*****
Across the county, Dee glanced at the waving branches around him and pulled his jacket closer to him. This place gave him the creeps. It had been Jacob’s idea, of course, and you couldn’t argue with him about something like this.
He twitched reflexively and rocked back and forth on his heels. It was cold, it was dark and he was tired. He wished again for a cigarette and reached in his jacket pocket out of habit.
But there was nothing there, and if Denise had her way, there would never be cigarettes for Dee again.
“Fuck,” he swore, and nervously watched as the wind blew through the trees again.
He didn’t like it, mostly because the way the branches blew out, it was as if some invisible giant was pushing them aside. It gave him the impression that things were happening all around him and he had no idea what.
“Fuckin-A, Jacob. Where the hell are you?”
As if on cue, he saw headlights appear around the curve on the side of the road. Why they had to come all the way out to Purcellville only God knew. Why they had to come out to the darkest, most isolated place in the goddamn county he was even less sure.
The cops here don’t care, Dee thought. They never have and they never will. Maybe they were dumb to it, or maybe they just didn’t give a damn. What did he care? Either way, there was no damn reason to come out here.
Dee watched as the car slowed down and pulled up next to his. He continued rocking back and forth on his heels.
Jacob practically threw open the door to his old Volkswagen Jetta and stepped out.
That was Jacob, Dee thought. Never does anything half way.
“What’s up, gee?”
It bugged Dee that some skinny white kid would throw around lingo like he was a brother or something, but he was used to it. His friends called Jacob a live wire and though Dee was confident he could kick Jacob’s ass, he also knew any victory would be short-lived. Jacob had friends and given who his father was, the temporary satisfaction of putting him down wouldn’t be worth it.
“Not much,” Dee replied.
Jacob came around the car and pulled a pack of cigarettes out. He held one out.
“Want a smoke?” he asked.
“Shit, man, you know I can’t,” Dee replied.
“Right, right,” Jacob replied. “That bitch Denise got you wound around her little finger, doesn’t she?”
“Don’t call her that, J,” Dee replied.
J is what Jacob liked to be called. Dee thought it sounded stupid, although he recognized the irony in that.
“Whoa, my brother,” Jacob said, and raised his hands in mock surrender. “No need to get angry.”
“I’m not your brother,” Dee said under his breath.
“What did you say?” Jacob asked, his tone shifting slightly to one more menacing.
But Dee was not afraid. Careful, but not scared.
“Nothing,” he said. “You got it, or not?”
“Well, well, why don’t we cut right to the chase?” Jacob said. “I might have it, but just one question. If she won’t let you smoke, how does she allow you to do this stuff?”
“That’s not your concern, man,” Dee said, and left it at that. He would meet Jacob on his terms, but he would be damned if he would let the little shit into his business.
“You aren’t sounding too friendly, Dee,” Jacob replied. “I can always take my wares someplace else.”
“We don’t need to go through this every time, J,” he said.
“Don’t treat me like your bitch, then,” Jacob said evenly. “If you keep on doing it, you could find yourself in trouble.”
“I meant nothing,” Dee said, but the words caught in his throat on the way out.
Jacob stared at him for a moment, apparently weighing whether or not to do anything.
“All right,” he said finally, and reached into his pocket.
It was then that Dee first heard the rumbling. It was low at first, a kind of rhythmic beating that he couldn't place.
Jacob glanced nervously about.
“You invite somebody?” he asked, glaring at Dee.
“Hell no,” he replied.
They both looked down the road near them. As far as either of them knew, there was never any reason to come out here. It wasn’t even a spot people picked as a make out place. It was too damned creepy.
The rumbling turned into a pounding and grew steadily louder, enough so that Dee could recognize it for what it was.
“Who the hell would be riding a horse at this hour?” he asked out loud.
Jacob shook his head.
It was then that Dee noticed the air had become completely still. A few minutes ago, it had been active, and now—everything was silent. He didn’t like it.
“The cops?” Dee asked.
“No fucking way, man,” Jacob said. “They don’t ride horses around here. Probably some rich dude out for a ride.”
Dee glanced at his watch.
“How many fucking rich dudes you know that go riding at 11:00?”
Jacob didn’t answer. The sound was now getting steadily louder—almost too loud, Dee thought. Should it echo like this?
“Let’s get out of here,” he said.
“Don’t be such a pussy,” Jacob said. “We’ll just let them pass by. If he stops, we’ll deal.”
But Dee, already nervous here, didn’t care about the jibe.
“You stay if you want to,” he said. “No weed is worth this.”
Dee turned to go to his car.
And then he saw it, tearing down the road in front of them. The sound seemed to come from all around them and Dee found it hard to take his eyes off him.
The horseman was riding incredibly fast, his black cape swinging out behind him.
“Holy shit,” Jacob said, but Dee didn’t look at him. He couldn’t look anywhere else.
The galloping grew louder and the wind that had vanished came back with a vengeance. Dee felt blown backward, as if it was moving ahead of the rider in a wave. The branches on the trees above him bent backward and he had trouble breathing.
“Shit, shit,” Jacob said.
For a second, Dee tore his eyes away to look at Jacob standing on the road. It appeared he could not move either. He just stood there, almost directly in the horseman's path.
Dee looked back at the rider. He had crossed the distance in remarkable time. Dee clenched his hands and felt sweat gathering on his forehead. He felt the urge to run but was rooted to the ground.
“Holy shit,” Jacob said.
Dee looked at Jacob to see what was the matter, but could see nothing.
Looking back at the rider, he knew.
The horseman coming at them—his cape billowing—had unsheathed a sword. And there was a second, much more urgent problem—the rider had no head.
Both boys started screaming then.
The Headless Horseman came full tilt at Jacob, never slowing or pausing. As Dee watched, the Horseman moved to his left side, letting his blade down on a perfect level for Jacob’s neck.
Dee wanted to scream or run, but could do nothing.
Instead, time seemed to slow down and he watched as the Horseman blew by them both, his sword clearly going through Jacob’s neck.
And then he was gone, riding off into the distance. Dee watched him go, still yelling at the top of his lungs.
When he looked at his friend, he wasn’t sure what he expected. But whatever it was, he was in for a shock.
Jacob stood there, in the center of the road—his head still firmly attached to his body—screaming.
Dee moved over to him and was immediately hit with a foul smell. Looking down, he could see that the other boy had wet himself, or maybe something worse.
“What was that?” Dee asked.
But Jacob didn’t respond, his lungs gasping for air and then screaming again. Dee looked for a sign of the blade, some cut or scratch.
But instead there was nothing.
&nbs
p; All around them, everything had returned to its former shape.
It seemed like the horseman had never been there at all.
Dee ran to his car and got moving. He didn’t care about Jacob. He just wanted to get very far away.
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