In Darkness (Black Acres Book 4)

by Ambrose Ibsen

  Julian sighed, dropping his phone into his pocket. The Beacon estate had been built on something, alright. Just what, he couldn't say for certain, except that the mysterious chamber in the cellar was possibly a throwback to this previous abode, its only remaining vestige.

  The Reeds, perhaps, had messed with something they didn't understand, had disturbed some centuries-old status-quo. And then, when the two of them had seen their end, Julian and Kim had moved in like idiots, completely unaware of what they were getting into.

  He'd learned a good deal about the place's history, but Julian was not particularly happy for the knowledge. More and more he wished to return to a place of not knowing, to a pleasant, soothing ignorance.

  Too late for that, he said, looking about the living room. The shadows seemed to deepen somewhat as he did so. Maybe it was just a trick of the sun as it peeked behind the clouds, but then... maybe it wasn't. The day will be over before you know it. You have to get looking if you want to find her.

  He paced into the kitchen, his gaze drawn to the window. Through it, he saw the dense, black woods looking back at him. He grit his teeth and tugged on his waistband. “Do you really think she could have gotten off to the woods?” he mused, frowning.

  There was only one way to know for sure.

  Chapter 6

  Julian stalled a considerable time in setting out, taking great care to dress warmly and to make certain that he'd procured everything necessary with which to make the trek through the uncharted black woods. When all was said and done and he found himself at the threshold of said woods however, he brought with him only an axe, a flashlight and the clothes on his back. The reasons were obvious; he'd much preferred to busy himself around the house, searching for things that might prove useful, but finding none that could assuage for him the frightening prospect of exploring the nigh-endless rows of leafless trees.

  He held his breath as he entered the woods.

  Why he'd thought it wise to carry an axe he couldn't really say; he was, after all, searching for his wife here. After a time he justified the choice, recalling what he'd just learnt of Edwin. Maybe, Edwin was planning something. That he was not on Julian's side there could no longer be any doubt. Then again, it seemed unlikely, with every uneasy step, that he should meet anyone in these woods. Everything seemed pristine in its grimness, the forest floor comprised of dull, untrodden soil and the dark trunks offering nothing of value to his search. Of these bleak surroundings Julian did his best not to ask himself too many questions. There was no accounting for the dearth of wildlife, for the darkness that seemed to hang about the acres perpetually and which, though he hadn't much voiced it in the past, had always unsettled him. To “live near the woods”, he thought, was considered an enviable thing. But these were not mere woods; no, the unnatural growths that flanked his property were as charming as an ancient graveyard and every bit as solemn.

  His grip on the axe relaxed as he pushed on. Now and then he would stop to listen, though for what he couldn't say. If Kim was out there, would she call out to him? Was she in a position to call out to him at all? He chuckled, his face crumpling into something of seasickness, and surveyed his immediate surroundings. It was important for him to keep his head on his shoulders, to remember what he was doing out there. Julian was looking for his wife.

  His dead wife.

  That Kim could have possibly fled into the woods, or that she would if she'd been of sane mind, was unthinkable. But other options were vanishingly scarce. Unless she'd been literally absorbed into the stuff of the house, then Julian had no choice but to search, far and wide. There was something strange, something terrible afoot; he felt it now, could point to certain distressing details in the framework that told him it was so, despite his usual reluctance to put stock into supernaturalism. Still, people didn't simply “disappear”; he knew that much. Missing persons always ended up somewhere, and it was ridiculous to suspect, no matter how much his unconscious mind seemed to dwell on the notion that she'd been sucked up into the sinews of the old property, that she'd been spirited away into nonexistence. She was here, somewhere, in the physical sense. And he was going to find her. Perhaps she was dead, perhaps she was alive; his memories of the previous night seemed to indicate the former with utter certainty, but he was open to any and every possibility.

  “Kim,” he said under his breath, pushing on with heavy steps, “if you're out there, then give me a sign.”

  No sign came. The silence waxed oppressive, with only the passage of the breeze against the myriad trunks offering anything in the way of distraction to his ears. He fancied himself held captive within an enormous woodwind instrument, could hear an almost imperceptible piping and fluting as the wind wormed its way between ebony trees. No birds dared to cry out, if in fact there were any in the area. Though he scanned the sky numerous times, he saw none fly over. Even the birds know to avoid this area. But not you, no. You had to go and buy this goddamned house, didn't you? Up above, the sky seemed smoky, dark. There wasn't a leaf to be seen, but still the light that reached him felt filtered somehow, as through an invisible canopy of great density.

  Julian was more than an hour into his trek when his legs began to tire. He'd gone through the woods aimlessly, hadn't bothered to track his route and hadn't yet arrived at any border. It would not have been inaccurate to call him lost, though he put little thought into the matter at the time and simply went on, albeit more slowly. The scenery had seeped into him, had colored his thoughts with their moroseness. She's gone, he thought to himself, his ordinarily bright eyes dimming and narrowing at the idea. It felt foul to even consider it. You should get out of here while you still can. Shit happens out here in the middle of nowhere. Kim is gone. But you... you're still alive. Get out now, while there's still time.

  Sighing, he set down his axe and leaned against one of the trees. Rifling through his pocket, he unearthed a crushed pack of smokes and lit one up, the first drag warming him throughout and lending him a little sense. “If I don't find anything today, I'll report her missing with the authorities. That's all there is to it. It'll have been twenty-four hours, then. I won't have any answers, but...” Another drag. He closed his eyes, shook his head.

  He circled the nearest tree, eventually putting his cigarette out against its bulk and ambling on a bit further. The axe swayed in his hand, the blade bumping up against numerous trunks before he finally took to dragging it behind him. This, he noticed, created a thin but noticeable trail in the soil that he could trace back. He thought it a shame that he didn't do it from the very beginning; that way, it might've been easier for him to find his way out.

  Tracing his route as he went, the thin line in the earth winding behind the blade of his axe, Julian sought out his wife. He craned his neck around every tree, looked up towards the sky to survey the bald treetops, squinted into every distance he could perceive.

  Nothing.

  There was simply nothing out there.

  Trees erupted from the sandy ground as far as the eye could see, and between them there lingered only threads of shadow. Sometimes, when peering through the morass, he'd startle himself, thinking he'd seen a shifting black form behind one of the trunks in the distance. But, upon further inspection, it would prove to be just another tree, the next in an endless series. How many miles he'd walked, how many hours he'd been out, he couldn't guess. He peered down at his phone, but noticed that the screen wouldn't turn on. He tinkered with it, pushed all of the buttons multiple times, but could not get it to start to life. Perhaps the battery had died. Judging by the cold that enveloped him and marked his fair cheeks and nose with rosiness, he'd been out long enough. He could continue in this fashion for days, he knew, and never find anything. And as he turned to retrace his thin trail in the soil, he couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of it. This had been a fool's errand, through and through, something he'd taken on in the vain hope that he might find Kim alive. Sentimentality, a sense of duty; it'd been these things that'd so compell
ed him to take action, any action. In the end, however, it'd been an enormous waste of time.

  Julian followed the line he'd left behind with his axe, his pace quickening and the light overhead seeming to become dimmer and dimmer. He knew it couldn't possibly be so late that the sun was setting, and yet with every passing minute the woods seemed to spare for him less and less in the way of light. Not wanting to spend time in the woods after dark, or to be stuck there in the midst of a storm, he trudged on as quickly as his tired legs would allow, stamping alongside his trail and hoping that he might soon wander out. After having spent so much time in the barren woods, even the silent house was appealing to him.

  Julian noticed the first mark some minutes into his return trek, but thought little of it. It wasn't until he'd discovered the second, and then, shortly thereafter, the third mark in the soil, that he stopped in his tracks and appraised his trail in earnest.

  Glancing this way and that, he looked first to his trail, and then to the others, similar in design, that seemed to join with his own from other directions. He gulped, wiped a bit of cool sweat from his brow, and then dropped to one knee to further examine.

  He'd traced a line in the soil with his axe in the hopes of following it back to his earlier position in the woods, but here, inexplicably, were a number of other such trails in the soil, which had been joined to his own. He'd seen three so far, almost as if others had come upon his trail from other positions in the woods. The other lines, which terminated in his own, had not been made by an axe; what had made them, or why, he couldn't muster a guess. He cocked his head to the side, pondering for a time what it meant. These other, unfamiliar lines, stretched on in other directions for a great distance, but both ceased upon joining with the line he'd carved. “It's... it's almost like someone came upon my trail and then decided to follow me.”

  His breath was caught in his lungs as the notion crossed his mind, and he was immediately made aware of another presence in the vicinity. It was not so close that it could reach out and touch him. At least, not yet. But it was close enough to incite in him an almost overwhelming sense of dread. Eyes, foreign eyes, were upon him. Someone in this dense sea of black trees was watching him, he was certain. He hadn't come upon anyone in his journey and hadn't noticed any presence up until this point, but the awareness was now gaining momentum at an exponential rate. He looked over his shoulder, glanced frightfully about himself.

  Maybe it was just a trick of the wind, like before. The occasional piping and whistling of the breeze had distracted him, covered up this other noise he now fancied he heard, perhaps.

  Footsteps, a harsh shuffling against the earth as of bare, calloused feet. Subtle, and yet gaining in volume with each passing moment until there could no longer be any doubt.

  Julian turned around and looked far into the woods at his back, at the distance he'd covered in the past few minutes. Creeping unsteadily upon the trail he himself had blazed only moments before, was a shadowed, vaguely humanoid form.

  The longer he looked at it, the more certain he became that the shambling thing was not just another tree. His spine lit up with a series of icy shivers. His eyes had tracked movements, dark shapes, in amongst the trees for much of his hike, and his peripheral vision had betrayed him more than once. He'd told himself that they were merely trees, but perhaps they hadn't been trees at all.

  He'd been pursued.

  The thing that now met his gaze from a distance was undoubtedly human in shape, though it crept, or rather, crawled, on all fours like an animal might. It went slowly, pale white hands smacking at the earth and face completely obscured by a turbulent mane of sheer, black hair. Of its body Julian could deduce little, though as the thing began approaching in earnest, its speed tripling in a matter of moments, he could see more of it. The limbs were spindly, long. Unnaturally so. It wore not a scrap of clothing, appearing positively feral. The bone-white color of its flesh gave the impression that it had never before seen the light of day, and even from this distance it could be heard to loose wheezing, persistent grunts for its exertion. Scrambling towards Julian, the thing's limbs shot out to the sides, and its bulk was carried deftly forward by each lunging motion. It was shaped like a human, walked like some brand of legless centipede and snarled like a stray dog.

  Julian had seen all he needed to see. Before even the first hideous cry sounded, filing up the quiet woods and stunning him, he'd taken off. The axe and flashlight were cast aside as he thrust himself forward through the woods. Just where he was headed was uncertain; at some point he lost sight of his makeshift trail. It didn't matter. All he wanted was to separate himself from the thing. Its cacophonous vocalizations, its scampering between the trees made the woods come alive all around him. His jarring pace made it so that his periphery was crowded with doubtful shapes, not all of them, he was quite sure, mere trees.

  He'd heard these sounds before. Yes, emanating from the woods at night; this thing had once spooked them terribly. He'd written it off back then as an animal, as something natural. That this thing that now trampled up behind him was an abomination there was no longer any doubt. The sound of palms smacking against hollowed trunks as the creature propelled itself towards its prey resounded in those quiet moments when it was not engaged in its primal, monstrous cries.

  There was no sense in looking behind him; that the thing was hot on his trail he knew instinctively. This thing had had a hand in Kim's disappearance. She'd been right to fear it the night they'd first heard it, had been right to fear the house and all of the things that had bothered her about it. She'd been right after all. About everything. He had precious little time to lament this, however; from close behind now he could hear the soupy, labored breathing of the thing and could smell something indescribably foul. The air was being sucked from his lungs as he sprinted, only to be replaced by spoilt, noxious gas. His chest burned, his heart skipped a beat.

  To slow, even a bit, was to be caught within seconds.

  But then, a change in the scenery.

  The woods ahead were clearing; he was on the verge of breaking through.

  The sight of open grass, of the paling blue sky gave him the energy he needed to plow through the remaining trees. His muscles, near the point of cramping, were rejuvenated by the sight, and he took off with yet greater speed than he'd hitherto mustered. Racing into the field, his heart fluttered.

  The house.

  He'd found his way back! He'd managed to go the right way, to return the way he'd come despite his frantic, unmapped flight out of the woods.

  Julian thundered across the field, keeping his eye on the goal and not stopping to turn around. He could no longer hear his pursuer, was unsure whether the thing dared to leave the boundary of the woods. Heaving himself through the knee-high grass, Julian found himself treading familiar ground. He was at the fire pit now, the back door.

  He was inside the house with the door locked behind him in the next instant.

  Falling to his knees, panting, Julian stared down at the kitchen floor with wide eyes, his face red and dripping with sweat. His body shook and he wasn't sure he'd ever be able to stand again. It would have been easier, probably, to just lay down and wait for his strength to return. But, after a few moments, he braced himself against the wall and slowly inched his way up.

  You made it, he thought. It was unbelievable. That thing... that's what killed Kim. And that's what was responsible for her disappearance. What... what did that damned thing do to her?

  Limping across the kitchen, he leaned against the sink and craned his neck to peer through the window. Though it probably could have caught him had it so wished, the monstrosity had let him go. Why? Maybe, he thought, it could only exist in the forest, or could only leave the woods after dark.

  This theory was crushed immediately as his tired eyes scanned the back yard through the window.

  Standing near the fire pit, perfectly upright, was the long-haired abomination that'd pursued him. It stood completely still, black tend
rils of hair draping its bare, androgynous body. And from this inky tangle could be seen two large, dead eyes, tinged with a putrescent yellow hue. The thing was staring, could see him through the window, no doubt.

  Julian fell back onto the floor and scurried into the living room on hands and knees.

  As he did so, he thought he heard something like a laugh issuing through the house on a gust of wind. It was soupy, wheezy.

  Chapter 7

  No one knows you're out here. You're a sitting duck.

  Julian sipped at his whiskey, but couldn't keep his hand from shaking long enough to get a decent taste. He'd paced about the house a while, first calling out to Kim, then palming the phone and debating on whether or not to call 911. The thing in the window had gone when finally he'd rummaged up the courage to check, but that it hadn't wandered far he felt somewhat sure.

  Evening was descending now.

  He'd chosen not to call the police; short of dragging him to an asylum, there was nothing any officer of the law could do for him. The things that followed and haunted him throughout the property, if they were real at all and not mere hallucinations brought on by worry, were not things that could be harmed by bullets nor restrained by laws. Julian knew it, and saw at once the futility in involving outsiders. Under the circumstances, with his wife missing and his sanity slipping away by the moment, he knew exactly how it would look to them upon their arrival. He'd be suspected of foul play, would end up in a prison cell without any hope of setting things straight.

  Sitting on the sofa, huddled beneath a mass of blankets with his whiskey in hand, he realized his current predicament didn't exactly foster progress, either. He was frightened, almost to the point of paralysis. The wind outside had picked up, could be heard to howl across the land, and it rocked the old house violently. In the drafts, which sometimes carried about them traces of dust from his kitchen renovations, he half-fancied he caught glimpses of specters, and would instinctively brace himself against the sofa as though it were an impenetrable wall; grip his glass as though it were a whiskey-soaked talisman.