The Pit in the Woods: A Mercy Falls Mythos

by Nathaniel Reed

  “We were never formally introduced.”

  Johnny almost added because we were either fighting for our lives or getting killed. They both looked down briefly instead. “I wouldn’t mind taking you out again,” Johnny said.

  “Boy, you sure know how to make a girl feel wanted,” Julia said.

  Johnny laughed. “No, I mean it. It’s just I graduate in a month,

  and I’ll probably be leaving here soon.”

  “Ah, school, I’ve forgotten the joys of it. You’re leaving?”

  “Yeah, my stepdad’s got a job in St. Louis. We’re all moving out there in a few months I guess.”

  “Ah, well, we can do something I suppose, before you go.”

  “Something?” Johnny teased.

  “Go out or something. Strictly as friends,” she teased back.

  “Yeah, totally platonic, I agree.”

  “I didn’t think you even knew that word Johnny.”

  He waved his hands, and chuckled. “Surprise, surprise.”

  “Well, I’ll see you around,” Julia said. “Call me.”

  Johnny nodded. “I’ll see ya.”

  They went down separate aisles. “Are you actually going to call her?” Myron asked.

  “Sure, why not? It could be fun.”

  “I think she really likes you.”

  “Oh yeah… I know.”

  13

  Of the options she gave him, Blake chose not to bleed to death. The wounds were deep but she hadn’t hit anything major. He just had to apply pressure to them.

  He made his way up to a half-seated position by lying on his side, pulling his shirt, and then undershirt off. He used the undershirt to soak up the blood, and hold over the wounds. When he was satisfied that he had stopped the flow he wound the undershirt around him. It had gone from white to completely red, as if it had never been any other color. It was a slow, painful process, particularly when tying the knot at his side tight. Then he put his other shirt, a blue chambray back on, leaving the buttons open. Because it was spring he didn’t have any type of overcoat on that he could cover the bloodstains with. He crawled his way to the changing room and saw there were several outfits hanging on a bar. He gripped the changing table and propped himself back up to a standing position. Blake wobbled and teetered on his feet for a moment, eventually gaining his balance. Although most of the clothes was feminine, he did find a suitable leather jacket that appeared to be unisex. It fit.

  Still weak and shuffling on his feet, he made his way to the door. She had locked it from the outside, and he was able to open it. The sun seemed blinding after the somewhat dim indoors. He shielded his eyes as he walked. Now he understood why this studio was in such a secluded warehouse district. There wasn’t another soul in sight. She could lure people here and kill them easily, maintaining her business savvy alter-ego, and no one would ever suspect up until the point she eviscerated them and fed. He was almost certain she even had a properly sophisticated way of disposing the bodies.

  Blake had to make his way through several streets to find what he needed- a payphone.

  14

  His happiness didn’t last long. Not more than half an hour after he arrived back home, Jeremy got the call from Blake that he was in trouble. Jeremy immediately called Tony, getting his answering machine. He wasn’t home yet from dinner. He couldn’t get over to Blake without a ride, and Blake refused to call 911. He was wary of risking exposure, and getting turned in.

  Johnny. It wasn’t his best resource, but Johnny had his motorcycle. Fortunately when he called, Johnny had just gotten back home, and Jeremy could tell him where to pick Blake up. Jeremy walked over to Johnny’s house, and they met up in his garage, Johnny arriving subsequently with Blake in tow. Neither his mother, nor stepfather was there at the moment.

  “Thank you boys,” Blake said.

  “What do you need us to do Blake?” Jeremy said. “Is it bad?”

  “Bad enough,” Blake said, stumbling off the bike, and

  propping himself up on the wall. “As you can see, I can barely stand. I don’t suppose either of you are good at stitching?”

  They shook their heads. Blake sighed. “Okay, the hard and painful way it is. Do you have a blowtorch in this garage?”

  Johnny nodded, understanding. His face was grim, eyes opening as he slowly pointed toward a row of tools along the far wall.

  “Good, I’ll need you to cauterize the wounds.” Blake took off the jacket, then his shirt. He was neither muscular nor flabby. He had some definition, due to walking a lot, and his self-training. There was a thin layer of hair across his chest that had gone mostly gray.

  Jeremy looked at the bloody bandages, alarmed. “Blake, how did this happen? Was it a vamp?”

  “Yes.”

  Blake turned, seeing the question in his eyes. It was still broad daylight. The sun was still due to set an hour or more from now.

  “I’ll explain later. It was a stupid mistake on my part, and I assure you it will never happen again.”

  Johnny approached with the blowtorch. Blake peeled off the bandages. Jeremy flinched at the sight of the raw open wounds.

  “Are you ready?” Blake asked Johnny.

  “No,” he responded.

  “Good. Don’t shoot it straight on all right? Come at them from the side and scorch the tops of the wounds. Hurry up boy before I collapse!”

  “All right!” Johnny said, rushing over.

  “Wait! Jeremy, be a dear and get me that chunk of wood.”

  Jeremy brought over a block of wood that was lying on a work table, and Blake placed it in his mouth, biting down.

  Blake nodded for Johnny to go on. Johnny fired up the blowtorch, “Okay, here goes.”

  The pained face Johnny made almost caused Jeremy to laugh, but now was definitely not the time. Blake cried out as the flame licked the first wound. He nearly lost the chunk of wood between his jaws.

  “Are you all right?” Johnny said.

  Blake nodded. At least now he knew what it felt like. He bit down harder on the square. The second burn was bad, but he dealt with it. The third felt a bit less painful. By the fourth he was numb to it.

  “Thank you Johnny,” he said, standing straight. “That feels much better.” He wobbled a little.

  “All right Blake. Here, sit,” Johnny pulled up a chair from a corner. Blake fell into it, practically knocking the chair over, and himself with it.

  “Are you sure you don’t need to go to the hospital?” Jeremy asked.

  “No hospitals!” Blake said.

  “Okay,” Johnny said, “But I can’t keep you here. My mom will be home soon. We gotta get you back to your place.”

  “I’m gonna try to call Tony again,” Jeremy said. “Can I use your phone?”

  “Good idea. Yeah,” Johnny said, “Through that door, in the kitchen.”

  Jeremy was able to reach Tony this time. They got Blake into the front seat of Tony’s car, Jeremy and Johnny sitting in the back.

  “Blake, are you sure you’re going to be all right?” Tony said, as he stepped out of the car to let Blake out.

  “Yes,” Blake said, “Just need to rest, recuperate.”

  “What if he’s lost too much blood?” Jeremy said.

  “I haven’t. I’m fine.”

  Tony asked, “Are you sure you don’t want to go to a hospital?”

  “No hospital,” the three of them said in accord.

  “Okay,” Blake said, “Hurry away before the Sedrick’s see you.”

  “All right Blake,” Johnny said, “Be careful.”

  Blake looked at him seriously, and nodded. They left him there, unsure.

  He did his best to walk through the door of the Hillside Bed and Breakfast as normally as possible. It apparently was not normal enough.

  “Mark!” Rudy greeted him from the kitchen. His demeanor became concern quickly. “Mr. Trimble, are you all right?”

  “Yes,” Blake waved him off, “Just very tired. I’m going to
go upstairs and crash for a bit. I’m feeling a bit under the weather.”

  “All right, you rest,” Rudy said. “Hope you feel better.”

  The moment his head hit the pillow Blake fell into a deep sleep riddled with monsters.

  II

  GRADUATION

  1

  It was a week later when Johnny went on his date with Julia. Tony let him borrow his car, with the understanding that he promised not to do anything in it, other than drive.

  Blake was fully recovered from his injuries, including his hand, at least to where it functioned normal, and the scabbed over wounds at his back no longer itched.

  Staci and Jeremy were going strong, so long as he didn’t think about or bring up the pesky “sex” subject.

  Tony continued doing what he did best, building things.

  The school year was almost over.

  After going out to eat and to the movies, Johnny and Julia were making out in the car parked outside the movie theatre. He kissed her neck and slowly ran his hand under her shirt. She moaned.

  “Johnny, do you want to take this somewhere else?” Julia asked.

  “Oh yes,” he said, breathing heavy, “But not at my place.”

  “I’ve got my own place. It’s not much, but it’ll do.”

  “Okay,” he agreed.

  And when she said it wasn’t much, she meant it. It was a small

  strip of a room efficiency apartment, with a mini-stove, mini-fridge, and twin bed, little more than a college dorm really. But he didn’t mind. He knew she wasn’t rich, but Julia was cool, and she was hot. He didn’t know what an oxymoron was, but he knew he’d just contradicted himself.

  They threw themselves into each other with wild abandon, and when it was over they collapsed into a heap of limbs and sheets, her body twined with his. Johnny wasn’t sure that it meant anything. He was only certain that it had been good. Really good.

  2

  Graduation had finally come. Tony’s parents were there, and Johnny’s mom was there. His stepfather was not, which didn’t surprise him in the slightest. Julia was there. They’d been together the last few weeks. And Staci, Jeremy, and Myron were there, of course. Blake stood by them, introducing himself to anyone who asked as Mark Trimble. He wore a funny looking mustache and had dyed his hair black, and was wearing a black fedora. This was done as much to hide his identity as it was to amuse the kids. Blake wasn’t especially known for his humor, and it was nice to see he was trying to say goodbye on a light-hearted note. They did laugh hysterically when they first saw him, for a moment forgetting he was leaving them, and town, once the ceremony was over.

  Once the names were called and the caps were tossed, they congratulated Tony and Johnny. It was hard for Blake to separate them from their parents, but he did finally get a chance to hug them and bid them farewell. The two graduates went home with their parents, and Blake sat with Staci, Jeremy, and Myron at a Denny’s, to eat with them, and speak with them for the last time.

  They wouldn’t see Blake again for another twenty-eight years.

  3

  The five of them spent most of the summer together, until

  Johnny, and then Tony, both left town, promising to write and call, which lasted for a few months.

  Johnny said goodbye to Julia.

  “Will you ever come back to see me?’ she asked.

  He shook his head, “I don’t think so.” She cried. He’d only meant he didn’t intend to ever come back to town again, not as a rejection of her. Julia didn’t take it that way, and he didn’t dwell on it long enough to think to correct her. He never wrote her or called.

  With both Johnny and Tony gone, the bonds between the remaining three grew stronger than ever, especially between Jeremy and Staci. In September of that year, a week after Tony left, Jeremy and Staci made love.

  They were inseparable after that. And they hung out with Myron whenever they could. After graduation, Staci stayed for the next six months, before moving to Connecticut. The relationship they’d thought would last forever ended three months earlier. It hadn’t gone out with a bang, or a big argument. No one had wronged the other. It had simply fizzled. As with many bright new relationships, the emotions were so high and the passions so intense at the outset, it could not sustain itself for long. There were no regrets, just a melancholic sadness.

  Jeremy stayed in Mercy Falls for three years before moving back to New York. Staci came to visit once, for Myron’s graduation. Though awkward, it was nice to see her. Although Myron attended community college in town, Jeremy rarely spent time with him anymore, other than talking on the phone, before he too left town. Their circle was broken, and the one who’d kept Jeremy the strongest and the most positive was gone.

  III

  ANDREA

  1

  There was no reason to go back, except that he couldn’t let it go. That was the main reason, but not the only one. Following very closely behind that was the knowledge that if he let her continue luring men into her makeshift studio in the old warehouse, he would not be able to live with himself. Blake would be just as guilty as if he’d killed them himself.

  It was true Andrea had almost killed him. But he hadn’t been prepared. It was true she warned him if he escaped he should never come back, or she would kill him next time. Well, she could try. Though she was one of The Others, much more powerful than the common vampire, he had already killed two of them; one with help.

  Andrea would not expect him to return. She would be caught completely by surprise, as he had been. Being prepared, and having the element of surprise would give him the major advantage. Blake had said his goodbyes to the children, and didn’t plan to visit them again. Their lives were simpler without any more life or death adventures. They deserved to be happy, without fear.

  But Blake could not go on, knowing this unholy thing lived, or did whatever passed for a life. He had to do this final thing in Mercy Falls, before he left for good.

  2

  Andrea Gursky had been delighted to find Blake gone that day, having survived his wounds. At least, she assumed he had survived them. He had gotten out of the studio. She laughed heartily. The trail of blood leading to the door was not as wet as she had expected; more like smears. He was apparently even more resourceful than she’d thought. Blake had bandaged himself up. Besides the initial pool of blood which was now beginning to cake, he hadn’t lost much.

  She wasn’t very hungry at that moment, so Andrea retrieved a mop from the supply closet, soaked it in disinfectant bleach, and got to work cleaning up the blood, her high heels clacking along. She whistled some tune, from a song she’d long forgotten, something from her human days.

  “Good ole Blake. Happy trails my friend.” Of course she said this never expecting to see him again.

  3

  The first thing Blake needed was heavy artillery. The next thing he needed was weaponry for close range. The heavy artillery would minimize the need for the latter. And all of it had to be stuff he could carry, without the use of a weapons case. He had to be able to move fast for his plan to work. He went to his supplier in Salem, and came back armed with an AK-47 assault rifle, and a light crossbow that could be strapped to his back; a beat up rusted Ford Rabbit on loan to carry his stuff into the warehouse district until he could safely unload them without prying eyes. Despite the heat he wore his trench coat to conceal his other weapons of choice: Holy water, a stake, two additional guns strapped to his sides, a grenade, cross, and a knife. He also carried a twenty foot length of rope.

  Now a fully healed, fully armed, and fully prepared Blake drove the car through the now defunct abandoned buildings. He parked several blocks from where he knew Andrea “worked,” and walked the rest to the back of the building. There he climbed the fire escape to the roof, listening for sounds, watching for any movement other than his own.

  Blake found what he’d been looking for. He had been right. It was something he barely noticed when he entered the studio the first tim
e, but there had been wood paneling on the ceiling of the studio, but only in one area- the center. What it had been covering was what he found now- a skylight. Its domed interior was created by squares of glass that curved up and out. When he looked through it, he saw the other side of the wood panels he had seen that day.

  The sunlight wouldn’t have hurt her in human form, but if she’d changed to feed, even a stray ray of light would have burned her.

  He crouched down, his ear to the ground. He walked to the front side of the building’s roof to see if he could observe her approaching. He wasn’t certain if she was already inside. It was a little past four p.m. He couldn’t make his move until he was absolutely sure. He watched and listened for approximately ten minutes. There was no movement that he could detect, and no vehicles of any kind in the vicinity. If he was right, she wasn’t there yet. He hoped he was. He didn’t want to make a mistake.

  Blake used the butt of his gun to break each square of glass in the skylight. He paused, listened again for movement, and walked toward the front once more to make sure no one came out. When he felt assured there wasn’t going to be anyone investigating he went back to the broken skylight, and squeezed the trigger on the AK gently, a short burst of gun fire punching through the wood paneling, enough to create several holes that he would be able to see through down into the studio. He brushed the glass away to the sides with his boot, stepping through the broken dome to stand on the wood itself, testing it for strength with one foot, then the other, before leaning his full weight on it. It would probably be thick enough to hold him there for several hours. He hoped he wouldn’t need that long.

  Crouching down to look through one of the eyeholes he created, he skimmed the studio left and right, content that it appeared to be empty. Now he was ready and poised for when she arrived. He uncoiled the length of rope, looped a knot through the girders of the broken skylight, stretched out on his belly with the AK-47 in both hands, the other end of the rope tied around his waist, and waited.