Billy: A Tale Of Unrelenting Terror Read Online Free PDF Page B

perched in the center of the passageway. He pulled up alongside the gas truck and parked.
    Deputy Arceneaux stepped out of his vehicle and shone his police-issued spotlight into the driver’s side window. The truck was empty, so he crept up toward the traffic cone in the street. The deputy spotted another cone lying on its side at the side of the road, almost in the marsh. He cautiously approached the site, swinging his light slowly side-to-side in an attempt to examine his surroundings in the dark. The truck’s inhabitant was nowhere in sight.
    Dean looked at the fallen cone at his feet. He could see some tracks in the mud, but was unable to determine if they belonged to the missing workman or one of the unsavory denizens that inhabited the swamp. The deputy shone his flashlight over the water to see if anything lurked under the dark surface, but all was quiet. If it weren’t for the truck and two cones, he might have passed the site up altogether.
    "Weird," Dean whispered to himself in the dark.
    He felt an uneasy sensation sweep over him and shuddered. For some reason, he had the disturbing feeling that something was watching him from the shadowy wetlands. The deputy backed away slowly and began to turn when he saw the unmistakable signs of something gone horribly wrong.
    Blood was splattered on the reeds to the side of the road – a lot of it. Dean swallowed hard and shone his light back into the dark swamp beyond the Spanish moss hanging from the cypress trees that surrounded him. The blood trail disappeared into the mist toward the unseen eyes that he could feel peering at him from the blackness.
    By the time the sun rose over the horizon, the entire area on Bayou Pigeon Road was alive with activity. The State Police, Search and Rescue Units, and even some boys from the Wildlife and Fisheries Division had descended on the desolate location to aid in the investigation, all under the watchful eye of Sheriff Bobby Galliano.
    Just as Deputy Arceneaux had reported, an abandoned truck was found parked in the middle of the narrow roadway a few yards from an orange traffic cone standing tall in the middle of the road and another toward the edge of the marsh tipped on its side. Steps from the fallen cone, a blood trail led into the overgrown marsh at the edge of the roadway. No further signs of the missing man could be found.
    The area was now partitioned off, and men were assigned to search different quadrants in the hope of picking up whatever trail they might find. By the amount of blood splattered along the roadside, it was doubtful to those present that they would find anything but a mangled corpse.
    "Damndest thing ever," Galliano said to no one in particular. "Surely there must be something left of the poor bastard."
    "That’s what I was thinking," Dean agreed. "I got here pretty quick after the call came out. I’m sure whatever grabbed him took off in a hurry when I pulled up, thank God. Still, I don’t see how there’d be no sign of the body."
    Sheriff Galliano grunted and scanned the horizon. Some local fishermen had shown up and were carefully guiding their boats under the supervision of the Wildlife and Fisheries authorities. Many of the men were carrying long metal poles that they used to poke and prod around in the murky water, hoping to snag onto something and jar it loose toward the surface. Particular attention was paid to the immediate section of marsh covered in dried blood. Despite the dozens of men actively engaged in the task, no sign of the missing man could be found.
    "Do you think we should find a few divers to go down and look?" asked one of the State Troopers.
    Dean almost laughed at the absurd suggestion before catching himself and turning away. Galliano stared at the man with an expression that was a combination of amazement and contempt, shaking his head. A few of the local fishermen close enough to have heard the comment laughed and muttered a few choice comments in Cajun French under their