Witch Hunter: Into the Outside

by J. Z. Foster

  “Ted. Ted, don’t.” Richard’s voice quivered. A braver man might have grabbed Ted, but Richard felt unable to move, incapable of doing anything but sit, watch, and beg as the fingers of fear gripped him. “Don’t touch the candle.” Ted reached out, slowly and unsurely cupping a hand around it.

  Ted put his fingers into the flame, letting it burn him. The ghost watched him as he pinched the wick, unflinching. Her eyes then slowly shifted toward Richard in anticipation, in wanting. Richard saw something behind her eyes; gone was the confusion or pain, replaced with something that craved and desired, something that hungered. He curled in on himself, watching his fate unfold in front of him, unable to stop it.

  He swallowed, took a deep breath, and tried to curse. “Oh geez,” was the best he could muster.

  “Pick that fucking camera up!” Beth stomped a foot. Her outburst ripped Richard from his fear-stricken paralysis. He suddenly became aware of himself again, of the flask of holy water in his pocket. He stood up and hurled the holy water at the ghost again, but the ghost shifted. The water splattered against the dusty stairs behind her as the candle went out between Ted’s fingers.

  The ghost glided past Ted and toward Beth. Without thought, Richard pulled the crucifix from the door, holding it high between Beth and the ghost. He tried to hurl the holy water at it, but again it shifted out of the way. It turned from them and shot to Ted, moving not past but through him. The crucifix clattered to the floor; Richard was unaware that he had lost his grip on it until he heard the crash.

  Richard watched as the ghost’s hand pierced through Ted’s chest, gripping onto something inside him, and pulled deeper in. Ted shuddered and convulsed before falling to his knees. With a moan, the woman sunk her face into Ted’s. The cameraman’s eyes rolled back into his skull and his teeth chittered. His gasp was loud and low, sending a haunting cry through the house.

  Run. Run!

  No longer paralyzed, every instinct filled Richard with fear and adrenaline and roared to take flight. Fear told him to run to the van, and leave Beth and Ted to their own fates. But something stronger than that weakness took control, something against his instincts.

  I can’t leave her.

  Another sense whispered to him, an idea, a last-ditch effort. Richard pulled open his jacket and stripped his sanctified necklace from his neck, wrapped the braided leather around his hand, and pressed the metal cross into his own palm.

  Beth gasped as Ted fell, but she was more stunned than afraid. “What’s happening?”

  Ted rolled around in quick, painful jerks, hooting and gasping for breath as he did. His back contorted into a wide horseshoe shape and his arms cracked down by some invisible vice-grip.

  With the necklace now wrapped tightly around his palm, Richard reached over and grabbed Beth’s hand, the same one that had sent his heart fluttering hours ago. She shrieked the moment the necklace touched her skin. “Oh my God!” The chains of the spell now broken, she stared down at Ted with horror on her face.

  With no more time to waste, Richard pulled her toward the door. “Let’s go!” With his free hand, he tried the doorknob.

  Ted came to his feet with startling speed and shot over to the door. He slammed against it, cracking the wood and making Richard stumble back.

  “Richard? I want to talk with you.” He spoke between grinding teeth, his veins popping from his neck. Richard looked down to see Ted’s arm shake with frustration, as if he was only barely holding himself back. “You can’t leave. No one leaves.”

  Richard still hadn’t found his footing, and he stumbled back. Beth’s tight grip kept him on his feet.

  “Ted…” It was all Richard could say. He had no other words. Men like Ted had bullied him his entire life. He could only stare at Ted and slowly inch away.

  Beth had regained her composure. “Ted, we need to go now. It’s time for us to go,” she said, slowly and deliberately.

  “No.” Ted wouldn’t look Richard in the eyes; he only stared at the floor. “Everyone is always jerking me around. No one ever takes me seriously.” His hand slid beneath his coat and to his holster, freeing the pistol. “Everyone treats me like shit.” He grinned as he lifted his head, and the pistol followed.

  “Ready for your final shot, Beth?”

  Without thinking, Richard kicked forward with all his weight, landing a solid blow to Ted’s midsection and sending him tumbling over.

  Oh, God. I hope that was a good idea.

  Richard spun on his heels and yanked Beth’s hand, dragging her with him. Unable to leave, they instead went deeper into the house. Their feet beat loudly against the loose wooden floorboards as they stormed up the stairs. Richard spared only a moment to glance back and see Ted lazily pulling himself to his feet. Beth kept a close pace behind, moving more smoothly than Richard.

  They entered the hallway at the top of the stairs; it stretched out in two directions, neither of which was inviting. Beth took charge and pulled Richard down one of the dark hallways, guided only by what little moonlight shone through the cracked windows. She then pushed into one of the aged doors. The door was stuck, forcing her to throw her shoulder into it. They slammed the door closed behind them, the rusted bolt of the metal lock groaning as she slid it into place.

  “What can we do now?” Beth’s voice was afraid but steady.

  “Ow, ow!” Richard whimpered and tapped his foot.

  “What?”

  Beth’s hand was grinding the bones in Richard’s hand against one another. “You’re squeezing my hand.” Richard said through gritted teeth; he never did have strong hands.

  “Oh. Okay.” Beth eased up on her grip, her face calming.

  “Don’t let go, though!” Richard said, grabbing her at the elbow. She nodded, her face determined. He could see she was brave and in control.

  Stronger than me…

  A loud thump silenced Richard. Beth leaned in, her warm breath spreading across Richard’s ear. More thumps followed.

  “He’s coming up the stairs.”

  Richard’s gut twisted again, turning inside out. His body shivered—he needed Beth. Needed her strength. He had none of his own, only impulses or flashes of self-preservation.

  Ted’s voice came from the hallway. “Beth, Richard.” It was hard to hear from behind the door, and his words seemed slurred, like a drunkard’s. “Where are you guys? Come on, guys you don’t have to be afraid of me. We’re friends, remember?”

  “Can’t you do anything?” Beth pleaded to Richard, her hand tensing on his again. “You’re an expert, right? Is he possessed?”

  Yeah, I’m supposed to be the expert. She needs me. Think!

  He swallowed his fear, and whispered, “Yeah, he’s possessed.” Richard’s mind ticked away for a few quiet seconds, until the gears began to turn and pistons came to life.

  “My book!” He whispered back as loud as he dared, “I don’t... It must be downstairs. I left it by the door.” A sudden numbness overcame him; he felt as if he might pass out, and his knees started to shake. He squeezed his eyes shut before he could speak again, getting a grip on himself. “We can just…” He found no more words.

  Beth pressed closer to him; her lips came to his ear again. Her heat gave him goose bumps. “Can we go out this window? Jump to the ground and get to the van?” She pulled away with a realization. “Ted has the keys.”

  A loud knock at the door made Richard jump. He stumbled back from it, and locked his hand on Beth’s as tightly as he could. His heart thumped in his chest, loud enough that he was sure Ted could hear, one heavy beat after the next as the doorknob slowly turned. The door pushed inward but caught on the bolt—the rusted metal was all that shielded Richard from Ted simply walking in. “Beth? Richard?” Ted’s voice was sweet, calm. “Let me in? Please?” The door rattled calmly against its frame.

  A moment of silence passed, but Richard couldn’t calm his own breathing. He loudly sucked in breath.

  “Open it!” Ted banged against the door. “O
pen it! Open it! OPEN IT!” He shouted over and over again, yanking the door and banging it against the frame.

  Silence returned. Ice water poured through Richard’s veins, freezing him stiff. He felt a tug on his hand; Beth reached over to grab a curtain rod off the dusty floor. It was a flimsy thing that Richard was sure would make a poor weapon, but he didn’t have a better idea.

  We’re going to die.

  Bam! A blast from the pistol burst a hole through the door. “Dammit!” Ted screamed and roared like a beast in anger. “What did you make me do? I got wood in my eyes, you pieces of shit!”

  Fear gripped Richard as he saw visions of his coming death; his jaw hung loose and tears streamed down his cheeks. Beth’s curtain rod fell to the floor. “Richard, help me!” She pulled him toward the window and put the palm of one hand at the top of the window frame. Richard followed her lead mindlessly and pressed his hands onto the window and waited.

  “We can’t wait here, he’ll be in soon!” Beth said while pushing as hard as she could against the window, trying to slide it up.

  The window was tight; it had likely been locked in place for years or decades. It groaned but refused to move. A light rain began to drizzle and pattered the window as they strained against the glass. Another day and another place, Richard might have found the rain soothing.

  But today wasn’t that day. Richard watched as Beth shot a look of panic back at the door. He had seen that miserable look before. He remembered it in his dog’s eyes when they found it on the side of the road after it had been hit. A look that said death was soon to come. He was powerless then as his best friend died in front of him. He was just a boy then, frozen in fear.

  He wasn’t a boy anymore.

  He pushed the fear away and found strength and purpose through Beth’s need of him. He clenched his jaw and shoved up as hard as he could, letting adrenaline give him strength. With a loud crack and a groan, the window finally gave way, pulling a string of dried paint that had been sealed within the crack behind it.

  “Let’s go!” Beth went first, sliding her thin legs through the old windowsill and ducking her head as she stepped onto the overhang. Richard planted one hand against the cracked frame and followed hastily behind. The overhang creaked as it threatened to collapse beneath their weight.

  Richard felt as if Beth’s thin, soft hand could slip from his at any moment, leaving him no choice but to trail quickly behind her. The shingled overhang became slick as the rain grew heavier. Richard stepped with careful feet, as quickly as he could, for fear of slipping, but Ted bashing against the door behind him prompted him to move ever faster.

  Beth moved to the edge to see the ground beneath. She turned to him, preparing to say something, but never got the chance. The roof finally collapsed to the soft wet grass with a loud wooden crack. Richard’s elbow slammed a rock. A shot of pain surged from his elbow to his fingers, forcing him to cry out. Several painful seconds ticked by as he gripped his elbow before he realized he had lost his hold on Beth. He struggled to his feet in the slop as the rain peppered his face.

  Richard took two steps forward, sloshing through a small puddle before he spun around and began searching for Beth. He caught sight of her, his red hat gripped tightly in her hand. He had to rub the rain from his eyes to be sure, but she was sitting, playfully, in a rain puddle.

  “Richard Fitcher.” She spat his name out and twirled the hat on one finger, her tone much darker than before when she was enthralled, her warped voice now drawing nails across his ears. There was something behind her eyes, something that wasn’t Beth. She stretched her neck at him, twisting it inhumanely. “He’s going to find you, Richard.” She gave a sweet chuckle with the promise. “You better run fast, little witch. Faster than those fat legs have ever carried you.”

  Terror clutched his chest and squeezed the blood from it. He wanted to scream, to run, to do anything except move forward—anything except be here right now. Instead, he reached down and snatched Beth by the hand as quickly as he could for fear that she might bite him or, worse, keep talking.

  She gasped when he connected and the fog lifted once more. “Richard?”

  “Let’s run, he’s coming!” The words spurted out as he grabbed her wrist and pulled her to her feet. Her jeans were caked with dirt and soaked from the rain.

  “What about Ted? We can’t leave him,” she said, despite her fear. It was surprising how quickly she could pull herself together.

  Richard found courage in that—in her—once more. Terrified and fighting for her life, she refused to leave Ted. Something about her gave him strength; she helped him overcome his own fear.

  I can help him. I know how. I know how. I know how.

  He told himself over and over again as if that made it true. The gears began to turn in his mind, the trials of the witch he’d gone through before exorcism. He knew how, but he needed something.

  My crucifix. My book.

  “We’ll need to get my book. Ted’s probably on his way out now, but he can’t come out the front door. I dropped my crucifix there and he can’t cross it while possessed. That should stop him, I think. I hope.”

  Oh God, I hope that’s true.

  Beth brushed a strand of wet hair away from her eyes and nodded, and together they dashed toward the front of the house. They could hear Ted curse and fire off another round. The blast made Richard stop dead, but Beth pulled him forward—her steps became his. They crept slowly through the wet grass and up the groaning porch to the front door. Richard had been content to let Beth lead the way, but now he stepped forward. He let out a choked breath as he reached for the doorknob and slowly turned it. It croaked open, and Richard could still see two of his flickering candles. He peeked in through the crack of the doorway, between the peeling paint and wood. He slowly pulled the door open and reached for the book.

  “Richard!” Beth tugged him back, pulling him away just as a shot blasted into the floor near him, sending chips of wood into the air.

  Richard slipped back, but still on his feet, lurched forward again and grabbed the book from the ground, yanking Beth with him. Another blast went wide from the top of the stairs, slamming into the porch near Richard. Richard jolted up and turned to run with Beth. His legs felt uneasy, about to collapse with each step, but he managed to stay up.

  Mud from the dirt and gravel road slung up and splattered both Richard and Beth as they slopped their way through it. Richard saw the trees there, still holding their inviting gesture, still calling for him to go deeper into the woods, farther into the dark. They had no other choice.

  Chapter 4

  “Well hot damn, son,” Minges said through a yellow-toothed smirk. He leaned back in his metal chair, looking like he’d be more comfortable with his feet up on the table. “That story sure as shit makes you sound like a lunatic.” He pulled his hat from his balding head and fanned himself with it. “Lay it on a bit thicker. Let’s hear about that cult back home a little more. Problem is that them sumbitches had you all confused and murderous, right?” After a wink, his entire face shook as he chuckled.

  “What? No! I was never in a cult. We mostly played Dungeons and Dragons. My sensei... eh, my Dungeon Master also taught us about real-life occult magicks.”

  “Mmhmm, mmhmm.” The lawyer bobbed his head. “How to be summoning all them demons and talking to ghosts, yeah? Them dungeon masters, they kinda like a BDSM thing, that right? I think I can work a tortured soul angle on that. Your pappy never touched you funny, did he?” He strummed his thick whiskers as he played with the thought.

  “No, nothing like that! Our sensei just told us how to find them, how to use the texts to fight them, how to defend ourselves. God, I never believed any of it.”

  “Sounds to me like you wasn’t doing too well though, am I right? From what you told me, you and that girl were just running to the woods with that other fella chasing you. What happened to that old boy anyways?” Planting a heavy arm against the table, Minges leaned forward. Richard f
inally looked up to stare into the lawyer’s strange blue-gray eyes.

  “It wasn’t like that. We didn’t know what to do. I didn’t really believe this, any of this. I thought it was a game we were all playing, that we were all just fooling each other. But it’s all real…” Somehow he couldn’t break his gaze from Minges’s. “Ted is a big guy, scary even when he isn’t waving a pistol around. And he had the car keys. What were we going to do?”

  “So this is the part where you get the axe, right?” He cleared his throat and considered. “No wait, I saw the video. You were by some gas station, yeah? How’d you finish the old boy then? We gonna find another body out there somewhere?”

  Did I kill Ted too? Is he still out there? No. No! I didn’t kill anyone. It was the witch!

  Richard clenched his teeth and shoved the thoughts back before he could speak again. “Well, like I said, we couldn’t get in the car. Ted had the keys. We couldn’t just leave him there. Who knows what would happen after that? We just needed to get some space so we could think.”

  “It’s fried.” Beth held her phone, which was refusing to turn on. “What the hell happened? It got too wet?”

  “Maybe. Mine won’t work either.” Richard dropped his phone back into his satchel. “But it might be this place. These perverse energies, they can mess with electronics.” His whisper barely carried a few feet.

  “Ted’s camera was working though…” Beth said.

  “I… I don’t know. God, I don’t know anything.” Richard rubbed his head, trying to think. “We need to get somewhere safe so that I can look at the book.”

  They had run off the dirt road and into the dark woods, leaving Ted in the house. How they had outpaced Ted, Richard had no idea.

  Thankfully, the rain had lightened from its moment of downpour, but it was still hard to move quickly through the untamed woods where roots twisted up from the ground and sharp branches pointed from eye level. Richard had heard plenty of stories of people breaking a leg by tripping on a root or rock at night—as if a ghost, a mad man, and the terror of the woods weren’t enough.