Dead Village

by Holly Copella

  Rose eyed her soaked husband and cleverly raised her brow in suggestion. “We could always stop and ask directions.”

  Roger snorted a laugh and put the car into gear. “Silly girl,” he scoffed while casting a sly grin at her. “Real men don’t ask for directions. Real men have GPS.”

  “GPS is taking you down a backroad to some hick town in the middle of nowhere,” she replied casually. “What will you do then?”

  Roger shrugged. “Just drive around aimlessly until GPS picks up a signal.”

  “Oh, my God,” Peggy softly chimed in from the back, “they’re us twenty years ago.”

  Rose partially turned in her seat and grinned at Peggy in the backseat. At least the women were in good spirits under the circumstances.

  The BMW turned onto the backroad to the right with the Corolla following. The Lexus obediently followed them. The driver of the Lexus, an attractive, young woman in her mid-twenties, Devon Pennington, followed the barely visible Corolla taillights. Devon wore a stunning, short black dress. She was returning home from a work related fundraiser party in a neighboring city. It was a miserable night to be out, and she regretted having gone to the party even more now. The party was a bust, and she couldn’t imagine things getting much worse. Now that she followed the two strange cars along a dark, backroad in the pouring rain, she stood corrected. Things had gotten worse. She just hoped the leader knew where he was going, because she certainly had no idea where the backroad led. Headlights from an SUV shone through her rearview mirror as it gained on her. She eyed her rearview mirror and stared at the closeness of the vehicle behind her. She couldn’t believe the nerve he had to drive so close to her back end.

  “In a hurry, are we?” Devon scoffed to the headlights behind her. “Jerkoff--”

  Devon hated when other driver’s rode her ass. It wasn’t as if she could pull over and get out of his way. Even if she could, she wouldn’t have. She didn’t believe rude drivers should be rewarded. To her, they were no different from children throwing a temper tantrum to get their way. Despite the pouring rain, heavy wind, and barely visible road, the SUV remained close to her bumper. Her horrible evening wasn’t getting any better. The party was boring and did little more than leave her exhausted and driving some dark backroad in the pouring rain. Now she had an impatient driver crawling up her rear end. She again glanced at the SUV through her rearview mirror. With the mood she was in, she seriously wanted to slam on the brakes and let him ram into the back of her car. She desperately wanted to lash out at someone, and the SUV driver fit the bill. She finally tossed the idea from her head. He wasn’t worth the effort. Devon sometimes wished she was more confrontational, but her rational side almost always took over. She clutched the steering wheel and cursed the SUV driver through the rearview mirror instead. Sadly, it wasn’t nearly as satisfying as she had hoped.

  The driver of the SUV, Novak Delano, was a lanky, well-dressed man in his mid-thirties. The man riding alongside him in the passenger seat was Vander Hawk, a ruggedly handsome man in his early thirties. Novak appeared irritated while keeping his attention on the taillights of the Lexus directly in front of him. He shook his head with annoyance and indicated the car to his friend.

  “You know, if people are afraid to drive, they shouldn’t be on the road,” Novak said sternly. “Did you notice? It’s always the women too.”

  Vander casually glanced at the man in the driver’s seat and showed little reaction. “Damned right,” Vander huffed under his breath. “They need to leave speeding through flooded roadways during a massive storm to the real men.”

  Novak glared at his passenger. Vander caught his stare then grinned teasingly.

  “You know, I never liked you,” Novak remarked dryly.

  “The feeling’s mutual,” Vander said with a chuckle.

  All four cars drove along the darkened road no more than thirty miles an hour in the pouring rain. A small, luxury party bus now trailed behind the SUV while maintaining a safe distance. The luxury party bus was lavish with bench style, leather seats and a massive bar. Loud dance music blared while twelve drunken, well-dressed men cheered as two scantily dressed women danced seductively around the stripper poles inside the bus. The professionally dressed, female driver in her late twenties glanced through the rearview mirror at the drunken, rowdy men. Monica Burke shook her head and rolled her eyes at the spectacle.

  “I so didn’t sign up for this,” Monica muttered. “Damned well better tip good.”

  The BMW picked up speed and drove through the partially flooded roadway ahead. The water parted in tall waves on either side of the car. The Corolla drove through the parted water directly behind the BMW. The Lexus followed through, maintaining a safe distance. As the SUV closed in, the Lexus moved faster through the flooded roadway.

  Within the BMW, Roger and Rose squinted through the heavy rain and thrashing windshield wipers at the tiny, blinking light up ahead.

  “What’s that light?” Rose asked her husband.

  Milton and Peggy were equally curious and strained to see from the backseat. Roger’s eyes suddenly widen in horror as he gasped and slammed on the brakes. Rose screamed simultaneously and clutched the dashboard. The BMW slid along the wet road toward the sawhorse with the ‘bridge out’ sign on it. The car struck the crude blockade and drove nose first into the ravine where the Fox Ridge Village covered bridge once stood. It crashed to the bottom nearly fifteen feet down, smashing the front end on impact. The Corolla’s brakes screeched as it slid toward the ravine and struck the partially exposed tail of the BMW, smashing it against the remains of the bridge. The Lexus veered to the side while sliding and nearly spun completely around. The Lexus avoided the Corolla but slammed into a tree with a thunderous crack, striking the rear passenger side. The SUV skidded wildly on the slick road, sideswiped the back of the Corolla, and spun directly into the back fender of the Lexus. It jolted the Lexus away from the tree and tossed it nearly horizontal with the SUV. The party bus veered to the right to avoid the Corolla on the left, skidded wildly on the wet road, and slammed into a tree to the right. Steam poured from the massive wreckage of mangled cars in the pouring rain.

  Chapter Seven

  The party bus was eerily silent as interior lights dimly lit the passenger space of the bus. Strobe lights flashed but the music no longer played. Monica was slumped in the driver’s seat over the steering wheel as blood ran down her left temple. She slowly woke, momentarily disoriented, and then looked behind her to the interior of the bus. The twelve men and two women were scattered haphazard throughout the back. Arms and legs pointed in every direction from the sudden impact and lack of seat restraints. For a moment, it seemed as if no one moved and their conditions were unknown. A few moans finally broke the silence and the passengers started moving and collecting themselves. Despite her bleeding head, Monica wasted little time reaching under the driver’s seat for the first aid kit and crawled toward her injured passengers.

  Within the Lexus, Devon was reclined unconscious against her seat with blood running down her left temple. The sound of shattering glass woke her as the safety glass showered her body. She looked to her left and saw a man unlocking her door through the broken window. Vander, soaking wet and his shirt tinged with blood, pulled open the door. He leaned over her and touched her face while checking her bleeding temple. In her disorientation, she stared at the soaked man hoovering over her and wondered who this handsome man was.

  “Hey, are you okay?” Vander asked gently.

  Reality returned to her, and she realized she was still in her car, although she couldn’t remember what she had been doing prior to the moment she saw the handsome man alongside her. Nothing seemed to make any sense. Had she been driving?

  “What happened?” Devon said weakly.

  The sound of her voice was almost foreign to her, and she had a difficult time catching her breath. She then realized the seatbelt must have knocked the wind out of her. It remained tight against her chest and nearly s
uffocated her.

  “Vander!” Novak was heard calling through the rain. “Over here!”

  Vander remained in the doorway hovering over Devon while attempting to remain calm. “We’ve been in an accident,” he gently informed her. “You may have a concussion, but you’re going to be okay. I need you to stay here and try to remain still. I have to check on the other cars. I’ll be right back.”

  Vander hurried through the rain toward the Corolla. Novak stood next to the passenger side of the car. Leslie had injuries to her head and held her arm. Shane also sustained multiple injuries, but he seemed less inclined to move.

  “How badly are you hurt?” Novak asked the couple through the open doorway.

  As Vander approached Novak alongside the Corolla, he glanced toward the front of the car. The bumper of the BMW stuck partially out of the ravine. It was the only part of the car that remained visible and with the taillights out, it was easily missed.

  “Oh, shit--” Vander gasped.

  Novak quickly straightened and looked toward the remains of the BMW. The horror was evident on his face. Novak looked back inside the car to Shane and Leslie.

  “Can you move?” Novak asked with more urgency.

  “Yeah, I think--” Shane began.

  Novak pointed to the bus and didn’t wait for Shane to finish speaking. “See if that bus has a CB radio and call for help,” he announced firmly. “We’ll use that as a mobile medical center until help arrives.”

  Shane uncertainly nodded. Novak joined Vander in the pouring rain just before the ravine. Both stared down the ditch at the BMW standing vertically on its nose. The roof of the car was seemingly crushed against the remains of the bridge. Devon slowly approached them while clutching her head and stared in horror at the car. Her hand fell from her temple.

  “We have to get down there and see how badly they’re hurt,” Vander said to his friend. “Give me a hand.”

  Devon stared at the car below with her mouth hanging open and appeared horrified. “They’re dead--” she gasped softly.

  Vander suddenly looked at Devon with surprise and straightened. “What?”

  “They’re dead; all four of them,” Devon said softly without taking her eyes off the car.

  Vander and Novak exchanged looks. Vander looked back at Devon and placed his hands on her arms, forcing her to meet his gaze. She stared at him in the pouring rain.

  “You’ve suffered a concussion,” Vander informed her. “You need to join the others in that bus.”

  Devon looked past him and again stared at the car below. She wasn’t about to tell them what she saw. It was something she learned never to discuss. The ghostly images of Roger, Rose, Milton, and Peggy clung to one another in the ravine while staring at the vertical, smashed car. The four ghostly men and women looked up at Devon. She stared back at them with sympathy. Their spirits shot upward in a flash of light. Devon shut her eyes and turned her head as the rain continued to drench her.

  Novak helped Vander climb down into the ravine alongside the car. Vander looked at the bloodied driver’s side window, hesitated only briefly, and firmly yanked on the door until it opened. Roger’s skull was seemingly split open on the side where he hit the driver’s window. His seatbelt held him firmly against the seat despite his vertical incline. Rose was impaled by a plank from the remains of the old covered bridge. The plank had shattered the windshield and gone straight through her chest. Milton and Peggy both lie bent and broken against the backs of the front seats, having not worn seatbelts. Neither moved and both had their eyes open while seemingly staring at nothing. Their heads were twisted severely to match the rest of their broken bodies. Vander shut his eyes, groaned softly, and then climbed back up the ravine. Novak took his hand and helped pull him the rest of the way. Vander slowly shook his head, indicating his findings. Both men looked at Devon in silent question.

  †

  One hour later. Everyone remained quietly seated within the party bus while tending to their injuries with the limited supplies from Monica’s medical kit. Shane constructed a makeshift sling with his leather belt to stabilize his wife’s broken arm. Shane frowned while staring at his wife’s bleeding temple.

  “I wish I’d listened to you and just stayed home tonight,” Shane said softly.

  Leslie managed a tiny smile and gently touched his face. “Not exactly the romantic evening you’d planned,” she replied. “But I appreciate the effort.”

  Shane snorted a soft laugh and kissed her warmly on the lips. “Always the optimist.”

  Monica tended to head injuries and taped some of the more serious cuts together. Vander again checked his cell phone and shook his head with disgust. Several other injured passengers attempted to get signals with their cell phones as well, but it was no use. No one was getting a signal in the remote backwoods in the middle of nowhere.

  “We’re cut off from civilization,” Vander announced with disgust to no one in particular. “We need to hike to that town and find some help.”

  “That town is at least a mile from here past what was supposed to be a bridge,” Shane sternly informed him. “My wife has a broken arm. She can’t tackle that ravine and make that journey.” He indicated the other injured passengers within the bus. “With all these injuries, not many of us could make that.”

  “Novak and I will go,” Vander informed Shane and the others within the bus. “We’ll find whatever help we can.”

  “I’m going with you,” Monica announced without hesitation and stood.

  Novak looked at Monica several feet away from him. “You should probably stay here,” he informed her. “It could be dangerous.”

  She glared at him through narrow, squinted eyes. “I served two tours in Iraq,” Monica scoffed with obvious annoyance by his comment. “I think I can handle a mile hike through the mud and rain. I’m also an ­EMT. If I can find some decent medical supplies, I can patch up these people and stitch their wounds.” Monica folded her arms across her chest and sneered at him. “But if you’d prefer to stand around and argue about my qualifications, I can do that too.”

  Novak didn’t know what to say, indicated by his blank stare and his mouth hanging open. Monica accepted his silence as ‘no’ to a confrontation. She headed for the front of the bus and routed through the glove compartment. Two men who had been traveling together on the party bus, Harris Fitch and Trent Lawler, stood and approached Novak and Vander.

  “We’re coming with you,” Harris announced. “We’re okay to travel.”

  “Those are our friends. Some have been hurt pretty badly,” Trent said. “We want to do our part to help them.”

  “Our friend’s getting married next weekend,” Harris announced. “If we don’t bring him back in one piece tonight, his fiancée will kill us.”

  “Fine,” Vander reluctantly replied. “The five of us will hike to that town for help and medical supplies. The rest of you need to wait here.”

  Vander, Novak, Harris, and Trent walked toward the front of the bus where Monica waited with a baton-style flashlight in her hand. Devon watched them head for the front door. Something told her she needed to go. She needed to leave the bus and go with them to Fox Ridge Village, and she needed to go now. She quickly sprang to her feet and joined them at the front of the bus.

  “I want to go too,” Devon announced.

  All five eyed Devon in her short, black dress and heels. Novak chuckled in response. Devon immediately felt her cheeks redden from Novak’s chastising chuckle.

  “No offense,” Vander announced firmly, “but you’re not exactly dressed for the occasion. You won’t get far in that dress and you’ll be lucky to make it ten feet in those heels. You’d better sit this one out.”

  Devon frowned. She didn’t know why she had to go, but she knew when she got those feeling, she needed to listen to them. This feeling was urgent. She couldn’t possibly explain it to them, and they’d never understand. Most times, she didn’t understand. Monica grabbed a duffel bag from the nea
rby compartment, opened it, and tossed a leather jacket and sneakers to Devon.

  “Welcome to the boy’s club,” Monica announced.

  Devon eyed Monica with surprise. She wasted little time slipping into the jacket and shoes before anyone attempted to stop her from tagging along. She wasn’t about to question Monica’s motive, but she was pretty sure it was meant as a gesture to piss off Vander. Vander appeared stunned by Monica’s actions and glared his disapproval at her.

  Monica glared back at Vander, folded her arms across her chest, and raised a cocky brow. “Is there a problem?”

  Vander looked at Novak for a comment or reaction. Novak hid his smile but offered neither. Although Devon didn’t know Monica, she already knew all she needed to know about her. She wasn’t the type to take crap from anyone, and Devon was convinced she had the means to back it up. That being said, Devon was just happy she was on her side.

  Chapter Eight

  The small town of Fox Ridge Village was unusually dark and consisted of only a few dozen homes and businesses. Many had been boarded up with ‘for sale’ or ‘for rent’ signs in the windows, adding to the eeriness of the darkened, deserted town. The six crash survivors walked along the dark street while being drenched by the heavy rain. As they looked around the abandoned town, none felt at ease toward their steadily worsening situation. Devon didn’t understand why she felt the urgency to leave the warm dry bus to hike out to a ghost town. It made no sense. Usually when she felt a strong need to do something, it was for a good reason. That wasn’t the case tonight. Now she was wet, cold, and confused. At least she wasn’t alone. Her travel companions were equally confused, although for completely different reasons.

  “It’s almost as if everyone packed up and left in a hurry,” Novak said as he looked around. Several parked cars caught his attention. He became tense and suspicious. “Except they forgot to take their cars.”