Forest of the Damned

by Lee Mountford

  This whole fucking thing had been his fault.

  He’d chosen the destination, he’d organised everything, and he was the one who hadn’t listened when things started to go wrong—too focused instead on getting the answers he so desperately needed. But now, because of him, Tony was dead, Roberta’s mind had broken, and they were now all stuck in an inescapable nightmare. One where the only escape seemed to be an impending death.

  And even that, Ken realised, might not be the end.

  As if to confirm this theory, Tony’s milky eyes suddenly moved and focused on Ken. A horrible, drawn-out scream of anguish then erupted from the already open mouth.

  ‘Help me!’ Impossibly, the voice came from the decorated head. Its voice was strained, full of pain, and sounding somehow otherworldly—as if coming from a space removed from their reality. But still, Ken recognised the voice as Tony’s. ‘Please,’ his friend begged.

  ‘Tony,’ Ken replied, leaning forward. He had an impulse to reach out and take hold of the head, and even held out his arms to do so, but the thought of it was simply too much, too ghoulish, so he stopped. ‘What happened? What can we do?’ Ken asked.

  ‘I’m… in pain,’ Tony said, each word sounding like it was a struggle to get out. ‘I can’t… take it. This place… it’s… hell. It’s hell. Please… I’m begging you. Please… help me.’

  Another long scream, and then the face grew silent and lifeless again as the focus in the eyes fell away.

  ‘Tony!’ Ken screamed, now taking hold of the detached head and shaking it. ‘Tony!’

  Nothing.

  He quickly realised what he was holding and let go, allowing the head to drop to the floor where it landed with a thud, coming to a stop close to Ken’s foot.

  Ken took two paces back and stared with tears in his eyes at the horrible sight of what was left of his friend lying on the floor. Discarded, like an old mannequin head.

  He then felt James’ presence beside him.

  ‘What the fuck was that?’ James asked. ‘Was it real?’

  Ken could not answer him, and had no way of knowing. Not for certain. But he did feel that it was indeed his old friend communicating with him, from beyond this life, from a place that could be hell. And there was one thing Ken was now sure of.

  ‘Tony’s dead,’ he stated. ‘Whatever is behind all this, it has him now.’

  ‘Can we help him?’ James asked, his voice shaking.

  Ken shrugged. ‘I don’t think so. I don’t even think we can help ourselves.’ He turned to look at the horrors around them, at the bodies that had been displayed. He wondered if they had once been presented like this in real life? Perhaps some kind or replay of events from the past.

  Ken again turned to James. ‘Where’s Roberta?’

  James took a moment to answer. ‘Still outside, I think.’

  ‘She didn’t follow?’

  James shook his head. ‘No. And if I’m honest, I nearly didn’t either.’

  ‘Understandable,’ Ken replied, feeling an urgent need to leave this place. He had clearly been summoned here, tricked with the voice of his daughter, but to what end? If more surprises lay ahead—beyond Tony’s detached head talking to them—then Ken wanted no part of it. He’d been stupid to come here in the first place. ‘We need to find Roberta, make sure she’s okay.’

  Ken was aware his voice sounded distant, because that’s how he felt—far away, somehow detached from reality. Perhaps he was close to his breaking point and would soon snap, as Roberta had.

  ‘I’m not sure we do,’ James said.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I don’t think she’s okay at all, and I really don’t think we can trust her.’

  ‘I know she’s not coping well, James, but that’s no reason—’

  ‘That’s not it!’ James snapped, cutting in. ‘Something is wrong with her. I don’t think she’s on our side anymore.’

  ‘That’s just because she can’t handle what’s happening to us,’ Ken replied. ‘Hell, I don’t think I’m far off from losing it myself.’

  ‘That isn’t it,’ James insisted. ‘Roberta could get a little unnerved from time to time, sure, but she was as strong as any of us. This is something different. Something is in her head.’

  ‘We don’t know that.’

  ‘But we do!’ James argued. ‘When you ran in here, Roberta told me that you would die in here. And she thought it was funny. She wanted it to happen. That’s why I came. I thought I could catch you, but… I don’t know, I’m not feeling right. I’m weak. Even now, I can barely stand. Something is happening to us, beyond all of the things we are seeing. Something from this forest is inside us.’

  Ken considered what James was saying and, somewhere in the depths of his mind, it kind of made sense. But right now, after what had just happened, Ken was too overwhelmed to make sense of it all. Instead, he had to focus on more immediate issues.

  ‘Let’s get the hell out of here,’ he said.

  As soon as the words were uttered, however, the door to the church slammed shut. At the same time, all of the candles simultaneously blew out.

  ‘Holy shit!’ James screamed.

  Ken was shocked, too, of course, and not just because of the sudden darkness they had been plunged into. Just before the candles had blown out, Ken had seen a glimpse of movement from one of the corpses.

  Low, guttural moans began to emanate around the two of them, accompanied by shuffling and scraping sounds.

  ‘Jesus Christ,’ Ken said, horror locking his body. ‘I don’t think these things are dead.’

  27

  With the candles out and the dull, flickering glow no longer illuminating the inside of the church, both James and Ken were plunged into near-complete darkness. Only the thin strips of sunlight that managed to seep between the gaps in the window boarding gave them any kind of visual aid at all.

  But James didn’t need to see anything to know that Ken was right. He could hear it. Sexualised moans of want and desire rose up like a terrible chorus, echoing off the stone walls all around them. What little light they had hinted at writhing movement, as the previously still and prone corpses were now animated.

  James knew they were both now in imminent danger. He felt something take hold of his arm and was unable to stop from crying out in fright.

  ‘It’s me,’ he heard Ken whisper, panic evident in the man’s voice. ‘We need to get out of here.’

  An obvious statement—and one they had been using all too often recently—but a relevant one. ‘The door,’ James replied. ‘We need to get to the main door.’

  As far as he was aware, that was the only way in or out of the church, and they weren’t able to look for another escape route.

  Ken seemed to agree. ‘Come on.’

  He dragged James back in the direction they had come from as the sounds around them—groaning and the shuffling of movement—increased. The shards of light available to them acted as a guide to lead them back, helping them to make sure nothing barred their way. The pair had only taken a few dozen steps when something suddenly pulled itself into one of the spots of light, directly blocking their path. The two men pulled up short.

  Most of the figure that barred their progress was shrouded in darkness, but from a sliver of light James could make out some of the details of its face as it pulled itself along the ground and through the beam of light. The eyes and mouth had been sewn shut, and around its throat was wrapped a dark purple strand of intestine, though it was unclear if the organ was its own or that of someone else. James didn’t manage to see any more before it moved out of the light, but he could hear it slide across the floor towards them, now hidden by the darkness.

  At the same time, other sounds converged from all around them: cries halfway between pain and pleasure, some muffled, some clear—all absolutely terrifying.

  And then another noise rang out, a screaming that quickly rose above the incessant din of the undead. It was a voice, the one James and Ke
n had just heard, which in itself was maddening.

  It was Tony.

  And he was again screaming, ‘Help me! Help me! Help me!’

  The panic, urgency, and pure desperation in the man’s voice shook James, causing his fear levels to spike even higher, if that was possible. And then, James heard something else: a distinct bleating sound that was followed by a guttural, inhuman roar.

  Suddenly, Tony’s cries were cut off with a sickening, wet crunch. James didn’t need to be able to see anything to know that the corpse that had been defiled with the head of a goat, and that had held Tony’s decapitated head in its lap, was now up and moving as well. And it had stopped Tony’s pleading.

  James took off, unable to stop himself, with blind panic taking control of his actions. He knew the thing with the stitched-up eyes and mouth was still ahead, blocking his way, but he couldn't stand to be in that space anymore—he needed to be out of that fucking church, lest he meet a fate similar to Tony’s.

  ‘Damnit, James!’ he heard Ken shout as managed to slip from the older man’s grasp. As James sprinted off ahead, he felt his legs catch on something at the shin, and he toppled over the squirming mass before him, falling hard to the floor and cracking his forehead against something in the process.

  After a moment, a sharp pain erupted, and he let out a groan as disorientation and nausea took over. He knew he needed to keep going, but at that moment James couldn’t tell one way from another—which direction would take him to the door and which one would instead lead him back deeper into that hell. James then felt cold hands grab him. As the brief ringing in his ears faded away, he again heard a muffled but lustful moaning, this time right beside him. Whatever had hold of him then heaved itself on top of his grounded body. Though he tried to fight back, James’ strength was sapped yet again, making him weak and useless. The flesh of the creature’s groping hands felt cold and clammy, almost putty-like, and the smell that assaulted him—of rot and decay—was sharp and overwhelming. The weight was heavy, pinning James down, and he felt the dead hands grab at his trousers, trying to force them off while pulling at the belt. A renewed panic took over.

  ‘Help!’ he screamed. ‘Ken! Help me!’

  Thankfully, before the writhing corpse atop him could carry out whatever deed it intended, he felt another set of hands grab him by the shoulders and pull with considerable force, heaving James free of his captor. James managed to quickly climb back to his feet, but still felt the moving corpse grope at his legs.

  ‘This way,’ he heard Ken say, before being pulled along once again. James was happy to let Ken guide him this time, hoping his colleague knew the way to the door and could evade whatever other horrors lurked in the darkness.

  The hungry noises followed them and closed in faster than James would have hoped, but it was impossible to tell how near the things that shambled after them were. Using the intermittent shafts of light, however, he could tell that he and Ken were getting closer to the exit. He just hoped it would open when they got there.

  After a few more strides they crashed into the hard wood of the door and groped for the handle.

  ‘Got it!’ he heard Ken shout, filling him with relief. The door slowly heaved open and light from outside flooded in, allowing James, as he turned his head, to finally see what followed behind.

  His heart sank, and he knew immediately that he would not make it. Ken rushed through the door, still holding James’ arm, and tried to pull him through as well, but it was too late.

  The writhing mass of bodies had been quicker than James had expected and were already on him, multiple hands taking hold of his body. The writhing nightmares descended faster than they should have been able.

  Ken looked back, and an expression of shock and horror quickly dawned across his face. His hold on James broke as James was heaved back by the nightmarish crowd, and the door between them was then forced shut, leaving him in darkness. The many creatures within pulled him to the floor as he screamed, pressing down on him and blocking off his air. He was unable to move—trapped beneath a hellish blanket of corpses.

  James squirmed and screamed, but could do nothing to fight back against the overwhelming weight and mass of unseen terrors pinning him down.

  Through the cacophony of lust, he then heard a distinctive sound.

  One of laughter.

  And it was not human.

  28

  Ken hammered against the now-closed door to the church and pushed against it with all of his might.

  ‘James! James!’ he screamed, wildly.

  But all he heard in response was those nightmarish sounds—horrible grunts and groans from inside, that radiated out even through the thick wood. He tried again to push against the entrance, throwing all of his weight into it, but the door was stuck fast, either blocked by those things on the other side or jammed in place by some other means. Perhaps the same thing that had opened the damn door in the first place, beckoning him inside, was now holding it shut and trapping James inside.

  As Ken continued his futile pounding, desperate to help his friend, an unshakable feeling washed over him: the feeling that he was being watched. He turned his head and froze, seeing that the notion had indeed been correct.

  The houses of the village—that had previously seemed abandoned—were now complete with figures standing in the open doorways. Upon focusing on these ‘people,’ Ken saw pale, twisted faces peeking back at him, both from the porches and also through the small windows.

  He knew that this was the same mob of twisted, inhuman spectres that had blocked the group’s escape from the forest earlier. Dressed in basic black-and-grey clothing, the male figures were wrapped in a mixture of dirty overcoats and linen shirts, while the women were donned in partlets, kirtles, and gowns, all of which reminded Ken—from his limited historical knowledge—of peasant clothing.

  The majority of them looked thin and gaunt, and their limbs seemed almost elongated. The skin was pale and mottled, lined with dark purple lines of the veins that bulged beneath, and their faces were the thing of nightmares—Francis Bacon paintings come to life. Twisted and deformed, like a melted waxwork, with wild and glinting yellow eyes that peered back at him.

  Looking at their demonic appearance was almost too much for Ken to bear, and he quickly pressed his back against the door behind him in fright—an involuntary reaction to what he had seen. His breath caught in his throat.

  Though none of the watching crowd moved at all, most of them were smiling, and their mouths pulled unnaturally wide in animalistic glee. The teeth behind were a mixture of short, yellow stubs, or long, misshapen points, and even black, horse-like incisors. A thought then pulled itself up to the forefront of Ken’s mind.

  Roberta was nowhere to be seen.

  Ken knew he needed to act, somehow, and wanted to turn back and continue to try and force open the door to the church. James was still inside and in great danger. But Ken did not dare turn his back on these townsfolk—if that was what they used to be—while they watched him. He had seen how quickly they could converge when his back was turned and did not want to let any of them out of his sight. Which meant that Ken was at an impasse—standing motionless, gazing upon the terrors that stared back, but not able to help James.

  A movement to Ken’s right drew his attention as a feminine figure stepped out from behind the church.

  It was Roberta. And she looked worse than ever.

  Her face and skin looked even closer to that of the demonic townsfolk than it was to the person who had entered this forest only a few days before. In addition, her eyes appeared sunken, and the smile she now wore was a horrible and malicious grin. Ken could see that many of the teeth behind her grin had blackened and a trail of black fluid, close to saliva in consistency, ran from her mouth, dripping from her chin.

  ‘Hello, Ken,’ she said, the words drawn out in a seductive tone that would have been more convincing had her voice not been so rough and strained. It didn’t sound like Roberta speaking
at all, but a sinister imposter. Which, Ken realised, might actually be close to the truth. She went on, ‘So eager to get back inside, are you? That might be a mistake. I think the children in there are a little busy at the moment, so I’d take the reprieve while you can. But don’t worry, Kenny-boy, Mother will make sure your turn comes around soon enough.’ She let out a child-like giggle.

  ‘What the hell is going on, Roberta?’ Ken asked, on the verge on tears. His mind threatened to shatter into a thousand shards, given the terror and insanity of it all. ‘Why are you being like this?’

  Roberta laughed again and took a step towards him. ‘Because I want to. I want to prove myself to my new family.’ She then cast an arm out, gesturing farther into the depths of the village, towards the others present. Ken followed her movement, then gasped as he saw that the inhabitants of the cursed place had suddenly and silently grouped close to him, now standing only a few feet away.

  ‘Get away from me!’ Ken instinctively said and pressed himself farther into the door behind him in a futile bid to squirm away. But there was nowhere to go.

  Roberta moved out before Ken and joined the things she had called her family, standing centrally among them. After she did, none of these demonic figures made a move towards her, instead happy to let her stand unharmed within their ranks.

  And Ken understood at that moment that Roberta was truly one of them, and completely lost to him. How it all had happened, he could not comprehend, but that didn’t change what he was clearly seeing, and Roberta smiled again, showing her blackened teeth.

  ‘If you don’t mind,’ she said. ‘We would like to go in there. Could you be a doll and get out of the way?’

  She took a step forward, closer to Ken, and the mass of townsfolk around her moved as well. They didn’t take a physical step as she had, but they came forward all the same—gliding from their original position and appearing closer to him, like they were somehow shifting through reality. Ken couldn’t help but let out a scream.