The People In The Woods

by Robert Brown

  Nick felt both guilty and annoyed. Yes, he had lied, and yes, he had let it go on too long and had endangered his family, but he had tried to protect them too. Cheryl’s being uncommunicative wasn’t helping him do that.

  The first thing he did was reload his gun after watching a YouTube video to make sure he did it right. Gus had already taught him that, but Nick didn’t want to mess it up. Then he called a security company that offered same-day installation and bought the company’s most expensive model.

  As the technician installed the alarm, Nick called the department. He made his voice sound gravelly as he told the secretary that he was sick and would probably be out for a couple of days.

  “I’m sure the students will appreciate the holiday,” the secretary said in her usual cheerful voice.

  Although it was meant as a joke, and one he had made a few times himself, the words stung Nick. No one would miss him at work. That was how his life had ended up. He was a useless appendage in the lives of a constantly changing crowd of students who would soon forget him.

  He feelings rallied as he called Clayton. Here, at least, he was doing some good.

  To his surprise, Trisha picked up.

  “How are things going?” Nick asked.

  “Clayton’s at work. He left me his phone because mine’s not working. I think the smoke messed it up or something.”

  “Do you need a new one? Clayton’s going to have to be in touch so we can plan our next move.”

  “Talk to Clayton about it. He already feels bad about borrowing money from you.”

  “Oh, come on. We have to stick together in this thing.”

  “There’s one thing you could do. Can you give me a lift to the supermarket? I need a couple of things.”

  “Sure. I’ll be over in about an hour.”

  Once the technician finished and gave Nick the instructions to the security system, Nick emailed Cheryl with the information so she wouldn’t set it off when she got home. Their conversation was clipped, businesslike. He didn’t try to make up to her over the phone. He’d leave that for when they were face to face. Then he headed over to the motel, taking his gun with him. He had decided to not go anywhere without it.

  The night before, Nick had been too stunned to notice what a grim place the motel was. It was on the business loop, a long stretch of road encircling half of the town and lined with cheap strip malls, big-box stores, a couple of shoddy apartment complexes, and even shoddier motels.

  The one where Nick had gotten a room for Clayton and Trisha had a neon sign from the Sixties that flickered badly. It also had a swimming pool filled with dirt and a few beer cans. The motel’s cheap concrete facade contained a row of identical rooms.

  Trisha answered the door, wearing nothing more than a long t-shirt that barely covered her waist. Her legs were slim and smooth, and her bare feet were attractive. Nick had never really been into feet before, but on Trisha they made a perfect end to an enticing package.

  He forced himself to look into her eyes, which he found were pretty as well. Inviting, too. She gave him a warm smile.

  “My hero has arrived.”

  Oh, God, he thought, feeling a tightness in his pants. I don’t need this right now.

  Actually, I do.

  Hey, just because you had an argument with Cheryl doesn’t mean you get to go after jailbait.

  Nick entered the room and closed the door behind him. Trisha locked it and smiled at him again. She stood a little too close.

  “So, what do you need at the supermarket?” His voice came out strangled and dry.

  “Some makeup and stuff. I want to look my best.”

  “You look great already.”

  Shut up, shut up, shut up.

  “Aw, you’re sweet.”

  They stood facing each other for a second. The moment stretched out.

  “When does Clayton get out of work?”

  Trisha shifted from one leg to the other, the light gleaming off her thighs. Nick found himself wondering whether she wore any underwear beneath that shirt. He could almost see, but not quite. Just half an inch more and he could. Perhaps he should sit down.

  “Not until five.”

  “Right. We’ll have a meeting after that. I’ll call the other guys. Let’s get you to the supermarket. I have a lot to do today.”

  Trisha tilted her head to one side, her hair cascading over her bare shoulder. The t-shirt was too big for her and hung over her shoulder.

  It’s probably Clayton’s t-shirt. Try focusing on that fact.

  “Oh, all right,” she said at last. “I don’t see what’s the hurry.”

  Trisha padded over to the bed and grabbed a wrinkled shirt and a pair of pants from the bag she had managed to save from the trailer. She grabbed a pair of panties too, but no bra. She brushed past him as she went to the bathroom.

  Nick let out a silent rush of air and sat on the edge of the bed. Trisha didn’t close the door to the bathroom all the way.

  “So, what’s all this stuff you have to do today?” Trisha asked, bending down and lifting one leg to put on the underwear.

  So, she hadn’t been wearing any.

  “I’m worried about my family,” he said, emphasizing the final word. “If they came after you, they’ll come after me. I’ll have to pick up my daughter from school today and also watch out for my wife. She’s a professor at the university too. I had a burglar alarm installed this morning. Bought the best they had. Put me back a couple of grand. I hope it’s worth it.”

  “It must be nice to afford nice things,” Trisha said, doing a little shimmy to get her tight jeans on. She was facing him now, aware she had an audience. “Does being a professor pay good?”

  “It pays OK. It helps that my wife works, too.”

  Trisha tilted her head again, looking at him with big blue eyes. The action made her look childish, almost innocent, but little about her was childish and nothing was innocent.

  “You talk about your wife a lot.”

  Nick wasn’t sure how to respond to that.

  Another long silence.

  “You need help with all the stuff you need to do today?” Trisha asked.

  “No, thanks. I don’t want to trouble you.”

  “Staying in this motel is lonely.”

  Again, Nick didn’t reply. He felt flushed and the ache in his pants was unbearable.

  “I think it would be better for you to stay put so Clayton knows where you are.”

  The expression he got in response was unreadable. Trisha turned, still exposed in the open strip of space left by the half-closed door, and took off her shirt. Nick admired her bare back, smooth and flawless. She took her time putting on her t-shirt.

  When he finally left with a fully clothed Trisha, he felt like he was being released from prison and kicked out of paradise at the same time.

  “You got your gun?” she asked as they got in the car.

  “Yeah, it’s hidden in that bag by your feet.”

  She smiled at him. “You sure showed them, banging away like some action hero.”

  Nick couldn’t help but smile back.

  “You were shooting, too. You sure know how to keep your head in a crisis.”

  She looked out the window as they pulled out of the parking lot.

  “Growing up in my family, I had to. All that screaming. Mom and Dad throwing stuff at each other.”

  “I’m glad you got out.”

  “Yeah, straight into a trailer in the middle of nowhere that gets burned down by Satanists.”

  “That’s not Clayton’s fault. He did his best to protect you.”

  “Oh, sure. I’m not blaming him,” she said in an absentminded way. “But I need to find a place where I’m safe, a decent place where someone will take care of me.”

  From the corner of his eye, Nick saw her staring at him. He kept his eyes on the road.

  So, this teenager really was trying to seduce him. Why? Just because he had a bit more money than Clayton did?
>
  OK, a lot more money, but it was a pretty nasty way to treat a guy who, as far as Nick could tell, had been nothing but good to her.

  His suspicions about her motives grew when all she bought at the supermarket was makeup and a bit of junk food. Nick reluctantly paid.

  He drove her directly back to the motel. It took all his willpower, and a fair amount of convincing, to get her out of the car.

  “Stay inside the room and keep your gun close,” Nick advised. “The less you’re seen outside, the less chance they’ll spot you.”

  “Sure you don’t want to stay a while?”

  “Positive. I mean, I have things to do. Bye.”

  He peeled out of the parking lot and got back on the business loop, letting out a groan of frustration and relief.

  “Damn, if only poor old Bennett could have seen that!”

  Nick spent much of the rest of the day in target practice, emptying magazine after magazine until his hands and wrists hurt. Slowly, his aim improved. When he finally quit for the day, he bought a flashlight attachment that he could mount on the bottom rail of the Glock. He didn’t want to get caught blind in the dark again. It came with a laser pointer that would hopefully keep him from missing every shot next time. Gus warned him that the battery life was two hours at most, so Nick bought a couple of spares. He also bought a can of pepper spray for Cheryl. He didn’t know whether she wanted it, but he would make sure she carried it anyway.

  While he was at the shooting range, he got a group message from the others. They had decided to meet at Matt’s store at seven that night. He texted back to say he’d be there.

  After he had finished at the range, it was time to pick up Elaine from school. She flounced to the car, her usual bubbly self. As they headed home, Nick decided to let her in on what was going on.

  “Honey, we have a bit of a situation.”

  “Is this what you and Mom were fighting about this morning?”

  Aw, crap. Looks like she wasn’t totally hypnotized by her smartphone after all.

  “Well, yes and no. I’ve had to install a burglar alarm. You know how I study religions? Well, I’ve been studying a cult that’s active here in the woods around town and—”

  “The one that made those Blair Witch stick things?”

  “Yes. Unfortunately, they’re taking the whole horror movie thing too seriously. They’ve been sacrificing dogs and cats and—”

  “Ew. And you know these people?”

  “No. No I don’t. Please don’t interrupt, honey. This is important. I’m helping some local guys track down these people. We can’t contact the police. It’s complicated, but we can’t. And these cultists turned on us. They burned down the home of one of my friends.”

  Nick paused, thinking she’d interrupt again. Instead, Elaine just stared at him, turning pale. He went on.

  “They don’t know where we live but we have to be careful. I’ve installed a burglar alarm and bought a gun. I also bought your mother some pepper spray. She probably won’t want to carry it, but you have to convince her. Until this is all cleared up, you can’t go out at night and you can’t go anywhere alone. You can go to school, because it has security, but that’s it. I know that will cramp your style, but this is about safety.”

  She nodded. “All right, Dad.”

  He squeezed her hand. They were just pulling onto their street.

  “Can I go to theater rehearsal tomorrow night?”

  “Um, sure. The school has security.”

  “OK. So why are they imitating a horror movie? That’s a pretty lame religion.”

  “I don’t know.”

  Nick recalled how the cultists had beaten on the sides of Clayton’s trailer. It was like how the ghost children had beaten on the side of the protagonists’ tent in the movie. The stick men weren’t the only things they were imitating.

  “So, how did you even know about this movie?” Nick asked. “It came out ages ago, before you were born.”

  “Oh, it was showing at the university theater last semester. We couldn’t get in because we were too young, so Tammy downloaded it off Torrent.”

  “You couldn’t get in legally to a movie so you downloaded it illegally?” Nick asked as he parked in the driveway. “We’re going to have to talk about your friend Tammy sometime.”

  They went inside to find Cheryl waiting. She didn’t look happy. Elaine took the hint and retreated to her room. Nick and Cheryl sat down in the kitchen.

  Nick put a hand on Cheryl’s knee. He felt her tense beneath his touch. “Look, before you say anything, I know I messed up. I’m trying to make it right. The important thing right now is to be safe. Here, I bought this for you.”

  He handed her the pepper spray. She gave him an angry look, studied the can for a moment, and then read the instructions.

  “Good, read them and memorize them,” Nick said, then let out a little laugh. “You know I’m always bad at reading the instructions. Remember how long it took me to hook up the router?”

  The joke fell flat.

  “I need to go out tonight. The guys are going to have a meeting about what to do next. We have a pretty good idea where they’ll have their next ritual, and we’re going to stop them.”

  Cheryl’s anger crumbled, replaced with tears. She embraced him.

  “I don’t want you to go,” she moaned. “These people are dangerous. What if you get hurt?”

  He rubbed her back. “I have to go. I have to protect you. Protect Elaine. Just stay put tonight. Keep the burglar alarm on and all the lights, inside and out. Keep that pepper spray on your belt. It has a little attachment for that. I probably won’t be back until late.”

  Cheryl pulled away a little and put a hand on his cheek.

  “Take care, Nick. Do what you have to do.”

  He nodded, too choked up to speak. There was a lot of love in her eyes, as well as something he hadn’t seen in a long, long time.

  Respect.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  The Republic Food, Antiques & Book Emporium didn’t look like it had been the site of the first battle in what was becoming an all-out war. The lights were on this time, so Nick got a good look at what Matt Guthrie was willing to defend with his life. The front room was a large convenience store, with glass-fronted refrigerators for drinks and a couple of aisles for snacks, souvenirs, books of crossword puzzles and Sudoku, and anything else people might want on a road trip. The side room was given over to antiques and books. The antiques were mostly pieces of old furniture, clocks, radios, piles of records in faded slipcases, and other items that Nick figured Matt had bought at estate sales. None of it appeared to be rare or collectible, and it all looked more than a little dusty.

  The group was meeting at a card table at the far end of the antiques room, in front of a long shelf of used books. Matt had set out some cheap beer and a couple of bowls of potato chips. Wayne, Carl, and Tobiah were already sitting down. As Nick took a seat, Brandon, Clayton, and Trisha came through the door.

  “Looks like the gang’s all here,” Clayton said, his arm around Trisha’s slim waist. “Let’s get this thing started. Nick, thanks for buying that stuff for Trisha. I kept that receipt and will add it to what I owe you.”

  “Glad to be of help,” Nick said, feeling himself flush and making sure not to look at the teenage girl. “And if you need anything else, just ask. No rush paying me back.”

  “Thanks, man,” Clayton said, sitting down and popping open a can of beer.

  Trisha sat next to Nick and pressed her leg against his. He moved his leg away, but she moved hers to touch him again. Nick tried to remain composed, feeling grateful that the card table hid what she was doing.

  To distract himself and the others, Nick showed Wayne the flashlight and laser sight he had bought.

  “I’ve upgraded your gun,” he told the lean assistant manager of the feed mill.

  “Smart move,” Wayne said, spitting some tobacco juice into an empty beer can.

  “I’
ll buy another for my own Glock when I get it. You can keep this one. Consider it a rental fee.”

  “Mighty kind of you. How’s your gunplay coming along?”

  “I practiced a bunch at Gus’s today. I’m improving a bit. Sad to say, I didn’t hit anyone in the firefight last night. If I had, maybe Clayton and Trisha would still have a home.”

  Trisha put a hand on his forearm. Nick tensed. “You tried your best,” she said.

  “Yeah, don’t worry about it, bud,” Clayton said. “If they hadn’t burned it last night, they would have burned it some other night. At least you helped scare them off.”

  Clayton turned to the others and recounted the events of the previous evening. Everyone listened with grim faces. Once Clayton was done, Matt shook his head.

  “Those sons of bitches. I’m surprised they didn’t try the same thing here.”

  “Probably too chickenshit to make a play within sight of the freeway,” Carl said as he reached for another handful of chips.

  “Yeah, probably,” Matt said. “The question is, what do we do now?”

  Everyone turned to Nick. He shifted in his seat, both uncomfortable and flattered to be the center of attention.

  “I think Carl is right. They hide in the woods. They seem to feel comfortable there. It must be one of the keys to their beliefs. Remember how at that ritual they were calling out to the spirits of the land to offer their sacrifice? And they were cursing Republic, Jackson County, and America. They were cursing civilization. And their art, it’s all sticks and twine. Nothing synthetic. They don’t want to be close to civilization. They hate it.”

  “They hate Christian civilization,” Tobiah corrected. “You sure they ain’t some wacko Muslims?”

  Nick shook his head. “Muslims don’t sacrifice animals except for animals they eat, and only on certain holidays. Plus, they weren’t calling out to Allah.”

  Tobiah frowned. “They were calling out to the Devil, and Muslims worship the Devil.”

  Nick opened his mouth, then bit down on his words. He didn’t have time to convince this Bible thumper right now.

  “They’re not Muslims. More likely, they’re some pagan cult. But here’s something strange I discovered. Has anyone seen the movie The Blair Witch Project?”