Chapter Nine

Jeremy Lund’s Story:

The worst year of my life was when I was twelve. My mother died when her car hydroplaned on I-65 somewhere between Birmingham and Montgomery in heavy rain from the remnants of a late season hurricane. She slid into a truck which lost control and tangled the two of them into a fiery crash. She died instantly. The truck driver survived with only a broken collarbone.

When it happened, I was playing basketball after school with some kids. One of the other moms ran into the gym and pulled me aside. I couldn’t understand what she was saying for the longest time. Gradually, bits and pieces sank in, and when the overall scope of the news hit me, I just fell to the gym floor. I remember just lying there thinking, What am I going to do?

A social worker tried to locate my father, but I knew without any facts that he was dead. We hadn’t heard from him in over three years, and in terms of overall importance in my life, he scored a big zero. He showed up once when I was five, and there were cards with a couple of bucks in them for two birthdays. That was all I ever saw of my old man. Turned out I was right, they discovered the shithead died in a bar fight somewhere in Texas. The social worker was concerned I would be further traumatized with this news, so she broke it to me gently. I assured her I barely knew the jerk, so it was no great loss to me. It truly wasn’t.

If they wanted devastating impact, my mom’s death certainly qualified. She would never light the world on fire, but she was pretty stable in my life. She kept the books for an auto dealership in town, she rode me hard when it came to homework, and she attended games when she could. Now she was gone.

I spent November and December bouncing around some different foster families, and some of those people were crazy. Not just the other foster kids either. You know what was the worst? I don’t even remember Christmas or Thanksgiving that year. I do remember crying a lot, and I guess I was depressed. Right before school started after Christmas break, my social worker contacted me.

“Your aunt is willing to take you.”

“My aunt?” I knew I had one in South Carolina, my father’s sister, but I never met her. My mom hardly ever talked about her, but when she did she always called her “that psycho”.

The social worker said my aunt was thrilled to take me, but I didn’t believe her. I got the feeling she wanted to get rid of me. Still, there I was, just a few days later on a bus to South Carolina. I arrived late in the afternoon in Charleston, nervous as hell.

I walked into the bus station not knowing what was going to happen. When my aunt did appear, she certainly wasn’t what I expected.

“You must be Jeremy.” She was a tall woman who seemed younger than my mother. She had bleached blond hair, with about an inch of dark roots showing. You know how you get certain things in your mind that you can’t shake? For me it was a faint mustache that I spotted on her upper lip. It looked as though it had been bleached like her hair.

“You must be Aunt Leanne.” I was afraid we’d have this tearful meeting, but I didn’t have to worry. She wasn’t the tearful, hugging type. Instead she sort of scrutinized me to the point I felt uncomfortable.

“You do look a bit like Roscoe.”

“Roscoe?”

“Your deadbeat father and my deadbeat bother.”

“I thought his name was Louis.”

“It was. We just called him Roscoe. We started calling him that after our dog with that name died.”

So, I learned my father was named after a dead dog.

“Sorry about your mother, kid. Let’s get your stuff and get out of here.”

The ride to the house was about an hour. As she pulled up to the driveway, she said, “Cam is excited to meet you.”

“Who’s Cam?”

“Didn’t they tell you? He’s your cousin. He’s older, fifteen.”

Well, that was something. I started thinking maybe this wouldn’t be so bad with another kid. The house was a rundown looking ranch house. Really, though, none of the houses in the neighborhood were kept up. Paint was peeling, litter, tons of cars parked all over the place. That kind of thing.

I had to lug two suitcases down to a guest room at the end of the hall. The room was kind of ratty, with a bed, chest of drawers, and a closet. I was putting clothes into the chest when I realized this teenager was standing in the doorway. I figured this had to be Cam. He was tall like his mother, but he was soft. Like the type of kid who just sits in front of a computer all day.

I made the first step, going, “hey.”

Cam didn’t say anything, but just continued to stare.

I felt really stupid because I didn’t know what to do. “You’re Cam, right? I’m Jeremy.” I held out my hand to Cam. “Your cousin.”

Cam didn’t move, and just when I was going to drop my hand, Cam lifted his. I shook it, but it was disgusting. The hand seemed wet and cold and he had no grip. The kid didn’t know how to shake hands.

Finally, Cam spoke to me. “Do you like girls?”

I wasn’t sure I heard correctly. “What?”

“Do you think my mom is pretty?”

I was getting confused.

“Do you want to have sex with her?”

Okay, now I was genuinely freaked out. “What? No. God, no.”

“Bastard.” Cam turned and walked away. I couldn’t tell if he was mad because I looked like I wanted to sleep with his mother or didn’t want to sleep with her.

Dinner that first night was pretty normal. We talked about things like TV and computer games and foods we liked, so I felt a little better. When my aunt wasn’t around, Cam would look at me really strange, like he was leering. It felt creepy and dirty.

When I went to bed, I don’t remember if I cried or not, but at the very least I must have felt like it. My birthday was coming up, and that was bumming me out. I also couldn’t imagine spending six more years with these people.

I had no way of knowing at the time I would only be with them for a few more days.

* * * *

I spent my fist day in South Carolina avoiding my aunt and cousin. I borrowed a bike from the garage and went into town. I explored every inch of the place—parks, the downtown, main street…you name it. I found a shopping mall and went to a movie.

When I returned, my aunt was rather pissed.

“Where’ve you been all day?”

I told her.

“Why didn’t you spend time with Cam?”

How do you answer something like this, that I thought her kid was a walking freak show? I went the white lie route. “I just needed to spend time by myself.”

I remember how she smirked when I said that. I knew then and there that Cam told her what he had said to me the night before. Either that or she just knew–like one of those telepathy things. The fact that she wasn’t disturbed by it really creeped me out.

Right as we were finishing dinner that night, the doorbell rang. My aunt asked me to answer the door.

There was this older guy in a uniform standing on the front porch. The way he reacted, I could tell he wasn’t expecting me.

The guy said, “I’m Sheriff Hagerton. Who’re you, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Jeremy Lund.”

“Well, Jeremy, are you visiting?”

“No, sir. I live here now. With my aunt and cousin. My mother died.”

The sheriff seemed genuinely upset. It made me feel good for some reason. “I’m sorry to hear that son. When did you get in?”

“Yesterday.”

I think I asked him to come inside and then he asked if my aunt was at home.

“Yes, sir, I’ll get her.”

“Before you do, tell me, where are you from?”

“Alabama.”

“So, a southern boy all the way around.”

“Yes, sir.”

By this time, my aunt showed up at the door and she was really put out.

“What do you want?” Really kind of rude, and then she turned to me. “Go to your room now, and shut the door. This is private.”

I went to my room, but left the door ajar. I was trying to eavesdrop, I admit it. I heard the sheriff mention something about missing kids. My aunt got really pissed, saying Cam had nothing to do with it.

When I heard this, I thought, holy crap.

The sheriff asked if he could speak to Cam, but my aunt told him to go to hell.

“You’re raising your nephew now.”

“My brother’s boy. What of it?”

“He’s going to school?”

“Yeah, he’s going–seventh grade. Damn social workers…”

“Good. I’d like to talk to him.”

“What part of ‘go to hell’ don’t you understand?”

“It’s about basketball, Leanne. You and Cam can join us if you like.”

Then she told the sheriff to fuck off, and yelled for me.

Of course, I knew the sheriff wanted to talk to me, but I had to play it as if I had no idea. So I stuck my head out the bedroom. “Yeah?”

“Get over here. The sheriff wants to talk.”

I was a little nervous to talk to the guy. I wasn’t a screw up at my old home, but I had gotten into a little trouble. So I didn’t like talking to cops. Turns out, I didn’t need to worry.

“Come here for a second, Jeremy.” The sheriff opened the door and stepped to the porch. I followed in my socks.

“Do you play basketball?”

I remember thinking, whoa, and getting excited. “Yeah, I love basketball.”

The sheriff nodded. “I coach the seventh grade boys’ team.”

“You coach basketball?”

He had a sense of humor. “Yes, I coach. Is that a surprise?”

I didn’t know how to respond. You know how it is when adults ask you rhetorical questions.

“I coached both of my boys. They’re in the army now, but I still keep coaching. Do you want to play?”

“Definitely.”

“Perfect. Right after school, in the gym.”

“I’ll be there.”

What happened next is forever sealed in my memory. The sheriff started walking to his car but then he stopped. He had taken out one of his business cards and was writing something on it. “This is my address and home phone number.” He handed the card to me. “Son, if anything strange happens here–and I do mean ‘strange’–I want you to come and talk to me.”

Later that night the creepy stuff really started happening. I took a shower before going to bed. When I got back to my room, I was trying to decide what to wear in the morning. You know, it was the first day at a new school, and I was pretty anxious. I didn’t want to wear the wrong thing. Then I remembered I needed shorts and a T-shirt for basketball.

So I was gathering up all of this stuff, and the whole thing couldn’t have taken very long. Of course, for a girl it would take a lot longer, but for a boy, simple. Meanwhile, I was just starting to get dressed for bed and I realized that somebody was watching me. I just knew it. I noticed the door was cracked about two inches. To this day, I know I closed that door. No one was in the hallway when I stepped out, but I sensed Cam’s door had just clicked. That piece of shit had been spying on me.

* * * *

The first day of school was not as bad as I expected. I didn’t have any of the books yet, so I didn’t have to do any homework.

What was really cool was that the kids were okay. I fully expected to get beaten up or harassed like they do to new kids, but they were really curious about me. It turned out the school was rather small, so everyone knew everyone’s business. Of course, that meant me as well. They all knew my story, which was a little weird, but at least I didn’t have to keep telling it over and over again. Everyone also knew I played basketball, so that more than anything probably made the transition easy.

I remember that first lunch period. This kid named Parker waved me over to his lunch table. Other kids joined, both boys and girls, and the table became full quickly.

“So, you live with that weird kid,” Parker said.

“Yeah. Do you know him?” There was no sense denying Cam was weird.

I discovered only that morning that Cam was home-schooled when it dawned on me that I was the only one leaving for school. I met his tutor on his way into the house as I was leaving…some college guy looking for extra cash, probably. Frankly, I was relieved. That also meant that no one really “knew” him.

“He’s got a reputation,” one of the girls said.

I started getting really worried that I was going to get the same reputation based on association.

Somebody else said, “He peeps in kids’ windows.”

Now, that I had direct experience with.

Wendy, she was Parker’s girlfriend, added, “There’s this girl in the ninth grade. She says she woke up and saw him staring right through an open window. There was only a screen on it. She swears his eyes were red.”

“He touches kids too,” Parker said. “I mean… you know.” He pointed to his crotch. “Boys and girls.”

The other kids cracked up. “God, Parker. Just say he’s a pervert.”

“I heard he set fire to a trailer once.”

Anyway, it went on and on. I was very relieved to hear they weren’t including me in the same category as Cam.

If the first school day was good, my first practice after school was even better. I remember the sheriff greeted me with a sincere, “So, how are things going?”

He was a hard coach. He made us go through all kinds of drills, but I loved every minute. I felt normal being there, and I really liked the guy.

When I returned to the house, my aunt announced, “Good Lord, you stink,” as I walked through the door. “Take your shower now before dinner.”

I wanted to argue, but I couldn’t figure on what grounds without saying I was worried about Cam. That creep was watching from the hall, and I remember him smirking as I passed. I had the last laugh however. I brought a fresh change of clothes into the bathroom, which had a lock. So I could change in safety.

That night, things got even worse. I woke up from a sound sleep at 1:15 in the morning. It was a really strange sensation, like someone was trying to warn me, but in a helpful way. I felt as though I was being pulled up urgently from the ocean floor. Anyway, I awoke disoriented, and I didn’t know where I was. When everything started to come together, I really started to freak out.

Something was in my room.

There was this slithering along the floor. It was something big, and it was moving along the floor beside my bed.

I tried to look, but I was really scared. Suddenly, the thing stood up on hind legs.

I thought it was Cam. It seemed like it at first. Of course, the room was too dark to be sure. Then I was having my doubts. The hands were claws, and the eyes were a deep red.

The thing dropped down to all fours on the floor, and I tried to sit up higher and look over the bed.

Next thing I knew, I was face to face with it. The thing propped its hands or, God I don’t know, front claws, onto the bed like a dog. Do you know what I mean?

I fell back into the bed. I saw then that, yeah, it was Cam, but man, he had transformed. He wasn’t…human.

This thing throws the bed covers off me. I panicked. Then, the claws latched on to me.

Now, of course, I am absolutely terrified. I started to scream, “No, no” and I twisted to turn on a lamp by my bed. When I did that, I felt the claws scrape my skin.

The lamp turned on…

I sensed something bolt from the room, but it was so fast… I was alone in the room.

I started talking to myself out loud, “It was a dream.” Still, I stood up and looked around the floor. Naturally, there was nothing there.

I remember I got back in bed and turned off the light. I was afraid I was going to lose my mind before I turned eighteen and could get out of there.

When I awoke the next morning, I felt like hell. I had no idea how much I slept, but I figured it couldn’t have been good sleep. Dragging myself to a sitting position took every ounce of effort I had.

I took off my undershirt and reached for my jeans and began to pull them on. What I saw almost knocked me over. I had to close my eyes to stop my head from spinning.

There were three scratch marks on the skin right here, on my lower right abdomen.

My mind started racing. You felt those claws scratch you when you turned away to turn on the light.

Somehow I got the courage to pull the waist band of my boxers away from my skin, and then pull downward. The scratches extended an inch or two further towards my hip.

At this moment, the sheriff’s words came back to me— “Son, if anything strange happens here–and I do mean ‘strange’–I want you to come and talk to me”.

I finished getting dressed, grabbed everything I needed for school, and got the hell out of the house as fast as I could. Cam’s tutor was arriving again as I was leaving, but I must have looked panicked because he asked me if I was okay. I remember mumbling something like, “yeah sure”, but this guy must have felt obligated to make small talk. He started telling me how much he appreciated the opportunity to work with Cam, which I thought was weird because who could ever enjoy being around that sleaze bag. I just kept walking and telling him how I was late. I didn’t want to hang around for any longer than I had to for anyone.

* * * *

Somehow, I made it through that school day. Maybe it was relatively easy because I felt safe. Looking back on it, I remain impressed at how well I was able to hold it together. I don’t think anyone noticed I was a wreck.

I was going to talk to the sheriff after practice. I had only been in that house for three days and I had enough of all the weird shit that was going on.

When I arrived at the gym, I was devastated. There was some other guy doing the coaching. My expression said it all, because this guy came over to me right away.

“You seem disappointed. We haven’t met.”

“What? Oh, no. Not really. I was just expecting to see the sheriff.”

It turned out this was the assistant coach, one of the dads. He filled in whenever the sheriff couldn’t make it due to some emergency. Just my luck something happened that day which kept him tied up at the office.

“Hey Dad.” I turned to see Parker walking up. “This is Jeremy, the new guy.”

I was really pleased to meet Parker’s father. Parker ended up becoming one of my closest friends, and his dad was a great guy. He just couldn’t address my immediate problem.

Parker’s dad ended up bringing me home with Parker for a snack after practice. I think he must’ve had some kind of parent sixth sense operating and knew I really didn’t want to go home right away. Anyway, this is another one of those memories that remain crystal clear. The weather was pretty warm, so we ate chocolate chip cookies outside on the porch in our gym stuff. I shared for the first time how I hated living with my aunt. I didn’t go into the creepy details, but confided I was having trouble hitting it off with my cousin. I was so happy when Parker said I could come over anytime, and even sleep over whenever I wanted.

I must’ve stayed for about an hour at Parker’s. When I got back to the house, I found it quiet.

“Hey, it’s me,” I called as I walked in the door and dropped my backpack. I took off my sneakers and dirty socks at the door, an old habit instilled by my mother. I wondered where Cam and my aunt were. Almost immediately, I heard a faint sound from outside in the back yard. A window was open because of the pleasant evening, that’s how I think I heard it.

Only the living room and kitchen lights were on, and I worked my way towards the kitchen. If you can picture this, the garage was detached and away from the house. So, from the kitchen, I could look outside and see the entire garage. The door was shut, but I saw lights on inside through the windows.

That’s when I noticed my aunt and Cam. They were beside the garage in the shadows. It was starting to get dark, but still light enough to see. To the casual observer, it would look like they were preparing a garden. I knew they weren’t the gardening types, so I was curious what was going on. Internal alarm bells were going off, and I was torn between staying inside and going outside. Curiosity got the better of me, but I inched my way out the back door as quietly as I could so I could approach without being noticed.

They must have been thirty feet away, but I really couldn’t judge the distance. As I got closer, I noticed a number of tools, which they had obviously removed from the garage. I first saw a garden rake and a shovel, and noticed they too were using shovels.

Three black drawstring plastic trash bags were on the ground by their work site. They were digging a hole and obviously planned to bury something. I noticed the hole was rather deep, because my aunt had difficulty climbing out. Cam, who was slacking off, had to lend her a hand. I remember thinking how strong he looked as he lifted her out, which really surprised me.

Suddenly, Cam started to get really agitated and shaking violently. Then, he starts to change, and he is growing these claws and his eyes are turning red. Jagged teeth elongated before my eyes. I knew at that point I wasn’t imagining what I saw the previous night.

He ripped open the plastic bags, one after the other. My aunt just stood there like this was an everyday thing.

He reached into the first bag and pulled out this doll. The smell practically overpowered me, it was God awful. I realized this wasn’t a doll, but a little kid. I remembered then what the sheriff had said on my first Sunday night. Something about missing kids. I put it all together.

Oh, God.

It got worse. He didn’t seem to like this one, so he tossed the kid in the hole. He did the same with the next one. Then he got to the last, and I swear to God he smiled. His jaw seemed to keep falling open, I swear, and he tossed the kid in this wide open mouth, and swallowed it without chewing. The dead kid slid down his throat without resistance.

They heard me somehow. I think I gagged or retched or something.

Cam bent over at the waist, his arms were extended in front of him and his hands were sharp claws. I was in deep trouble.

“The serpent needs another heir. So we need him. You know that.” My aunt was talking to Cam. “Get him, but keep him whole, for now.” Cam growled deep in his throat.

I must have said something stupid like, “What?” or “Who?”

“The evil one. The prince of darkness…you’re old enough.”

I started backing away.

“Get him,” my aunt roared.

Cam charged. He was fast. I backpedaled and saw there was no way I could escape. I tripped over the rake. I fell to my knees and I knew I was dead. My last coherent thought was to grab something, and I think it was the shovel.

I stood and raised it just as Cam pounced—honest it was just like that. The mouth opening seemed way out of proportion. He was flying towards me.

Somehow I got the shovel right at his gaping mouth on the downward arc of his leap. With a sickening sound, I rammed it down his throat as his forward momentum continued. His eyes rounded in shock and he made this choking sound. He knocked me down when he fell, and his arms flailed. His claws scraped my legs. I was trapped under him for a few seconds, but he rolled in agony and I must have screamed, or maybe it was my aunt. I still don’t know. I scrambled to my feet and started running.

I heard my aunt wailing. “Cam! Cam!” then, “What did you do?” I knew she was yelling this after me. Porch lights were going on in the neighborhood. I kept running. I never went back into that house.

I ran to the street, not minding my bare feet. One or two people tried to help, but I just skirted them.

Somehow I found the sheriff’s house. I still can’t believe that. A new kid only there a few days was able to run in a blind panic and find a house and an address for which he only had a vague knowledge.

I ran up the path and stairs. I fell once, skinning my knees, but didn’t care. I kept pounding on the door until someone answered.

I heard the sheriff yelling, “All right already! Jesus.”

When he yanked the door open, I somehow had the breath to practically scream, “You said to contact you if I need help. Please!”

What happened next was a blur. He pulled me inside. His wife came running, and she held me. He went outside with his gun drawn, and then came back in. He asked me what happened. I don’t know how much sense I made, but I told him what had been going on for the past three days. He accepted everything I said. He didn’t doubt a word. Soon he was on the phone giving orders. He checked his house, made sure everything was secure, and told his wife to take care of me. I was surprised to see she had a gun nearby, and seemed quite comfortable with it. The sheriff left.

Of course I was a mess, so she got me in the shower. She found me some old clothes that belonged to one of her sons. I couldn’t stop shaking, so she gave me a blanket. She fixed me something to eat, soup I think. I couldn’t look at it because I felt sick. She made me take some, and she was right. Once I started eating I couldn’t stop. She gave me seconds on the soup. Funny how I remember that.

I dozed off in the chair, and then the sheriff came back around ten or eleven. He pulled a chair up and sat right across from me.

“Your aunt and cousin are dead. We found the remains of some children.”

I nodded, but said nothing. I didn’t ask how they died. Not then.

“Would you like to stay with us for a while and see if you like it?”

I said, “Yes”, and then I know I cried.