by Jasper Bark
A sharp, hot agony shot through Nat’s face as the hair forced the shard of sharpened glass down, slicing through the skin of his forehead. Then down his nose, through his top and bottom lip and finally over his chin and throat.
Blood streamed from the deep cut in the center of his face. Nat gasped with the shock of the wound and breathed in the blood through his nose and mouth, making him cough violently.
The other hairs were still tugging at his hair and beard. Nat felt the skin of his face begin to peel away from the bones and cartilage of his skull.
As the pain reached a new, burning intensity, more hairs forced themselves through the gap in his face. They wriggled under his skin, scraping it away from the bone as they snaked around his skull. The part of Nat’s mind that was still conscious refused to believe that this was happening to him. He couldn’t accept that his old friend had become something so monstrous, something capable of doing this to a man. But then, the kid always did have a way of getting right under Nat’s skin.
The hair wound its way under Nat’s scalp, and moved further down beneath the skin of his neck and over the inside of his shoulders. It scoured the muscle like a thousand white hot filaments.
More hairs bunched up under the skin of Nat’s face and tore it away from his skull, stretching it out as far as it would go. They burrowed into his eye sockets and wrapped themselves around his eyeballs.
With an insistent tug that sent a shaft of blinding hot pain through his brain, the hairs pulled the eyes from their sockets, but kept them behind the eyelids as they folded the torn skin of Nat’s face in on itself.
Nat’s mind had almost shut down with the torment. His eyeballs were still attached to their optic nerves. They were still sending images to his shrieking brain. It took them a little while to process what they were seeing. But then it dawned on him, as the severed skin and eyeball, from one side of his skull, came face to face with the other.
Charlie had called Nat two faced. He was right, and in the last few moments of his life, both of Nat’s faces got to take a good long look at each other.
CHAPTER 6
“How in hell does this thing move so fast?” James yelled as he cantered up to the graveyard next to Clem. He’d been roped into chasing the creature that used to be Charlie McKinnel and he’d seen what it had done to Nat Gunderson.
“Damned if I know,” said Clem. “Where’s the damned thing at? It was headed this way, couldn’t have gone anywhere else.”
“Why in hell do you have a graveyard anyway? You told me nobody dies here.”
“Less they’re shot or stabbed or some such.”
“And you bury ‘em here?”
“No, mainly we burn the corpses so they don’t turn out like the thing we’re chasing. But we can’t burn things like this. The flames just won’t take ‘em. So we have to bury ‘em. For some reason, this land next to the swamp has some kinda power over ‘em, keeps ‘em dead and buried. We burn the corpses right next to the graveyard for the same reason.”
James reigned in his horse at the rough stone entrance to the graveyard. The land next to the swamp was damp and oppressive. The whole place felt old and very, very dead. “So you’ve had this happen before then? I mean, you’ve shaved some poor fucker’s beard off and they’ve turned into one of these things?”
“Only when Big Bill really wanted to punish someone. And we’ve never had one get away before. They’re usually easy to handle, so long as we burn the swamp bark to knock ‘em out.”
“How many times have you done this?”
“You’ve seen the posters behind the bar.”
“Ones with the mustaches stuck to ‘em?”
“That’s right.”
Doc Hendry rode up behind them. “Has it got here yet?” he said.
“Can’t see it,” said Clem.
Doc Hendry dismounted, lit the kerosene lamp from his saddle and peered through the entrance. “You ain’t seen it cos you weren’t looking in the right place.”
“Waddaya mean?”
“Look, right here,” said the Doc raising his lamp. James and Clem dismounted and joined him at the entrance. Doc pointed to the center of the graveyard.
Between the graves they saw what looked like some kind of twisted plant. As they peered closer, they realized it was the strange hair creature. It had somehow bedded itself into the damp soil of the graveyard. It looked like a giant clump of twisted flesh covered all over in impossibly long strands of hair. Its hair was snaking between all the graves, as if it had a mind of its own.
“What in God’s name is it doing?” said James. “Is this normal?”
“Nothing about these things is normal,” said Clem. “But I ain’t never seen one do this before. Let’s light up a bunch of swamp bark and take a closer look.”
James watched Clem and Doc light their pieces of bark, then blow out the flames, so they were smoking. He wasn’t certain how the bark might knock one of these monsters out, but he followed suit. Each of them held the bark in front of them as they entered the graveyard. The ground was soft and mossy and filled with water that soaked into James’s boots.
The first thing James noticed was that there were eleven graves. “Hey,” he said. “There are only six posters behind the bar, but there are eleven graves here.”
“Think we were the first people to live here?” said Clem.
“There were others before you?”
Clem didn’t answer. But he did put his arm up to stop James from moving any further forward. Clem pointed at the ground. James looked down and saw the ends of lots of hair stroking the front of his boot. Clem removed his arm and James slowly moved his foot back.
“Got to be careful,” Clem said. “This thing is more dangerous than you can believe.”
“I already seen what it can do.”
“You ain’t seen shit yet, boy.”
Doc raised his lantern up. The thing was sinking further and further into the ground, burying itself in the soft, spongy earth. The body beneath all the hair started to ripple, like waves were passing through it. Then it started to go into convulsions and something shot out of it and flew at least fifteen feet up in the air.
James jumped back with shock and dropped his smoking bark. It landed next to the ends of some hair and they withdrew from the bark, pulling themselves rapidly backwards. So the bark does have an effect on these things after all, James thought.
James heard a wet thud behind them as he was picking his bark off the ground. He spun round and saw something burrow its way into one of the graves. The hair thing had another convulsion and something else shot from under its hair.
James took a step back onto one of the graves and craned his neck, trying to see what had shot out of the thing. Something warm hit him right in the forehead with a wet slap. He jumped and pulled the hot, slimy thing off his face.
It looked like a ruptured human liver, with all kinds of living hairs growing out of it. The liver wriggled in his fingers and he threw it at the ground in disgust. The organ crawled onto the grave at James’s feet and started to dig its way into the soil.
“The hell is that?” said Clem.
“It looks like a liver with hairs,” said James. “It’s digging its way into this grave.”
The liver had almost disappeared by the time Clem and Doc joined James at the grave to have a look. “I’ll be darned,” said Doc. They all turned to look back at the thing as it convulsed once again and shot something else into the air.
Doc followed the trajectory of the object and watched as it hit another grave. “What is it, Doc?” called Clem.
“Looks like a busted lung with hairs,” Doc shouted back. “It’s burying itself in this here grave.”
“What the hell is going on?” said James.
“Fucked if I know,” said Clem.
All three of them backed towards the entrance and watched as the hair thing shot eight more busted and hairy organs into the air. Each of the organs landed on one of the graves a
nd dug itself in. “Any idea what’s going on, Doc?” said Clem.
“Well, I ain’t certain, but my guess is that it’s sporing.”
“Sporing! What in hell does that mean?”
“It’s what fungi do when they want to reproduce. They shoot hundreds of spores up into the air, hoping they’ll land on a cow pat, or a rotting tree or whatever they grow on. I read a paper on it once, many years ago.”
“I ain’t ever read anything like that in the paper.”
“This was a scientific paper.”
“That thing’s trying to reproduce?” said James. “Ya mean it’s trying to have sex with the other corpses or something?”
“Well, I dunno about that, I was just hypothesizing.”
“Hypothe-what?”
“I was just throwing ideas out there. It kinda reminded me of the paper I read on fungus spores is all.”
James felt the ground shudder. They all turned to look at the thing, which was sinking into the sodden ground, dragging all its hair after it. Finally it sank from sight and there was no trace of it left.
Clem and Doc started to walk back into the graveyard, being very careful about where they trod. James followed them. When they got to the spot where the thing had bedded in, they found a mound of freshly moved earth and nothing else.
“Well that just saved us a whole heap of trouble,” said Clem. He looked straight at Doc and James with a mean set to his face. “Listen, as far as Big Bill’s concerned we dealt with this business and that thing is now good and buried in this graveyard, understand?”
“That’s fine by me,” said Doc.
“I got no arguments,” said James.
“Good,” said Clem. “Now let’s get the hell outta here. I got whores to fuck and whiskey to drink.”
James followed Doc and Clem out of the graveyard. Then he jumped in his saddle and rode back into town.
CHAPTER 7
It was getting close to dawn when Bart rode up to the graveyard with the corpse of the woman dragging behind him. He had to butcher and burn the bitch himself now he’d fallen out of favor with Bill.
In the past, Bill would have sent one of his lackeys to dismember and burn the body. Bart hardly ever came out here, to this desolate spot by the graveyard. He’d sent more than a few bodies though, and more than a few lackeys. It wasn’t usually whores that Bart murdered. Mostly it was guys that got in his way or looked at him wrong.
Bill had always turned a blind eye to his murderous rage, cos Bart was useful to him. Besides, it made men more afraid of Bart, and that made them more afraid of Bill, knowing he had a mad dog on a leash.
That was before James, that sneaky little shit, had side swiped him. Bart had limped back into town with a bruised shoulder, busted ribs and a wounded hand that was starting to go bad. Doc Hendry had fixed him best he could, but Bill wouldn’t even see him.
He was out in the cold for the time being. But that would change. James might think he had everyone fooled but Bart knew better. He might have wangled his way into Bill’s good books, trying to replace Bart, but he’d get the goods on him soon. There was something about James that wasn’t right, and when Bart found out what it was, he was gonna fix him good and proper. He’d make James wish he’d never set foot in Dead Scalp.
Bart had been drinking while Clem and James were out chasing whatever Charlie McKinnell had become. If Bart had been in charge, the thing would never have escaped. Clem was slipping and James couldn’t be trusted. Bill would find out, soon enough.
After he’d got good and drunk, Bart had gone round to Molly’s brothel. Bart liked to break in the new girls, let ‘em know what they could expect from now on. Many of ‘em had been snatched from regular life and had never even sucked a dick before, let alone worked in a brothel.
Some of ‘em were married, others even had jobs, like being a librarian or a school teacher. Bart couldn’t believe how bad things were getting on the outside if they were letting women have jobs. There were some real uppity bitches among ‘em. They’d put on all kinds of airs, making threats about what was going to happen when their disappearance was discovered.
No-one was coming for ‘em though, they’d find out pretty soon. They’d never be found in Dead Scalp. They were gonna be whores for the rest of their lives, and if they didn’t get themselves killed, those lives were gonna last longer than most.
Molly let Bart break ‘em in for free. By the time he’d finished with ‘em, they had a pretty good idea of what they had to look forward to. He enjoyed the ones who were full of fire and defiance at the beginning. By the time he was finished with ‘em, they broke down and let him do whatever he wanted.
Bart had a talent for taming the bitches. He knew exactly how to find the source of their strength and self worth. Then he wouldn’t just take it away from ‘em. He’d destroy it utterly. After that you had a whore you could do pretty much anything you wanted with.
Bart had learned how to do this from his mother of all people. She’d raised him by herself and she had a way of honing straight in on a man’s weakness. She’d done as much with Bart.
She’d never chided him for all the trouble he’d caused. Instead she’d pitied him his sinful ways. It cut Bart to his very core that, the things that caused the other kids to fear him, brought only pity from his mother.
She knew this, and she used it remorselessly. Made him feel small and insignificant, some failure to be looked down on. He grew to hate that pity and fear it. Fear it in his mother and any other human being he came across.
That’s how Bart had turned out the way he did. He made people fear him, hate him and respect him, but he wouldn’t tolerate pity in anyone. That’s why he was so good at breaking the bitches in. He was paying each and every one of them back for the pity that his mother had terrorized him with.
Molly wouldn’t let him have a girl for free when he’d turned up at the brothel. She’d greeted him personally and given him a bottle on the house, the real stuff too, not the watered down shit she gave to most customers. Then she’d explained to him, as sweetly as she could, that according to Bill’s orders, Bart wasn’t to get no more free pussy from now on.
Bart was close to beating her unconscious, but Molly knew her way around him. She assured him that it was only temporary, that he’d be back in with Bill in no time, and then she’d make certain to do something real special for him. But she had to ask him to pay just this once, cos she couldn’t afford to get on the wrong side of Bill.
Bart had stood and thrown his coins on the floor to make certain Molly had to get down at his feet to pick the money up. Then he’d staggered into the dark room where the new arrival was chained to the wall.
Straight away she started into him. Calling him a filthy pig who stank. Telling him that nothing in the world would make her submit to his lustful demands. He smacked her around a little. Nothing that would break bones or knock her unconscious, just enough to make her see sense.
That didn’t do a thing to shut her up though. She started screaming and calling him names. Asking him if this was the sort of man he was? The sort who had to beat a woman senseless before she’d agree to sleep with him.
Bart could see a more brutal approach was needed, so he pulled out his knife and put it to her throat, hard enough to draw blood. Then he pulled his cock out. She looked down at his stiff cock, swollen with blood, and she laughed. A bitter mocking laugh that made him wilt.
“Call that a cock?” she said. “My two year old boy has a bigger cock than that. You think I’m going to be scared of something that tiny?”
Bart really lost his temper then. It was one insult too many. He’d been in enough bath houses to know he was fairly well hung.
He couldn’t take any more. He’d been forced to pay for his cunny. He’d been frozen out by Big Bill. And he’d been blindsided by that little pissant James Briggs. There was only so much humiliation a man could take.
So he took the knife and sliced through the bodice of her dress. Th
en he tore the material apart and sliced the straps on her brassiere. “Go on, take a good look you pig,” she’d said as her breasts swung free.
Instead of touching her breasts and letting her mock him some more, he stuck the knife in the side of her body. She wailed in pain and outrage. Then she spat in his face and called him a worm. A tiny little worm who needs a knife to feel big.
Bart was filled with a blinding fury. He couldn’t find her weak spot. Couldn’t pin down what gave her such strength and self worth.
He stuck the knife in her stomach. She wailed again, even louder and this got Bart good and hard. Before she could spit at him, Bart pushed his cock into the bleeding gash in her stomach.
Her stomach wall gripped his dick real tight. He liked the way her blood felt dripping off his balls. He even liked the way her innards parted as he pushed his cock into ‘em. But he hated the way she’d stared at him the whole time he was doing it.
Her stare spoiled the whole thing. He was fucking her to death, but he didn’t feel at all powerful. She was dying, but her sneer had made him feel small and pathetic. He took his knife and stabbed it in her jugular, then sliced down the vein.
The blood sprayed both of them. A fierce jet that left him dripping with gore. The look on her face as she died had made his cock shrink. It wasn’t the contempt that shone in her eyes as she died, it was the pity that cut him to his core.
In her dying moments the woman had pitied Bart. Pitied him worse than his mother ever had. Bart’s cock shriveled quicker than if he’d been standing in a snow drift. It plopped out of her stomach and retreated up into his wrinkled ball sack till it was smaller than Bart had ever seen it.
At this point Molly walked in. Bart was actually crying as she entered. Tears ran down his cheeks and blood dripped from his tiny little dick. He knew, in that moment, that she no longer feared him. That he would never have power over her again. Not after she’d seen him like this.