by John O'Brien
Sam unwrapped the chain holding the gate closed. With a creak of metal hinges that carried across the silent fields, he opened it and stepped onto the driveway, closing and securing it again behind them. Small clouds of dust billowed away from his boots with each step. Several large birds wheeled across the clear afternoon sky. Halfway down the driveway, he spotted movement near the tractor. Even from a distance, he saw a man in perhaps his mid to late forties, wearing faded jeans and a darkly covered short sleeve shirt, step clear of the machinery.
Sam stopped in the middle of the drive and looked toward the house. The man’s movements seemed…erratic. He twitched a few times as he walked, and then he streaked off at a dead run for several strides before coming to a halt. To Sam, it looked as if he was attempting to chase down an errant cat that teased and then darted away at the last minute. It was odd, watching him twitch and then run after something Sam couldn’t see; hilarious in a way that had Sam chuckling inside as he continued to watch the farmer move about the dirt lot, chasing something he couldn’t quite catch. If he wasn’t so desperate to get help and put this whole episode behind him, he’d watch the antics to their conclusion.
Working his way closer, Sam noticed that the way the light lay across the land made it appear that the man had a halo of himself that hovered to one side. It was almost like a glow or an inversely colored upright shadow. He’d seen some pretty weird things in his lifetime, but nothing quite like what he was witnessing now.
“Hello there,” Sam called out from a distance so as not to startle the man.
The man instantly halted his antics, his head swiveling left and right as he searched for the source of the call. His eyes found and locked onto Sam and Erin. He then turned his face skyward and opened his mouth wide, a shrill scream reverberating over the fields.
What the fuck?! That’s not the reaction I was expecting, Sam thought, taken aback.
The shriek caused Sam to take a step backward and sweep Erin behind him with one arm. The man launched into an all-out run and raced straight for the two of them. Sam began taking steps backward, keeping Erin behind.
“I’m sorry to startle you. Our car broke down and we just need to use your phone,” Sam called, still backpedaling.
The man didn’t slow or show that he understood.
“We don’t mean any trouble,” Sam yelled as the man continued down the driveway toward them.
As the man neared, Sam saw more clearly the odd halo that he had noticed earlier and assumed to be a trick of the light. Seemingly attached to the man was a smoky image, almost like an afterglow. It hovered next to him, fluctuating partially in and partially outside of his body; wavering like a misty reflection. The man’s expression was a mixture of rage and pain, his face pinched as if being electrocuted. The opaque image was a perfect likeness in every way; sometimes merging with his actual body, at other times branching out as if trying to break free. In obvious agony, the man didn’t slow his approach.
What in the serious fuck?!
“Sir. We don’t mean any harm and we’ll just leave,” Sam bellowed, adrenaline surging through his system in response to his rising fear.
He didn’t want to engage in a showdown, especially in such a remote area. His thoughts ran wild with what he was witnessing. It seemed clear that the man meant harm, and Sam wasn’t about to let anything happen to Erin. Still stepping backward down the drive, he reached around under his pack, his hand wrapping around the handgun grip.
The pounding of the man’s feet on the hard ground and his gasping breath were all Sam heard. The afterimage kept pace, its opaque nature holding the same expression of pain. After pulling hard from the man’s body, it snapped back inside. The man, several feet away, pulled to a halt, nearly skidding. He put his hands to the side of his head as if trying to hold his skull together. Looking up toward Sam, the pain in the man’s eyes was obvious. Sam didn’t think he’d ever witnessed such an expression of agony.
“Help me,” the man whispered hoarsely. “The pain.”
The whitish shadow shot out to the side, seeming to emerge from within the man’s body. As it attempted to pull away, the man’s eyes betrayed even more suffering.
“Help me,” he whispered again.
“Help me,” the ghostly image whispered a split second later.
A chill ran up Sam’s spine, the hair on his arms and the back of his neck standing straight on end. A tingle ran across his scalp and a deep, foreboding sickness settled into his gut. The man arced his head back and again screamed, the shrillness of it vibrating inside of Sam’s head. The ghostly image echoed that scream an instant later, both shrieks seeming to have a physical nature. The rage and hunger returned to the man’s eyes and he charged forward.
Sam pushed Erin away from him and drew his handgun in a smooth motion.
“Last chance to calm the fuck down, buddy. We’ll leave, but I’m not going to let you hurt my daughter,” Sam yelled.
He knew that once a weapon was drawn, the choices had narrowed to two simple ones: the man would either stop or Sam would fire. Bringing the 9mm around to point it directly at the man, he hoped the sight of the darkened hole of the barrel would cause him to rethink his current action. Instead, the man reached outward, his hands partially clenched like some kind of arthritic claws. Only a few feet away, the ghostly image, partially radiating to the side, lunged forward as if eager to reach Sam.
The retort of the gunshot rang across the fields. From behind, Erin gave a startled yelp. The man’s head rocked back from the impact of the bullet as it slammed into his forehead at close range. Blood trickled from a hole with wrinkled skin around the edges. The back of the man’s head exploded outward in a clumpish, pink shower of bone and brains. Part of the skull folded outward as if on a hinge, and swung on the strips of skin still holding it attached. The man stopped in his tracks and fell to his knees as if pleading for mercy. He then slumped forward, hitting the dusty drive with his face.
Dust billowed out from the body as it slammed into the ground. The back of the man’s head was ruined, the piece of the skull still attached flopped to the side. Blood trickled down the scalp and dripped to the ground, soaking into the dust. The ghostly image, which accompanied the man on his race across the yard and down the drive, drifted slowly upward from the body before vanishing in a wisp of smoke.
Sam lowered the handgun and stared at the corpse lying a few feet away. His situation just became exponentially more complicated.
“Daddy?! You just shot him,” Erin exclaimed.
“I know. He was going to hurt you and I wasn’t going to let that happen,” Sam replied, still stunned by what happened.
“Why would he want to hurt me?”
“I don’t know. He was out of his mind and wasn’t thinking clearly,” Sam answered.
“But Daddy, he said he needed help. I heard him,” Erin stated.
“Regardless of what you heard him say, he was attacking with the intention of doing harm, Erin. I regret what happened, but he wasn’t going to stop,” Sam responded.
Sam realized that she hadn’t had a good view of the situation, or of the man. He wasn’t himself sure what he’d just witnessed, the clarity of it dulling with the passing of each second. When something was so far out of the realm of one’s reality, the brain tended to shunt it aside. Standing motionless with his handgun at his side, Sam looked at the body. He mentally went through what he had seen and attempted to analyze it.
There was no doubt in his mind that there had been some kind of apparition. He hadn’t imagined it, nor had he imagined the man’s expressions or the voice that mimicked him a split second afterward. However, reality was a strange creature, and he wondered if perhaps those clouds contained something other than an electrical storm. The drugged man in the car miles up the road came to mind. Perhaps there was something in the air that made him hallucinate. That was almost more frightening than if what he thought he saw was real. That would mean that reality itself may have been skewe
d, and he couldn’t trust what he saw or heard. There was also the possibility that if what Sam had observed wasn’t real, then the man may have not been attacking after all.
Okay, Sam, stop it!
He realized that his brain was hard at work attempting to explain away the images. His mind wouldn’t accept that the phantasm was real, so it was hunting down different explanations.
“Erin?” Sam said, turning to his daughter. “Did you hear him repeat himself? Like, instantly afterward?”
“I heard him say ‘help me’ several times. The ones that followed sounded more whispered, hoarser…kind of like an echo, I guess,” Erin answered. “Why?”
“No reason. I was just wondering if we heard the same thing.”
Far off, coming from the neighboring houses, more screams carried across the fields of shrubs. Sam’s head jerked up and he turned to listen for the exact sources. They seemed to be coming from both sides, but faint. He wondered if the neighbors, responding to the retort of the gunshot, were coming to investigate. Although he thought the screams sounded very familiar.
Certainly the sound of gunshots can’t be that rare out here, he thought.
His mind raced through how he’d explain the two of them standing over a dead man with Sam holding the murder weapon. He contemplated burying the gun in the fields and stating that they’d come upon the scene after hearing the gunshot. Just as quickly, he discarded that idea; any investigation would discover the weapon registered in his name. He knew the truth was better than being caught in a lie. They came seeking help and the man attacked them without any provocation. That was just the simple truth of it. If he didn’t disturb the area, they’d see from the tracks that the man was running toward them and their backpedaling steps, then they’d find the stranded vehicle up the road. At a minimum, it would create a reasonable doubt.
Sam caught sight of two people running along the highway, one from the right and the other from the left, both of them converging on the driveway. He put his handgun away in order not to instill fear in the approaching individuals. If they spotted an armed man, and were carrying weapons themselves, the situation could escalate rapidly.
They rounded the corner at a dead run, their feet pounding up the dirt drive. The fact that they weren’t approaching cautiously, given the previous gunshot, gave Sam pause. His head felt woozy from the adrenaline drain, his thoughts still trying to wrap around what had occurred so abruptly. He wasn’t sure of himself or the circumstance he’d found himself in, and wished for the sound of sirens making their way along the highway. Any sign of law enforcement would stabilize the situation. As it was, those approaching could want revenge for the death of their neighbor.
“Daddy?! There’s something wrong with those men,” Erin stated.
Holding back a “duh” statement, he peered closer at the two, their legs ferociously pumping. They were still too far away to make out distinct expressions, but the fact that they weren’t slowing gave rise to the feeling that they were rushing to attack.
“Hold up there, friends. I can explain this whole thing,” Sam yelled, attempting to bring reason into the situation.
The only response was more screams. Sam finally saw what Erin was alluding to. Like the man on the ground behind them, the newcomers both had the same kind of misty halo about them. Their shrieks were mimicked by the apparitions, hollow echoes. The sight of the phantasms validated his earlier impression, but that brought little comfort. Fear rose in the pit of his stomach as he again reached for his Beretta.
“What in the serious fuck?!” Sam mumbled.
“Daddy? They have ghosts with them,” Erin exclaimed.
“Erin, get behind me and stay there,” Sam ordered.
Sam saw rage, agony, and hunger etched on their faces as they continued hurtling down the path. The specters at their side, fluctuating in and out of their bodies, were in a constant state of motion. Foreheads wrinkled, eyes squinted, and teeth clenched against their obvious pain, opening only for shrieks to issue forth. Yet they continued racing toward him and Erin.
“Okay, I’m going to have to ask you to stop. I’m trying to be nice here,” Sam yelled, bringing his 9mm to bear.
Still, they continued to run forward, one stumbling and going to his knees. Grabbing his head in his hands, he looked directly at Sam with agonized eyes.
“Please, help me,” the man whispered.
He then threw his head back and shrieked. Sam had heard screams of pain on the battlefield, but nothing like what issued from that man’s lips. It was so overwhelming that Sam almost felt the pain himself. The apparition emerged, in perfect likeness, and joined with the man. It pulled away as if stretching, the snapped back to settle partially in and out of the kneeling man.
“Help me,” the man again whispered.
“Help me,” the phantasm echoed.
“End it, please,” the man said.
“End it, please.”
The other, running ahead of the man on his knees, reached a position several feet from Sam. Sam heard Erin crying behind him. Knowing that his daughter was scared and in danger, anger rose from deep within him. He tightened his finger on the trigger, the recoil a surprise.
The bullet raced across the short intervening space and punched through the man’s upper teeth. Bone shards and blood splattered outward and across the man’s face. The round tore through the back of the throat, slamming into and then through the spine. Without support, the man’s head flopped to the side, his ear touching his shoulder. The man fell sideways to the ground like a sack of rice.
The other rose and stumbled forward as his body tried to go faster than his legs could manage. He reached forward, the apparition at his side repeatedly lunging as if it were darting out in an attempt to get at them. Still angry from Erin being terrified, Sam didn’t hesitate to pull the trigger.
Blood splattered outward in a mist filled with larger droplets as the round punched into the second man’s throat. The shock of the bullet tearing into him barely registered on his face. Looking through the wisp of smoke rising from the barrel, Sam stared at the man, swearing he saw a measure of relief enter the hungry and anguished expression.
Blood poured down the man’s chest, soaking his light-colored T-shirt. A gurgle sounded as the man attempted to breathe, air sucking through the blood-filled hole. Stumbling forward one more step, the man fell to his knees, his hands at last going to his ruined neck. Blood flowed freely through his fingers, running across them in rivulets. All the while, the phantasm continued lunging. Sam put weight on the trigger, but there was no need to fire as the man fell to the side, the blood flow reduced to a mere trickle. As with the original man, a wispy white figure drifted above the body and faded to a thin whitish smoke before vanishing entirely, as if blown by the wind.
After making sure that neither man was moving, and never would again, Sam listened for a second to hear if more were on their way. The land was silent except for Erin’s sobs. Sam turned to take his daughter in his arms and tightly hugged her. She folded into his embrace and sobbed into his shoulder.
“It’s okay, Erin. It’s okay,” he repeated, holding her close to soothe her fear.
With one ear alert to anything drawing near, he held Erin until her sobs ran out.
“What was wrong with them?” she asked, pulling away and wiping her eyes.
“I don’t know,” Sam answered.
“Daddy, they had ghosts with them. What were they?”
“I don’t know,” Sam replied, unsure of how to answer that for himself.
He turned to look at each of the bodies, expecting, or perhaps hoping, to see a faint impression still remaining of what he had witnessed. There was nothing but three dead bodies; no residue of what he had seen, or thought he’d seen. With Erin having seen it as well, there wasn’t really any further doubt that it was real. But he still couldn’t wrap his mind around it. His mind wandered through the possibilities:
Were they possessed? Were they actual ghosts
? Maybe even their spirits or souls? What could possibly cause that to happen? And, if any of the above were true, why weren’t Erin and I affected? Did it have anything to do with being in the cave? Just what in the fuck was going on?
He didn’t have answers to any of the questions. The whole situation just seemed so bizarre and unreal. The world that the two of them stumbled into had taken a very sinister turn. They’d wandered out of the mountains seeking a phone to call a tow truck. And now, he had killed three people. Sure, they had intended harm, but would the police and the courts see the difference between self-defense and murder? There weren’t any witnesses besides him and Erin. The men weren’t armed and he was a stranger.
“What are we doing to do, Daddy?” Erin inquired.
“I guess we have to call the sheriff. Although I don’t want to, I suppose we have to go inside and use the man’s phone,” Sam answered. “Close your eyes as we walk. I’ll guide you.”
Although she’d already seen the destruction to the bodies, he didn’t want her to focus on them and he didn’t have much of anything to throw over them. Holding the handgun in one hand, he guided Erin past the body as they walked up the driveway. Stepping onto the porch, Sam released Erin and stood by the open doorway, listening. He’d had enough surprises for one day. His body quivered with the aftereffects of the intense adrenaline rush, and he was tired from the long walk.
The only sound coming from inside was a heavy ticking, like a large clock. The usual hum coming from electronics and appliances was missing. Sam turned and looked across the fields toward the lonely highway, searching for any sign of others. There was no one.
He hated having to go inside the dead man’s house; hated having to disturb anything. If law enforcement arrived and found that he’d been in the house, it would be difficult to determine whether he’d gone in before or after he’d killed the resident. The story could easily become that he was caught trespassing and killed the man and those who had come to his aid. However, calling the authorities would help his cause.
