Blood of the Forsaken

by David Horrocks

  There was something distinctly off about the building, but neither Aaron's mom nor his dad could sense it like he could. There were noises at night as he huddled under the relative safety of the covers of his bed, hiding from anything that might come for him. Running water could be heard where there was none and a constant tapping or maybe even a dripping sound that his parents seemed oblivious to. They just said that it was an older residence with its quirks and that he would settle in soon. The trouble is, he didn't. He never adjusted. Aaron knew that he wasn't the problem though, it was the house, or rather something within it. The old house never welcomed him and it certainly never became his home.

  Trapped within the freshly painted halls of the old house that twisted impossibly and glowed with an unnaturally greenish hue, Aaron knew that he was in the nightmares that infested his mind on a nightly basis, yet he still felt fear. It may have just been a distant memory, but it still felt real. He thought that it would have faded through the years, but the vivid images set before him had only intensified, becoming corrupted over time with new, more bizarre experiences.

  Aaron had no control over his surroundings and was doomed to relive the horrors of his past encounters with the supernatural. Once again, he found himself as he once was, nine years old and all alone, wandering through the mists of unfading memories, wearing pyjamas that he hadn't seen in years. Aaron had witnessed so many terrifying things throughout his life, but nothing quite so overwhelming as this. His first encounter with the paranormal. The close encounter that changed everything.

  Wet footprints led along the crooked floorboards, reaching out into the darkness of the hallway that stretched far into the unknown. Aaron felt a call, starting as a whisper that urged him to step forwards, his own bare feet treading in each puddle as if he were retracing his own steps. He was unable to resist, knowing full well that he had walked that path before and that he was doomed to walk it again. The water between his toes felt cold to the touch and chilled his skin like ice, sending a shiver through his body. He tried his best to ignore the sensation, keeping his attention focused on where the footsteps were leading him.

  In the distance, Aaron could make out the shape of a familiar doorway. It seemed normal enough, with the pale white of its painted surface seemingly untainted by the swampy, green air of the hall. The polished brass of the handle almost sparkled in the failing light, inviting him to turn it to enter into the room beyond. As he approached, the hallway around him faded from view until there was nothing else but him, the door and an ever expanding puddle of water that was protruding outwards from beneath the doorway itself. The sound of a running faucet could be heard clearly now, with its source originating from somewhere on the other side.

  Pausing for just a moment, Aaron could feel his heart trying to break free of his chest, his lungs inhaling and exhaling with force. He felt weak and clammy, and his legs wanted to give out underneath him, but still his hand reached for the door. His arm outstretched, Aaron could feel himself shaking as he began to turn the handle. He took one last giant breath before pulling the door open, a flickering light escaping from the room beyond.

  Before Aaron could react, a torrent of water burst through the doorway, knocking him off his feet as it swept him back down the hall from where he came. It engulfed him completely, dragging him back into the murky green and causing him to lose sight of the door. A raging river filled the corridor, leaving him dazed with no sense of direction and no source of air. The hallway soon disappeared from view again as walls were stripped away and he found himself surrounded by nothing but water, his immediate area illuminated by a dull green light.

  Aaron couldn't breathe. He desperately needed to, but it was impossible. There was nothing for his lungs to take in other than the icy cold water that numbed his body. He tried to swim but something stopped him. It was holding him there and refused to let him move. All he could do was thrash his arms and legs, but it didn't help. There was no surface or pockets of air. He tried to think, but his mind was racing a mile a minute, making rational thought impossible. Closing his eyes, Aaron attempted to calm himself, but it was no use. He was in a panic and the only way to stop it was to escape, but he knew that there was no hope of that. After all, he had gone through this nightmare a million times before and knew exactly what was coming next.

  Resigning to his fate, Aaron opened his eyes again and came face to face with a girl, approximately nine years old. Her brown eyes were wide, pupils dilated, as she stared directly into his. She silently screamed out for help, her wild, dark hair floating around her as she struggled in a similar manner to Aaron just a few moments before. He knew the girl, as he had seen her many times before. He knew how her story ended and it sickened him every single time.

  Aaron couldn't help the little girl, even though he wanted to. It was far too late for that. It had always been too late, which is why this was the worst of his nightmares. He was always the witness and never the saviour that he wanted to be more than anything. He watched as she gasped for breaths of air that would never come and as her body began to convulse. All he could do was watch as the life faded from her, as he was powerless to do anything else. All he could do was watch her die. In this particular tale Aaron was unable to play the part of the hero and he hated it. It had been his first true lesson in life. Not everyone could be saved.

  **********

  “I'm sorry!” Aaron yelled at the top of his voice, unaware of where he was.

  “What the fuck, man!” Came the surprised response as the truck swerved on the road for a split second before quickly recovering.

  Opening his eyes, Aaron could see the annoyed expression of his foul mouthed friend who he had startled with the sudden outburst. “Oh… Sorry, Tommy. I must have been dreaming...” Aaron said apologetically as he sat up straight in his chair, adjusting his seat belt with one hand and rubbing his neck with the other. He knew that he had been sleeping awkwardly as he felt sore all over and had been sweating profusely. The fabric of his t-shirt had been drenched and was stuck to his skin. The ache of his jaw signified that he had been grinding his teeth again and they really didn't have the funds right now for an emergency trip to the dentist.

  “Dude, you look terrible. Like you've seen a ghost or somethin’.” Tommy looked worried, but true to himself he soon swapped his look of worry for his usual goofy looking grin. “Then again, you always look crappy. That's why people say I'm the good lookin’ one.”

  Although he was still feeling somewhat disturbed by his dream, Aaron managed to flash a smile in return. “Whatever, Tommy. You're full of it.” With a loud sigh, he stretched his legs as much as possible. They had been on the road for hours and even the spacious interior of their pick-up truck felt cramped after a while. They had only stopped for gas, the occasional bathroom break and to change drivers despite Tommy’s protests, never spending enough time out of the truck to fully recover from the drive.

  Taking a moment to check out the scenery as it passed them by, Aaron saw that the open fields of Kansas had given way to rolling hills and woodlands. The truck rumbled along a paved, single lane road, passing a sign that signalled that they were nearing their destination. Birchwood, Kansas.

  Tommy used his left hand to roll up the sleeves of his red and black plaid shirt, keeping his other hand on the wheel to steer. “I don't think I'll ever get used to this freakin’ heat. Promise me we can go somewhere colder after this…”

  Tommy wasn't wrong. The nightmare wasn't the only reason that Aaron found himself sticking to the beaten, tan leather of his seat. The dashboard display showed that the temperature was in the high eighties and the humidity was nearly unbearable. The air conditioning in their old pickup truck hadn't worked in years, so they had cracked the windows open to compensate. However, the sticky, humid air wasn't helping to cool either of them down very much.

  Aaron shifted in his seat, sitting himself up straight and groaning a little from the aches and pains brought on from his nap. He took a mom
ent to stretch his arms out in front of him before leaning over to reach under his seat for his old, grey laptop which he pulled out with some care. Placing it on his lap, he flipped open the screen and turned it on. A beep sounded as the computer whirred to life.

  Tommy glanced over at the laptop, seemingly interested in what his friend was up to. “So you finally gonna tell me about the case?”

  Aaron gave a quick nod. “Sure, just a sec. It's booting up.” A minute later and he was entering his password on the login screen, unlocking access. He proceeded to open a number of different documents and his web browser, complete with multiple tabs that he had previously bookmarked. Local news reports, addresses and all sorts of compiled data that had taken a while to collect. He took a moment to organise the windows on the screen in order to make them all visible at once. “Right, what do you want to know?”

  Tommy almost groaned in response. “What do you think? Gimme the goddamn details!”

  Reading through the information, Aaron began to spout out anything that he found relevant. “Let’s see… Birchfield. Small town in Kansas. Young adult, one Samuel Mitchell, breaks in to his old family home and assaults the new occupants. He then escapes the scene and flees town after a violent confrontation with the local police.”

  Tommy raised a hand from the wheel and held it out towards his friend in exasperation. “Please tell me you didn't make me drive all this fucking way for some petty crime!”

  Aaron stayed focused on the laptop monitor. “Come on, give me some credit… We're not here to waste our time playing cops.”

  Tommy grunted. “Okay, so spill!”

  “It'd be faster without interruptions.” Aaron sighed in response.

  In complete silence, Tommy replied by pretending to zip his lips together, quickly followed by a thumbs up.

  “Right.” Aaron clicked on the browser, separating two tabs for an obituary and a news report before expanding them both to take up the majority of the screen. “Here we go… Samuel Mitchell was identified by an officer on the scene who was close friends with the family. He claims that 'the boy barely recognised him’. The interesting part is that Samuel has been dead for over a year.”

  Tommy chimed in. “Bloodsucker?”

  Aaron quickly shot down that theory. “No. Over a year and the grave had only been disturbed the same night. Open casket funeral during the day, so it couldn't have been a vampire. He was in the ground for far too long.”

  Tommy’s eyebrows raised questioningly. “Corpser?”

  Aaron examined the news article some more. “Nope… Zombies are brainless killing machines, not much for conversation. It seems that Mr Mitchell was talking up a storm. He may have been confused, but he was still somewhat coherent.”

  Tommy slammed both his hands down on top of the steering wheel, catching Aaron by surprise. “Shit, I don't know then!”

  Aaron rolled his eyes. “Relax. That's why we're here. We’ll find out what we're dealing with and then… deal with it. Maybe it’s a changeling or maybe even something new… Or maybe the guy was just a doppelganger.”

  “Right! Crazy ass lookalikes!” Tommy exclaimed, stepping on the gas and causing the truck to roar forwards at an accelerated rate. “The sooner we get there, the sooner we can get to the fun part!”

  Aaron didn't have time to respond and knew exactly what was coming next, as his friend turned on the stereo, twisted the volume control and started blasting out one of his favourite metalcore tracks. As if that wasn't enough, he wound down the windows further, stuck his head outside and yelled his usual obscenities as he jammed his foot down on the gas pedal. “Fuck you, monsters! Your balls are mine!”

  Powerless to stop his crazy companion, Aaron closed his laptop and slumped back in to the damp, sweaty leather of his seat as Tommy began singing along to his obnoxiously loud music, while simultaneously drumming on the wheel. With their luck, the cops would pull them over and take them in for questioning before they even had the chance to look around town. After all, why would a couple of guys from New Hampshire be out in the middle of nowhere? And why was there a crate of guns, knives and all manner of pointy objects locked away in their truck bed? The police would never understand or believe the real reason behind it. No-one would. It was just another typical day in the life of a hunter.

  Chapter Two: The empty grave.

  Walking shoulder to shoulder with Tommy, Aaron could see the yellow police tape that cordoned off the grave site as they meandered between the weathered stones of the graveyard. It was early evening, and the intense heat was finally starting to let up as the sun hid itself behind some thick cloud cover. The pair had stopped and booked a room at a motel in town, taking the time to shower and change out of their sweaty, travel clothes. A fresh t-shirt and clean pair of jeans later, and they were ready to get to work.

  As they got closer to the site, Aaron could see that some police officers were still nearby, but they seemed to be wrapping up for the day as they carried shovels and other such equipment back to their vehicles. A small excavator sat next to a pile of dirt, just on the other side of a large hole in the ground that must have previously been the grave of the supposed late Samuel Mitchell.

  Without a second thought, the pair of them ducked under the tape to peer over the edge of the hole in the open ground. Sure enough, an unearthed wooden coffin lay at its base, partially obstructed from view by a few handfuls of soil. The most unusual thing about the coffin was that the lid had somehow splintered outwards, as if someone or something had broken out from inside. The interior seemed to be full of soil as well, as it had likely filled the void left by Samuel Mitchell's missing body.

  Aaron turned to read the gravestone, confirming to himself that they were in the right location. “Samuel Isaac Mitchell. We found it.”

  “No shit…” Replied Tommy in his usual snarky tone.

  Aaron crouched down to take a closer look at the hole and sighed. “I wish we got here before they destroyed the place.”

  His friend moved next to him, leaning over his shoulder to peer inside too. “Yeah, man. I hate when th…”

  Tommy was cut short by a booming voice that spoke with harsh authority, causing them both to freeze on the spot. “What in God's green earth are you boys doing here? This is an active crime scene! I should have you both placed under arrest!”

  Tommy raised his hands slowly as if it was a robbery. He had been in jail on more than one occasion and always tensed up when dealing with law enforcement, quickly turning into a mute. It was for the best after all, as he had a habit of talking himself into trouble, not out of it.

  It was Aaron who was first to break the through the silence. “We’re sorry, officer. We didn't mean any harm.”

  The gruff, Southern accent of the policeman replied a little softer than before. “You boys aren't from around here. What brings you to town? Other than trespassing and interfering with official police business.”

  Aaron had to think fast. He hadn't prepared an excuse, so it was handy that he was a quick thinker. “We're Sam's cousins… His mom was worried?” He didn't mean to make the last part sound like a question, but he had panicked. Fortunately for him, the cops in Birchfield were used to folks being honest. It was a little different from the law enforcement back home.

  “Oh, well why didn't you say that before? You boys should have introduced yourselves from the get go. How're Simon and Olivia coping with the news?” The man sounded genuinely concerned.

  Aaron relaxed, slowly turning towards the cop while presenting his friendliest smile, whereas Tommy didn't move, his muscles still tense as if he had been turned to stone. It took a quick nudge from Aaron to snap him out of it, causing him to spin around to face the officer with a grimace plastered across his face. It was doubtful that he would add much to the conversation. At times like this, Tommy was completely useless.

  Aaron cleared his throat. “Fine! Well… as much as can be expected. They were talking about maybe coming back to town.” He was going
off what little information he had available. The Mitchell’s had changed their address to some place in Florida and now had a baby girl too. “But the new baby makes things difficult for them.”

  The officer examined the pair, checking them out over the top of the rims of his aviator sunglasses. He ran a finger along his moustache before smiling warmly. “I heard they had a little one. I couldn't be happier for them.” He took a big step forward, shaking each of their hands in turn with a firm grip and rough, calloused palms. Tommy’s handshake looked as uncomfortable and awkward as his stance. “Sergeant Bob Ellis. I'm in charge of the case.”

  “Aaron Mitchell.” Aaron gestured to his companion. “And this is Tommy.”

  There wasn't a single word, nor sound from the statuesque Tommy.

  “Not much of a talker, is he?” The Sergeant chuckled, eyeing Tommy up once more.

  “No, sir...” Tommy finally interjected, albeit with a weak and shaky voice. He couldn't even manage a fake smile and just looked out of place.

  Aaron came to his rescue. “This whole thing hit him hard. He's had trouble processing it all.”

  Sergeant Ellis nodded his acceptance, placing his hands on his hips. “Well gosh darn it… I understand. You boys in town for long?”

  Aaron nodded. “Just until we find out what happened with Sam.”

  The officer tipped his hat back, scratching his temple. “Might be waiting a little while. The investigation could take some time… It's a little on the unusual side.”

  Aaron decided to take a chance, using the cops pleasant demeanor as an opening. “Can we please meet the victims? We want to apologise for our cousins behaviour.”

  He tried to sound sincere, but could tell by the change in expression on Sergeant Ellis’ face that he had overstepped his bounds and caused instant suspicion. “I can't have you disturbing those nice folks any more than they already have been. There's already been too much of a ruckus about the whole thing, small town and all.”