"The River God" by Ricardo D. Rebelo

The River God

by Ricardo D. Rebelo

 

Steam poured out of the pipe as the glowing green liquid flowed into the river. The person holding the pipe wore a hazmat suit and worked with extreme care.

"What the fuck do ya think that guy's doing?" Dave asked.

He and Skip Darmody had lived rough along Watuppa Pond long enough to recognize unwelcome news.

"Pouring more shit in the water, it looks like," Skip responded.

"Yeah, but what shit, though?"

"Who gives a fuck? That's another world. Just steer clear of it."

"What if it wakes...him...though?"

"You need to cut the shit with those bullshit stories. I don't give a fuck about what the damned Wampanoag told you at their powwow. There ain't no fucking ancient forest monsters out here. Just a bunch of broke-ass greenhorns living in the wild."

"I don't know, Dave. I think it won't like that green shit in its water. Look at it. It's fucking glowing."

"Drink your hooch and get some fucking sleep, Skippy. You'll feel better in the morning."

Skip Darmody listened to his pal Dave. He drank his "hooch"—a combination of Arizona Iced Tea's Arnold Palmer and Fireball whiskey. He dumped out a third of the iced tea and poured two nips into the aluminum can. He was gonna need extra sleep tonight, so potent medicine was in order.

An unearthly howl woke the two men. They had been sleeping in their hammocks, and Dave fell out of his from the shock.

"What the fuck was that?" Skip asked.

"My back...Jesus Christ," Dave responded, groaned as he hit the ground.

"Dave, did you hear that?"

"Yeah, it scared me out of my fucking rack," said Dave.

"You okay?"

"No, but what the hell was that?"

Skip got out of his hammock the conventional way and looked across the river to the reedy water on the other side. The reeds were glowing in the night—bright green shafts sticking out of the water like a bed of living nails.

Skip questioned if it was the hooch making him see things. He reached over and picked Dave up by the hand.

"Jeeesuuuusss," Dave said. His bones snapped like dry twigs as Skip helped him to his feet.

Both men stood just in time to see the beast emerge completely from the water. It had to have been seven feet tall, with leathery gray skin transparent enough to reveal the blue, red, and purple veins beneath. Its head was solid bone, and horns reached out in a maze of points to crown it. Though the head was just a skull, burning red eyes sat in the sockets, glowing with hellfire.

"Holy shit," Dave whispered.

The person in the hazmat suit had still been pumping solution into the stream. They dropped the hose, and it danced on the shoreline as pressurized fluid continued pouring out.

The worker froze. Their body useless. Breath locked behind their ribs.

The beast grabbed the hazmat worker with its long talons and held them in the air for a moment. It brought the person close until they were face to face. It screamed like a banshee, so powerful that it tore the mask from the worker. The scream was inhuman—an anger from a place not common to this world.

The beast then dunked the worker into the contaminated river. Dave and Skip could only see the person's legs convulsing from whatever hell they were experiencing below the waterline.

When it pulled the hazmat worker back out, the upper half of the person had melted like a pillar candle lit too long. Their life's essence dripped around their waist like hot crimson wax. The beast held them close again and let out another subhuman roar, as if to chastise this worker and all others who would dare soil its domain.

Dave and Skip screamed. They regretted it the moment the beast turned its head toward them. It flung the body of the hazmat worker against the truck they'd been using to dump the waste—a lifeless thud.

The beast must have thought the men were guilty by proximity and had more wrath to inflict. It came at them, lifting its giant legs out of the water and back in. Waves of electric green water surged through the waterway.

"Keep running," Dave said. They did. Skip and Dave ran for their lives—and their afterlives, too.

They reached the main road. Cars rushed past like bullets. The men wove through traffic. The beast's threat was worse than anything on the road. Across the street stood a Walmart. When Dave and Skip reached the lighted sign, they turned to see if the beast was still in pursuit.

It was gone...at first. The tree line had been dark, but within it, two red eyes pulsed.

"What's he doing?" Dave asked.

"Waiting for us."

"Why?"

"He doesn't want to come out into this world...the real world," Skip said.

"Why does he think we would go back?"

"Because we don't belong here either."