. That right?”

“It is.”

Howard led them to a table near the fire pit and invited the men to sit while he stirred the still living embers.

“Tell us a few more of the details, please,” said the smaller man. “Frankly, sounds as though you’ve had an awful nightmare, or you’ve been drinking too much polluted well water, laced with hard liquor.”

Howard smiled grimly. “Precisely what I would think, officer. But neither option is anywhere near the truth.”

He went on, telling more about his discovery, broadening the sketchy account he had already phoned in, apologizing for not having more information to give them, and offering to take them to the site he predicted would curl their toes in horror.

A short time later, Officer Pick, as the stocky policeman identified himself, stood outside the commode, bathed in shadowy gloom, the rays of his flashlight focused on the moon-sign above the door of the woman’s facility. Officer Brent, meanwhile, circled the shed in search of whatever he might find.

“So, just out of curiosity,” Pick asked. “What brought you here? The men’s latrine is over there.”

“I didn’t come here to use the commode,” Howard stated. “I came here looking for my wife, thinking she might be in there.”

“Ah, yes, she was mentioned. If what you say you found is actually in there, I don’t mind saying I’m more than a little spooked. Creepy place, this, with the moon and the shadows and all the trees. I’d rather be home in bed, and come back during the daylight hours.”

“Can’t say as I blame you.”

“This’s something can’t be delayed, though,” Pick said, pushing the door open and shining his light before him. He entered the gloomy structure.

Seconds later, he staggered out and rushed to the nearby edge of the clearing where heaving and retching sounds indicated the officer, also, had lost his late dinner. Pick finally returned, wiping his mouth with his handkerchief,

“Sorry about that,” he said, his face pale and drained. “You warned me, but it’s far worse than what I expected. This will certainly be a crime scene, and I didn’t want to contaminate it any more than it already is.”

“You think…”

“Yes, this entire area must be taped off, if what I think happened actually did.”

While they were talking, Officer Brent joined them for a moment before going into the privy.

“You’ll excuse me while I go back in there and join my partner,” said Pick. “I want another look before I call it in. But don’t worry; I won’t vomit again. There’s nothing left for me to throw up, anyway.”

Pick was right. He was in there for more than five minutes before emerging again, with Brent behind him.

“I’m still unsure of what I saw,” Brent was commenting, “but it sure looked like human body parts to me—like something you’d see in a slasher movie.

“I’ll call the dispatcher, tell her what we found, and wait around until a crew arrives to cordon off the area. I can’t wait until they begin their investigation and I can end my shift somewhere else.

“As for you, Mr. Preston, you might as well go back to your tent and get some sleep, if you can. Hopefully, your wife will turn up soon with a good explanation for her absence. We’ll be searching around for her, though, if she doesn’t. We’ll also be having more questions for you, plenty of ‘em, probably, but we’ll have to wait until we know just what they should be.

“You be sure to let us know if you find your wife, or if she returns on her own.”

“We’ll be in touch,” said Pick.

Howard returned to his tent, and tried to sleep for the remainder of the night, but his slumber was fitful and provided him with little rest. He was up with the dawning light and, before making breakfast for himself, went in search of Karen, roaming the surrounding forested terrain, looking in places where she might have fallen and harmed herself. He punched in his home phone, receiving no answer, and called several of his neighbors back home who might have seen her return to their dwelling. Nothing of significance came of his efforts, and he returned to his canvas lodging in midmorning, discouraged, tired, and more worried than ever.

Howard sat by the fire pit where he had a skillet of bacon strips frying in the hot grease, and two eggs set nearby, ready to be cracked and dropped into the splattering pan. This would ordinarily be Karen’s task, but she had not returned to their air mattress, as he had fervently hoped. The longer her absence dragged on, the more frantic became his mental state. He was reasonably sure the body in the shaft was not hers, but he could not be certain.

From time to time he lifted his head as uniformed officers and men in plain clothes left their cars and paraded down the path back to the commodes. Chief Inspector Randolph, the lead official in the grisly matter whom he remembered from the day before, arrived and made his way to the privy to see what was to be seen.

Howard’s breakfast was barely finished before he was on his way again, continuing his incursions into the more remote parts of the territory in search of his wife. During one of his treks into the woods, he met a young man and his girlfriend out for a hike. He gave them Karen’s description and asked if they had seen her anywhere about, the same question he had asked of a dozen other people he had seen along the way.

They answered in the negative, and then the girlfriend wondered, “Do you suppose it has anything to do with the trouble they’ve been having in the old cemetery?” She looked up to her beau for confirmation.