"Well, that’s the story. You can believe it or not, it’s up to you. I gotta get to bed." Jack Quigly hefted his huge bulk out of his rocker and made his ponderous way into the trailer. The door slammed shut behind him and Stella Quigly yelled at him.

"Can’t you ever shut that door quiet? I was about asleep here!"

"Shut up, Stella," said Jack.

Their voices carried crystal clear through the walls in the still night, and since Beau had heard it all many times during the past three days he decided enough was enough. He straightened up from his leaning position on the porch railing and lit a cigarette. The glow of the match briefly clarified his face. It was young and smooth-shaven, beautifully chiseled and almost too handsome. His eyes were an unusual mix of green and blue and many women had fallen in love with them. But after getting to know him they would notice what his eyes really looked like. They were narrowed and cynical. They held the look of a man who believed in nothing until the proof was in his hands. 

He took a drag on the cigarette and walked down the steps into the darkness.

His mind went over what Quigly had told him. Of course, he didn’t believe a word of it. It was crazy. But then, there was the question of what had happened to Yager.

Yager was his partner, his buddy, his pal. They had come to Plumfield Country three days ago for a day of fun and frivolity. Plumfield Country boasted horseback riding, fishing, three-wheeler trails and hiking. For the less energetic there was swimming or sunbathing along the river that ran smack though the middle of the park.

Anyway, Beau and Yager had been dirt-biking it and come across a trail that was closed off. No explanation, just closed. Well, Yager can’t stand it when anyone or anything tells him no, so he drove right through the chain and took off. Beau tried to call him back but Yager didn’t hear or didn’t care. Beau could have followed him, (and looking back now he probably should have) but he wasn’t quite as adventurous. So he headed back to the ranger office to find out whether Yager was in for serous trouble on that trail. The ranger was out. So Beau waited. An hour later he figured he better take the bike back to the guy running the rides so he wouldn’t get charged extra. He asked about the closed trail and the guy looked kinda scared and said talk to Jack Quigly. Beau asked if Yager had come back by any chance. No, he hadn’t. Beau hung around a bit, then went off to the trailer that housed Jack Quigly, owner of Plumfield Country.

And Jack had told him this wild story. The same one he had told him again tonight. And Beau still didn’t believe it. And yet, Yager and the bike had not been seen since.

Beau's meandering walk had taken him to the entrance to the bike trails. The police had closed it off until further notice. They had combed every inch of Plumfield Country, all 270 acres of it. No Yager. No bike. Of course, they had done all their searching during the day. Never at night.

Beau stood thinking a minute longer. Then he took the penlight out of his pocket and nimbly climbed over the chain. He headed for the trail Yager had taken and found it chained off again, this time with a more formidable-looking sign. Beau took a deep breath, summoned up a more adventurous nature, and stepped over into the deeper darkness.

Here the trees hung low and thick, almost obliterating any light that might try to seep through. He followed the trail as best he could, careful of stones and tree roots that seemed to leap into his path. He was aware of the night sounds of frogs and bugs and scurryings here and there, but he wasn’t afraid. It took a lot to scare Beau. He had a feeling Yager was just playing a cruel trick on his old buddy. Yeah, that was it. He was probably sitting in some motel somewhere with a cute chick laughing his head off, while Beau worried about whether his friend was dead or alive. Yager was into pranks, but he’d never carried one this far. Anyway, it was more believable than that crazy story Quigly had told him.

He’d been walking some time when he realized it was very quiet. There were no more night noises. There was no sound at all. His steps slowed. It wasn’t that he was scared, it was just so….quiet. He stopped and listened for any sound and felt the hair on the back of his neck rising. But he wasn’t scared. Just nervous, that was it, just nerves.

And then he heard it. Behind him. A squishing, sucking sound. He turned slowly and looked behind him. There was no one there. He could still hear the sound of someone, or something, walking through the marsh that was by the river off to his left. He swerved his flashlight in that direction and saw a figure emerge through the gloom. It was a man, his clothes torn and tattered, his walk more of a shuffle. Beau put the light on the man’s face and almost laughed in relief. It was Yager!

He didn’t even blink in the glare of the flashlight, and his eyes had a glassy look. But Beau didn’t notice this, so glad he was to see his old buddy. He moved toward him.

"Yager! For cryin out loud!  Where the hell have you been? And Jeesus Christ what have you been doing, you are seriously a mess!"

He was about to embrace him in friendship when he realized Yager wasn’t even looking at him. He was just gazing off into the distance. It was eerie.

"Buddy?" Beau prompted. He waved his hand in front of Yager’s eyes. No response. Beau was beginning to feel the hair on the back of his neck rising again.

He stepped back from Yager.

"Hey, what gives?" he asked nervously. He glanced behind him, thinking maybe Yager was intrigued by something in that direction. He felt the blow on his head the next instant. He saw stars. Then he saw nothing.

When he came to, he was lying on a hard table with a bright light over his head. He tried to move and discovered he was tied down. How long he had been out, he didn’t know. Then he heard voices in the room and quickly shut his eyes.

"I still say we should double our force," said a gravelly voice. "We don’t have enough manpower."

"And what do you suggest? That we simply go out into the street and take our pick?" This from a soft, hissing voice that sent chills down Beau’s spine. It must have affected the other man as well for he suddenly didn’t sound as sure of himself.

"Well, all I thought was..," he sputtered.

"Silence!" hissed the soft voice. "You are not paid to think. Our position is at least safe, if not strong."

A sound of a chair scraping across the floor, then footsteps coming toward the table. Beau squeezed his eyes tighter shut. The action must have been obvious by his captors’ next statement.

"It seems our friend is awakening. Stoner, get the hypo and bring it over here." Beau’s eyes flew open. "I thought that would bring you fully around," said the low voice on his right.

Beau turned his head and looked into bright green eyes set deeply into a thin face. Too thin. The bones stood out almost garishly in the harsh overhead light. The face was smiling sickly at him.

"Good evening. I trust you slept well?"

Beau smiled back. Don’t let him know you’re scared, he thought to himself.

"Like a baby," he said. "Although, I’d like to catch the guy with the sledgehammer." He winced as the lump on his head reminded him it was there. The man smiled again.

"Sorry about that." He didn't sound sorry at all. "It was necessary. What is your name?"

"What’s yours?" Beau fired back. "And where am I?" The man’s faced darkened and the smile went away.

"I abhor insolence. I ask the questions around here. And you must know I already know who you are. Your wallet gave me that info, Mr. Beau Bryant." His hissing voice was beginning to annoy Beau.

"Then you’re one up on me. I still don’t know who you are," said Beau, wondering if the man had taken the one hundred in cash from his wallet as well.

"I am Asp," said the snake-voice. "And as far as where you are, well…" and he motioned Stoner forward. "Welcome to Hell, Mr. Bryant." 

Too late, Beau remembered the man with the hypo.

*****