Forest of the Damned

by Lee Mountford

  He knew that James was still in danger inside the church, if he wasn’t already dead. But Ken also realised that there was absolutely nothing he could do to help. He was overwhelmed. There were simply too many of these things—both out here and also inside.

  And it was all part of the game, one where he and the others had been pawns. Pieces moved across the board at the whims of something above them. From the very start, the group had been toyed with and shepherded as needed, positioned like puppets by this Mother Sibbett and her master.

  Ken realised that James was meant to be inside of that church right now. And, apparently, he was not.

  Which, as Roberta had stated, gave him a reprieve, and a chance to perhaps escape from the madness—as long as he was prepared to leave James behind.

  Was that something he was willing to do?

  Ken reacted. He turned to his right and ran, sprinting as fast as he could away from the town, the church, and the demonic crowd, moving quickly out into the forest.

  Clearly it was something he was willing to do: to leave behind a friend and colleague in order to save himself. Ken felt an immediate and heavy shame at his selfishness, but he did not stop.

  While running, he looked back over his shoulder, expecting to see those things following him and appearing right behind him again, somehow both frozen in time yet still gaining ground.

  That was not the case. He stopped and saw that the church door was open and the townsfolk were filtering inside in their unnatural, shifting manner. Roberta did not move, instead choosing to remain still, staring over to Ken. She was smiling. Only when the last of the entities around her disappeared inside of the old stone building did Roberta finally start to walk inside as well. Though as she did, Roberta kept her eyed focused directly on Ken and gave him a wave.

  ‘See you soon!’ she shouted before the heavy door swung shut behind her.

  Ken was motionless, physically shaken at what had just transpired, unable to fully comprehend it. Roberta was one of them now. James had been right. And if James wasn’t already dead, then he would be soon, likely sharing a similar fate to Tony.

  One Ken would also share if he didn’t act. That realisation gave him a much-needed kick, and Ken turned and once again took off running.

  He picked no particular direction, however, his only concern getting as far away from that village as he could, leaving behind the things that resided there.

  Things, he knew, that would be coming for him soon.

  As he ran, Ken thought of James again, the man he’d left behind. A fresh wave of guilt swept over him.

  You’re useless, he thought to himself. Incapable of saving anyone. First Tony, then James, and now Roberta, who was lost to this madness.

  You couldn’t even save your own daughter.

  What chance did he really have of saving himself? And as the air burned in his lungs, he had one other question he struggled to answer.

  Was he even worth saving?

  29

  James slowly opened his eyes as he regained consciousness.

  For a fleeting moment, he was in that state of complete unawareness where the mind had not yet retrieved the last of its memories, and he did not fully understand where he was or the situation he was in.

  It was a blissful ignorance, but one that was all too brief.

  Then it came crashing back to him. All of it: trying to flee the church. Being overcome by the shambling monstrosities within. The door closing in front of him, with Ken’s horrified face being closed off. The pressure James felt as he was overwhelmed by those things. And, just before losing consciousness as his breath was cut off, the stark notion that Ken had not returned to help him.

  As the room around James came into focus, he realised he was still in the church. The candles were lit once again, casting their eerie glow, and through the slight gaps in the boards over the windows he could see that night had fallen. And that meant he had been unconscious for a number of hours already.

  Things only got worse as it became immediately clear he was lying on the floor, completely bound. His arms and legs were splayed out to his sides like the Vitruvian Man, and he was tied by his hands, wrists, neck, and waist to a frame of thick wooden poles, all held together by twine and rope. From his limited view, James saw that the central column of the frame consisted of multiple shafts bound together, forming a thick column that ran the length of his body—from above his head to below his feet. From this central section, other thinner rods sprouted, at roughly forty-five-degree angles, supporting the splay of his arms and legs.

  Despite his struggles against it, the star-like frame was far too sturdy to break, and James’ bonds were too tight for him to wriggle free. He was stuck, unable to escape and—to his horror—completely naked.

  And he was not alone.

  Even though Ken had abandoned him, there were many other things present, and he screamed at the sight of them.

  The undead monstrosities that had first been prone and displayed in disgusting positions before writhing to life were all there. They were motionless again, as they had been when James had first set foot inside, but they now stood around him, standing vigil, watching with glinting eyes.

  Others were present, too, but were different. Though they were fully clothed, they didn’t seem any more human and had twisted, nightmarish faces, and expressions that yearned for him. At the centre of them all, however, was someone else. Someone he knew. The sight of her there amongst all of the madness was almost too much for him to take.

  It was the woman he loved. Or at least she used to be. He wasn’t sure what she was anymore. She certainly looked a lot different now—a shell of her former vibrant and beautiful self.

  ‘Roberta!’ he shouted, hearing a pathetic pleading tone in his own voice. ‘What’s happening?’

  She took a step forward, carrying an expression that bordered somewhere between lust and hate.

  ‘Best not to talk,’ she said in a horrible, gravelly voice. ‘No one will listen. And nothing can stop what is going to happen to you. She wills it, and therefore it will come to pass. But I will say this…’ Roberta knelt down beside him, holding up a dirtied length of once-white material. ‘If you let yourself relax, there is a chance you might get some enjoyment out of this. At least, to start with.’

  ‘Please let me go,’ James whimpered, but Roberta just tittered and caressed his cheek.

  ‘That isn’t going to happen. But, luckily for you, we do get to have a parting present. One last expression of passion before you make your journey. So, if I were you, I’d give myself over. Enjoy what you can… while you can.’

  She then moved beside him, to her knees, with the length of material in one hand. James understood it to be a blindfold, and she hovered it above him as her other hand made its way down to his crotch. James’ body locked at her gentle touch—her hands ice cold—and he let out an involuntary gasp.

  ‘Please, Roberta, I’m begging you,’ he said. His voice cracked as tears started to come.

  ‘Oh,’ Roberta replied, leaning in closer still. ‘You haven’t even started to beg yet. But you will.’

  Roberta then took a firm hold of his penis and gave it a squeeze, before rhythmically massaging it with her cold palm and fingers. She giggled again and James felt his own body betray him as his dick began to stiffen. He couldn’t understand how that was possible given the terror that surged through him, as well as the physical condition of Roberta herself. She now looked far beyond just being sick. She instead appeared to be at death’s door.

  Or, more accurately, she had already crossed the threshold.

  And yet, with her confident manipulations, she was able to turn him on, at least part of him—the part that counted—while in the middle of the nightmarish situation.

  ‘Roberta, stop,’ he said, trying to sound forceful but failing miserably. James writhed and squirmed within her grasp in an attempt to move his groin away from her playful, mottled hand, though his efforts were useless. Jame
s still felt so weak that he doubted Roberta even needed the restraints to overpower him.

  ‘You know,’ she said as she worked, ‘we actually know very little about sex and desire. We might think we do—humanity has an arrogant way of thinking it knows everything—but we don’t. However, Mother Sibbett and her chosen few have found a way to take our carnal urges and use them in a much more meaningful way. Because, as it turns out, we were right about this place—you, me, Ken, and Tony. We were right about the Black Forest. There is something here. Something far older than we can imagine. Mother Sibbett was the first to serve this great, old power, and because of that, she was granted insight. And she was able to spread a new Gospel, an inversion to God and Christ, only it was something far more real. And one of the ways it was done was by indulging their most basic desires. Did you know that? We just give in to our most depraved urges, instead of stifling and hiding them as we’ve been taught in life. We need to become one with ourselves, our real selves, not the acts we put on in front of others. The masks we wear need to slip away to find true enlightenment.’

  Roberta’s hands started to work faster, causing James to shift uncomfortably in her grip again. She briefly stopped, but only long enough to wrap the blindfold over his eyes, as she had the night before.

  Yet again, James tried to fight, this time to move his head out of the way, but the bond around his neck made that impossible.

  ‘Let me go, Roberta,’ James pleaded again. With the blindfold secured, James’ vision left him in complete darkness, but he heard excited murmurs fill the room from the demonic audience.

  Roberta continued her teasing, still keeping him unwillingly erect.

  ‘Are you ready?’ she asked him.

  30

  Ken’s body was a fire of aches and pains.

  He sat on the still-wet ground, his back propped up against a fallen tree, and tried desperately to catch his breath. Night had now set in, reducing his visibility drastically, and he had an unshakable feeling that there were things out there in the dark waiting for him to wander close. And it terrified him.

  He’d pushed himself as hard as he could all day, not stopping once, keeping up as fast a pace as possible. However, such effort over an extended period of time had truly taken it out of him.

  After fleeing the town—leaving James to his fate—Ken had run for about fifteen minutes straight over the rough and uneven terrain, putting as much distance between himself and that God-forsaken place as he possibly could. It was only then that he changed direction and bore back towards what he thought was the edge of the forest—the same direction they’d all been going before those things had shown up and stopped the group in their tracks.

  But, in reality, Ken had no idea if he was heading in the right direction or not—his bearings were shot. He was so disorientated that even using the compass left him unsure of the correct route. He still had his backpack with him—given he hadn’t taken it off all day—which included his tent and provisions. But now, as he sat struggling to catch his breath, Ken considered ditching some of his gear. He’d need to keep his food and water if he had any hope of survival, of course, but his tent and sleeping bag… were they really essential?

  Ken had no plans to stop and sleep that night, not after what he’d seen earlier, regardless of how tired and exhausted he felt. Instead, he aimed to push on, continuing until he broke free of the forest or his body failed him and he dropped—whichever came first.

  Indeed, there was no way he could sleep now anyway, not after Roberta’s warning that he was running on borrowed time. She, and the forces that she seemed to have aligned with, would be coming for him as soon as they were done with James.

  If they weren’t already.

  The guilt at leaving his friend—and at his own cowardice and selfishness—never left him, weighing on his psyche. He couldn’t get the thought of James’ shocked expression from his mind, the one he’d seen just before the door of the church closed and James understood he would be left behind. On some level, Ken knew that he could have done nothing to save his friend. There was no way he could ever have gotten that door open—Lord knows he tried. But even if he had, that only meant he would now be inside with James and the horrors that had filtered in with Roberta.

  But shouldn’t he have at least tried? Even sacrificed himself in an attempt?

  While Ken was aware that survivor’s guilt was a thing, he knew this was different. For one thing, he hadn’t survived yet. And for another, he knew that this whole thing was his fault. He’d brought them out here to meddle in things that they had no business being around.

  His past experiences with Tony and the others, and even before when he’d investigated on his own, had been nothing, he now knew. If anything supernatural had taken place during those searches, then the events were so fleeting and minuscule as to have been inconsequential. However, though he had always demanded hard evidence, in truth every little thing had given him hope and fuelled him in his quest for the truth.

  But now, after experiencing the Black Forest, it put everything else into perspective.

  Ken had started the whole Paranormal Encounters endeavour with a yearning to understand if there really was a life after death. Because he so dearly needed to know there was more to this existence than this fleeting life.

  Well, he had his answer now, but what the Black Forest had shown him was not what he’d hoped for. The afterlife, at least here, seemed a place of nightmares and never-ending torment of the soul.

  Was this the kind of existence his little girl now experienced? Was all the afterlife reminiscent of the horrors he’d witnessed here?

  Or was this place somehow different?

  Ken forced his mind back to more immediate concerns and slipped off his rucksack. He pulled the tent free, including the supporting poles, and also discarded his sleeping bag, leaving them in a heap on the ground.

  If Ken did need to rest in the coming hours, then he would just have to drop and sleep where he fell. Because if it came down to it, and he wasn’t out of this forest by the time his legs gave out, then he knew he would never leave.

  After shedding the items and equipment he’d deemed to be excess weight, Ken heaved himself up to his feet and trudged on, walking into the darkness while hoping he was heading in the right direction.

  And he prayed that he would break free of the forest before the demons that lurked turned their attention back to him.

  31

  Excitement permeated throughout the room as the things that watched James started to intensify their murmurs and groaning. He could only hear them, given his ability to see had been cut off, but he noticed that the sounds grew closer, and were accompanied by shuffling.

  They were closing in.

  Roberta released her grip on him, leaving James alone, feeling horribly exposed as he still lay on the floor, bound to the frame. Giddy wails then emanated from the gathered crowd, becoming louder and more aggressive. James tensed up, not knowing what to expect, and detected movement over him.

  Roberta, he knew.

  James then felt the girl mount him, slipping herself onto his engorged penis, forcing herself down. He groaned in discomfort, her rough dryness making the motion uncomfortable. Roberta then began to gyrate as a foul smell assaulted him.

  James knew that Roberta had changed—both physically and mentally—but the decaying smell that completely engulfed his senses proved just how much her former self was now lost. This thing that sat atop him was something else entirely.

  It was one of them—if not entirely, then it was very close.

  Roberta’s thrusting soon began to increase, getting faster and faster and rubbing James raw as he fought against her. However, given how dry and coarse Roberta’s sex felt, the friction became intensely painful.

  ‘Stop!’ he screamed, drawing more noises of approval from the watchers around him, who all seemed to take glee in his protests.

  A hand then covered his mouth and pressed hard over his lips
. The surface of the palm—while cold—was different than what James had expected; it didn’t feel like skin, as much as rough, scaly leather. The hand then moved, and he felt a finger dip into his mouth, plunging into his throat, causing James to gag. Again, the finger that violated him did not seem normal, as when his lips involuntarily clenched around it the digit felt thin, almost skeletal, and far too long. James then felt a long nail scratch at the back of his throat, and he began gagging and coughing more severely.

  Undeterred by his fighting, Roberta continued bouncing atop him, her motions becoming quicker and more frantic. And despite the pain he was feeling, her movement was somehow still keeping him excited, driving him towards a climax.

  How can I get excited at this?

  It was maddening that his body could betray him so much, that his libido could still hold firm in the face of such disgusting horror. Finally, the finger pulled free of his mouth, and James turned his head to the side. Instinctively retching he purged the contents of his stomach across the floor.

  ‘Let me go!’ he demanded after he’d finished, trying to sound more assertive this time. But it did no good—he knew it wouldn’t. They were not going to let him go. His girlfriend—the woman who rode him at that very moment—wanted him dead, served up to nightmarish demons.

  The noises around James—excitable grunts and groans of the crowd, who seemingly approved of the gross act they were watching—continued to rise. Roberta, however, made no sound at all as she continued to sexually assault him. She didn’t even seem to be breathing heavily, which was a stark difference to the previous night when she had been incredibly vocal.

  He felt Roberta lean closer to him, shifting her position while still keeping him inside of her. James felt her face hover above him, and suddenly felt her mouth on his.

  Her tongue invaded his mouth, thrashing around inside and lapping at his own, before pushing farther in. The appendage was withered and shrivelled, feeling like a crusty vine… and it kept going, wriggling down into his throat before slowly drawing back and then dropping once more, the length of the thing completely unnatural. Roberta’s mouth was pressed tightly to his, but James could feel no lips, only gums and teeth. He fought desperately, fearful of choking on the probing tongue, but could do nothing to resist. Tears flowed freely as James could only lie there and accept what was happening to him.