WARPED: A Menapace Collection of Short Horror, Thriller, and Suspense Fiction

by Menapace, Jeff

  “No,” Andy said. “We saw it on the map. We figured whoever did this to that little girl was probably from the village. Figured it best to steer clear.”

  The professor nodded. “Sound thinking—but I can assure you the people at the village are quite friendly. They’ve been very accommodating.”

  “Why are you staying there?” Tim asked.

  “As I mentioned, my friend is looking for someone nearby.”

  “How far is that village from here?”

  “About a mile down the road.”

  “You walked a mile? Out here? In the cold? At night?”

  The professor gave Tim an understanding smile. “My friend is an excellent tracker.”

  “He an Indian?” Andy blurted.

  The professor frowned. “If you choose to use that word for descriptive purposes then I suggest you place his tribe before it. He is Cree Indian.”

  Andy rolled his eyes. “Forgive me.”

  “Yes, well, I shouldn’t have to explain as to why you should show more respect, seeing as how you’ll be picking gravel out of your teeth for some time.”

  Now it was Andy who turned and began wandering away.

  Tim said, “I’m sorry if we seem a little worked up—but after all that’s happened to us tonight, I’m sure you can understand.”

  The professor nodded. “Of course. You say you have a wounded child with you?”

  “I don’t know about wounded, but she’s definitely not doing too well. Gotta be chilled to the bone at least. You have a phone on you?”

  “Not with me—it’s back at the village. In fact, I suggest you stop by—they can tend to the girl.”

  Andy reappeared. “We appreciate your input, but I suggest we say fuck the village, and keep on driving.”

  “Past the tree?” the professor asked.

  Andy turned a thumb towards Kane in the distance. “What about Tonto? Can’t he help us?”

  The professor’s look of disgust was all but a wad of spit in Andy’s face.

  Tim stepped in front of Andy and held an apologetic hand up to the professor. “Again, I’m sorry. It’s just…we wanna get home. We wanna get this girl some help.”

  The professor sighed, dropped his head and nodded. “I understand.” He lifted his head and faced the woods.

  Kane was gone.

  “Where’d he go?” Andy asked.

  Tim said, “Weren’t you watching him?”

  Andy threw up his hands.

  The professor cupped his hands over his mouth and called for Kane. His own voice echoed back to them, nothing else.

  “The hell did he go?” Andy said. He went to the car. “You girls see where that big guy went?”

  Both Rachel and Michelle shook their heads.

  Andy returned to Tim and the professor. “Dude just vanished.”

  “If I may suggest again…” The professor was facing Tim, but his condescension wore Andy’s name. “We take the child to the village. They seem decent people—a little behind the times, but good and wholesome nonetheless. They can tend to the child while you and your crew rest and regroup. I’m certain someone can help you remove the tree in the morning so you can be on your way.”

  “But that would be fixing the problem and not the cause,” Tim said.

  “I’m sorry?”

  “Well, we could go to the village. They could help the kid, give us cozy rooms, and make us a good old country breakfast in the morning, but that’s still not going to explain anything is it? It’s putting a band-aid over the fact that we found a child tied to a tree and left to die, and then someone did their best to sabotage our efforts to call for help or leave. You can’t just let that drop, professor.”

  “I’m not proposing you do.” The professor fanned an arm over their surroundings. “But as you can plainly see; it’s dark and cold and it will only get darker and colder.”

  “What about your friend the tracker?”

  The professor hesitated. Tim watched his eyes shift like a bad card player’s.

  Oh good, Tim thought, we need more mystery right about now.

  “He’ll be fine,” the professor eventually said. “He’ll return when he’s…satisfied.”

  Satisfied?

  “Okay,” Tim said, letting an intentional hint of skepticism into his voice. “Will he be returning to the village or…?”

  “Yes—the village. We’re both staying there.”

  “And then what?”

  The professor did not look at Tim when he said, “I guess I’ll have to wait and see.”

  More puzzles. And the pieces no less ambiguous. Tim sensed the professor a decent man, but he was hiding something. He was also…scared? No. Nervous? Maybe. Having an imposing guy like Kane sidling up to you would make Mike Tyson nervous. But there was something else, something more. Better still, Tim felt the professor knew Tim suspected more. And so Tim, sensing the professor on a back foot the man had neither planned nor expected, decided to nudge—just enough to get the man teetering back over the ledge before Tim would snag his belt and pull him forward to collapse into grateful arms, hopefully blathering the truth.

  “Alright,” Tim said. “You know where the village is, yes?”

  “Yes,” the professor said, still avoiding eye contact.

  He knows that I know.

  Except I don’t know what I know.

  But he doesn’t know that.

  Seconds from a colossal brain-fart, Tim shook it away, refocused, donned his still purposefully wary façade (it was hardly a difficult act), and then waved an arm toward his car as though it were the finest on the lot.

  “Well then hop on in, professor—we’ll give you a ride.”

  CHAPTER 10

  She watched from her window above. The car emptied. There were four plus the old man she had already met—and they did indeed have the offering with them.

  Although her status in the colony did not privilege a young lady such as herself to first-hand information of this importance, her personal quest superseded such an impudent act as eavesdropping. She therefore heard the earlier news carefully tucked away in a forgotten crawlspace. The clarity had been strong—as though she’d been sitting in on the meeting with the elders themselves.

  The offering had been freed. By four outsiders. Outsiders she viewed as hopefuls. She held little comfort in the promises brought by the Cree and the old man. She wanted to be gone—far away from here with her baby before it was too late.

  She rubbed her ample belly, due in less than two months’ time.

  Four hopefuls.

  CHAPTER 11

  The village was small. Five weathered but sturdy cottages in total, the largest of the five—a white stone building resembling a historic country inn—stood tall in the village center. Professor Jon led them towards it.

  “Little pigs, little pigs…” Andy announced after pushing open the heavy wooden door.

  Professor Jon looked at Tim. “Can you please control your friend?”

  Tim nodded but did nothing. Rachel held the child. Michelle stood at the end of the pack.

  “Hello!?” Andy yelled.

  This time the professor slapped Tim’s shoulder in protest for Andy’s behavior. Tim was startled by the stranger’s swipe, and his instinct was to retaliate, but unlike his friend, common sense was his leash and he simply said, “Andy, shut up. People are probably asleep.”

  Andy looked at his watch. “It’s only eight.”

  Tim took in the room. It reminded him of a place he and Michelle had visited in Pennsylvania—an old Amish bed and breakfast. The experience had been…an experience—pizza and DVDs and hot showers were happily re-embraced once they’d returned home.

  A woman, mid-40’s, came down the stairs and approached the group. She wore a beige blouse, buttoned high and tight to the neck, and a beige skirt that may have been an apron in its utilitarian modesty had it not been without a strap for the neck. The woman wore no makeup, long gray hair was pulled tight into a bun.
Her expression appeared even, not put out by their arrival.

  “Hi,” Tim said. “We’re having kind of a difficult night to say the least. Is there any chance you could accommodate us?”

  The woman’s response was curiously immediate. “Of course. How many of you are there?”

  Tim turned and looked at the little girl in Rachel’s arms, then back at the woman. “Uh, well before we get to that, you should probably take a look at her first.”

  The woman tilted her head past Tim to get a look at Rachel and the child.

  Tim went on: “We found her tied to a tree about a mile up the road. She can hardly speak. We think she’s been badly neglected and then basically left for dead. Obviously we want to get her some help.”

  The woman put a brief hand to her collared neck. “The poor child.” She took her eyes off the little girl and looked at the professor. “Hello again. Did you and your friend enjoy your walk?”

  Michelle stepped forward. “Um, excuse me? But who gives a shit if they enjoyed their walk? Are you going to get us some help for this little girl?”

  The woman dropped her head and drew a cross on her chest immediately following the word shit.

  Tim put a hand on Michelle’s shoulder and squeezed lightly. Same page, baby—but more flies with honey… the squeeze said.

  Michelle got it immediately and turned her attention to Rachel and the child.

  Tim waited for the woman to lift her head. “I’m sorry about that,” he said. “As I mentioned; it’s been a very difficult night for us.”

  The woman nodded, looked at Rachel and held out her arms. “If you give the child to me, I can have someone else show you to your rooms.”

  Rachel shielded the little girl from the woman’s outstretched arms with a turn of the shoulder. “If it’s all the same to you, I’d like to stay with her,” she said.

  Another woman came down the stairs, her attire the same as the other. The lack of lines in her face suggested she was younger by perhaps a decade; however her hair, also a tight bun, was just as gray.

  The older of the two women said, “I understand.” She turned to the younger woman. “Gwendolyn, can you show our guests to a room, please?”

  “Wait,” Michelle said. “What about a phone? Shouldn’t we call someone first?”

  The woman said, “We don’t have telephones in our colony.”

  Andy said, “Of course not.”

  Tim faced the professor. “That’s okay, the professor here has a cell.” He smiled and added: “Unless you were lying. You weren’t lying, were you, professor?”

  The professor had the shifty eyes of the bad card player again. “No…I wasn’t.”

  But you’re about to, aren’t ya?

  “But I’m afraid I don’t get a signal out here. I’ve tried several times.”

  “Hard luck,” Tim said.

  Andy said, “Go get it anyway. I’ll go back out and wander around until we get a signal.”

  “Good idea,” Tim said. “Professor?”

  Everyone’s eyes were on the professor, except Tim’s—his held a sly fix on the two women.

  “I suppose I could go get it,” Professor Jon said.

  And then Tim got what he was looking for, only it wasn’t exactly what he expected. Tim was waiting for an emotional response from the two women when Professor Jon would undoubtedly agree to retrieve his phone after being put on the spot. He got one, but they weren’t the fleeting expressions of concern or maybe even anger he was anticipating. What Tim saw instead was fear.

  The puzzle may be starting to come together a little, but the picture could still be anything.

  Tim looked at the two women. “Would you mind if we waited here for a moment? For the professor to return with his phone?”

  The older of the two women said, “Of course not. Gwendolyn and I will go and start preparing your room.”

  Tim thanked her, and the group watched the two women head back upstairs.

  Andy eventually turned to the professor and said, “Are you gonna go get your phone or what?”

  * * *

  The professor took his time climbing the stairs and heading back to his room. How the heck was he going to explain himself? Why didn’t he tell them out in the woods that he simply didn’t have a phone? It would have been a tough one to swallow (who the heck didn’t own a cell phone these days?), but it would have gone down a lot easier than claiming you did have one, but oops!—forgot to mention you couldn’t get a signal. How was he going to explain his phone flashing a full stack of bars?

  Should he pop the battery? No—Tim was a clever young man; he would check.

  Break it? Should he break his phone? Claim it had mysteriously cracked somehow? It was plausible. Perhaps he had placed the phone in his bag and carelessly tossed it to the floor. It could happen.

  Do you really want to break your phone over all this though? he thought. Kane is getting weird; the villagers, in their naiveté, even weirder. And the child…the poor thing could have pneumonia.

  The professor entered his room and headed towards one of two single beds. Oil lamps on each night stand gave a soft but sufficient yellow glow. He took a seat on his bed and began digging through his bag.

  Your book. Think about your book.

  He continued digging, tossing clothes onto the floor…

  But the child. Kane doesn’t care about the child. She’s bait for him, nothing more. Of course no Windigo would show and claim her, but who was to say something else wouldn’t? Least of all, and perhaps most assuredly, the elements?

  His phone wasn’t in his bag. The professor stood and searched the rest of the room, even Kane’s belongings. His phone was not there.

  * * *

  “My phone is gone,” the professor said the moment he returned.

  “Bullshit,” Andy said.

  The professor’s usual pallid complexion began to redden.

  He’s either lying or scared, Tim thought. Or both.

  “Please believe me,” the professor pleaded. “My phone is not in my room—it’s gone.”

  Rachel hoisted the child in her arms in a bid for more comfort. “Maybe—” She stopped, lowered her voice. “Maybe the people who took our phones…” She flicked her eyes towards the stairs.

  “So it was the people from this village,” Michelle said.

  “No,” the professor said. “It wasn’t them.” He took a deep breath and sighed. “Not exactly.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Tim said.

  Andy stepped forward and took hold of the professor’s elbow. “Fuck this—he’s lying.” Andy began leading the professor towards the stairs. “Your Cree buddy isn’t here to protect you now, professor. And I have no problem kicking the shit out of an old man.”

  Andy began dragging Professor Jon upstairs, the professor pleading along the way. Tim did not interject. The professor had seemed moments from confessing to something. And while ordinarily Tim favored a smooth approach in coaxing out a prospective truth from someone, right now his friend’s aggressive method seemed to be doing a sufficient job in expediting the process while simultaneously scaring the shit out of the old man. And a scared man is often a chatty man.

  So Tim did not interject. He instead headed towards the stairs and motioned for the girls to follow.

  * * *

  When Tim and the girls arrived, Andy was rifling through the room like a crazed detective looking for evidence. The professor sat on the edge of the bed, still visibly shaken, but resigned to the fact that he was going nowhere and that Andy was going to have his way.

  “Andy,” Tim said after a minute of his friend’s frantic searching. “Andy, stop.”

  Andy did not. He continued to search—drawers, shelves, under the bed. When Andy hoisted the professor to his feet and began patting him down, Tim physically intervened.

  “Okay, that’s enough.” Tim fronted his friend and put a hand on his shoulder. “That’s enough, man.”

  There was a kno
ck at the door. A sudden silence came over the room, like a secret party being investigated by mom and dad. Tim kicked some of the loose clothing to one side of the room. Michelle pushed in two open drawers.

  “Come in?” Tim said.

  The door opened. It was the older of the two women they’d previously met. If she had heard the commotion she did not show it. “Your room is ready,” she said, a glance around the room, and then at each of them. “Would you like to come with me?”

  “Actually,” Tim said, “we’re going to stay here and chat with Professor Jon for a few minutes first. That okay?”

  The woman stepped forward, handed Tim a heavy brass key. “Third room down the hall on your left. Bathroom is the last room on the right.” She looked at Rachel who had since wrapped her coat around the child and was now holding the little girl snug to the chest. The child clung silent to Rachel like a Koala to a tree, her expression back to vacant. “And the child?” the woman asked.

  “We’re going to keep her warm for now,” Tim said. “If we need anything, we’ll let you know.”

  The woman left without another word.

  Andy, his ire no less blazing, still had the common sense to speak in a loud whisper. “Where is it?” he asked Professor Jon.

  The professor threw up his hands. “Go ahead and search the room some more if it’ll make you happy. I’d like to find the bugger just as much as you would.”

  “Lying piece of—”

  “Andy, wait a minute,” Tim said. “Professor, you were about to say something downstairs. When Rachel and Michelle accused the people here of taking your phone and ours, you sounded pretty confident it wasn’t them. But then you were about to add something. What was it?”

  The professor glanced warily at Andy, then at Tim and said, “Will you promise to control your friend if I tell the truth?”

  “I can try,” Tim said.

  The professor swallowed hard. “Fine. The villagers did not take your phones. But they know who did.”

  “Who?” Andy said.

  The professor swallowed hard again.