The Tear Collector

by Shawn Burgess

  We pass an area where another road cuts in to adjoin ours, this one more gradually sloping away to the top of the hole. Unused by the teenage crowd, the road’s overtaken by tall weeds and juvenile pine trees that jut up from the rocks, unnaturally reaching on a sideways slant towards the center of the hole, each jockeying for position, compensating for the less than optimal sunlight they receive.

  “Well, well, well. Looky who we got here. If ain’t ole Brooks and his band of losers.” The voice echoes out from behind the cover of the trees.

  As if rehearsed, we circle our perimeter, each strategically facing a possible point of attack, paintball rifles raised as a deterrent. The voice—we recognize—it’s Sammy Needles. But it’s unclear why he’s here. Sammy saunters out from behind the trees and onto the path in front of us. Devin takes a step forward and trains his paintball rifle on Sammy’s face.

  “What? You don’t wanna end up like last time, do ya?” Devin warns as he taps his paintball gun.

  “Got me a plan for that.” Bo comes charging from behind and after a brief struggle, locks Devin into a strangling, choke hold. As he coughs for air, his paintball rifle falls away from his hand and clanks to the gravel. Bo gives the paintball gun a swift kick, sending it flying over the ledge, a hushed whisper of wind rushing up against it as it falls. After a few agonizing moments, it hits the water with a tall splash, rippling the surface.

  “Let him go!” Robby yells as he trains his paintball rifle on Bo, his neck veins bulging and turning turquoise.

  “Don’t!” I scream at Robby, the desperate inflection in my voice a reminder of the precious ammo he’s thinking about discharging.

  I take a few steps toward Sammy. What am I doing? My feet drag me a few steps more. My heart twitches in my chest. Ya gotta. Only way to keep the plan intact. Sammy’s grin devolves into tumult, the seething underneath warping his facial expression.

  “What do you want, snitch bitch? You ain’t gettin’ out of this, no how,” Sammy growls as he leers at me.

  “Sammy, you don’t understand. It’s coming for us. All of us. You and Bo, too.” I let my paintball rifle slide away from my hands on its strap and take a couple of tentative steps forward with my hands raised. Tee’s eyes balloon, but it’s the only sensible move.

  “No, you don’t understand, motherfucker. You ain’t gettin’ out of this.” Sammy pulls a switchblade from his pocket and pops it open, the sharpened steel glinting sunlight.

  “Sammy, you don’t want to do this.” I begin to back away as my heart hammers in my chest.

  Sammy swoops in to separate me from the group, knife outstretched, working me to the ledge. I back up, taking tentative steps, eyes trading glances over my shoulder and back to Sammy.

  “Yeah, I do. I’m going to give your little bitch face a permanent smile. Carve you up like a pumpkin.”

  “Put it down!” Tee screams as he takes an aggressive step forward with his rifle raised, eyes gleaming like exploding stars.

  “You fuckin’ shoot me and I’ll gut this pig!” Sammy waves the knife.

  Sammy lurches forward, meandering back and forth to blunt any of my escape routes. His eyes burn, blood gushing through his engorged cheeks. I inch back toward the ledge, dwindling my comfortable distance with each retreating step. Once backed against the precipice and with no possible escape remaining, Sammy’s posture emulates a fencer, knife wielding arm outstretched and strategically waving, looking for the perfect cut as he closes the distance.

  “Don’t do it, Sammy.”

  “Shut the fuck up, Bo!” Sammy snaps his head around and delivers an icy glare. “Little shit’s gonna get what’s comin’.”

  “You gonna end up at Longfellow.” Bo’s eyes bloom wide. He begins to loosen his grip on Devin’s neck.

  “Stop being such a pussy, Bo.” This time Sammy never breaks eye contact with me. I raise my hands into the air.

  “Sammy, please. You don’t want to do—”

  “Stop tellin’ me what I want to do!” Sammy yells as he lunges at me with the knife outstretched.

  “NOOO!” Tee screams.

  I sidestep, the blade of the knife tearing through my shirt, slicing into the skin of my belly, loose rocks bounding the edge behind me, skirting the edges of the jagged cliff as they topple to the water. Spots of crimson begin to emerge on my white t-shirt. HE CUT ME! I contemplate jumping, but I’m not in the right spot. No way to clear the face of the cliff and the rocks below without momentum. I clasp my stinging belly. It’s a flesh wound, not too deep.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” Bo releases Devin from his vise grip.

  Devin collapses to his knees, holding his throat and tugging hard for air. Robby and Tee slink toward Sammy. He wheels around and brandishes his knife at them, warding off their advance.

  “Take another step and I’ll kill the fucker.”

  But Sammy’s twisted face divulges his intent, his nostrils flaring to the rhythm of his loud breathing. Hot blood inundates his face, turning it fire-engine red. His lips curl like a venomous snake baring its fangs. He’s going to kill me! The other boys, too.

  Sammy repositions his feet and makes another lunge at me. As I contort my body away from his blade, the gravel gives, and my footing slips. The world transforms into a spinning blur of blue above me. My rib cage smashes into the rocky earth with a thud, feet dangling from the cliff in mid-air, desperate hands clutching at the sliding rocky earth. I’m losing ground, sliding, until my hand locks onto an exposed tree root. Moaning in pain as I dangle, clinging for my life, Sammy looms above me, an intoxicated madness lurking in his eyes. But that’s not all I see.

  The rock wall behind him begins to fissure, separating in silence, rock moving on rock. Taking on substance as it eases away. At first a large irregular cone-shaped rock peels away from the rest of the steep rock face but doesn’t fall. It stays suspended, still connected. The other boys begin backing away. The moment its eyes open, the absoluteness of its camouflage becomes apparent. Uncloaked, the symmetry of the giant head becomes discernable, resembling that of a scaly wood lizard as it takes form.

  “What the fuck?” Bo stammers, lemur-eyed.

  Robby waves his arms frantically. “Sammy, watch out. Get outta there!” The creature separates from the wall, revealing the entirety of its body.

  My eyes glaze with terror to Sammy’s delight. Two parallel lines of short, curved horns peel back from its head, its lizard legs sloughing leathery skin, striated muscles rippling as it finds its equilibrium. It hoists a barbed, plated tail high above its body. Two extra appendages near its front legs unfurl into giant, gleaming-obsidian pincher claws.

  “Shut up! You ain’t gonna stop me.” Sammy crouches to slice my hand and send me falling to my death.

  “Sammy, don’t!” I shake my head with harvest-moon eyes as it approaches. “Look behind you. It’s coming.”

  “You’re dead bitc—” The creature’s tail coils around Sammy’s waist like a striking bullwhip and flings him like a rag doll into the same rock face it peeled away from moments before. Sammy hits the wall with a thud before crashing to the base. Before he can even move, the creature scurries upon him.

  Robby darts to me, grabs my arms and hoists me onto the road. We race to Tee, Devin, and Bo who stand statuesque, jaws dropped and owl-eyed. The creature closes one of its pincher claws around Sammy’s waist and hoists him into the air. For once, no words spew from his mouth, his lips bolted silent. Its barbed tail lifts and shimmies before rocketing forward, slicing through a spot between his shoulder blade and pectoral muscle, spraying a shower of hot crimson onto the rock face.

  “Jesus!” Bo screams, his body shaking uncontrollably.

  Sammy lets out a blood-curdling scream as the barb passes through him, tearing through flesh and bone. Still impaled by the barb, tears pour from his horror-hinged eyes as he screams in agony, casted arm draped on the barb. It cocks its head at a slight angle, and its tongue lolls out from its mouth. The slimy tongue s
lides up Sammy’s face before retreating into its mouth. It smacks its mouth a few times, the slivered pupils in its eyes tightening.

  “Help,” Sammy whimpers.

  “Shoot it!” Devin’s scream breaks the barren silence.

  “I can’t get a clean shot.” The paintball gun quivers in Tee’s hands.

  Robby fires off a shot that explodes on the rock ledge a foot to its left. Its head spins backward on its turret-like neck, identifying the threat, before its other clawed appendage clasps around Sammy’s neck and clamps shut, making a coarse crackling of bone. Sammy’s eyes go blank, and his heaving chest quiets, before his head wobbles and topples off the claw, a fountain of blood gushing from its absence. His head bounces twice on the gravel road and rolls a few feet before plummeting from the ledge. The creature retracts its barb, and Sammy’s limp body drops to the earth. Rivers of blood spew into the gravel from his stump neck, the torrent flow piling blood on blood, making it rise with the speed of flash flood waters around the rocks.

  As it wheels around to face us, Tee sizzles off a shot that grazes its face. It lets out a deafening roar and hoists its bloody barb into the air. I take aim and shoot, striking near its right eye. It lifts its forearm, rubbing its eye, trying to expel the fluid from the paintball, but it’s a clean hit and its body begins quivering, pulsing. It lets out another furious roar, and Tee fires his last shot at its open mouth, but the paintball splatters on the rock ledge behind it. Another miss.

  It scurries forward in an instant, moving similar to a crocodile on land, swiveling on its vertebrate—head and barbed tail whipping in opposite directions as its hinged legs propel it forward. It fastens a claw around Devin’s waist, snatching him from midstride of his retreat. I fall backward, firing my last shot, striking it in the belly. It changes direction in an instant, peeling to the rock face. It pauses for a split second, glaring at us, lets out an agitated hiss and ascends the steep rock face, carrying a screaming Devin in its claw. By the time Robby can take aim, it’s gone. Disappeared over the top of the ledge. Devin’s cries echo through the quarry as it speeds away, growing more distant by the millisecond.

  “Dev!”

  But after the reverberation from Robby’s scream, the quarry falls silent. Tee’s sobbing and I can’t stop muttering no to myself. Bo’s concussed eyes can’t seem to focus, set to an aimless drift. Robby collapses to his knees on the gravel road, tears streaming his cheeks.

  Chapter 57

  Never Leave Another Member Behind

  A TSUNAMI OF darkness washes into Robby’s eyes, inundating everything until his face crinkles like cracked porcelain, and all that remains is a froth of rage. He climbs to his feet, breaks into a sprint, and charges Bo. He delivers an adrenaline-charged shove to Bo’s chest that nearly topples him. Bo slides on the rocky terrain, his balance thrown off kilter, before regaining his footing.

  “YOU DID THIS!” Robby screams, hands clenched in fists, ready to dismantle the giant of a boy before him.

  “I’m sorry.” Bo’s eyes glisten, his hobbled words earnest in their delivery. He hangs his head. “I didn’t think Sammy would take it this far. I never meant for this to happen. Any of it. I swear.”

  “What did you think was going to happen? Huh?” Robby steps forward, sizing up Bo, stalking him like a lion.

  “Let it go.” I place a calming hand on Robby’s chest. His heart thumps under my fingertips, the veins in his neck pulsating and swelling hot blue.

  “You’re right, Robby. I’m sorry.” Bo strikes a conciliatory tone as his shoulders slump.

  “You think a sorry is going to cut it? You’re just like the rest of your no-good family.” Robby’s eyes bulge and blooms of deep crimson flower on his cheeks.

  His sharp words seem to slice to bone. Bo hangs his head.

  “You right, Robby. My kin ain’t no good.”

  “You’re damn right they ain’t!”

  “My daddy, my brother. I seen ‘em hurt so many people.” Bo’s head sinks deeper, and he slowly shakes it. “I ain’t wantin’ to be like ‘em.”

  “You’re turnin’ out just like ‘em.” Robby venom tips his words, his tone caustic. Bo’s posture wilts further.

  Tee locks eyes with Robby.

  “That’s enough, Robby.”

  “He got Dev killed, man!” Robby’s roar echoes through the quarry.

  “We don’t know that. Don’t say that.” I shake my head at Robby with heavy eyes. “Dev could still be alive. We could still hear him when that thing was taking him away.”

  “Yeah. You saw what it did to Sammy. Snapped him with that claw like it was nothing, man. It could’ve done the same to Dev if it wanted. But it didn’t.” Tee’s point injects a glimmer of hope in Robby’s eyes and leads me to an epiphany. There’s a pregnant pause before I break the silence.

  “It doesn’t want Dev. It wants us. Samantha Mellinger wants us. It could’ve taken Dev in Shiners’ Gorge but didn’t. Dev’s not from here, not related to the Davis family. Like us. It wants us. And it wants us to come to Grief Hollow like it told Robby. Like Margo said. That’s where it’s taking Dev.”

  Tee paces, shaking his head, his turbulent eyes adrift. He kicks up gravel dust with each step before coming to an abrupt stop.

  “So, what now? What do we do now? We’ve got one paintball left. It’s not enough, man. Not even close to enough. We got no chance. We could go to the cops, but they’d lock us all up.”

  “Never…leave…another…member…behind.” Robby’s eyes gleam wild and daring.

  “It’s a suicide mission, man!”

  “Markland X Crew protects its own.”

  “Oh shit, Brooks. You too? We’re gonna get killed, man! All of us! There’s gotta be another way.”

  “Ain’t no other way, Tee,” Robby says. “He’d do it for you.”

  Tee’s lips tuck into a slow frown as he hangs his shaking head.

  “I’ll help.” We turn our heads to Bo in unison, our lower jaws gone lax. “I know I ain’t Markland X Crew and all, but I feel bad for what I done. Lemme make amends.”

  Tee, Robby, and I exchange wary glances, studying each other’s body language. We wage silent arguments. Robby delivers a fervent headshake of no and clenches his fists. I present two palms, and Tee gives a head shake of I can’t believe we’re about to do this. With a decision reached, Robby slumps in acknowledgement.

  “It’s a bad idea,” Robby mutters to Tee and I before marching to Bo. “You better not screw us over, man.”

  Bo gives a solemn nod. “I won’t.” He spits on his palm and extends it for a shake. “Promise.”

  Robby’s face sours with mild revulsion. “Nah, man. I’m good. We’ll just keep it at your word.”

  Chapter 58

  And Grief Hollow Will Be Its Home

  IT’S AROUND LUNCHTIME when we reach the end of Parson Street, the mood of the group jittery and foreboding. We lost some time by taking a detour to Bo’s house, but we determined it advantageous after he offered. Bo carries a rifle that he filched from his father’s gun cabinet under his shirt, barrel protruding several inches past his basketball shorts—making his gait resemble that of a cripple. Tee’s pocket bulges with the box of ammo stashed there, and a metallic clanking sounds his steps. We lost even more time when Robby insisted that we inform Angela of the plan. No misconceptions about asking her to join us, but if we do meet our end, at least someone remains with knowledge of what happened to us. We managed to trek through town undetected, important because we’re on borrowed time—or at least we figure Devin’s clock nears its final stroke.

  Despite our misgivings about the mission we’re about to embark on, we enter the woods without delay. Wonder if I’ll ever see mom and dad again. Chances aren’t good. What will they say at my funeral? The normal things people say when young people die?

  He was taken far too soon.

  Heaven must’ve needed another angel.

  Probably. Things I’ve heard before. Things that fall flat o
f resonating with any real meaning. The things that people say to try to explain the unexplainable.

  Robby clutches the paintball rifle, clinging to our last hope, a solitary paintball—a perfect shot needed to deliver it. Despite his failed attempt at the quarry, Robby’s a decent marksman and without question the best of the bunch. If not selected for his marksmanship, we still surely would’ve selected him. If for nothing else, for his grit, his gumption, his resolute manner, and his willingness to cast aside insurmountable odds without giving it a second thought.

  We make the arduous trudge through the woods. My body still aches from my huge fall at the quarry, tentacles of pain knifing through the length of my rib cage, the sting of the slit on my stomach heating up with each step and corresponding abdominal flex that pulls at the perimeter of my fresh wound. The woods to Grief Hollow pass by in a blur, time hollowed out, the memory of present and past intertwined, a seamless weave—the difference between the two indecipherable. And before any of us realize it, we’ve come within a couple hundred yards of our destination.

  Robby raises a fist gesturing a stop, a subconscious adoption from the Silver Screen—a tactic swiped from every military movie we ever saw. Grief Hollow hides its proximity behind a thick curtain of summer foliage, but the bend in the trenched streambed tells us we’re close. The eerie silence of the woods, reminiscent of the day I ventured into Grief Hollow, tugs on my nerve endings. But a cry for help breaks the silence. Devin’s cry. Tee’s eyes bounce wide.