by Glenn Rolfe
“Christ, Hooper, there’s another one and he’s got something–” Walt saw the man’s intentions. He fired twice, he was out of range, but knew he had to do something. He had to try. It wasn’t good enough.
“No!”
“Chief?”
Walt ignored his dead legs, and pumped harder. He willed himself forward. Hooper passed him on the left. He discharged his weapon until it clicked.
Their efforts were futile.
It tossed the folded body into the fire.
***
Connor felt his flesh singe, the hairs on his arms, legs, and head caught flames instantly. He screamed and thrashed as his beaten body burned. A lock, pop, and crack threw sparks to his right. He rolled out of the flame and came to a stop four feet from the pit.
He registered the gunshots.
Help.
***
“Get him, I’m going after the son of a bitch,” Walt said.
“Chief, let me.”
Walt hated to admit it, but his legs and his back were ready to give.
“Okay, go!”
Hooper charged off toward the trees.
Smoke rolled up from the man on the ground. He was wheezing. His scalp was charred. The stench was horrible. His hands and legs were tied together with barb wire. He was visibly broken. He was still alive, but Walt didn’t think he’d make it.
He knelt down next to him. I’m gonna get you outta here, son.”
He reached into his belt and yanked out his Leatherman. He opened it up and maneuvered around to the guy’s back. The man’s t-shirt had burn holes. He’d been lucky it hadn’t gone up like his hair. He could see the material was damp with blood and sweat.
“Hold on, son, I’m gonna snip this wire off.”
He went for the wire around the victim’s head first.
Walt steadied his hands, and then slipped the teeth of the pliers past the wire stretched across his ear. He caught it in the snips and clenched the handle.
The wire gave.
“Uuuhhh, ahhhhh… mm… mmmm...”
Walt moved to where he was bound behind his back. He clipped the wire that hooked the guy’s wrists and ankles at the small of his back. The guy’s limp, red legs slid down.
“One more.” He snipped the wire at the man’s wrists.
The man blubbered and wheezed.
Shock.
He rolled him onto his back.
He looked him in the eyes. Eyes that pleaded for relief and understanding.
“You’re gonna be okay, son. I need you to be brave and hold on, okay? There’s an entire squad of State Troopers on their way here right now. I need to make sure we get the monster that did this. Yeah?”
The guy’s body trembled.
Walt glanced around the encampment. He got up and rushed to the tent. A couple of tattered blankets sat scrunched up on the side of the tent. He grabbed them both and hurried back to the man. He covered him with one blanket, and then the other. “Hold on, son”
Walt pulled his pistol and headed after Hooper.
He hadn’t heard any more shots or shouts. No telling if Hooper had caught him. Walt wasn’t so sure that was a good thing.
Halfway up the incline the trail opened.
Hooper lay impaled on a long pipe that stood from the center of his back with his knees in the dirt, and his hands on the ground at the ends of his lifeless, dangling arms. Blood drooled from his gaping mouth.
Walt ducked low, his gaze sharp and his wits shaken, but alert. The surrounding darkness seeped into his soul. He’d just entered some kind of hell and he was about to meet the boss.
He knelt next to Hooper.
His pistol was gone.
“Where are you, you nasty son of a bitch,” he muttered.
“Right here,” the gruff voice said from behind him.
He spun down onto his back and raised his pistol in one fluid motion. He raised the gun at the hulking shadow that stood before him. However, as he lifted the gun to aim at the beast, his back spasmed. His right arm dipped at the explosion of pain he’d managed to fend off all night. He squeezed the trigger. His shot went wide.
His stomach flashed with heat. His ears signaled the shot from Hooper’s weapon.
Voices erupted from the encampment.
The cavalry.
Too damn late.
His left hand slid into the wet warmth that bloomed at his naval.
He raised his right knee and moaned. He clutched his pistol at his side behind the leg.
“You took my blood. Now I’ll have yours,” the woodsman said and raised Hooper’s gun.
Walt dropped his knee, steadied his gun at his hip, and squeezed off the shot.
The woodsman’s head jerked back. His gun went off.
Walt closed his eyes ready for the end.
He felt the dirt kick up next to his ear.
Three more shots ripped through the dark night.
“He’s down, he’s down. We dropped him.”
“Looks like we got two more. Could be Chief Hanson and… oh God…”
Walt’s hold on his wound weakened. Behind his eyelids, he saw Ellen.
He meant to take another look at the world, but descended into a deeper darkness instead.
***
The shape in the trees hurried away, back to the mountains.
***
“Did they find Derek?” Heather said. She clung to Chris’s arm.
“He’s dead.”
“No! No!”
She collapsed at his feet, emotionally drained and in tears.
The people huddled together on the porch and in the backyard, faded.
Blue light spun and lit the night.
“Mike?” she whispered.
“They got him and the girl, too.”
She knew what happened to Jesse. He’d finally caught up to all those ghosts.
Heather cried for them all.
Epilogue
Luke sat by the lake in his wheelchair. The memories of last fall were as fresh as the recurring nightmares. He’d lost both of his feet and his left eye, but he was still here. He wished he would have gotten a chance to say thank you to the policemen who chased off and killed his captors. They said the Chief and Officer Hooper gave their lives that night to put a stop to the savages. Turned out it was an old family of backwoods folk who the town thought had left twenty plus years before. Instead, they’d been up there in the mountains and would travel down and set up camps from time to time to abduct people to bring back with them. The State Police discovered the remains of over twenty women and children. Only a handful of those were from the bloodline of the woodsmen.
“Luke?” his mother said.
“Yeah, mom?”
“He’s here.”
Excitement snuffed out the somber recollections. Luke grabbed his wheels, got turned toward the shore, and headed down the dock.
“Hey, buddy,” Connor said.
“Connor, guess what”
“What’s up?”
“Mom says I can go.”
“Awesome, man.” He smiled. He had his arm behind his back.
Connor’s knit cap was a permanent fixture and the burn marks on his lower legs and his arms poked out through his spring and summer uniform– a t-shirt and cargo shorts.
Luke tried not to look at Conner’s scars, or the grin he had that slid into place every time Luke’s mom touched him. They’d started off as friends, but began dating a couple months ago. He thought it’d be weird, but Connor was cool. Plus, his mom really liked him. Luke couldn’t think of a better choice for her.
“Do you want to tell him?” Connor said.
“Tell me what?” He looked from Connor to his mom.
“I’m pregnant.”
Luke looked at Connor. Connor’s crooked smile was another reminder of their shared experience. “Why so serious” was a quote he’d grown quite fond of hearing.
“Well?” Connor said.
“That’s…”
&
nbsp; He could see the worry cross their features.
“You aren’t pissed are you?” Connor said.
“Are you kidding me? That’s great news. I’m gonna be a big brother!”
“Here’s the first picture.”
Luke rolled forward and took the black and white photo. It looked like a static.
“It’s that speck right there.”
“Cool.”
“All right, man. Do you have your stuff packed?”
He stared at the picture a few seconds longer. His eyes watered.
“What’s wrong, sweetie?” his mother said.
He thought about the speck as a baby. Innocent. He or she would be the only one in their household not tainted with their horror story.
He smiled, handed the photo to his mom, and wiped his eye with the bottom of his t-shirt.
“Nothing, ma. I think it’s awesome. She’ll be beautiful.”
“She?” His mom said.
“Yeah, I think it’s a girl.”
“We’ll have to wait and see,” she said.
He gazed at Connor.
“My stuff’s on the porch.”
“All right, buddy. Foo Fighters, Boston, Mass–here we come.”
Connor gave his mom a peck on the cheek and ran up the lawn.
“This really is great news, ma.”
“I think so, too. Something positive.”
“From a negative,” he replied.
She ruffled his hair and got behind him.
As she pushed him up the lawn his gaze drifted to the swaying branches of the pine trees at the water’s edge. Something small ducked out of sight. His arms broke out in goose bumps. He swallowed hard.
“Stop,” he said.
She did.
“What? What is it?”
He stared at the spot where he’d seen the shape disappear.
“I thought…”
He watched a minute longer. His mom’s patience made all the difference in the world. These “sightings” were what his doctor referred to as memory flashes. Basically, his mind saw things that weren’t there.
With the exception of the little wave of the branches above, the spot was empty.
“It’s okay. I’m okay.”
“Ready to rock?” Connor said.
“Yeah, let’s roll.”
THE END
About The Author
Glenn Rolfe is an author, singer, songwriter and all around fun loving guy from the haunted woods of New England. He has studied Creative Writing at Southern New Hampshire University, and continues his education in the world of horror by devouring the novels of Stephen King and Richard Laymon.
He and his wife, Meghan, have three children, Ruby, Ramona, and Axl. He is grateful to be loved despite his weirdness.
He is the author of Abram’s Bridge, Boom Town, Things We Fear, The Haunted Halls, and Blood and Rain. His first novella collection, Where Nightmares Begin, has also been released.
He is working diligently on more titles and loves to hear from his readers. Find him at www.glennrolfe.com.
Coming Soon
Vicious Circle: Season Two – Episodes 1-4
Hunter of the Dead by Stephen Kozeniewski
Renovation by Sara Brooke
Find these and other horrific books at www.sinistergrinpress.com
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Epilogue
About The Author
Coming Soon