Dead Village

by Gerry Tate

  But Tully didn’t believe in doctors or hospitals.

  He always reasoned that the sickness caused by your body would be cured by your body. And if your body couldn’t cure it alone, then nature was doing its worst on you. And you just cannot beat nature, Tully thought. After all, these so called doctors hadn’t been able to cure his father. Physically or mentally, he reasoned.

  Francis pulled the large heavy duvet over their heads and kissed Tully passionately.

  What’s gotten into you lately Fra?” Tully laughed.

  “Am I not allowed to be affectionate with the man I love then?”

  “C’mere, he whispered, and as they melted into each others arms, their passion filled the room.

  * * * * *

  Somewhere deep in the back of the wardrobe, the little ripped and tattered bear head lay. It had lain there for years now, untouched and unwanted. Never once taken out, or even thought about. Inside its dark prison it had listened to laughter and happiness. That is all Mr Cliff had ever wanted for Francis. All it had ever strove for. It had grown to love the little girl who played with it every day for many years when she was a child. It had saved her from her uncaring cruel mother, and then later from her violent husband. But now the little girl had changed. Mr Cliff just couldn’t accept the fact that the little girl had grown into womanhood, and that she just didn’t wish to play with him ever again. Mr Cliff missed the child so much, as he thought about their times together. Those unforgettable days when he and Francis played together had been the happiest days he had ever known.

  Now though, Mr Cliff was getting restless, and now Mr Cliff was getting angry.

  This is how Francis has repaid me, he thought. Never again to look affectionately upon me, or to laugh with me the way she used to. Never again to play with me. Discarded like some fucking worn out shoe that has seen better days.

  Mr Cliff knew that while Francis shared her life with someone else, then she would never have any time for showing or sharing it with anyone. Now though, Mr Cliff didn’t want her friendship or her love. Hatred for her and Tully had filled Mr Cliff’s mind, and now he was ready.

  The little bear’s eyes lit up slightly, and its mouth quivered.

  Mr Cliff had already safeguarded things when it entered the cleansing lights with Dan Winters as he journeyed back and forth through time. It had escaped the very breath of God.

  Now a paradox had been formed in time and space, and the little bear was in control of it. The demons in the forest, the lost ones, would take it from this place. Once in the forest it would help lead the destruction of these ungrateful, uncaring people.

  Now it would summon Stavizore, the most powerful of them all. And it would show Francis how loyalty and love should be rewarded. It would have its vengeance on her and on all of them. It would take great pleasure in having this man killed, this man who stole her away from him.

  Yes, Tully will be the first to pay, it thought.

  It knew though that once Stavizore was summoned there would be no going back. This act would be final and could only end in one conclusion. No one on this earth could possibly stop the mighty Stazivore. It paused for a moment, as if to reconsider its actions. Tears welled up in its small eyes, and a funny gurgling sound emulated from its throat, as some innermost memory was pleading with it not to take this course. Its mouth twisted and stretched.

  Too late, it thought, much too late. The eyes slowly turned a bright red, lighting up the inside of its small prison, and then it spoke.

  “Stavizore, the most powerful of the four. Stavizore the vengeful one, you must come,” it commanded, in a hate filled whisper. The little bear hissed loudly as the colour slowly left its cold eyes, and it lay silent and still once more.

  * * * * *

  Francis had a dream. In the dream she was aware that Mr Cliff had saved her life when her husband was surely going to kill her. The little bear had also killed her cruel mother. She awoke with the same headaches that Tully had complained about.

  “Are you all right Fra?” Tully asked.

  “I had the most frightening dream,” she answered. “In this dream, which by the way was so very, very real, my husband, who actually died from liver disease, was taken by a demon into the forest after he tried to hurt me. Something very frightening came from the trees with Mr Cliff in its hand. It was like it really happened to me.”

  “Who’s Mr Cliff?” Tully asked, puzzled.

  “I know this may sound crazy,” she said with a nervous laugh. “But Mr Cliff was, um, is,” she corrected, “my old teddy bear.”

  “Your teddy bear?”

  “Yes, and in this dream my mother who in reality died in her sleep, was actually drowned in her bath, by Mr Cliff,” she added and then paused. “Drowned, b-by my bloody little ten inch teddy bear,” she stuttered, as she quickly swallowed the pain killers.

  “Now though, only his head remains, she added,” as she pointed to the wardrobe.

  “You kept an old toy bear’s head?” Tully asked, puzzled.

  “Um, yes, I did.”

  Tully sat upright in the bed. He had dreamt these same sort of strange events himself. The demon had moved over the trees in his dreams. It had killed soldiers and policemen, and Tully knew that somehow it was more than just a dream he was having. And he hadn’t met Francis at the dance at all, he now knew.

  Dan Winters entered his mind again.

  “Does a man by the name of ‘Dan Winters mean anything to you?” Tully asked her.

  Francis thought for a moment before speaking. “Yes Tully, the name does mean something. He’s an American, right?”

  “Yes, he is, and he’s somehow connected with these bloody dreams we’re having.

  What in Gods name is happening to us? Tully thought.

  Francis as though reading his mind, spoke up.

  “We must find Dan Winters, Tully, because just maybe he has the answers to this nightmare.”

  * * * * *

  Two other men had had the same dream that night, Sergeant John Hutchinson and Officer James Watson.

  A powerful being from the forest had killed them both, along with some other colleagues, and James had jumped from his bed at the frightening reality of it all.

  He had charged to the bathroom clutching his bleeding arm, only to look in the mirror and discover that he was uninjured.

  His daughter came running from her bedroom and rushed into the bathroom after him.

  “Dad, are you all right?”

  James turned to motion that he was okay, but his face was covered in sweat, and he was fooling no-one.

  “Not another one of those bad dreams dad?”

  James slowly nodded, as he threw some cold water over his face and thoroughly checked his arm again.

  There was no wound, no pain, nothing. James knew what had happened to him and the others though.

  He slumped heavily against the wall, and slowly slid to the floor, sobbing, as his caring daughter wiped some cold water onto his sweating brow.

  “You are so good to me Jayne,” he whispered. “I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

  Jayne smiled. “No trouble dad. But you are going to have to pull yourself together, for our sakes.”

  It was a few minutes before he stood up, now back in control.

  “We must leave this place,” he muttered. We must leave immediately.

  * * * * *

  John Hutchison rapped on his friend Jimmy’s door. When the door slowly opened, Jimmy scanned around and almost pulled him in.

  “Do you know about it Jimmy? I mean the dream, the thoughts. Um, of what has happened to us.”

  “Yes John, I know. I know everything.”

  The two men stared hard at each other, and then they embraced.

  Three hours later Jimmy and his daughter, accompanied by John Hutchison and his family, drove speedily out of Cappawhite for the last time.

  It was something horrifying that these men just couldn’t forget. They could re
member their own deaths at the hands of the demon in the forest, and Jimmy was taking it a lot worse than his friend John. All they could do for now though, was to try and forget about it.

  God had somehow granted them another chance in life and they would have to make the best of it. It would be far away from the south of Ireland though. Inverness in Scotland, or maybe over to the far side of England, Newcastle perhaps. Maybe they would even go across to Europe.

  The other policemen and soldiers who had been killed that night, and had been somehow resurrected, had already left town.

  But there was one sure thing though. These men would never be the same again. And they would constantly be watching over their shoulder. John Hutchison knew that Jimmy was taking this much too badly though, and in his opinion, he felt Jimmy would never accept or get over it.

  CHAPTER 4

  Greta Casey looked up into the dark moonlit sky, and pushed on, deeper into the forest.

  She walked almost zombie like, as she tripped and stumbled against the trees and branches that stood in her path. Her forearm bled from an earlier fall, but she pushed on and ignored it.

  “Ben, Charles,” she called. “Where are you? Please come to me.”

  A small animal darted from the undergrowth and crashed into her legs, almost causing her to fall, but the startled animal sped off into the bushes before she could distinguish what it was. Whatever it was though, something must have frightened it badly, she reasoned.

  A feeling inside of her told her they where close by, and even though she couldn’t see them, Greta felt this to be true.

  Greta scanned ahead, fully focused on what she had to do.

  The rain was pouring down heavily, but Greta didn’t even notice it, as it ran down and across her face, and mixed with her tears, forming little streams that spread onto her coatless shoulders and down her arms, dripping off her elbows and hands.

  “Please,” she begged, “please don’t leave me again.”

  Even through the heavy rain and the darkness, Greta had seen something way out in front. Two figures had moved across her vision. It was them, she was sure of it. It was her husband and son, waiting for her. A feeling of euphoria filled her every being, and she moved very quickly on.

  “Come back, come back,” she yelled. “I’m here, I’m here.”

  Suddenly she went very quiet, and glanced around her, as though someone would see her, someone who would stop her from looking. That someone was Ken Tully, she feared.

  * * * * *

  She remembered back to just last week She had been searching the forest that night, when she saw a figure, and like tonight, she had yelled at it to come to her. But when the figure emerged from the darkness and shone his torch toward her, she found to her embarrassment that it was the gamekeeper, Tully.

  Greta had remembered that Tully had been very pleasant with her though, and he had walked her from the forest with his arm on her shoulder, talking to her all the while.

  But he had warned her of the dangers of the forest at night, with traps and such laid just about everywhere. To dissuade her from coming back, Tully had also lied to her that there were poisonous snakes in the forest, and he had made her promise him that she would not venture in there again at night.

  She pretended to agree with Tully, and promised she would do as he asked, but deep down she had resented his interference.

  After all, he wasn’t the one who had been left on his own in an empty house every night and day for all these many lonely years. And anyhow, it was a free bloody country, she felt.

  Ken Tully simply had no right to stop her from trying to find her family, even if he did mean well.

  She gripped the large knife handle tightly, and made herself a promise. If Tully tried to stop her again tonight, then she would stab him through his heart and have done with it.

  She would kill him without a second thought, because no one was going to keep her from her family. No one!

  She struggled through the dense hedgerows and wet clinging grass, ignoring the cuts on her legs, searching everywhere, but now the figures had disappeared.

  Her body tensed as she panicked, and she turned full circle as she scanned all around.

  “Damn you Ben, damn you Charles,” she sobbed, as she fell to her knees and clutched at her wet hair.

  High above her, in the swaying trees, the two hooded figures hovered, unmoving, watching down.

  The smaller of the two creatures slowly started to edge forward, out from the branches, when suddenly the other creature gripped its arm firmly, and pulled it back into the shadows. Greta stumbled on, but soon found herself at the end of the forest. She could see the shiny rain lashed road through the trees, and she cursed.

  * * * * *

  The rain was bouncing off the car windows now, as Garda Jeremiah Fagan drove down toward Iron-Mills-Bridge and Cappawhite. Visibility was low and he was driving very slowly on full beams as he focused hard on the road in front. Beside him the trees along the edge of the forest swayed in the ever increasing wind. It had been otherwise quiet though, because in this weather everyone had stayed indoors, and now he was coming to the end of his shift.

  Something, a petite figure of a woman perhaps, moved back into the trees on his left side, hiding from him, he felt. He was sure it had been a woman, although it seemed impossible that a woman would be out here in the forest on a stormy rain lashed night like this.

  He wanted to drive on into the village, warm himself inside the dry welcoming police station, and ignore what he thought he’d seen. Instead though, he pushed hard on the brakes and the slow moving vehicle stopped almost immediately with only a slight skid.

  He picked up his torch and shone the powerful beam through the side window as he slowly moved the spotlight along the trees, scanning every inch.

  Something stood out from the darkness. Something that was different from the brown and green foliage of the forest. Something pink in colour it was, and it was hunched down beside a large tree, barely visible in the driving rain.

  Officer Fagan didn’t want to leave the car. He had heard the different stories regarding the forest. Strange and frightening stories, of ghouls and demons that weaved their way across the forest at night, wailing their death songs.

  He hadn’t really believed these far fetched stories, but being alone out here on a night like this would have unnerved even the hardest of cynics. Maybe though, someone had been badly injured, he felt.

  Yes, this must be the answer, he felt. Someone had been walking at the side of the road, and had been hit by a vehicle in the blinding rain and darkness. This would be a clear cut case of a person becoming the victim of a hit and run driver.

  He shone the beam along the road beside the car, in search of the tell tales signs of an accident. He looked for pieces of a broken headlight or skid marks on the ground, but there was nothing.

  He shone the torch back into the trees, and the pink figure moved. Now he knew it was real, and now he had to do something about it.

  He placed his cap firmly on his head, torch in hand, and quickly exited the vehicle, but he kept the car engine running. He would not take any unnecessary chances.

  A heavy gust of wind almost blew the door off and he slammed it shut. Then the wind pulled at his hat, but he gripped it tightly and approached the crouching sobbing figure.

  When he shone the light into Greta’s face, she covered her eyes.

  “Mrs Casey?” Jeremiah whispered, as he stared at the rain soaked pathetic looking woman.

  “Good God, Mrs Casey, what the hell are you doing out here on a night like this?” Jeremiah almost shouted.

  “Give me your hand woman, and let’s get out of here.”

  Greta stared at him for a moment without speaking. She slid the knife out from her pocket and held it tightly behind her back, staring wild eyed at him like some demented caged animal.

  The rain poured down even harder now, and as he bent over, he could feel it cold and penetrating as it soaked o
nto his back, through his tunic. He was angry, and he felt like shouting at the woman, but he held his cool.

  “Please, give me your hand Greta,” Jeremiah pleaded. “Please.” He forced a smile.

  There was something about the young officer that somehow reminded her of her boys. Something sincere in his demeanour, sincere and loving. His smiling wet face had a kindness and a sort of understanding about it.

  No, she wouldn’t harm this good and kindly young man.

  She dropped the heavy knife into the deep grass behind her and held her cold hand out to him, resigned now to the fact that she was never going to see her loved ones again. Now she would never return here to this place, ever.

  How could I have been such a fool to even try and contact them? Greta thought. It was quite clear to her now. Her husband and son had rejected her, didn’t want her, and now there was nothing left for her to fight for.

  Greta hugged Officer Fagan tightly, and sobbed into his chest as she gripped his back, digging in with her claw like fingers. He felt the cold water from her rain lashed body soak into his chest through his clothing, but most of all he felt embarrassed at her disturbing behaviour. In fact, the young policeman had mixed emotions for this distraught woman.

  “C’mon now Mrs, Casey, let’s get us both out of this rain.”

  The officer’s hat blew off in a flurry and disappeared high into the trees, but he would not be going in there after it, not tonight!

  They rushed to the car like two lovers who couldn’t bear to be separated from each other as Greta clung tightly to him, and he pulled her along.

  She was still sobbing when Officer Fagan helped her into the rear seat of the car and forced her arms from him.

  He jumped into the warm welcoming interior and pulled some tissues from a side panel, and as he threw a handful into the back he rubbed at his cold wet face.

  Greta ignored the tissues and sobbed into her hands.

  Jeremiah stared in the mirror at her for a moment before speaking.