Humacabra: The Curse of Watering Hole

By D K Alvey

Have you ever wondered what people who live in small towns do? At first glance, Watering Hole is a quaint little settlement like most in Middle America. A single main street runs through it. There are a handful of well-kept older houses and lawns, friendly neighbors (folks who are always willing to help their neighbor in need), and kids that say, “Yes, ma’am,” “No, ma’am,” and “Yes, sir,” “No, sir.” But something isn’t quite as it seems on the surface. Something is really quite different and not so quaint about Watering Hole. What is lurking below the surface? Come along with the author as she spins her nightmare into the world.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Oct 29, 2021
• ISBN: 9781664194519

D K Alvey

This is the first time the author has attempted to publish her writings. Native to the Midwest, she, until recently, resided in Maryland, just northwest of the Baltimore and DC areas. Presently, she enjoys the quiet life of the small southern community in Kentucky. Residing with her husband, they share the habits of taking walks in the woodlands surrounding the community and of venturing out to discover quaint back roads in the area. They are always on the hunt for interesting places to visit, as well as, good dining establishments. Photography and writing are her most avid hobbies. Her inspiration for the book actually came from a nightmare inspired by her son and two grandsons. The three gentlemen are heavily into zombie lore and military video games. No better way to discover mutant monsters.

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Copyright © 2021 by D K Alvey.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted

in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying,

recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system,

without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the

product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance

to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Rev. date: 10/29/2021

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CONTENTS

Prologue

Martin Arrives

The Meeting

The Cavern

Changing Of The Guard

Dream Weaver

Birth Of The HUMACABRA

Ghost Town

The Beginning Of The End

The Hunting Grounds

The Need To Feed

A Call To Arms

The Hunt Is On

A Long Journey

Death’s Den

The Battle Begins

Home

To my boys, Matt, Kaynin, and Kamron

Thanks for the nightmare. All my love to you.

We dare not tempt them with weakness. For only when our arms are sufficient beyond doubt can we be certain beyond doubt that they will never be employed.--John F. Kennedy

PROLOGUE

Watering Hole, a small insignificant town in Middle America, is where nothing of importance ever happens or has happened. It’s a place, in times past, where travelers might have stopped to water their horses. As a matter of fact, that’s how the town got its name. The town lies on the border of two townships between two counties in the middle of nowhere. There are no churches, schools, banks, bars, or anything of significance here except for a lone general store and a tiny community of simple homes. Also located here is a small gas station/garage with a stone and timber exterior. Which, in times past, was the town’s tavern and courthouse. The rural post office is still connected to the back of the general store. The general store is the hub of the nondescript hamlet.

The postmaster, to any unsuspecting stranger, is a somewhat friendly but a serious gentleman by the name of Martin Phillips. With a slight gruffness in his voice, he has a friendly smile and a Hi there for all who come in for their mail. Martin, although not the first postmaster of Watering Hole, will be its last. Martin served in the military during the Vietnam War; he had enlisted at 17, just after graduating high school. Growing up in an orphanage, the army became his new family. It is his life and career. While in the army, he received his college degrees and was recruited into the Special Forces. After training and being newly commissioned, the Vietnam War veteran was sent to where his skills to command were put to the test and refined. Toward the end of the war, he was asked to take part in a new, mysteriously secret government project.

Assigned back to the states and stationed at an obscure post in this small town, he rejoined his battlefield friend and mentor, Maj. Linden Lindy Wayne. Lindy, although ten years older, had been his best friend and brother in Nam. He advised Martin on the fine points of command and, during their R and R time: women. Watering Hole is where Martin meets the very attractive research scientist, Sally Goodwin, PhD; she will become the love of his life. Sally, a very kindhearted and understanding person, always gave people a benefit of the doubt and never turned anyone in real need away. She’s a saint, Martin would always say.

The garage/gas station is tended by Andrew Wayne, Lindy’s son. After school and on weekends, the savvy high-school senior was able to demonstrate his keen knowledge and abilities with anything mechanical. At the compound, he mostly fixes flats, changes oil, and does minor auto tune ups. On occasion, he pumps gas from one of the two pumps out front. Andrew has set his sights on West Point after high school graduation. He, like his father, intends to be a career soldier.

At first glance, Watering Hole is a quaint little settlement like most in Middle America. A single main street running through it. There are a handful of well-kept older houses and lawns, friendly neighbors, and kids who say, Yes, ma’am, No, ma’am,; and Yes, sir, No, sir. On Sundays, most attend services at churches in neighboring communities. Folks here were always willing to help their neighbor in need. But something isn’t quite as it seems on the surface. Something is really quite different and not so quaint about Watering Hole...

MARTIN ARRIVES

1973

The Greyhound bus, speckled with several days of road dust and mud around its fenders, rolled slowly down the tree-lined street of the sleepy town. The town wasn’t a regular stop on the bus line. But on occasion, someone would get off at this remote stop far from the main highways. It crept past neatly kept older homes; homes with freshly mowed lawns, a basketball hoop over the garage door, a bicycle leaning up against a fence, and fragrant scents wafting up from front yard gardens.

Peering out the open window, Capt. Martin Phillips thought this could be any small town in America. The bus pulled up and stopped in front of a large white building. It proudly displayed an American flag that was softly waving on a prominent pole.

Watering Hole, announced the driver to the nearly empty bus as he opened the door. All passengers not exiting, we will be continuing on directly, said the driver. The slightly paunchy, middle-aged bus driver spoke with a Midwest twang. He had twisted around in his seat to address his passengers, right arm slung over the back of the seat. He then re-positioned himself, turned back around and peeked into the rear-view mirror. The driver glanced around into it to see if his special passenger stirred. When he saw that he had the captain’s attention, the driver got up, stepped off the bus, hitched up his pants with both hands, and proceeded to the luggage compartment at the side of the Grey Hound bus.

Martin slid to the far side of his seat, stepped into the aisle, and stood up. Feeling the confinement of the long ride from DC, he stretched his six-foot, two-inch body upward to ease the stiffness in his back. He grabbed his neatly folded uniform jacket draped over the seat back in front of him, slid it on, buttoned it, and proceeded to the door. The driver opened the outside luggage compartment, rearranged a few jumbled pieces and removed a single bag. He stepped closer to the lawn and set it on the ground. Returning to the bus, he closed the compartment, locked it, and waited for his passenger to disembark before getting back on. Martin stepped off the bus that brought him to his destination, the town of Watering Hole; more specifically, the general store. For a brief moment, Martin had thought that this posting would be a far cry from the battlefields of Vietnam and his Special Forces assignments.

Hello soldier, came the greeting from his old friend, Maj. Linden Lindy Wayne. Lindy was standing on the front porch of the general store watching his friend assess the small town. Lindy and Martin had become close friends when they first met in ‘Nam after Martin’s Special Forces training. Martin had been assigned to Lindy’s unit. The last time they had seen each other was on the battlefield. Watching his friend moving toward him, memories of the battle came flashing back to Martin.

Gunfire opened up on Captain Wayne’s search and rescue squad. He and Lieutenant Phillips, along with the others in the squad, found themselves in the middle of a sniper attack. Bullets whizzed rapidly and randomly all around them. Medic! shouted a nearby soldier, who was tending to his fallen buddy. The squad, in an instant, had ducked for cover and returned the assault in the general direction of the shooter.

Over here, medic! came another frantic shout. This time, it was Lieutenant Phillips yelling while tending to Captain Wayne.

You take care of the other men. I’ll be OK, the bleeding captain panted. The lieutenant had hurriedly pulled his injured captain under some of the dense jungle vegetation after Lindy had fallen to the ground, clutching his chest and bleeding. A second medic scrambled over on his belly and started to treat the serious chest wound of the captain.

Base we’re under fire. We need support, now! said an excited radio man yelling into his field radio. Turning to Lindy, Martin could see the wound was bad, but he knew there was nothing more he could do but get the shooter. Slightly rising and looking around, Martin scanned the trees and watched for the flash coming from the enemy’s gun. The enemy sniper was perched high in a tree, several yards from the squad. The sniper’s rifle rapidly spat bullets, giving Martin the general location of the shooter.

I’ll be right back, Martin said to his captain and the attending medic. Selecting two of the squad’s best marksmen, Martin quickly formed a plan for scouting the area. They began a sweep to ferret out the shooter. You two take the right flank, and I’ll follow the left tree line.

Belly crawling through the tall underbrush, avoiding gunfire, the lieutenant could see that the sniper was within firing distance. Quietly and slowly maneuvering through the thick foliage, he zeroed in on the shooter squatting in his perch. Adjusting his site and taking careful aim, Martin squeezed the trigger of his weapon. The echo of the shot rang in his ear as he watched the enemy assassin fall from the tree. Cautiously, Martin maneuvered to the assassin’s body as the other two marksmen from his team joined him. The Vietcong soldier lay face down on the ground. Rolling the body over, Martin could see the soldier couldn’t have been more than 18, if he was that old.

He must have gotten separated from his squad and heard us coming, commented one of Martin’s scouts.

Looks like he decided to be a hero and take a few of us out, the other one said.

Let’s make sure he has no more buddies nearby. Martin checked for a pulse, closed the kid’s eyes, and picked up his gun.

The three-man team cautiously scouted the area. They walked a small perimeter around the fallen comrades. The radioman, crouching under the dense vegetation, was busy coordinating with base command on an evacuation site for the wounded. Martin once again checked on his captain and the rest of the squad. Soon rescue would be on its way. The young lieutenant was shaken but exhilarated from the brief battle. Intently, the small group of soldiers kept watch of the perimeter around the injured. Each assuring that there were no other enemy snipers waiting for more opportunities to kill them. Hearing the Medevac helicopters overhead, the three men again returned to the squad.

Martin hoisted his captain onto his shoulders and carried him a short distance to the rendezvous point and gently laid him on the ground. The medical staff scrambled from the choppers and started the necessary triage on the injured. They were laid onto stretchers, and IVs were connected to the captain. Cautiously but quickly, the wounded were loaded and flown away to the nearest field hospital. The uninjured soldiers regrouped and returned to the jungle to continue their mission, now with Martin in the lead.

Good to see you Martin, Lindy said.

The strong voice of his friend interrupted Martin’s momentary flashback thoughts. Quickly, his attention returned to the present and he smiled at his old buddy.

Hello, sir. Martin saluted his former combat CO.

At ease, Martin, no need to call me sir. Call me Lindy, Lindy said, saluting back as he stepped off the general store’s porch and walked toward Martin. The six-foot-tall commanding officer had put on a few pounds since returning to the states four years ago but could still fight with the best of them.

Martin bent down and picked up his duffle, straightened up, threw it over his shoulder, and stepped forward. Seeing his passenger step away from the bus, the driver closed the door of the Greyhound and pulled away from the curb. The bus slowly ramped up to speed as it continued ambling on down the road. Reaching his hand out, Lindy shook Martin’s and gave him a firm welcome pat on the back.

We’re very informal around here, and we try to play down that this is a government scientific research installation. We don’t want strangers getting curious and snooping around. Come on in, and let me get you settled, Lindy said, inviting Martin into the general store.

Good to see you again, Lindy, the young captain replied. Martin once again took a brief look up and down the street. He adjusted his duffle on his shoulder and made his way toward the store with his friend. The Watering Hole general store was a large two-story, white clapboard-sided, building that had a wide porch running across the entire front. Martin stepped onto the porch and briefly paused. Looking down the porch, he saw several ladder-back chairs and a couple of checkerboard tables set up among them ready for play. It was an inviting, well-shaded area canopied by the large oak tree at the front corner of the lot. Next to the store, Martin noticed the town’s garage with two gas pumps in front and two large open bay doors. The young attendant on duty was busy talking to a customer and showing the man an area of concern on his vehicle. They both had glanced up briefly for a moment and watched the stranger, who had just stepped off the bus, then returned to busying themselves with the car.

Let me show you where you can stow your gear, Lindy said, opening the screen door.

They stepped inside, and he let it slam behind them. As the pair entered the store, Martin noticed the several glass front merchandise counters that ran down each side of the room. The floor-to-ceiling shelves towered behind the counters. Briskly walking, their footsteps echoed off the wood plank floor as they made their way inward. A whirring sound could be heard coming from the large fans hanging from the high tin ceiling. The cooling air softly brushed their faces. His first impression of the store was that it was well-stocked with everything any of the townsfolk would need. A couple of the locals appeared to be doing their shopping at one of the counters.

Halfway into the store, Martin noticed a young, pretty auburn-haired woman standing behind a counter piled high with fabric. He gave an interested glance at her as she looked his way with a smile. Martin thought that this might not be such a bad place to finish his tour after all.

Your room is on the second floor at the rear. The stairs are at the back next to the post office lobby. You will also have to share a bathroom with the others right now. We’re still remodeling and expect to have all the apartments finished soon, Lindy said, pointing straight ahead.

Sounds good. As long as I have a good bed and can get a hot shower, it should be fine. By the way, what’s the girl’s name? Martin said, giving a brief jerk of his head in the direction of the young lady.

Let’s get you settled first. There will be plenty of time later for introductions, Lindy said, slightly smiling at his young curious friend. He chatted on as the pair walked side by side through the store. Lindy and Martin made their way toward the rear of the building, proceeding down a short, wide hallway that connected the post office to the store. Turning the corner into the post office lobby, they faced the stairs leading up to the second floor. Across from the stairs was a separate outside entrance for the post office. A counter stood in the middle of the back wall of the room; behind it were several cubbyholes for mail and a closed door to the side of the counter. A young man, with his back to them, was busying himself sorting the mail.

Martin stopped for a brief moment before following Lindy up the stairs. Stepping back and away, he looked around at the post office and glanced one more time toward the front of the store. The pretty girl was still assisting her customers, so Martin turned back to the stairs and proceeded up to the second floor.

This way, Lindy indicated as he turned into the hallway at the top of the stairs. Lindy paused a moment and waited for his friend to catch up. The men made their way down the second-floor hallway to the rear of the building. Lindy took out a key from his front pants pocket and opened the door to Martin’s room. Entering, Lindy flipped the wall switch, turning on the ceiling fan and light. He walked across the room and opened the window. Martin dropped his duffle on the bed and looked around the room. Turning back to Martin, Lindy stood next to the nightstand and bed by the window and pointed out the amenities of the room. You should be comfortable here. There’s usually a bit of a breeze in the evening, and it’s quiet. You have a decent closet, and the door to your right is the shared bathroom. The bathroom is between your room and Sally’s, so knocking is always advised. Oh yeah, the girl you spotted, Sally. That’s her name. You will meet her later at dinner. Most of the staff will be there and are anxious to meet you as well, Lindy said.

I look forward to the introduction, Martin said, still thinking about the girl.

Lindy remained by the window, slightly gesturing with his hands as he talked, while pointing out the features. Maintaining his relaxed stance, he continued orienting Martin to the apartment then nodded his head in a slightly right direction. "My family has the apartment at the other end in the front. Fresh linens and towels are in your closet on the top shelf. We do have a cleaning staff for the building, but you are responsible for your room and your own laundry. If you want, I can give you the name of a lady on staff that does cleaning and laundry; she’s very reasonable. Otherwise, the washing machine is on the service porch