Published in Great Britain in 2019 by
Hellbound Media
an independent publisher
Copyright © 2019 David Charlesworth
Cover by David V G Davies
The right of the author to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the copyright owners.
This is a work of fiction. All characters in this book are completely fictitious. Any resemblance to any person living or dead is purely coincidental.
“Maniac Gardener” character is the intellectual property of Lord Andrew Ashton and is used with kind permission.
ISBN- 978-0-9934266-7-4
DEATH HEAD
VALLEY
DAVID CHARLESWORTH
Rain hammered down with such force that Artie had to physically stiffen his neck in order to keep his view straight. He'd never experience weather this shitty before and he prayed to God he never would again.
His hat, touted as waterproof, was living up to the promise made by the eager clerk at the camping store... his slacks, however, were another story. He could feel the damp pool that had gathered in the indent his backside made in the fishing chair and it was starting to wrinkle his balls and ass. That's all I need. He thought to himself. Another reason for Wanda to avoid looking at me in the bedroom.
Behind him, rummaging through the car was Todd. Even over the sound of the thundering river and the accompanying roar of the storm Artie could hear him singing to himself.
'Asshole.' He spat.
He hated fishing. He hated camping. He hated being outdoors. Why the hell did he even agree to this? Todd was adamant that they do something over the weekend. He insisted they get out and away from their usual haunts: The usual bars, the play-offs, their wives. But why fishing?
Wanda wasn't best pleased that Artie had been passed over for promotion again. Though they both knew that was just a convenient, on-hand excuse for yet another argument. A divorce was looming on the horizon, haunting their relationship and they were both prodding each other, pushing each other to step closer towards saying those inevitable words and making it a reality. How fishing was meant to help with that was beyond Artie's understanding.
Todd came waddling past. 'Sure is a doozy, huh?' he said.
'Sure is,' Artie replied, trying, and failing, to hide his contempt. He gazed at the line. He didn't know the tensile strength of it, nor did he know what bait was attached to the hook, nor the lure used, but his rod was pulled left as the river rushed past. There was a million to one chance of a fish swimming into his hook, he guessed. It'd have to be gawping at exactly the right time, at exactly the right angle and going at exactly the right speed. He had a better chance of reconciling things with Wanda.
Although, according to Todd on their ride here, “catching a fish is the least interesting part of fishing!”
Beside him, Todd began setting up his gear. His rainproof coat and slacks were huge and puffy and made his proportions look like that of a toddler's. He awkwardly fixed his chair and slumped into it, arms jutting out to the sides. Artie saw the flaw in his plan immediately, but said nothing. Of all the things to forget, Todd had sat down without the most important thing a fisherman might need... his rod. He glanced to his sides twice before it sank in. 'God damn it all!' he cried out.
'Hey, I thought catching the fish was the worst part of all this?' Artie gloated.
'Yeah, well... I still want the illusion of being able to catch one. Smart-ass.'
The giant man-child struggled to his feet, his bulk a hindrance when it came to finer motor functions, and slipped off behind them. Their setup was illuminated by a high powered halogen light they'd set up and Artie's shadow reached out, long and low across the rapid torrents and onto the far bank. The light was so strong it even caught the opposing tree line.
As Todd passed by the lamp he threw the world into darkness for the briefest of seconds. When the light came back Artie felt a clench in his chest as something (or someone) he hadn't registered before ducked back into the dense woods opposite.
'Fuck me... Todd?' he called out. Keeping his eyes fixed on the dark shadows across the way, peering through the haze of rain that made the whole world look like one of the badly tuned “stag” video tapes him and his pals used to watch as kids when his folks were out of the house. He shifted slightly, soaking even more of his undercarriage as the water that pooled there sluiced around his butt.
He was a city boy. He insisted to himself once again. He wasn't one for the countryside, why was he here? Even when he married Wanda their honeymoon had been to Vegas. One huge, massive city. They could have gone camping outside of Vegas! At least it'd be dry!
'Todd?' he called again. God only knew what was out there in the dark, skulking in the shadows: bears, wolves or worse... he'd seen Deliverance. Todd may have looked more like Ned Beatty than he did, but Todd also boxed in his college years and kept it up as a lark every few weeks. What could he do if some mutated hick came for him, lust in their inbred eyes and hands on their weapons? Offer to do their taxes?
It was too much and he all but screamed, 'TODD!'
'What?' the lumbering hulk asked, as he crossed back over the light. The world vanished for a blink, and Artie could have swore he saw it again, but back in the company of his friend he felt the fool and could not bring himself to admit his fears.
'Thought I had a bite,' he lied.
Todd fell back into his chair, rod by his side and a beer in his hand. Water splashed out from under him. He clearly bought the right pants and didn't care where he sat. He necked the beer back, rain slathering his face and Artie had to wonder how much of what his pal had swallowed was booze and what was filthy rainwater.
'Isn't this just the life?' Todd said, beaming.
'It's something alright,' Artie grumbled.
'Me and my Daddy used to come up these ways all the time when I was a boy. Fishing, hunting, camping... you name it.'
Artie wanted to add something about being corn-holed by hillbillies, but kept his mouth shut.
'Shame he ain't with us any more,' Todd continued, 'I think you woulda liked him.'
'Yeah? Why's that?' Artie asked.
'Because he was a miserable prick too!' Todd laughed, 'But no, seriously... I wish I could have brought him back up here. Hell, I wish I would have come back up here sooner too. The nostalgia is incredible. The smells, the sights, the sounds...'
'So why did you stop? What changed?'
'Ah, there was that shit with those kids,' Todd said, killing his beer.
'What kids?' Artie asked, shifting himself to get a better look at his buddy. Todd was staring out across the far bank, his eyes had glazed over.
'See, there's a quarry up the way there and there was a small community that was built up around it as well as the actual town down the way. We used to come in and meet the locals and have a grand old time of it. I was about sixteen or so when it happened... There was a big accident. A lot of people died and over the next few years the valley kinda grew sour. The locals, with no trade, began to disperse or try and tough it out. That's when the first kid died.'
'Note the way I said first kid. They'd either turn up dead or go missing. Soon the valley got a nasty reputation and my Daddy said it just wasn't the place he'd grew up with, y'know? I didn't pay much mind to it, as callous as that sounds. Kids went missing, turned up dead, but no foul play was called. But either way, without him pulling me along I just stopped coming here
too. I was more interested in chicks then... and cars... and doing things to chicks in cars, if you know what I mean.'
'Kids died?' Artie repeated, 'What happened to them then if it wasn't foul play?'
Todd didn't reply, just kept his gaze fixed on the far bank. Artie didn't realise it, but his questions had been whispered and didn't carry to his friend's ears. They sat, silent amidst the storm when suddenly Todd flinched.
'AW SHIT!' he cried out, and Artie's heart nearly leapt from his throat at the outburst, 'forgot my damn tackle box!'
Todd did his usual pantomime of getting out of his chair and stomped back towards the car, blocking out the light again and though there were no shifting figments of his imagination this time he could have swore the far shadows were darker than they had been a few moments ago.
'Christ,' he grumbled, 'fishing in god damn haunted woods. Why couldn't his Pa have gotten him into something other than this nature shit. Like strip clubs or golf.'
The rain continued to pummel his head and he let his neck give, slumping forward, his spirit trampled by the horrific truth of his surroundings. Now he had to worry about inbred hillbillies killing him as well as violating him. Just great!
His hand, still firmly on his rod, didn't even register the unusual twitching at first, not until a fierce yank nearly took it right out from between his fingers. Something was pulling on the line, something stronger than the usual pull of the river.
'You have GOT to be kidding me!' he laughed.
A bite! A million to one chance and he'd gotten it! He strengthened his grip on the rod and began to reel in the line as a shadow was cast over him, plunging the world into darkness.
'I GOT A BITE, TODD! I GOT A GOD DAMNED BITE! WHO SAYS LANDING A FISH IS THE LEAST INTERESTING PART?'
In the darkness he continued to reel in his quarry, fighting the pull like Todd had told him to, and his heart was near fit to burst from his rib cage. He'd never felt so alive! Maybe Todd knew what he was talking about after all. A million to one chance of landing a bite. A million to one chance of making his marriage work again. All of a sudden he liked those odds!
'Todd, buddy. Get out of the light for me? I can't see what I'm doing!'
Light flooded the area again and out of Artie's peripheral vision he saw something land in Todd's chair with a wet smack. He glanced at it for all of a second before looking back at the line... What was that? he thought, his mind fighting against the obvious and horrifying truth.
He looked again and forgot all about the reel. The fish took off, taking with it the lure, and the line quickly ran out and snapped. Artie didn't care though as he could not take his eyes from what had been dumped into the chair besides him.
Todd's dead eyes stared back at him, rainwater pooling in them as well as his mouth, which was frozen open in a silent scream. The fabric of the chair was beginning to stain red where blood ran from Todd's neck which had been savagely hacked from his body.
Artie's jaw dropped as he matched Todd's expression. They both looked just like a fish hooked on a line: Eyes wide, mouth agape, unable to comprehend what was happening.
Artie began to scream and put all of his joking aside; What were the odds of actually getting murdered in the woods? Really?
He turned into the light and saw the flash of an axehead as it came flying towards him in a large, overhead arc.
A million to one, surely!
1.
It was like a postcard, Annie thought, as the final straggling remnants of the storm slipped away revealing the true splendour of the twin mountain peaks of Alan and Allan. They appeared to have erupted from the ground at their own volition in what was otherwise a flat state, and it was there, nestled in their shadowy basin that they were planning to spend the weekend.
The plains and farmland were covered with glistening dew that was drying under the now-baking summer sun, making the grass and wheat sparkle as it rippled like calm ocean waves.
The smell of the fields swamped the car, that fresh green smell you never found in the city. She lowered her window all the way down and let the aroma fuel the buzzing energy that had been building in her stomach. She could not sit still, she felt like a kid going to Disney-land, but she refused to give in and dance along to the cheesy Eighties pop music Donovan was playing on the radio. She'd swore that she'd never dance to the old man music he liked.
Instead, she stuck her head out of the window and let the hot winds whip through her golden locks that trailed behind her as though she were underwater.
'You part dog?' Donovan said, reaching over and gently pinching her side,
She let out a little scream, 'Asshole!' and smacked him away, but he didn't hear her, the wind took her words away before they reached his ears. And though he had not heard her, he met her eyes regardless and they shared a smile. His teeth were bright and brilliant, even in the relative gloom of the SUV. That perfect smile on that perfect face. She had to be the luckiest person alive to be with Donovan Rooney, the most wonderful person alive.
Annie had known she had fallen in love the exact moment he had quit football to be with her.
The coach and the rest of the team had kittens when he broke the news. It was the last year of college and they were just a few months away from the big game and there were rumours that professional scouts would be there.
“Practice is getting in the way of the best years of our lives,” he'd said to her, “What are the odds of going pro anyway? And if I did, that would mean more practice. More time apart. If there's even a one percent chance that I'd lose you because of that, then it's not a bet I'd be willing to take.”
That was the night of their first barbecue, something that had become a yearly celebration. Hence the trip. It began as an act of defiance, promising to only love and live for themselves and by their own means from there on out... and they had. The gang had split and gone their separate ways without any arguments or vitriol, and their yearly get-togethers were now a celebration of their friendship as they chased their own dreams. Though whether they would ever catch them was a different matter altogether.
The bright green plains took on darker hues as trees began to dot the landscape. The woodlands began to take precedence as the mountains drew ever nearer.
As Annie slipped back into the car a voice called out from the back seat, 'Aw man!'
She craned her neck to look at “their” Philly. He was cramped away in the corner besides the camping gear, head buried in his phone, more comfortable in the virtual world that he ever was in the real one. He was holding his cell up to the window, then he tried holding it out to his side. Every movement was awkward and he constantly bumped his hand against parts of the car.
'What's up?' she asked.
He glanced up with his nervous eyes, 'No signal. I thought you said they had a cell tower here?'
'No, I said they were building a cell tower here,' Donovan said.
'Well are they going to have it up in the next three minutes?'
'Maybe? I guess we'll find out in four.'
'Dang.'
Annie kept her eyes on her Philly. His head twitched back and forth and she stifled a giggle as he looked more like a bird than ever. A big owl's head on a gangly rake of a body.
There was no two ways about it, their friendship was a complete and utter fluke, but it was a mistake they were all glad had been made.
For extra credit Philly had signed up for an after school class, but misread the flyer and thought he was going to be studying video games and instead wound up in a biology club about viral germs. Being young (and by his own admission, a complete loser) he stayed for the entire hour out of fear of appearing the fool and admitting he came to the wrong study room. The session ended and he left without much fanfare, only for the strangest thing to happen... come the following week, he turned up again. Exactly the same mistake, exactly the same nervous dedication to not wanting to stand out and be noticed. Annie had been partnered with the odd duck then and, wouldn't you know it,
they'd made each other laugh.
What followed was a peculiar few months where she could have swore Philly was harbouring a crush, but the more he hung out with herself and Donovan the closer they grew. Don especially enjoyed his company, bonding over their shared love for trashy horror movies and a love for the supernatural, despite it freaking Philly out.
He began to relax, started speaking up around crowds and eased up on falling in love with every girl who gave him the time of day. Well... all but one.
He was still a huge dork, but he was their dork.
'Why are you so desperate for a signal anyway?' Annie asked, fearing the response, 'we not good enough company for you all of a sudden?'
'You're fine company... barely,' he said with a smile, 'I was texting Zoe.'
And there it was. Philly's Achilles heel. Annie glanced at Donovan who just shrugged and they let the conversation drop. After what happened last year they decided it was best not to poke that hornet's nest and just crossed their fingers and hoped for the best.
A sliver of grey on the horizon heralded the arrival of the small town, on the cusp of the woods at the base of the mountains, and Duran Duran started up on the radio. The thought of anything other than this being the start of the greatest weekend of the year slipped effortlessly from Annie's mind and the buzz in her stomach ballooned and she caught herself nodding along to the music.
'Just give in and dance,' Donovan said, slapping the wheel in tune to Planet Earth.
So she did.
Donovan dropped a hand from the wheel and slid it into his pocket and he was certain she knew. He felt the band, his Mom's wedding ring that was held tight to his leg by his jeans. He was an idiot, jeopardising the surprise by touching it when he could feel it pressing against his thigh anyway. It was all his brain could register, that small lump against his leg. He could not help it though. It felt unreal, like this was someone else's dream and if they woke up the ring would vanish.
Death Head Valley Page 1
