Chapter Text
If someone were to tell Clancy three years ago that he took a job as a cameraman for a ghost hunting online documentary series, he’d laugh at them to their face.
When it comes to the paranormal, he is a skeptic. It’s all bullshit to him - the creation of hyperactive minds or attention-seekers, maybe? When he first came across an episode of Ghost Adventures on TV a few years back, he swore he would never be a part of something like it. Sure, TV shows that sensationalize the supernatural are all fake and it’s deceptive, but the real problem, in Clancy’s opinion, is that they are boring as hell. There’s zero entertainment value in watching a bunch of dudes walk around an old, abandoned house in the dark, demanding spirits to manifest before them.
But fast forward to the present, look at him now - he’s traveling to the backwaters of Louisiana in a small town he’s never heard of before called Dulvey on his first day of working as a cameraman for a fucking online ghost hunting show, of all things!
It will be his first time visiting the South and he will be spending all his time there inside an abandoned tanker, pointing his camera in the dark.
He supposes he can pretend that he isn’t there for work. Instead, he can pretend that he’s on vacation with Andre Stickland, his dear friend from high school (who happens to be the show’s producer and Clancy’s employer). They used to film video logs back in the day, anyway, and the only thing that’ll be different from the good old days is the addition of Peter Walken, their presenter.
Maybe he can also pretend that the abandoned tanker is some sort of tourist spot? But Clancy doubts that what’s inside it is just as interesting as to how the damn thing ended up in the bayou. The events were like something from a fucking movie. When Clancy read about it the first time, he stayed up all night reading Andre’s research notes.
Three years ago, the tanker was from a large ship that used to transport natural gasses around the Gulf of Mexico before it got caught up in a hurricane and split into three pieces. Everyone inside tragically lost their lives except two people: a female crewmate and a little orphan girl who snuck into the ship for reasons unknown by anyone but herself. They ended up on the bayou trail near a ranch and were rescued by the eldest son of the ranch owner. Despite the tragedy that befell them, the survivors had their happy ending - the female crewmate was reunited with her husband and they decided to adopt the girl.
“Here we are,” Andre said, pulling Clancy out of his thoughts and back to reality where he is currently sitting at the back of the Sewer Gators crew van. Andre turns to glance in his direction, throwing Clancy a bright smile, before once again turning towards the road.
Clancy looks out the window just in time to see a faded gateway sign that is covered in dust and dried mud. Despite that, Clancy is still able to make out the words ‘Welcome to the parish of Dulvey’ and underneath that, it reads ‘If we have a say on how you'll spend your day, you will be okay’ in smaller-sized letters.
“What a long corny ass tagline,” Peter groans grumpily from the passenger seat. If Clancy hadn’t interacted with him before this, he’d assume that the other man was just cranky from the lack of sleep and discomfort from having to sit in a cramped space for hours. Since Clancy did, he knows that Peter is just a really grumpy person. He isn’t even sure if he’s ever seen Peter smile since meeting him.
Andre drives further through the quaint and quiet streets of Dulvey. While he and Peter debate about resting the whole day or working as soon as they check into the bed and breakfast Andre had booked them in, Clancy continues to watch the scenery from out the window. There aren’t many people around already, even if the sun has just gone down, which is something that must be normal in rural areas like this one but is unlikely in bustling cities Clancy is used to.
Minutes later, the scenery outside changes from a quiet neighborhood to a forest of tall, bald cypress trees, and the smooth paved road underneath their van has been replaced by a rough dirt road.
“Hey, Andre, are you sure we’re heading the right way?” Peter asks anxiously when Andre keeps driving deeper and deeper into the secluded road. “You’re not taking us into a madhouse owned by murderous hillbillies, are you?”
“Have a little faith in me, why don’t you?” Andre said, keeping his eyes fixed on the trail in front of them. “And I talked to the owners on the phone when I booked our rooms. They’re not murderous hillbillies; they’re just a quiet, self-contained family of lovely people.”
“They are until they aren’t.”
“...you watch too many movies, Petey.”
“And if we’re in one, you’d be the first to die, Stickland.”
Clancy doesn’t say anything, not knowing if he could say anything of value, since he agrees to both of their sentiments. Sure, the road their traveling onto seems ominous and reminds Clancy of the many cliche horror movies he and his old high school buddies used to watch back in the day but he also trusts Andre would’ve done enough background checks on the place to guarantee that it’s only legitimate and safe, but also comfortable and homey.
After driving through the bumpy, dusty road for what felt like hours, they finally see a wayfinding sign that read ' This way to the Bakers' Bed and Breakfast '.
Shortly after, they arrive at what looks to be an old residential mansion, parking near the mansion's opened swing gate. Looking around, Clancy just notices that there is not a single car in sight beside theirs. Business doesn't seem to be doing well for this establishment…
“Well, what do you think?” Andre asks as they all step out of the van. It's dead quiet sans the loud clicking sounds of cicadas.
“It’s fucking creepy as all hell,” Peter replies, shuddering animatedly for emphasis.
Gazing at the large house’s exterior, Clancy can’t help but disagree quietly. Sure, the place seems old and worn-out but there is a certain charm to its antiquated look. Just looking at it gives him an almost warm, nostalgic feeling but he couldn't exactly explain why that is. Maybe because it looks like the house his now-late grandparents used to live in where he spent most of his only good childhood memories?
“I dunno, Andre, but don’t you think it’s weird that there’s nobody else around but us? It’s not too late for us to get the fuck outta here, y’know,” Peter continues. "There's plenty of other places we could stay in for the night."
“But they're not the Bakers’ Bed and Breakfast, owned by Jack and Marguerite Baker,” Andre presses on, sounding like he just won the jackpot of the lottery.
“...and?” Peter deadpans.
“Do you ever prep, Pete?”
Jack and Marguerite Baker. Clancy had heard those names before, but he couldn’t remember when. He’s sure it’s just recently…
“Clancy, bro, please tell me you know who those two are,” Andre said, desperate, looking at his old friend who finally remembers where he saw those names - in the script for their latest episode!
“They’re the parents of the guy who discovered the tanker, right?”
“Bingo,” Andre confirms with a wink. “After housing and nursing the two survivors of the tanker incident, the Bakers turned their house into a bed and breakfast. Anyway, I’m really hoping we could ask their son, Lucas, to give his account of how he found the tanker. As far as I know, he never once let media people interview him and if we get him to talk, it'll be a big deal. There are a lot of bad rumors about him though. Bad seed, apparently. But I don’t think he’s as bad as people made him out to be. After all, he did save those survivors.”
“What makes you think he’d agree to be featured on our stupid ghost show?” Peter said, heading to the back of the van and Andre followed suit, playfully smacking their presenter’s head before helping him unload their personal stuff from the trunk, leaving their equipment and other work-related things inside.
“Yeah, with you having a negative amount of charm and friendliness, he’d turn us down before we could ask him about the interview and then chase us outta their property with a pitchfork,” Andre counters.
Clancy watches them, feeling a pang of jealousy. He’s glad that Andre and Peter are close, but he can’t help but feel left out somehow. He knows they won’t have the same bond as he does with Andre, but he also knows that he can’t have what Peter and Andre have. Nothing changed in his relationship with Andre, which is the problem because he and Clancy have been friends for years now and they should be closer than they were before, shouldn’t they? Maybe if Clancy tried a bit harder to reach out and kept in contact with Andre after Clancy left Seattle without a single backward glance, then maybe it would’ve been different…
“Here’s your backpack, Clance,” Andre said, handing Clancy his stuff and interrupting his internal wallowing. “And your camera. Film our way to the house and our first encounter with the Bakers, but only if they're okay with it.”
“...thanks and I will.”
They head to the entrance of the mansion and Clancy tries his best to do as Andre asked of him but filming the trail from the gate to the house proved to be difficult as it is only illuminated by a few lanterns here and there, so it’s quite dark, especially now that the sun has fully set.
They find a lanky man in a ratty blue hoodie jacket, leaning against one of the columns on the porch while taking a drag of his cigarette. His face is being obscured by the hood over his head and Clancy can’t help but wonder why he has his hood up at night-time.
“Hey, man," Andre greets him. "Nice evening for a smoke outside, huh?”
The man glances at him, quietly studying him from head to toe before doing the same to Peter then Clancy, his stare lingering far longer than they did the others. Maybe he’s wondering why Clancy is wearing his cap backward?
“Get that damn thang outta my face,” he snaps at him.
Oh, right.
“Sorry about that,” Clancy stammers, pointing his camera downwards and away from his direction. So he wasn't judging Clancy's choice of headwear and how he wore it, after all.
The man grumbles something incomprehensible underneath his breath before once again placing his cigarette back between his lips.
Okay, it was his honest mistake forgetting to ask the man if it's okay for him to be filmed, Clancy admits that, but did this bastard really have to impolitely tell him off like that? Oh, well, so much for Southern hospitality...
“Are you, uh, one of the guests here?” Andre asks, still hoping to make conversation with the stranger who is busy taking a slow drag of his cigarette and is probably wishing that Andre takes a hint and leaves him alone.
It takes the man a few uncomfortable seconds of silence to decide to finally reply, which was a surprise for Clancy. He didn't expect him to answer Andre at all.
“Sure, y’all can say that,” he said with a Southern accent that’s nearly as thick as the sarcastic tone in his voice.
“So, what do you think of the place?”
“It’s a dirty, fuckin’ shit hole is what it is,” the man replies nonchalantly, crushing his cigarette on the column in front of him before finally leaving the trio to awkwardly wait for someone to answer the door.
Once he’s out of their line of sight, Peter speaks up, “What a rude son of a -”, but before he can finish his sentiment, he gets cut off by the sound of the doorknob loudly clicking open.
Standing opposite the door is an imposing, scowling man who looks to be in his late fifties. He has thinning light blonde hair, an unkempt beard covering his chin, and blue eyes behind a pair of silver-rimmed eyeglasses. “Evenin’,” he said, looking a bit flustered for a second before all tension and hints of irritation melted away from his whole body. Like the hooded man, he too has a thick Southern accent.
“Good evening, sir," Andre said with a small, courteous nod.
“I reckon you’re Mister Stickland? I’m Jack Baker. Fancy to finally meet you.” The man said, extending an arm towards the producer.
“Please, Mister Baker, call me Andre,” Andre chuckles lightly, taking the older man’s hand to shake it.
“Um, is it okay if I film you?” Clancy asks. He will not make the same mistake twice because although Jack seems to be a nice man, no one is nice when they're upset or offended. He doesn't want to do any of that because he remembers having read in their script that Jack is a war veteran who can absolutely knock the daylights out of him if he wishes to.
“Sure, boy, go ahead,” Jack replies. “Well, what’re y’all waitin’ for, city boys? Come on in. Y’all are gonna join us for supper. My lovely wife and our daughter are in the kitchen right now. They fixed a fine feast for you folks.”
He leads them into a simple dining room where the round table is filled with several local dishes. Clancy’s stomach growls just by looking at them. He forgot how hungry he was. He also spots a woman busily walking around the kitchen nearby and with her is a younger lady with short dark hair who is casually leaning on the counter, drinking something from a cup. She sees them enter and doesn't react. Meanwhile, the woman is so focused on whatever she’s doing that she doesn’t notice them enter the dining room until Jack calls out, “Marguerite, Zoe, the Gutter Crocs are here!”.
“Daddy, I don’t think they’re called that,” said the younger woman who Clancy believes to be the one named Zoe. “I’m pretty sure they’re called Sewer Gators.”.
“'Sewer Gators'? No, that ain't sound right.”
“Oh, good evening. Welcome to our humble place,” Marguerite Baker lilts, making her way to the dining room while holding a pitcher of water. She’s a woman in her early fifties, with a friendly, warm face and long black hair tied in a neat ponytail. “I hope it’s as much of a home to you as it is for us even for just one night and day.”
Clancy can't help but smile at that.
Once the table is set and saying their grace, the trio joins the Baker family in their supper, digging into the etouffee, red beans, and crawfish boil Marguerite had prepared for them with extreme gusto. They've been traveling for God knows how long and their previous meals had been fast food so they're extremely grateful to finally have food that's prepared and served with love.
“Now, now, slow down, no need to lick y’all’s plates clean right off the bat,” Jack chuckled.
“Can’t help it when the food is this amazing. Thank you for having us for supper,” Andre said in between shoving spoonfuls of beans and rice in his mouth. Peter can only hum in agreement, unable to say a word with his mouth full. He looks like a squirrel with nuts packed in its mouth.
“Yeah, gotta love home-cooking,” Clancy nods.
“Well, it’s the least we could do since y'all are going to feature our bed and breakfast in your internet show,” Marguerite replies, smiling from ear to ear. “It would do our business good, I think.”
“We ain’t got any other guests here tonight until tomorrow morn so y’all are free to choose any room you see fit to film in,” Jack said before glancing at Zoe. “Zoe, can ya be a dear an’ fetch me and the boys here a bottle of beer each?”
“Wait, we’re the only guests over?” Clancy asks after a beat later. Did he hear Jack correctly? That would make sense since they didn't see any parked vehicles outside but they did see that man in the hooded jacket on the porch just now, didn't they? Were they seeing things? Was he a ghost? "But there was a man outside. He said he’s a guest.”
Jack blinks, “A man, you say?”.
“Yeah. Tall, lanky, cheeky, wearing a dark hoodie jacket...”
“Oh, that’s just my idiot brother,” Zoe chimes in as she comes back from fetching four bottles of beer for them. Up close, Clancy notices that her features take after her mother, with her dark hair, large, doe-like blue eyes, and heart-shaped face.
“That was Lucas?” The same Lucas Andre mentioned that he hopes to interview? The man who rescued the survivors of the tanker incident?That Lucas? Wait, why is he so surprised to hear that? Andre did mention that there he heard rumors that he was the black sheep of the family. That encounter just proves that all the tittle-tattle about him is true.
"Yeah," Zoe nodded before waving her hand dismissively. "Pay 'em no mind. He's just pitchin' a fit because he hates havin' guests over. Don't worry, he ain't gonna ruin y'all's show with his ugly because he's gonna lock himself up in the barn while you're here. Daddy's gonna be the one to give you folks the tour to the tanker tomorrow, anyway."
Hesitantly, Andre said, "We were actually hoping to interview Lucas...".
"If y'all can convince the most hard-headed and volatile man in Dulvey tonight to do that then sure, buddy," Zoe said with a crooked grin.
Jack chuckles, shaking his head, "Good luck with that. Y'all saw how my son was like.".
Marguerite just sighed and said nothing.
The Sewer Gators crew exchange nervous glances with one another.
Looks like getting an interview from the discoverer of Dulvey’s haunted tanker isn't going to happen, after all…
“Well,” Andre breaks the silence finally, shrugging and slightly shaking his head, “I guess we’ll just have to cross that bridge when we get there.”.