by J. L. Hickey
“I can’t remember...anything,” said Vanessa.
“Save your strength,” said Lydia.
“We’re going to die out here,” said Aaron. “No one knows where we are. Haylee’s dead. Jesus, c’mon, she’s really dead?”
Vanessa sat up. Her entire body ached; both her legs cramped up. Muscles stiff, sore, like she was running a high fever. Dizzy, disoriented, she couldn’t make sense of much only that she was in the middle of the woods. She remembered chasing the suspect, then the red eyes. Her body heaved at the thought of the eyes. She spit out some blood. Finding her words were hard, she stammered, “Where are we? How did I get here?”
“She shot herself?” Aaron couldn’t take his eyes off Haylee’s body.
“Don’t look at her. Focus on me. I don’t want anyone else dying today,” Lydia pulled his face towards her. “Look into my eyes. Stay with me. I got you.”
“…Do you believe in god?” asked Aaron.
“Do you?” Lydia diverted the question.
“I used too…” he said.
“Well, we could use a miracle. You’d better start believing, and fast…”
FIFTY-THREE
“Glad to see you’re awake,” Pike pulled out a packet of Trident gum from his jacket. Popped one of the white squares into his mouth. “You were out for a while, kid.”
“I heard,” Aaron sat upright, pain shooting through his side. He winced. He muted the small white television that swung on the hospital bed’s large white arm. He hated hospitals. They always seemed to follow disastrous life-altering events. This time made no difference.
“Cartoons?” Pike motioned at the small television.
“After what I have been through?” replied Aaron. “I can’t stomach much else.”
“You got lucky, you know that?” asked Pike.
“Yeah? How’s that?” Aaron chuckled. “I don’t feel lucky, dude.”
“Clean shot, exited out the back shoulder,” Pike nodded, motioning towards the wound. “Lucky to be alive. You’re a survivor kid. Or maybe just stupid lucky, I dunno which.”
“Probably the latter,” Aaron half-smiled. It was not genuine.
“They told me you woke up early this morning,” he dropped a greasy brown bag over the top of Aaron’s lunch tray. “Bad Luck Lager House, the best burger in Emmett county, and fries. I know the food sucks in here. Eat up. You’re not on restrictions for a diet.”
“Fuck, yes,” Aaron ripped the bag open. A handful of fries were already in his mouth. “I ate fuckin’ oatmeal for breakfast and a shitty turkey sandwich for lunch. I’m starved for some real food.” He spoke with a mouthful of greasy fries.
“Glad I could make your stay here a little more homely,” Pike pulled up a chair and sat.
“They said I was out for a week, little longer,” Aaron washed the fries down with a large gulp of ice water.
“Yes, that sounds right.”
“You’re the first visitor, minus my parents. Of course. They just left about an hour ago. Nurses told me they had been here since I arrived, never left. Took turns sleeping on that shitty couch.” He pointed to the small faux leather hospital couch. I told them to go home and rest. They looked worse than me. I gotta stop almost getting myself almost killed before it kills them.”
“I spoke to them a few times,” Pike smiled at the jest. “Worried sick, you were touch and go for a bit. Lots of blood out there in the woods, a lot of it was yours.”
“Yeah?” Aaron bit into the juicy burger.
“That’s why I’m here,” he pulled out his yellow legal pad. “A lot happened out there. A lot of stuff I can’t make out head or tails. Strange stuff. Stuff…” Pike chose his words carefully, “stuff that just doesn’t add up.”
“Yeah?” Aaron replied again.
“A good man lost his life out there in those woods. His funeral was a few days back. I had to tell his wife and two kids their daddy was dead. He died in the line of duty, a hero; he was a good man. We didn’t always see eye to eye. But, shit, I respected him.”
“Jesus,” Aaron frowned. “I didn’t know that I’m sorry.”
“Two other victims, too. The woman you found in the basement, Jeanie Cunnings. When we set up the five-mile radius, another officer found a dead dog slaughtered in a back yard of a nearby home. One house east of where Dennis and Nora lived to be exact. Found a cannibalized corpse of an older woman, head missing as well. It’s all over the internet and news. Bastards are having a field day right now.”
“I don’t know what to say,” Aaron pushed away the burger.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to ruin your appetite,” Pike frowned. He sighed heavily, ran his fingers through his thinning grey hair. His beard was thicker now; he hadn’t shaved since the Simmons’ murder. His eyes still sunken, sleep still evaded him.
“It’s fine,” Aaron frowned. “I didn’t know about your friend or the woman. I am sorry for both.”
“We don’t know what happened to Officer Clent Moore. All we know Is he died from blunt force trauma to the head. No defense wounds. Baffles me how a decorated cop gets dropped like that without a fight.”
“I don’t think I can help you with that. I wasn’t there.”
“I know you weren’t. The only people at the scene of the murder were Officer Moore and Gary Thom. He was found dead at the scene near Clent’s body. Logistics found Clent’s bullets in his chest. Vanessa had given chase. We suspect she was there, but she has no recollection of the events that transpired. She’s a mess right now; something’s wrong with her head. She is getting help. She can barely remember what year it is, let alone what happened to Clent. She also wasn’t there at the scene. She was there with you folks when the dogs found you.”
“What do you need from me?” asked Aaron.
“Lydia won’t talk, lawyered up. Claims she saw nothing, knows even less.”
“She’s probably telling the truth.”
“We found Vanessa’s bullet in your shoulder. It matched her gun. She shot you.”
“She did?” Aaron attempted to sit up. He winced in pain again. It hurt him to move.
“We got photos of the wound on your forearm too. A perfect fit for her dental records, she bit you? You two scuffled in the woods? But why?”
“I don’t recall that, sir,” Aaron frowned. “I was shot, bleeding out. I don’t know who shot me. You’re telling me it was Vanessa. But I don’t know.”
Pike sighed heavily. Frustration setting in. “I’m not the bad guy here. I want to know what the hell happened out there. When the K-9 unit sniffed you guys out, it had been almost an hour. You were near death. Thank God Clent called in the copter, he saved your life. We airlifted you out of there. It’s a miracle you’re alive talking to me right now. Do you understand that? I need to know what the fuck happened.”
“Dude,” Aaron shook his head. “I’m telling you; I don’t know. If Vanessa shot me, it was an accident. The last thing I remember was Vanessa pushing Lydia away and trying to stop the bleeding. I passed out after that. I don’t remember, man.”
“We found black tar, or something, smeared all over the pine trees, on the snow, it was everywhere like blood splatter, but not blood. We’re running tests on it now, but we have no clue what it was. There were fragments of fresh bones, a pile of dead maggots, mounds of them in the snow near the bloody tar. No maggot I have ever seen before. When we tried transporting them for tests, the fuckers disintegrated into the same black tar. They ate through most of the bones. Just fragments left behind. We’re running tests on those too, but I’m guessing results will be inconclusive. What am I dealing with here? I need to know.”
“Okay,” Pike wallowed in the bitterness of failure that flooded over him. “I lost a friend out there. Maybe two, because Vanessa…” he struggled with the phrasing. “I don’t think she’ll ever get her mind back. You say she helped apply pressure to your wound. But when we found you, folks, she was in a mental breakdown. She could barely form a complete thought, let alone save your life.”
“Instinct, maybe? Look, detective. We all lost a lot out in those woods,” Aaron shook the detective’s hand. “I will pray for us to heal.”
“You do that,” Pike nodded. “Enjoy the burger.” He turned from Aaron, defeated, angered. He walked toward the door. He paused, turned to look at him one more time. “If you change your mind and want to be honest with me. I left my card on the table.”
“Thanks,” Aaron frowned. He didn’t want to lie to the detective. He saw the pain in his eyes. But he made a pact in the woods.
He would honor it.
“After they let you out of here, make sure to visit your friend,” Pike opened the heavy wooden door.
“Who?” asked Aaron.
“Haylee is down the hall,” He closed the door behind him.
FIFTY-FOUR
Gerald awoke. His body stiff, sore. He missed his bed back in Ohio. He had spent every night over the past two weeks sleeping next to his daughter, crammed on the small couch in her hospital room. He would not leave her side. He didn’t know much about what happened. Only what the doctors were able to share, which wasn’t a lot. Haylee had taken her firearm, stuck it into her mouth, and pulled the trigger.
What was a father to do?
He lost one daughter from a madman. Now, his second daughter laid in a comatose state in a hospital bed from a self-inflicted gunshot wound. He was a failure, a failure at everything in his life. His career, his marriage, both his daughters. He failed them all. He struggled, every night he wept, cried, wailed in the darkness of the sterile hospital room.
Haylee had few visitors. The bitch physic lady came in once. He wanted to curse her out, blame her for what happened. He fought back the urge to wrap his large hands over her throat and choke the life out of her. Instead, he said nothing. He left the room with a simple nod, waited for her to leave before reentering. She left behind some flowers and a strange stone. He decided not to touch them.
That was three days ago.
Today there was another knock on the door. Gerald opened it. Aaron stood before him with flowers.
“Hey,” Aaron shook Gerald’s hand with his good arm.
“Aaron,” Gerald returned the handshake.
“She still hasn’t shown any signs?”
“Nope,” Gerald frowned. “Still in a coma.”
“I brought her these,” Aaron handed the flowers to Gerald. “There, from the little store on the main level. I haven’t had a chance to get home yet. I just got discharged.”
“Tulips, her favorite,” Gerald took them, placed them near her bed. “I’ll see if I can find a vase. Get them water.”
“…You think?”
“—She will wake up? Gerald finished the question for him. “She has to. If she doesn’t, then what’s the point of going on?”
“Yeah,” Aaron couldn’t’ take his eyes off her. Her pale skin, her head wrapped in gauze, the machines that were monitoring her.
“The bullet went through the back of her skull. She has a long process to go if she ever wakes up. Reconstructive surgery to repair the physical damage. As for the mental damage? Time will tell. Doctors have hope. But the part of the brain that was damaged, there will be a lot of relearning how to live her life, verbal, motor skills. If she ever even wakes up.” Gerald sounded forced. His words shallow.
“Gerald,” Aaron hugged the towering man. “Please, call me if you need anything.”
“What’s in your hand?”
Aaron hadn’t noticed he’d been fiddling with the flash drive in his hand. He wasn’t sure he wanted to leave it with him. But he hadn’t much a choice in the matter.
“When she wakes up,” Aaron set the flash drive on the small table littered with Gerald’s things. “She wanted to read it. I finished it while I was recovering. I had my parents bring me my laptop.”
“I see,” Gerald frowned.
“I should get going,” Aaron shook his hand one more time. “Let me take you out in a few days? Grab some food? It looks like we’re both do for a good meal.”
“Yeah,” Gerald found a smile. “I’d like that. She’d like that.”
Both men looked over to Haylee. No words were spoken.
Sorrow filled the air.
FIFTY-FIVE
Pike had one last stop. He’d buried his friend; he’s seen another lose her mind. The only two people in the world that knew the truth hid it from him. Pike was tired. He didn’t understand the world anymore. What he thought he understood; all came crashing down in the woods behind Haylee’s old home. He felt like he lived in a house of cards, and he let a tornado into his life.
Life. He thought long and hard over that word for the last week.
Had he even lived? Did he do it, right? Was he happy with where the road led?
He wasn’t sure. But he chose where the road led him on this eerily warm winter morning.
A cozy-looking farmhouse. Blue window panes, white sidings. Two garden gnomes greeted him at the porch steps leading to the front door.
He knocked on the door.
His heart was pounding in his chest. His mouth went dry, and his nerves tore his guts up into submission. Pike was a hard man. He’d seen blood, guts, death. He’d handcuffed bad men, who had done bad things. Shot his gun with the intent to kill, been shot at with the same intentions. He hadn’t known pure gut-wrenching fear for a long time.
Today, that very moment, He’d never experienced more fear in his life. He’d also never felt more alive.
He thought of Haylee waiting for the door to open. She had done it wrong, in the heat of the moment, she put the barrel in her mouth then pulled the trigger. The bullet missed most of the brain, leaving her mostly dead. Pike knew the correct way, barrel to the temple, brains blown out the side. Grey matter blew sky high.
What waits behind the large red residential door, will cement his fate.
He heard rummaging behind the door. A faint voice broke the silence.
The door opened, and a man in his mid-thirties opened the door. He was well dressed, clean-shaven, soft sandy brown hair, a strong chin like his father. He looked shocked to see the disheveled and worn-down Detective standing on his porch.
“Son,” Pike choked on the word, it came out more of a squeak than a voice. Warm tears streamed down his cheeks.
“Dad?” the man replied.
“Who’s at the door?” A second man came to the threshold, his arm around his son’s waist lovingly.
“Can I come in? Pike asked.
“It’s been over ten years,” his son said flatly. “I don’t even know you.”
“This is your father?” the second man asked. “The Detective?”
“Maybe a drink? The three of us?” Pike rubbed the tears away, sniffling.
“I don’t think so. Please, never knock on this door again,” the man frowned, his eyes redden with tears himself. He closed the door.
Pike heard the lock click.
Pike’s head fell low. He tightened his jacket, turned, and walked back to his car, parked in front of the suburban home. He sat in the driver seat, swallowed the lump in his throat, t
ried to keep the tears from spilling, which he failed at, miserably. He grabbed his gun from the glove box. Felt the weight of it in his hand. He stared at it. He thought of Haylee, out in the woods. What caused her to do it? To swallow the bullet? Why had Vanessa shot Aaron? Why did Clent drop his guard? Nothing made sense.
No, he waved the thoughts away. The real question, the only one that mattered. What brought him to this end? Sitting out in front of his son’s suburban home, hated by the only family he had left, with a firearm in his hand.
Why was he the way he was? Why did he disown his son? Why was he a shit person?
Questions he would never get to answer.
He was no longer fit for this world; he hadn’t smiled in years. He’d lost his chance with his son. He knew what came next.
He was tired. So tired.
He lifted the gun, barrel to his temple.
“If only life had a reset button,” he mumbled. “I’m sorry I was a miserable fuck.”
He wrapped his finger tightly against the trigger. “Maybe I will see you wherever this takes me, Clent. I owe you an apology or two.”
It was time, time for a new beginning, or a simple end into an eternity of blackness. Both sounded better to Pike than waking up another day in this mad, mad world.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
J.L. Hickey is an author from Mid-Michigan who graduated from Saginaw Valley State University with a bachelor’s in creative writing. He loves horror and the supernatural. When he isn’t writing about creepy monsters, he is enjoying his life as a father of three crazy boys and time spent with his babe of a wife.
NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR
Word-of-mouth is crucial for any author to succeed. If you enjoyed It Was Born in the Darkness of the Wood, please leave a review online—anywhere you are able. Even if it’s just a sentence or two. It would make all the difference and would be very much appreciated.