Somewhere in South Carolina
The weather people were calling it a Thousand Year Rain Event, but that didn’t mean much to Cliff Bonsaint. The storm that was currently drowning a huge portion of the east coast was nearly identical to the deluge of 2015. That one had been labeled as a Thousand Year Event too.
“Guess they made a mistake,” Cliff muttered as he watched the raindrops chase each other down the cracked window glass.
Devin Carlyle, Cliff’s best friend and partner in crime, stirred under his ratty blanket on the splintered attic floorboards. “Who?” he grunted. “Who made a mistake?”
“The weather people.” Cliff turned away from the window and nudged Devin with the toe of his sneaker. “Get up. We gotta get moving.”
Devin huffed and yawned and sat up halfway. “Did it flood downstairs last night?”
“Nope. We’re still dry. It was a good idea to come up here, though. You know, just in case.”
“Why don’t we just stay here until it quits raining, then? I really doubt they’re looking for us.” Devin wrapped his blanket around his shoulders and pillowed his head on his back pack again.
Cliff mulled this over. Between his own mother’s drug use and Devin’s dad’s penchant for hookers and booze, it was doubtful their parents even realized they’d run away yet. The roof of the old farmhouse still had some good spots, so they were relatively dry. Even if the bottom floors flooded and stranded them in the attic, they had enough food with them to last a few days.
Sometimes Cliff resented Devin’s superior intelligence, but not today. He was right; they were better off staying where they were. Besides, they were both still a little groggy from their last smoking session. “Okay,” he said. “We’ll stay.”
“Mmmhm,” Devin grunted, closing his eyes.
Cliff turned back to the window and watched the sheets of gray rain falling relentlessly from clouds the color of a week-old bruise. The old house groaned and trembled under a fresh onslaught of wind. The sound had scared the hell out of him last night, but he would never admit it. The wind screeched again, finding its way through the cracks in the weather-beaten boards and bringing in a green, unpleasant odor.
With the tail of his shirt, he scrubbed a clean spot on the filthy window so he could get a better look at their surroundings. From his vantage point on the third floor, he had a pretty good view of the edge of town. A couple hundred yards away, the white-painted spire of a church rose from a lake of flood water. The roofs of two cars made small, strange islands in the wind-whipped deluge.
Just beyond the church was an open spot surrounded by drowning cypress trees. The wings and upper body of a marble angel jutted from the rising water. Next to that was the top part of a cross and the roof of a granite crypt. A muddy, white, box-like object floated serenely atop the trash-littered water. A boat? Wait…was that a coffin?
Without taking his eyes from the window, Cliff extended his arm towards his drowsy friend and made a “gimme” motion with his fingers. “Hand me them binocs,” he said. “I think I see something cool.”
Devin sat up again, a little livelier at the prospect of something cool to see. He took a pair of battered field binoculars—purloined from his father—from a pocket in his back pack, and handed them over. “What is it?” he asked, getting to his feet. “What do you see?”
Cliff trained the binoculars on the object floating in the flooded cemetery. It was a coffin! “There’s a graveyard down there,” he said, “and there’s a coffin floating in the water!”
“No way!” Devin snatched the binoculars away and nudged his friend aside. A slow grin spread across the lower half of his face as he studied the gruesome scene below. “That is bad-ass! The same thing happened where I used to live a few years ago. There were coffins everywhere! People had to put sand bags on ‘em to keep ‘em from floating down the street!”
“Gross!” Cliff’s response was more enthusiastic than disgusted, and he grabbed the binoculars away so he could take another look. “Did the bodies come out and stink everything up?”
“Yeah, some did. Everybody was freaking out about the embalming chemicals leaking out, too. It was so freakin’ sick, dude!”
Just as Cliff was about to reply, another coffin erupted from the flooded cemetery with a ghastly whoosh that both boys clearly heard over the racket of the rain. It listed to its starboard side, floating like a macabre lifeboat taking on water.
“Sweet!” Cliff voiced his approval in a single word while Devin scrabbled for possession of the binoculars.
Devin’s grin grew wider as he worked the focus wheel and zoomed in on the waterlogged coffin. His face had lost its drowsy look; his cheeks flushed with excitement. “Hey, you know what we should do? Let’s smoke the rest of the wombie and go down there and watch those things pop up! It’ll be awesome!”
Cliff tried on an enthusiastic expression, but he was a bit hesitant at the mention of the wombie, a strange new version of synthetic marijuana. Devin had stolen a small amount from his older brother, and Cliff had tried it for the first time last night, once they were safely hidden away in the attic. While he had enjoyed the initial feeling of euphoria the strange herbal blend had produced, the vivid hallucinations that followed were intense, almost frightening.
“What if we get caught?” Cliff asked. “I mean, yeah, it sounds like an awesome idea, but what if—”
“Get caught doing what?” Devin lowered the binoculars and quirked an eyebrow. “We’re just gonna watch the coffins pop up out of the ground. It’s not illegal to just look at something. Don’t be a sissy.”
Once again, Devin was right.
“Okay,” Cliff said with a nod. “Let’s do this shit! Hell yes! This is gonna be so sick!”
He wished he actually felt the enthusiasm he tried to portray and hoped was convincing. Watching from an attic window while coffins breached in coffee-colored flood water was one thing, but having a ring-side seat to the event was quite another. Still, though, he was no sissy.
Devin put the binoculars down and rummaged through his back pack for his pipe, lighter, and a prescription bottle containing a small amount of a green and brown leafy substance. “There’s just enough left for one more good high,” he said as he packed the wombie into the bowl of the pipe. He handed it to Cliff with a flourish. “You first.”
Wordlessly, they passed the pipe back and forth until only ash remained, then waited a few minutes for the wombie to take full effect. Devin scanned the surrounding area with his binoculars, grinning and chuckling at things known only to him.
“I love this shit,” Devin said. “We definitely gotta get some more somehow.” He shoved the binoculars into his back pack and zipped his jacket. “The coast is clear out there. Nobody’s around. You ready?”
Cliff turned his attention away from the colorful, wombie-induced sparkles that danced along the cobwebby ceiling. He nodded in agreement. The movement…tickled somehow. His head felt like a giant sunflower, bobbing on its stem.
The stairs squeaked and squalled and sent up puffs of vintage dust as they made their way down. To Cliff, it sounded like the singing of geriatric fairies and he laughed out loud at the thought. When they stepped out into the storm, the raindrops became crystal beads that floated gracefully to the ground. They flashed rainbow colors in the light of an invisible sun.
When they made it to the edge of the flooded cemetery, they stood side by side in the crystalline rain, eagerly awaiting the next coffin to come bursting up out of the ground. The storm-generated body of water appeared to be several feet deep, and was surrounded by debris and broken-off tree branches. Cliff was vaguely aware of the muddy water seeping into his shoes, but compared to the spectacle in front of them, it was hardly worth mentioning.
“Just think,” Devin was saying in a low, ominous voice, “just think how gross it would be if some dead dude floated up out of his coffin and started dissolving and shit!” He sputtered out goofy laughter and nudged Cliff in the ribs. “It would be like…like…cemetery soup!”
It was the most hilarious thing Cliff had ever heard. He laughed until he was sure his gut would rupture. “Cemetery soup!” he cried, wiping his streaming eyes on the sleeve of his jacket. “That’s too much, bro! That’s just too much! I—”
Something moved just under the surface of the water. Cliff ceased his lunatic laughter and stared hard at the slight wake made by the unknown object. What was that? An animal? A fish? A loud splash over by the marble angel made him gasp, and Cliff caught sight of a ragged, human shaped figure just as it dove out of sight.
He regretted smoking the wombie now. Never again. Not when it made him hallucinate like this. “Dev,” he said, fighting to keep the quiver out of his voice, “I think I’m freakin’ out or something. Did you see—”
“Look!” Devin interrupted him with a slap to the arm. He pointed a finger at spot directly in front of them. The mirth had slipped from his face, and his blue eyes were huge and round. “I think another one’s coming up!”
Bubbles rose and burst on the rain-pocked surface of the flooded cemetery. Then, in a macabre fountain of mud, muck, and filthy water, the end of a coffin erupted from the waterlogged earth. Cliff stumbled backwards and fell on his ass, hard enough to make his teeth rattle.
Devin pumped his fist towards the fuming sky and whooped his approval. “Look at it, Cliff! Look at it, bro! Hell, yeah!” He looked half-mad with delight.
Cliff, sitting at the edge of the cemetery-turned-lake, with mud and water soaking into his pants, was suddenly a little afraid of his friend. He got to his feet. This wasn’t fun anymore. Fear and apprehension tightened his throat. “Dude, maybe we should just go back,” he said, trying to ignore the high-pitched ringing in his ears. “I don’t think this is a good idea. Somebody’s watching us, over there, by the angel.”
It was as if Devin hadn’t even heard him. He pointed again, his face almost comically excited now. “Oh shit! Look! The lid’s open! I see the body!”
Cliff looked. The coffin’s lid—either from its time spend underground or its trip to the surface—had been partially wrenched from its hinges and hung askew. A horrid odor emanated from the opening. He leaned forward to look inside, disobeying the part of his mind that begged him not to.
He caught a glimpse of an arm, encased in the moldering sleeve of a suit jacket. A bony, withered hand protruded from the cuff. A gold ring with a large stone encircled the twig-like index finger.
“That’s a diamond!” Devin was fairly breathless with awe. “A big, freakin’ diamond!”
He spun around and took hold of Cliff’s upper arms in a grasp that was almost painful. “We should take it—hell, we need it! We could sell it for wombie money…”
“No!” Cliff shook his head, sending droplets of rain flying from his shaggy hair. “Are you crazy? That’s stealing! And besides, I don’t want any more of that damn stuff. It’s making me feel sick.”
Devin’s wombie scented breath wafted over Cliff’s cheeks. “Don’t be a butt hole,” Devin said. “The dude’s dead, for cryin’ out loud. He don’t need that ring, but we sure do!”
“We can make money doing other stuff, mowing lawns or something. Dude, didn’t you hear me? Someone’s watching us! I saw someone over by that angel.”
Devin’s glazed eyes scanned the area. “Where? I don’t see anyone.”
“In the water…” Cliff stammered. “The person…whoever it was…went under the water. And I saw something swimming…”
“Someone’s swimming? In a flooded graveyard during a massive storm?” Devin’s smirk softened, and he patted Cliff’s shoulder. “Do you know how ridiculous that sounds? There’s nobody here but us. You’re just not used to the wombie, that’s all. You’re just trippin’ out.”
“Okay…” Cliff said reluctantly, and he managed to smile a little as he thought of someone snorkeling in the murky cemetery flood. Devin was right. Once again, that fucker was right; it was ridiculous. “But can we just go back to the house now? I don’t feel so good.”
“You bet. We’ll go back, and I’ll share my can of fruit cocktail with you—just as soon as I grab that ring.”
And with that, Devin turned, stepped nimbly over an exposed tree root, and waded into the water. Cliff could only watch as his friend headed for the dubious treasure in the partially submerged coffin.
The water was almost waist-deep around the coffin. Devin took hold of the brass handle on the end and tugged on it, trying to bring it closer to him. The movement released a hideous cloud of stink from the silk-lined interior. Cliff gagged. Surely Devin wasn’t really going to do this.
Another splash, louder this time, came from the direction of the angel. That vaguely human shape again, sinking below the wind-whipped flood water. The crystal bead raindrops still fell, winking and glimmering and throwing back brilliant rainbows in the light of an unseen sun.
I’m freaking out. Cliff rubbed his eyes, roughly, trying desperately to restore normal vision. I’m freaking out, that’s all. It’s not real. Nothing’s over there.
“Jesus, this guy freakin’ reeks!” Devin remarked as he reached into the coffin. “Hang on. I almost got it—OH!”
He fell sideways and went under. Cliff caught just a glimpse of his shocked, open-mouthed expression before he disappeared.
“Shit! Dev!” Cliff waded in up to his knees. His addled mind fumbled for an explanation. Did he slip? Did a sink hole open up and swallow him? Was it the swimming thing? Did the swimming thing get him?
Devin surfaced seconds later, coughing, gagging, and covered in muck. “Fuck!” he sputtered, wiping frantically at his face. “I slipped or something…ugh! Nasty! Slippery…almost felt like something grabbed me…”
Cliff’s relief was so huge that it almost buckled his knees. “Shit, you scared me! Hurry up! Let’s get outta here!”
“Yeah, hang on. Just let me get—”
Devin went under again, violently, like he had been yanked. One of his arms waved and flailed, beating the water into a froth as he tried to escape from whatever had a hold of him. He surfaced again, and Cliff screamed in abject horror when he saw what had pulled Devin down.
The thing that held his friend in its bony grasp had no business being alive. Strips of soggy flesh hung from its ruined face. Mud ran in trickles from empty eye sockets. The lipless mouth gaped in a silent laugh. Still clutching its struggling prey, the living corpse retreated beneath the churned-up water. A furious stream of bubbles rose and burst. Then there were only ripples.
He struggled to run through the knee-deep water, panting, gasping, and trying to tell himself that it was only a drug-induced hallucination. Devin was just messing with him, trying to scare him, that was all. Slippery mud squelched underfoot. One of his sneakers came off. He heard the splash and paddle of something swimming behind him.
Just as he was about to step out of the water, his foot caught on the tree root, and he fell face first into the wet, debris-strewn grass. He lurched forward on his hands and knees, his damp hair in his face, and sobs caught in his throat. His foot was stuck fast; several hard yanks were ineffective. Cliff wrenched himself around to free it.
It wasn’t the tree root. A hand clutched his ankle. A withered, bony hand. A ring with a large stone graced the forefinger. The hand tightened its grip. Cliff felt himself being dragged backwards, back into the water.
It’s just Devin, that’s all. You’re seeing things. It’s not real, it’s really not…
When the cold water hit his skin, he threw his head back and screamed into the falling crystal beads.
***
That evening, just as the sun was dropping in the sky behind its ragged veil of clouds, the rain finally stopped. Two men in Public Works uniforms stood at the edge of the flooded cemetery, looking down at two tarp-covered figures on the ground.
“How long do you suppose it’ll take for the coroner to get here?” one man asked the other. He brought a cigarette to his lips with a trembling hand and offered the pack to his partner with the other.
“Don’t know. Not long, I hope. I’m freezing my ass off. I should’ve put my waders on before I pulled the kid out of the water.” The wind caught the edge of the tarp, lifted it. Hurriedly, he stepped down on it and held it in place with his boot. The last thing he wanted to see was that kid’s face again. The bulging, sightless eyes, the chunks of missing flesh—almost like bite marks.
“What do you suppose got at his face like that? Stray dog, maybe?”
“Hard to tell. The M.E. will figure it out. Not a mark on the other kid, though. Funny thing. Like he just got his foot caught in that branch and died. Drugs, probably.”
At the far end of the cemetery, near a partially submerged marble angel, something hit the water with a splash.
