Free Billy: A Tale Of Unrelenting Terror by Clayton Spriggs

the man met a gruesome fate as the meal of a hungry predator. It was only assumed that the guilty party had been an alligator of gigantic proportions, although whispers of another unknown beast made their way around.
    Dean remembered the sensation of being watched when he came upon the scene and it made him shudder. He never saw whatever it was that had given him that feeling, but lately his slumber was haunted by visions of a demonic spirit gazing upon him from the darkness of the swamp. He promptly dismissed his misgivings, realizing how childish they were and changed the subject.
    "You’re alright, Nick," Dean said. "I guess you know there’s talk going on about you behind your back."
    Nick nodded, but kept quiet.
    "Typical shit about your stint in Internal Affairs and all. I want you to know none of that shit means nothin’ to me. From what I’ve heard about Orleans Parish, someone had to take a stand. The way I figure it, if you’ve got nothin’ to hide, there’s nothin’ to worry about."
    "Everyone’s got something to hide, Dean. I don’t care about any of that now, anyway. I’m not here for that. I’m here to help out in whatever way I can. Right now, I’m here to find those kids and anyone else that might be missing. I just hope I don’t run into that monster in the process."
    The two men laughed again.
    "Yeah, it does sound kind of stupid," Dean said, shaking his head. "Those rumors have been going around for awhile now, but ever since the storms hit, everyone seems to get in on it. I don’t know if it’s because everything is so uncertain now or because of some kind of post traumatic stress, but people are swearing they’ve seen or heard all of these ridiculous things. I put most of the blame on that girl they found."
    Nick almost choked on the crawfish tail in his mouth.
    "Girl?" he asked. "What girl?"
    "I know what you’re thinking, but don’t read too much into it, Nick," Dean tried to explain. "There’s some girl that was found a couple of months ago that was lost in the swamp. No one really knows who she is, but she ain’t exactly the best historian. They got her locked up in the mental ward over at St. Elizabeth’s. She claims that there is some monster that lives in an old plantation in the swamp and hunts and kills people for sport. Fuel to the fire is all I can say. Never mind we live in the twenty-first century and never mind how many times I’ve tried to tell people there are no such things as swamp monsters or whatever. Instead, these dumbass inbred hicks believe some outlandish story told by some nut in the loony bin. Go figure."
    Dean gulped down the last of his beer and headed for the bathroom leaving Nick alone at the table. What the hell has he gotten himself into? Ghosts, unknown creatures, plantations in the swamp inhabited by monsters, insane ramblings by an unknown lunatic in the local asylum; one theory more ridiculous than the next and at the heart of his budding investigation, the situation almost made Nick choke. He contemplated how likely it was that he was being set up in some elaborate prank. Either way, he concluded that he would be visiting a special guest of St. Elizabeth’s Mental Health Unit before long. If the joke was on him, he only hoped that, at the end, they would all be laughing. Deep inside something told him that there was going to be nothing funny about it.
     
     

Chapter Thirteen
    St. Elizabeth’s
    T he best word Nicholas could use to describe the facilities at St. Elizabeth’s Institute for the Mentally Ill was ‘creepy’. Although it was built in the nineteen twenties, the Victorian architecture gave it a haunted house feel. Nick thought that, even when it was newly constructed, the building probably looked old. He was no expert in mental health, but Nick questioned the wisdom of housing paranoid schizophrenics in such a setting.
    The interior of the building is not any better than the exterior, thought Nick. Even with the occasional modern