9 Tales Told in the Dark 4

by 9 Tales Told in the Dark

  9TALES TOLD IN THE DARK#4

  © Copyright 2015 Bride of Chaos/ All Rights Reserved to the Authors.

  First electronic edition 2015

  Edited by A.R. Jesse

  Cover by Turtle&Noise

  In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher is unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like to use material from the book (other than for review purposes) prior written permission must be obtained from the author and publisher.

  This Collection is presented by THE 9 TALES SERIES for more information on this series please visit www.brideofchaos.com

  THE AUTHORS YOU SHOULD BE READING

  Visit our Website for FREE STORIES

  And ‘Like’ us on Facebook for all the latest news and FREE PROMOTIONS

  https://www.facebook.com/The9Tales

  9TALES TOLD IN THE DARK#4

  Table of Contents

  WEEDS by Eric S Brown

  THE CHILDREN OF BONETOWN by Dale L. Sproule

  COME INTO MY PARLOR by Rachel Slater

  LAST TRAIN BEFORE CHRISTMAS by Mike Driver

  TOUCH OF THE INNOCENT by Jim Lee

  SEEING THINGS by Sara Green

  INTO THE VORTEX by Jeffery Scott Sims

  JUST LIKE JIMMY DALTON by Sara Green

  THE GARDEN by Nathan Hystad

  TALES

  TOLD

  IN THE

  DARK

  #4

  WEEDS by Eric S Brown

  The battle had not gone well. The rebels had came at them from everywhere without warning. Col. Stephen Bacon considered himself lucky to be alive but he was far from out of danger. As the screaming men in gray broke through the defensive lines of his supply convoy, he’d hightailed it the hell out of there knowing that to have stayed and continued fighting against such overwhelming odds would have only meant certain death. Of course now he was lost, ill equipped, and worst of all alone in enemy territory.

  In the distance, he could hear the sound of his pursuers. Their confident voices echoing in the trees as they searched for him. He couldn’t tell how many of them there were but he could tell it was too many for him to handle alone. He could only guess they’d noticed his retreat and were damn determined that all the Yanks who had set foot upon their soil would meet death this day.

  Stephen leaned against a tree pressing his back to its bark and checked the chamber of his .44. There were two shots left. He readied the weapon hoping he wouldn’t have to use it and sprinted on deeper into the woods. The trees were thick and the forest floor littered with huge their huge roots bursting through the soft soil from overgrowth. Sweat dripped from his hair stinging his eyes. His whole body ached from exhaustion but still he ran. As he rounded a tree, which to his tired, burning eyes seemed to have just sprang up into his path, he tripped and fell sprawling into the dirt. As he struck the ground, his finger tightened on the trigger of his revolver, discharging a round into the air. His head collided with a nasty thud against the base of another tree and his world went black.

  Stephen was awakened by the deeply southern voice of a man in gray standing above him. “Looks like the Yank’s wakin’ up boys,” the man said. Stephen glanced up at him through a haze of pain. Stephen started to raise a hand to cradle his throbbing head but the man placed a heavy boot on his arm pinning it to the ground. Stephen gritted his teeth as the man pressed down the boot harder in a grinding motion as if trying to tear the skin off Stephen’s arm with its heel.

  The man smelt like a pig and his yellow teeth gleamed as he smiled. “What’s your name Yank?” he demanded.

  “Col. Stephen Bacon of the Union Army,” Stephen answered trying to maintain his composure and not sure the fear he felt. He looked around at the men’s companions. There were five of them in all dressed in filthy, ragged confederate uniforms. None of them appeared to have a friendly disposition. Hell, they didn’t even look like civilized men.

  The man who apparently was their leader laughed. “What say we light us up a little fire and cook ourselves up some Bacon boys?”

  The others joined in his laughter as he drew a large hunting knife from the hilt on his belt. Stephen heard the distinctive crack of a Spencer repeating rifle. A hole formed in the man’s throat, spraying blood over Stephen’s face as the man collapsed, with a horrible gurgling sound, on top of him. Stephen heard the sound of gunfire as minie balls whizzed over him in the direction the sound of the shot had came from. The sharp crack of the Spencer sounded again and another rebel howled in pain. The rebels were yelling and completely thrown into a panicked state of chaos. Stephen managed to roll the corpse on top of him aside and stared as a man stepped out of the trees dispatching the remaining three rebels with a trio of quick, well placed shots from a pair of .44s as they stood trying to reload.

  The man did a fast check to make sure none of the rebels would be getting up and turned disdainfully to Stephen. He wore the badge of a Union officer pinned to a green jacket. The jacket and his brown pants made him seem to blend into the woods around them as they matched the forest colors. Seeing that Stephen was not a threat, he began the process of looting the rebels’ bodies.

  “What are you doing?” Stephen asked getting to his feet, disgusted by the sight of an officer growing through the pockets of the dead. “Have you no sense of honor?”

  Without looking up, the man answered, “You’re a college boy, aren’t you? These rebs ain’t gonna be needing anything I’m taking anyway.”

  Stephen pulled himself together and stood upright, straightening out the wrinkles of his uniform as best he could with the flat of his palms. “My name is...”

  “Bacon,” the man informed him. “I heard.” The man apparently found something worth keeping and slipped it into the pack he carried tied to his back.

  “Sir, I assume you are part of the Union army from the insignia you are wearing on your jacket. May I ask what you’re doing out here alone?”

  “I could ask the same,” the man smiled, “but I saw what happened to you and your men. You’re lucky I was close enough to help.”

  “I demand to know who you are sir,” Stephen barked, fed up the man’s cold arrogance.

  “Name’s Jacob Rathbone,” Jacob said he finished his search of the last body and shoved a biscuit he’d found in the dead soldier’s belt pouch into his mouth. “It was nice to meet you Bacon,” he said around the mouthful of bread his was still chewing. “Good luck getting home.” With that said, he got up and headed back into the woods the way he’d came.

  “Wait!” Stephen called out. “You can’t just leave me here!”

  Jacob sighed. “Well come on then. We have a long ways to go before nightfall.” Jacob stopped only to collect his rifle from where he had discarded it during the fight and set off at a brisk pace somewhere between a jog and full out run. Stephen followed after him. “Where are we headed?”

  “A small city, name of Bloomington. I can get you on a train there that’ll take you most of the way home. The rest will be up to you.” Jacob glanced over his shoulder at Stephen. “You boys in blue seem pretty damn useless unless you’re marching, drilling, or formed up in a line, you know that?” Jacob spat. “We’re both going to need a change of clothes before we reach the city. Just hope I’ve got something that’ll fit your lanky arse.”

  As night descended upon the forest, the two northerners made camp at the site of one of Jacob’s caches, still about a day’s walk from the city. Stephen lit a small fire while Jacob dug up his cache. The crate of sawdust and supplies wasn’t buried deep and soon Jacob was prying it open.
Stephen walked over to see what Jacob had. “Holy Lord,” he muttered. Inside the sawdust of the crate were stacks of cartilages, another Spencer rifle, several changes of clothes, and two small wooden boxes. One of them had the word “Ketchum” scrawled across its top.

  Jacob ignored Stephen’s shock and tossed him a set of clothes to try on. “We’ll be back on the trail to Bloomington at first light. I suggest you get some rest.” Jacob informed him.

  “How did you get all that?”

  “The Union spares no expense for its more important operatives,” Jacob snickered bitterly. “The work I do down here means just as much to the war as yours does Colonel.”

  “Exactly what kind of work would that be?” Stephen asked almost wishing he hadn’t when Jacob answered.

  “You kill men in the field, I kill them where they live.”

  “You’re an assassin?”

  “I’m a lot of things, a spy, an assassin, a soldier. I do the things men in uniform like yourself either can’t or won’t.”

  Stephen stood there staring at Jacob in silence. He had no idea what to say.

  Jacob sensed his unease. “Don’t worry, Bacon. I’m as Union as you. I’ll get you to that train alive like I said. Now get dressed and get to sleep.”

  Jacob woke Stephen up before first light. After a quick meal of cold, stale biscuits and berries, they were on the move again. Sometime after the sun had reached its peak in the sky and began the earliest hint of its sinking into the west, they reached a proper road leading into the city and slowed their pace. Stephen could tell Jacob was on edge and grew more so as they traveled the gravel road. “Something’s not right,” Jacob finally admitted, “By my guess, we’ve been on this road for an hour or more and the city is just over that hill. We should have passed some folk by now. This close to the city, the road is usually busy.”

  Jacob stopped. “You still got your .44?”

  “Yes,” Stephen nodded. “It’s hidden under my coat like you told me to wear it.”

  “Here,” Jacob tossed him a handful of bullets. “Load it up.”

  “You expecting trouble?” Stephen drew his revolver and flipped its chamber open, shoving in the rounds.

  “Don’t know,” Jacob shrugged. “Better to be prepared than not.”

  They traveled on to the top of the hill and looked down into the city together. “What in blue blazes?” Jacob breathed aloud as Stephen’s jaw dropped open from the sight in front of them. The city lay sprawled out below them. No one moved in its streets. There wasn’t a single living person or animal to be seen. The buildings though some of them appeared recently built like the entire place were overgrown with vegetation. Grass grew everywhere and long thick vines curved their way around and in some cases even over the houses and shops.

  “What…what happened here?” Stephen turned to face Jacob.

  “This is impossible,” Jacob said. Stone, cold killer that he was, Jacob seemed shaken to his core. “This place was… this was a city less than a month ago. Last time I was here, it was...”

  “Clearly it’s not now,” Stephen pointed out. “Maybe our forces raided it.”

  “No,” Jacob said flatly. “Someone would still be here. Look at the damn weeds! Things grow fast here but not that fast.”

  “Maybe we should head somewhere else,” Stephen suggested. “We’re not going to find any help down there.”

  “Be quiet!” Jacob snapped. “Let me think.”

  “You’re not seriously thinking of heading into that place are you?”

  “We are,” Jacob answered. “I had contacts here. I need to know what the hell’s going on.” Jacob drew one of his own handguns and started down the hill. Stephen reluctantly followed him already having known Jacob long enough to know that further arguing would be pointless.

  As they entered the city, the tall grass covering its streets came up to their knees. Though Bloomington called itself a city, and perhaps it was by southern standards, but to Stephen it appeared to be little more than an oversized town. Jacob led Stephen to the closest of the larger buildings. A sign dangling above its ajar door proclaimed it to the city’s tavern. A vine grew around the door’s frame and over and around the door itself. The vine snapped in two as Jacob forced the door the rest of the way open and went inside. Patches of still more grass and weeds grew up through the cracks in the tavern’s floor. Vines covered the walls, ceiling, and even the bar like spider webs.

  “Hello!” Jacob shouted. Stephen jumped at the sound of his companion’s voice in the otherwise silent surroundings. No answer came.

  Jacob made his way behind the bar grabbing a bottle of something which looked strong and clear. He guzzled nearly a fourth of the bottle before slamming it onto the bar.

  “We should leave now,” Stephen pointed out. “This place is… wrong. I’ve never heard of anything like this before. “

  Jacob chugged more of the bottle and rubbed at his beard. His eyes darted to the doorway behind Stephen. He motioned Stephen to silence and whispered, “Somebody’s out there.”

  Stephen turned around to watch the doorway as a man came stumbling inside. The man wore the tattered remains of a rebel uniform. His skin was a sickly yellow color and he moved as if he were drunk. As the man raised his head to glance at them, Stephen actually screamed. The man had no eyes. Instead some sort of fungus wildly in his empty sockets. The man opened his mouth as if he was trying to imitate Stephen’s terror and a writhing mass of weeds extending a foot or so before his face shot out dancing in the air.

  Jacob grabbed Stephen shoving the colonel out his line of fire and put a .44 caliber bullet into the thing’s face. It staggered backwards but didn’t fall. A black sap like substance intermingled with red blood flowed from where the bullet had struck. “Shit!” Jacob yelled. He quickly put three more shots into the thing. Finally, it fell with a thud to the floor and lay unmoving.

  Stephen dropped to his knees and vomited as Jacob walked over to stand above the thing that passed for a man and shot it again point blank. Then Jacob pulled a knife from his boot and squatted beside the body slicing it open. He reached inside its stomach and pulled out a handful of the things organs. The mess in his hand was covered in a furry, green moss. Jacob threw the entrails down and wiped his hand frantically on his jacket. Whatever the moss was, it had been growing inside the man.

  “Alright,” Jacob conceded. “It’s time to get the hell out of here.”

  Stephen wiped at his mouth, trying to steady himself, and almost vomited again as he eyed the lump of intermingled flesh and plant that Jacob had cut out of the man. “Is this Satan having fun with us or is it some kind of new disease?” he asked in all sincerely, hoping Jacob had an answer. “Are we going to end up like him?”

  “How the hell would I know?” Jacob shot back. “But I can tell you there ain’t no such thing as Satan anymore than there is a God. As to what happened to this poor soul, doesn’t matter. We just need to get out of here like you been begging to do.”

  Above them, a woman emerged from one of the guest rooms at the top of the stairs. Weeds grew in her hair and twigs protruded from her naked body in random patches growing out of her skin.

  “Oh Lord, help us,” Stephen begged.

  Another man came staggering in through the doorway from outside covered in moss and waving vines. Stephen’s completion had become as white as a ghost’s and he was on the verge of a complete breakdown.

  “Keep it together!” Jacob yelled at him. “Stay calm. We can handle these just like we did the first one.”

  Jacob ignored the woman. As slow as the things were, she was too far away to be a threat yet. He focused his attention on the man blocking their exit. His .44 thundered three times in rapid succession, each shot striking the thing in its head. This time almost no blood flowed from the bullet wounds. The thing leaked mostly black sap and did not fall.

  “Damn it!” Jacob drew his other revolver, emptying it into the creature, which continued to inch closer towa
rds them. “Shoot it!” Jacob ordered Stephen.

  The sound of his angry voice jarred Stephen into action. “Fire!” he cried out. He raced behind the counter and hurled bottle after bottle of the more potent spirits at the thing. They broke on impact, splashing over the man and the floor. Jacob had instantly caught on to Stephen’s idea and was already working on getting a makeshift torch going.

  The woman thing reached the bottom of the stairs and dragged her feet towards Stephen. “We’ve got to get out of here!” Stephen shouted.

  Jacob rushed the male creature, flaming torch in hand. He rammed into it sending it careening to the floor and plunged his torch to its stomach. The thing ignited, hissing and popping noises filled the air as it burned. The flames spread quickly about the bar as Jacob darted outside. Stephen rushed after him narrowly avoiding the outstretched hands of the woman as she made a grab for him.

  This time when they saw it, the city was awake. A hundred or more of things like those they’d left behind in the burning tavern filled the streets. A low whistling noise like vines being snapped through the air filled the night around them.

  “Run!” Jacob ordered but Stephen was already ahead of him, bolting for the forest. Stephen glanced over his shoulder to make sure Jacob was following him and collided with a naked man who was more moss than flesh. The pair went rolling through the city’s tall grass. They came to a stop with Stephen on top of the monster. The thing made squishy, wet sounds from his weight being pressed down on it. It reached out an arm clutching his shoulder as if trying to draw him closer to it. The arm tore loose from the thing’s body as Stephen ripped his way free and leapt to his feet.

  The sound of gunfire made Stephen jerk his head around to see Jacob engaged with another of the men. This one looked more like a tree in nature. Its skin was hard and brown like bark and its body creaked as it moved. It held Jacob over its head with a single hand. The assassin fired shot after shot into it to no effect. The bullets blew chunks of its wood-like flesh apart but it seemed to feel no pain from the damage Jacob was inflicting. Stephen heard Jacob’s neck snap as the thing tightened its grip.