by Val Crowe
“Yeah, when we’ll be hungover as hell and tired as fuck.” She dragged her hands over her face. “I can’t sleep. What if that thing is out there? What if he’s right on our porch? What if—”
“Just keep drinking, you’ll pass out.”
“That’s what I’ve been trying to do,” she said. “But it’s not working.” Her lower lip trembled. “It’s never been like this before, has it? You’ve done things with Rylan, and no one ever died.”
“No.” He chuckled bitterly. “No, I never thought it was dangerous, or I wouldn’t have brought you here.”
“How can it even be happening?” said Kennely. “How can it even be real?”
“I don’t know,” said Jonah. He set down the vodka and got up. He went over to a pair of his jeans that was lying in a heap. He dug in the pockets and came out with his wallet. He came back over and opened it up. “Without my phone, this is the only picture I have of her.”
I could see that it was a picture of his daughter, Emmy. She was just a baby in the picture, grinning toothlessly at the camera.
“Oh, geez, Jonah.” Kennely reached for him. She ran her hand up his neck, her fingers sifting through his hair.
“I have to get back for her.” Jonah looked at Kennely fiercely. “I need to see her. I can’t die out here without seeing Emmy again.”
“You’re not going to die.” Kennely’s voice trembled. “Don’t say that.”
“You know, I always thought that some day, you and I would get married. You’re so good with Emmy, and I thought we would…” He swallowed. “I’m just getting this bad feeling, Ken, like…” He got up, going to the door. He opened it a crack and peered outside.
“Come back here.” Kennely’s voice had a hysterical edge.
He shut the door and looked at her, sucking in a breath.
“This can’t be real,” said Kennely. “There are no killer ghosts stalking us, and we’re fine. I’m real. You’re real. This is all just… just…” She put her hand over her mouth, trying to stop herself from crying.
“Hey,” said Jonah, coming over and sitting back down with her. He put his arms around her.
She clutched at him, and she was making funny noises that didn’t quite sound like sobs. Maybe she was laughing. Maybe… No, because she pulled back, and her face was wet.
And then they were kissing.
Okay, I really needed to wake up. I didn’t need to see this.
“We’re real,” said Kennely. “You and me. That’s all that matters.” She grasped the bottom of her shirt and tugged it over her head.
I had not been expecting that. I looked away, but not before I got a pretty good look at Kennely’s bra, which was light blue striped and tiny.
“Kennely,” came Jonah’s voice, deeper, muffled because they were still kissing. He was talking against her mouth. “I don’t think this is a good idea.”
“I need this,” she said in that funny, not-sob voice. “Please, please, I need you.” Her hands were at his pants, unbuttoning, unzipping.
And I was not looking. I mean, I was trying not to look, because it was very awkward, and I had no desire to watch them have sex, but I was also right there. So, I couldn’t not see.
And utterly against my will, I was starting to get turned on, because when people are removing their clothes and making out hot and heavy in front of you, it’s a thing that happens. But I was asleep, and I wasn’t even here, not really, so how was I feeling turned on? Especially since when I pinched myself, I felt nothing. That didn’t make any fucking sense.
“Stop it,” I said. “Both of you, just stop. I can see you both.”
Jonah grunted, trying to push Kennely’s hands away from his crotch, but it was pretty half hearted, I have to say, and anyway, she was already in there, she had her hands on him, and I really didn’t want to see any of that, but, you know, again, there it freaking was.
Kennely stroked, sighing.
And Jonah gave up fighting. His hand went under the band of her bra, which was kind of a flimsy-looking thing, just a little bit of stretchy fabric, and he was pushing it out of the way, and…
I winced.
Yeah, there were Kennely’s breasts. One of which was being kneaded by Jonah while they kissed and one which was just… there, and which I was not staring at, not watching her nipple get stiffer in the cool air of the room, not getting even more turned on.
Because this was weird and gross and I was not into it. At all.
So, when the door burst open, and Macon was there, with his shoulders and his beard and his bloody clothes and his serrated knife? Well, I was kind of relieved.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Jonah staggered to his feet, and his pants fell off, pooling around his ankles. He reached down to get them.
Kennely didn’t even scream. She looked up at Macon, and she just made squeaking noises, her eyes like saucers. She didn’t try to cover herself. She was frozen there.
Macon took a step inside, raising his knife, pointing it at Jonah.
Jonah buttoned his pants. He was still turned on, and he was sticking out of his zipper, and it was obscene.
I screamed. I let out some sort of hoarse sound of warning, not that anyone heard me. I launched myself between Jonah and Macon, but Macon slashed with his arm, and it went through me.
And Jonah gurgled.
I turned.
Jonah’s throat was sliced open and blood was spurting out of it, all over his chest, all down his body. He put a hand to the wound, still gurgling. The expression on his face was shocked and confused, and it destroyed me. The blood spattered his open wallet. It spattered his baby daughter’s picture. It spattered Kennely. It spattered her bare breasts.
I screamed again.
I needed to wake the fuck up.
Why wasn’t I awake? Why?
Kennely was in a stupor, but she was trying to move. Except she was trying to get her bra back up instead of trying to get to her feet.
“Stand up!” I screamed at her. I tried to grab her arm. I couldn’t. I went right through her.
Wake up, I ordered myself. Wake the fuck up.
Kennely managed to drag her bra up. It was dotted with Jonah’s blood. She let out a noise now. A high-pitched shriek.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
And the sound woke me. I sat up straight on the steps where I’d fallen asleep and I got up and ran for Kennely’s cabin.
The door was already open when I tore up the steps. I could see the light of the kerosene lantern.
“Kennely!” I yelled.
She was still screaming. It was a wailing noise that went on and on.
I skidded into the door of the cabin.
Kennely was in a crouch on the floor, and Macon stood over her, knife raised above his head. He was going to bring it down on her at any second, and I needed to do something to stop—
Kennely launched upwards, bringing her backpack with her, and slammed the backpack into Macon’s face.
“Yes,” I said. “Fight him. Come on, let’s go!”
Kennely spotted me.
Macon staggered back a step, letting out a roar of rage.
Kennely darted toward me, toward the door.
Macon found his footing and grabbed her as she moved past him.
She struggled.
I ran for the two of them.
Macon hauled her up, his hand on the back of her neck. He brought in his knife.
But I launched myself into his midsection, and the two of us went back on the floor of the cabin, and his knife clattered out of his hand.
Macon sneered at me.
I snatched up his knife. I stabbed him with it. I thrust the thing right into Macon’s throat.
Nothing happened.
Macon let out a low, mocking laugh.
Shit, he was already dead. I couldn’t do anything to him. But he was powerful enough to kill us. We were screwed.
I scrambled backward. “Run, Kennely!”
Macon got to his feet, and a new knife
materialized in his hand. He stalked past me and out the door.
Kennely cried out.
I got up and hurtled after them. I got out the door just in time to see Macon pinning Kennely to the wall beside the door and stabbing her just under her rib cage. The backpack hung uselessly from one of her hands.
“Stop,” I said, taking him by the shoulder and trying to pull him off her.
Macon shook me off like I was nothing.
I was thrown backwards. I landed painfully with the sharp edge of the railing in middle of my back.
The backpack thudded against the floor of the porch. Kennely had dropped it.
Macon was still stabbing Kennely. Only now, she wasn’t making any noise. Her head was hanging down and her limbs were dangling, and she wasn’t moving anymore.
“Why?” I screamed out.
Macon turned to look at me, letting Kennely fall.
“Why?” I said again. “He’s the one who killed people, not you. Why are you doing what your father did?”
“My father made a sacrifice to the devil himself,” said Macon in a voice like ground glass. “They are all gone. Only I remain alive. I was consecrated to evil. That is what I am. That is all I am.”
“That’s bullshit,” I said. “You don’t have to kill anyone.”
Macon cocked his head. “What are you?”
Swallowing hard, I pushed myself to my feet. I should know better than to try to reason with a ghost, shouldn’t I? I eased my way down the stairs backwards, holding onto the railing.
Macon came after me. “You’re not like the others, are you? You’re full of so much… power.”
Shit.
Macon lunged at me, but he didn’t use his knife. Instead, he put our foreheads together, and a familiar sensation took over. Everything was blurred and painful. He was drawing something out of me, and I could feel it being pulled through my mouth and nose and eyes and ears. I tried to struggle, tried to get away, but I was helpless. I couldn’t move.
Macon was draining me.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
I came back to myself with a gasp to see that Dominique was standing over me with a board from one of the cabins grasped in both hands. She’d apparently just used it to hit Macon with, because he was two feet away from me, dazed and unsteady on his feet.
Dominique dropped the board and hauled me to my feet. “Come on,” she said.
“Why’d you drop your weapon?” I managed.
She only grunted at me.
We were running. She was dragging me along, and I was doing my best to catch up. When ghosts did that to me, it took a lot out of me. Dominique yanked me over the ground of the campground and then we stumbled up the steps of Rylan’s and Mundy’s cabin. Rylan and Mundy were on the porch, both white-faced and wide-eyed.
“We heard screaming,” said Rylan.
Dominique threw open the door and pushed me inside.
I landed on my hands and knees, panting.
“You two, get in there too,” said Dominique.
“But what are you going to—?”
And then Rylan and Mundy both appeared, apparently having been shoved inside.
Then Dominique shut the door. She was still outside.
“Deacon, what is going on?” said Rylan.
I got up and went to the door. “What do you think you’re doing, Dominique?”
Dominique didn’t say anything, at least not to me. But I heard her out there talking to Macon. “You don’t have to do this,” she was saying. “You can let go, find your peace. You can be with Deborah again.”
There was no response from Macon except a long, low chuckle.
I yanked the door open. “What the hell?” I said to her.
Macon was at the foot of the steps.
Dominique didn’t even acknowledge me. She simply climbed down the steps to face off with him.
Macon raised his knife. Using the flat edge, he traced the outline of Dominique’s jaw. “I am evil,” he whispered. “I serve evil.”
I went down after Dominique and snatched at the back of her shirt. Then I pulled her back up the steps and into the cabin. I shut the door and put my back against it.
“What’s wrong with you?” Dominique was seething.
A banging on the door.
“No, what’s wrong with you?” said Rylan. “Don’t you watch horror movies? You’ve just backed us into a corner with no way out. We’re all going to get stabbed to death.”
“What?” said Mundy, looking frightened. “Can he come in without an invitation?”
“You’re thinking of vampires,” said Rylan.
“He’s not coming in,” I said.
More banging at the door.
“Look, you have to let me try to get him to move on,” said Dominique.
“No offense,” I said, “but you weren’t exactly doing a great job at that.”
“It’s the only way to stop him,” she said.
“We’ll just hole up in here,” I said. “He’ll get bored. He’ll leave.”
“Or,” said Rylan in a quieter voice, “maybe we could trap him in here.”
But at that moment, the knife came through the door right next to my head, inches from my skin. The wood splintered. I yelped. And then I moved as quick as I could away from the door.
“Damn it,” muttered Rylan.
Because then the door opened. Of course, it opened.
“I’ve never met anything like you,” said Macon, reaching for me as he came inside. “I have to have more.”
I backed up, tripping over Rylan’s air mattress and going sprawling.
Macon crawled onto the mattress after me.
“Go, guys,” I said as I tried to climb backwards, away from Macon. But the air mattress crinkled under the combined weight of me and Macon, and it wasn’t easy going.
I saw that Mundy didn’t hesitate, running out the door right away. Good. She’d be safe. I redoubled my efforts to get away from Macon.
Macon slashed at my legs with his knife. I guess he figured he could still feed on my essence if I had a thigh wound.
I kicked at him. My foot collided with his chest. It was like kicking a slab of granite.
Rylan was suddenly behind Macon, holding up the air pump for the mattress. She brought it down hard on Macon’s head.
Macon roared.
“Come on, Deacon!” yelled Rylan.
I scrambled off the bed.
Macon was trying to get to his feet, trying to strike back at Rylan.
Rylan reached out her hand to me.
I grasped her fingers.
Together, we ran out of the cabin. We pulled the door shut.
Rylan lingered, holding onto the doorknob. “We can trap him!”
I grabbed her by the arm and yanked. “How? We can’t barricade the door. It opens inward.”
Rylan looked down at the knob and then down the steps and then up at me.
“Come on,” I said.
“Fuck,” she said. But she let go of the doorknob, and we clambered down the steps to the grass below where Mundy and Dominique were waiting for us.
We took off running.
Alice was on the front porch of her cabin. “What’s going on?” she said.
At that moment, Macon lumbered back out of the cabin we’d just come from. He slashed the air for good measure, even though none of us were close enough to stab.
Alice screamed. She took off down the steps of her cabin and began racing across the grass. She was seconds from catching up with us.
But Macon was coming after us too. He wasn’t running. He seemed beyond running. Instead, he strode toward us at a casual pace, knife at his side.
But he was closest to Alice.
She was running to catch up with us, and she was lagging behind. She was panting and pumping her legs and trying to go as fast as she could. He was an unhurried shadow.
He caught her anyway.
We all saw. We all screamed.
Dominique and I bo
th switched direction and went running back for Alice.
But it was too late.
Macon came up behind her, wrapping his burly arm around her midsection. He brought the knife down from above, and there was a sickening crunching sound when we heard it bust through the bone of her clavicle.
Alice screamed.
Macon stabbed her again, this time in the stomach.
Blood welled up, staining her nightshirt.
Alice was still screaming.
Macon dragged the blade of his knife over her throat, silencing her.
“No!” said Dominique.
I stopped short. I’d been running back toward Macon, but now I could see that was a lost cause. We hadn’t been in time to help Alice after all. We needed to get running again.
“It’s us you want,” said Dominique to Macon. “You want me and Deacon. Now, follow us, you dick. Follow us and let’s end this thing!”
Abruptly, she linked our hands and raised them high above her head.
* * *
When Macon saw me, he grinned.
Dominique was right. He wanted to me. If I could lead him away, the others might have a chance of getting out of here. I shook my head at her. “You go with them. I’ll lead him on a wild goose chase.”
“It’s got to be both us,” she disagreed. “You need me.” Our hands were still linked. She started to tug me after her, just like she’d done before.
There wasn’t time to argue, because Macon was taking the bait. He was heading after Dominique and me.
Together, Dominique and I crashed into the woods.
We ran, still holding hands.
The woods was dark and full of things we could barely see. We were slapped in the face by wayward branches and lashed by thorns and pine needles. We fought our way through the foliage as best as we could, and our feet hurt and our lungs screamed at us. Sweat poured down over our foreheads.
Every once in a while, we looked back.
Macon was always there.
He was never running, just walking toward us, a menacing figure in the darkness, moving through the woods behind us without any trouble from briars or brambles. He seemed to glide.
No matter how fast we went, we never seemed to get any further ahead of him. He was always there, always coming, and always the same distance away.