The Pit in the Woods: A Mercy Falls Mythos

by Nathaniel Reed

  Jeremy and Staci had gotten more serious, and had even started discussing sex, although it was still clear she wasn’t ready. Meanwhile Myron made fumbling attempts at flirtation with girls, which inadvertently met with laughter, at his prim and proper use of language.

  Tonight, the five of them were going to meet up, after Jeremy’s shift at the Pizza Palace, to go bowling. Per the usual- Tony was picking him up, and a rarity- all five of them were riding in Tony’s car- two in the front, three in the back. Staci had the honor of being squished between Johnny and Myron, Jeremy taking the front seat alongside Tony when he went to pick him up.

  “Hey guys,” Jeremy said, as he got in the car.

  “Jeremy, what’s shaking bro,” Johnny said. “Hope you don’t

  mind, Myron and me got the squeeze on your girl.”

  “It is Myron and I,” Myron corrected.

  Jeremy made a face and laughed.

  “As long as you aren’t squeezing anything on me,” Staci said.

  “That’d make you my main squeeze,” Johnny said.

  “You wish,” Staci retorted.

  “Enough with the squeezing,” Tony said, which sounded incredibly funny with his accent. Jeremy buckled in and they drove off.

  2

  The bowling alley was fairly empty. It was a Sunday night, and though still technically the weekend, they never got the kind of business they did on Fridays and Saturdays. Except for a few couples and an odd man out, they pretty much had the place to themselves. It didn’t feel quite right. Everything was too quiet. But they made the most of their good fortune and bowled for two hours before they called it quits. After all, they still had school in the morning.

  Jeremy daydreamed that the odd man out was a vampire bowling there, in his raggedy clothes, snarling at Jeremy. Except that he couldn’t be snarling at Jeremy because he was bowling with Jeremy’s head. He took it in one hand and jammed two dirty taloned fingers into the decapitated head’s eyes, making a sickening squishing sound as the eyeballs caved in, and then rolled Jeremy’s head down the aisle. It only knocked down one pin, and the vampire started flailing its arms and gnashing its teeth, in essence throwing a temper tantrum. Jeremy turned away.

  A year later, on a whim, he would rent a movie called Near Dark, and watch a scene where vampires took over a bowling alley, that would remind him of that night.

  “I am never renting another vampire movie again,” he’d tell himself out loud. By then they were all over vampires.

  3

  It took another month before the cast was removed from Blake’s hand and considered completely healed, and it would take time to reach its full capacity. It was slow and ached, the fingers slow to move, but he practiced with a rubber ball every day, rolling it between his fingers and squeezing it until his hand gained its strength back. Twisting his wrist was the hardest part. It was where the main break occurred, but he wanted full use of his gun hand, in case he would need to use it again. So Blake worked through the pain, pushing himself to turn it a little more each day.

  He hadn’t talked to the kids in over a week. Blake thought it best he let them just be teenagers for a while. The owner’s at the Hillside Bed and Breakfast stopped asking questions about his hand. Blake had been demoted to light duty, namely paperwork, and small chores at the diner until he could wash dishes again. At least he could still make enough money to stay. The doctor advised against that sort of monotonous, tedious work if he could avoid it- it would only exacerbate the injury. But if he had to do it, he should give it at least another month’s time until his hand could be, for the most part, fully functional.

  Oh, it would have to be fully functional all right. In a month he’d be leaving again; he hoped for good this time.

  4

  “I can’t believe we’re graduating in a month,” Tony said, as they walked down the halls towards their homerooms.

  “Yeah,” Johnny said, “Finally be free of this hell-hole!”

  “Really?” Myron said, “Is it really that bad?”

  “You tell me,” Johnny said, “You’re the one that was getting pounded on an almost daily basis.”

  “Yes, well… they are gone, and I like learning.”

  “Leave Myron alone Johnny,” Staci interjected. “You know,

  when he grows up he’ll probably be making computer chips, making big bucks, while you’ll be stuck working at a car wash or something.”

  Johnny rolled his eyes and wiggled his fingers exaggeratedly. “Well la de da!” He patted Myron on the back, “You know I’m only playing short stuff.”

  “Yes, I know,” Myron conceded.

  “Besides, you’re only a freshman. You’ll have plenty of time to learn to hate Liberty High.”

  Although they all focused on their studies now (even Johnny), the moments that got them through school were the times they were together- before and between classes, lunch, and after school. School itself was just another way not to think of other things. With the exception of Myron, learning was solely an escape, nothing else.

  5

  “I like it here,” Staci said.

  “Me too,” Jeremy decided. They sat on the bench in the park where they’d first started to get to know one another.

  “It’s much nicer in the spring, with all the trees and flowers in full bloom.”

  Jeremy looked at her, “Yeah.”

  “What was that?” she said.

  “What?”

  “That look.”

  “Just thinking.”

  She nudged him, “About what?”

  He smiled. “About how you appreciate the little things, but you hardly ever…ever…”

  “…voice what it is that I am feeling?” Staci said.

  “Yeah. Careful there, you’re starting to sound like Myron.”

  Staci giggled. “Myron’s nice. He’s really smart.”

  “Yeah, he is,” Jeremy agreed.

  Staci took his hand. “Let’s go for a walk.”

  6

  He bent to pick up his wallet. Blake had forgotten it was still in his jeans when he sat on the bed, and started to take them off. It fell out of his back pocket. When he grabbed it, the wallet flipped open, and a white corner stuck out of one of the slots reserved for credit cards.

  “What’s this?” Blake said. He pulled it out and smiled. He’d forgotten. The business card, from the woman he met in the alley. Andrea. Gursky was her last name. She’d been quite lovely. He didn’t think he wanted to pose for any photographs. Whatever ad campaign she was shooting for was probably over anyhow.

  Blake had been mending for a while, and he supposed it wouldn’t hurt to give her a call, but not now. He was going to bed, but tomorrow morning… maybe.

  7

  “What do you think it’s going to be like when John and Tony leave?” Staci asked.

  Jeremy looked away long enough from the red cardinal he’d been gazing at, up in the tree along the path they walked, to answer her. “I don’t know. Blake will be leaving too.”

  “Yeah, guess he’s not needed here anymore,” Staci said sadly. “At least he’ll be safer if he’s not in town.”

  “But he doesn’t have anyone. No family, no friends.”

  Staci smiled.

  “I thought that was sad,” Jeremy specified.

  “It is,” Staci seconded. “I was just thinking Blake would probably think it was pathetic that his only friends are a bunch of kids; except he would say that with a British accent.”

  Jeremy laughed, “Yeah.”

  She put her arm through his and looked up into his eyes. “I love you.”

  Jeremy beamed, “Yeah? I love you too.”

  She kissed him briefly, and they continued walking.

  “Staci?” he said nervously.

  “Yes Jeremy?”

  “Do you think we’ll ever make… make…”

  “...Love?” Staci finished for him, “Yes.”

  He didn’t want to push her, so he didn’t say anything e
lse.

  “I’m not ready yet,” she said after a silence. “I want it to be the right moment.”

  “Okay,” he said. He wasn’t sure how he’d know that it was the right moment, but didn’t say so.

  “Just know that right now, at this moment, I love you, sweet Jeremy. I hope that’s enough for now.”

  Jeremy smiled. “Yes, yes it is.” He wasn’t sure how much longer that would be the case.

  8

  He did call Andrea that morning. She told Blake the particular ad campaign she wanted him for was over, but that he could meet her at her studios, and they might be able to work something out. Blake wasn’t exactly sure what that entailed, but he would give it a shot, still admitting that he didn’t like to be photographed. She said that was okay, if he wasn’t up to it. She would show him the studio, and perhaps they could get some coffee afterward.

  And the plot thickens.

  He agreed to it. They would meet at three that afternoon.

  9

  Myron was at home reading a book in bed, when the phone downstairs rang. His mother called up to him.

  “Myron, it’s for you!”

  That was odd. His friends rarely called him at home. They

  usually just did stuff after school or met up somewhere later. He

  picked it up.

  “Hello?”

  “Myron, its Johnny.”

  “Hi Johnny. What is going on?”

  “Can you at least try to sound less like a dork?”

  “What’s up?”

  “That’s better.”

  “Why do you always make fun of me Johnny?”

  “Aww, c’mon kid, it’s ’cause I love ya, you know that, right?”

  “I guess. Why the call?”

  “You’re actually the only one that answered. Jeremy and Staci are on a date, and Tony’s going to do something with his parents. Honestly, I’m fuckin’ bored here. Thought you might want to take a ride on my bike.”

  “Your bike? You mean your motorcycle?”

  “Yeah, that one.” He couldn’t help but grin at the excitement in Myron’s voice.

  “Cool!”

  “All right, I’ll pick you up in half. We’ll cruise the streets, check out the chicks…”

  “Okay, I’ll see ya!” Myron said. It felt odd coming out of his mouth, but he said it anyway.

  “All right, later bud.”

  10

  He said goodbye to her at the door. And joy of joys she said it once again.

  “Okay Jeremy, have a good day. Love you.”

  “Love you too,” he said, and kissed her.

  Staci grinned, and blushed, which was a first, and then hugged him tight. Jeremy left feeling light as air. He actually caught himself whistling on his walk home. Wasn’t even sure what tune it was, but

  there it was. He had friends, and a great girlfriend. Jeremy was happy.

  11

  The studio was a large space with white walls, a motorized multi-color backdrop system, a three light configuration with tripods, and a changing room. He didn’t know much what anything else was, but for all intents and purposes the place looked legitimate.

  “Ah, M-Mark, welcome!” Andrea said when she saw him poke his head in the open door. She was more beautiful than he remembered.

  “Hello,” Blake said.

  “Come in, I was just clearing things up from my last shoot.” She still had her Nikon slung over her shoulder. Andrea set it down on a table next to her camera bag. The black backdrop was currently down. She walked over to a panel of buttons and pressed one. The spindle from which it hung whirred to life and the dark paper lifted off the floor and away from the wall it covered, spinning upward until it was out of the way completely.

  “Impressive,” Blake said.

  “Not really, just your basic studio set-up.”

  “Well, guess I’ve never seen what a real studio looks like.”

  “So, would you mind if I took a few shots of you?” Andrea asked.

  “Um, no,” Blake said, “I mean yes, I’d rather not, I’m sorry.”

  “That’s all right,” she smiled, “Come here.”

  He walked over to her and she kissed him on the mouth. She looked into his eyes, waiting for a reaction.

  “What was that for?” Blake asked.

  “Just because.” She slid her arms around his waist and drew him close, and began to kiss him, open mouthed. For a moment he gave in, and then backed away.

  “I’m confused. Didn’t you want to show me around? Get coffee? Talk?”

  “Does this not please you?”

  That was an odd turn of phrase.

  “I didn’t say that. It’s just…”

  “Then shut up and enjoy it,” she said.

  Something was wrong, seriously wrong. He couldn’t put his finger on it. Her grip was strong. She yanked his head back and jammed her tongue down his throat; the other arm behind him was still at his waist. It wasn’t until he attempted to wrench himself away that he felt the sharp pain at his lower back, four points of entry as the talons ripped through skin. Andrea pulled away from the kiss.

  Blake knew what was wrong now, what he hadn’t seen or noticed before. The room was cold, and so was her skin. She had no mirrors anywhere, not even in the open door to the changing room. And now she was no longer just Andrea, the beautiful woman he’d met. She was one of The Others: gray skinned; bald; veined; long, muscular, sinewy body with only a hint of breasts; large fangs and talons; and wings arching out around him. Not a beautiful woman, but a nightmare.

  He heard the wet slap of blood on the ground as she retrieved her taloned hand from his back, and he felt himself falling backward. She made no attempt to catch him. Something else he noticed. She’d stuttered his name when he came in. At least, the name he gave her, because she knew his real name.

  “Blake!” she hissed, looking down at him.

  “How did you know?”

  “I smelled the death of my brothers on you. The remnants of their blood.”

  He couldn’t get up. God, the pain! He was in no position to fight, and he came weaponless, unprepared. Stupid, stupid!

  “Don’t worry Blake,” she said, “I don’t want to kill you.”

  He couldn’t help the surprise in his voice. “You don’t?”

  “No, I want you to suffer. I admire you, respect you even, but when you killed two of my own kind, not those pesky underlings, you really went too far. How could such a little man like you kill two of mine?”

  “The grays, The Others,” Blake said, understanding. “You don’t care about all the other vampires I’ve killed?”

  “No, as long as the ancients survive, there is always more room for underlings, but of our own choosing. They hide in corners, in shadows, in underground caverns. We hide in the light and attack with impunity.”

  “But yet if you were to go out in the light now, in your true form, you’d be toast, just like them,” Blake smiled.

  She knocked the wind out of Blake with one hoofed foot planted firmly on his chest. “Do you value your life so little you would mock me even as your life blood spills out on my floor?”

  Blake grinned. “I died a long time ago when I lost my wife and daughter to your kind. There’s nothing you could do to me that would hurt me more than that.”

  The Andrea-thing laughed. “You’ve got balls, I’ll give you that! That’s why I like you. It wasn’t my kind that killed them. It was those pathetic pit-puppies.”

  “It doesn’t matter. You all come from the same diseased cesspool that turns human beings into monsters.”

  She kicked him in the chest again. It felt as if it would cave in, but it didn’t. Her face betrayed her anger, her freakish monstrous face, smiling through jagged teeth.

  “Ah, such a way with words. Almost poetic.” She walked over to the table and picked up her camera, crouching down beside him, and took a few shots. “For posterity,” she assured him. She set the camera down. “Stay out of the way o
f the ancients. That’s my word of advice. What happens to you, or what you do after this, I don’t care. I’m going to lock the door behind me. You can make your way out or bleed to death. If I find you here alive tomorrow, I will finish you off.” The Andrea creature bent down toward his head, breathing the stench of death into his face. Blake flinched, and hated himself for doing so, not wanting to concede that she had any power over him. She grinned, moved toward his side, lapping up the blood that had spilled on the floor there, and looked up at him.

  “Mmm, tasty.” She turned back into Andrea, the woman.

  What she had once looked like before she became The Other thing. She stood up. “Goodbye Blake. Have a good life… or death.” She walked off, the sound of her heels clacking on the tile. He couldn’t turn far enough yet to see her leave, but heard the door slam shut. Boasting her power, getting perverse pleasure from having control over him, she spared his life. It also shamed him, and she knew this, because she could have killed him, easily. She knew it would hurt much more that she hadn’t.

  12

  Myron was enjoying himself on the back of Johnny’s motorcycle, actually sporting a full grin (which was a rarity for him) as the wind whipped through his hair.

  Johnny was pointing out all the “tail” as he liked to call the nice looking women. Myron was just smiling and nodding. They made two stops, one at the ice cream store, and one at the record shop. That was where walking through the aisles they ran into Julia. Johnny called her name.

  “Well, well, if it isn’t Johnny,” she smiled. “You never called me again after our first date. Was I that awful?”

  He knew she was teasing, and not mad, because she was all grins and playing with her hair.

  “No, not at all. Just never got around to it; school and stuff.”

  “Hanging out with friends?” she asked, looking at Myron.

  “Yeah, that too.”

  “It’s Myron right?” Julia asked.

  “Yes,” Myron said.