Gravel Switch: the black goat chronicles book 1: a Weird Tale of Extreme Horror

by Davidson, Aleister

  The men all retired to the house, leaving Michael whimpering on the ground.

  The man with the shotgun joined them, leaving Hank alone with Alan. Before Hank could speak Alan whistled again.

  “Now we wait,” the local man said.

  Feeling as if he had nothing to lose Hank replied, “For What?”

  But his question was answered much more quickly that he thought it would be as two red eyes appeared, attached to the head of a hulking black form that reminded Hank of a wolf. He couldn’t tell where it had come from. It would have had to have walked a hundred yards across an open field to get to where they were, from any direction. Yet there it was, right atop Michael.

  Hank could smell the thing, a cross between rotting cheese and sewage. He had never smelled anything so wretched, not even the maggot-thing Larvamog itself. He assumed that the beast was one of the cosmic worm’s own terrible children. The spawn that could stalk the earth in bodies of flesh. He was not wrong.

  Its head lolled back and forth inches above Michael, slathering thick ropes of a wretched saliva-like ooze across his face. It let out a noise that could have been a wolf’s growl if it were coming through a megaphone. Just as Hank figured that it was indeed some sort of a mutant wolf a thick ropy tentacle appendage covered in suckers lashed out from its back and plunged into Michaels stomach. It made a sickening squelching sound and the gag did nothing to stifle Michael’s cry of total suffering.

  Then the thing began to pump life fluid through it it strong gulps, making lumps of blood bubble up through the tentacle appendage as it drank Michael’s life away. Hank turned to avert his eyes. There was a strong sulphur smell and a loud crack like thunder at ground level, then Hank could tell that the thing was gone.

  Michael was still alive, though bleeding profusely. He whimpered and shuddered. Hank watched in terror as Alan walked over to Michael and stuck a large hunting knife into the wound in his stomach and opened him up from sternum to navel. Michael gave out one last scream as his back arched up from the ground he was staked to and his life force left his body for good. Alan got on his knees and began to pull Michael’s intestines out by hand. He pulled out several feet of entrails and severed them off of the fresh corpse with the knife.

  Hank closed his eyes, he didn’t want to see such brutality. The gore was making him queasy and he thought that he would pass out. As he clenched his eyelids closed as tightly as he could an overwhelming anxiety overtook him. Then he felt the strong force of a blow to the face, across his right cheek. Hank dropped to his knees and before he could rise back up Alan had dumped several pounds of Michael’s guts over his head. A crown of guts and gore, excrement spilling out of the intestines all over Hank’s chest. He began to react, but before he could even move at all Alan put the hunting knife right into his face.

  “This is the bed you made motherfucker. Now you’re gonna lie in it bitch” Alan said in a spitting hiss, spraying Hank in the face with saliva as he spoke, though it mattered little. Hank was covered head, neck, shoulders and chest with the blood, guts and shit of Michael Williams.

  The man with the shotgun came back outside and pointed it at the back of Hank’s head. Alan demanded that he get back into the van. Hank did just as he was told, guts and all. He was too afraid to try to remove them again. As he walked he stopped for a moment to vomit and Alan laughed at him, a laugh of malicious pleasure.

  Alan drove Hank back to his house and he was happy to see that Amy was already home. Hopefully she would be able to help Lief and they would be armed and waiting when Alan returned. Hank was disappointed when Alan put him out of the truck at the same point where Amy had wrecked her car.

  “Walk bitch. And do be careful,” Alan said sarcastically. “There’s monsters out here and you’re covered with guts buoy.” Alan slammed the door and peeled out, leaving Hank alone in the moonlight, aware that something was watching him.

  He flung the intestines off of his neck and ran as fast as he could back to the house. When he got halfway down the driveway he started yelling for Amy and Lief but it was a minute before either of them made it outside. He collapsed on the porch, still drenched in Michael’s gore and fluids. He was in the midst of a full blown grand mal seizure when they got to him.

  19

  The Flood

  The traumatic events of the night before made quite an impression on the Ramsey’s and Lief, who had only been knocked out and suffered a little swelling from the blow he took. The big man in black with the shotgun had hit him in the forehead with the butt of the gun, he hadn’t even seen it coming. Hank recovered from his seizure and got himself cleaned up but was still quite shaken the next morning.

  The three discussed what to do over breakfast. Revenge was on all their minds but it didn’t seem to be a real option. How could they combat such forces? Hank’s questions about his sanity and the experiences he had been having were all answered. He felt crazier than ever admitting to himself that they were all one hundred percent real. When Hank recollected the event that took the life of Michael Williams they all seemed to come to the same conclusion. Getting out of Gravel Switch and moving somewhere far, far away was the only option for survival. They all needed to disappear and adopt new identities. Lief agreed that he would move with them and change his name. The Pacific Northwest or the San Francisco Bay Area seemed to be the favorite choices. Amy had an uncle in Washington state up near the Canadian border and Hank had an old high school friend who lived in San Francisco. Lief didn’t care much either way what they did. He just didn’t want to get caught up in any of the violence that was sure to follow.

  And just like that, over bacon and eggs, coffee and a joint in the morning the three of them decided that there was no fighting the cult, there was no cleansing the house, there was no survival unless they packed their bags up and left as soon as possible.

  They spent the next couple of weeks packing up much of what they had into boxes. Hank was finally able to convince Amy that she was a hoarder and that they had accumulated a lot of junk since she had been working at Walgreen’s. They threw out a lot of her junk and had a large bon fire in the back yard one night and burned some furniture, clothes and books that they no longer wanted. Hank dialed back his production of marijuana and had his final cycle planted in rockwool cubes. It was twenty eight days out from harvest and then it had to dry. After that they could move on and leave the nightmare that was Gravel Switch behind them. The future looked bright, brighter than it had when they had first decided to leave Lexington. Just over a month to go didn’t seem like too daunting of a prospect considering all that they had been through.

  Chris Wilson came to the house to help them pack. They were happy to see him and to get all the help they could get. Even though Hank had known Chris for most of his life he was not comfortable sharing the full extent of what they were going through. Chris could tell that something major was happening, but he gave them their privacy for the most part, only inquiring where it was that they were going to move to.

  Halfway through the day Hank took him aside and revealed that they would be disappearing. Changing identities and moving to the west coast were only part of it. Chris understood that it would be the last time that he saw his dear friend. They reminisced about old times, hanging out with Yuri and their other friends Kevin and Justin, who had moved to San Francisco in the nineties.

  Chris rolled a joint up and took Hank out onto the front porch, sitting in a rocking chair he lit the joint and sighed deeply. They didn’t speak much but they both knew it was the last joint that they would ever smoke together, which was something major for them both as their entire group of friends had all come together around their common love of marijuana back in high school. It was a bittersweet moment for them both. The end of an era.

  Just as they got down to the roach the sun was setting out over the barn. They stood on the porch arms around each other’s shoulders, two old friends taking in a beautiful sunset before parting ways forever. There serene moment
was shattered by Amy screaming at the top of her lungs, “Hank! Come quick! Hank! It’s Lief! He’s trapped in the bathroom. They won’t let him out! He’s being attacked!”

  Hank ran into the house, followed by Chris. Amy was in the hallway banging on the bathroom door. Water was coming out from under the door and they could hear that the sink was running. Chris nudged Amy aside and threw his shoulder into the heavy oak door. It groaned under his weight but it took three more times and a fierce front kick to blast the door open. It splintered the door frame around the lock.

  When they got the door open things were dire indeed. Lief was lying on the floor with a needle still in his arm and his lips were blue and his skin pale, grayish-white. His eyes were rolled back in his head and his mouth was full of foam. As Chris and Hank got the apprentice out of the bathroom Amy slipped in and turned the water off. She knew that the flood in the bathroom would mess the floor up and the landlord would want to charge them to fix it, but she really didn’t care. None of it mattered anymore anyway.

  Hank and Chris got Lief to Chris’s car and without even consulting Amy or taking the time to tell her what was happening they peeled out, spun the car around and blasted down the driveway on the way to the closest hospital. Chris drove like a madman and when they got to Danville Hank was surprised that they didn’t get pulled over.

  They got to the hospital and Chris pulled up into the emergency lane for ambulances. Hank jumped out and ran inside letting the first nurse he could find know that his friend was dying of an overdose in the car. Within a few seconds a code blue alert was issued over the hospital’s public address system and several personnel came running out of the hospital to the car.

  Lief was pulled out of the car, strapped to a gurney and as they started wheeling him inside Hank stood still in shock unable to hear the questions that a doctor was asking him. Chris stepped in to answer for him as the gurney disappeared down a hallway and behind a door. The last thing Hank saw before Lief was gone from his sight was a nurse doing chest compressions and another strapping an oxygen bag to his face, trying their best to resuscitate the unfortunate young man.

  Chris moved his car out of the emergency ambulance only area after a sheriff came up and reminded him that he needed to or he would be ticketed. Hank found a seat in the waiting room and the weight of the situation came to bear down on him when he realized that he would have to call Mr. and Mrs. Gutsell and tell them their son had overdosed on heroin. Even if Lief survived it would be a horrible experience to tell them about it. He wondered if his life was nothing but sorrow and insanity.

  Chris came back into the emergency room waiting area and sat with Hank. He wasn’t there ten minutes before a doctor came out to see them. Before the man even spoke to them they could tell Lief was gone. Hank began to cry a steady stream of tears as the doctor’s words hit ears that had heard enough bad news.

  They had to stay at the hospital for several hours. Hank had a lot of questions to answer. Doctors, cops, ultimately Lief’s parents would have to get an explanation. He left the job of delivering the bad news to the doctor. He didn’t have the heart to tell the Gutsells that their son had died. The fact that he was only nineteen was what Hank kept fixating on. It seemed like such a horrible waste of potential, of life.

  After several hours of questions the doctors and police officers let Hank and Chris go. There were so many heroin overdoses in Kentucky that it was not uncommon, even in Danville. Hank had been worried that the cops were going to want to come to his house and search it, ostensibly for Lief’s dope. He was petrified that they would raid him, but the officer in charge set his mind at ease and assured him that they were just trying to get the story straight. Since they brought him into the hospital they could rule out foul play and if they went around raiding everyone who had a person overdose at their home they would spend a lot of time and effort, not to mention money, to little effect. Hank was shocked that he found a humanizing element in the officer. The man behind the badge showed him compassion during his time of grief.

  “Maybe it has something to do with being a small town cop?” Hank wondered.

  Chris drove Hank back to Gravel Switch several hours later than he was supposed to be home. He was due back in Lexington at midnight and didn’t leave the hospital in Danville until three in the morning. After getting Hank home he decided to crash out there and go back to Lexington in the morning. He had forgotten to call his wife during all of the commotion of tragedy. When he got back to Gravel Switch he called her first thing, seeing on his cell phone screen that she had left him several voice mail messages. When he got her on the line she began telling him off for not calling her, immediately launching into a manic tirade.

  “Lief O.D.’ed. He’s dead,” as soon as Chris said the words she immediately shifted gears to a quiet calm.

  “Oh,” he could tell she was about to cry uncontrollably. “He’s dead? Oh my god. Oh my god. I can’t believe it.” She hung up, not even letting him explain the situation. He didn’t mind, Chris was glad to get off of the phone. He would have plenty of time to talk to her when he got back to Lexington. He just needed a few hours sleep before the two hour drive.

  20

  The Threshold

  The day after Lief died Hank decided that he and Amy had enough money and marijuana that they could leave. Hank didn’t care to stay another few weeks to finish growing his last few plants and Amy supported him in that fully. He could take a loss, pull them prematurely. The buds wouldn’t be sellable as they were but he planed to use them to produce a batch of hash oil, which he would still sell in the end, so it wasn’t a total loss. The idea of just packing up and leaving everything behind made them both anxious. Hank and Amy had both been totally unaware that Lief was a heroin user. No wonder he had been so tolerant of Hank’s drug abuse. They didn’t want any more surprises.

  Chris left not much after the sun was up. He had a cup of coffee with

  Hank but wanted to be sober for the drive and so didn’t smoke a morning bowl or joint with him. It was a sober departure after a long, deep hug. They had thought they said their final goodbyes the day before but then Lief had died and it sent everything into chaos again. The only conversation they had that morning was about chaos and being constantly thrown into the midst of it.

  Hank stood on the porch as his friend drove away. He watched him all the way down the driveway and down the road until Chris was out of sight. Hank went inside to get Amy up. It was time to pack the last of their things, cut the last of the plants down, break down the grow room and finally to give the key to the landlord.

  They could both see freedom ahead, could taste the crossing of the finish line that was their race against Gravel Switch. It was something they had been dreaming about, talking about, putting all their energy towards. As they got the last of their things together and into boxes Hank realized that it was going to take him all night to break down his grow equipment. He had a hundred plants, all about two feet tall, and all the hydroponic equipment to deal with; as well as his nutrients and lighting, his reservoir and all of his pH balancing solutions. Amy encouraged him not to just abandon it all as it could be evidence that could be used against them. She was very uncomfortable leaving the grow equipment, even if they did take the plants. Anything they left could come back and bite them later, especially if something went wrong with their move to the west coast. The logic was hard for Hank to argue with.

  Knowing they would be spending another night in the house Hank took his time breaking everything down. It was his intention to set up another grow room wherever they went and both California and Washington had legalized cannabis for medicinal use. With his epilepsy he was certain to get a medical marijuana recommendation from any doctor he saw. Amy went to bed before he was even done cutting all the plants down. He decided to dry them at least overnight and strung some string from wall to wall and hung the freshly cut, premature plants. He was just finishing when he heard the distinct sound of a shotgun blast ringing
through his house followed by the sound of Amy’s voice screaming.

  “Hank! Help! Hank!” she sounded absolutely frantic.

  Hank ran to the steps and slipped on the way down, falling down half of the stairs on his butt, hitting the ground feet first and running into the bedroom where Amy had been. He saw the big man with the black ski mask and the shotgun again. Amy was in front of him on her knees with her hands behind her head. Hank panicked. He realized the man with the gun was between him and his own weapon. Amy’s was with Hank’s, on the far side of the bedroom, on the other side of the bed it may as well have been a mile away.

  Hank stood in the doorway to his bedroom, gasping for air, looking at his wife as she cried. A hand came to rest on Hank’s shoulder from behind. He jumped with fear and spun around to see Alan standing there. Alan shoved a pistol right into Hank’s stomach, making him double over. The local man motioned for Hank to go into his room. Alan put Hank on his knees next to Amy and held the barrel of the thirty eight to his forehead.

  Hank closed his eyes and waited for what seemed like eternity but no shot came. Alan had lifted the gun and holstered it. He grabbed Hank under the arm and jerked him to his feet so hard that Hank knew he would have a bruised armpit. Alan motioned for Amy to get to her feet as well.

  The man with the shotgun marched them through the house, out the front door onto the porch. Alan followed close behind and closed the front door behind him. When they got to the porch the couple were amazed to see that dozens of people had gathered in their front yard. There was a large bonfire lit and everyone there was garbed in a black robe with a hood that covered them from head to toe. A few of the robed figures closest to the porch had a thick white stripe down their robes that ran the length of the front and over the hood, making them look much like skunks.