Pocket Wilderness & Other Horrors

by Jason Ingolfsland

  "Please," I muttered. "We're on our honeymoon."

  "Oh, we know," said the leader. His voice was crisp and melodious. "It makes it sweeter that way. Take the girl first.”

  “No!” I yelled.

  Two of them came forward and pulled Samantha away. Mascara running down her cheeks, she wailed and struggled, yelling at them to stop.

  "Don't touch her!" I said, growling. I got to my feet, charged at one of the men, and knocked him down, but then something hard bashed me in the back of the head and everything went black.

  My hand shook in the trunk of the car, the flashlight jilted. My chest felt cold and my heart still. I couldn't imagine what I was about to see. I guided the beam, its eye moving across the wall of the trunk, until it illuminated a white dress.

  I swallowed hard and looked at her body. Her skin was purple. I peered over and saw her face. It was my worst nightmare. It was Samantha. I desperately shook her.

  "Samantha! Wake up!" I called, but she didn't respond. I broke out into horrified and melancholic tears, weeping against her back, calling out her name over and over. I'm not sure how long I cried, but when it was over, her dress was wet from my tears and I continued to lay my head against her, praying that she'd be brought back.

  It was quiet in the trunk. I didn’t want to hear myself caterwauling anymore. I just wanted silence. But, then, my prayers were answered. I swore I heard her make a soft murmur. I sat still to hear closer. She whined a little. I leaned over to see her face again. Her nose wiggled. My heart leapt out of my chest. Moments before I called her name, I caught a glimpse of the emergency hatch.

  "Sam," I said, "are you okay?" I noticed her face and neck were drenched in blood.

  She groaned and her eyes opened. "Vincent?"

  "Oh my god, I thought you were dead!” I exclaimed and hugged her cold body.

  "Something smells good," she said in a scratchy voice.

  I laughed. "What? The gasoline or the burnt tires?"

  "No, baby," she said, sweetly this time. She looked up at me with intense, hungry eyes. "It's your blood. I can hear it pulsing. I can smell it." She purred. “It smells so good.”

  Without notice, she pushed my body against the back of the trunk. We came face to face and she opened her mouth. Her eyes were dark red and her teeth sharper than razors. She smiled slightly and cooed.

  "Time to be one flesh,” she breathed.

  "No! What are you doing?"

  She grabbed my head and jerked it to the right, stretching my neck muscles and exposing my veins. She was stronger than a bull, but out of pure instinct I smashed the flashlight against her head. It stunned her for a moment and I was able to get to the emergency latch, but a sharp terrible pain came at my leg. I screamed and looked behind me to find her teeth had sunk deep in my calf. She released, her mouth bloody, and said, "I’m so hungry.” The blood gushed out of her mouth as she smiled. She resembled a feral cat hunting her prey.

  I pulled on the latch and the trunk door swung open, unleashing a wave of sunlight down upon her. She wailed like a banshee, covering her face with her arms. Her flesh began to boil and bubble, peeling and sliding off her bones. She slumped down and curled up into a ball, shrieking from the pain, begging me to stop.

  “Please! Vincent! Don’t do this to me!” She exclaimed.

  I couldn't stand the sight of her suffering. It was too much to bear. I cried as I looked at her. What have they done to you? What have they done?

  I couldn’t take it. Abruptly, I swung the trunk door back down and the darkness swallowed us. I lay perfectly still. I wasn’t going to be without her. It was quiet for some time. She whimpered and breathed, but then she was silent.

  She nuzzled my neck. "I knew you'd see reason."

  "I love you," I said flatly.

  "I know," she replied.

  “I’m so sorry they did this to you,” I said.

  “Shhhh,” she said, breathing in my ear. “It’s okay now.”

  Her jaw opened wide and clamped down on my neck, sinking her teeth into my blood vessels. I felt the blood leave my veins and I groaned and convulsed as the life left my body.

  The Theater

  I'm a lonely man. It hadn't always been that way. A few years back my friends and I frequented the theater. It was our temple, our sanctuary, our place to connect. As time passed, I remained, going to the theater as we always had, and they drifted in the distance, either getting married, or getting sick of me, or both; you take your pick. It didn’t happen all at once. I kept showing up, hoping one of them would be there, but they never came. "Jerold, seriously, I hate to break it to you man, but you’re really boring. Go skydiving, get a girlfriend, something. Anything. Live your life. Live your life," Tony said. It was the last thing he said to me. I couldn't help but play his words on repeat in my mind, smacking me in the face over and over again.

  You’re an idiot, Jerold.

  You have to let it go, Jerold.

  We brought you along because we felt bad for you.

  The theater made the bad thoughts go away. I pinned them to the screen and attached them to the characters. Their feelings were mine, and mine theirs, but distant and numb. Safe and sound in the theater. The projector’s glow siphoned the sorrow.

  I entered the theater and approached the ticket desk. A blonde girl sat behind the counter reading a red hardcover book. It looked like it was written in the 1800s, but I wasn't a bookish type so I didn’t know. She had white milky skin, green eyes, and braces which I thought was weird for an adult, but whatever. Since I came to the theater often, I saw her most days, but never knew if she really recognized me or not. I figured she had, but she probably saw hundreds of people a day.

  "One ticket, please," I said.

  Irritated, she took her green eyes off the book, and turned to the computer. "Three dollars,” she said.

  I pulled out my old, black wallet. It was torn and worn at the edges. I set down two crisp bills and quickly dug inside my pants pocket for change. I had three quarters, two dimes, and a nickel, plus a few pennies but kept those.

  Glancing down at the money on the counter and back at me, she had a disgusted look on her face as if touching the money would be the equivalent to cleaning a toilet with her bare hands. I smiled regardless, not out of spite but because I found her attractive. Even if she was cruel to me, I wouldn’t return it.

  Dude, get a girlfriend.

  She took the money, printed a ticket and tore it. I took the ticket, held it up, smiled, and said, "Thank you." Her head already buried in her book, I frowned and lowered my head.

  Get a girlfriend, Jerold.

  I stood, awkward and unsure what to say to her to get her attention, to get her to notice me. Fright and flight instinctually ran through my veins, but I fought it. I needed to talk to her.

  She lowered her book and gave me a smug look like she wasn’t in the mood.

  “Can I help you?” she asked.

  Be my girlfriend.

  “Is...is that a good book?” I asked.

  “Uh, yeah.”

  “Looks old.”

  Her uncomfortable smile and lack of eye contact should have been a clear signal to me to back off, but I didn’t care. My desperation numbed my emotion.

  “What’s it called?” I asked, leaning against the counter.

  “Pride and Prejudice.” The irritation in her voice scratched against my pride. She wanted nothing to do with me. I felt it in my bones. I’m a nice guy. Just give me a chance.

  “Ah, romance, right? Have you read it before?”

  “Yeah, like five times.”

  “Wow. That’s like way more than I’ve ever read in my life.”

  She chortled.

  Surprised by her laugh, I grinned.

  “You’re not a reader?” she asked.

  “No,” I said, scratching the top of my head, messing up my already disheveled hair. “I’m more of a movie person, I guess.”

  “Clearly,” she said, flashing a brief
but welcome smile.

  “You like movies?”

  “Not really. This is just a job.”

  “Oh, come on, you don’t like any movies?”

  “Nope. Not a movie person.”

  “I don’t believe it,” I said, noticing my overreach, but continued anyway. “You should come with me sometime.”

  “Yeah. Sure.”

  “Really?” I said, taken aback by her quick response.

  She paused a moment and my heart sunk. It occurred to me she might only be pulling my leg. I didn’t know how I’d handle her rejection. I felt like a Jenga tower with all my bricks pulled out from underneath.

  “Yeah, why not?” She wrote down her number and slid it over to me.

  I tried to keep my composure. “Okay, well, how about this Friday I’ll pick you up.”

  “Perfect.” She smiled. “Well, I better help out the person behind you.”

  I turned. “Oh, yeah! Of course,” I said, laughing awkwardly. “I’ll call you later.”

  “Sounds good.”

  I walked a few steps and I realized I didn’t even know her name. I spun around and came up to the desk, interrupting the customer she was helping.

  “Hey, sorry, but I don’t know your name,” I said.

  She tapped the name tag pinned to her maroon polo. It read Candace.

  “Candace,” I said. “I’m Jerold.”

  “Cool.”

  “Well isn’t that sweet,” said a balding, middle aged man with three of his daughters pulling at his shirt. “Can I get my tickets, please?”

  Candace tucked her blonde hair behind her left ear and blushed. “Of course, sir.”

  I snuck away, feeling both elated and embarrassed.

  The theater was a small, one screen cinema with one movie playing every week. The movie playing was no matter to me. I watched whatever they had available. The carpet was red, black, blue, and white with diamond designs. As I walked passed the lobby, I glanced over at a man at concessions. He was thin as a rail with thick black hair, and a gaunt face. He would fit right in at funeral home. The small concession booth had one popcorn machine and a soda fountain. The counter was usually filthy with popcorn remnants, soda stains, and straw rappers covering the surface. No one wanted to work at the theater and those that did everything they could to do as little work as possible. Most days I ordered a popcorn and soda, but this time I refrained, not from lack of desire but because I have only three pennies and a few chunks of lint.

  I reached the red rope where a short, stout woman sat on a tall stool. I gave her my ticket and she tore it in half. She smiled and said, “Theater one. Thank you for choosing Royalty Cinema.”

  I held the other half of the torn ticket, raised it up and flicked my wrist ever so slightly to acknowledge the exchange. I didn’t recognize the woman, but she seemed to recognize me for some reason. Why did she have to say theater one? It’s the only screen they have. I walked passed her, went to the double doors to the very left, pulled on the long wooden handle and entered.

  The room was partially lit with a red carpet leading all the way down to the screen. The red carpet’s white lights were not all illuminated, some dead like an old set of Christmas lights a dead beat dad refused to replace. Torn and frayed, the carpet hadn’t been replaced since the 70s. I walked passed the sea of empty chairs, and then stopped in the middle, wondering which place would be the ideal spot for me this time. I never had one place that I always sat, unlike like some people. I switched it up and took different angles, knowing a movie can be enjoyed at any location. This time I went to the back left of the theater. When I entered the aisle of chairs, my feet stuck to the ground and crunched each time I took a step; they hadn’t mopped the floors in years. My seat was virtually untouched, but the seat next to it had yellow stuffing and a spring hanging out of the side.

  I was alone, but I was also early. The pre-show hadn’t even started on the screen. I liked being the first person in the theater. I imagined for a moment no one came and I would have the whole place to myself. How wonderful to have the entire theater for me and me alone. Of course, people would come eventually, and that dream quickly dashed.

  People trickled in one by one as time went on; the first was an elderly couple holding hands. They went closer to the middle front. Another couple entered, but they were middle aged. The husband marched in front trying to find prime real estate while the wife followed like a puppy dog carrying a giant bucket of popcorn. Huge groups of families came in with little kids surrounding the parents, begging for more candy and popcorn. The teenager couples were always the last to enter the theater; they snuck in back and snuggled up immediately. Great, I thought. I get to be near that. Maybe I picked the wrong location after all.

  Right before the movie started, I was awestruck by a gorgeous, tall brunette stepping into the theater to my right. I did a double take, but tried not to act like a creepy guy who couldn’t stop staring. She wore a red dress that hugged her hourglass curves. Her brown locks partially covering up her face and curled all the way down to her breasts. I couldn’t get over her full, pouty red lips and chocolate brown eyes. She glanced over at me briefly, smirked and blushed, combed her hand through her hair and continued walking. Did I make her blush? I wasn’t the most unattractive guy in the world, but I couldn’t remember the last time I made a girl blush. She was radiant, walking down the aisle, and I wasn’t the only one who couldn’t take my eyes off of her. I had never seen her at this theater before, and frankly I had no idea why she would be there at all. Did she not have a date? Just as I thought that, a tall man with a chiseled jaw and slicked black hair came through the doors and swiftly went down the aisle to find her. He sat next to her and kissed her on the cheek. I rolled my eyes. Of course. Then I remembered Candace and smiled. I already have a date.

  As the lights dimmed and the projector started, I settled in and got ready for the movie to start when the double doors abruptly opened. I turned by instinct to see the person walking through the door though I wasn’t sure why. I mean, it’s not like I would know the person in the first place, right? But when I saw it, when I saw the figure who walked through the door, my mouth dropped and I felt a slimy, uncomfortable dread slither up and down my skin. A man entered, but he didn’t look like a man at all. Right before the last beam of light revealed his face and then extinguished into darkness, I thought I caught a glimpse of the devil himself. I couldn’t believe my eyes. I didn’t believe them, thinking they were playing tricks. Nevertheless, what I thought I saw was like this: He was a foul monster with hair all over his body and a gigantic mouth with sharp teeth that curled at the ends of his lips. His grin covered more than half his decayed and bloody face, and his lizard eyes glanced around the room for a moment. Within a blink of an eye, as the light left, his appearance changed to a frail old man with a cane. Naturally, I shook my head, rubbed my eyes, and looked again. But the light of the movie was too frail to reveal what I thought I saw before. The old man’s hand trembled, clutching the cane for dear life. He took his time down the theater aisle. The beam of light from the projector flashed a multitude of colors, allowing me to watch the old man. Did my eyes deceive me? Were the shadows playing tricks on my brain? My eyes wide and fixed on him, I couldn’t help but wonder where he would sit.

  He took the seat behind the woman in red, making my heart pound inside my chest even harder. Why would he choose that spot? There were so many different seats. It’s fine. I’m just seeing things. That’s all. Relax and watch.

  A quarter of the way into the film, I watched two teenagers make out a few rows ahead of me. They kissed like they had never done it before, sloppy and zealous. It was boring, but no one was doing anything else. You wouldn’t think people did much in a theater when the movie was playing, but you’d be wrong. It was subtle body language. A man’s arm slowly creeps over a woman’s shoulder or an old man gradually nods off to sleep. I loved the talkers; people whom, despite all social rules to the contrary, couldn’t hel
p but talk through the entire movie. They were the best people to watch.

  The screen flashed bright white and my hands clutched the side of my seat as I glanced over and saw the old man lean forward and coil his frail old finger around the woman-in-red’s brown locks. He pulled away suddenly and put the tip of his finger to his nose. The exuberant grin on his face made my stomach sick. I could feel my brow perspire and my hands clam up. Why wasn’t anyone saying anything? Did no one see that?

  I took a deep breath and calmed my nerves. It’s okay. It’s okay. I’m over-reacting.

  I decided I had to get a better look at this guy. I crept down the darkened aisle and got as close to them as I possibly could. The closer I got, the more bizarre things became. I watched as his hand lightly caressed the back of her head. People surrounded them but no one did a thing. It was like they couldn’t see him. To my surprise, as the screen flashed again, I saw a black figure hovering over her body. It descended, sat on her lap, and nuzzled up against her neck, licking and biting it. She didn’t notice as its long, snake-like tongue slithered around the nape of her neck and wrapped around her throat. Still, no one noticed. How was this possible? Why was I the only one that could see this? Was I going mad? I bit my lower lip and watched at an angle. I had to do something. I had to stop it.

  I stood up and casually walked down the aisle and out the door. The movie’s music erupted into the quiet lobby and then hushed as the door closed behind me. I went up to the rotund woman sitting on a stool.

  “Excuse me,” I said.

  She eyeballed me like she didn’t want to be bothered. “Yes, how can I help you?” she asked.

  “There’s a man in the theater touching people inappropriately.”

  She stood up from her seat. “What? Are you serious?”

  “Yes,” I said, nodding.

  “I’ll get the manager.”

  I breathed a sigh of relief. Finally, someone would put a stop to this. I followed behind her and she took me to see the manager upstairs.

  The manager looked to be in his late twenties with short blonde hair, a mustache, and a pot belly. For a second I grew nervous, thinking he’d just call me crazy and to take a hike.