by Ryan Casey
My thoughts were interrupted as Donald’s hand edged towards the black bag. He tried not to look at it. I took a deep breath, taking in the smell of fresh earth. Donald toyed with the zip on the side.
Then he started to open it.
As his hand travelled down the side of the bag, a rotten chicken stench poisoned the air. Adam gagged and covered his mouth. I wasn’t sure if I could hold my cough in. It travelled up my chest and hit the back of my throat. My toes curled at the sour taste in my mouth.
I saw her face.
She looked peaceful. Her face was so white that it looked like she’d been dipped in flour, but her skin looked slimy, like an eel. Everything about her looked peaceful except her eyes. They stared up at the sky above, as if they’d just seen a monster. I couldn’t really comprehend what I was seeing. My feet turned to stone again, and I realised I couldn’t move. My head spun. Nothing made sense.
Adam took a step back, right into me, and stopped. His eyes were wide as they stared ahead. My knees wouldn’t move. I couldn’t process anything. It was like I was watching a TV show or like it was happening to somebody else.
Donald closed the eyelids of the woman like curtains. I still saw her piercing stare, beaming upwards, etched in my mind. Donald’s chin trembled as he rubbed his hands against his cheeks and stared down at the bag. He didn’t seem affected by the smell. I saw ants scuttle up the side of the bag, ready to pick at her flesh for their new nest.
We needed to go. We were seeing something that wasn’t for us to see.
The smell slithered up my nostrils again as the wind carried it in my direction. I escaped with a little cough. Donald moved the body towards the hole, which covered up the noise I’d made. My stomach felt like it was filled with wriggling worms. I needed to go to the toilet. I needed to get out of here.
Donald pulled the bag to the end of the hole he had dug and put his foot on her side. He reached down, muttered something, and zipped the bag again, covering her face. With a struggle, he kicked her into her grave. She was gone. It was her funeral, and we were the only witnesses.
Adam jolted to his feet and grasped my arm. I had no choice but to sprint. I saw Donald look up, his wide eyes turning in every direction, trying to see what lurked in the distance, trying to find something to focus on. A target. Now was the time to get out of his crosshairs.
My legs moved, and I started to run. My knees were stiff but they seemed to be moving quickly. Any direction would do, as long as it was downhill. I took huge strides, jumping down the side, praying for the path. Twigs snapped under my feet. The sharp branches of trees scratched at my face. Somewhere behind us, I heard movement. It was probably Donald, but I wasn’t taking any time to look. We were in too deep, again, and we needed to get away.
I was so focused on my running that I’d hardly taken any time to check on Adam. He had the same idea, and we moved in sync as we pelted down the hill towards the path, wherever it may be. I looked to my right, to where Adam was, and was surprised myself to find myself keeping up with him. Adrenaline kicked in. The forest stared down on us, closing in, trying to gobble us up. The trees were the arms, the stumps on the floor its traps. Somewhere behind us, Donald followed, probably ready to kill us. Ready to put us in a black body bag, our eyes piercing holes in the sky above us. Ready to dig a grave and kick us in.
We hit the path. I wasn’t sure where exactly we were, but we had already been running for a while. I didn’t care; I let my legs take me. We bolted back to the entrance of the forest. I couldn’t stop thinking about what we had seen, and I hoped we didn’t run into anyone on the way out. I’m dreaming, surely? A sickly taste rose in the back of my mouth.
The laughs of old people and smell of barbecued sausages assured me that we were close to the entrance of the woods again. We had seen what lived in the belly of the woods, and now it was ready to spit us out again.
A squirrel looked on as Adam and I tore out of the woods to safety.
Chapter Eight
We sat outside on the steps of the caravan. Neither of us had moved since we got back about an hour ago. Adam kept looking up whenever a noise sparked in the distance. I picked up the little stones at my side and tossed them towards the football.
‘Do we tell them, Liam?’ Adam asked.
We also hadn’t spoken much since we’d got back. I couldn’t find the words. Adam’s question echoed what I’d been thinking for the last hour or so.
I gulped at the blockage in my throat. ‘I… I don’t know. I mean we should, but—’
‘Maybe if we ask Donald?’ Adam asked, his eyes meeting mine before turning back to the ground. It was an option, but right now, I didn’t want to be anywhere near the guy.
‘I don’t know. Did he see us?’ I asked.
Adam’s eyes wandered as he stared up at the blue sky, still not a cloud in sight. ‘No. I mean, I don’t know. It was too hard to tell. It all went so fast.’
I sighed. ‘I don’t know, Adam. I mean if he didn’t see us, maybe we can pretend it never happened.’
‘What did happen, Liam?’
The thought shot around my head. A thousand questions. I couldn’t make sense of any of it.
I stood up when Gran called for us, and we went inside, the two of us sharing a smile as I let him lead the way.
We didn’t speak much at all that afternoon. At dinnertime, Adam and I sat silent at the table like ghosts. Gran and Granddad kept going into the kitchen and whispering. I knew they were probably talking about us.
Granddad turned to us whilst digging into his chips and cleared his throat. ‘You erm… you’re alright aren’t you, lads?’
I swung round. ‘Yes. Don’t worry. We’re fine.’ I forced a smile and pretended to scratch at something on my hand, looking away from Granddad. He opened his mouth to speak again but sighed instead and turned back to the telly. Gran paced around the kitchen, shooting glances in our direction and turning away the second I eyed her back.
I felt a sharp pain hit my leg. I looked up at Adam, who frowned.
‘Could have made it a bit less obvious,’ he whispered.
I shrugged back at him. ‘Alright, see how you—’
I realised I was shouting. Adam looked behind me at where Gran stood and edged back in his seat, turning back down to the table in front of him.
‘Everything alright, boys?’ Gran asked.
Adam and I looked at each other. Adam made the move.
‘Yeah, just talking about den stuff. Liam wants a different sort of chair. I reckon it’s fine as it is.’
I curled my eyebrows up and Adam shrugged back at me. ‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘I dunno. It should be alright for now though, I guess…’
Gran looked at the two of us as she dried a pot in her hand, shook her head, and muttered something under her breath.
‘Oh, Liam… your, erm, your dad called earlier,’ Granddad said.
The mention of Dad caught my ear and snapped me out of my trance. ‘Oh. Right.’
Granddad scratched his nose and shuffled his magazine about. ‘Yeah. He asked about you. I him told you were doing good. Den building.’ He smiled and twitched his eyebrows.
I didn’t really know what to say.
We went to bed early again that night. The crackling of rain against the roof woke me as it often did. It was still dark in the room, which meant that it was still night time. I couldn’t hear Granddad clattering around, so it must be sometime after midnight and before morning. I looked over at Adam, who lay still. It wasn’t clear if he was actually asleep or not.
I turned back towards the ceiling. I could see something small and black moving around, creeping about. Probably a spider. I didn’t mind spiders, but if Adam saw it, he’d go crazy.
I thought about what Granddad had said about my dad. It was the only thing that had taken my mind off what we’d seen since it had happened. I wondered what my dad and my mum were doing at this exact moment. Mum used to come and tuck me in and leave me some sweets when I was
younger, which I promised I wouldn’t eat until morning. In the past few months though, they just shouted and fought. I’d wrap my pillow round my head and try not to listen. Try not to think.
I tried not to think now, too, but whatever I did, my thoughts kept returning to Donald. The girl. Dead. Her body like a wet stone, the sweat from her struggle now cold as ice as it gathered at the bottom of the body bag. I still saw her eyes staring up towards her fate.
I knew we should go to the police, but they’d find her soon enough. We’d just get ourselves involved if we went to them. There would be interviews and afternoons off school, and… no. It wasn’t worth it. We were safe for now.
Unless Donald saw us, that was. I clenched my eyes together and tried to picture the scene at the exact moment Adam had pulled me away. Sometimes, I saw Donald’s bloodshot eyes meet mine for a moment. Other times they didn’t. I wasn’t sure what was true. I felt sick and shaky.
The spider crawled into the corner of the ceiling, in its own little upside-down world.
The main thing that scared me wasn’t her eyes. The eyes were scary, but the thing that scared me most was that someone Adam and I had put all our trust in, all our faith, was the very source of this mystery. It was typical. If it was anyone other than Donald, we’d ask Donald for help, and he’d help us. Work out the potential motives. Let us sit in his garden. But now Donald scared me. He scared Adam too. I could tell from the way he slumped when we spoke about him.
There was something unusual in Donald’s eyes. Something… new. I’d seen it when Carla went missing. Red. Distant. As if his mind were somewhere else. Something had changed inside Donald, and we didn’t know what yet. I saw those red eyes again, staring at us as we ran. Had he seen us? Each time the scene played out in my mind, it turned out a different way.
The rain pattered against the roof of the caravan as I drifted into a restless sleep.
Chapter Nine
I woke up with a weight deep in my tummy. I wanted to get out of bed and throw up. The sickness gnawed at my stomach. Even the thought of Coco Pops made my stomach turn. I tried to divert my thoughts but different images shot into my head. The embrace between Granddad and Donald. Warm and tight, but strange.
Granddad had already left again to search for Carla when we got up. He’d go deep into the woods, much further than my cousin and I would now dare. Granddad seemed immune to the horrors of what lurked inside that place. I wondered if Adam or I would be quite so confident one day. But then again, I wondered if Granddad had ever seen someone he trusted burying a body before.
Emily visited early again, much to our disappointment. We were still shell-shocked from the events of yesterday.
Adam rolled his eyes as she arrived at the door. I wanted to get outside. Being in the same place for too long made me cagey.
‘Do we have to deal with her?’ Adam asked.
I put my hand on his shoulder. ‘Hey, she’s our friend, cuz. We need to remember that.’
Adam pulled away and walked towards the door. ‘Well, you can be the one to tell her,’ he said, as he turned the handle and greeted her with a cold stare.
We hung around outside. The sky looked even greyer today.
‘Good day yesterday?’ Emily asked, smiling and desperate for conversation.
Adam grunted as he slouched his head into his hands.
I intervened. ‘Yeah… yeah we’ve been alright, Emily. You?’
Emily looked at me, then turned to Adam. ‘Is he alright?’ she mouthed, as he rolled his head in his palms.
I nodded fast, dismissing Emily’s concern.
‘Well… I’ve been okay, thanks. Went into the village with my parents. Saw some old friends. They’ve got a really awesome trampoline. You should both come along some time. Would you be up for that, Adam?’
Adam grunted again. ‘Whatever.’
‘I’m starting to think you’ve gone off me, Adam,’ she said, sucking her fringe like a lolly.
Adam shrugged. His nose twitched at the sides.
‘We’ve been tired, Emily,’ I said. ‘Real tired.’
Emily stood up and kicked the football towards the hand-built wall at the back of the garden, robbing the ball of what little air it had left in its lungs. She curled her mouth to the side and let out a sigh. ‘I’ve been tired, too, but I still find time to come see you. I mean, you’ve not been to the den for days. I’m starting to think you’re fed up with me.’
The ball fell at Adam’s feet, and he smacked it towards the wall, where it bounced back and hit Emily on the leg.
‘Geez, what’s up with grumpy over here?’ she asked.
I tried to answer. ‘We, we’ve just had a tough few days, family things, you kno—’
‘Yeah, and seeing your ugly mug first thing every frigging morning doesn’t exactly help,’ Adam said.
Adam’s words stung me. My throat wanted to shout at him, but I held myself back. I didn’t like using family matters as an excuse, but I had the situation under control without him butting in. ‘Sorry Emily, he’s just…’
Emily’s eyes watered as she blinked her eyes and rubbed her arms. ‘No. It’s alright. I’ll go now.’ Her voice crackled, and she walked off, heavy-footed.
Adam perched against the wall, his arms folded. He gritted his teeth before spitting a green blob on the floor. It was a good job Gran hadn’t seen him because she’d go mad. Behind wearing his piercing, spitting was the one thing she hated the most.
I glanced up at Emily and noticed another bruise. On her arm again, but in a different place this time, like a tattoo wrapped around her wrist. It looked as if something had been wrapped around her, hard, which was strange, because it didn’t look like the sort of bruise you’d get if you’d fallen over. I remembered her dad grabbing her the other day, pulling her away from the den. Had he accidentally pulled a little hard or held too tight? Sometimes Granddad was too tight with his handshakes, so it was an easy enough mistake to make. Emily’s eyes met mine as she covered her left wrist with her right hand. She turned away and walked off down the road, back towards her caravan. I wanted to call for her or to walk after her and ask her if everything was okay, but I couldn’t.
Adam sat sour-faced against the wall.
‘Nice one, Ad, real nice one,’ I said.
He looked up at me as he perched against the wall. ‘We don’t need her right now. She’ll only slow us down. We’ve got to work out what to do about what we saw. About Donald and the body.’
‘Yeah, but—’
‘But nothing,’ Adam said, rising from the wall. ‘Just because you fancy her doesn’t mean you have to drag her into everything. She can’t know about this. She’ll only go crying to her mum or her soft dad.’
I remembered the way Emily’s dad clutched at her arm. He seemed anything but soft in that moment.
The two of us kicked the ball around for a while, unable to muster up the courage to go and see Donald, just in case he had seen us. It was bizarre that we hadn’t seen him walk past over the last few days. He often patrolled the caravan site and waved as he wandered along outside our front window.
But all had gone quiet. I thought about Donald and the way he was with Carla.
‘You don’t think that Donald has something to do with Carla’s disappearance, do you?’ The words splurged out of my mouth without much consideration.
Adam bit hard into his lip, the pink flyaway football bouncing towards the wall and onto a family of woodlice. ‘Why would he?’
‘It’s just… I dunno. With him burying… y’know. Maybe he’s done something to her.’
More of Adam’s lip gave way to his teeth, digging into his flesh. He curled his eyebrows inwards.
‘Adam, I really think we should say something to someone.’
Adam tutted. ‘We’ve been through this,’ he said. ‘We can’t. It’s not worth the bother. It might get us into more trouble. It’s our mystery.’
The last words made my stomach sink. It was still just ‘ou
r mystery’ to him. I wanted to solve this mystery too, but I understood the weight of the situation. I don’t know if Adam really did.
I was about to say something when Adam flicked his head in the direction of the caravan door behind me. I turned round to see Granddad stood on the steps, watching us kick the ball around.
‘I’ll be off for a walk at five-ish. Have another look for Carla, I think. You boys want to come along?’ he asked.
‘Sure, we’ll help,’ I said, smiling as Adam muttered something inaudible and booted the ball against the wall repeatedly. Going out to look for her at the time that she was used to eating her food was probably the most logical choice. If she was starving, she’d find her way back, my Gran said. I wasn’t sure whether she said this to try and keep us all smiling or whether she genuinely believed it. Although she did say once that she didn’t like rumours. Probably something to do with God.
I wasn’t sure I shared her optimism, and I’m not sure Granddad did either. But he kept on walking, every morning and every night, hoping to find her chewing a rabbit or running towards him with yet another golf ball in her mouth.
When Granddad headed back inside, Adam stopped booting the ball and turned back to face me. ‘We don’t mention things to anyone yet, cuz,’ he said. ‘Not Emily, not anyone.’
‘But—’
Adam interrupted. ‘No, bringing Emily in is unfair to her. It makes things more complicated.’
I shrugged my shoulders. ‘I guess you’re right,’ I said. I wasn’t sure whether Adam’s idea of ‘fair’ was the same as mine, though. I was more worried about how Emily would react to hearing what we’d seen than about things getting complicated or not. I decided not to ask Adam what he meant.
‘Course I’m right,’ Adam said. ‘It’s our mystery.’ He booted the ball into the hedge and flicked a smile in my direction.