by Tobias Wade
Later that night, when small tongues of yellow flames licked at the dry branches, the kids and teachers came shuffling down after dinner at the camp kitchen. John sat on a tree stump by the fire, his face painted white with chalk, feathers sticking out of his hair at weird angles, and his knees clamping a bamboo bongo, which he hit at irregular beats.
The children huddled in their class groups down the narrow path; some girls giggled and glanced back at the boys as they approached.
“Come, my friends.”
Bong.
“Come and sit.”
Bong.
As they neared, John struck the drum faster. Driving an urgency into their strides until they all scampered onto the logs, some falling over each other in the process.
The last beat of the drum echoed around the campsite and died. John looked up to the black sky with closed eyes and held his arms out wide. Slowly his chin sunk until it touched his chest. He started to speak in a whisper that steadily grew stronger.
“His name was Credence, and this was his family’s land. Until a night just like this, when young Credence went missing.”
John's eyes flashed open, and a girl with ruby red hair gasped. The white paint made John's dark eyes pop in the firelight.
“Credence liked nothing more than to splash about in the lake and play in his father's fields, just like you. But one day his father returned with blood on his hands, and Credence was no longer allowed out. There had been an attack on his cattle.”
Scott and Lee both growled low in their throats until Jessica punched them on the arm.
“His father had noticed large prints surrounding the dead bodies of his cows. After another attack, he went out to catch the beast. But the creature was too quick, too sneaky. Until the one night he awoke to the screams of his herd. He jumped up.”
John jumped onto the log, and a few girls screamed. He smirked and spoke down to them as the fire lit his face from below.
“He picked up his rifle and shot wildly into the field. A man stood up in the middle of his cattle. Taller than I am now, only he wasn't a man. No. He had the head of a goat. The beast looked at him with beady eyes and gnashed its pointed teeth. Credence's father watched in horror as it jittered and jerked. The air started to feel clammy and charged with electricity. The smell of copper and dried blood hung heavy in the air.”
The kids sniffed eagerly hoping the air would change and John paused as if waiting, before carrying on.
“The Goatman charged with razor-sharp horns, but thankfully Credence's father jumped on his horse and turned in the saddle. He fired at the beast, and the Goatman fell with a wound in the shoulder, Credence's father kicked at his horse and rode away.”
John waved his arms and looked far off into the forest; an owl hooted in the distance, and the crickets came to life in the silence.
“He couldn't stop the killing, even when the beast came for his family.”
John played the crowd like a fiddle; each kid hung on his every word.
“One night Credence woke up to a sound unlike any he had heard before. He crept downstairs and opened the door to the porch. There at the entrance to his home was the Goatman kneeling over his mother's body with bloodied horns. His father's voice sounded upstairs, calling out his mother’s name. Before Credence could call his father, the Goatman snatched at him with wicked claws.”
John jumped off the log and made a snatch at a girl huddling next to her friend. They screamed and shied back as he danced around the circle of faces. A moan sounded off to the right of the tents, and everyone looked about wildly.
“Credence's father barreled down the stairs, shotgun in hand only to see his dead wife at the door; Credence cried into the night as the Goatman carried him off, but his father only fell to his knees losing himself in the grief of his dead wife.”
The fire crackled and spat as if it too wanted to hear more. The hollow moan sounded again.
“No one ever saw Credence again, and Credence's father aspirated—after years of neglect—sold the farm. We named the camp after Credence to remind us that something else lives in the forest.”
John swept his arm around.
“And every month we leave something for the Goatman, to keep our family and campers safe, but...”
He looked about wildly. “We forgot to do it last week.”
A figure barreled through the clearing with a sickening moan. Its goat head jerked from side to side; big black beady eyes made the kids jump and scream. A few of the teacher engrossed in the story didn't see past the blue jeans and brown hunting vest and lost themselves in terror. After a few erratic moments of flaying bodies, Sally pulled off the goat head, and her blonde hair and white laughter sparkled in the firelight.
“Haha, got ya.”
She clutched the goat head to her stomach laughing until she reached John's side. Sally put a hand on his shoulder as the kids, especially the boys looked up at her with open mouths. She smiled and raised the goat head as her golden skin shone in the firelight.
“It's an old hunting trophy of the camps. I think it used to belong to old man Welbeck.”
A small red-haired girl off to the left raised a hand.
“Wait, you mean the story is true, you know about the animal attacks and Credence?”
John waved a hand and chuckled.
“Well yes and no. Yes, this was Credence's farm, and yes he did go missing, but no, the Goatman is just a story we tell to frighten you.”
“So,” said Sally. “The real reason you're all gathered around the fire is...”
Sally bent behind the log John sat on and pulled out some sticks. Then she reached into the goats head and pulled out a large bag of marshmallows.
“Dessert!”
***
Scott sat on his sleeping bag long after the camp lights had shut off. Lee shuffled his cards and placed a Marshadow Pokémon down on the canvas between them.
“Do you think the girls will want to come and sleep with us in our tent?”
Scott shrugged and placed a Jolteon Pokémon card down. He adjusted his head torch and looked at Lee. A giant shadow dwarfed the tent.
“Lights outs boys!”
Scott snatched at the light and switched it off.
“Sorry, Mr. Throne,” chorused the boys.
They held their breaths for what seemed like ages until they heard the sound of a zipper. Scott reached up to switch back on the light, but Lee clutched his hand stopping him.
“What?” he whispered.
“They'll see the light.”
“So, we won't be able to see the cards.”
“Shhh, listen.”
Scott strained his ears, footsteps outside, slow and steady. Someone or something was out there.
“You don't think it's... you know?” Lee said swallowing.
Scott swallowed too and followed the noise around the tent; each step sent sharp stabs of fear to his heart. Lee shuffled away from the zipper, fighting Scott to the back of the tent. A nail dragged along the fabric as a second pair of footsteps came around the tent. The boys clutched at each other as the zipper slowly fell.
“Ah, got ya.” Jessica squeezed through the zipper giggling, and a brown-haired girl the boys didn't know fell in after her. Scott quickly dragged the Pokémon card out of sight before the girls could notice.
“What ya do that for? Damn.” Scott pushed Jessica as she laughed harder. She nodded to the girl.
“This is Mary, she's from Boney Bastards, um sorry,”—she smiled at the girl—“Bonus pastors.”
Scott and Lee smiled and watched as Jessica pulled out a small bottle of vodka. She unscrewed the lid and lifted it to her rose-colored lips. Scott watched as a small trickle rolled down her cheek into her neckline. He didn't stop until he was looking at a shiny embroiled star on her pajama top.
“Want some?” she offered.
Scott jolted and accepted the bottle; the liquor burnt and s
oon his head started to feel dizzy and stupid.
***
Lee tried to follow the spinning bottle as the tent turned with it. The neck slowed and stopped on Jessica. She reached out, and French-kissed Scott. After some time the pair parted. He grinned, and she laughed.
“You're next, Mary.” Jessica handed her the bottle, and she twirled it. Jessica laughed again as it stopped on her. Mary looked shyly at her but didn't break eye contact. Jessica shrugged and leaned in as the boys pulled their sleeping bags over their laps.
A noise outside interrupted the kissing, and everyone froze listening until the crickets started up again. Jessica leaned over to Scott and whispered in his ear. Scott grinned and unzipped the tent. Jessica followed him out into the night. Lee smiled weakly at Mary.
“Do you want to play some more?”
Mary half shrugged and feigned a yawn.
“I'm tired.” She crawled out the tent flap on all fours and disappeared.
Lee felt a little hurt, but his head was spinning too much anyway. After a moment of fumbling, he zipped the tent up and fell on his sleeping bag.
***
The sun spiked through the forest canopy like the fingers of God. Each ray spread out across bracken and crunching autumn leaves. The map wafted in Scott's hands as the students of Sedgehill school tried to navigate the forest. Lee, Dean, and Jessica trudged behind him as Natasha dragged a stick leaving a slight trail in the forest floor.
“What you doing that for?” Jessica rounded on her, and she stopped dead.
“Well if we get lost we can find our back can't we.”
Her singing voice echoed through the forest of vast trees. Scott twisted the map again and again before humming and passing it to Lee’s waiting hands. Lee screwed up his face with concentration; after a few minutes he huffed and passed it to Dean who seemed delighted. He stuck out a tongue as he twisted the map right side up.
“I've got no idea where we're going,” said Scott. "Stupid maps just got lines and dots. Where’s Google maps when you need it. I can't believe they wouldn't let us bring phones on this trip.”
Jessica blanched and reached into her jeans’ pocket.
“What, like this?”
The sunlight sparkled off the bejeweled back of her iPhone. She swiped at the screen before moving it in the air.
“Arg. No reception.”
A loud hooting echoed through the forest, and they all fell silent.
“Can you make out where to go Dean?” asked Lee as he glanced over his shoulder. Dean traced a line with his finger and nodded.
“Yeah, I reckon we're about here, and the last marker is this little green dot here. So...”
He lifted a finger and waved it from left to right.
“This way.”
The group continued through the forest as the wildlife spoke around them.
”Don't get us lost Dean, this place is freaking me out.” Natasha brushed at a low branch and tripped on the exposed tree root falling to her knees.
“I heard the teachers saying a girl went missing last night,” said Scott. “Apparently, she got lost going to the toilet or something, her teacher said the girl was there for lights out, but she wasn't in her tent in the morning.”
“How can someone get lost going to the toilet? The light is constantly on, you can see it from our tent. That's just ridiculous,” Lee said screwing up his face.
Natasha brushed dirt from her jeans and looked up into the branches of the tree. She screamed and pointed her finger at a brown sack hanging high above them. Lee ran around the giant trunk shielding his eyes from a spike of sunlight.
“Is that a person?” said Lee.
“Maybe it the Goatman,” joked Dean.
“Don't be stupid Dean; it was just a story,” Jessica said nervously.
“Well, there’s only one way to find out.” Scott took off his pack and started to climb. The wind blew, and the sack twisted and turn until something dirty fell to the ground. Jessica screamed this time.
A bloodied T-shirt lay crumpled on the forest floor. The hanging sack swung round again. A pale brown-haired girl hung limply from the tree branch. A distance moan echoed through the trees.
“What the fuck was that?” Jessica searched the forest in despair as Natasha clutched at Dean. The moan sounded again.
“Whatever it is,” said Dean. “It’s getting closer. Scott, get down.”
Scott stretched out across the open space and pushed the body with the tip of his finger; a girls face slowly swung round. Her glassy eyes looked through him, purple veins struck across her face, and her swollen tongue hung out her mouth. Scott retched.
“It’s Mary,” he whispered. “It’s Mary,” he called down to the group, but something else caught his attention, something moving fast through the undergrowth.
“It’s coming!” he shouted as the gawking faces turned to see where he pointed.
“Get down!” the girls screamed at Scott as he lowered his foot to the branch below.
The bushes before the group exploded as a horned man emerged. Twisted black-green horns protruded from a dark leather helmet covering its eyes and nose. Spittle flew from a lipless mouth with a savage roar. The skin stretched taut over its sharp, stained, crooked teeth. A tiny waist gave way to an enormous chest—each rib looked like a skeletal finger as it heaved with each disgusting breath.
The Goatman roared at the kids and grabbed for Jessica. She screamed and bolted away. Scott clung to a branch, too frightened to move. Dean trip backward and the beast tore toward him snatching at his leg with dirty, broken fingernails. They bit deep into his leg, and he screamed in pain. He kicked at the Goatman’s claws and finally broke free.
Suddenly the beast twisted its horned head. Even without eyes it seemed to be aware of its surrounding. The girls raced away as its sightless head swung around and twisted up to the canopy of branches above and Scott. It barreled to the tree, hitting it hard.
“Run!” Scott’s frightened voice shocked the group as the Goatman clawed at the tree trunk.
The girls looked back at Dean across the ground and froze, whimpering. Lee sucked in a huge breath and ran towards him, Jessica paused a moment and then followed. Between them, they managed to get Dean to his feet and with a shoulder each hobbled away.
They half ran, half hopped through the forest hoping that the Goatman wasn’t following. Scott’s deep cry suddenly echoed around them, and they knew exactly where the Goatman was.
***
The bedraggled group fell into the clearing. A small fire crackled in front of the entrance to an adapted Native American teepee, and a white and grey husky that lay next to it watched them approach. An old white man with a bald head and glasses ducked out from within the folds.
“Ah ha, the last group, we were starting to worry you'd gotten lost in there wasn't we, Rumpole.” The dog looked at its owner and wagged his tail unenthusiastically. Then it stopped and stood up on tired bones. The heckles on its back stood on ends, and it started to growl deep in its throat.
“Woo Rumpole, these are friends.”
The man took in the ragged group of four. The girl with blonde hair and a dirty puffy face. The dark girl with torn clothes. Both had been crying. One of the boys held another boy with a bloodied leg. His vacant stare went through him like he wasn’t there. He didn’t need to know that something was very wrong.
“What happened?” He took a step towards the group and took Dean under one arm.
“Something came at us. It had horns and... and—” Natasha broke down in tears and collapsed to the floor by the husky. The old man's face turned white.
“What do you mean horns?” His right hand started to tremble. He reached down and pulled open the tear in Dean’s trousers. A deep wound leaked blood down to his ankle and dripped to the floor.
“What did this?” he asked.
“The Goatman. Or that’s what I think it was,” said Jessica.
The man's eyes grew wide with fear.
“Quickly inside, before it comes back.”
He ushered them inside his tent, closing the door behind him. Then he brought down a thick fabric that blotted out the light from the window sending the interior into darkness.
“Quiet, don’t breathe, don't make a sound.”
The group huddled together not knowing if the old man was insane. A series of thumps echoed through the clearing. Rumpole whimpered and scurried under a bench by the wall.
“Shhhh.”
Footsteps reached near the tent. Heavy snorting made the girls whimper. Each clamped hands over their mouths to suppress the sound. The breathing and footsteps crunched around a few times and then got quieter as it moved off.
“That was close, was that…?" whispered Lee.
A match flared in the darkness, and slowly a shuttered lantern lit the small teepee.
“That,” he looked over his glasses at the kids, "Was something that shouldn’t be here. Come with me.”
The old man moved a seat at the back and pulled at the fabric of the tent. A hole the size of a small human opened to darkness.
“Where’s that go?” asked Natasha.
“Back to the campground, you’ll be safe there.”
***
At the campfire, John and Sally gathered everyone around to congratulate them on navigating the woods. One team still hadn’t arrived, and a seed of dread was creeping up John's spine. Suddenly the stump next to him toppled, and a shiny head popped out.
“Warren, you old devil. You nearly scared me to death.” John's face went from mock surprise to genuine surprise when four more heads followed him out of the hole. A murmuring went through the crowd.
“What’s happened Warren?” John's said concerned.
“Something attacked them, and by what they've told me, it's got two kids.”
Sally quickly spoke to a teacher, and in a few minutes, the rest of the teachers were leading the children back toward the administration building. Steve, however, came round to face John.
“What the hell is happening? And where’s Scott?” He looked at Lee and the others, but they dropped their eyes to the floor.
“Lee?” Lee looked up.
