by Tim Marquitz
Cautious, so they didn’t hear him, he backtracked and wheeled around the hill heading for the far side. Once he was far enough to feel comfortable, he sped up and made his way toward the bunker.
The sun was low in the sky. He knew he didn’t have long before the shadowy darkness of the tree canopy became the true darkness of night. He cursed the detour and made his way to the barbed wire fence.
He didn’t bother to look around. He hopped over the fence and charged headlong into the woods. The voices urged him on. He swatted branches from his path, heedless of the noise he made. The crunch of limbs beneath his feet reverberated out into the trees.
A short distance from the bunker, Jacob stopped. He heard the snap of a branch close by—it hadn’t come from him. He whirled around and peered into the trees.
A huge patch of darkness separated from the rest and barreled toward him.
Adrenaline sparked to life like napalm through his veins. Jacob whirled to run. He made it only two steps before something heavy fell upon him, slamming him breathless to the ground.
Before he could scream, his face was forced into the undergrowth. Soft earth and pine needles stole his voice. He struggled to break free but the force above him was like a mountain bearing down. His eyes filled with mud, he breathed in dirt. His lungs began to burn. Unable to draw air, he fought back harder, but it was no use. He couldn’t budge the leviathan that held him down. His energy waned and dots of light flickered in his muddied vision. Through the growing haze, he heard a gruff voice.
“Quit squirming and I’ll let you up.”
Jacob gave in for the lack of any other choice. After a moment, he felt the weight pulled off his back. His head popped up from the ground like a balloon freed from its string.
He gasped in hungry gulps of air and hacked up the mud that clung thick in his mouth. It crunched loudly between his teeth. Before he could fully recover, a rough hand grabbed his shirt and rolled him onto his back. He looked up through blurry eyes to see an axe dropping toward him.
He started to scream when he felt the blade settle against the crook of his neck. He swallowed his shout as he felt the sharpened edge of the axe cold against his skin. Eyes wide, he looked up at the axe wielder. Sweat glistened on the bald pate of the man who hovered above. His near black eyes were like turbulent seas. Sharp lines creased his weathered face, a Jack-o’-lantern grin on his lips.
Despite the mud that made soup of his vision, he knew immediately who had him.
Jenks.
Jacob’s heart rattled to stop. The freezing numbness of true fear washed over him like a waterfall.
“I figured you were too stupid to stay off my property and that I’d be seeing you again.” He increased the pressure on the blade just a tiny bit to emphasize his words. “Guess I was right.”
The old man laughed. The sound sent shivers through Jacob’s body. His voice cowered inside his throat. Jacob couldn’t find it in him to answer. He just laid there. Warm tears slowly sifted the mud from his eyes.
Jenks smiled wider. “Ain’t got nothing to say, boy?”
Jacob stayed quiet. He had seen the axe, which nestled his throat, in action.
“That’s probably a good thing for me, huh? I wouldn’t want anyone to hear you up here, screaming or anything.” He laughed again. “People might come looking for you. There’s no telling what they might find.”
Jenks’s words sank in. Jacob squirmed and the old man leaned into the axe a little. Jacob stopped instantly.
The smile dropped from Jenks’s face. He met Jacob’s terrified stare. Then he stood up, laughing so loudly it sounded like the peal of thunder. Jacob stayed rigid until Jenks reached down and pulled him to his feet by his shirtfront.
Jenks grabbed the back of Jacob’s neck, his meaty fingers snatching up a handful of skin. “It’s time for a reckoning, boy.” He settled the axe over his shoulder.
Jacob was dragged through the woods. The old man said nothing, only occasionally breaking out into a deep chuckle for no apparent reason.
Jacob’s heart pounded against his ribs.
They were headed toward the bunker.
His breath caught in his throat and he felt himself starting to hyperventilate. The edges of his vision began to shimmer black.
Jenks looked over at him and smiled, shaking him a little. Jacob squirmed in hopes of slipping loose but Jenks tightened his grip.
The dead screamed inside his head. Katie and Terrance cried out in helpless defiance. When Jacob glanced at the axe on Jenks’s shoulder, the old man wiggled the handle. Flickers of the dying light reflected off the sharpened blade.
As they neared the foliage that hid the bunker from view, Jacob’s legs went weak. His knees buckled. The only thing that kept him upright was Jenks’s tight grip on his neck. The searing pain spurred him back into motion.
Jacob’s eyes scanned the trees. His gaze alighted on the place where the bunker was hidden. Right then, what little courage he had held in reserve gave out. He broke into sobs.
The old man just laughed and dragged him along. To Jacob’s surprise, they passed the bunker without even slowing.
They continued on through the woods. Sweat, tears, and snot made a mess of his face as Jacob dared a look at Jenks. The old man just smiled back, showing off a set of black-framed teeth.
His heart had started to beat again after passing the bunker, a sliver of relief taking hold, but then a sinking realization hit Jacob. Jenks’s victims hadn’t been killed in the bunker, they’d been murdered elsewhere. Only their skulls had made it to the hidden altar.
Once more Jacob began to panic, fighting to be free. But Jenks wasn’t having any of it. He shook Jacob like a rag doll. Sharp spikes of agony routed Jacob’s resistance. He was dragged along like a dog on a leash. Jacob gave in. The dead called out in welcome.
Then, without warning, they broke out into a clearing. Jenks’s old Chevy truck was parked under the loose canopy of trees. He pulled Jacob around to the driver’s side and tossed the axe in the bed of the truck. It was just out of Jacob’s reach.
The old man yanked the door open and shoved Jacob inside, sliding him across the cracked leather seat to the passenger side. Jenks was quick for his age and size. He hopped into the driver’s seat right after, and slammed the door.
He cranked the truck into life and grinned over at Jacob. The truck jerked forward and roared down the hill on the far side of the clearing. Though much less cluttered than the forest they’d just come through, the trees were laid out like a slalom course. There was no clear path down the hill.
“If you think you can make it, boy, go ahead and jump.” Jenks whipped the wheel to the right to avoid colliding with a thick pine, yanking the wheel back fast to straighten out the truck. “You might get away without breaking your neck.” He chuckled. “But I doubt it.”
Jacob held onto the dashboard for dear life while the old man cackled even louder. The truck shuddered and creaked as it raced downhill. Jacob glanced at the speedometer and saw the needle pegging forty. His heart was doing a hundred times that.
Jacob tightened his grip on the dashboard. He wondered if this was how Katie had felt, knowing there was no happy ending waiting at the end of the ride.
He looked out the window as the forest whipped past. He seriously considered jumping. His hand was on the door handle before he’d consciously made a decision. Death by axe or a tumble from the truck? Did it matter?
Just as his hand began to tug on the latch, the truck bounced out of the woods and rumbled onto flat ground. Jacob’s wide eyes stared. The black asphalt of the highway was visible just a little ways ahead. He saw the traffic flitting by in front of him and the road grew closer with every thunderous heartbeat.
Jacob turned to stare at Jenks as the old man kept his eyes locked forward. He grinned and accelerat
ed. Jenks steered the truck up the short incline and onto the highway. A jarring crash shook the truck and Jacob’s head thumped against the roof. The crunch of grass under the wheels turned into the whir of asphalt.
The wild ride turned tame. Jacob sat silent in the passenger seat as Jenks aimed the truck toward town. Then the truck rolled into the Downs, weaving its way through the town. After a while, the old man pulled the truck to a stop in a cramped, dirt parking lot.
Jacob’s eyes found the lighted sign that hung above the door to the small building in front of him.
The Chrome Horse.
Jacob sunk into the seat. His terror was replaced by a burgeoning sickness that welled up in his stomach.
Jenks slide out his door and waved at Jacob to get out. He smiled when Jacob sprang to life and yanked on the door handle. Nothing happened.
He was locked in.
“You’re going to have to get out on this side. That door don’t work.” Jenks laughed, his barrel chest huffing with the effort. He waved Jacob on.
Reluctant, Jacob slid across the seat and dropped down beside the old man. Jenks renewed his hold on his neck and dragged him into the bar.
The tinny wails of seventies rock blasted Jacob’s ears as the door was opened. The thick scent of cigarette smoke and stale beer and sweat wafted out to greet them. Colorful lights flashed in seizure-inducing patterns. A bevy of different liquors were advertised in their shimmering glow.
The murmur of loud voices that had competed with the sound system just a moment before went quiet as Jacob was marched in. Every eye in the place shifted to them.
Jenks ignored them all and went straight to the bar. He pressed Jacob against its faux leather edge. Ann Rile stood on the other side. Surprise and annoyance swirled together into an uncomfortable look on her face.
“This your kid?” Jenks asked. It was obvious to everyone in the bar the old man already knew the answer.
Ann sighed and put her hands on her hips. “He ain’t mine. He’s my husband’s. What did he do now?” Her words were muddy.
Jenks pushed Jacob roughly onto a stool. “He—”
“Hey,” a rough voice called out from near the pool tables. “Get your hands off my boy.”
Jacob and Jenks turned at the same time. His dad set his pool stick down and walked menacingly toward the bar. Jacob’s head sunk as the Jenks squared off, an amused grin on his face.
“Your boy was on my property doing who knows what.”
“Don’t you be pushing him around,” his dad’s voice was thick, the words formed slowly.
Jacob sighed as he saw his father clench his fists. He was annoyed he’d chosen this particular moment to pretend he gave a shit. “It’s all right—” he tried.
“Shut up,” his father snapped. He gave Jacob a vicious glare before turning his attention back to Jenks. He poked the bigger man in the chest. “If you’re looking for trouble, you found it.”
Jenks grinned and batted his father’s hand away. That was all it took. His dad reeled back and swung. Jenks sidestepped the telegraphed blow without a problem. He put his shoulder into his dad’s chest and the two flew across the room to crash onto a nearby table.
Glasses and pitchers leapt into the air. Beer exploded over them like a golden volcano. The patrons at the table were scattered as though they were bowling pins. His father on the bottom, Jenks pressed his weight down and gave him two short punches to the face.
It took the drunken crowd around them a few seconds to register what was even going on before they jumped in to separate them. Jacob scurried to the side of the bar as bystanders rained down blows on the back of Jenks. It took five men to finally pull them apart. But as they were separated, Jenks landed another clean shot.
His dad’s nose exploded. He curled up as a fountain of crimson squirted from between his grasping fingers. The patrons struggled with Jenks once he was on his feet. One of them was tossed across the bar for his efforts. He landed at Ann’s feet with a groan. She shrieked like she’d seen a mouse.
Right then, the music went silent and a deep voice shouted for order. “That’s enough, folks.” Sheriff Tate stood near the jukebox, shaking his head.
The men holding Jenks eased up and the old man shoved them away. He laughed at them as they slunk back to the bar. Tate waggled a finger at Jenks as he approached the scattering combatants.
Jacob’s dad got to his feet. His mouth and chin were streaming red, his mustache stringy with his blood. He leapt at Jenks. Tate caught him by his collar mid-leap and spun him about, easily tossing him back onto the floor. He landed with a huff. His pride was wounded more than his body.
“Stay down, Rile. You try that again and you’re gonna spend the night in County, you hear?”
His father glared up at Tate, but he stayed where he lay. The sheriff turned to the patrons.
“Who started this?”
Fingers pointed en masse toward Jenks. The sheriff sighed as if he hoped the answer would have been something else.
Jenks grinned at Tate, his own finger pointing at Jacob. “I just brought their boy back, who I caught sneaking around on my property for the second time this week.” He turned his smile toward Jacob’s dad. “I guess I know where he gets his stubbornness from.”
His father started to get up. Tate waved him down. “That’s enough from both of you.” He looked to Jenks. “Get in your truck and head on home before I find a reason to lock you up.”
Jenks showed his teeth. “You tried that before, Arnold, or don’t you remember? It didn’t work out the way you wanted it to, now did it?”
Tate growled. His hand slipped to his service revolver. “Go home, Waylon, before you push your luck too far.”
Jenks straightened his overalls and saluted the officer with precision sarcasm. Without another word, the smile still plastered across his face, he made for the door. He chuckled as he cast a glance at Jacob’s dad. He then looked to Jacob, giving him a quick wink on his way out.
After Jenks was gone, the sheriff pulled his father up from the floor. “I suggest you find someone sober to drive you home. You’re done for tonight.”
“But I didn’t start the—”
The sheriff waved him off. “I said you’re done. Now go home or you’ll be sleeping it off in a cell. Do you understand me, Rile?”
His father spit a mouthful of blood onto the floor. He glared at the sheriff with murder in his eyes. When the big man didn’t back down, his dad broke.
“Someone give me a ride,” he said to no one in particular. After a quiet moment, he got a fetid response. He tossed the truck keys at his wife before heading for the door. “Come on, boy,” he yelled over his shoulder to Jacob.
Sheriff Tate called out to him, “I’ll be by to check on the boy later, so don’t do anything stupid, Rile.”
His father turned to glare at the sheriff. Once again on the losing end of the stare down, he stormed out of the bar. Jacob went out behind him. He glanced at the sheriff and shook his head. Tate gave a sorry smile as he went out the door.
The ride home was uncomfortable. Crouched in the open bed of a pickup truck, while his father rode up front, Jacob knew things would get even worse when he got back to the trailer, despite the sheriff’s warning.
But when he thought about what could have happened, he was just glad to be going home at all.
Chapter Nineteen
Jacob pulled himself out of bed around eleven. His shoulders and back screamed at him. He was reminded of his long night by the numerous aches and pains throughout his body. He fought the temptation to go back to sleep. If he didn’t get up now, he wouldn’t have time to do the rest of the work his father had lined up for him.
After the sheriff’s warning, Jacob’s father had found more creative ways to punish him than with a beating. Jacob spent the res
t of the night before on his hands and knees, scrubbing the bathroom sink, shower, and toilet—with a toothbrush. The kitchen sink and floor followed.
It was after six am by the time he crawled into bed. A long list of additional chores waited for him when he awoke. He was also grounded until his father said differently.
Jacob sighed. That could be a very long time indeed.
In the bathroom, the bright white of the toilet reflected the light of the room. He groaned when he realized he wouldn’t be able to visit the skulls.
But his dad was gone more often than he was around. That was a good thing. Then again, with Old Man Jenks out patrolling his property and the sheriff up in arms, there was a good chance of him getting busted again if he sneaked off to visit the bunker.
No matter how he looked at it, it was over. There was no telling what his dad might do, let alone how Jenks would react if he caught Jacob on his land again.
Jacob had been lucky, for whatever reason, that Jenks hadn’t dumped him in the woods without his head. The old man probably thought someone had known where he was and expected him back. Jacob figured that was the only reason he was still alive.
Now that Jenks had seen how little his dad cared about him, he wouldn’t have any problem making Jacob disappear for good. After the scene in the bar, there wouldn’t be much interest if a story surfaced claiming Jacob had run away. It wouldn’t be much of a surprise to anyone.
Jacob would end up like all the other victims of Jenks’s axe, his head adorning its own private niche in the bunker.
That thought spurred him on. He went about his chores, trying to ignore the cavalcade of pain that traveled the length of his body, and the whirlwind of images that nagged at his mind.
He was still hard at work when his father came home. His dad didn’t say a word. He stomped up into the trailer, only sparing a vicious glare as he passed him in the yard. His nose was swollen over his bushy mustache, and he breathed like a steam engine. His eyes were encircled in black. He had definitely gotten the worst of it.