Sun Kissed Innsmouth
Part 133
Indecision had always been one of Felecia’s mightiest foils and that night proved no different. From her inability to decide what to do once she reached the cellar, to her unwillingness to commit to a single plan by packing, unpacking, and packing again the things she thought she might need or could use. From her concern over if or how light it still was outside locking her in place for nearly a day to her final decision to shoot the clock instead of the village girl who went off to warn everyone. Suddenly it wasn’t whether to shoot the cowering villager as he pleaded for his miserable life and held his hands up in defense of his flabby, fishy head, it was why was she wasting so much time standing in place and listening to the simpleton chatter away.
Was the fiend dead, incapacitated, had he merely rolled among the thorns and strangling vines of the ground cover and was busy making his way over to her? Were was Phillip’s boy? She didn’t want to kill him, not if she didn’t have to, but he was also shielded in the brambles.
Why aren’t I flat on my belly then? Shuffling along toward the beach head or out to the edge of the meadow and back into the colder, still woods nearby?
Where did the damn intrusive voice go?
Having the damn thing sound so suddenly concerned got inside her head and Felecia considered nearly too late that might have been the monsters motive all along. The rustle was slight and if Felecia hadn’t been so occupied with hearing things that weren’t there, she might not have heard it at all.
Felecia spun around and drew her arrow back to her ear. She came nearly face to face with the youth, Phillip’s boy. There was surprise in that face, but no hate, or even fear. The youth looked tired. Tired of being out there and likely being yelled at by the fiend. Tired of being reminded again and again that he and his Pa were only still around so long as Ganly found the situation useful to him.
The youth did look started though as well, but only for a moment before Felecia’s world went black.
The next thing she could remember was the smoldering remains of the packing crate house. The structure was little more than a pile of ash and still glowing coals. It wasn’t dawn, or even light enough to be the predawn hours but it was close. The moon was already buried behind the trees of the swamp. The back of Felecia’s head felt like fire and she tried to lift her arm to see what was going on back there only to find that she couldn’t move either hand. They were tied together behind her back.
Her bow and her things were all gone, everything was gone. She had been stripped down to her small clothes and only the relative humidity and constant heat of the meadow kept her from shivering. Felecia tried not to panic, or make any noises. Nothing that would draw attention to her. She tried to keep her eyes at half mast and peek around to see more but there was precious little to see. Her poncho, her clothes, her boots, her bow, her water skins, the things she took from the Big House, all of that was gone. She was propped up against something and soon realized it was one of the corral rails, still stuck in the ground from the last time Jacqueline pounded it in with a rock, but only barely, the whole thing was leaning from the recent rain and Felecia’s weight against it.
After a few moments of running her fingers along the corral fence they were greeted by the wet tongue of one of the goats. The poor thing was likely thirsty and trying to get the attention of someone it knew would likely solve the problem. Felecia tried to pet the poor thing, to reassure it, but only managed to disquiet it with her gestures. The goat bleated plaintively and voices sounded out around her.
“We should kill them goats.”
“Naw, we can take ‘em with us. Fall is coming, the village could use the meat.”
“Both of you shut up! Fuck the animals. We didn’t come here for them and they can rot out here for all I care.”
Felecia recognized the voices, especially the last one, and she heard the heavy foot falls that came toward her. She felt the callused hand reach down and cup around her chin. Her face was yanked painfully skyward and her throat was pinched and closed off until she couldn’t help but begin to gasp for breath.
“We came here to kill the old man, but low and behold we found the accomplice too. The old witch’s granddaughter, the little bitch who killed…what, four of us those years ago, five maybe. In cahoots with the one who was murdering us all along.”
“We should take her back to town. Lynch her on the lynching tree for all to see.”
The fiend pulled at Felecia’s neck until she was nearly lifted off the ground and more desperate than ever for air. Ganly drove his fist into Felecia’s left eye and then let her drop on the ground in a pile at his feet. “Lynch. Fuck that! That old witch would come crawling, cane and all out of her wooden box to stop that spectacle. No. We killed the one who was willing us. Job done. This is extra credit. This one dies here. Slow! She pays for all the men who died here tonight.’