by Nancy Gideon
Yes!
Not much farther now, he told himself with grim pleasure. And he began to run, breathing hard, hunching low like a hunting hound with a scent up its nose. He would have bayed with excitement if he'd had the lung power. Instead, he settled for a wolfish grin.
Come on, you bastard! What's keeping you?
He'd spoken too soon.
Behind him, only yards back, a huge dark shape lunged through the brush, forcing its way with the mindless indifference of a bulldozer.
Alex let out a hoarse cry and bunched his remaining energy into the muscles of his legs, sprinting wildly, with renewed strength, churning onward, lithely dodging branches and hopping roots.
And it came on, mowing down everything in its way in its eagerness to latch onto him with those gaping jaws.
Alex burst out into the clearing, falling hard over the tangle of his own feet. His outstretched hand furrowed into freshly turned earth as he found himself staring down into an empty grave.
There, he saw the sack he'd torn open. The bones were gone. He knew where they were. They'd taken on meat and sinew and flesh and fur. And the all of it was right at the edge of the circle, a massive compilation of death and drool and crisped dog hair.
He was going to die.
"Come on then," he shouted at the bristled demon. "Let's get to it."
He scrambled to his feet just in time to meet the creature's rush. It struck him in the chest like a subway train, driving the wind out of him, knocking him back to the ground with a dagger-tipped paw on either shoulder. He hit hard and lay still, waiting for the thing to go for his throat and mercifully end him.
For a moment, it simply glared down, buffeting his face with its fetid breath. Then with a low snarl, its lips peeled back from tremendous fangs, saliva pooling, dripping down on him in smelly spatters. And it dove down for him.
Anticipating the move, Alex was able to twist, greeting those wide jaws with his shoulder instead of his throat. Teeth penetrated skin, muscle, bone. Alex's ears were filled with his own screams as the beast shook him. His hands rose up in his own defense, gripping and bending one ragged ear, tangling in the charred pelt to twist and pull until the best yelped and released its hold. Alex struck it in the snout with his fist, gouged for its gleaming eyes with his thumbs, seized its corded windpipe with both hands to squeeze with all his might—and only managed to anger it more.
Then the ground trembled beneath him.
The devil dog felt it, too, for it stopped its attack, its head flying up, its nostrils flaring wide and red to pull in the breeze not salted with Alex's blood.
And the demon dog backed away, growling, whining anxiously, its prey forgotten.
With a thunderous roar, the tall creature advanced into the clearing, arms spread wide to embrace its enemy in immortal combat.Snarling, the devil dog enjoined the unholy battle, filling the clearing with unnatural sounds of brutal struggle.
As they wrestled and tore at one another, Alex rolled, scrambling to get his feet under him, fearing to be caught in the middle of the vicious fight. Before he could make good his escape, he was knocked from behind and sent sprawling to the ground as the battling gargantuans trampled over him. He heard the sound of a brittle snap, not realizing it was his own fibula until he tried to stand once more. Black waves of pain engulfed him, and for a time he was oblivious to all. Gradually, the scene ebbed back in gruesome focus, as the devil dog wrenched one of the tall creature's arms from him.
Horrified to think that the demon dog would triumph, Alex summoned the last of his strength to crawl to the edge of the disturbed graveside. His fingers closed around the abandoned cross, and gritting his teeth, he stood, weaving, fighting the swamping darkness to plunge its point with all his might into the snarling devil dog's shoulder.
Howling shrilly, the beast writhed and twisted toward him to pluck the spearing wood out with its teeth, presenting the maimed tall creature with the opportunity it needed to overcome its age-old nemesis.
Using its three remaining arms, the tall creature dug its talons into the demon's back, lifting it, throwing it down where it flopped frantically upon the ground. Then the tall creature knelt upon its rival's neck and with one great heave, ripped the spinal cord free in a great spray of gore.
Ending the battle.
The back bone was flung into the open grave, followed by the limp carcass of the devil dog. As Alex sagged to the ground in a huge throb of agony, he watched the mythic guardian restore the spilled earth to its rightful place, creating a mound over the demon's remains. And when the grave was complete, it grabbed the cross and drove it deep into the quiet ground where it would be a silencing force for evermore.
Alex waxed and waned, finally opening his eyes when he felt the tall creature's breath against his bloodied face. He pried his eyes open to see the monster standing over him. The pose wasn't threatening. It seemed to be checking to see if he'd survived. Alex summoned up a crooked grin.
Perhaps it was the workings of a pain-glazed mind, but it seemed that the tall creature grinned back. Then all went dark and silent.
ӜӜӜ
"Alex?"
The sound of his name, as if spoken from miles or lifetimes away, stirred him back to a vague awareness. Wayne, shaking his shoulder, waking him for his shift at the station. He muttered a protest and tried to roll away.
That's when the pain stabbed through him, jarring him back where trees and sky met his wandering stare. And two faces, pinched with concern, hovered over him.
Wayne and Al.
"Hey, you guys," he murmured faintly. "What're you doing here?"
"We couldn't let you go it alone," Al told him. "We're a team, remember?"
"Looks like we were a little late."
Alex grinned foolishly. "Naw, not too late. Just in time. To take me to the hospital."
And looking at their friend, all bloody and battered and broken, they didn't argue.
"Is—is it over?" Wayne asked at last, his stare shifting to the newly-mounded grave.
"For that creature, yes," Alex stated with a hard certainty."But for me, no way. I got a lady waiting on me and I don't want to piss her off."
"Need a ride?"
He grinned up at Wayne. "Won't turn one down."
"Wait until the press gets a hold of you, bud," Al crowed, his gaze brimming with affection and pride. "You're gonna be an honest to God hero."
"Been one before," Alex mumbled, strength fading slowly now that the threat was gone. "Time I was a husband."
Wayne glanced around the circle of stillness and made a firm pronouncement. “Nobody will ever walk on this ground again. That’s a Higley promise.”
ӜӜӜ
Once they got his leg splinted, it was a slow, laborious process toting Alex out of the woods between them. He was in and out of it, unable to answer their questions.
Questions would wait.
He slumped in the front seat of Wayne's truck, trusting them to take him where he wanted to go and to see he got there in one piece.Or a least with his pieces hanging together. His next awareness was of the emergency entrance as he was eased down into the wheelchair that met them at the door. He let the attendant push him inside where the sterile smells and cauterizing lights cut through the rest of his dull lethargy.
The poor man turned away to get an admittance form, and when he looked back, found his patient had disappeared. The two firemen that brought the man in just grinned and kept him from calling out the reserves by answering the necessary questions. They knew where the patient was going and decided it best to give him a little time alone.
ӜӜӜ
Alex gritted his teeth as the foot plate of the chair banged into the door to push it open. The police officers were gone, on their way to answer one of two grisly calls.
But Helen Kerwood didn’t need protection any more.
Alex wheeled himself forward, across the slick tiled floor to the white draped bed framed with metal rails all tied up neatly with a m
ultitude of tubes and wires. Ignoring the IV drip, he manipulated the chair as close as he could, close enough so he could see for himself that the fresh sheet was rising and falling gently on its own.
She was alive.
And she was an angel, untouched by the ugliness forced upon her.Her features were serene, her color softly rosy as she drifted through a lightly sedated slumber. Hard to superimpose that blissful picture over how he'd last seen her. But the bulky swaddling of bandages that encased her arm was an unavoidable reminder.
Sighing his relief, Alex slid his hand over her still, slender fingers, brushing the gold of her wedding band with his tender touch before curling her hand into his palm for a protective and possessive clasp.
"I kept my promise, Helen," he whispered in weary satisfaction. "I beat my demons, both real and imagined. And you were the strength that got me through it. Nothing's ever going to get the best of both of us again."
And content at last, he let his head sink down atop their linking hands, knowing the price for their future happiness had been paid in full.
CHAPTER TWENTY
The woods were deep and green and steeped in centuries of quiet.Branches interlaced to form an impenetrable canopy, shielding the sky from the spongy ground below. The sounds of nature were generous and free of spirit, a sweet symphony of life, its cycle renewed.
Along a hasty path, tendrils of plant life already moved to overtake non-organic intruders. In a matter of weeks, the two backpacks would be completely engulfed by wild strawberry vines and budding flowers. In a matter of months, they would begin to disintegrate, feeding the forest floor instead of violating it, giving way to a quiet conqueror that was as determined and steadfast as time.
But as the wind moaned through the upper branches, echoes shuffled through the leaves, sounding, if one listened just right, like a distant battle, where once good and evil met and measured strength for strength, right against might.
And if one happened to turn quickly enough, a glimpse of movement, a glint of brightness conjured the image of knights engaged, sword upon sword, in a timeless struggle, one against the other.
And when the gale picked up its pace, it sounded like the mighty sobs of a heart-broken father, weeping for the one thing he, with all his power and majesty, couldn't control—life, itself, forever and always out of his hands.
The price of mortality, of a bargain met and paid for in blood.
In the heart of the forest, in the thick of the woods, where smells were rich and thick with rebirth, a circle stood out like a chill, barren canker, where nothing would ever grow again. And a cold light shone down upon a crude cross, the only thing that stood between heaven and hell.
Where in the trees, a guardian of infinite patience stood, watching, more carefully now, intent upon fulfilling an ancient vow.
Where death was sealed in darkness and evil waited just below the frost line.
Waiting to be reawakened.
AFTERWORD
For me, it was a fluke. A screen writer/independent film producer from my hometown was shopping in an area bookstore when he got a sudden inspiration for a way to help promote his movie project IN THE WOODS. A novelization of his screen play! He asked the store owner if he knew of anyone local who could turn his dark fantasy/horror work into book form and, bless his heart, the owner pulled one of my vampire romances off the shelf and said “Read this.”
As a veteran of book signings where everyone has a story waiting to become a bestseller—you just have to write it down and split the profits!—I was understandably wary when first contacted by Lynn Drzick and listened to him pitch his idea. I was doing comfortably well in romance, but . . . I confess, I’m a closet movieaholic! I love the film industry. I love to be scared to death. And frankly, I was intrigued, so I agreed to read the screen play.
My first concern was what if it stunk? Thankfully I saw huge possibilities in the action-oriented plot line. Then, what if I was uncomfortable with the subject matter? Horror is, after all, rather horrible. Okay, I could deal with the gore, I could build on the tension, I could wallow in the mood. Then, the hard part. Would I be able to work within the limiting framework of someone else’s ideas, someone else’s words? I had to weigh the pros and cons.
To relieve my residual worries, I met with writer/producer Lynn Drzick to give him a flexibility check. We discussed several changes and the ways I wanted to develop certain scenes. He was wonderfully open to suggestions. With no doubts that we could work well together, I started to write.
It was fun!What I had was a plot outline and dialogue. From there, I got to create character depth and motivations that wouldn’t necessarily appear on film, but would be vital for a reading experience. I built and expanded scenes to tie the action together, weaving in background details, emotional textures and internal dialogue—painting the story in words, the way a camera would in pictures and sound. Then, because I’m a romance writer, I got to beef up the relationship between the hero and his wife so that he would come back to her for that obligatory happy ending.
When I was finished and reread the novelization, I was pleased to find that a miracle had occurred. Our styles blended seamlessly. There was no shift of voice. It worked! And both of us were proud of the result.
Collector edition copies of IN THE WOODS were printed up in a small number by Lynn’s Katharsys Pictures Publishing in order to garner reviews (one compared it to early King!!), to promote the project, and to send to Hollywood in a terrific package which was also to include a comic book version (that unfortunately never got finished). The film’s preview trailer was shot (my son and I were guests on the set!) and I even got to make my film debut, realizing quickly that acting would never pay my rent.
My experiences working on IN THE WOODS were fabulous. It was fun to be a part of something so exciting and foreign when compared to the isolated world of a writer. The autographings in comic book and New Age stores opened my eyes to a whole new type of reader—very different, but no less loyal than my romance fans. Seeing MY name on the big screen as credits rolled for my amazing role as “Bar Extra”, and for doing the ADR script (watching the dialogue-only version of the film and scripting it word for word, including the unintelligible ones, for later voice overs) was an indescribable thrill. To work once again with Lynn, his wife Lisa, and leading actor DJ Perry on two other screenplays and have one of them, SAVAGE, made into an Indie film, to boast that my name is listed on IMDB as both actor (snort!) and screenwriter, and to be mentioned in a Fangoria article! . . . Sorry, fangirl moment!
And now, fifteen years later . . .
When Lynn invited me to the 15 Year Anniversary screening of IN THE WOODS in my hometown Kalamazoo where it was filmed, it was like getting the band back together. Catching up with old friends, sitting with the actors and their families while IN THE WOODS once again played on the big screen—priceless. And it generated a whole new spark of interest in getting the book back out to readers in the expanded format as the film prepares for release in Blu-Ray and Video On Demand in 2015 (I’m recording a commentary with Lynn and DJ as a special feature!!).
Ah, the drama and allure of the entertainment industry. A dream come true for this usually behind the scenes writer. Gotta go. It’s time for my close up . . .
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Nancy Gideon is the award winning author of over 55 romances ranging from historical, regency and series contemporary suspense to paranormal, with a couple of horror screenplays tossed into the mix. She works full time as a legal assistant, and when not at the keyboard, feeds a Netflix addiction along with all things fur, fin and fowl. She also writes under the pen names Dana Ransom and Rosalyn West.
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