Witch Island

by David Bernstein

  Everyone sat in chairs around the campfire, except for Steve and Julie, who chose to sit on a log they’d rolled in, as there weren’t enough chairs to go around.

  The clearing was well lit, the flames creating ominous shadows that flickered in the distance, causing it to look like the tree line was alive with movement. Hot dogs were cooked over the fire using skewers, while hamburgers were set atop a foldout grate. Steve, Julie, and Melinda added onions to their burgers. Beer cans were popped open all throughout the dinner, and the garbage bag quickly filled to the halfway mark in no time with plates, napkins and beer cans. Talk among the group ranged from old times, to the future, and what might come. Everyone, including Jim, seemed to be having a good time.

  The more Gwen drank, the more she focused on Paul, which was funny because she didn’t want to even look at him. With every word he uttered, her anger seemed to grow, festering under her skin like some nasty insect. He was being his crude, obnoxious self, telling dirty jokes and laughing with the guys. He hadn’t once looked at Melinda.

  Melinda was huddled next to Darren, holding his arm, sipping the same beer she’d originally opened, and being quiet. Miss Innocent? Gwen thought not.

  Paul was a snake. He’d done some stupid things, but sleeping with his friend’s girl was just the stupidest. Gwen wanted him to pay for almost ruining their little group.

  Paul looked at her, as if hearing her thoughts, and she looked away. Of course, he hadn’t known what she was thinking. Gwen had probably just stared at him too long, getting his attention.

  She moved her focus to Melinda and shook her head. Melinda wasn’t completely innocent, but she was partly to blame. Paul had been the real scumbag, taking advantage of her fragile state and drunkenness. They’d both just have to live with it, though she figured it would be much easier for Paul to deal with than Melinda.

  “Ouch,” Julie said, swatting her neck. “Mosquitoes are biting tonight.”

  “Yeah,” Darren agreed. “Anyone bring bug spray?”

  “Really?” Steve asked. “I haven’t felt one bite.”

  “Me either,” Jim said.

  “Well, I have,” Shay said.

  “Yeah,” Gwen agreed. “These little buggers are bleeding me dry, and I already sprayed myself.”

  “It’s like we’re being attacked,” Darren said, upending another beer.

  “Considering they’ve probably been surviving on things smaller than Steve’s dick,” Paul said, “we’re like a welcomed feast.”

  “Fuck you,” Steve said.

  Gwen got out the bug spray, sprayed herself again, then passed it on down the line to Darren.

  The witch used her newfound strength to command the tiny, winged bloodsuckers. She felt the life go out of them each time one was swatted to its death, but most were able to bite and leave without their presence being known. With their bellies full, translucent abdomens aglow with the red liquid, they flew across the clearing, wings working feverishly to carry their extra weight. When they finally landed on the ground above her grave, they burst, the blood of the island’s visitors cascading to the earth. The witch sucked the life blood into the hardened soil, pulling every molecule of red into her bones, and little by little, her power grew.

  Shay was already buzzing nicely. She usually became horny when she drank. Alcohol and sex went so well together. But she wasn’t feeling it tonight. The thought of doing it in the woods, with no tent, bugs lurking everywhere, not to mention the thought of mosquitoes sinking their needles into her exposed crotch, ass and tits wasn’t exactly a comforting image. Then she thought about the larger things, like snakes and spiders, and shivered. No way was she doing anything. Okay, maybe she’d blow Paul, but that was it. She laughed, thinking about much he’d want it, then how Paul would spend the rest of the week scratching his balls and ass from the mosquito bites he’d get. Shay liked to take her time when giving head, which would give the insects plenty of time to get a meal in.

  Something red flashed to Shay’s right. She glanced across the clearing to where the pole was sticking out of the ground. For a brief second, the ground appeared to be glowing, then faded to its usual color. “Did you guys see that?”

  “See what?” Paul asked.

  “I didn’t see anything,” Gwen said.

  “A soft red bloom of light,” Shay said.

  “I think you better slow down, babe,” Paul said.

  Shay got up from her chair and headed over to the pole, taking one of the flashlights with her. She could’ve sworn she had seen a red glow come from the ground. Getting on her hands and knees, she inspected the area around the pole, then saw something. She brushed away a thin layer of dirt with her fingers. The object was oval shaped and solid. Interest piqued, she began clearing away more dirt.

  Steve was flying high, the combination of his wake-up call, Julie and the alcohol flowing through him was almost too much. He felt like jumping up from his seat on the log and doing a happy dance. He didn’t want this feeling or night to end. In one day, everything had gone from total shit to totally awesome. And his not going away to college might truly be a blessing in disguise. Sure, he was looking way into the future, for he had only known Julie for a short while, met her only once before tonight, but he couldn’t help himself.

  Julie was a junior and still had a year to go in high school. He had no idea what her plans were going to be when she graduated, but it didn’t matter. If things worked out between them—and why wouldn’t they—he could go on seeing her all through next year, and depending how things went, maybe longer. He’d have to talk to her about that, but at a later time, of course. He needed to calm down, relax, play it cool a little, or he might freak her out.

  Julie didn’t know if it was the beer or Steve’s single status, but he seemed much more comfortable around her than the first time they’d met. As soon as they rolled the log up to the fire, he’d put his arm around her. And they’d been talking nonstop, with absolutely no awkward silence between them, as each one constantly had something to say next. It helped that there were others around, often joining in on their conversation, or themselves offering input on the current topic of the group.

  Julie had felt a strong connection with Steve the last time they met, which was also the first time. But he’d had a girlfriend. Supposedly she was a real bitch, and no one in the group liked her, but they put up with her because she was with Steve.

  A week after Shay’s party, after meeting Steve, Julie remembered constantly thinking about him, hoping that Steve’s relationship wouldn’t last and she could swoop in. She couldn’t know for sure, but she felt certain he had felt something too, that he had really, really liked her.

  Julie went on with her life, dated other guys, but for some reason she couldn’t stop thinking about Steve. She compared everyone she went out with to him, and she’d only met him for a day. It had to be true love, for why else had she been feeling that way?

  If she’d gone to the same school as Steve, her time there would’ve been awful. She would’ve had to see him with his girlfriend every day of the week. But she lived a few towns away, which was a good and bad thing.

  Gwen had told her that Steve would be staying around, working. She’d have a whole year with him. Amazing. She’d been waiting so long for this, hoping it might happen, but never fully believed it.

  “Hey,” Steve said. “I got to pee, be right back.”

  “Okay,” Julie said, then added, “Watch out for snakes.”

  “Don’t worry, Julie,” Paul said, having overheard them. “I was only kidding about Steve having a small dick. His snake will scare away most others.”

  “Um, okay,” she said.

  “Ignore him, Julie,” Steve said as he walked away. “He’s just jealous.”

  Paul stood. “Jealous? I’ll show you jealous.” He grabbed his fly, unzipped it and stuck his hand in his pants, apparently ready to whip out the goods. Darren shot out an arm and shoved Paul, who stumbled into his chair and flipped o
ver backwards.

  “You ain’t whipping out that thing in front of me, or my girl,” Darren said. “No sir.”

  Laughter broke out amongst everyone, including Paul, who rolled around, pounding the ground with his fist.

  Julie laughed too, took a sip from her beer, then looked to her right and saw Shay digging in the dirt. “What’s Shay doing over there?”

  “Digging for lost pirate treasure,” Gwen said, laughing.

  “No,” Darren said. “I think she’s looking for Paul’s balls.”

  “Oh,” Paul shouted, after uprighting his chair. “You want to see balls?” With his zipper still down, he reached into his pants again. Darren rose from his chair and chased Paul. Both men fell and laughed as they rolled around, before returning to their seats, breathing hard.

  “I need another brewsky,” Paul said, and headed over to the cooler.

  “Guys,” Shay said. “There’s something here.”

  “Shay, stop playing in the dirt,” Paul said. “You’ll have plenty of time to do that in college. Get over here and be with your man.”

  Shay continued what she was doing. Paul grabbed a few beers, handed one to Jim and one to Gwen, then went back to his chair. “Suit yourself, woman.”

  Intrigued, Julie stood, and walked over to Shay.

  “Maybe she found a body,” Melinda said, finally joining in on the conversation after having been so quiet.

  “Yeah,” Paul said, “the witch’s bones, oooh, or maybe one of her victims.”

  “You know, babe,” Shay said, “sometimes, you’re an idiot.”

  “Hey, I’m getting shitfaced, I’m allowed.”

  Julie stood before Shay. “What did you find?”

  “Not sure yet, but it looks old.”

  Shay managed to clear away the earth from around the object, revealing what she guessed was the head of a railroad spike, but it wasn’t rusted or dirty. It practically glowed with newness as if it had just been made. She curled her fingers around it, then jerked her hand away. It was hot. She touched it again with her finger, feeling its temperature, and realized it wasn’t scalding, just very warm. Even in the summer, something like this, made of iron or steel, should be more on the cooler side. She gripped it again and tried pulling it free, but it wouldn’t budge. She asked Julie to find her a stick or something that she could use to dig with.

  Julie returned in minutes with the machete.

  “You girls better not dull the blade,” Darren said.

  “We’re not,” Shay answered, chipping the hard earth and shoveling it from around the spike. Now that it was more unearthed, she grabbed the spike again, having a much better grip, and pulled. She strained, wanting the thing out, thinking maybe it was nailed into something else. She pulled harder, about to give up, when it slid free. Shay cried out as she flew back.

  Laughter erupted from behind her.

  “Are you okay?” Julie asked.

  Shay sat there for a moment, deciding, then laughed at herself. “Yeah, that was some funny shit.”

  Julie held out her arms and helped Shay up.

  Still laughing, she dusted herself off, then picked up the spike she had dropped. It was no longer heated, feeling cool to the touch. She studied it under Julie’s flashlight beam and saw that not a single piece of dirt was stuck to the thing. It had unfamiliar markings carved into the sides. One symbol looked like a pitchfork. Shay could only guess it was some kind of archaic language.

  Shay snatched the flashlight out of Julie’s hand, and started scanning the ground with it.

  “Um, okay…” Julie said.

  “Sorry, I’m just really excited about this and want to see if there are any more. This has got to be a relic, something ceremonial and a great find. If I bring this to college and show my professor…I mean who knows, right?”

  “Sure,” Julie said.

  “Look,” Shay said, shining the light on another oval spike head. “Another one.” Shay handed Julie the flashlight and told her to shine it on the spike while she cleared the dirt around it, making it more visible.

  Julie called Steve over to help, and soon all three had found a number of spike heads and had cleared away the dirt around them.

  “Okay,” Shay said. “Looks like we found them all, unless there are more throughout this clearing, so let’s stick to this area for now.” She wondered if she should stop what she was doing and call some university, have professionals come in and do a proper dig, with her assisting of course. Screw that, this is my find, Shay thought.

  “Should we start digging them out?” Julie asked, clearly excited by the find.

  “Yes, but go slowly, we don’t want to damage anything. These things might be priceless.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  The witch spun with anticipation as one of the spikes from the devil’s barricade was pulled from the ground. A portion of the tremendous weight that held her down, kept her powers in check, had been lifted. The other wards were still in place, but the trespassers were above her. She’d felt them when they arrived, like flies to the spider’s web. Two were protected, and members of the ones who had killed her. She had resisted attacking the others, knowing that such a large group could prove a problem for her, even hurt her. She only had the strength to fight one, maybe two individuals.

  Using the mosquitoes to bring her sustenance, what little it was, had taken some of her power, but the blood delivered was worth it.

  Another spike was removed, and the witch danced with glee. Yes, she thought. Yes. The time has come for my freedom.

  It had been so long that she had almost forgotten who she was and what had happened to her, but the fresh blood and the feel of those that wronged her made her remember.

  The year was 1904. It was evening, the sun having dipped below the horizon a few hours ago. Margaret Rivers was sitting at the kitchen table when a knock came at the door.

  “Hello, is anyone home?” a male voice asked. “Please, we need help out here.”

  Since moving to town, no one but Father O’Brady had ever paid the Rivers a visit during the day, let alone at night, which made this moment a most unsettling one for Margaret, whose husband was ill in bed. Living on the outskirts of town, she feared bandits had found her home, seeing it as an easy target.

  Margaret rose from her chair and hurried to the fireplace where a double-barrel shotgun rested above the mantle. She grabbed the weapon, checked to make sure it was loaded, then faced the doorway to her house.

  The knocking became pounding, the door rattling thunderously in its frame. Whoever was on the other side was indeed desperate for something. She heard multiple voices too. Panicked, she swallowed the lump in her throat, and stood by the door, gun pointed at it.

  “Who’s there?” she asked.

  “It’s Constable Ryan. I’ve got Father O’Brady here and he’s very sick.”

  Margaret wondered what they wanted from her. She was no doctor, not the traditional kind anyway. Her ways were shunned by most and would never be considered, especially for a priest.

  “It’s late and my husband’s sick,” Margaret said. “Take him to Doctor Frederick.”

  “The doc’s gone. Had to leave town and won’t be back for another day or two.”

  If it was anyone else, she would have refused, but Constable Ryan was the law, and Margaret rather liked Father O’Brady, having met him earlier that day. He must have told the constable to bring him to her.

  When Margaret and her husband had arrived in town, the place seemed like a dream. The area was beautiful, the countryside exactly where she and her husband had wanted to live and raise a family. Previously, they’d been living in the slums of Manhattan, a dangerous and dirty place not fit for rats, though they seemed to thrive there.

  Initially, the people of Salisbury Mills had been kind, smiling and welcoming, but when the couple didn’t attend church services, especially on Sunday, that all changed. Rumors spread. People no longer spoke with them. Some turned their heads; others wa
tched them with narrowed eyes and scowls on their faces. Margaret grew somewhat worried, until Father O’Brady paid them a visit, giving her hope.

  “Good day, ma’am,” he had said. “My name’s Father O’Brady.” The man had a close-cut beard, was broad-shouldered and handsome.

  “Yes?” Margaret asked, looking past the man to see if he was alone. “What brings you out this way?” Margaret thought she knew the reason. Back in the city, she’d been visited by men of faith before, the reasons always the same—to get her to change her ways and see the light.

  “Is Mr. Rivers home?”

  Margaret wanted nothing more than to slam the door shut in the man’s face, but held her anger in check and grinned. She didn’t want to upset the townspeople any more than they already were.

  “No, Mr. Rivers is not able to come to the door at this time,” she said. “Is there something I can help you with?”

  The man’s brow furrowed. He looked concerned. “Your absence at the church has been noticed.”

  Margaret felt her face redden. She ground her teeth, holding the grin steady. “We’re not religious in your ways, Father.”

  “Ahh,” the man said, nodding. “In what way are you religious, if you don’t mind me asking such a personal question?”

  Margaret’s anger dissipated. She wasn’t getting a bad vibe from the priest. In fact, she was sensing honest interest in her situation. “You’re not like most priests, are you?”

  The man smiled warmly. “God loves all his children, whether they are on His direct path or not.” A moment of pause as the two stared at each other. “May I come in and talk with you?”

  She stared into his unblinking eyes, trying to find a reason to send him away, but came up with nothing. It was wiser to be nice to the priest. If anything, his word might carry some weight with the townsfolk. But more than that, it was because she was intrigued by him, sensing she might even come to like him.