'I tell you what is good-' Kevin began, but stopped when he heard something. Over the crackling of the fire he heard a distant popping that barely reached his ears. 'You hear that?' he asked.
Bilbo shook his head.
He got to his feet, stumbling slightly, not used to the potent weed Bilbo smoked and stepped away from the campfire. He strained himself, listening for the odd noise again and-
There it was. And it clicked as to why it sounded so familiar. It was the sound of distant, breaking glass. He turned to the “car park” and heard another pop, then a brief flash with an adjoining “whoop” as an alarm started and was just as quickly silenced.
It was the karate survivalist!
It had to be! He'd found them and was wrecking their cars as revenge for Anton stealing his gas!
Another pop. Another busted window.
He paced back and forth for a moment, trying to collect his thoughts. Bilbo was of no use. He loved the guy, but unless he could be rolled down the hill like the fat kid in “Hook” he'd be useless in a fight. Ideally he wanted Donovan here. That guy was built and took, and gave, beatings like no other, thanks to his football days.
Bilbo was dozing, head nestled into his giant shoulder. Kevin began to panic, horrible ideas of this 'roided out survivalist killing his friends over some stupid prank crept into his brain.
Oh God, no. Is that why nobody has come back? he thought and took off, down towards the cars.
He could talk it out with the guy. Sure he could... or take a beating like a man and hopefully not get murdered.
The warm glow of the camp left his back and the chill of the night crept in as he navigated his way down to the car park under the starlight, the washed out colour of the land was dotted with impenetrable shadows and his mind played tricks on him making them appear to undulate and breath rhythmically. He heard more broken glass, much louder and much closer this time.
He passed by Bilbo's station wagon and the windows and tires were fine. He thanked God. Maybe he had just misheard and-
A crunching shuffle caused him to snap around. He was not alone. The dude was here, the military man, and his mind went back to how big the guy was and all the karate he was doing. Sure, he had laughed at the dork for screaming about anime, but the guy looked like he could rip a tree in half if he wanted to. Kevin looked from car to car, bush to bush, he couldn't tell where he was. His camouflage gear was hiding him perfectly.
'H-Hey?' Kevin said, as loudly as his breaking voice would let him. 'I'm really sorry about the gas. It wasn't me. I mean... it was, but I'm sorry. It was a stupid prank. It's at the camp. You can have it back! We haven't touched it, I can buy you more. Please...'
Anton's car had been smashed up. Payback enough in his mind. Then he noticed that Zoe's bug had been wailed on too, her back two windows having been put through.
'Shit, sorry Zoe,' he said, then, to the darkness. 'Hate me, blame me! It's my fault, not my friends. Leave their shit alone.'
He leapt as Zoe's bug lit up, letting out a familiar “Whoop” as the alarm was tested. He span around and in the middle of all the parked cars stood a figure who held the FOB for Zoe's car. They clicked it and the car fell silent again. They wore all black and a hood that covered their face. It did not look like military gear, but perhaps the survivalist guy had some weird spec-ops clothing too? The stranger then drew their other arm from behind their back, in their fist they held a small club.
'I'm sorry,' Kevin repeated. 'Did you hear what I said about the gas? It's untouched, it's-'
The stranger stepped forward and in a flash they brought their bat across Kevin's face, sending him reeling. His cheek bone shattered, teeth were knocked loose and the sky began to spin, the stars became a gigantic kaleidoscope. He still tried to plead his case though, but all that came out was a mumbled mess of wet, smacking sounds.
Kevin raised his hand, to try and defend himself, or to try and show submission. Whatever would stop what was about to come next. In response the stranger raised their own arm, club and all. Then brought it down, smashing into Kevin's hand, shattering every bone within it, wrenching his fingers backwards. Kevin howled through the agony of his broken face and the stranger hit him again over the back of his head.
The stars began to spin faster as Kevin pulled himself into a ball to protect himself from the beating. He felt as though he was seeing double now as his brain was rattled around in his skull. Through his swollen eyes he felt like he was seeing two shadows raining blows upon him. He felt his ribs give, his left knee was cracked and as a blow crushed his lower back his bladder gave way. Then... respite. The attack stopped for a brief, wondrous second and the blazing aching of his injuries were heaven compared to the blossoming agony of fresh blows.
A hand went to his neck and gripped his shirt and his attacker began to drag him towards Zoe's bug. Through the brain-fog, and the thundering sound of his own rapid pulse, he heard the lock snap open and weary creak of a door opening.
Next came the feel of cold metal on his throat as the killer placed his head inside the car door, hooking his chin over the lip of the frame and letting his body hang limp. Kevin began to choke slightly, unable to move his busted arms, but it didn't last long. With and almighty kick, the killer slammed the car door against the back of Kevin's neck, breaking it.
They kicked again and again, each blow ravaging the now dead man's neck, ripping into it with each consecutive impact. On the eighth kick the door slammed shut. Kevin's body flopped to the ground, sans head, which rolled into the foot-well of the bug.
The alarm began to sound.
The gloved hand of the killer clicked Zoe's FOB and shut it off once and for all.
Bilbo knew people who didn't dream when they smoked weed. They claimed it was some chemical thing. They said that because the weed was effecting the neurons of your brain that deals with dreams all day, that when you actually fell asleep the brain just did not know what to do with itself... or something along those lines, he wasn't a scientist.
He was just glad to be the exception, because Bilbo had some weird dreams.
The cusp of reality was just on fading from his focus. Kevin had vanished into the night, leaving just the camp, the fire, and the stars. Bilbo was no longer wrapped up in a blanket, but magnificent wizard robes like Gandalf the Grey and the fire at his feet was the diabolical Balrog he had to battle through the underworld, only it was claymation like that old, crazy kids show from England, “Trapdoor”. He'd be damned if he would question it, because the whole ordeal was radical as all hell.
Elements from the real world would seep in every now and then. The cry of someone far off, the whoop of an alarm. The Balrog was a master of deception as well as a master of karate, after all. But Bilbo ignored its deceptive attempts to try and stop him from defeating it and bringing back peace to Middle Earth.
'Psst,' the Balrog hissed, its giant, rubbery mouth rippling from one side to the other. Claymation worms wriggled out from between its teeth as they appeared and vanished beneath a wave of plasticine.
'Psst!' the worms said, each one louder than the last.
'Psst!'
'PSST!'
'PSST!'
Bilbo woke with a start. His blanket had slipped and lay besides the fire. He kicked it up with his feet and wrapped it around himself again then rubbed what little sleep had accumulated away from his eyes. Had Kevin gone to bed? Had the others come back? He checked his watch. It was near enough midnight. Ideally the party should have just started.
'Psst!' a voice whispered from behind him. He flinched with shock. It was a remnant from his dream. It had to be. He craned his neck and saw nothing but darkness.
'Kevin, my man, that you?' he asked, but the darkness didn't reply.
He shrugged and began making another spliff.
It was probably Kevin trying to play a joke, or Anton, drunk and rowdy trying to impress Zoe. He was not going to fall for those games. So long as he had something to smoke, something to m
unch on, and his imagination he wouldn't need to move one damn inch.
He leant over, got some wood and added it to the already large pile of ash and cinders amongst the dying embers of the fire. Then he threw in some paraffin cubes to get it going again properly. He should also throw another few burgers on now that he was awake again. Maybe some s'mores.
'Psst,' the voice hissed again. He couldn't tell if it was male or female either, could have been Annie, for all he knew. But that was not her style and he wondered how the proposal went and whether to act dumb when they told him about it.
With the fire roaring again the heat began prickling his bare legs where the blanket didn't reach. He got his long spatula and places a s'more on it, a pre-bought one. But he decided he would only pop it on the grill for just a second. Let the chocolate get gooey. He grinned at the prospect.
A sharp pain jabbed him in the butt.
He let out a yowl and sat forward, trying to grasp the area where he had been pricked, but his bulbous frame was preventing him from accomplishing the task.
'What are you doing, man?' he asked the prankster. Waking him up and making noises was one thing, jabbing his ass with whatever it was? That was beyond the pale!
It still hurt. He could feel his shorts becoming damp too. Whoever it was had drawn blood.
'Psst,' they said again, finally getting a reaction from Bilbo. With some level of exertion he hauled himself out of his chair and stumbled on slightly on numb legs. He was already out of breath and slowly turned around and saw blood on his expensive, high tensile chair surrounding a tiny gash. He shook his head, he was not an angry man, but this was beyond anything he'd have ever expected from his friends. He landed on the only possible suspect, Anton. He was new and clearly did not know the line. Stabbing him in the ass was one thing, but the chair? The tensile strength required to keep the thick fabric together must have been immense, a small tear in it like that could compromise it altogether.
He stepped around the seat, towards the wall of nothing that seemed to surround the camp. He peered into the void, swearing he could see someone out there, a shadow a shade lighter than the natural blackness it inhabited, but perhaps not.
'Hey man!' he called out. 'Not cool. I mean that seriously. You seem chill to me, Anton, but we're not that kind of crew, you hear me? We don't do “pranks” and if we did we wouldn't be stabbing no asses.'
Bilbo stood there for a minute or two before he stepped backwards, keeping his eye on the shadows, hoping Anton would come forward, be a man and apologise. But he never did. Bilbo picked up his blanket and found one end of it was ragged, cut to shreds with a knife.
He fell into his chair, staring at his wrecked sheets, now furious beyond belief.
'MOTHERFUC-' he went to roar, as he saw the gift that had been left on the grill.
The red jerry can lay on its side, top open with the shorn off length of his blanket stuffed into its open neck. Flames raced their way up the fabric, towards the hungry, volatile gasoline kept within.
Bilbo opened his mouth to scream. There was a flash of light. Then nothing.
11.
Donovan turned off his flashlight as they found a path that opened into familiar ground. The moon had risen high enough to illuminate their way clearly now and, although it was unlikely the flashlight would run out of juice, Donovan was relieved as he had not brought any spare batteries.
They heard a distant cracking as rocks came loose and fell from their resting place, slipping down the mountain and barrelling into trees. It exemplified just how silent the valley had become.
'How much further?' Donovan asked, his arm slung around Annie's shoulder for warmth and comfort. The lack of any bogeyman leaping out at them over the past few hours had settled their nerves a fair bit.
'I'd say ten minutes. Depending on the lay of the land we might be able to see the fire soon.'
'God! Something real to eat,' Donovan groaned with pleasure. 'I hope Bilbo hasn't finished all the burgers.'
'That'd be great. I just want to cram some food down me and fall asleep.'
It had been a long hike, they'd eaten their cracker rations and were starting to feel the first pangs of hunger. She thought of the warm double sleeping bag too and the air mattress they had. She hoped it didn't make too much noise either. They wanted to consummate their big news. What would she say to the gang tomorrow? How to even broach the subject without sounding like she was showing off? Who else knew?
'Don?' she said, ready to quiz him, she had a feeling Philly was privy to his proposal plans. 'Who else knows ab-'
The valley was filled with light for a brief moment. Warm, orange flames lit up the far mountain wall where their camp was and brought colour back to the plants in the surrounding area for a second, followed by the sound of the explosion. A resounding and deep eruption of noise, bouncing from mountain to mountain. The sound faded, but was replaced by the thunderous rumble of another rockslide.
'HOLY SHIT!' Donovan cried out, pushing Annie down, covering her with himself.
'OH MY GOD!'
Luckily, like with the brake lines, it was Donovan's turn to have taken lessons from movies to heart. They were way out of the blast radius and clear of any debris that rained down. When they thought it was safe again they looked out, across the field at the dying flames. However something drew their attention away from it; walking towards them was a human-shaped shadow.
The moon did not refract any light from the figure's dark clothes and it gave the figure the optical illusion of appearing to be cut out of reality itself. A hollow, human shaped void with eyes for them.
The pair stared at the advancing shadow, dumbstruck for a moment before Donovan spoke.
'We should run. Shit! We should run!'
He pulled on Annie's arm, and they ran! Bounding away down the path in order to circle around towards the camp. Annie glanced back to see the figure following them, stepping up its casual pace to a mild jog. They were in good shape, they'd outrun their pursuer easily... she hoped.
The rhythmic sound of their feet hitting the path filled their ears as they followed it around towards the impromptu car park. Confusion swept across them; the cars were all wrecked. Tires slashed, windows smashed in, and the hoods were all open, battery wires yanked out and frayed. Surely if anything was going to have caused the explosion it would have been one of the cars.
They passed by the shell of Zoe's bug and caught sight of the remnants of Kevin that lay, decapitated, besides it. He lay in a thick pool of blood that appeared black in the moonlight. Annie shrieked and Donovan tried, and failed, to contain his own caterwauling.
'What the fuck? What the fuck!' Donovan began to say, over and over.
Annie turned away, tears blurring her vision, and not six feet away from them stood the shadow. The person who had to be the killer. Whoever it was held their arms behind their back and appeared to have been casually waiting for them to catch on that they were there. How had they got here so fast? How hadn't Annie or Donovan heard them? They had put so much distance between themselves and the bastard, it didn't make sense.
Donovan rubbed away the tears that had streaked his face.
'Run!' he shouted. Annie was not sure if he meant her or the killer.
He pulled his jacket off and gripped the heavy flashlight like a club and took a step towards the shadow.
'I don't know what you've got behind your back there, but I'm going to shove it up your fuckin' ass!' he snarled.
In response, the killer revealed the gun they held and without any pantomime they levelled it at Donovan and pulled the trigger. The action was joined by a flash, the crack of the bullet leaving the barrel, and Donovan spinning where he stood, blood spraying from his back.
His body pirouetted, twisting around itself as it fell besides Kevin's remains. Annie stared at him in shock and before Donovan's eyes closed he managed to spit out one final, repeated word.
'RUN!'
Gunshots rang in her ears as she ran up
the hillock towards the camp, the earth either side of her erupting, spraying sodden clumps up into the air as the bullets slammed into the ground. She shrieked as she propelled herself forward on all fours, unable to process what had just happened. She just knew she had to find someone! Anyone! She'd be fine, just so long as she found someone...
The ground levelled off and she raced towards the ruined remains of the camp. The tents lay strewn across the ground, shredded and wrecked where debris and shrapnel had tore through them along with the coolers and hampers. She was surrounded by remnants of flames that slowly burnt on, fuelled by whatever scraps they had landed on after the explosion.
Worst of all, amongst the carnage, lay the body of Bilbo.
She retched and brought her hand to her mouth as she saw what was left of him. A dead, unblinking eye gazed off into the darkness. There was a crater where his second eye should have been, shards of his skull were exposed along with scraps of twisted metal. The burns raced down the entire right hand side of his body from where he had turned, trying desperately to avoid the explosive contents of the jerry can. His body was tore asunder, the flesh flash-cooked as it was pummelled by the shockwave, splitting his large gut. A loop of still sizzling guts was splayed out on the ground before him.
Annie heaved, though nothing came up. She wanted to collapse. The shock, her friends, Donovan... she wanted to collapse right there and let whatever may come just happen and be over with. Though instead, the world spun and her body, rebelling against her soul, was running through the woods and thankfully, no more shots came.
Much like Zoe before her, she ran through the trees, avoiding the treacherous hazards that littered the woods. She ducked beneath the branches, leapt rocks and avoided looping vines that threatened to snatch her neck into a natural noose. Though unlike Zoe, Annie would not be caught by the treacherous traps of the killer. She had skirted the area where Zoe and Anton had been slain, but she did not avoid discovering what had become of Philly...
Death Head Valley Page 8