Ten Open Graves: A Collection of Supernatural Horror

by David Wood

  No longer taking his grip for granted, Kyle went down the ladder one careful rung at a time. When he got to the sluice gate he found it partway open and spilling reservoir water in a thick gush that made the rain seem paltry. The lowest rungs were covered by the flow, so he had to bend as he reached into the backpack and pulled out a C4 brick. On the back of it was an industrial adhesive covered by a layer of waxy plastic, which he peeled off and let flutter away in the wind before reaching out as far as he could without risking another fall, and slapped the C4 brick onto the middle of the sluice gate. The detonator's red light stayed lit.

  “One down, three to go.”

  Kyle climbed back up, the clock in his head ticking louder than ever, and went to the next ladder, repeated the process, then went to the third. With the ladders as precarious as they were, he focused his mind on the rungs in front of him like a laser, blocking out nearly everything else around him.

  As he stuck the third C4 brick in place, a strange whistling sound niggled at the back of his mind, but it wasn't until the adhesive hit the sluice gate that he pulled out his focus enough to see what made the weird noise. His eyes barely turned away from the dam when he saw a black shape fly at him. It was so large it blocked out the flaming town in the distance behind it. Kyle tried to gauge its speed and distance and how far he was from the top of the dam, but his body reacted without conscious thought and swung him around to the tiny ledge in front of the sluice gate. Water pounded his legs and feet, threatening to send him flying, but half a second later the flying beast hit the section of ladder he'd just be hanging from hard enough to dent the metal and crack the dam's concrete.

  An impact like that would have killed any normal creature, but the great black beast was anything but normal. Catching itself before it could bounce away or fall, the monster clung to the ladder with one hand and growled, then reached out with the other to claw Kyle's face off. Kyle fought against the water pouring behind him and took a step backward, taking him just out of reach, but not so far that he didn't feel the wind buffet him as the claw raked past his face. He looked from the hand to the black face that growled at him from the ladder, and a bomb went off in his stomach when he recognized it. The face and body beneath it were mangled, shredded hunks of dark flesh hanging in stripes, but the fury that emanated from its black eyes was unmistakable. It was the creature from the mine. How it had survived the continuous miner's ravenous drumhead Kyle didn't know. If being shredded by a hundred whirling carbide teeth couldn't kill it, then what would?

  The monster took another swipe at Kyle and howled loudly, but the sudden scream of tortured metal was even louder, and Kyle cheered as the ladder it clung to snapped where it had hit it and pulled away from the concrete like a banana peel. The beast tried to clamber over the tilting ladder, but his movements only hastened its fall, and in seconds he and it were plunging into the river far below.

  Feeling the clock's ticking in his bones, Kyle wasted no time in leaping for the rung still connected to the dam. It hung at head height, but he made the leap with little trouble. Like a monkey climbing up a tree he scrambled to the top and turned toward the fourth and final ladder. Just one more explosive left.

  He was halfway there and gaining confidence when the dark monster rose up from the dam and flew straight for him. Kyle lunged out of the way into a shoulder roll. The beast was fast, though, and blocked the way as he got to his feet. The ladder Kyle needed lay behind it, but it might as well have been on the moon. Kyle knew he wouldn't be able to get to it, go down, and plant the last explosive with that thing attacking him every step of the way. It would slice him to ribbons before he even made it to the ladder. Figuring three explosives were better than nothing, Kyle changed direction and ran for the Honda.

  Moving faster than Kyle thought possible, the monster flapped its wings and zoomed past him, then landed, blocking that route as well. The look on its ravaged face was that of a cat who wanted to play with his food a bit before eating it. Kyle's fear turned to anger. He wasn't a fucking mouse, and he refused to be played with. He looked past the beast, then behind him, then to either side, looking for any advantage, any way out. His review yielded him only one option.

  Moving before his mind could lock him in place, Kyle pivoted to his right, ran half a dozen feet, and leapt into the air. The fall wouldn't be a long one, and the river was deep, so he knew he'd survive the fall. His worry at that moment was getting far enough away from the dam before he blew the gates. Once he did that, the water would come fast and furious. He didn't want to be anywhere near the river when it did, so he—

  Something large smashed into him. It wasn't the river below, as he'd expected, but something behind him. Claws gouged into his sides, and a foul stench clouded around his head. He didn't have to look over his shoulder to know what had happened.

  “I'm going to kill you so slowly.” The monster’s words, rank and cold, slid past his ear. “You'll beg me to end your life, scream for it, and then I'll just go slower. Your soul is mine.”

  Kyle didn't doubt the beast's words. Not for a second. The pain of the claws pressing harder and harder into his sides as the beast flew into the sky was proof enough, but it was the chilling certainty in the voice that cemented it. Whatever hope Kyle had had of getting away to safety was gone. Now his future had become a grim inevitability of pain followed by a slow death. Even that would be a mercy compared to what the rest of the world had in store for it when the mountain's evil heart fully awoke and pulled itself into the night. He thought of Taylor and her girlfriend, of the guys in his unit, of the kids he'd pulled out of the mine, and of Maya, who even as he was carried higher and higher sat on the mountain and waited for him to pull the trigger.

  Kyle's head jerked as the image of the remote trigger entered his brain, the trigger that was in the backpack dangling from his arm. Time was running out for him, but it wasn't for everyone else. Moving as quickly as he could, he reached over, unzipped the pack's side pocket, and withdrew the radio detonator. As he shifted the pack its top opened, and in the dark interior he saw the red light of the last primed C4 brick. He shook his arm to get rid of the backpack, but the winged nightmare holding him ripped its left claws from Kyle's side and grabbed the pack before it could fall.

  “What's this?” the beast asked with a thick chuckle. “You should know by now that I am eternal. Whatever little weapon you've got in here won't save you or this world. It's over.”

  As the beast squeeze him tighter, all feeling left Kyle’s body. He felt numb, yet he was glad. He knew what he had to do, and the singular purpose to which his life narrowed had a certain comfort to it. The beast was right – it was over. But for the rest of the world and for those he loved there would be another dawn. When he flipped open the trigger guard and pressed the detonation button, he smiled.

  Stillwater River glowed red and gold as a small sun filled the sky above it.

  Maya and the dark god screamed as Kyle sacrificed himself, and Maya was hurled from its raging mind. Horror filled Maya as the echo of what she’d witnessed resounded through her head. The new love in her heart was scarcely a day old, yet the pain of it being torn from her hurt so badly she wanted to open her chest and take it out, smash it, be free of it. Through everything she'd suffered, none of it hurt as much as watching Kyle take his life so others would live.

  But, as the evil in the mountain continued to rage, she realized his sacrifice held a deeper meaning. Kyle had given his life in a selfless act of love, and in so doing he'd given the oncoming water a power it wouldn't have had otherwise. His sacrifice sanctified it, and the evil in the dark knew.

  “No!” it screamed in her mind as the mountain beneath her shuddered. “I will sleep no more! My time has come!”

  With terrifying speed the river swelled and water spilled over the banks, overtaking everything in its path. As the water surged into the mine, the evil buried within it raged and thrashed. Tentacles the size of trees smashed against stone as it struggled to free
itself. Great slabs of stone fell, and the mountain’s peak quaked as it fell inch by terrible inch. A hole suddenly opened in the cavern’s ceiling, and with a titanic lurch the ancient evil heaved itself upward.

  “The world is mine! I am free once more, and all will suffer for my pleasure!”

  Thoughts of victory rolled away from it in great red psychic waves, overwhelming Maya’s fevered mind with images of dark bodies being tortured as they screamed and burned. But, before the ancient evil could reach the top, the flood reached the cavern and it was drowned again, buried in water along with the bodies of dead miners, scattered equipment, and rocks torn from the walls and ceiling. Within moments the cavern was filled and sealed shut. Ever so slowly the dark one’s terrible thoughts drifted away, its mind still raging but growing more and more faint, until eventually it wasn't there at all.

  Standing on the mountain and looking down at water that was much closer than she'd ever believed possible, Maya felt the primordial power return to its long slumber. An echo of Kyle's smile flitted across her face, but tears framed it, adding their own power to the swollen river. The danger was over, for now at least. Kyle had bought the world a second chance.

  To the east, storm clouds broke apart, and thin streams of early morning light fell, turning the water around her gold.

  Epilogue

  “I can't believe he's gone.” Tears flowed down Taylor’s face. She stood next to Maya, the two of them looking down at what had once been the town of Stillwater. Behind them stood the rest of the kids Kyle had saved, all of them crying over those they'd lost, what had been washed away. None of them entered the dawn unscathed, and their tears flowed for a good long while.

  The weak light that filtered through the thinning clouds was more than enough to show the devastation. Roofs and buildings poked up like islands, and debris was everywhere. Bodies floated here and there in the distance.

  “I wish I could say that his death...” Maya didn't know what to say, how to bring comfort to someone she barely knew when her own pain nearly brought her to her knees. “He did it for us, Taylor. It doesn't make it easier, I know, but in the end his only thought was of us. He saved the world. Goddammit...it hurts like hell, but he's gone, and we have to go on. Maybe in a few years we'll appreciate that.”

  Taylor nodded, and the two women leaned against each other. Shared pain was better. It wasn't until one of the kids stepped up and spoke that Maya wiped her tears away.

  “So what do we do now?” Hanna asked. “I don't... We don't have homes anymore, or parents. What are we supposed to do?”

  In the back of her mind Maya wondered the same thing. “You stay here, I guess. Someone has to have noticed what happened. They'll probably have the National Guard out here before the day's out. They'll take care of you...somehow.”

  “But what do we tell them?” Brett asked, his eyes wide and looking around for answers. “I mean, I know shit is all fucked up and all, but what happens when we tell them about...you know...the crazy stuff in the mine?”

  Maya squared her shoulders, and for the first time that morning the pain of Kyle's death took a backseat. “You don't tell them anything. At most you say...you were all hanging out together, maybe you wanted to party at the cabin, let some steam off. If they press you, tell them you don't know what happened. If you say it enough you'll believe it too. Trust me, we all live with lies we don't remember the truth of. You were here, together, there were some strange noises off in the distance, and you woke up to find...that.” She pointed at the flooded town.

  “Is that what you'll tell them too?” Taylor asked.

  “No,” Maya replied, shaking her head. “It would be better if I wasn't around. You kids live here, so you're expected. They'll believe you if you all stick together. But I'm different. Me being here will raise a lot of questions I don't want to answer. I can't answer.”

  Taylor lowered her eyes and nodded. “Yeah, I guess so. I guess this means your book is out too.”

  “Yeah, it is.” Maya had come to the same conclusion earlier. It wasn't that she was afraid people wouldn't believe her, that they'd think she made it all up. She was more afraid someone would believe her, and that they'd come to Stillwater, search around, and somehow unleash the evil all over again. There were very bad people in the world, and some of them would love nothing more than to get at the evil in the mountain. No, no one needed to know what had really happened here. It was over, and that had to be enough.

  Taylor nodded again, as did the rest of the kids. After a few minutes of sporadic conversation, the kids started drifting apart, each one wrapped up in their own grief and confusion. Maya saw that as her cue to go, but as she turned toward Dirk's truck parked further up the mountain Taylor walked over to her and touched her arm.

  “I know this might sound weird,” the young woman said, her face pale as snow in the sunlight, “but I was wondering if Morgana and I could come with you. We could...I don't know...be your assistants or something. We'd earn our own way, help you however you needed. Just...take us with you.”

  Maya looked down at a pair of eyes that were mixed in sadness and hopelessness, and her heart thudded in her chest. “But what about your homes? Your lives here?”

  “What life?” Taylor replied, her hand sweeping out toward the lake where Stillwater used to be. “What home? We've got nothing here anymore. No parents, no homes, so school, and barely any friends. The only thing we've got are lives my brother died for, and we're not going to waste it picking through the rubble in this fucking place. I want to do something with my life. And, frankly, when I look at you I...I feel like Kyle is close by. Maybe that's sad or stupid, but it is what it is, and I don't want to give that up.”

  A warm weight pressed into Maya's chest, and even though she staggered under it, it gave her hope and finally a sense of something other than sadness.

  “It's not stupid,” she said. “I see Kyle in you too, and right now keeping his spirit with us sounds like the best idea I've ever heard. Come on. If we're going, we need to go now before the authorities show up. And no offense, but I have seen all of Stillwater I can stand.”

  Taylor and Morgana laughed. It was a small sound, barely enough to brighten their eyes, but it was enough.

  “No offense taken,” Taylor replied. “Believe me, we are so done with this town. Let's get as far away from it as that piece of crap truck will take us.”

  It was Maya's turn to laugh, and when she did she felt a tiny piece of her sadness break off and fly away into a sky that was clear, and bright, and warm.

  The End

  If you enjoyed Still Water, try Fragile by Justin R. Macumber.

  Justin Macumber is the author of Amazon Bestsellers HAYWIRE (Gryphonwood Press) and A MINOR MAGIC (Crescent Moon Press). When he is not hard at work on his next novel he co-hosts the Dead Robots’ Society podcast. He and his lovely wife live in the Dallas/Fort Worth Metroplex with a crazy pack of dogs and cats that run them ragged. You can find him online at justinmacumber.com and deadrobotssociety.com. He is also a co-host and reviewer for the popular Hollywood Outsider podcast, which is located at thehollywoodoutsider.com.

  REFUGE-NIGHT OF THE BLOOD SKY BY JEREMY ROBINSON

  Rebecca Rule is the sheriff of Refuge, New Hampshire. Her biggest concern is the rowdy summertime revelers making their way up from Massachusetts and New York. With most of the town’s residents in neighboring Ashland, for the Fourth of July fireworks show, Refuge is quiet. That is, until the Baptist Church’s bell starts ringing—on its own.

  The bell chimes faster and faster, reaching a frenetic pace, as though rung by the Devil himself. But the bell is just the beginning. The air shimmers. The night-time sky fills with a burning red aurora. The moon, previously a crescent, is now full. And just hours after dusk, the sun returns to the sky, revealing an endless desert where there was once a mountainous pine forest.

  Rule must guide the confused and frightened residents of Refuge through the first terrifying hours of acclimati
ng to this horrifying new environment, while protecting them from inhuman dangers both inside and outside of the town’s newly clean-cut borders.

  In a world gone haywire, only one thing is certain, no one in Refuge will ever forget the night of the blood sky.

  They wandered in the scorching desert; they found no city to dwell in. Hungry and thirsty, their soul fainted in them. Then they cried unto the Lord in their trouble, and he delivered them out of their distresses. And he led them forth by the right way, that they might go to a city of refuge.

  Psalms 107:4–7

  Chapter 1

  “What! You can’t be serious, Becky,” Phillip Beaumont said, in a voice that sounded closer to a petulant six-year-old’s than that of a grown man. “I’ve only been parked here five minutes tops.” The bespectacled man thrust his milk gallon and bag of groceries out as evidence.

  “Don’t much matter, Monty. You can’t be breaking laws in my town, especially not those regarding the less fortunate.”

  Monty’s arms fell slack, the heavily weighted plastic bag nearly scraping against the parking lot pavement. His head tilted back and his mouth fell agape, emitting a sound like a wounded moose. “Becky, there hasn’t been a handicap person in Refuge since Bill McGill kicked the bucket five years ago.”

  “Law’s the law, Monty. We’re going to be swimming in vacationing Massholes and New York Yankmees for the next three months. If I go soft now, we’re going to have to rename the town Bedlam come the end of summer.” Sheriff Rebecca Rule ripped off the ticket stub and held it out. “And it’s ‘Sheriff’ while I’m wearing the hat, okay?”