EDEN
HARBOR
By
Daniel Skye
Trouble always stems from living in a small town. The
main dilemma is that your life, your business, personal or otherwise, is on
display for the world to see. It’s not that everyone means to pry or be nosy.
They just can’t help but witness the drama that unfolds. And others can’t wait
to share these spectacles with others.
These people that surround you are your friends and
neighbors; they’re your colleagues and co-workers. As most people do, they
often judge you or gossip behind your back. And if you’re anything like them,
you promptly return the favor in their absence.
All small towns are the same at heart. Everyone wears a
smile, even when it’s just for show. Because you wouldn’t want to lead people
to believe something is amiss. You wouldn’t want to give the gossipers a few
extra rounds of ammunition. So you wear that plastic smile daily, grinning from
ear-to-ear like some mindless jack-o’-lantern.
Tyler
Reese never had to deal with the discomfort of small town life. He was born and
raised in the big city. He grew up surrounded by towers and skyscrapers that gave
the impression that they extended to the clouds above. He spent his life
encompassed by packed highways and congested freeways.
Reese became accustomed to the sounds
of car horns blaring, ambulance sirens wailing, strangers exchanging vulgar
obscenities out on the streets. This was background noise to him. What he hated
most was absolute silence. That’s when he knew real trouble was brewing.
To a man
like Reese, small towns just mean less work for him. Reese was a member of the
census bureau. When people neglect to fill out and return their census forms, it’s
his duty to track them down and obtain those documents.
That
particular day, his assignment was Eden Harbor; a sleepy little town in the
center of Long Island. A place that Tyler had no sincere desire to be…and for
good reason.
Ten years
ago–when Tyler was still attending high school–it was Bobby Sudrow who made the
trek to Eden Harbor. The bureau never heard from him again.
The
early morning fog crept in from the bay, slowly enveloping the roads. Tyler
drove at his own leisure; one hand on the wheel of his rental car, the other
hand gripping his morning caffeine fix. The coffee was boiling hot and singed
his tongue with every sip. But it was also the only thing keeping his eyes
focused on the hazy road. Tyler was not, and would never be, a morning person.
The
car the bureau had reserved for Reese was a 2007 silver Honda Accord. The
interior was worn and beaten. The upholstery riddled with cigarette burns and
beverage stains. But the Honda still had that “new car” smell that Reese found
nauseating.
So he
drove with the windows down, and listened to the radio to keep his mind
occupied and chase the silence away. He tried his best not to think about Bobby
Sudrow.
Bobby
Sudrow was a nice guy by all accounts. A family man. Everything he did, he did
for his wife and two daughters. Every penny he saved went to his daughters
college funds. Every free moment he had, he spent with his family.
Bobby
enjoyed attending baseball and hockey games, knocking back a few beers with his
buddies, playing racquetball at the gym, watching a good action movie packed
with explosions and car chases. But he sacrificed all those little pleasures to
spend more time with his family. That’s what put a smile on Bobby’s face. And
it was no plastic smile he sported. It was the real deal.
His
last assignment for the census bureau was Eden Harbor. According to the
reports, he never made it. His red Camry was found abandoned in the town of
Dorchester, some two hundred miles away from Eden Harbor. The police search
turned up nil. They couldn’t find a shred of evidence that proved Bobby Sudrow
ever existed. Even his insurance card was removed from the glove box. The
interior of the Camry had been wiped clean with the skill and patience of a
professional, and not a single useful fingerprint or trace of DNA was
discovered.
The
joke among colleagues is that trepidation of visiting small towns alone is
commonly referred to as Sudrow Syndrome.
It was
eight o’clock when Reese pulled into the only gas station in town. At least
that’s what the hand-painted sign strung above the gas pumps claimed.
As
Reese stepped out of the car, he heard the bells tolling in the distance. An
ominous, unsettling ring that sounded similar to church bells. But Reese, a
devout Catholic, was taught to identify the chime, and these weren’t church
bells clanking.
A man
stepped out from the mechanics garage, his hands caked in oil and black
residue. Around his long neck was a faux-gold chain connected to a diamond
shaped locket, which for all Reese knew was stolen. It seemed out of place
amongst his oil stained jumpsuit and canvas shoes.
“What
can I do for you?” the man asked, wiping his greasy hands with a yellow cloth.
“You
can start by filling me up,” Reese said. “And if you’re familiar with the area,
you can give me directions to the Henderson’s place.”
The
man cackled offensively; a loud, boisterous laugh that made Tyler’s ears sore.
“In the golden age of technology, who stops to ask for directions?”
“Someone
who’s too cheap to splurge for a GPS,” Reese replied. “Now you know where it
is?”
“What
do you want with that old dump?"
“The
name’s Tyler Reese. I’m with the census bureau. The Henderson’s never returned
their census forms, so the bureau sent me.”
“They
sent you all the way here for that?”
“We’re
very thorough.”
The
man fingered his diamond locket with one hand and brushed the other through his
wavy brown hair. Avoiding eye contact, he motioned down the road with his head.
“Half
a mile down the road if you’re heading east,” the man said, opening the gas
tank. He unscrewed the cap and jammed the nozzle into the tank. Then he started
fueling. “It’s an old cedar house, with green mold caked on the sides. Their
front yard is littered with pink flamingos and gaudy patio furniture. It looks
like a trailer park.”
“So
you’re saying it’s hard to miss?” Reese joked, if only to quiet his screaming
nerves. There was something disconcerting about this man’s demeanor, about the
way he spoke and the way he seemed to almost be eyeing Reese up.
“I’d
be surprised if you passed it by without looking twice.”
Reese
glared to the east. It was then he noticed the green smoke. He couldn’t
pinpoint the exact location. It was rising up through a series of tall
evergreens.
“What’s
your name?” Reese inquired.
“Alexis,”
the attendant responded. “But everyone calls me Lex.”
“Well,
Lex, you mind if I ask you what’s the deal with that?” He motioned to the green
smoke filtering to the sky from an unseen chimney or smoke stack.
“Oh,
that,” Lex started, as if he was accustomed to this routine. He continued to avoid
eye contact. “That’s the Forbidden Zone.”
“The
Forbidden Zone?” Reese repeated, almost mockingly.
“Yeah,
you might want to steer clear of that whole area.”
“Why’s
that?”
“No one can trespass there. It’s been
forbidden by the local authorities ever since the incident.”
“The
incident?” Reese mumbled, taken aback.
“Your
tanks full,” Lex said, disregarding his bewilderment. “That’ll be sixty
dollars.”
Reese
paid his debt and got in his car in a hurry. Lex watched as Tyler drove off,
heading east toward the old Henderson place. If Lex’s intention was to stir
Reese, mission accomplished.
Reese
drove from the station with two words ricocheting around in his head. Sudrow Syndrome. If there was such a
thing, Tyler had a serious case.
As the
fog began to clear up, Reese passed the harbor and noticed all the boats
remained tied down in their spaces. The docks were deserted on such an ideal
fishing day. And all local stores and businesses that followed the harbor were
seemingly abandoned. CLOSED signs were visible in the windows of every
storefront.
The
green smoke continued to curl up from the invisible chimney and ascend to the
clouds above.
Five
minutes down the road, Reese found what he was looking for. It was just as Lex
described it. Pink flamingos and purple longue chairs strewn about the lawn. There
was a mailbox in the shape of a miniature Harley motorcycle. A bird feeder made
out of a beer can. He was staring at a white trash portrait with a pulse. On
the front porch sat a rotting pumpkin that was attended by a gathering of buzzing
flies, probably a leftover from last year’s Halloween.
The
door was slightly ajar, so Reese nudged it forward and peeked inside. A pungent
odor from inside the house floored Reese, gagging him like a punch to the
throat. He took a deep breath and entered, holding the collar of his white
T-shirt over his nose to stifle the unbearable stench.
“Mr.
Henderson?” he called out. “Mrs. Henderson? Anybody?”
The
smell grew overpowering as he moved past the foyer and started down the narrow
hallway that connected to the kitchen and living room.
In the
kitchen, Reese saw a man slumped over at the Formica table. The back wall was
stained with blood that had coagulated and dried to a hard red crust. As he
moved through the kitchen, still pinching his shirt collar over his nose, he
spotted the entry wound below the man’s forehead. A single shell casing rested
near his feet, alongside fragments of skull and clumps of grey matter. Reese
flinched when he felt the cold metallic sting of a gun barrel being jabbed into
the nape of his neck.
“I’ve
been waiting for you, Mr. Reese,” a voice said. Reese felt the steam of their
breath on his ear. The man’s thumb cocked back the hammer of the gun. Reese
didn’t see it, but he heard the unmistakable click. “Mr. Henderson’s been
waiting too. Three days now. I apologize for the smell, but you do get used to
it after a day or two.”
“Who
are you and how do you know about me?”
“You’re
from the census bureau, right? Henderson never filled out his form, so they
would send somebody down here. You were the next offering.”
“Is
this whole town backwards, or is it just a handful of you?” Reese couldn’t help
but ask.
“Listen
carefully. What I’m about to tell you might seem ludicrous, but it will save
your life. I have no intentions of harming you.”
“Hard
to believe when you’ve got a gun jammed in my neck.”
The
man drew his gun back and released Tyler from his grip. He spun around and
locked eyes with Frank Cornell, a man not much older than himself. An average
looking fellow with light blonde hair. The only unusual thing about him was the
absence of the middle and index finger on his left hand. Frank wiggled his nubs
in the air, acknowledging his missing digits.
“A
little chemistry accident,” Frank admitted, almost embarrassed to do so. “They
couldn’t reattach them.”
“That’s
the last question I had on my mind at this moment. You better explain this from
the beginning. And try to make sense."
They
moved from the kitchen to the living room at Reese’s request. He couldn’t
endure the sight or smell of Henderson’s body any longer. Cornell cracked a
window open to air the place out a bit and suggested Tyler have a seat on the
plaid sofa. He wasn’t sure Tyler’s knees would be able to absorb the shock of
what he was about to convey.
“Eden
Harbor is controlled by the Minions, servants who worship and appease something
beyond natural description. This thing appeared many years ago, back when I was
just a kid.
It
appeared from a smoking crater in the town junkyard. I’d like to believe it
fell from space. Or who knows, maybe it rose up from the depths of hell. But
that’s not what the Minions chose to believe.
They
thought it was a gift from above. They believed it was sent here to guard us
and protect us. To shield us from outside evils, and to bring us good fortune.
And they assumed it wouldn’t leave its place of origin so long as we appeased
it from time to time. Truth be told, it hasn’t.”
“When
you say appease, you mean–”
“I’m
referring to human sacrifice,” Cornell answered before Reese could finish the
question.
Reese
felt as though he had been assaulted. It was too much information to digest.
“What is this thing you refer to?”
“It’s
an abomination. That’s the best way I can paint you a picture of it.”
“How
many people know about this?”
“Everyone
in town knows about it.”
“Then
why don’t you just leave town? Pack up your shit and bail.”
“That’s
why I can’t leave town. Everyone knows. The Minions won’t give anyone the
chance to spill their guts to the world. They watch the roads constantly. Those
that have tried to flee never make it past the gas station. Did you hear the
bells? See the green smoke? They knew the second you pulled in to town.”
“What
was the green smoke really about?”
“The
bells and smoke are how the Minions notify the townspeople that a new sacrifice
has arrived or been chosen. To create the smoke, potassium chlorate is added to
a fire. It’s this white crystalline substance. I should know, I showed them how
to do it. And regrettably, that’s not all I showed them. It’s probably the only
reason they’ve spared me.”
Reese
let out a long, exasperated sigh. “Say I honestly believe you, what can be
done?”
“You
can help me destroy it. Without it, they’re powerless. We can blow the thing
back to hell and then we’ll be free.”
“We
could do that. Or I could get in my car, turn around and get the hell out of
here.”
“They’ll
never let you escape. They’ll hand-feed you to this beast. If you don’t believe
me, try it. See how far you get. Think of it as a game. You can even time
yourself.”
Reese
weighed the options. He didn’t seem to have many. He knew what Frank was saying
could, on some level, be true. He felt an odd presence the instant he arrived.
Lex seemed to be eyeing him up at the gas station. Maybe he was being watched.
“This
is going to be a long day,” Reese sighed. “The bureau better be paying me
overtime for this shit.”
* * *
“I’ve
spent three years cooped up in this house,” Frank shared. Reese had driven
Frank back to his one-story house with his rental car. Not like he had much of
a choice. Frank had a gun, he did not. “I’ve been waiting for the Minions to
come knocking one day and sacrifice me to their false deity.”
“If
this thing is how you describe it, how do you intend to kill it? It doesn’t
sound the least bit human. It’s not like shooting someone in the head.”
“I
said we were going to blow this thing to hell. It wasn’t a figure of speech. Gather
around and I’ll teach the shit they don’t dare show you in chemistry class.”
“What
are we making?”
“Fulminated
mercury,” Frank said. “Used in a wide variety of explosives.”
“To
create fulminated mercury,” Frank explained, “we need to dissolve mercury in a
boiling flask.”
Frank
walked him through the process step by step, which took a total of three hours.
When
it hardened, it formed a transparent, crystal-like structure. Fulminated
mercury, as Frank knew, is extremely delicate to friction and shock. A slight
jolt can easily set it off. The radius of the explosion depends on the quantity
of fulminated mercury.
For
this occasion, Frank made three pounds worth. Enough to demolish a shopping
mall.
They
waited for nightfall. The fulminated mercury was secured in the bed of Frank’s
blue pickup. Reese climbed into the passenger seat. Moment of truth, he thought. Either
this guy is a crackpot or he’s telling the truth. Let’s hope he’s a crackpot.
Frank
drove at a constant speed of thirty miles per hour. He didn’t want to draw
attention to himself, and didn’t want to speed because of the delicate
explosives in back.
Reese
kept his eyes peeled for any looming dangers on the road. But every so often
his eyes would inadvertently drift to the pistol jammed in Frank’s waistband. If this is all bullshit, Tyler thought, you better hope you can wrestle that gun
away from him.
“Pothole!”
Reese exclaimed before Frank jerked the wheel to avoid the huge dip in the
road.
“That
was a close one,” Frank sighed. Moments later, Frank veered to the right and
stopped in front of a gate that was chained and padlocked. The chain-link fence
was eight feet high and reinforced with razor-sharp barbed wire at the top.
“What’s
this?”
“A
shortcut,” Frank said. “Welcome to the origin of the green smoke. This is the
junkyard, where they stash the cars of their sacrifices. There’s a shack with a
small chimney attached. You met the guy from the gas station?”
“Lex?”
“This
is his place.”
They
exited the truck and Frank gingerly slid the box of mercury from the back. He
gave Tyler a flashlight to lead the way. He rested the box on the ground and
pulled out a set of keys. He unlocked the gate and pushed the chain-link doors
open.
“Should
I ask why you have the key?”
“Many
people do. This is a place of worship to them. And like I said, I showed Lex
that little trick with the green smoke. Membership has its privileges I guess."
Frank
picked up the box and they moved quietly through the junkyard. Police cruisers
and BMWs were buried under UPS trucks and dismantled eighteen-wheelers.
“Do
all the vehicles get dumped here?”
“Not
all of them,” Frank answered. “Some get dropped out of town, so we don’t raise
suspicion. How many people can disappear in one small town before everyone else
takes notice?”
More
and more, Tyler was starting to think Frank was being sincere. You hear about cults all over the world,
Tyler thought. It’s not that far-fetched
to believe the whole town has been coerced into worshipping a false idol. Is it
possible that some terrible, unspeakable secret is hidden in the center of this
heap?
“How
far do we go?”
“You’ll
know when we’re there,” Frank assured him.
A red
mist spurted across his face as the back of Frank’s head exploded with a single
deafening blast. The box tumbled to the ground and Tyler gasped, squeezing his
eyes closed. He expected the blast to throw him a good two hundred feet from
the area. But the mercury had endured the damage of the fall and had not been
triggered.
Then
came what Tyler feared the most. Absolute silence.
Bobby Sudrow. Bobby Sudrow. The name flashed through
his mind repeatedly. Unarmed and unable to detect where the shot came from,
Tyler was helpless…until he remembered Frank’s gun tucked in his waistband.
Flashlight in hand, he made a move.
“Don’t
even think about it,” a familiar voice shouted and Tyler froze at their call.
Reese
heard the crunching of fallen leaves underfoot, a chain jangling around
someone’s neck. As the shadowy figure took form, the diamond shaped locket around
their neck came into focus.
Lex
marched from the darkness, rifle in hand. He approached Reese, opening the
locket for him to see a young woman with curly dark hair. She looked to be
anywhere from twenty to twenty-five.
“My
wife, Natasha,” Lex said. He snapped the locket shut callously. “We all have to
make sacrifices here. I want you to meet someone. He was a man who understood
sacrifice. The sacrifices he made for his family alone proved that. And so we embraced
him as one of our own.”
“Hello,
Tyler,” a voice called from the darkness. Reese shined his light on a man who
looked twice his age. His hair was snow white and thin, his skin pale and
weathered. He looked closer to death than Tyler did. But there was something
vaguely familiar about him. He had seen this man’s picture before.
Bobby Sudrow.
“No,”
Tyler shook his head in defiance. “It can’t be you. You disappeared ten years
ago.”
“I
didn’t disappear,” Sudrow explained. “I started a new life, with a new family.
This is where I belong. I wish you could stick around to experience the utopia
we’ve built for ourselves.”
“I’d
probably overstay my welcome,” Reese quipped. Even in the face of imminent
danger, his dry humor seemed to ease the tension, if only for him.
“No more
chitchat,” Lex shouted, still grasping the rifle. “This has gone on long
enough.”
The
townspeople, torches in hand, flocked in droves. It was a scene straight out of
the original Frankenstein. There were men, women, and they all had their
children at their sides. Their eyes all told the same story: Let’s just get this over with. This
sadistic mob formed a ring around him, trapping him in the center.
From
this wreckage, something had emerged. It appeared as a small blotch at first,
like a stain on the sidewalk. But this seemingly inanimate blob was growing
bigger as it moved towards them. When it reached the outer circle of the mob,
its shadow eclipsed the glowing beam of the torches. It was as Frank Cornell
had described it, truly an abomination.
The
townspeople broke the circle to open a path to Reese. One of the townsfolk grew
startled just at the sight of this beast and dropped their torch in the dirt.
It was
unlike anything he had ever laid eyes on. It was a creature devoid of any
normal human qualities. Its long, dense, oval-shaped torso had grey and
lifeless texture, like that of a slug. No nose or ears were visible amongst the
glowing torches. It had no legs and took to moving like a snake, slithering
along on its ample belly. Wherever it moved, it left a trail of slime in its
path.
Its
mouth was comprised of two hideous rows of jagged fangs that could snap through
a parking meter. Three red glowing eyes the size of baseballs rested upon what
Tyler only assumed was its forehead. Its backside was curved, taking the shape
of a monstrous barbed stinger.
Bobby
Sudrow extended his arms in welcome. “Please accept this sacrifice we have
presented you here today. We hope this will satisfy you and satisfy those that
have blessed us with your presence.”
Tyler
had fallen to his knees, accepting his twisted face. His eyes were aimed steady
at the ground, as he did not wish to see it devour him. And so he missed it
when the creature curled back his stinger and pierced through Bobby Sudrow’s
chest.
The
townspeople gasped, moaned. Some screamed. Its stinger retracted and continued
to move at a lightning pace, tearing a gaping hole in the flesh of anyone that
stood in its way.
Tyler
looked soon enough to see it wrap its teeth around a dying Bobby Sudrow. It
snapped him in two, bisecting the waist from the torso and then swallowing the
top half in one motion.
The
fire of the fallen torch was starting to grow from the dry leaves spread about
the dirt, forming a straight path to the box that Frank had released.
The
explosion wasn’t quite what Tyler imagined, but it was enough to send the
townspeople–those that survived the blast–scattering like cockroaches for their
homes. And it wasn’t enough to stop this beast from its rampage. The explosion
didn’t seem to slow it down, or even leave a mark on it.
The
rifle that Lex had been toting was mere inches away. It was still attached to
his right arm that had been severed from the blast. He rolled through the dirt,
his legs brushing past the orange flames.
He
literally had to pry it from Lex’s cold dead fingers. When the rifle was in his
hands, the creature was already too close for comfort. Its three red eyes were
staring him right in the face.
You couldn’t
call it a change of a heart, because inside that grotesque mass, Tyler
shuddered at the thought of a beating heart resting amongst its entrails. It
showed its true colors when it had ravaged a town that had been so rewarding to
it. This…abomination as only it could be aptly described, it didn’t have a
heart. That’s what Reese chose to believe. However, it did spare his life that
evening. Perhaps so he could live to tell its tale. Or perhaps it was just full
at the moment.
Changing
its direction, it crawled its way through the fiery wreckage. It was seemingly
impervious to the fire around it, the flames barely scorching its exterior. It
slithered through the gates, past the Forbidden Zone. It had escaped from its
point of origin, and anything in its path would undoubtedly feel its wrath.
The bureau has their work cut out for them,
Tyler thought. The population of Long
Island is about to be drastically altered.
