Halloween

The sound of someone vomiting had always made Devon gag. He tried to block it out. Reeds bent and cracked under his feet. He traced his manager's steps through the mud behind the dumpster, leaving her to lose her lunch in the back lot. 

She’d had a sensitive nose last year before finding out she was pregnant. Devon suspected as much this time around. She and her husband were aiming for a whole litter. It rubbed Devon the wrong way, but he kept that to himself.

Tall grasses and cattails made it difficult to see between the trees. The creek had swollen from all of the rain they’d been getting. Devon could hear it splashing up against whatever debris had been swept downstream. His work shoes squelched as they sank into deepening mud.

“You sure something’s back here?” he called back, his socks soaking in the muck. He sighed. He didn’t get paid enough to be doing this. He couldn’t really complain either on account of being late; Quinn had decided to take the longest shower possible this morning.

“Yea,” his manager shouted hoarsely. Twigs snapped under him as he waded further in, looking for more shallow spots to step.

“I think you’re smelling the dumpster,” he said.

“No, it smells like that time Mike threw a bag of ham in the woods. He thought it was biodegradable. We had bears come around for months!”

The reeds parted as he reached the edge of the creek. It was grossly flooded. Cold water swept past, rolling over sunken stones and logs. A fallen tree was suspended on his left. Its branches combed the water, trapping long sticks and trash between its bristles.

The smell hit him as he drew closer. A sickly sweet miasma hung in the air. It was like he’d stepped on puffed-up roadkill. He covered his nose and mouth. His face and gut contorted.

He scanned the sides of the creek. The water extended into the reeds and trees. If there was any scattered ham, it would have been washed away by now.

“I’m not seeing anything.” Devon lifted his soaked non-slip shoes to retrace his footprints back. He’d have to throw them in the dryer when he got home. Hopefully, no one else was using it.

When he turned his head he heard it; the droning of insects, hundreds of them. He scanned the creek again, this time looking for the unfortunate creature that had most likely drowned.

A pair of dirty purple sneakers were caught in the comb of the fallen tree. They were coated in so much grime that he almost missed them. Scraps of weather-worn fabric were hooked above the current. 

He stood frozen, watching the water move under the branch. His mind lagged as he tried to make sense of the information. The figure abruptly came into focus.

Gooseflesh covered Devon’s body as he ran into deeper water.