'Are we going then?' she asked.
The SUV roared into life and they turned out of their glade and set off, following the trail to the far side of the valley, following the river that flowed down from the quarry.
Glittering beams of light refracted on the surface of the river from the late afternoon sun and Annie watched as fish leapt from the surging waters. She nudged Donovan and he stared over at the spectacle in silent awe. She rolled down her window and the roar of the river drowned out everything, even the truck's powerful engine.
The path grew steeper and diverted away from the river, leaving them adrift, lost in a sea of dense trees.
'Where would you build your perfect home?' Annie asked, scanning the woods, her answer already set in her mind. She'd resigned herself, and by extension, the pair of them, to renting somewhere in the city. It only just struck her how much she wanted something more for the pair of them.
'Anywhere so long as-' Donovan began before she cut him off with a smack to his arm.
'You say anywhere so long as it's with me and I'll puke and then kick your ass!'
'I wasn't going to say that!' he protested, rubbing his arm in mock pain.
'You absolutely were, you flake. Give me a real answer. Where would you want to live?'
'If it's not where you want to live will you still love me?'
'Depends. Maybe. Is it a garbage dump?'
'It would be if you lived there with me.'
She hit him again, a little harder this time, but she kept her smile.
'The beach,' he conceded. 'A beach front house where I could sit in the sun all day, maybe go for a swim. Then listen to the crashing waves at night.'
'Ugh, you suck,' she said with a pout.
'No, actually, living on a beach is radical as all hell.'
'”Radical?” When did you turn into a surfer from the nineties?'
'Shut up,' he laughed. 'Go on then, where's better than the beach?'
'Here!' she said. 'Maybe not here exactly. But in the woods, or a forest, or whatever you want to call it. Out in the trees, somewhere beautiful... with a gorgeous view...'
Donovan's heart began to spasm as he pictured the view from the quarry top. Perhaps this wasn't about to blow up in his face after all.
Of course if the impossible happened and they did win the lottery and could live out this fantasy she would live wherever Donovan wanted, even in his tacky beach house. She'd be there in a heartbeat, because as much as she had chewed him out for saying he'd stay with her no matter what, the feeling was mutual. But that was her dream now, it was all so clear. A home amongst the trees. Just her, and Donovan and whatever family they chose to have.
'Weird,' he said. 'You know, in the woods was my second choice. It was just a slight fraction under my first choice.'
'You're pulling my leg!'
'Totally. But if that's where you'd want to live, then that's where I'd want to live too... so long as we're together.'
He turned and smirked. Annie returned the gesture with a smile of her own and this time she didn't hit him.
8.
Bird song filled the woods and it was just one small part of the symphonic background melody that accompanied the laughing duo as they raced through the cool shade of the forest across from the river.
Their joyous abandon drowned out the sounds the stalker made as he followed. He kicked past roots that were clogged around the base of trees and disturbed piles of rocks, but ultimately went unheard.
Zoe and Anton were too embroiled with themselves, too drunk on the sight of each other to see the shadow that trailed them. They staggered along the path, dancing almost. Arm in arm. Laughing about something their uninvited guest could not quite hear, and that upset him. What was this guy saying that made her laugh so much anyway? Perhaps it didn't matter. If someone finds you hot they'll laugh at anything you say... probably.
'Oh my God!' Zoe gasped, stopping suddenly.
The trees before them grew so dense as to form a natural wall. It curled around before them, creating a small cove. Above them the canopy was thick and intertwined, providing a cosy shelter. The floor here looked like a small pool, as bluebells had overrun the area and now they rippled in the gentle breeze, their faux waves undulating rhythmically.
'Would you look at that!' Anton said.
'I need to take pictures!'
Their stalker drew in, talking advantage of their distraction.
'What does something like that make you feel like doing? I don't mean, right now...' she bit her lip and met Anton's eyes. 'I mean, what does something like that make you want to do? In life?'
She took a few snaps before slipping the camera back into her bag and retook her position besides Anton. His hand hung besides hers for a moment before a force stronger than magnetism pulled them together, their fingers brushing before interlocking as they moved gently into the sea of bluebells.
'I'd love to say some feel good bullshit right now,' Anton said. 'Something about being inspired to paint or write or something... but I don't know.'
Just like their hands had moved of their own accord, the lovers turned to face one another. Zoe's spare hand slipped beneath Anton's shirt and all was silent for a minute. The bird calls, the critters, even the sound of the river seemed to fade away. It was the longest minute the stalker had experienced in his entire life. For the Zoe and Anton it felt like an eternity.
'You expecting a better answer?' Anton said with a sly smile.
Zoe bit her lip again and he leant in, meeting it with his own and they began to kiss deeply. His hands dropped to her hips and she cupped his face. He traced her panty-line along her outer thigh with the tips of his fingers then grabbed her ass, pulling her into him as their passion grew. Lips still locked they found their way to their knees, Zoe pulling her skirt up, hiking a leg over Anton's waist who fell back, finally breaking their embrace. She straddled him, laughing before diving back down to resume their wild kissing amongst the flowers.
White hot fingers tried, and failed, to bury themselves into the trunk of the tree their owner was hiding behind.
Philly watched on. His paranoid fears given flesh as the woman he loved began to romp with a man he had only just met but hated more than even his worst childhood bully. He wanted to tear the tree from its roots, he wanted to crush Anton with it. He wanted to see him smeared across the valley floor.
Zoe straightened her back, crossing her arms at her waist and then with one pull her dress was lifted up and over her head revealing herself. Her hair fell back down around her face and Anton's hand instinctively rose and cupped her breasts, the left one emblazoned with a dazzling butterfly tattoo.
Their stalker forced himself to turn and run before their passions led them to their natural destination. He ran deep into the forest, away from the camp, away from Zoe, away from the heartache.
'God, that was great.' She said, pressing herself against Anton's still slick skin. His heart froze. What to say? Should he say anything? For the first time in a long time he wasn't sure where he stood. He settled on playing it cool and wormed an arm around the back of Zoe's head. She shifted to accommodate the limb and tilted her head to the side so their hair intermingled. They lay there amongst the bluebells, staring at the leafy canopy above and the thin trailing beams of sunlight that snuck into their private little world.
She fished around, blindly, for a cigarette. Neither of them wanting to break their unspoken skin on skin pact. Anton wondered if she meant what she said about their romp being “great”. The thought thrilled him. He just hoped he wasn't stepping on anybody's toes. He had only just met the rest of the gang, who knew what history they all had. But he was part of the gang now, right? It occurred to him that maybe his “lone wolf goth” thing was past due for retirement. He'd done his rounds with the chicks in the bars and festivals. Perhaps having some good, stable friends, or even a relationship, was what he really needed now.
'You want some?' Zoe asked, sparking her smoke.
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'You know it,' he smiled, nudging his groin into her hip.
'Some of this, asshole,' she held the cigarette in front of him.
He pulled away from her, feeling the chill of the late day immediately after losing contact with her hot skin.
'Could I have that to go? I have to, ah...'
'What? Take a piss?' she laughed. 'Oh heavens to be! You'll burn my sensitive little ears if you actually said the word! Thank you for censoring yourself. Or I'd be confined to the pits of hell with your best friend Asmodeus if I were to hear a word of curse-'
'Alright, alright,' he grinned, taking the smoke and clamping it in his teeth as he slipped on his boxers and boots. He had always tried avoiding talking directly about bodily functions when he was with a new girl. Ridiculous, he knew, especially considering what they had just done. But the idea of them knowing he was pissing or... whatever, really irked him.
'I have to walk or my leg will cramp,' he lied, heading out into the brush.
'Well don't forget to piss while your at it!' she called after him.
He grinned. His genuine, disarmed smile, showing off way too much gum. He was just thankful she hadn't seen it.
Making his way around the walls of the small cove he came to a rocky embankment beyond. He scrambled down, trying to put some distance between himself and Zoe, lest she hear him pissing. He walked to the edge of the plateau he was on and the ground dropped away before him. It was only five feet, but the pattern repeated itself down the valley, like giants steps. There was nothing quite like the field of bluebells they had just made love in, but the bushes directly below him were blooming with vibrant yellow flowers. His anarchistic side decided this was where he should piss. Desecrating such beauty with his foul excretions was extremely Satanic. But as soon as he relaxed his bladder he felt a sudden twinge of regret.
'Too late now,' he said to himself as he listened to rhythmic beat of his piss on the leaves.
Zoe, the flower child that she is, would probably hate this. The “Earth Mother” or whatever she believed in would really hate it. Why did he have to be an asshole all the time anyway? Maybe he would make an effort when they got back to civilization. Especially if he hooked up with Zoe permanently. He could stop stealing, stop worshipping Satan, stop trying to look bad-ass when waiting for his bread to toast in the morning.
'Just got to be a better man,' he said. And he would, he decided. Right there and then. A wondrous future unfurled before his mind's eye. Him and Zoe renting a place together, they'd adopt a dog, take up painting together, get matching tattoos...
The sound of his piss hitting leaves was replaced by the sound of liquid on tarp. The pattering, dappled thunder replaced by the sound of his stream hitting a solid surface.
What happened next took a mere few seconds to play out, but the horror unfolded much slower in Anton's mind, like in nightmares where the faster he tried to run the slower he went.
Below him, within the bushes, stood a person. His piss splashing against their shoulder. The figure was clad head to toe in black, waterproof fatigues, face covered with a similarly dark hood. The first ridiculous thought that flashed through his mind before the truth hit home was that it was Zoe standing below him, and maybe she was into kinky shit like golden showers.
Instinctively he tried to clench his kegel muscle to staunch his flow, but then he saw the knife and realised that pissing on someone was now the least of his worries. It was large, curved and heavy.
Like the kind Rambo uses! was the second ridiculous thought to flash through his mind as he saw the serrated back edge.
Shock kept him in place, trying to process how wrong this scenario was, and that's how the blade found him, legs locked, jaw slack and piss still flowing.
The shadow stabbed upwards, the knife slipping between Anton's legs and instantly his stream turned red as he let out a howl more bestial than human. His hands, still on his groin, gripped the area as tightly as they could as the shadow began to twist the blade and tugged him forward.
Suddenly the agony Anton felt was joined by the sensation of flying as he pitched forward, off the ledge. The trees spun around him until he landed on his back, in the foliage, his shaking limbs entangled in the branches of a bush. The yellow flowers within, now stained red.
The knife was brought up, over his stomach. The metal that wasn't stained with his blood gleamed. He tried to call out, to thrash and kick, but he was helpless as his limbs were entangled. The killer plunged the knife into his stomach, the heavy blade piercing him straight through.
Blood began to well from his belly, as well as pour out from his back as the killer stabbed him over and over, skewering him again and again. His body ravaged, the trickle that had started from the blood pouring from the wound in his crotch, soon became a deluge. It rushed out from under the bush, red and thick and trailed its way down the slopes, ready to be absorbed to nourish the flora that bloomed there.
Zoe stubbed out the cigarette amongst the flowers and immediately lit another. Her legs were still trembling and she wanted to be calm and back in control by the time Anton got back.
A cute, dark-horse Satanist. Now wasn't that something else. Of course she had him pegged (and would have him pegged, if she had her own way... and she would). He wasn't the real deal, just someone trying to get a rise out of society, but they were the best kind, weren't they? The angry and brash. Easy to rile up and bend to her own whims. Not in a cruel way, obviously, but she did enjoy the mind games that came with dating someone... O.K., maybe in a cruel way.
But they had to push back. There had to be some fight in them, otherwise what was the point? Anton? She could see herself pushing his buttons until they would nearly come to blows, get him good and riled before they'd end up ripping each other's clothes off and working out their frustrations wherever they fell. He had made a foolish mistake by admitting his hatred of Bryan Adams to her when they were sitting on the riverbank. That was a good one, she was sure she still had a CD of his back home too.
So long as he didn't change to try and placate her. If she wound up with “Philly 2” on her hands she'd be likely to top herself. That kid made her so mad at times. She was convinced she had been cursed to have every man in her life turn into a complete pussy.
Of course she hadn't helped. Getting drunk and admitting she loved him. She did, of course. Just not in the way he wanted her too. Perhaps something might have happened, if he didn't immediately become so dependant. But now he was more like a yapping pet dog she felt obligated to feed and dote on every now and then. His passive aggressive hints that they should date being the turds she had to scoop up with a newspaper every morning.
The cigarette burnt down between her lips as she dozed. She was picturing a new jewellery line for her online shop. A range just to annoy Anton with. Satanic iconography but with an ironic bent to it. A normal crucifix touted to be “doubly inverted” thus “doubly blasphemous”. A sigil of Baphomet but its runes would spell out “LOVE”. Maybe a-
A screech rang out. She sat bolt upright, it didn't sound human. She knew there were pigs somewhere in the valley, and that is what it had sounded like. The cigarette dropped from her lips and fell onto her breast, burning her just besides her tattoo. She answered the inhuman shriek with one of her own,
'SHITTY DEATH!' she hissed and licked her thumb, applying it to the singed flesh. She scrambled up, messily getting her clothes back on as her fingers shook from the fright.
She slipped on her boots, and called out.
'Anton? You there? Anton?'
His clothes were still bundled besides the indentations they had left within the bluebells. She considered picking them up before heading out to look for him, but figured the clearing would be easy enough to find again. She followed Anton's trail, the leaves and twigs haphazardly snapped and bent where he'd trampled them. She followed him down the steep, natural steps that had been carved into the earth.
It was quiet. She hadn't noticed before, what with the
ir laughter and talking and... other noises. What had happened to the birds and creatures that serenaded them so sweetly before? Besides the distant river, she was the only one making noise and that frightened the hell out of her. She could not help but feel like any loud noise on her part would alert some kind of predator, deep within the woods. She saw it speeding towards her, roaring as it came, bounding over fallen trees and dodging rocks until at the last moment she'd turn around, too late, and the evil force would barrel into her.
'Get a grip!' she spat. Too many Evil Dead movies, she figured. 'You're smarter than this.'
Though her sense of hearing felt like it had been cranked down, her sense of smell was still being overloaded by the scents the woods brought: The fresh sap, the earthy thickness that came with fresh soil and... the strong, acidic reek of ammonia? She pulled a face. She was close now, Anton was probably trying to pull some dumb prank. She braced herself for him to jump out at her, and sure enough as she scanned the trees that surrounded her, she checked her rear and there he was. A few meters away, hiding behind a tree dressed head to toe in black.
'I see you, asshole,' she called out with a smirk. 'This another one of your silly little “Satan” games?”
Purposefully, she marched towards him and caught another smell. To her right, something was lurking in the bushes and the stench was strong and all too familiar. It was Anton. His face, turned upside down from where he lay on his back, gazed up at her with cold, open eyes as blood soaked into the earth beneath him. She recognised that odour now, how could she have ever forgotten it? His body was red and slick, dark, gaping cavities dotted his burst abdomen. Zoe screamed.
The figure behind the tree, whoever it was, stepped out and extended an arm. In it was a long boar hunting spear. The tip was winged, ideal for causing maximum damage and would prevent the unlucky victim impaled on it from freeing themselves. The shadow gripped it with both hands and began to advance.
Death Head Valley Page 6
