Hell Hollow Read online

  HELL HOLLOW

  By Ronald Kelly

  Copyright 2010 by Ronald Kelly

  First Digital Edition published by Crossroad Press & Macabre Ink Digital

  Hardcover print edition first published by

  Cemetery Dance Publications

  August 2010

  Cover artwork by Alex McVey

  Cover design by Desert Isle Design

  LICENSE NOTES

  This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to your vendor of choice and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author

  ALSO BY RONALD KELLY FROM CROSSROAD PRESS

  Novels & Novellas

  Hell Hollow

  Timber Gray

  Flesh Welder

  Collections

  Dark Dixie

  Dark Dixie II

  Cumberland Furnace & Other Fear Forged Fables

  The Sick Stuff

  Unabridged Audio

  Flesh Welder

  Try any title from CROSSROAD PRESS – use the Coupon Code FIRSTBOOK for a one time 20% savings! We have a wide variety of eBook and Audiobook titles available. Find us at: http://store.crossroadpress.com

  To Mark, Carletta, & Holly Hickerson.

  It’s funny how a single letter can bring together the best of friends.

  Thanks for your friendship and support during the past few years.

  PROLOGUE

  “Well, come on!” urged the older boy, who looked to be around eight years of age. “Stop dragging your heels if you want him to help you.”

  The other boy, who was barely five, struggled to keep up. “I’m a-coming!” he called.

  He cradled something small and still inside the front of his buttoned coat. “You just hang on, Lady. We’ll see if this here gentleman can fix you up.”

  The bundle simply twitched and whimpered softly, but not nearly as much as it had an hour before.

  Together, the two boys made their way down the kudzu-covered slope of a deep, wooded hollow. The autumn of 1917 was in full swing. Maple and oak grew around them in abundance, their golden leaves just waiting to shed from their branches and fall earthward after the next hard frost. Further down, in the bottom of the hollow, stood a thick stand of pines. The grove was choked with dark shadows, even though it was only a little past one in the afternoon.

  “You think it’s safe to go down there?” asked the younger boy. He had never ventured past the edge of the South Woods, let alone into its deepest hollow.

  “Why, of course,” said the other, straightening his wire-framed spectacles. “Anyway, if you don’t get some help soon, we’re gonna end up digging a grave out behind your pappy’s barn.”

  “Don’t say that!” moaned the five-year-old. He felt close to tears, but did his best to fight them off. It wouldn’t help poor Lady one bit if he went to squalling all of a sudden.

  It wasn’t long before they reached the bottom of the hollow. The moment they got there, the silence of the autumn woods gave way to the sound of music. A five-string banjo picking “Beautiful Dreamer”.

  “That must be him up ahead,” said the bespectacled boy.

  "I reckon so,” replied the other, continuing to cradle the shivering bundle beneath his woolen coat.

  They reached the edge of the pine grove and found what they had come looking for. A cabin wagon – similar to what a traveling circus might use – was parked in the middle of a grassy clearing. Its wheels were a bright, candy apple red and its sides were painted in bold letters of green, red, and yellow. The words said it all; DOCTOR AUGUSTUS LEECH’S TRAVELING MEDICINE SHOW – MAGIC, MUSIC, & MUSE – FEATURING THE GOOD DOCTOR’S PATENTED CURE-ALL ELIXIR.

  The younger boy marveled at the medicine show wagon. Even though he wasn’t yet able to read, he knew about the man who had showed up out of the blue. His friend had told him what he had heard in town. How the mysterious Doctor Leech proclaimed that his wondrous elixir had the ability to cure everything from a toothache to tuberculosis. In fact, that was the reason why they had decided to trek into the wilderness of the South Woods shortly after dinnertime.

  Tied to a tree next to the wagon were two coal black horses. The two boys stayed away from them, though. They looked moody and downright mean, as though they right take a bite out of you if you wandered too close.

  As they stepped around to the far side of the wagon, the banjo picking ceased and a voice called out to them. “Welcome to my humble campsite, gentlemen,” it invited, its tone silky and alluring, like the sideshow barker at the county fair. “Come and join me by the fire.”

  They turned and, for the first time, laid eyes on the man that the whole town of Harmony was talking about. He sat on a mossy log before a crackling campfire; a tall, lanky fellow with raven black hair, a waxed mustache and goatee beard, and the darkest eyes either had ever seen before. But it was his attire that interested them the most. In addition to woolen britches and a starched white shirt, he wore a black frock coat with dangling tails. And atop his head was perched a tall, stovepipe hat of the same dark hue. It looked similar to the hat Abe Lincoln wore in their history books at school, except this one was a little dented and dusty in places.

  The older boy cleared his throat nervously. “Uh, are you Doctor Leech?” he asked.

  “That I am, lad,” he said with a thin smile of pearly white teeth.

  “And what they say is true? That you can conjure magic and such?”

  The man’s narrow smile rose at the edges, linking with the curled ends of his mustache. “Undoubtedly,” he said. “Observe!”

  The two boys watched in amazement as the medicine show man cupped his lean hands together, then opened them. A slimy green toad sat within the cradle of his palms. He closed his hands again. The next time he opened them, they found that the frog had been replaced by a gray mouse. The long-fingered hands closed and opened a third and final time. The rodent had changed into a bird that looked to be a dove, though it was pitch black in color. The black dove flew toward their startled faces with a fluttering of wings, then soared upward and disappeared into the treetops.

  “Did you see that?” said the older boy excitedly. “He’s surely a sorcerer, if ever there was one!”

  “A minor feat,” said Leech, waving a bony hand in dismissal. He eyed the two boys curiously. “But you didn’t come here to witness a few silly magic tricks. Your journey has a much graver purpose, or am I mistaken?”

  “No, sir, you’re not,” said the older boy. He nodded toward his companion. “His pup is sick. Bad-off sick.”

  The five-year-old unbuttoned his coat and revealed a spotted puppy. The dog breathed shallowly and yellow mucus rimmed her half-closed eyes. “She’s feeling right poorly, mister.”

  “Yes, I can see,” said Leech, his grin twitching at the corners a bit. “But what could I possibly do to help this ailing creature?”

  The older boy pointed to the flamboyant words that were painted on the side of the wagon. “Well, we kinda thought maybe you could heal her… you know, with that miracle elixir of yours.”

  A strange look came into the dark eyes of Augustus Leech. A humorous sparkle, as well as something else. Something that was vague, but not at all nice. “Yes, of course,” he said. “Please, let me see the poor animal.”

  The younger boy stepped forward and handed the pup to the tall man. Leech cradled the dog in his hands, stroking its speckled fur tenderly. “Yes,” he said softly. “I can feel your hurt, your pain. Deep down,
festering. But not to worry. I have just the thing for you.”

  The boys watched as Doctor Leech took a bottle from an inner pocket of his frock coat. It was a long, narrow, glass bottle with a paper label affixed to its front. Leech uncorked the bottle with his fine, white teeth. He then wedged a thumb between the whimpering pup’s jaws and, prying them apart, poured several drops of the dark elixir down the animal’s throat.

  “There we go,” said Leech, placing the dog upon the ground. He grinned at his audience of two. “Now… watch!”

  The boys did as they were told. At first, the puppy simply laid there, whining. Then its eyes opened widely. They watched in utter fascination as the dog suddenly jumped to its feet and began to leap around playfully.

  “Lady!” cried the five-year-old. “You’re okay!”

  “Why, of course,” boasted Leech. He corked the bottle and returned it to his coat pocket. “My elixir cures all.”

  The younger boy knelt and called to the dog. Lady ran to him and nearly knocked him down. She licked at the boy’s face. The five-year-old caught a peculiar scent on the animal’s breath; a smell like cotton candy and castor oil combined.

  “How much do we owe you?” asked the one with the glasses.

  “Absolutely nothing!” declared Augustus Leech. His grin grew broader, until it seemed as though it might split his face in half. “Let us just say that this is my… umm… good deed for today.”

  “Gee, thanks, mister,” said the five-year-old.

  “But you may do one thing in return for my services,” said the lanky man in the stovepipe hat. He stepped over to his wagon and reached under the seat, bringing out a stack of brightly-colored handbills. “You can pass these out for me. To let folks know when I’ll be coming to town.”

  “Sure thing!” said the older boy. “I’ll even put one up in the window of my daddy’s store.”

  “Excellent!” said Leech. “Oh, and one more thing.” He extended his right hand, splaying his fingers like a fan. Magically, two cards appeared out of thin air. He handed one to each boy. “A little something for the both of you.”

  They took the cards that were offered to them. They were larger than normal playing cards and bore separate illustrations. One depicted the image of a Confederate soldier holding a musket in one hand and a cap-and-ball revolver in the other. The second card showed a spaceman and his rocket ship on the crater-pocked surface of the moon, like something out of an H.G. Wells book.

  “What’re these for?” asked one of the boys.

  “They are very special,” the medicine show man told them. “Just place them beneath your pillows tonight and see what happens.”

  “Thanks a lot, mister!”

  The two bid the mysterious Doctor Leech farewell, then headed back up the steep slope of the backwoods hollow. Surprisingly, Lady beat them to the top, jumping and yelping happily all the way.

  “He sure fixed up my pup, didn’t he?” said the younger boy with a big smile on his freckled face.

  “Didn’t I tell you?” replied his friend.

  The boy with the spectacles reached the lip of the hollow before his companion. When he got there, he froze in his tracks and stood perfectly still. “Don’t move,” he warned as the other boy reached level ground.

  “Huh?” the child asked, puzzled. “What’s the matter?”

  His pal simply pointed at the speckled dog that stood a few feet away. At first, the five-year-old noticed nothing out of the ordinary. Then he saw it. The dog stood almost too still, his body and legs trembling, his tail curved upward like the blade of a scythe. But it was the puppy’s eyes that frightened him most. They were red. Not bloodshot red, like those of a drunken man, but glowing red, like the hot coals of a potbelly stove.

  “What’s wrong with her?” he asked in a whisper.

  A thick, foamy string of saliva dripped from the corner of the pup’s mouth as its jaws parted in a toothy snarl.

  “It’s done gone rabid, that’s what,” said the elder boy. “Plumb stark raving mad!”

  Suddenly, the dog charged toward them, snapping and growling. The two boys dodged Lady’s attack and hightailed it for a tall oak nearby. They pulled themselves onto its lower limb as quickly as they could. The younger boy barely made it, however. He felt the pup’s tiny, sharp teeth nip at the heel of one of his new winter shoes as he scurried up.

  They sat there, out of reach, for the better part of ten minutes, watching the dog snap and snarl and foam at the mouth. One moment it would circle the tree like a bobcat on the prowl, then the next it was spring up at them, much higher than a normal puppy should be able to. It turned its viciousness on itself as well, biting at its own haunches until it drew blood.

  Then, without warning, it stopped. It stood rigid and still for a long second, then threw back its spotted head. It opened its slavering jaws and, with a tormented howl of agony and loss, pitched over and fell into a motionless heap at the foot of the tree. From where they sat on the limb, they could tell that it would menace them no more.

  Cautiously, they hopped down. The older boy walked over, squatted, and stared into the dog’s open eyes. The red glow that had blazed there so brightly slowly faded and winked out completely. “She’s passed on,” he said. “That elixir… it must’ve been too strong for her.”

  The five-year-old stood there, but he didn’t cry. Instead, he looked toward the dark hollow that dipped several yards away. “No,” he said grimly. “He knew what it’d do to her, but he didn’t care.”

  At that moment, a sound drifted from up out of the hollow. A peal of sinister laughter full of cruelty and dark amusement. And both boys knew who it came from.

  “Let’s get on home,” suggested the ten-year-old.

  The younger boy didn’t argue. Together, they ran through the woods as fast as their feet could carry them, leaving the evil laughter and the lifeless body of the speckled puppy behind.

  PART ONE

  HARMONY & DISCONTENT

  CHAPTER ONE

  “No!” said Keith Bishop. He sat at the breakfast nook table with his arms crossed, letting his cheese omelet and wheat toast grow cold.

  “Ah, darling, it’ll be so much fun!” said his mother. Felicia Bishop took a small bite of egg, making sure none of it fell off her fork onto her jacket of burgundy suede. “You will simply love it.”

  “No, I won’t,” Keith said defiantly. “I’m not going and that’s final!”

  Robert Bishop took a sip of his coffee and let his eyes rove along the columns of the stock market page of the newspaper, picking out abbreviations he and his stockbroker knew by heart. “I’m afraid you’ll just have to get used to the idea,” he told his son.

  “The arrangements have already been made.”

  Keith shook his head in disgust. “I can’t believe this!” He looked at his mother. “You can’t be serious. The whole rest of the summer?”

  “It will only be four weeks at the very most,” she assured him. “And it will be a good change of pace for you, sweetie. You know, sunshine and fresh air and all that jazz.”

  The boy looked over at his father. “Dad, can’t you…?”

  “I’m afraid not, Keith.” Robert looked up from his paper. His face wore that ironclad, no-compromise expression that he sported in the courtroom when he was representing a corporate client. “Our plans have already been made. This is the only chance this year that your mother and I are both free to take a vacation. After September, our schedules are completely tied up.”

  “Don’t you think we deserve to have some time to ourselves, Keith?” his mother asked.

  Keith bristled at her use of psychology. She was trying to make him feel guilty now. But then, that was her bread and butter, wasn’t it? Playing games with people’s heads and charging them an obscene amount of money to do it.

  “I didn’t say that, Mom,” he told her. “It’s just, well, why can’t I stay with Uncle Richard and Aunt Sophia like I did when you went on that Caribbean cruise a few
years ago?”

  “You were nine then,” said his father. “You’re twelve now and, to tell the truth, they’re just not accustomed to dealing with a boy your age. Particularly one with, shall we say, behavioral problems like yours?” Robert took another sip of decaf. “Besides, they’re going to Cancun the second week of August and they certainly can’t take you with them, now can they?”

  Keith sat there and stewed in his own juices for a few minutes. It wasn’t that he begrudged his mother and father a month in Europe. They worked hard at their careers; Robert was the best corporate attorney in Atlanta and Felicia was a respected psychiatrist that catered to the city’s affluent. They certainly deserved to take a hiatus every now and then. And it wasn’t that he was upset because they weren’t taking him with them. He remembered his last trip to Great Britain and Europe when he was eight years old and, in his opinion, it had really sucked. Just a bunch of drafty old castles and people jabbering in languages he didn’t understand. He would take Six Flags or Disney World over Italy and France any old day.

  And he certainly didn’t mind enduring a few weeks away from his parents, either. Keith was very independent and didn’t need anyone hovering over him every moment of the day and night. He had been a certified latchkey kid since third grade and pretty much knew how to take care of himself. In fact, he really only saw his parents three or four hours out of the entire day; two in the morning before they left for work and maybe a couple at night, even if that much. Robert and Felicia Bishop were terminal workaholics. Keith had eaten microwave dinners more nights than he could remember, due to the overtime his parents put in after their regular working hours.

  No, the thing that angered him most of all about this “arrangement” his mother and father had made behind his back was where they intended to send him for the long summer month August.

  And that was to his Grandfather McLeod’s farm in a little town located in the hills and hollows of central Tennessee.