Cannibal Jack, page 1
CANNIBAL JACK
By Patricia Lee Macomber
A Macabre Ink Production
Macabre Ink is an imprint of Crossroad Press
Digital Edition published by Crossroad Press
Smashwords edition published at Smashwords by Crossroad Press
Crossroad Press digital edition 2024
Copyright © 2024 Patricia Lee Macomber
ISBN: ePub Digital Edition: 978-1-63789-062-2
ISBN: Trade Paperback Edition: 978-1-63789-058-5
LICENSE NOTES
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Meet the Author
Patricia Lee Macomber is the former editor-in-chief of an award-winning magazine. She has been published in Cemetery Dance magazine and such anthologies as Shadows Over Baker Street, Little Red Riding Hood In the Big Bad City, and Dark Arts. Currently, she lives in North Carolina with her husband, David, and their twelve cats.
Book List
Ameri-Scares Hawai’i: Legend of the Night Marchers
An Unkindness of Ravens - with David Niall Wilson
Cannibal Jack
Casual Casualties
Intermusings - with David Niall Wilson
Love Lost
Stargate Atlantis - SGA-15 - BRIMSTONE - with David Niall Wilson
Zombie - A Love Story
The Star Quest Series
Star Quest: The Journey Begins
Star Quest: All That Remains
The Jason Callahan Mysteries
Book 1: Murder, Sometimes
Book 2: Dead, Sometimes
Book 3: Scarlet, Sometimes
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Table of Contents
* * *
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Epilogue
Chapter One
1993
Jake leaned against the wall, one dirty sneaker propped up against the stained stucco, his left thumb hooked into the pocket of his jeans. In that hand, he held a cigarette. With the other, he tossed a flashlight up and down.
“I can’t see anything,” Dewey yelped, skittering across the damp ground to peek in first one window and then the other.
“It’s too dark.” Mark cupped his hand to a filthy window and tried to pierce the darkness.
“What are we going to do? We gotta get this picture. We came out here to see this thing and we gotta get the picture.” Frank knelt beside his friends and stared alternately at the backs of their heads.
“If you babies will quit spazzing, I’ll tell you what we’re gonna do.” Jake, ever the cool, collected one, took one last drag of his cigarette and tossed it away. He shoved off from the wall, flashlight gripped firmly in one hand, and stepped to the nearest window.
All eyes were on him, three pairs of innocent globes looking askance from their great leader.
Jake planted his sneakers firmly on the wet ground and swung the flashlight back a good three feet from the window. By the time the others realized what was going to happen, the glass was already shattered, and Jake had stepped back.
“Shit, Jake! The whole town had to hear that!” Mark sat back on his haunches and slammed his fist into his thigh.
“So fucking what? Just another accident in the bad part of town.”
“Jesus!” Frank sucked air and cocked his head in the direction of the upstairs window.
“Now, here’s what we’re gonna do.” Jake fished another cigarette out of his pocket and patted himself down in search of the lighter. The others gathered around him, waiting for the revelation. “Who’s the smallest one of you?”
“Oh no!” Dewey’s sneakers bit into the ground on the first step, skidded through muck thereafter as Jake grabbed his collar and hauled him backward.
“You’re the only one who’ll fit through the window, Dewey.”
Dewey’s voice rose an octave and tripled in volume. “I ain’t going in there! He’ll freaking eat me!”
“You’re the only one small enough to pull it off.” Jake straightened his back and flipped the cigarette between his lips. “Besides, you’re the one with the camera.”
Dewey tried to pass the camera off to Frank, but Frank dodged backward and to his left, hands waving in the air.
“Okay, now, here’s how it’s gonna play. Me and Mark’ll grab onto your ankles and scoot you inside. Just enough that the flash will do you some good. Up to your waist, ya know?”
“No way!” Dewey shook hard, vibrating Jake’s arm with the fury of it.
“We’ll hold onto you, don’t worry. And you’ll snap the picture, then we’ll haul you back out. Simple as that.”
“No fucking way!” Dewey leaned back, putting up as much resistance as he dared. Under other circumstances, Jake would play the part of the bully, shoving Dewey into a locker or shaking him upside down to rob him of his lunch money. For the moment, Jake needed Dewey.
“Don’t ya wanna be famous, Dewey? Think of it.” Jake shoved the cigarette behind his ear and splayed his hand across the air in front of Dewey’s face. “For the rest of your life, you’ll be known as the kid who snapped the picture of Cannibal Jack. Everybody in school will worship at your feet.”
Dewey stared directly into Jake’s eyes, a dire mistake on any other day. For the moment, he was mesmerized by the thought of being famous.
“Come on, man! Think about it. By the time you get ready to go out with chicks, they’ll fall at your feet.”
Dewey nodded in spite of himself. “Swear to God you won’t drop me.”
“I swear.” Jake crossed his heart and shot a fervent glance at Mark, who nodded in concert.
“Okay. But you better hold on to me tight.”
“No prob!” Jake walked over to the broken window and sank to his knees. “Come on, Dewey. Let’s get to it.”
If Jake was the brave one, Mark was the wise one. For some reason, his face had gone pale, and his feet refused to obey his orders. Jake waved him over, teeth bared and eyes staring daggers through him.
Dewey followed their lead reluctantly, his knees already shaking harder than he thought possible. He checked Mark’s face before kneeling. He trusted Mark. They had been friends since they were in kindergarten and Dewey knew for sure that Mark would never do anything to put him in danger. Dewey was wrong.
“Mark, you get his right. I got his left.” Jake locked both hands around Dewey’s left ankle and nodded.
“Gotcha.” Mark grabbed Dewey’s right ankle, watching Jake’s face as he braced himself.
“Remember, Dewey, you gotta get a good clear shot. No blurry tabloid bullshit, okay?”
“Got it.” Dewey sank to his belly and hauled himself toward the broken cellar window slowly, the camera in one hand and his lower lip caught between his teeth. Already, the dew had soaked his shirt and sweat had soaked his collar. “Shine the light over in the corner first.”
His head disappeared into the cellar. Mark’s eyes darted first to the window above and then to Jake. Jake nodded his approval. Or was it an order? Either way, Mark wasn’t about to let go of Dewey’s ankle.
“I think I saw something move over there by the shelves.” All they could see of Dewey was his legs. For a small kid, he had good muscle tone. His waist rested on the windowsill, but his upper body was suspended straight out from there.
“Hurry up. I don’t wanna get busted.” Frank’s hands twisted nervo
“Hang on. I gotta charge the flash.” A high-pitched beep broke the silence. “Okay, something in here just moved. Hang on.”
Mark felt Dewey’s leg begin to shake. “Hurry up.” His stomach was filled with barbed wire and his pulse pounded in his head. He took a moment to visually check the upstairs window, where he knew old man Dawson to sleep. Then he licked his lips and returned his attention to Dewey.
“Shit! He’s in there. He’s fucking real, man!” Every muscle in Dewey’s body stiffened and the camera swung up and around to target…something.
“Take the picture, Dewey. Snap it quick and we’ll haul you up.”
“Just a sec, okay? Shit! The flash ain’t charged yet.” Dewey wriggled on the ground as he fiddled with the camera. “It’s him for sure. Holy shit! He’s coming this way.”
“Wait till he just gets up close, Dewey. We want a really good, clear picture.” Jake smiled at Mark and something in that smile made Mark’s blood run cold.
“Jesus! You should see this guy.” Dewey struggled against their grip, his legs flailing, knees banging against the ground. “Let me up, you, guys.”
“Snap the picture, Dewey man.” Jake tightened his grip and shoved Dewey forward.
“Hey! Watch it, man! You almost dropped me.”
Jake’s voice grew louder; he licked his lips, almost hungry. “Hurry up and take the picture, you dork. Take a good one or I’ll shove your stupid ass in.”
“Shit man! Haul me out!” Dewey thrashed about. Mark nearly lost his grip, then managed to get a better purchase. “Shit! He’s almost to me.”
“Take the fucking picture! Take the fucking picture!” Jake shook him, his eyes wild and his chest heaving.
Mark looked at Jake from the corner of his eye, disturbed by the near ecstatic expression on Jake’s face. “Maybe we should just pull him out.”
“No way! I didn’t risk getting my ass busted just so we could leave without the picture.” Jake laughed. “Take the picture, you pussy.”
The flash went off. Dewey’s body lay still for a moment, then he half-rolled onto his right side. “Jesus! You should see the teeth on this mother.” Dewey laughed and then the flash went off again.
Frank’s head shot up. He had been staring in through the next window over, hand cupped to the filmy glass and eyes wild. “He ain’t just kidding. That fucker’s got teeth that don’t quit!”
“You got the picture, Dew-man?” Jake shook his leg just so Dewey knew he meant business. “You got a good picture?”
“I got it! I got it, man! Now haul me the hell up!”
Mark pulled first, his mind made up. Jake followed suit and Dewey’s body slid free of the window, his belly dragging along the ground and hauling his shirt up.
Jake stood and reached out one hand, his face a study in maliciousness. “Good job, little dude. Now, gimme the film so’s I can go have it developed.”
Dewey blinked at him, stricken. “If I open the camera now, it’ll ruin the film. I have to wait till I expose all the film.”
“Well, then, click away. Take pictures of my ass if you want to. But be done with it and hand over that film.” Jake’s hand shot out.
Dewey checked the older boy’s expression. His lips were pale and his eyes darted about uncontrollably. Suddenly, Mark felt bad for him.
Dewey’s finger hovered over the button, pressing down suddenly and repeatedly.
Jake lit another cigarette, watching the procedure as though he were a surgeon studying a new technique. He exhaled a long plume of smoke and winked at Mark.
“Atta boy!” Jake exclaimed as he took the roll of film from Dewey. “This is what’s gonna make you famous, boy.” He tossed the film into the air and caught it in the same hand, plunging it deep into his pocket as he spun.
Mark followed, leaning in close as if to ask a question. Frank was behind them, all eyes and ears as he searched Jake’s pocket in search of that reputation-guaranteeing cigarette.
Dewey screamed.
The sound was loud and shrill, and it made all three boys spin in their tracks.
Dewey’s belly hit the ground and all Mark could see was eyes. Dewey hit the ground belly-first, hands splayed out across the ground and mouth wide open.
“Holy fuck!” Jake tossed the stogey and made a mad dash for Dewey’s wrists.
Mark dove to the ground with a grunt, fingers locking around Dewey’s arm and his eyes locked on that broken window. A loud shriek broke the stillness, followed by the most feral growl Mark had ever heard.
“Jesus Fucking Christ!” Jake exclaimed, his heels digging into the ground and his arm muscles straining.
Dewey let loose the most wretched, agonized screech Mark had ever heard. And then he was gone.
Both boys sank back in the damp dirt, eyes locking onto each other and holding tight. Over their heads, the lights came on in the window.
“Fuck!” Jake hissed, the first one to flee the scene of the crime.
Mark and Frank followed, their sneakers digging up clots of wet dirt as they ran for the woods behind the house.
They ran hard and fast, the thick air burning their lungs as they crashed into the dense brush at the edge of the woods. They ran all the way to the big tree near the brook, falling in near unison onto the ground beneath it.
“Nobody says nothing,” Jake spat between gasping breaths. “We were never here. We ain’t seen each other since school let out on Friday.”
Frank and Mark nodded in unison. Mark fought his desperate need for more air and tried to speak. “What…about…?”
“…Dewey!” Frank coughed, his eyes wild.
“We have to help Dewey. He’s in there. With that cannibal thing.” Mark’s eyes locked onto Jake’s and refused to let go.
“You wanna go to jail? Huh? Do you?” Jake checked both of their expressions in turn. “I didn’t think so. Now, nobody utters a word about this…ever. As for this….” He held out his open hand, revealing the roll of film. “I toss this in the fire when I get home and the whole thing dies forever. We were never here. The first one of you wimps to utter a word dies a painful death. You got that?”
Mark and Frank locked gazes, their eyes sinking to the ground in shame. They nodded their compliance.
“All right. Now, everybody go home and pretend like you’ve been in bed.”
Jake shoved the film into his back pocket and darted away through the brush.
Frank and Mark remained a moment longer, too afraid to speak. Then they drifted off toward home, hands shoved deep inside pockets and consciences silenced.
Yanked backward by the grip on his ankles, Dewey did a belly flop onto the concrete of the basement floor. The camera, which still hung around his neck, snapped and shattered against his chest. He barely managed to get his hands out enough to prevent his face from being smashed.
It drove all the air out of his lungs.
For a few seconds he just lay there, unable to discern whether the monster still gripped his ankles or whether it was merely phantom hands that held him. His senses returned slowly, more slowly than his ability to move.
Out of instinct, he flipped himself over and crab-crawled backward until his back hit some large piece of furniture. He hugged his legs to his chest and gasped for air, shaking as though he might actually fly apart.
In the dark corner, not ten feet from him, a pair of eyes glowed menacingly.
“Please don’t eat me,” Dewey squeaked.
He was answered with an unintelligible grunt.
Dewey shook his head and blinked. All at once, he realized three things: First, that he was bruised from head to toe from where he had struck concrete. Second, that there were footsteps pounding the floor over his head. And third, that the pair of eyes was slowly moving toward him.
The basement was lit by nothing more than a small square of lamplight that crept through the broken window. Dewey glanced frantically around, desperate for an escape or, barring that, a weapon he could use against the beast.
The monster in the corner made another sound, this more of a growl.
Dewey felt his bladder release and tears stream down his face. In panicked desperation, he launched from the floor and made a bid for the window. He was able to grasp hold of the frame and haul himself up a bit, broken glass and splinters be damned. But then something grabbed onto his ankles and before he could react, he hit the concrete floor again.
