Chapter 1

Refuge Island

Jim had been waiting for this weekend all summer. He opened his eyes as a beam of morning light fell across his bed and the light wind ruffled the curtains filling the room with soft warmth. He sat up and breathed in deeply, already smiling to himself. Refuge Island! he thought, the last and best weekend of summer!

Ted rolled over in the twin bed next to Jim’s, groaning. “Ugh, what time is it?” he whined.

“It’s time to get up!” Jim exclaimed merrily, “A day boating on the bay and then camping on Refuge Island.”

“That makes waking up only slightly better,” Ted groaned, but he sat up and stretched, yawing expansively. “About a gallon of coffee might help,” he added, and abruptly rolled out of bed.

The brothers padded down the stairs and into the kitchen where an older woman was cleaning some dishes.

“Hey Aunt Eudora, how 'bout a cup of your famous  Java?” Ted asked cheerfully.

His aunt whirled around scowling, “How about you make it yourself?” she barked, “I’m your aunt, not some diner waitress you can order around.” She turned and went back to her dishes. “Jim knows how to make coffee, put him to good use for a change.”

“Will do, auntie!” Jim chirped, and went over to the stove and put a big kettle of water on the burner.

“What are you so darn chipper about this morning?” she snarled, “Did someone rob a bank last night?”

“Oh, no!” Jim exclaimed, “This isn’t about a new case. We are taking the boat out with our chums and then going camping on Refuge Island.”

A strange look crossed Aunt Eudora’s eyes, “Well be careful out there, it’s a strange place,” she muttered. “Also make sure you bring extra food if Chuck is going along.”

“Naturally,” Ted responded, sniffing the coffee Jim was brewing up, “We don’t want him dying of starvation or anything.”

A skeptical ‘hmm' was all Eudora had to say about that.

The boys helped themselves to some toast and butter and finished up the coffee. They had packed everything up the night before and just took the perishables out of the icebox into their cooler. Jim put on his grey shorts and a blue T-shirt, and Ted put on a gaudy red and white striped bathing suit.

Seeing Jim’s amused expression he explained “This way I’ll be maximally visible to boats.” They headed back down stairs to say their goodbyes to their aunt.

“We’ll be back Sunday morning!” Ted shouted to her as they plonked down to wait on the porch for their friends to pick them up. Chuck was the only one with an actual car and they did not want to lug all this gear down to the marina on foot.

“Great,” replied Eudora sarcastically, “I’ll just stay here alone and clean the kitchen and do laundry and try to cheat death for one more weekend.”

“Ok, see you then!” Jim yelled as the door slammed behind him.

******

Chuck pulled up in his hot, new red jalopy. He tipped his hat, “Chuck’s water taxi service, pick-up for two?”

“Sure enough, you goof” Ted chided. Two of their best chums, Vinnie and Buff, jumped out of the back seat to help them load everything into the trunk. Buff wore cut off jeans and a white t-shirt, ready for the water, and Vinnie had a onesie bathing suit with a shirt covering his upper body. Ted grabbed the front seat next to Chuck which left Jim with nowhere to sit.

“Um, do I get in the trunk, or will you guys swing by to get me later?” Jim mumbled, looking around.

Buff stuck his head out the window, smiling, “No problem, Jim, you’re so light you can just sit here on my lap!”

“Thanks, Buff, that’s great!” he said as he settled into Buff’s lap, trying not to squirm. As the car took off he was pressed back into Buff’s muscular frame. “Am I getting too heavy?” Jim asked.

“Nope,” Buff huffed, “but let’s see if you’re ticklish, though!” he started running his big fingers up and down Jim’s sides, causing him to roar with laughter. This went on for way too long, and eventually Ted turned to look back, exchanging a confused look with Vinnie.

“Ok, you guys, I think I’ve had as much tickling noise as I can handle,” Vinnie exclaimed. Buff relented and Jim relaxed.

“Thanks, Vinnie,” Jim sighed, “Buff’s jackknife was really starting to dig into my back!”

“But, I don’t have a…” Buff started to say when Chuck interrupted.

“Alright, everyone out, we’re here!

Jim reluctantly slid off of Buff’s lap, turning and smiling, “thanks, Buff!”

The chums unloaded the car in record time and lugged their gear over to the Darden berth in the marina. Vinnie gasped when he saw the new boat, “What a beauty!” he breathed, “Eudie’s Getabout? Where did that name come from?”

“Oh that’s named after our rich aunt, Eudora, she paid for the boat so our father named it after her,” Jim explained, “I doubt she’ll ever ride in it since hardly leaves the house.” He added, “Our father wanted to call it ‘The Sleuth’ but auntie vetoed that.”

“Wow, she didn’t strike me as the generous or kind sort,” Chuck huffed, “every time she sees me she tells me I need to go on a diet.”

“Yeah, she’s kind of a terrible person, but every so often she does something out of character,” Ted supplied. “We have to be nice to her so she doesn’t get mad at us and cut us out of the will.”

“It’s not always easy but you get used to it.” Jim added, “And now we have this swell boat!”

The crew loaded up the boat and jumped in excitedly. The sun was starting to really heat things up.

“This may well be the last hot weekend of the year,” Buff said ominously, “but school’s starting next week so we wouldn’t be able to enjoy it in any case,” he sighed.

“No talk of school or abusive aunts or anything else awful this weekend, ok?” Chuck demanded, “This weekend will be all fun, all the time. Got it?”

“Got it!” the four other boys agreed in unison. They had been friends for as long as they could remember, and all attended Bridgeport high together. Chuck and Ted were seventeen and going to start their final year of high school. Vinnie, Jim and Buff were a year and grade younger.

Chuck Borden was a tall and chunky “farm boy” with light brown hair and eyes. He also had a wicked, biting sense of humor but was loyal to the core. Buff Sayles was a consummate athlete and physical specimen, tall and muscular with jet black hair and dark brown eyes. He loved boxing, football and martial arts and could always be relied upon in a scrape. Vinnie Marinara was quite the contrast, thin and bookish, the son of recent immigrants from Italy with their characteristic olive skin, dark brown hair and eyes. He was a master of languages, fluent in both Italian and German in addition to his native tongue. Ted and Jim were brothers but looked nothing alike. Ted had dark hair and eyes, and was tall for his age. he was serious and hardworking, a natural leader, if a bit somber at times. Jim was a slight lad, on the shorter side and thin, but with striking blue eyes and straight blond hair. He was the most handsome one of the group, even if no one would venture to say it aloud. He also had an upbeat, cheerful personality that everyone loved being around.

The Eudie pulled out of her berth with Ted at the helm. They were all taken by the beauty of the boat, finished in polished cedar and brass, twenty feet long and built for speed.  She moved with such shimmying grace that piloting her through the port was as effortless as walking. Ted cranked up the throttle as they reached the open bay and the craft took off like a shot, bouncing joyfully through the waves. They spent a good few hours in the hot sun tooling around the bay and out to the ocean before turning towards their final destination: Refuge Island.

Refuge was set at the boundary between the bay, where the  gentle Pequonnock River emptied, and the open sea. At about five acres, it is not a large island, but it is surrounded by a white sandy beach, with the rest of the island largely grey rock. At the very center stands a peculiar rock formation called “The Beacon” or “The Chalice” for its cup-like structure.

They carefully moored the Eudie a bit offshore in a shallow spot where they could easily ferry their gear to shore. The island was completely deserted, as if no one could even see such a glorious spot. Instead of carefully setting up camp and pitching their tents first, as Ted suggested, the boys immediately made for the beach and dove into the surf to cool off. The water was at its warmest this time of year but was brisk none the less and there was some howling as they met the chill surf. After a half hour or so of swimming and splashing they rolled out their towels and beach blankets and lay on the hot sand.

Vinnie had a devilish smile on his face when he said, “Wait here guys, I’ll be right back!” He ran up to where there gear was stashed and pulled open a cooler, extracting a large glass jug and five stacked aluminum cups.

“Guess what boys, my papa gave me a bottle of his homemade white wine to cool us down on the beach Italian style!” he enthused.

“Whoa, he is now officially my favorite parent in all of Bridgeport!” Chuck laughed. “Let’s try it out since I am actually a bit parched, now that you mention it.”

Vinnie poured them each a cup of the cold wine. Before drinking they raised their glasses and Ted shouted “To Vinnie Senior and his fine wine!”

Everyone downed a big mouthful of the wine except Jim, who just looked down at it in confusion. “Isn’t alcohol, like completely illegal?” he asked sheepishly.

“Not if you’re Catholic!” Vinnie chuckled, smiling broadly. “Also it’s legal if you make a small amount at home at don’t sell it.”

“And also,” Chuck drawled, “who gives a damn if it illegal, it’s a stupid law in any case.”

“You don’t have to drink it if you don’t want to Jim, don’t sweat it,” Buff added helpfully.

“Well, I guess if I convert to Catholicism for the day it’s ok, right?” Jim asked.

“Absolutely,” Vinnie assured him, “Ego te absolvo,” he intoned, making the sign of the cross, “You are now cleared to have some wine.

“Ok, here I go!” Jim said hesitantly, but taking a big gulp, “Wow, that’s good!” he blurted, “Your father is a talented wine-guy!”

They all laughed at Jim’s infectious enthusiasm. “Just go easy with it, Jim,” said the ever cautious Ted, “You’re probably 130 pounds, soaking wet so that Italian thunder will go right to your head if you’re not careful.”

They reclined on their towels facing the bay and the now descending sun. Ted felt such a sense of calm and peace being with his friends out on the water. “Days sure are are getting shorter,” he sighed. “You know guys, I can honestly say I don’t have a care in the world.” Ted sighed, “Though I get the feeling this may be the last time I ever say something like that,” he chuckled.

“Who are you and what have you done with Ted?” Chuck joked, poking Ted a bit. Everyone laughed, “In all seriousness,” Chuck smiled, “I do know what you mean, it’s so calm and beautiful out here having wine by the wine-dark sea that it’s hard to feel anything but peaceful and relaxed.”

They spent the dwindling hours of the day sprawled out on the beach or in the surf. Buff and Jim had a game to see how high Buff could hurl the smaller boy out of the water and into the air, before he came crashing down into the dark water, screaming with laughter.

Jim came out of the surf, gasping and giggling and beamed at Buff’s handsome, smiling face.

“You’re so light, but so strong!” Buff chuckled. “I wonder why you don’t try out for the swim team?”

“I never thought much about it, but I feel like I’m a better swimmer out here than in a pool,” he mused, “I think I’m more at home in the surf, in any case, I feel so energized in the wild water!” he laughed.

Buff put his big hands around Jim’s torso as if to heave him again, but held onto him instead. As Jim looked him in the eyes, there was a strange tug in his chest. It felt both amazing and dangerous, like he was crossing the boundary into some new and exotic land. Buff moved his hands down under the water to Jim’s stomach, rubbing his abdomen. “You have amazing tone, Jim,” he said, as if sizing up the flanks on a horse, but it felt completely different, like he was being cherished, coveted.

Jim kept his gaze locked on Buff’s deep, intense, hazel eyes, “That feels funny, but nice,” he gasped, shivering.

The spell was broken by Chuck’s annoying voice, braying, “Are you tadpoles gonna stay in there all day waltzing or help us set up camp and make dinner?”

“Right!” Buff yelled back, releasing Jim’s frame. He looked down one last time at Jim’s cornflower eyes and whispered, “Later!”

******

They soon all gave in to Ted’s sound advice to make up camp while the sun was still shining. Jim and Buff set about gathering driftwood for a fire and Chuck got the the grill together for making supper.

“I literally can’t believe I have gone this long without sustenance!” Chuck mused aloud, “Skipping lunch is simply not something I do.” He make a little tsking sound. “I am going to have to make up for this at supper.”

While Chuck was busy grilling a big chicken he had taken from his farm, Buff and Ted took a walk around the island. The sun was setting over the far-away coast making every rock glow red and orange and the ocean appear black as night. Above them the strange structure known as The Beacon appeared unaffected by the light, as if it resided in another dimension of its own. Both boys stared up at it, strangely drawn to its shadowy strangeness, mirroring the sea.

“Let’s go check it out!” Ted suggested.

They climbed up the steep slope and the pillar-like rock formation that The Beacon rested on. The closer they got the more unnatural the structure seemed, in contrast to so many other natural oddities that become more mundane the closer one gets to them.

Buff reached out to touch the base of the cauldron-like artifact and gasped. A jolt passed through his hand and run down his arm, leaving it feeling warm and tingly.

He lurched back, “Oh God, that’s weird!” he panted, “it feels almost like there is some electric current running through it!” He turned, “Why don’t you…”

Ted leaned in and pressed his hand to it, determined not to jerk back. The same rush of energy flooded his body, but he kept his hand pressed to the Beacon. He felt his sight go dark and the stars appear around them. The Beacon burst alight, and eerie green flames leapt from its bowl into the black night. Buff was no longer next to him, but at his side there were three other indistinct human forms arranged around the base of the structure. He turned to his right to see the face of Iona Borden looking back at him, straining with effort. “I wonder what happens when we take our hands away?” she smiled, breathing heavily.

Ted pulled his hand off with an effort and was immediately back in the golden world of late-day summer sun.

“…touch it?” Buff asked.

“Ok,” Ted gasped, “that was not normal.” he turned to look at Buff with a cold, serious expression. “I had some kind of fainting spell when I touched it, like a little dream. The Beacon was all lit up and Iona Borden was right here!” He pointed to a spot by his right.

“Ha! Iona? I think maybe you had too much of that communion wine if you’re dreaming about her!” Buff guffawed.

“Alright,” Ted spat, irritated, “I dare you to put your hand back there and hold it as long as you can.”

Buff leaned in and placed his palm on the rock. Less than a second passed before he pulled it off. He staggered back and turned to stare at Ted, a look of total shock on his face.

“Maybe I had too much wine too,” he whispered, “I saw the same thing as you but Jeff Glaston was standing next to me!”

“The guy on the baseball team?” Ted asked, furrowing his brow, “That’s just so strange. Do you even know him?”

Buff stared at Ted, “No, not really.” he sighed as if exhausted, “I think we need something to eat,” he added “Let’s keep this between ourselves, right?”

“Agreed,” Ted said, “I don’t even know how to begin telling someone about this without sounding completely crazy.”

Chapter 2

Strange Tales and Strange Bedfellows

The wine soon ran out and the rest of the evening flew by as the sun descended and the stars appeared. Luckily, there was plenty of driftwood to keep the fire going strongly and it crackled away merrily, urged on by the strong breeze blowing through the sea roses and wild mint that grew along the beach.

“I know a bank where the wild thyme blows, where oxlips and the nodding violet grows,” Chuck intoned, gravely.

Ted and Chuck had just finished the obligatory ‘Survey of British Literature’ class all juniors at Bridgeport High had to take. It started with a lot of poems and then moved to a lot of Shakespeare. Ted had dutifully suffered through it, while Chuck had used it as a means of making himself even more insufferable.

“Alright, Oberon,” laughed Ted, "it’s good that you have a quote for every occasion, but around a fire in the isolated wilderness we need a scary story.”

“Don’t ask me,” Buff said, “I’m just a dumb jock!”

“You’re not dumb!” Jim scowled, under his breath. Chuck and Ted shared a glance between them.

“Here’s something scary: what will the outhouse look like when we leave after consuming two pounds of bacon for dinner?” Vinnie  offered, giggling.

“I personally don’t want to contemplate that,” Chuck said as if it offended him deeply, “but I do have a scary tale, even if it’s a confusing one, told to me by my own father a few weeks before he died.” Chuck said, suddenly serious, “He claimed it was history, not fiction, and it took place on this very island.”

“Well, do tell then!” Ted encouraged.

Chuck leaned back on his driftwood seat and stared up at the stars, thinking about his father for a bit. He wiped his eyes and started.

“The year was 1638 when our fair city was founded, two hundred and eighty years ago. The town fathers left Massachusetts because they wanted to be closer to God and Boston was just too worldly for them.”

“Too much chowder not enough witch burning, I’d guess,” Jim offered.

“Precisely,” Chuck sniffed, annoyed at the interruption. “But you fellows are all aware of the details of our town’s founding, aren’t you?”

“Well, we did have the glories of our ancestors drilled into our skulls year after year,” Ted agreed, “Even if they didn’t seem like the nicest people.”

“I can only imagine history has been kinder to them than they deserved,” Chuck huffed. “That said, according to my dear departed father, the stories they tell us in school are not just overly generous in their tone, but factually incorrect too, especially when it comes to the origins of Bridgeport.”

He leaned in, “You have all heard, for example, that the lovely bayside location of our city was already inhabited when we arrived…”

The Quinnipiac!” Jim interjected.

“Exactly,” Chuck continued, giving Jim the slightest of glares, “and they were apparently in dire straights, fearing for their lives as our fathers’ ships landed…”

“The Pequot were attacking them!” Jim blurted.

“Jim, if you interrupt me one more time I am going to bind and gag you and then throw you in the tent until morning!” Chuck barked.

“Sorry, I just like history,” Jim said, cowed, “I’ll be good,” he added, sitting on his hands as if that would help.

“You weren’t just being rude, but also spouting incorrect information, according to my dear father’s telling of it.” Chuck continued.

“You see the Quinnipiac were not fearing for their lives from some other Indian tribe, but from a group of very creepy creatures that seemed to come from beneath their settlement on the bay itself, right where Bridgeport is today.”

"According to the legend passed down to my father, it began with a few missing Quinnipiac children in the dead of winter, taken suddenly while at play. Soon adults began to behave strangely, wandering off on their own, only to return and assault other family members. The returnees often appeared incoherent and unaware of who the people they were attacking actually were, but they still had memories they could draw on to trick them into welcoming them back. It was terrifying, but it hadn’t yet reached the level where they felt they needed to abandon their settlement. He did say that a pervading sense of dread overtook the community, such that people were afraid to venture out even in broad daylight, and some people even began to starve, such was their fear.”

Chuck paused dramatically and looked around the fire at each person.

“Then, one evening, all at once, monstrous creatures began to pour from cracks in the ground and caves around the bay. These were not returned Indians, but many were human-like. Most were wretched, distorted combinations of animals and humans, in garb from a wide range of local tribes. It was as if someone who didn’t quite understand how living things worked was molding facsimiles of nature that could never exist in reality.”

“The creatures wandered around town, oblivious to the humans around them, eventually gathering together in the main lodge house of the town with several of the ‘returned’ Indians in their midst. The stench was unbearable, rotting flesh and foul mud filled the air of the village. As midnight approached, the monsters clustered closer together and grasped each other. They began moaning, shaking and shuddering, making some horrible alien music together. The human villagers began feeling sick, and prepared to leave, but they were torn between the fear of the creatures and the danger of wandering into the territory of their traditional enemies, the Pequot.“

Jim looked around the group knowingly at the mention of the Pequot, but was smart enough to hold his tongue.

“Soon, people began feeling worse, ill even, some vomiting and fainting at the horrible feeling and repellent singing coming from the lodge. Then, right at dawn, as if a signal had been given, the creatures began pouring out of the structure and attacking the people, biting them and sucking their blood. The Quinnipiac fought back with stone-tipped spears and bows, but the creatures seemed unaffected by the weapons. It was horrifying, and people began staggering towards to bay, already too weak to run very fast.”

“As luck would have it, it was then that the English settlers arrived in their rowboats, landing amongst the villagers. Seeing what was taking place and horrified at the scene, they began attacking the creatures with shot and swords. Their iron weapons had a massive impact, and the creatures were essentially disintegrating as they were hit, returning to the fish and mud from which they were made. The ones that were not wounded began fleeing and eventually crawled back into the cracks and caves from which they had originated.”

Chuck took a deep breath, and looked around, gratified that the others were hanging on his every word.

“A Wampanoag man was with the English, and he could communicate with the Quinnipiac easily. They told him the story and he passed this on to the men from Massachusetts colony. The chief of the Quinnipiac said that the English could settle the areas provided they offered then protection as they had today, both from the creatures and from the Pequot. It was agreed and the English began to the build the town that would become Bridgeport, with the Indians on the other side of the bay, away from the accursed area whence the creatures had emanated.”

“Things seem to settle down to something resembling normalcy, with the English building on one side of the bay and the Indians on the other. The Pequot left them both alone and there was peace for several years. The trauma of the founding events was never far from their memories, and it drew the English and Indians together into a closer knit group than was usual, they both having common enemies, the creatures and the Pequot.”

Chuck paused and looked around him at the beach. “This is the part where we get to Refuge Island,” he said, a bit dramatically, and continued.

“A few years after the founding an Englishman named Nathan Hathaway came down the Pequonnock River on a raft, along with several Mahican Indians. They were from the Housatonic region in south western Massachusetts and had a lot to talk about. Having heard rumors about the traumatic events of the founding, they related that something similar had happened to their town. Furthermore, that the Mahican had a long history of conflict with the creatures, and called them the Windigo, or ‘spirits of hunger’. They would emerge from the ground periodically, especially when the tribe was weak from hunger at the end of winter. They stole children and possessed adults, eventually returning underground. He warned the settlers of Bridgeport that they would not be safe for long, and to prepare. Part of the preparation involved a ‘warding’ that could keep the Windigo sealed up underground indefinitely, but that it was a long term process.

“The people of Providence, Rhode Island had also experienced Windigo attacks and had become expert in defeating them. The visitor suggested they find a place of refuge, preferably in the water, since the Windigo are deathly afraid of water. The people of Bridgeport worked with them to identify this island as a good candidate, and helped construct the beacon as a way of signaling to Providence that they were under attack. He left town thereafter, heading to Providence to alter them to what had transpired in Bridgeport.”

“Sure enough, the very next winter children began disappearing from town, and the foul acrid stench of the Windigo began to ooze from the earth. The people of the town started patrolling at night, with iron swords and shotguns. They even provided children with iron rods in case of attack. The creatures were crafty though, and had begun infiltrating the town and possessing key people. This time the creatures had changed how they worked, so that they would possess a person and observe the others quietly for weeks. In this way they could imitate the mannerisms and speech of the person more effectively. Thus becoming very difficult to detect.”

“So, when the big attack came it took everyone by surprise. Several town leaders had been taken over and they made sure to lock up the guns and iron swords in storage and conceal the keys. Unable to resist the attack, the people of Bridgeport and the Quinnipiac fled to the edge of the frozen bay to the boats they had secured there and the majority managed to escape to Refuge Island. It was not easy. On the way out in the boats a Windigo possessing the town’s first selectman, William Harding, attacked the people in the boat and killed several. He was eventually thrown overboard and died immediately upon entering the water, screaming horribly.”

The four chums were practically holding their breath at this point, imagining the boats coming towards the island in the dead of winter, not knowing who among them was still human.

Ted ventured a question, “Chuck, did your father really think this was something other than a scary story?”

Chuck let out a long breath, “I believe that he believed it. He told me it more as a warning than as entertainment, like it was his duty to pass this information on.” He paused a bit, “But then I was ten years old, and it may have seemed more serious than it was.” He looked up at the stars for a bit and said, “It gets even weirder now.” He straightened up and returned to his tale.

“On Refuge Island the remaining town leaders gathered and lit the Beacon. My father said he wasn’t sure how they lit it, or what was burning. Some tales said it was lit through some unknown means that night, without any fuel, brighter than any fire could have done. My father explicitly mentioned that as soon as the beacon was lit a man in their midst suddenly dropped dead. He was apparently the last possessed man to make it to the island.”

“Having been forewarned, they had stored tents and provisions on the island, and they were able to survive for a time despite the cold. The villagers waited three days until a fleet of ships finally arrived from the east. The people from Providence were greeted with great relief. The Providence leader, Charles Hester, insisted that they all move immediately to attack the Windigo, before they could infiltrate the Pequot as well and build a permanent presence above ground.”

“They made for shore at dawn the next morning. They saw nothing in their town or the Quinnipiac village, so they headed north up the river towards the Pequot fort. Sure enough, the creatures were actively attacking the Pequot and had gained mightily in number. The combined English and Quinnipiac force attacked the Windigo from behind, pinning them against the fort. The iron swords and shot devastated the monsters, who had grown strong off the corpses of the Pequot. The Pequot themselves had some effective attacks as well, holding clubs with iron nails embedded into them. It was clear they had come into conflict with the Windigo before.”

“The creatures, under attack from two sides, fled towards the west, in the direction of the river, and became trapped even worse against the bank. They were unable to enter the waters, and unable to break out against the combined attack. At this moment something very strange occurred. As the Windigo approached the waters a group of tall, pale and beautiful human shapes emerged from beneath the current and walked on the surface of the river towards the trapped monsters. Each one attacked the Windigo as they strode, some by agitating the waters before them to make waves that crashed upon the monsters, others seemed to be pushing the air itself, flinging the creatures with their will, and yet others pulled the monsters from the bank and into the depths with a motion of their hands.”

“Very soon after this third assault the battle ended: there were no Windigo remaining. The silence that followed was tense. Here you had two historic enemy tribes gathered together, not to mention the water men and women standing on the surface of the river as if it were a regular road, staring across at the assembled group.”

“One of the watermen strode forward and the Providence leader Charles Hester went out to meet him on the bank, as if he knew who we was. They exchanged some words and the waterman reached beneath the surface of the river and brought forth a glimmering block of brilliant metal, handing it to Hester, who staggered beneath its weight. The watermen departed as suddenly as they arrived, diving beneath the waters, and the towns were safe again.”

“Hester gave the metal to the townsfolks, informing them that it was of paramount importance. Used in the proper way it could be made into artifacts that would keep the monsters from emerging. Further, a single touch from a artifact made with the metal would instantly kill a Windigo.”

“The folks from Providence stayed for a few more days to help the villages recover, and to instruct a select group of people in everything he knew about the creatures from under the earth. The Pequot never recovered from the attack; they burned their fort to the ground before dispersing, never to be heard from again. The saviors from Providence eventually departed, and the folks of Bridgeport and their allies never again had to fight the deadly Windigo.”

There was an appreciative silence at the conclusion to the tale, and it was clear each of the boys was thinking about what it meant.

“It’s a very creative re-telling of the major events of the town’s early history, I’ll give you that!” Ted finally muttered. “It jibes with historical events, like the Pequot war, and the founding of the town, but gives a very different set of reasons for the outcome.” he added. “Why do you think your father told you this when he did?”

“I think it had to do with the Great Flu, honestly,” Chuck said seriously, “Not that he knew he was going to die, since it was before he even got sick, but because there was so much news of it, and everyone was thinking they could be next.” He sighed, “In his case it was true,” he finished, wiping his eyes a bit. “Like I said before it was almost like he felt that he had to pass this on, that it was a duty more than a scary story.”

There was another contemplative silence after that, broken when Jim jumped up and said, “Well, I don’t know about you guys but I’m bushed. See you in the morning!” At that he grabbed his sleeping bag and disappeared into one of the two tents.

Buff got up and stretched extravagantly, “I’m wiped out too,” he said, “if you guys run into any trouble just light the beacon.” It was said in jest, but remembering what he had experienced earlier, a strange little look ran across his face, that only Ted picked up on .”

To both Chuck and Ted’s surprise he went over and dragged his bedroll into Jim’s tent.

“I guess the Darden boys get to sleep in different rooms for a change.” Chuck observed.

******

Buff opened the tent door and rolled his sleeping bag out next to Jim’s. Jim looked up sleepily and then sat up when he saw who it was.

“Hey, Buff, hittin’ the sack already?” he drawled. Buff just nodded. Jim watched intently as Buff took off his shirt and pants, and sat on his sleeping bag in just his skivvies.

Buff turned suddenly to look down intensely at Jim, rearing up on his knees, his face furrowed.

“Now I’ve got you just where I want you, little Jim,” he purred.

“What?” yelped Jim as Buff descended on him. He crooked his fingers and began wiggling them up and down Jim’s flanks, tickling him until Jim was screaming in laughter, “Oh my God please stop it” he howled, “That’s too much!” It went on for some time.

Out at the fire, Vinnie looked back and forth between Chuck and Ted and sighed, “Well, guys, looks like I’m bunking in your tent tonight,” he grunted.

******

The morning dawned with a coarse, wet coat of icy fog, blowing in from the Atlantic. The boys slowly crawled from their cocoons, one by one, to grimace at the grim new day.

“Ugh, this is a change for the worst!” Chuck groaned, “Luckily we know the bay inch by inch or it would be a heck of a time getting back in this mess.”

“Who knows, maybe it’ll blow off before we leave, otherwise, yeah, it’s going to be a real slog.” Buff added, glumly.

They ate a cold breakfast of bread and butter and loaded up the boat quickly. None of them were prepared for the cold and Jim, in particular, had gotten a pretty serious sunburn and was shivering with every gust from the Atlantic.

“After yesterday’s heat the last thing I expected for today was to be freezing,” he huffed. Buff tossed him his light jacket and Jim bundled it around him gratefully.

As soon as they pushed off into the bay they were engulfed in a blanket of grey. There was no sense of where the land was or the open ocean, or even the ability to see obstacles a few feet away.

“Did anyone bring a compass?“ Ted asked, guiding the boat slowly away from the island. No one responded. “I have an idea,” he said, turning of the motor completely., to the confusion of the other passengers. When the boat came to a complete stop, Ted licked his finger and tested the wind direction. “Ok, the wind seems to be coming directly from the south, from the open ocean, so we need to head away from that, towards shore.

Buff jumped in, “I also here the Point Light foghorn. Listen!”

Sure enough the foghorn was barely audible off to the left, on the west side of the bay entrance.

“So,” Jim chimed in, “if we keep the foghorn to our left and the wind behind us we should be heading into the bay!”

“There’s one problem with that,” Chuck sighed, “We can’t feel the wind when the boat os moving and we can’t hear the foghorn over the engine. Unless we plan on paddling that’s not going to help much.”

“How about this,” Ted mused, “I know which way to go at this point, so I will point us in that direction and keep us at a constant five miles per hour with the steering wheel locked straight ahead.” He passed to think a bit, “After ten minutes we’ll stop again and make sure we are still on track.”

“Probably the best we can do,” Chuck agreed, “Let’s just hope there are no snags or other boats in front of us.”

Jim added, “Let’s not go anywhere again without a compass, alright?” The other chuckled a bit and agreed.

They proceeded according to plan, stopping every half mile to adjust course. Chuck nervously perched in the bow to scan the waters ahead, searching for anything in the water they needed to avoid.

It was in the third leg of their plan, right in the middle of the bay, when Chuck cried out, “Stop Ted, there’s something ahead!”

Ted killed the engine and ran in reverse a bit to stop them dead. Chuck peered ahead into the gloom.

“God, what’s that smell!” Buff groaned. Jim covered his mouth with his jacket sleeve and Chuck put his hands over his nose.

“Ted, hard to port!” Chuck yelled, “There’s something floating in the water here.

At this moment the wind increased and the fog began to dissipate, revealing a ghastly scene before them. The water ahead churned in a massive upwell, seeming to come from deep within the bay. The water was a bruise-like purple, as if suffused with decaying blood. Within it were what looked like gobs of flesh, at times resembling body parts of humans and animals. The stench increased, the reek of rotting corpses filled the air with a charnal house intensity.

Ted backed off further. As the fog evaporated, the whole picture became clearer. Chuck vomited abruptly over the side of the boat. Wiping his mouth, he spat, “What the hell is this?”

Gulls began to decend on the the upwelling, catching the scent of carrion, and dove towards the swirling mass. As soon as they entered the area above the bloody waters they went instantly limp, as if poisoned, and plunging lifelessly into the mass of decaying flesh and seawater.

“We had better stay well clear of that,” Ted shouted over the wind, “It must be emitting some kind of toxic fumes or gas.”

Right then Chuck reared up, “Ted!” he pointed down into the water over the side of the boat, “Ted! There’s something huge rising just below us!”

They felt the boat shift quickly to the right and lift partially out of the water. “Hang on!” Buff yelled. The craft righted itself and Ted turned up the throttle, trying to leave the area, but before they got anywhere an enormous whale surfaced directly next to them lolling on the surface and turning slowly as if dying. The blowhole rolled to the surface as it spun and a blast of water shot out of it above the whale, followed immediately into by a gout of thick arterial blood.

They felt, rather than heard, the death moan of the whale, shuddered beneath them and shaking the boat with its intensity. Ted finally had the boat stable enough to gun the engine. “Hold on boys, we’re getting out of here fast!” he yelled.

The Getabout leap into motion, pushing everyone back into their seats. Jim ventured a look back and gasped to see a deformed human corpse swirling in the water next to him, pushed outwards from the upswell current. In an instant it was gone and they were clear of the area.

They flew across the waves in silence for many long minutes, until the structures on the port and the tall buildings of Bridgeport began to appear reassuringly  before them in the distance. Ted stopped the engine and they all turned to face each other.

“What in the hell was that?” Buff gasped, “I have never seen anything like it, or even heard of anything like it!”

“All I can think of is that there must have been some toxic material released beneath the bay,” Ted hypothesized, always the logical one, “and that it was killing everything that came into contact with it. Maybe a vent from beneath the floor of the bay?”

“But, I swear I saw human body parts in it!” Chuck exclaimed, “They weren’t just sea creatures.”

“Exactly!” Jim burst in, “I swear I saw a human corpse clear as day floating in the water as we were leaving. It looked distorted and deformed, but human!”

“Well, I’m sure as hell not going back out there,” Buff added, shivering, “We can try and explain it to the port authorities but we are going to sound like lunatics describing it.”

“Yeah, said Ted, sullenly, “Maybe we should sit on this until we understand more.” With that, he started the engine and began the last leg back to the marina.

A full understanding of the weekend’s events would a long time coming.

Full novel coming Fall 2026