Wake the Wicked

by Christian Baloga

  To its right, a life-size robotic bear stood tall to the left of a maroon lounge chair. Light reflected off its green marbled eyes, making them seem to come to life. They weren't angry though, merely alive.

  To the chair's right was a large window overlooking a clearing. She spotted the pulley the bucket was attached to and to its right, a square table with two small chairs and a trashcan, then back to the door again.

  Metallic glints from above pierced her eye. She looked up. Tiny spaceships dangled from the ceiling by transparent string. She couldn't figure out what movie or TV show they were from.

  "You like?" Cody seemed to have noticed Bridget’s eyes light up as they darted toward the robotic bear again.

  Bridget hesitated. "Uh-huh." Things she had considered essentials to living, in the watchtower, were nil; a sink, for instance, or a bed, or for goodness sake a toilet. However, there were metal deer antlers, robotic bears, and spaceships swaying from the ceiling. She didn't realize how odd Cody was until now.

  "No running water, no electricity. Buuut we've got lanterns." He tossed a box of matches onto the table. "And a comfy couch with a pullout bed! It's like camping."

  "Like camping," Bridget repeated. A fresh breeze blew through her hair. She hated camping.

  All of a sudden the entire room moved. The floorboards flexed and creaked. The spaceships above swayed.

  "What's going on? Why're we swaying? Cody?"

  Cody stood and laughed. "It's okay. We're fine. That's how I built it, to move with the wind."

  This is the watchtower? she thought. The one that “healed” Cody of his ailments? An adult tree house, that's all it was.

  Cody paced the small room, from couch to table from table to wall. It was evident to Bridget he wanted to leave, but was she ready for him to? His phone beeped. He picked it out of his pocket, then paced more. "Gonna kill me," he said, biting his lip.

  "Who's gonna kill you?" Bridget asked in a soft voice.

  "Well." He cleared his throat. "I wasn't going to say anything, but my girlfriend is pissed I'm with you. She didn't even want me to bring you up here. She thinks I'm gonna come up in the middle of the night and fuck you raw or something." He shrugged. His face turned cherry red.

  So that's why Cody rushed out of his house earlier, because of his jealous girlfriend. She was the one breaking shit in the house, of course!

  "Are you going to be okay if I leave now?" Cody looked into her eyes.

  "She's got nothing to worry about," Bridget said. A disturbing image flashed through her mind, of Cody, stark naked Cody, holding an electric dildo and wagging his tiny dancing erection at her. The thought churned her stomach as if she'd eaten moldy cheese, the kind sprouting green and yellow fuzz.

  "You're safe up here." He took the window frame and shook it. "Look, this thing is made from sturdy driftwood. Every piece handpicked. You've got nothing to worry about. I promise. Here, take a look. It's beautiful. Com'mon." Cody lifted Bridget by the arm and brought her to the back window.

  Bridget adjusted her gaze. Far in the distance, she saw a delightful view of Saw Valley. Sun glistened through the rustling trees. Chickadees boogied on branches and glided through the air to the sound of their own chirps and tweets. It was at that moment when Bridget came to understand how this place could heal. Moments later, she felt calm enough to say adios to Cody.

  "Alright, I guess I’ll see you Sunday when the birds wake up. Call me if you need anything," Cody said, and his head disappeared off the deck.

  Bridget sat on the couch; it was more comfortable than it looked. Dewey jumped up next to her and licked her arm while she unzipped her backpack. She sifted through the dehydrated food and water bottles until she found her phone. Without electricity, she doubted it would last through the weekend. It showed two bars of service and 64% battery life. It should be strong enough to make calls.

  Bridget felt the boughs of the great poplar sway. She slammed both hands to the couch and latched on. "It's normal," she told herself. Dewey locked eyes with her, then gave her another kiss on the arm. "Thanks, Dew. I'll be okay . . . eventually."

  From where she sat, she could see the door. It was open, and she watched as a raven perched the railing of the deck. Dewey seemed to notice the black bird too, but didn't give it a second look. Bridget never realized how big they were, although this was the first she'd ever been this close to one.

  The raven locked eyes with Bridget and began a frenzy of squawking, like it was protesting their occupancy. "Shoo!" Bridget stood and waved her hands. The bird extended its wings and flew out of reach. A second later, it perched on a branch at Bridget's eye level and continued screeching out at her in deep caws.

  "Driving me nuts." Bridget closed the door. The cawing was still audible. She grabbed her phone and put her music player on shuffle at the highest volume. "So now what?" she asked Dewey, hoping for a response, but getting none. "Come here." She grabbed Dewey and tipped over on her side, giving her a belly rub.

  Bach's Minuet played in the background. The watchtower swayed back and forth, gently rocking her like a cradled baby. Not long after, she drifted into slumber.

  The music was still playing when she awoke. The sky had turned a hazy dark purple. How long had she slept? Great now I'll be up all fucking night, she thought, brushing hair out of her face. She looked around. The barrel-shaped wall was festooned with hurricane oil lamps.

  She picked up a box of matches from the middle of the square table and began igniting the oil lamps. The light was dim, but it illuminated the room enough to walk.

  Bridget picked out her phone from between the two couch cushions, and with it came a folded up piece of paper. It dropped to the floor.

  Her phone flashed 9:46 PM. A box popped up on screen. Less than 10% battery left, it warned. "Fuck," Bridget said, pausing the music. The jabbering from the raven had silenced. In its place, a serenade of crickets trilled from below.

  She reached for the fallen paper. It was blue lined and folded in the shape of a triangle. An outline of something inked in black was engraved within the sheet's guts. It reminded her of the notes she'd passed to friends in high school.

  The paper was stiff from being pressed between the cushions for who knows how long. She peeled back a corner and began unfolding. The first thing she saw was a set of thick animal horns sketched in black ink and drawn with a heavy hand.

  She didn't pay too much attention to the crickets or the eerie scraping noises sounding from somewhere below. She unfolded another piece, then another, revealing a crude sketch of a ram's head.

  The scraping sound came through the window again and echoed off the walls. Bridget was still too intrigued by the paper to care. She was high up, and whatever animal it was, was on the ground.

  Her fingers unraveled the tightly bound triangle and she flattened it out over her lap. A ram's head was attached to the body of a human. She smoothed a finger over the sketched area, traveling along the furrows and folds. The lines were scratched into the paper. A couple had been carved right through, gashed and fissured as though a wrathful hand had drawn it. Deep lines were scratched over the genital areas. Determining the sex was impossible. One thing wasn't ambiguous, though; its husky build.

  "Oh, Cody." Bridget sighed. She chuckled at the sketch as if she were looking at a portrait of him. She angled her phone over the paper and snapped a photo. She attached it to a text message and sent it to Cody, asking, "Can you explain this? Lol."

  But before Bridget could press send, the screen turned black. "Sh–iiit." She threw her phone into her backpack and petted the crown of Dewey's head. "It's us versus nature now."

  The misted purple sky darkened to full black. Bridget stuck her head out the back window. Not a single star flickered, disappointing her.

  A faint breeze rose, bringing with it a fetid smell of mud and mold. It stunk the way her bra had after she'd left it outside, all balled up and mildewed underneath the porch one summer.

  Leaves rustled for a mome
nt somewhere below, and the crickets ended their concert. Bridget peered down. It was too dark to see. The tree swayed under her and a branch cracked somewhere down below.

  Dewey hopped down from the couch, scurried to the door, and tilted her head up. Her black nose quivered and she let out a small groan.

  "Dewey, no bark," Bridget commanded in a delicate singsonging voice. "It can't get us way up here, sweetie." Bridget crossed her arms on the windowsill and rested her chin, still looking down. She kept a far enough distance so she could easily jump back, in case the side of the wall was to collapse. And after a couple minutes, her eyes adjusted to the dark night and she was able to make out a shifting shadowed figure hustling through woods. More branches cracked. How exciting! she thought, making a desperate attempt to shift her ears toward the noise and patrol the ground with her eyes at the same time.

  Dewey groaned, then looked up at Bridget, as if waiting for her to yell again. But she didn't. She was too enamored by the shadow lurking below. It was big, and by the way it staggered about, a little clumsy.

  The figure drew nearer, resonating a low groan. How Bridget wished she could figure out what the thing was! Maybe it was a wolf or fox. No, it was too big a creature to be any of those. Once it neared the watchtower tree, it began a clamor of scratching. What was it doing? It must be a buck sharpening its antlers or maybe a bear, sharpening its claws. Oh, she hoped it wasn't a bear; bears climb trees. However, bears can't unlock doors!

  The ignition of a torch's flame from below caught Bridget's attention. It wavered, illuminating a small portion of the surroundings. Although the details remained hazy, the figure was unmistakable. Bridget's eyes focused on the glinting figure as it grated its large curved horns into the poplar's thick trunk. She covered her mouth with both hands in horror and tucked all but her eyes inside the window. The animal stood on two feet, two bare human feet attached to human legs, a burly human torso, and human arms. Its head and neck, however, weren’t human, but a black ram's. Her mind flashed back to the drawing she found earlier.

  “Cody's playing tricks on us,” she whispered to Dewey and tiptoed over to the trashcan. She picked out the dirty diaper. Dewey came over to inspect. Bridget crouched to her level and pressed her index finger over Dewey's snout and lipped, Shhhh.

  Bridget stuck the top of her head out the window and pried down. She watched as torch flames left lingering light trails as the creature frolicked around the base of the poplar. She hovered the diaper out the window, waiting for the perfect time. Then, when the creature slowed, she released the piss filled diaper. Like a bag of sand, it fell, cracking through the limbs as it went.

  The creature heard the ruckus and jutted its head up in time for the diaper to splatter over its fat snout. It scratched at his face with its human hands and shook its head, and with one quick thrust knocked the piss bag off.

  Bridget watched the whole thing, but she couldn't control her laughter any longer and fell to the ground with tears in her eyes. She got up, cupped her hand out the window, and yelled, "Go home and fuck your wife. You know, she's probably going to kill us both if she sees you here like this."

  Then, in a manner making Bridget's stomach turn, it stood, like a tilted tombstone and glared up at her, silent.

  "Creepy asshole!" Bridget yelled and threw out another laugh, a pretend one this time. She didn't want him to think he got her.

  A low groan from the pit of the creature's belly rose out. Bridget's heart began a surge of pattering. She creeped inside until she felt safe.

  "I can help you," it said in a gruff voice.

  Bridget stood still, her eyes fastened to the creature below. It can help me? She wanted to ask what it meant, but something deep inside warned her not to.

  "I can help you." It paused and leaned its free hand against the tree and continued, "Like I helped your sister."

  The words seized Bridget's heart, and she felt as if she'd fallen over the window's edge. She looked away into the dark forest. She couldn't believe Cody would descend to this level for shits and giggles. It was not like him. He would never. Would he?

  "Bridget, please come down. Come down through the window. Your sister’s waiting."

  A million and one thoughts recoiled in Bridget’s mind as if an atomic bomb went off, each more terrible than the last.

  "She misses you, Bridget. Please come down. She asked me to get you. She misses you."

  Bridget felt a sickness erupt in the depths of her soul like she'd never experienced before.

  "She misses you Bridget." Its voice deepened to a guttural growl. "Jump, Bridge. Jump for me. Jump for Charlotte!"

  The moment it uttered her sister's name, she fell to her knees. She gazed into the lonely dark abyss. Dewey licked her arm in an attempt to comfort her. Bridget didn't flinch. The creature outside had stabbed her heart with the cruelest prank she could ever imagine.

  The walls came alive. Something scratched the outside as if trying to get in. Something was trying to get inside and Bridget sat on the couch, still as a corpse.

  "No, I won't allow him," Bridget whispered. "Won't allow this." She stood and leaned out over the window. She spotted something leaning against the tree—Cody's walking stick. It's him. He's doing this to me.

  The torch stood out of the ground, yet the beast was gone. She howled down at the flickering torch, "You're sick, you know that, Cody?" Wind rustled through her hair, and she heard branches scraping against the outer walls. "Don't ever speak of her again. You hear me?"

  There was no response. She felt a sense of empowerment standing up to whoever, or whatever, it was. It had to be Cody, right? After all, she's one rank above him and he knew she wouldn’t fuck things up. Yeah, he'd love if I jumped out the window, wouldn't he? He'd fucking love it.

  The wind picked up and the leaves and branches rustled like rattlesnake tails, drowning out all the other noises.

  Bridget jiggled the doorknob, making sure it was locked. It was. She checked it again for good measure. Branches, like skeleton bones, scratched the outside as if wanting to enter. "I’m not home!" she yelled over the racing wind.

  All of a sudden, the temperature dropped. Goosebumps rose from Bridget’s skin like warts. She held onto Dewey. The watchtower shifted under her feet. The walls bowed inward.

  Out of nowhere, an army of fists bashed against the door.

  It was here. It was trying to burst through the door.

  She stepped backward, with Dewey in her arms, until she pressed against the back wall.

  A fury of tapping erupted.

  Bridget saw the pulley swinging and banging against the outer wall. The pulley! She yanked down the rope on one side until the bucket rose to the window. She gave Dewey a kiss on the head and lowered her into the bucket. "Mommy loves you. Mommy loves you."

  Bridget lowered the bucket down at a turtle’s pace. A thick entanglement of branches clawed at the sides of the bucket and Dewey's fur.

  The bashing behind Bridget got worse. Her hands shook from Dewey's weight, an unadulterated fear.

  Two thick branches snatched the bucket and began a tangling game around the rope. Shit no! Bridget pulled up on the rope. It was stuck. She pulled up. Still no good.

  The beast stopped pounding. It finally stopped pounding! Bridget held her breath and looked behind her, toward the door, then she heard footsteps. The steps turned into a quick burst of trampling fury. And at that moment, she released the rope.

  Not a moment later, the door came crashing in. Bare feet kicked and a tight fist punched a hole through the door until it was big enough for entry.

  Bridget threw herself under the table before the creature saw her.

  "Bridge," its voice rose. "Bridget," its voice fell. It stammered around the room. It had small feet. Bridget wasn't able to see above its legs. Could this be a woman? Bridget thought. Could this be Cody's wife? Bridget had never met her. And for all Bridget knew, Cody's wife could be Medusa.

  It stammered closer. Feet shuffled the ca
rpeted ground. Closer. Closer it shuffled. It was real, whatever it was. It was alive, and it wanted Bridget dead, like her sister.

  "Bridget, jump for Charlotte. Won't you?"

  Bridget had enough. She moved her legs back and kneeled on all fours.

  "You weren't even at her side when she died. You were . . . working. What a dedicated worker. But you let your sister die alone! Bridget, do her a favor and jump for Charlotte!"

  Bridget thrust the table at the demon, but it blocked the object. It knew where she was all along. It was waiting for her to fight back, waiting for her sanity to break.

  She tripped over a chair and fell to the ground. But she kept going. She crawled out of the broken door to the tiny deck. The demon followed and pounced on her. Strong hands trapped her movement. It hissed at her and shot out low angry growls. The ram's head bobbed in front of her face like a balloon. Dry and lifeless black eyes followed her every twist and jerk.

  It growled, then yelled, "Bridge!" At that moment, she knew who the demon was. They crashed down, breaking the handle and tumbling over the ledge. Bridget's greatest fear was falling. And now, it was no longer a nightmare. It was happening.

  They bulleted down, down. For Bridget, it was all in slow motion, as if she were looking through a slideshow of photographs of falling branches and demon faces.

  Farther they fell.

  Downward into the darkness.

  Tree limbs sliced through Bridget's face and arms, ripping out chunks of blonde hair.

  Down to the darkness.

  They both hit the ground at the same time, making a terrible thunking that echoed off the trees. The ram's tight grip on Bridget lessened at once. She was free at last, but she didn't move. Neither of them flinched.

  Instantly, the fervent wind calmed to a light breeze. Crickets joined in chorus again, and the morning brought with it more signs of hope.

  A familiar yowl broke Bridget out from unconsciousness. She opened her eyes and screeched. She was lying on a naked man with his head covered in a loose fitting ram's head. It was real. The fear had been real. She rolled off the beast and stood.