Pocket Wilderness & Other Horrors

by Jason Ingolfsland

  Kenny's dead eyes stared off into the distance. He took in every word his brother said.

  "Anyway, that's partially why I brought you out here because we never do anything together, but also," he stopped, hesitating if he should continue. "I wanted you to know that I love you."

  Confused, Kenny's eyes sharpened. He questioned his sincerity.

  "Look, I know that sounds weird, but I wanted to admit that I regret how I felt before and I should have been a better older brother. I was selfish and stupid. We aren't going to get to do much when I head off to college, and I guess I panicked. I know you hate this stuff, but I didn't know where else to say all of this, and honestly you need this, too. Books are great and all, but its good to get out and experience life, right?"

  Kenny, still unsure what to say, nodded and smiled. He did like the scenery. Thousands of trees blending together with the different hues of orange, yellow, and red covering the rolling Appalachian Mountains took his breath away. It was a true bird's eye view of the landscape. He saw Tennessee in a different light, and it felt good to feel tall, powerful, and on top of things rather than small and scrawny like a little mouse desperate to escape the world.

  "I want to do a tradeoff, okay?" Brandon continued. "When we get back, we'll do what you want to do. Deal?"

  "Deal," Kenny said, smiling. They shook hands and Brandon pulled him in for a quick hug. They hadn't hugged since they were little boys. It felt weird to Kenny, but it was a good kind of weird. He'd take it. "Does this mean you're going to stop picking on me?"

  "Not a chance," he said, shoving a handful of potato chips in his mouth.

  As their lunch ended, they decided to hang out a little bit more and enjoy the scenery. Kenny read a book, leaning his head against his pack. The crisp, fresh air and the wilderness backdrop was perfect for reading. Brandon didn't do much but hang his legs over the side of the cliff and enjoy the view.

  Hours passed and Brandon began to put his things away in his pack. "Let's get a picture before we go, okay?"

  Kenny nodded. They stood with their backs against the scenery. Brandon took his smartphone out and raised it in front them. He set the timer and they smiled. Click. He looked at it. It was perfect.

  "Can you send that to me?" Kenny asked.

  "Sure, I'll email it, if I can get reception up here."

  #

  "Well, ain't that a sweet little Kodak moment, if I 'ver saw," said a man with a southern drawl coming from the base of Buzzard's Point. He was a tall, skinny man with a crew cut and defined cheek bones. He had sleeve tattoos, many of which were Neo-nazi symbols, confederate flags, upside down crosses, and pagan imagery. Wearing a tattered denim jacket and denim jeans, he put a cigarette in his mouth, flicked open lighter with a Nazi symbol, cupped his hands over the cigarette and lit it. A puff of smoke billowed out of his mouth and nostrils. He held the cigarette to his side.

  Kenny stiffened and glanced at Brandon to see what they should do, but he looked equally as scared which wasn't a comforting sight.

  "Whoooo boy!" the man exclaimed, laughing like a hyena. He had gums black as coal and one gold tooth that stuck out like a lighthouse at night. "Milledge and Junius, y'all see their faces? I reckon they turned white as my Uncle Andy's fat ass!"

  They didn't laugh. They merely stared at them with stern, serious faces.

  Brandon stood and said, "What do you want?

  "I declare," he mocked holding his right hand to his breast. "Where are my manners? The name's Addison. This here big fellow is Milledge. He used to be a man of the cloth once upon a time, didn't you, Milledge?"

  Milledge slightly nodded. He was the tallest, and the largest man among them. He had a dirty, white t-shirt on with black jeans. Bald with a long black beard, he had no tattoos. His devilish smirk made Kenny uncomfortable.

  "Anyhow, this strapping young buck here is Junius," Addison said. "Junius fought in Iraq and Afghanistan. Keepin' this country free fer the likes of you and me from 'dem Alkaydas."

  "Look, we're not looking for any trouble. We're just out on a hike and will be on our way soon," Brandon said.

  "Don't interrupt me, boy," Addison snapped, a little brown spit came out of his mouth. His sharp eyes turned to normal and he continued to talk. "Me and the boys here just wanted to int'duce ourselves. Tell me, boy, what side did your ancestors fight in the War of Northern Aggression?"

  "What?" Brandon asked confused.

  "North or south? Which side?"

  "Look, I don't-"

  "North or south? It's a simple question, son," Addison pestered. He took another drag from his cigarette.

  "Neither. My ancestors immigrated here after the war."

  Addison hawked up a big loogie and spit a long stream of black saliva out of his mouth and onto the ground next to him. He licked his gums and stuck the tip of his tongue against his top lip. "Immigrants," he said sharply. "You legal, boy?"

  "Are you serious?" Brandon asked.

  Addison's dark glare was answer enough.

  "Yes, we're legal."

  "I bet them ancestors of yours weren't. What are you a mick? A Jew? Did your great grand-pappy bring his slimy spawn over here to taint this great land, son?"

  "Excuse me? You better-"

  "What?" Addison barked. “I better what!" The fury in his eyes and face twisted and tightened Kenny's stomach into knots. He felt the urge to burst into tears, but he did his best to fight them back.

  Brandon's eyes grew wide. He took a few steps back. Kenny remained frozen and unable to speak. Addison continued to stare Brandon down for a few minutes until suddenly he burst out into laughter. The others didn't laugh.

  "I'm just shittin' you!" he exclaimed, slapping his knee. "If only you could see your faces! Priceless!"

  "Just leave us alone, okay?" Brandon said finally.

  Addison licked his gums again as he stared at Brandon. Silence hung over them like a scythe hungry for flesh.

  "He made darkness his secret place; his pavilion round about him were dark waters and thick clouds of the skies," Milledge said, his wicked grin coiling. He pointed to the sky. Grey storm clouds stretched out off near the horizon as the sun descended.

  "Looks like it be gettin' dark, and dem clouds look like a bitch. Hate to be caught in those, most especially at night," he said flicking his cigarette on the ground, stomping on it with his boot and twisting back and forth. "Welp. We best be on our way. Nice to meet ya'll if only for a brief time."

  His coy smile was the last thing Kenny saw before they turned and walked back into the black of the wilderness.

  "Brandon," Kenny said, his voice trembling.

  "Shut up," he hissed.

  "I want to go home now," Kenny continued.

  "Just," he said loudly, but lowered his voice. "Be quiet a minute, okay?"

  Kenny nodded.

  Brandon hunched down and tilted his head as if to listen a little closer. Kenny couldn't hear anything except the wind and the rustling of the trees. Brandon kept listening for at least five to ten minutes before he went to his pack and looked through it.

  "What is wrong?" Kenny whispered.

  "We're going to have to make camp," Brandon said.

  "What? We don't have a tent."

  "I brought a small one, just in case."

  "There's a storm coming. Why don't we just run home?"

  Brandon stopped looking at his pack, tightened his jaw, and puckered his lips. His eyes looked elsewhere until they stared straight at Kenny. He leaned forward as close to Kenny as he could and whispered, "Because, they're still out there. They're probably watching us right now. And I'm afraid if we leave, if we take one step off this platform, we're dead."

  "Are you pulling my leg?"

  "Does it look like I am pranking you?" he asked. His fierce eyes didn't release their glare. He was serious.

  "I don't know," Kenny shrugged.

  "Listen, I've heard about guys like this. There are guys who like to just mess with your head and there
are guys like that who are so royally deranged you don't dare tango with them."

  "But won't they just come up here and kill us?"

  "We're pretty high up here. We'll take turns keeping watch, but I'm sure the storm will scare them off. If we stay put, then there's a chance we can sneak off in the morning and be rid of them."

  "Brandon, this is the dumbest idea ever. We have to go home now."

  "Listen, you have to trust me on this, okay?"

  Kenny bit his lip and released a heavy sigh. He looked away, thinking through the probability he'd die that night, but his brother was older than him and he wasn't going to walk back through the woods by himself, potentially getting lost, or worse, being murdered.

  "Fine. I'll trust you."

  #

  The storm clouds billowed like smoke from a house fire. They growled as Kenny and Brandon uncomfortably scrunched inside a small tent. As the darkness intensified, Brandon turned on a flashlight and laid on his back. Kenny was forced to lay on his side because it was too small for the both of them.

  "Won't Mom and Dad be wondering where we are?" Kenny whispered.

  "Probably," Brandon shrugged. "But will they care? Let's be honest, they checked out a while ago. Us being out of the house will be a breath of fresh air for those two."

  "You're probably right."

  "I know I am."

  "I don't think I can sleep tonight." Kenny sighed. "This whole thing freaks me out."

  "Don't sweat it. We're safer up here than we are out in those woods."

  Thunder roared above them, shaking the ground. A bolt of lightning cracked as it stretched its fingers across the blackened sky for mere seconds before vanishing into nothing.

  "Do you think it is going to rain?" Kenny asked.

  "I don't know. Do I look like a weatherman to you?"

  "Just asking," he replied.

  Brandon released a groan from the back of his throat and said, "Just get some sleep. Tomorrow morning we'll have some granola bars for breakfast and head home."

  It rained that night. Hard and heavy torrents whipped their tent in all directions and since it wasn't water proof, the walls bled water, running down the sides and dripping on Kenny's face. He only got a few hours of sleep, but it felt like he was awake the whole night. The fear of being attacked by Addison persevered. He couldn't shake the evil that emanated off of them. Their chapped lips. Their dirty, grimy hands. The look of malice on their faces. All of it flashed in his mind the moment he closed his eyes. Too dark to read, he lay wrapped in his sleeping bag, shivering from the cold and looking into the dark, hoping he'd pass out eventually. A twig snapped to his left and he jerked, twisting his frightened face toward the noise. Controlling his breaths to try to better hear another potential sound, he sat petrified of what might be outside their tent like a squirrel sensing danger. He wanted to run so bad, but he knew he couldn't. Trapped in my own tent, he thought. When a few minutes passed, nothing happened and he didn't hear another noise. He soothed his nerves by taking long breaths and telling himself it was nothing. Absolutely nothing.

  #

  He woke completely enveloped in his sleeping bag. The sound of birds chirping woke him up. Brandon was outside swearing under his breath and digging around in his bag. Kenny exited his sleeping bag like a butterfly from a chrysalis and released a big yawn. The sun's light gave him a sense of hope again as if the worst was over and he and Brandon could pack everything up and head home. He unzipped the tent and slipped out, lifting his arms high in the air to stretch. The morning warmth invigorated his senses and made him feel invincible, ready for whatever the great outdoors had to throw at him, but his shoulder and neck still felt achy and stiff from sleeping on the ground.

  Brandon sat cross-legged in front of his pack with his cell phone in his hands. He looked off at the horizon with despair on his face.

  "What's wrong?" Kenny asked.

  "My phone got wet. It's dead."

  "Holy crap. Seriously?"

  "Yeah, dipshit, seriously."

  "So, what does that mean?"

  "Are you braindead?" Brandon asked, standing up to face his brother. "It means I just lost two-hundred dollars and we can't call anyone. So, if those lunatics come back, we're screwed."

  Kenny took a step back and frowned. He didn't expect the sudden retaliation from his brother. "I don't think they're coming back," he whispered, looking around. He didn't believe a word he said.

  "Well, I'm not waiting around to find out. Let's pack up quick and get out of here. We'll head back the way we came."

  The trek back pained Kenny even more than the way there. He struggled to keep up with Brandon whose fiery determination to get home wouldn't be denied. Frequently, Brandon called back for Kenny to pick up the pace, but it wasn't happening. He didn't have the strength. Of course, it helped when they descended a hill, but going up put Kenny's will on trial.

  They went down a sharp hill when Brandon abruptly stopped, shifted his feet, and swung to hide behind a large oak tree. The terror in his eyes made Kenny's heart sink and his tongue and fingers go numb. What did he see? Putting his finger up to his lips and jerking his head twice to the left as if to say, get the hell off the path. Without hesitation Kenny obeyed and found a bush to hide behind. It occurred to him then that Brandon must have seen Addison and his boys, but he prayed it wasn't true.

  Loud footsteps grew even louder, approaching Kenny. Kenny bent over, bit his fist, and mumbled prayers that he wouldn't get caught. A hand grabbed his shoulder and he looked up. It was Brandon, but the look of terror only made things worse.

  "Get up," he said, hissing. "We can't go this way."

  They ran up the hill, turned with the winding path, and kept up their quickened pace despite gravity's weight bearing down upon them. Fear of getting caught, of getting murdered, pushed the adrenaline through Kenny's veins. The pain searing up his legs didn't matter anymore. All that mattered was getting as far away as possible from Addison. Just run. He told himself. Just run.

  He tried not to look back. In fact, he kept this eyes fixed on Brandon and his pack, but once he looked to his left and saw Junius down a ways, tracking them.

  Out of panic, Kenny tried to come up with ways to escape, but nothing came except running deep into the woods and hiding. He fought with himself over whether or not to bring it up to Brandon. It never did much good to argue with Brandon about anything. He was a stubborn old mule, and Kenny knew any ideas he had would be quickly refuted and treated as garbage. Regardless, he felt going into the woods and hiding might be the best way to evade them. He had to talk to Brandon about it.

  "Brandon," Kenny said, huffing and puffing as he ran. "Maybe we should get off the path for a while? You know, go into the woods and hide. I think-"

  "Don't be an idiot," Brandon said.

  Here we go, Kenny thought.

  "It's too easy to get lost in those woods and never come out again. Besides, chances are they know these woods better than we do and could track us easily enough. We have to stick to the path and get home as quick as possible."

  "How do we even know there's a way back? They're blocking the path back to your car."

  "They have trails all over Pocket Wilderness. We might not be able to get back to the car, but maybe we could get find a road and wave down a car, or maybe find a house and ask to use their phone. Something. I don't know. Besides, you never know, we might run into a hiker that could help us out." Brandon glanced back at Kenny and smiled.

  Kenny nodded. "Yeah, you're right. Do you know any of the paths going this way?"

  "Yeah, I know a few." Brandon didn't sound confident, but Kenny shook it off, clinging to hope.

  #

  After they passed Buzzard's Point, Kenny figured they walked for five hours with no relief in sight. They took breaks whenever it felt safe, ate the rest of their food, and had a canteen half full of water. Kenny hadn't seen any sign of Addison and his boys, but still felt on edge that they'd appear at any moment. He
just wanted to be home, safe and sound, with it all behind him. Sometimes as they trudged down the path, his thoughts would wander and he'd imagine himself being an old man, rocking in a chair, and telling his grandkids about the one time he faced a horror in Pocket Wilderness. I'll survive this. I'll survive this. He kept saying that, sometimes mumbling it out loud, to motivate him.

  "Okay," Brandon said," I don't know if I can go any longer. I say we camp around here for the night, maybe go find some berries for food, and continue in the morning."

  Kenny's mouth dropped. "What? It's not even evening yet. We can't stay here another night, Brandon."

  "Look, I'm exhausted. I'm sure you are, too. We keep up this pace and we'll both pass out on the trail. You put up the tent and I'll go look for berries and some water."

  "Are we lost?"

  "No," Brandon said with a sigh. "At least, I don't think so. I don't know. I feel like we're on the right path."

  "How about we walk for another hour at least and then I'll give in and camp."

  Brandon twitched. Given any other time and such defiance from his little brother wouldn't stand, but he didn't have the strength to fight back or make Kenny do anything. He looked down the path to contemplate the idea of another hour walk. He released a deep sigh and nodded.

  "Okay. One more hour."

  Forty five minutes passed. Kenny leaned against a tree and a wave of despair overcame him. We're never getting out of here. Their exhaustion had gotten the better of them. Brandon looked slightly delirious, sitting on a hollow log. He wiped his sweaty face and breathed heavy. Kenny didn't know if he'd have the strength left to put a tent. His arms and legs felt like putty. He was two seconds away from bringing it up when a figure off in the distance came from around the path and stopped dead in his tracks. Too tired to feel afraid, Kenny thought it might be Addison, but this man's countenance didn't match.