Prologue
The Swamp
Waves of thunder rolled across the dark, cloud-scudded sky as a hundred bolts of lightning lit up the little town of Jackson like a gigantic fourth of July fireworks display. Suddenly, as if on signal, the sky burst open up like a giant dam and rain came pelting down in heavy drops, bouncing off the walkways and streets like pellets of buckshot.
Twelve-year old Tracy Adams snapped the lid on her backpack and closed the library door behind her. Then she pulled her rain hood over her head and snuggled further down into her raincoat. ‘I knew I should have taken Mom’s umbrella,’ she mumbled as the rain poured down on her in torrents. Tracy started running down South Main Street towards Dismal Swamp Road where her home was located at the far end. The road, dotted with numerous potholes, wound for about half a mile past a cemetery and then a murky, scary place called ‘Dismal Swamp’ which was situated in an almost abandoned, rural area at the far edge of town. A wooden fence had been erected years before alongside the edge of the swamp to keep the boldest alligators from wandering onto the road during heavy rainfall when the swamp was apt to overflow its banks, but the town failed to maintain it. Now, sections of it had rotted away from the overflowing swamp water and it had become a local hazard for anyone who had to walk by there. Due to the torrential rain this night, it seemed inevitable that it would overflow its banks once again.
Dismal Swamp Road had been named after the sinister-looking island that dominated the center of a wetlands area known as ‘Dismal Swamp.’ In the middle of Dismal Swamp was an island, appropriately named ‘Dismal Swamp Island’ and on the island was an old, abandoned, weather-beaten house. Once owned by a wealthy man and his wife and bejeweled with unspoken pride, the now abandoned house had long ago surrendered to futility. According to rumors among the more superstitious, the house was surrounded by a malicious aura and was thought to be haunted by the dead couple. The weird, horrible noises that came from the house each night had traveled across the swamp and driven terror into the hearts of nearby residents. The house, not noticeable on this darkest of nights until a stroke of lightning bared what some thought to be the souls of the dead couple, stood silent and ominous as if it was daring anyone to cross the alligator-infested swamp to venture near. Most of the local homeowners on the road had abandoned their homes months ago, unable to sell them even at bargain prices. The few occupied homes that remained wore “For Sale” signs on their front lawns or gates… signs whose paint had already begun to blister from the effects of the hot, southern sun. These homes belonged to the “hangers-on” who had not yet succumbed to the sense of fear and desperation that had overcome the others. Tracy’s widowed mother was among those “hangers-on,” unable to sell and too poor to leave.
Breathing hard, Tracy continued running, her backpack slapping against her body as she ran. She gulped as she took a quick look at her watch and noticed the time… eleven forty five. With luck, she would be home before midnight...before those awful, ghoulish noises began. Normally the Jackson Library closed at ten o’clock each evening but, due to popular demand, the librarian had agreed to keep it open until eleven o’clock one night a week during the last few weeks of school. Tracy had intended to leave before eleven but had become so absorbed in finishing her homework assignment she had lost all track of time until the librarian had sounded the warning buzzer announcing the fifteen minutes remaining until closing time.
Turning onto Dismal Swamp Road and leaving the last of the streetlights behind her, she removed her flashlight from her raincoat pocket and turned it on. The light was dim but it was all she had. It had never occurred to her to check the batteries before she left. She thought again about her Mom’s words to her before she left the house to walk the mile and a half to the library: “They’re predicting a bad electrical storm later tonight, Tracy,” she had said, “so be sure you don’t stay too late. I don’t like the idea of you walking home alone down Dismal Swamp Road after dark, especially if it’s raining hard. If the car was running I’d drive you.”
“Golly, Mom,” she’d said, “ the car always seems to be broken down when we need it the most. But, car or no car, I’ve got to finish this homework or I’ll never pass the school finals.”
Her mother had begrudgingly let her go despite her concern.
The rain pelted down heavier and the night became darker than she could ever remember as she ran straight down the middle of Dismal Swamp Road with the meager sliver of light from her flashlight as her only means of navigation. As it became darker, she was forced to slow down to a fast walk in spite of the heavy rain for fear of walking off the edge of the road and falling into the swamp. Already she could feel an accumulation of water sloshing under her feet as she walked. She began to wonder if she’d make it home before the swamp overflowed and before those ‘noises’ began. Deep in thought as she plodded along, her flashlight suddenly went out and she found herself staring ahead into inky blackness as the beginning of a fog-like mist began to drift silently and ominously across the swamp. Immediately she stopped. Not a house light was visible anywhere. She knew her Mom would be waiting up and would keep the front light on for her but her house was still quite a way off around the next bend in the road. She could no longer see her watch but she sensed it had to be close to midnight by now. Running parallel to the swamp for three or four blocks was the Baptist Church Cemetery. Because it was the only cemetery in town it was populated with the lifeless bodies of any Jackson resident who had died in the past two hundred years, regardless of their religious denomination. Although she was taught not to believe in ghosts she hoped nothing would happen tonight to weaken those beliefs. She began walking again, this time more slowly. The closeness of the cemetery on her left and Dismal Swamp on her right unnerved her, giving her the feeling she was walking a tight-rope. She held both hands out in front of her hoping she would not touch anything. She felt more helpless than she ever felt before in her life. She tried to keep to the left of the road away from the puddles of water that had begun to form as a result of the swamp gradually overflowing its banks. But with no light to guide her anymore, both the road ahead and the road behind her was as black as coal. A sudden bolt of lightning lit up the night sky casting an eerie light on all the gravestones. Despite the chill that ran up her backbone she felt a rush of relief come over her as she recovered her sense of direction. Walking quicker now, she tried to keep the image of the road in her mind, trying to remember where the next curve in the road was and how far to the left or right. Suddenly, unable to see the huge pothole in front of her, she tripped and fell face downward into the two-inch accumulated mixture of rain and swamp water she’d been walking in. She bruised her knee as it scraped against the rough edge of the pothole. Trying to hold back tears of pain, fear and frustration and to keep from screaming for help, she started to get up on her feet when she heard what sounded like a low wailing noise emanating from Dismal Swamp. Although she had heard the eerie sounds before, she was always safe inside her house with her Mom when she heard them. Now, walking parallel to the swamp, the noises were more terrifying than ever! They were a stark contrast to the sound of beautiful birdcalls that came from the island during the day. The owners of the house who had originally established a bird sanctuary on the island had been dead a long time but the birds still remained as Dismal Swamp’s only redeeming feature. But when night fell, the birdcalls were silenced and were replaced by the haunting-like sounds that no one seemed able to identify.
A sudden chill went up her spine as the noises became louder and eerier. Panic immediately overwhelmed her and her heart rate almost doubled. She tried to run but the bruise from her knee was too painful so she limped along as fast as she could. Unmindful and uncaring of what lay ahead, she tripped in another pothole in the murky darkness and fell headlong onto the hard pavement. The strap holding her book sack broke and the sack of books fell onto the wet pavement. Tracy groaned in pain as she struggled weakly to get up. It was then that she heard the familiar mating call of a large, male alligator as it slithered across the road somewhere in front of her. There was no one around to hear her screams! |
