Snakedoctors

(Originally published in Indecent Magazine Aug 2022)

It was one of the endless days of summer. The humid air and the cicadas’ song made me feel like I was drowning while the earth was bone dry. I had been outlawed from my momma’s kitchen. She said I was buggin’ her, always underfoot. I needed to get out and enjoy the sunshine while I could. The summer never lasts as long as you think, she said. 

Roy was similarly sent out into the wilderness and told to come home at dark. So naturally, he wound up at my house. Roy had hit his growth spurt already and had eyes real close like a possum. He had sprouted a few chin hairs and thought that made him my boss. His bike was his bigger (but shorter) brother’s hand me down, so his knees nearly came up to his chest as he pedaled up the dusty drive. 

“Let’s go swim,” he said. The sun had brought his freckles to the surface of his cheeks and along his nose. 

“I don’t know, Roy,” I said. “Memaw told me not to go to the crick. It’s probably all dried up anyway.” I was rereading one of my comic books for the hundredth time, clean-cut GI types exploring distant planets where they didn’t belong. Swimming sounded like way more fun, but I took my memaw’s words as gospel. The trees talked to her when she sat real still. She always had a plant to pick when you were feeling any kind of way you didn’t want to. And she saw spooks that told her things in her dreams while she dozed off in the sunshine. They had told her of the widow Emily Jones and how she lingered at the old bridge where she died, and she may never find rest. 

Between the heat and Roy calling me names, I finally gave in. Momma made us some sandwiches and told us to be careful. If we saw a dragonfly, their snake patients were no doubt somewhere nearby. I knew that already, but I told her yes ma’am. 

The breeze from riding as fast as we could gave some relief, but just enough to cool the sweat we were working up to pedal up the hills before coasting down the other side. We took a fork at the new bridge to get to the old one. Wood and mostly upright out of sheer luck, the old bridge had seen much better days. But that was the easiest place to get in and out. We let our bikes fall to the ground and looked down at the crick. 

Somehow, despite the lack of rain, it still seemed full, gurgling as it drifted past the stone supports of the bridge. Roy tugged his shirt over his head, revealing his pale white belly and the hard line border of where his sleeves normally covered, his arms and hands like someone else’s stuck on. I saw he had what could be classified as chest hairs, and waited for him to gloat. He yanked off his shoes and pulled his socks down, revealing more ghost pale skin. 

“Wonder if we’ll see her,” Roy said as he pulled his shorts off too. I followed suit, knowing a comment about my baby fat would be along shortly. 

“Don’t say her name,” I said, holding up a finger in warning. I spit on the ground as an extra ward against the bad luck he was bringing. Roy stepped out into clear water and let out a big sigh of relief. I followed after him and even though the cool water was a shock, it was exactly what I needed. I dunked my head below the water and looked about at the alien world beneath the surface. I turned about in a circle and realized I didn’t see any of the usual frogs or little fish. When I came up for air to tell him, Roy pushed me back down. This happened a few more times, him yanking me up and pushing me back under. Eventually I wiggled my way free and shoved him away. “That ain’t funny,” I said, but he was obviously tickled. I was so sore I forgot all about the fish. 

“Did you think Emily Jones had got you?” he asked, wiggling his fingers. 

“You shouldn’t…speak ill…of the…dead like that,” I said, taking big gulps of air. 

“Like what? She killed her babies then herself. Surely there ain’t any good way of talking about her. Besides, she’s been dead for at least a year,” Roy replied, laying on his back and floating a little ways down towards the bridge. “Mikey come here one night and saw her. Said she was cryin’. Serves her right, I reckon.” I had heard his brother’s story from Roy’s mouth no telling how many times. 

“That’s enough of that,” I said and he lifted his head up to look at me so I could see him roll his eyes.  

I brought my eyes down level with the water and could see the shadows beneath the bridge were black like a moonless night. And Roy was headed right for them. I brought my head up and swam after Roy. He was grinning up at the sun, his eyes shut like he was sleeping. His face went into the darkness as my hand went out and grabbed his ankle. He jerked upright, but I could barely see him in the dark. I heard the unmistakable sound of a lady crying. We weren’t catholic, but I made the sign of the cross like I’d seen some of the kids do. 

“What in the hell?” he muttered, his voice carrying up the stones and echoing off the wood. “You gotta-” he was saying before he screamed. He thrashed out towards me and I could see a cloud of red blossoming out under the water. Roy held his hand to his shoulder as he stood and I could see the blood running out from under his fingertips. “Get out of the water!” he yelled at me as he stumbled up the muddy shore. There was a loud splash from under the bridge and I didn’t need to be told twice. 

Something slick and black green slid upstream towards us. My first reaction was to shout and trip my way up the bank to our bikes. Roy had got to his and was yelling for me to hurry up. His arm hung limply at his waist, a waterfall of red rushing down to where his tan began. Whatever it was broke the surface and two enormous yellow eyes locked onto us. I picked up my bike and held it between me and the thing. It scurried up the bank with no problem, on spindly legs that lifted up its long body. It was easily as big as a dog, hell, probably bigger. 

I hesitated, thinking we should get our clothes. In that split second, I saw its pinchers spread wide. “Jesus Christ!” I screamed and tried to run for the road. Suddenly, its mouth was moving closer to me. Stretched out on something like a long arm, it grabbed my bike up in its teeth. It yanked my bike free from my hands and I fell on my ass. The bike squealed as the monster crushed its frame between its teeth and then tossed it off into the water. 

“Come on!” Roy said, tugging at me. The thing got still, taking aim at us. Roy did the only thing he could think of, I guess, and threw his bike at it too. It grabbed hold of it and didn’t waste any time trying to eat his. 

We were running down the road, our bare feet slapping the dirt. The thing started chasing us, dripping buckets of water off its body. Something like sobbing came out of the creature, as it called out to us. I picked up the pace, but Roy was starting to wobble, getting woozy from losing blood. I stepped in front of him and had him hold around my neck. I pulled him up onto my back and I ran as fast as I could. The blood from his shoulder ran down onto my mine and he started to whimper, asking for his momma. 

We came out of the woods, up to the new bridge. The asphalt scalding my feet, I ran out onto the blacktop. A old pick up truck was hiccuping its way down the road straight towards us. The truck started to honk as the monster came up onto the road. I fell back as its mouth shot out again, getting a hold of my stomach. It was like hot fire as them teeth cut in and took a chunk of me.

The thing was too focused on getting us, I reckon. That pick up truck plowed into that thing and sent it flying out onto the bridge. The old man driving the truck climbed out and pulled the shotgun from its rack in the back window. From the weeds in the ditch, I watched as he hobbled up to it. It cried and cried. 

I still swear it tried to say something. I’m not sure what, mind you. But that old man didn’t give it the chance, and I can’t say as I blame him. The gun went off and echoed out through the trees and fields, sending birds flowing up and out into the sky. I heard the shotgun pumped and then another blast rang out.

I did my best to hold my hand against Roy’s shoulder and the other against my belly. The bug, or whatever it was, had taken a plug out of us both. I couldn’t stop crying. More for Roy than for me. The doctors said I was in shock, which isn’t a surprise. I yelled for the old man and he came. He patted me on the shoulder and said it would all be okay. We loaded Roy into the bed of his truck and I rode back there with him. 

There was a tiny bit of a scandal when we first showed up to the hospital. Two near-naked boys covered in blood hobbling through the front doors, me yelling about a bug almost as big as me. The police came and I told them what happened. Roy had lost so much blood they weren’t sure if he was going to make it. But he did, the lanky possum he was. 

By the time police got to the bridge, whatever it was was gone. The only thing left was a pool of red blood going brown. They didn’t believe it was an alien or a bug, or the embodiment of Emily Jones and her drowned babies. But they posted signs all the same, warning people not to swim there. Memaw nursed me back to health, and though she would never say “I told you so,” I could feel it in the grins she’d give me when I winced at the rubbing alcohol. When school started back, we had the scars to back up our story. Roy and me were a little braver in our version of the tall tale, but we didn’t think that would hurt nothing.

From what I can tell, kids still tell the story of Emily Jones and how she became a demon that ate some stupid boys alive one time. I figure it’s better for them to be afraid than to find out themselves.