Death Head Valley

by David Charlesworth

  'Bilbo!' Zoe cried. 'You huge dork. I love you!' She leapt up and flung her arms around him and the rest of the gang followed suit.

  6.

  Jimmy held the whiskey bottle up to his lips and sucked down the last of his Dutch courage. He glanced up at the mountain face of Allan and his head began to see-saw with a mixture of the booze and vertigo. He clamped his eyes shut, pulled in as much of the night air as he could and held it for ten.

  It didn't help. Never did.

  'Dang it,' he cursed and shook his face, hoping to wean out just enough of the alcohol that was tipping him over from useless to truly useless. But regardless of his state, there was no turning back now. His mind was set and he was going to do something. He wasn't going to sit idly by. Not today! How many years had that psychopath been killing people in those woods? He'd be damned if he'd sit back and let that tally go any higher.

  He slung his shotgun over onto his shoulder and his feet passed from the pavement and onto the dark, earthen trail and entered the woods.

  Traipsing around in the dark with a loaded gun and a belly full of liquor. He could almost hear Lesley now, saying he'd be more likely to kill himself through an accidental discharge than anything else.

  But better that than to die doing nothing at all, is what he'd say back to her, if he could.

  He shuddered. It was finally sinking in, how right that phantom trace of Lesley was. It would be so easy for him to die out here. These could be his final thoughts.

  Despite the manhunt, the searches (which he'd taken part in) and the odd interferences from outside sources, they'd never found hide nor hair of Connor Finlayson, the madman of the valley. But he'd always believed. He knew that feral lunatic was out there, somewhere. He just had to keep his wits about him, make sure the bogeyman didn't get the drop on him.

  You could easily die out here! he heard Lesley say again in the back of his mind.

  He picked his way through the trees as the trail died at a dead end. Up ahead he heard the nameless river that came down from the flooded quarry. He'd follow it upstream to the more popular campsites. He hoped that's where the kids were anyway, so long as they didn't go as far as the quarry they might be alright. Story went that's where Connor made his home after the accident.

  The river appeared to his left, the water sluiced past lazily. He stopped and splashed his face, the new moon reflecting off the clear waters, showing him his shadow self, features hidden by the black light... and there, besides him. Another shadow!

  He yelped, dropping the shotgun into his waiting palm, spinning on his heels...

  There was nothing there. What had he seen?

  He rose his eyes to trees above him. A shirt, torn and faded was snagged on a branch that overhung the river. He looked back down at the water and it wafted over his shoulder. He'd mistaken it for a face, somehow.

  'God damn it!' he snapped at himself. You could easily die out here! He'd be more careful next time.

  He licked his lips and wished he'd brought more booze despite the state he was already in, but with the drink came memories. The legends of the missing kids. Not even teenagers like the rabble that drove through town. Children as young as seven or eight, plucked from their beds even as their night-lights promised them protection from the evils of the world.

  He often thought of them, and his own children. They'd had four kids, himself and Lesley. He'd often wondered if any of them had survived, would that have been motivation for him to finally leave this godforsaken place? Though when Lesley died along with their fourth he had resigned himself to his fate here. He had also wondered about the heartbreak those other parents had felt, with their children stolen from them at age eight. Did it compare to his own pain when he lost his children before their actual birth days? He couldn't begin to imagine.

  Then came tears. That'll be the gin, that.

  'Could easily die out here,' he finally said out loud through huge, wet sobs.

  And would that be so bad? How many nights had he sat in the garage with the same shotgun he held now, tucked up under his chin? Lesley was gone and with her were Marty, Tabitha, Johnny and John. It was bad enough that God himself was plucking away children so early, no way was he letting that bastard Connor take them away too!

  He racked a shell, spat away the hurt and marched on.

  The trees began to disperse along the riverbank and his boots sank into the soft, loose soil. Each step harder than the last as he trudged on. He wasn't alone either. He could feel it. Eyes measuring him up, weighing their chances against him and the gun that bobbed, heavy in his hands. Not critters eyes either, not those of a boar or pig, human eyes.

  The booze, exertion, and fear. It poured out of him as he screamed, 'WHERE ARE YOU? YOU SON OF A BITCH! YOU LEAVE THEM KIDS ALONE. HEAR? YOU WANT SOMEONE SO BAD YOU TAKE ME. YOU TAKE ME!'

  That is what he wanted, after all. Right? Someone else to step in and pull the trigger after all those times he was too afraid to. Reunite him with Lesley and the kids. He wondered if they had been growing, up there in heaven. Marty would be a man himself now, if that were the case. Or were they still all babes, fresh from Lesley's belly. Asleep and waiting to be a proper family again before they'd cry out for the first time, waiting for their papa to sooth their fears of a life yet to be lived.

  Tears again. Anguish and frustration.

  'SHOW YOURSELF YOU DAMN COWARD!'

  And speak of the devil... to his right, just behind the bushes, in the treeline. A shadow shifted slightly in moonlight that filtered down, shredded by leaves.

  Jimmy turned and let loose with a snapshot.

  The orange flash from the muzzle lit up the immediate area as the crack of gunfire ripped through the woods. In that brief moment when the pale, muted colours of the valley were replaced with a wink of orange daylight he could have sworn he saw the eyes of the beast itself.

  The shadow was gone. The echoing gunfire faded, leaving behind the sound of rushing water behind him and his own rapid breath.

  He pumped the grip of the shotgun, ejecting the empty shell and racking a new one. He eyes were still paper cuts in his weather beaten face. He scanned the trees and brought the gun to his shoulder, winking as he stared down the nub of the iron sight. It was a shotgun loaded with 12 gauge buck, after all. Aiming was really a cursory afterthought.

  This is it, he thought, snapping his aim back and forth across the treeline. One way or another someone was about to die. He knew his own death would bring him peace, but what if he managed to take Connor down? Would saving the kids at the campsite offer him some sort of long-term respite? Would the nightmares stop then? Would-

  A hand reached out from his blind side.

  It snatched at the barrel of the gun and wrenched it upwards with terrible strength. Jimmy instinctively snapped his fist closed, causing the shotgun to let loose another riotous blast. Before he could do anything else, least of all try and pump another shell, the gun was ripped from his shaking hands and tossed into the river where it vanished with a heavy splash.

  The same hand that had taken his weapon then socked him square on the chin, sending Jimmy spinning from the blow. The bastard was stronger and faster than he had imagined. How had he got the drop on him when he'd just seen him across the way? There was nothing he could in his dazed state to stop what happened next.

  The same strong hand that knocked him down gripped his wrist, forcing it up his back. Then, as if he weighed nothing at all, the killer grabbed a handful of fabric at the scruff of his neck and hefted him towards the riverbed and forced his head into the coursing waters.

  The freezing shock knocked him sober instantly and he let out a scream. His voice, carried by his precious expunged air, was washed away in the form of a stream of bubbles. He drove himself further into the cold earth as he fought the weight on his back, his mind racing. Some small part of it hoping Connor's bloodlust would be sated and hoping his sacrifice would mean the campers would be left alone.

  By the same token
, faced with his impending death he was certain Lesley and the kids could wait another few years before they saw him again. Surely if she was up there in Heaven with God, looking down, she'd do something to help keep his soul on this plane of existence for just a little while longer. Surely?

  Even though there was none to be had under the cold waters of the unnamed river, Jimmy's body demanded air. His diaphragm contracted and instead of breath, his lungs drew water into them and the agony of oxygen deprivation was joined by the crippling pain of drowning. It was a terrible, but thankfully brief moment until his mind, starved of oxygen died and Jimmy was at peace.

  Letting go of the husk in their hands, the killer placed a filthy boot against the sodden back of Jimmy's corpse.

  They shoved it into the water, where it was swept away.

  Whether Jimmy was finally with Lesley and their children was of little concern to his murderer as they sank back into the darkness. Their blood-lust far from sated.

  7.

  Morning passed without incident. Nobody stirred until at least eleven, the first of whom being Bilbo. He crawled from his tent with some effort, heaving himself back into his chair where upon he swore he would sleep sitting up that night. He lit a smoke, grabbed a donut for breakfast and began playing on his Gameboy.

  Donovan and Annie were next, wearily getting to their feet, a hangover threatening to knock them right back down at any minute. The rest joined, all similarly worse for wear and Philly could not help but comment how the scene was like some small scale and real lame zombie uprising.

  'Hope you're all ready for another day of fun and games, homies,' Bilbo called out, holding up some freshly rolled doobies.

  'Maybe a beer. Hair of the dog,' Anton said.

  'I might throw up,' Kevin replied, but all the same took a tin when offered.

  'Which way did you say the river was?' Zoe asked. 'I need to freshen up.'

  Philly stepped forward, about to offer to show her the way when Anton spoke up.

  'Hey, me too. Here, I'll show you.'

  'A Satanist AND a gentleman,' Zoe smiled as they turned towards the creek. Philly couldn't help himself as a scowl crept across his face.

  Bilbo watched on, recording everything that was happening and he could see Philly was hurting. Just as clearly he could see Donovan could not stop playing with the ring in his pocket, but Bilbo wasn't about to spoil that surprise. Instead he called out.

  'Philly! Homie, c'mere.'

  His face was ready to crack. It always had an air of tragedy about it, even when he was joking or gushing about a shared interest.

  'Hey Bilbo.'

  'Pull up a chair, man. We haven't had a proper heart to heart yet.'

  Slipping his Gameboy away, Bilbo brought out his weed case, a little tub with various paraphernalia in it. He set about making more spliffs, grinding up the buds he had and constructing frames from the papers as he spoke.

  'How have you been?'

  'Fine, I guess. You?'

  'You know me. I've just been chilling out, thinking. Chilling some more.'

  'Sounds good. So how did you like the new episode of The King and his Thro-'

  'Things not going so well between you and Zoe, huh?' Bilbo cut in, licking the length of the gum for his rolling paper.

  'I guess not.'

  'You know I was in love once, homie?' he said, sparking the spliff and offering it to Philly,

  'I don't smoke. Thanks though.'

  'I made it real weak. That's why I'm not smoking it. But here's the deal, I'm not opening my heart up to someone who isn't high, y'hear me?'

  Philly looked at the drug cigarette, as he called them, and then at Bilbo who stared up at him with his half closed eyes. What the hell! he thought, accepting it and taking a drag, coughing hard as he did. He waited for a mocking laugh, but none came. Bilbo was cool, after all. Mockery was something that asshole Anton would do... probably.

  'There we go. Like a pro!' Bilbo smiled, pulling out his own spliff which dwarfed Philly's. 'Now... where was I?'

  'Love,' Philly said, his voice croaking. His head grew light.

  'Mothafuckin' love! Her name was Cassie. She was beautiful and hilarious and every other dumb, vague thing you say about someone you love, because it's more than all that, isn't it? More than that, but you can't explain it, so you say that meaningless shit. More than their looks, how they eat, how they think... there's just an energy that feeds you when you're near them and it works the opposite when they're gone. It just fuckin' saps your life when they 'aint near. You get me?'

  Perhaps it was the weed talking, but Philly was starting to think that maybe Bilbo was a genius.

  'We used to spend near every day together. For months... years. That girl was something else altogether and I was a better man for being with her. You know the fucked up thing though, homie?'

  'No, homi- I mean, no dude,' Philly gagged, then giggled.

  Bilbo laughed too, shaking his head.

  'The fucked up thing? She didn't love me back. Told me straight after we hung the first month. Just one of those things, and isn't that just an asshole of a saying? “Just one of those things.” But sometimes it is. You can't make someone love you, just like the way you can't help but love someone. Feel me?'

  'But here's what you do. You tough it out for this weekend. Then you treat Zoe like she's a drug. It sounds like a horrible thing to say, and it is, my man. I don't take any pleasure in saying it. But I can't see you hurting, homie. You got to wean yourself off her, off that love, that energy she gives you. You gotta find that energy from somewhere else and if you're real lucky, you know where you'll find it?'

  Philly shook his head.

  'Like mothafuckin' E.T. said, man. It's right here,' Bilbo pointed to his chest.

  Philly drew in another lungful of smoke and the pair stared at each other for a silent, reflective moment. He wasn't entirely convinced, but he sure felt a lot more relaxed after the weed.

  'Thanks Bilbo,' he smiled.

  'Lil' homie... you are more than welcome. Now tell me... who do you think is gonna take the King's throne? And what the HELL are they gonna do about that Lich lord and all those motherfuckin' dragons?'

  Kevin joined them and the three of them delved into the deeper aspects of their favourite show. Things got a little heated however when the subject of the books came up. Bilbo, while loving the show, hated the author, calling him a 'Popcorn muncher's version of Tolkien'. Philly knew just how bad the squabbling would get between Kevin and Bilbo and decided to take that opportunity to get himself another beer.

  Donovan stood besides the cooler, staring down the incline to the car park where Annie was digging around for her water bottles in the back. He still could not remove his hand from his pocket, he flipped the ring over and over, fearing that with each pass his fingers would touch, the ring having blinked out of existence.

  'Heading out?' Philly asked, cracking open the container at his feet and getting a beer.

  'Yeah, we're heading out. Going to drive north, to the quarry. Have a look around. It's dug into the side of one of the mountain itself and from what I could tell from the maps we might get a good view from up there.'

  In an ideal world he would have waited for another trip, somewhere with a nice hiking trail that would overlook the ocean as the sun dipped below the horizon, but he was too eager and excited and wanted to get the next stage of their lives together rolling as soon as possible. So it was either the quarry or they could try and scale the sheer faces of the Alan's without any hardcore mountaineering gear and break both their necks. He knew which option he preferred.

  'A quarry in a valley up a mountain. Yeah, that sounds like a great time. Just you and Annie going?' Philly asked, though it was less a snarky question and more a thinly veiled plea.

  Donovan could tell his friend was not having the best of times. Zoe getting familiar with the new guy was all he and Annie had spoke about the night previous in their sleeping bag. He didn't want to let his fr
iend down though, but the proposal had to be a special moment, so he gestured for them to turn their backs on the car park and he pulled the ring from his pocket.

  'Philly, I was trying to keep this secret, but...'

  He flashed the band before tucking it back into his pocket as quickly as possible.

  'OH MY GOD-' Philly shouted, nearly tumbling backwards.

  'Shhh! You'll spoil it,' Donovan said, reaching up, wanting to cover Philly's mouth.

  'You're getting married!'

  'Well, I'm proposing. If she says “yes” then we're getting married. But yeah. Obviously. I love her. This is my mom's ring too. I love her dude I-'

  'Let me guess, you never stop thinking about her. She gives you an energy and she seems to sap it when you're apart. You can't even describe why you love her and other cliché crap which isn't so cliché when you feel it. Right?'

  'Wow. Yeah. Well put.'

  Where had that come from? Donovan wondered and how the hell could he explain it to Annie if he could not even get a single word of it out to Philly. He just hoped the ring would speak for itself.

  'I just love her,' he said. 'I want to spend the rest of my life with her.'

  'That's great, Don. She'll say yes, obviously. She's as crazy for you as you are her.'

  'Thanks. But look, this is why we're going alone. I want it to be special. As special as proposing in a quarry can be, I guess.'

  'It's unique! Might not be Paris in spring or Venice in winter or... I don't know, Botswana in fall... but you'll never forget it.'

  'Forget what?' Annie asked and both Philly and Donovan flinched with shock.

  'Your first quarry,' Philly said.

  'Yeah. You never forget your first... quarry,' Donovan echoed, giving Philly the stink eye for his lame cover. Luckily Annie was too busy digging around in her bag to hear them properly.

  'I've seen a quarry before. It's just something to do really,' she said.

  Donovan gave a sly wink and a thumbs up. Philly then mirrored the gesture.