The Uninvited (Book 3): The Unwelcomed

by mike Evans

  “What is there another guy up here? You got a little fuck buddy up here in the woods you keep around? We got company coming back here? It's all right if we do, because Moon there’s going to stick around and dig you a nice hole, where no one is ever gonna find you. After that, he’s going to keep a real good eye out for whoever the Devil is and stick a few bullets in their ass. I hope they are as stupid as you. Because this was about the easiest damn thing we’ve ever had to do.”

  Paul started bobbing his head back and forth. Ramsey took a handful of his thinning gray hair and nodded to James. “You go on in and see if there ain’t something warm in there we can use to help get this nice old man’s attention back.”

  Moon went inside, noticing there were two cots, and that there was more than likely a good chance that someone was out here with him. He grabbed a metal coffee pot, burning his own hand lightly in the process. He set it back down and selected a fire poker that had been resting. This time, he was smart enough to use a small mitt, so he didn’t burn his hand. Moon came back out, holding it in front of himself for them to see.

  Ramsey took the cloth and the poker. “You still alive there, old man? I wouldn’t want you leaving without enjoying a little more of what you dished out. I mean we got a bona fide celebrity here! Think of all the money we are saving taxpayers. We couldn’t just kill you though, that wouldn’t be fair to all your victims.”

  Ramsey took the poker and rested it on Paul’s cheek until the smell of burnt flesh was all that the men could smell. James and Schmidt both held their mouths, looking like they were going to lose what they had eaten that morning. Moon leaned over, whispering, “You know, he does have a second cot in there. It might be smart if we do keep someone out here with him. We don’t want to have to worry about someone with a vendetta coming back for us. You think he’d tell us?”

  Ramsey knelt down, patting Paul’s head. It had not taken long for a cold sweat to break out on his head and neck. “You got any problems, sir, if we have one little question for you? I want to know if there’s anyone coming here? We going to find anyone if we do stay here? You lie to us, and I promise that the poor bastard who you are protecting is going to regret ever being born.”

  Paul could just barely be heard. “The only one coming here is the Devil.”

  Ramsey patted his face and slid the knife into his chest slowly. Paul’s face distorted as fresh blood began to pour from his mouth. Ramsey said, “I’ve been called a few names before, but I don’t think I’ve ever been called the Devil. I’m hoping that I will have some years ahead of me before any of that takes place though. Guess I’ll see you in hell, old man.”

  Paul’s eyes grew glassy as life slipped away from him. Schmidt said, “Given this man is basically the most evil fucker, apparently, to grace the world, I’d say that we probably did a good thing, right? I mean, we aren’t going to get judged too hard by God, now, are we?”

  “Well, if he does judge us for this, it’d be hard to understand why. Given, the torture could probably have been skipped, but you know, I’m not going to lie, it was a little fun. I don’t think that I could do it on a daily basis, but I can see a bit of the infatuation with it, I guess,” Ramsey said.

  Moon checked his pulse, nodding. “So we want to bury this guy and everything he has here? If we take this cabin over, do you think we are going to have to worry about anyone?”

  Ramsey stood, wiping the knife blade on Paul’s pants. He looked around the clearing, questioning the North Woods. “It’s been closed—the woods, that is—for years, right? Ya’ll think Zeke had a purpose in closing these off? Around the time he closed them off was right about the same time that the drug dealers all started disappearing from around here—or at least, it was when they stopped cooking in town. Zeke only had a bunch of junkies left over.”

  “So, you worried about Zeke making his way out here?” James asked.

  “Shit no, he ain’t coming out here. He’s old as fuck, he couldn’t make it this far if he wanted to. He doesn’t own a four-wheeler, he’s got his house for sale, and Laughlin keeps saying he’s not going to be a threat; that he’ll be out of here as soon as he’s done. You think he has something to do with the woods being closed?” Schmidt asked.

  “You know, it’s looking like that. But if he’s leaving, I think that we’ll be okay. Don’t you worry, if he sticks around after he finishes his time here, then we’ll go after him too!” Ramsey said.

  The rest of the men nodded. James rose his hand as if he were at school. Ramsey nodded and said, “Yes, James, what is it, son?”

  “Well, it’s just that I was wondering if you think that your brother-in-law is going to have any issues if we went after Zeke. Are you gonna let him know that someone was up here? I know we are kind of—or I guess, you are kind of—business partners with him. Are you going to be able to get him to understand?”

  “He’s not going to need to understand shit, because that’s exactly what we are going to tell him. If he thinks that we are fifty-fifty partners, then you let him keep thinking that. What we cook and what we sell are two different things. As far as this pissant goes, we did the world a favor. He knows how important having a safe cook spot is, and he isn’t going to go out of his way to ruin that. He was the one saying cook only meth and don’t worry about moonshine.”

  James nodded, looking around the clearing. “So, uh… we going to get out of here, now that we know we got a spot?”

  Ramsey asked, “What you in a rush? You got something better to do, or are you scared?”

  “You see that his innards are now on the outside, well, yes, I got a little problem with that. Because quite frankly it's all kinds of fucked up. I don’t know if you have all forgotten there’s two cots. Two sets of clothes. Lots of doubles,” James said.

  “Well, I was going to take Moon and Schmidt with me, James, and leave you here to babysit the site. You wouldn’t want me to leave someone in your place, so that you didn’t get to stay up here and protect it for us do you? You might be able to take care of the man or woman that is staying here with him,” Ramsey asked jokingly.

  “You’re a comedian, boss. Yeah, I’d say there are others better suited to stay up here. I can’t shoot great, and I don’t like being out by myself, it isn’t that-”

  Moon put a hand to the back of his neck, gripping it tightly and pulling James front and back before letting go and smacking him on the back of the head. “I’ll stay here, Ramsey. It’d be nice to grab a nap. More importantly, I could keep my ears free of any more dumb shit coming out of James’ and Schmidt’s mouths. I'm not going to lie, that doesn’t sound all that bad. I’m not scared of the boogeyman, either.”

  “Hey, just because I don’t want to stay out here by myself, doesn’t mean nothing bad about me, nor what I'm saying. You can play with your mask out here if you want to.”

  Moon was looking at it and shaking his head no. “Nah, that thing gives me the fucking creeps. I’m putting it back in the cabin.”

  “Bullshit you are! That thing is going to come back with me; that’s a damn trophy. The four of us did more in one day, than the FBI has been able to do in like, five years. When we got time to empty this place out, I'm framing it in a glass box. It’ll be my prized possession,” Ramsey said. “Moon, you take care of our new little cook place and get rid of the body. You doing that for me won’t be any issue, right? You won’t be fucking around?”

  Moon shrugged. “No booze, no woman, no drugs; it’d be right hard for me to do anything before you and the others get back. Besides, I can get a hole knocked out and throw him in it. Just make sure you bring a four-wheeler back the next time, so we don’t have to keep walking in and out of here like little bitches. It’s probably the one thing about this spot that is going to be the hardest.”

  Ramsey patted him on the shoulder and walked off to wash his hands. “Hold down the fort. We’ll be back later. If you got any problems—well, you’re in the middle of nowhere, sorry about that.”


  Moon set down his rifle, giving the three of them the finger as they disappeared over the hill. He went around the side of the cabin, looking for a shovel, hoping there’d be one. He was not about to dig a hole big enough to put this guy in with a stick, if he could avoid it.

  Chapter 14

  Matt’s hands hurt from the axe handle. He chopped at a downed tree until his muscles felt like fire. He was picturing his father the entire time. Matt wasn’t stupid; he knew this was all temporary, and that the first moment he had an option to leave and not have an angel on his shoulder, he’d be fucking out of here. He thought he heard the echo of screams as he chopped, but he was so far into the woods, he didn’t know which way it was even coming from, or whether he was finally losing his mind and his demons were coming for him.

  He’d spent an hour working in the woods each day with his axe. The winters were brutal, and the firewood supply needed to be fully stocked to keep the small cabin tolerable. He’d seen his father suffering on cold nights as he’d grown older, and even when he felt like he wanted to snap his neck, he could still overcome it to want to keep him comfortable.

  Matt threw a large pile into his pack and wrapped rope around two additional bundles so that he could carry as much as possible. He didn’t cut the trees remotely near the house, because there was no reason to with so much to pick from. The trees they cut were far away because they wanted to keep the heavy cover under the canopies from helicopters, and they helped with line of sight for people working their way through the woods—given that ever happened again.

  Matt hiked for a few hours, knowing where he was at every second. He stopped when echoes of singing came from the hill as he got closer. He knew that it was not his dad, because he’d never heard the song before, and he didn’t sing. Hell, for the most part, the man was as quiet as a monk who’d vowed silence. His dad had very little emotion and did not rejoice in happiness like most, not that Matt could say anything.

  Matt saw Moon standing on the side of the hill working with a shovel. Matt’s stomach dropped at the thought of what he could be doing, or for that matter why he was digging a hole in the middle of nowhere. Matt scoured the side of the woods, keeping a distance, wondering if his dad was just tied up somewhere, or by some off chance he had gone wandering, looking for Matt. He walked slowly, watching the man closely, until he saw his father’s feet sticking up into the air. He walked to the side of the hill so that he was out of the stranger’s view. When he got up close to his dad, he choked on a scream, slamming his hands onto the ground. He looked at his mask sitting next to him and instantly wondered if, by chance, these men knew what it meant, and if they had decided that he was the man it belonged to. Matt did not feel guilt very often, if ever. It was just not something that he experienced often in his life. He took the mask, sliding it on, and took hold of his axe.

  Moon was still singing with his back to Matt. He walked up slowly, seeing the man had his gun resting on a tree nearby, safety off, and he could only assume it was fully loaded, since he had not heard any gunfire throughout the woods. When Matt was within twenty feet, he stepped on a branch and it snapped, echoing. Moon stopped shoveling at once and looked at his gun, thinking firmly about the fact that something else might be out there with him.

  Moon slowly turned around in the ever-growing shallow grave. He first looked at Paul, seeing that he was still there, but the sick feeling grew as he realized that the mask was not there. He looked in the opposite direction and found the mask, and the biggest damn man he’d ever seen in his life walking towards him with a mission. He screamed, “Who the fuck are you?”

  When The Stranger didn’t answer, he got out of his grave, tripping and clawing his way up onto his feet. He scrambled across the ground for his rifle, abandoning his shovel. Moon could feel fear and hope at the same time as he got a hand on the barrel. That hope faded quickly as a whistling noise came from behind him. He turned to see what it was, but it was too late. A pain which he had never before experienced raced through his hand. He screamed and the wildlife reacted—birds took flight and flew through the trees, off to where they deemed it to be safe.

  Moon dug his hand into his stomach, trying to find a way to hold it that did not throb. He could feel blood making his plump belly warm. Tears filled his eyes and visions of crimes that had been reported done by The Stranger filled his mind.

  Moon reached to his side using his non-dominant hand to get his pistol, but Matt was ready for him. Moon tried to spin and aim the handgun, but Matt brought down the hatchet’s blunt side into his skull. He held back, as much as he wanted to split the man’s head open. He could tell that there had been more than one man; he knew that his dad even old would not be that easy to take on.

  Moon’s eyes rolled into the rear of his head and he was on the edge of passing out. He could feel blood slowly making the top of his head soaking wet. The other thing keeping him from going under was the throbbing in his hand. When he looked up to his right hand, he could see his ring and pinky finger dangling. Matt, without a second thought, took hold of them and ripped them from his hand. This brought Moon back around. “Oh my fucking god! Who are you! Who are you!” he screamed.

  Matt pulled the man’s belt from his pants, putting it around his ankles and binding them. Moon watched as the canopy of the trees passed by his eyes as he faded in and out of consciousness. The day’s bright sun shot through in streaks between the leaves.

  “Why won’t you say anything? You aren’t going to have a chance when my friends come back, you sick fuck. I swear to God, you don’t even know how dead you are, motherfucker. That old man, was he yours? Did you know him?”

  Matt stopped pulling him, turning around and hovering above the man. “Did he have any last words? Did he at least get the respect of saying something at the end?”

  “Yeah, crazy fuck said that the Devil was coming. He just kept saying that we should cut our losses, because we are going to hell, and that the Devil was coming for us. I don’t know what in the fuck he was talking about; sounded like a fucking loon. We were doing the world a favor getting rid of him.”

  Matt knelt down even further until he was directly over the man. The mask’s nose was touching Moon’s. “He was doing you and everyone else in the world a favor. You just unleashed something that has been locked away for a very, very long time.”

  Moon—who was just barely able to stay coherent—had to ask. “Are-are-are you him? Are you The Stranger?”

  “I don’t go by the newspaper titles. My dad called me Son—Matt—but now, he won’t ever call me anything again. He was the one keeping me up in the woods, helping me deal with my demons.”

  “You were what he was talking about when he said the Devil was coming, weren’t you?”

  Matt didn’t answer. He took the leather belt in his hands, and continued to drag him the rest of the way up near the cabin. He tied his hands behind his back and left the belt around his feet. Moon began to cry as the pain in his head intensified. Matt picked up his dad and carried him back down near the hole, where he took his time digging a grave.

  He looked up to Moon, shaking his head. He’d rolled on his side so he could see what was happening. He knew that something bad was coming his way, but had no idea what it was. The blood had slowly continued to seep out of his head until he got to the point that he was finally able to pass out.

  Matt laid his father to rest, looking at his body, noting in his mind everything that they’d inflicted on him. His father was by no means an angel, but keeping Matt out of the city for any amount of time made him deserving of sainthood. He looked at his dad one last time before he began gently filling the hole, one scoop after another. When he was done, he went back up to Moon and prepared.

  ***

  A hand patted his cheek. Moon could already feel a sledgehammer pounding on the side of his head before he ever tried to open his eyes. The bright afternoon sun poured into his eyes. He tried to shake the blurriness free from his vision, but that only made
the pain rage and protest in his skull. When his eyes were fully focused, he stared ahead of him, feeling a fear which he’d never before felt.

  The Stranger stood before him, which in itself would be scary enough to make him shit himself, but he saw a large board sitting on the ground, filled with different items. He walked up the board with his eyes, knowing there was nothing pleasant that would happen because of any of these items. At this point, he was beginning to pray that the others would come back very soon, and not in another day or two. He wasn’t sure as of now if they would stand a chance, but their lives were something he was happy to have them risk, if it meant that he was going to have the opportunity to survive.

  “What… what are you gonna do to me? What are you doing? What’s all that shit for?”

  Moon tried moving his arms and the realization struck him that he wasn’t on the flat of his back. He looked down at his feet, seeing them both stretched to the sides, as well as his arms. He’d pictured the only art piece he knew by name and realized he probably looked a lot like Da Vinci’s Vitruvian Man. Moon realized his legs were bare, and when he tried to force himself free, could feel other items jiggling freely. He stretched down as far as he could, looking at his legs, stomach, genitals, and arms.