The Revenant: A Horror in Dodsville

by Brian L. Blank

  "We can rest for a couple of hours and set off for Wickerman's at dusk. It's the best way."

  "I guess you would know best."

  I didn't know what he meant by that, but I didn't ask either. "Let's get everything ready then."

  Sly went out to the garage to dig up the flashlights, and I took the opportunity to run to his room for the pistol. I found it in his shirt drawer and shoved it into the front of my pants. I could feel a charge running throughout my body. We were finally doing something. Something that would rock the boat under Dodsville for good. The thought that maybe I wouldn't be around for the sunrise tomorrow started in my mind, but I pushed it away. Nothing negative now.

  When I got out to the garage, Sly had the flashlights in the car, along with the rope we had used out at the cemetery. He pulled the gas can out from behind the power mower and opened the trunk of the car.

  "What do we need gasoline for?" I asked.

  Sly set the can in the trunk and slammed it shut. He pulled a book of matches out of his shirt pocket. "Maybe they burn," he replied, sullenly.

  I nodded. "Maybe they do at that."

  Sly sighed deeply as we headed back into the house. "What about Pierce?"

  "What about him?" I replied. "We got this far without him. He'll only get in the way. He'll want to rationalize."

  "Where do you think he is?" We stopped in the hallway upstairs before heading off to our rooms. "This isn't like him at all. Usually he's right under our feet, getting into our way."

  "The question is, what the hell is he up to now?" I replied.

  Sly rubbed his forehead. "Yet, I would feel safer with another gun around." He looked disapprovingly at the gun sticking out of my pants. "How come you get the gun, anyway?"

  "I just thought because of my broken arm--"

  "Your arm is better."

  I sighed and pulled the gun out of my pants. "Take it," I said. "Just make sure you don't shoot me with it. Melissa, either."

  "Don't worry." He grabbed it; almost too eagerly, I thought.

  "Then I'll see you in three hours, I guess."

  Sly nodded and opened his bedroom door. "Right," he said.

  I stared silently at his closed door a minute before going into my own room and falling onto the bed. I didn't think I had it in me to fall asleep, but somehow I managed.

  CHAPTER THIRTY:

  Twilight at Wickerman's

  Hanging just above the horizon, only the tip of the sun remained, casting a dull orange tint to the wisps of cirrus clouds around it. In two minutes it would no longer be visible to anyone at this latitude and longitude, and I wondered silently to myself as I closed the passenger door to Sly's rented Buick if I would ever see a sunset again. Sly slid the key into the ignition and the engine belched for a second before revving to life. I leaned my head back against the seat as Sly backed out of the driveway--and thought maybe it would be better if we waited until morning's light for this excursion into the unknown. Wickerman's would be blanketed in darkness by the time we arrived, and with that darkness would come an eerie feeling of which only bats know the true meaning.

  Sly dropped the engine into first and silently headed down the paved road in front of us. Streetlights began to glow their early phosphorescent blue.

  "Maybe we shouldn't be doing this on our own," I said, in a voice barely above a whisper. One gun, one healthy person, and one person with an overly tender left arm seemed hardly enough to be taking on an entire force of--of whatever they were. I turned to face him. "Let's call in the national guard. They'd love this."

  Sly didn't reply, nor did he take his eyes off the roadway in front of him.

  "Or let's at least call Pierce again," I added, after a few seconds of silence. "I agree with you now on that point. Another gun can only--"

  "We'll park at the bar by the turnoff," Sly interrupted, wiping a drop of sweat from his right eyebrow. Other beads of perspiration built silently on his forehead. "We can hoof it from the parking lot to Wickerman's. That way no one there will be surprising us with an impromptu party."

  I shivered, though the temperature still hung in the low eighties. Sly wasn't the same person I met upon my first arrival in Dodsville. His usually sarcastic wit was gone now, and his sense of humor was forced. His thoughts had edges on them, like lead weights on fishing lines.

  "Tomorrow," I said to brighten the mood in the car, "everything will be back to normal." Please, God, let that be the truth.

  Sly turned to me. "Tell that one to Tabitha." Then he silently faced the pavement in front of him again.

  The sunset had completely dissipated by the time we turned off the main highway and onto the county trunk that would lead to our undesired destination. Sly pulled into the parking lot of the Country Bar and Grill and parked between two cars. Three other automobiles littered the lot, so our Buick didn't stand out.

  We exited the car in silence, grabbing the pocket flashlights we brought along, and walked side by side down the left lane of the deserted county trunk highway. A few scattered cumulus clouds on the western horizon were still visible, though shadowed in deep blue, forecasting a beautiful day for tomorrow. Or was that only a myth? To our right a pasture undulated for about a half a mile, where it met head on a line of deep green pine trees. To our left stood the largest forest in the county. As I peered into it, I realized anyone could be in there watching us with an interested eye; and we wouldn't even know it.

  "Sly?" I asked at length, before Wickerman's came into view over the next hilltop. "Do you really believe that Melissa is still alive somewhere in there? I mean, what's to stop him from turning her into one of his own kind?"

  Sly cleared the phlegm from his throat. I could tell he wished I hadn't brought the subject of Melissa up at this point. "If he still loves her," he replied, his voice cracking slightly, "we have nothing to worry about. He wouldn't do anything to harm her." He turned to look at me. "You didn't see the way he treated her when he was alive."

  I nodded, but still had my doubts. I'd seen love turn selfish too many times.

  As we climbed the short hill in front of us, Wickerman's slowly became visible over the tops of the trees. Dusk lay heavy on the land, but night hadn't taken over so completely that we couldn't yet see. A thin crescent moon arched in the sky overhead, giving off so little light of its own as to be virtually useless to us. The roof of the house angled in our direction, so no upstairs windows faced us. Yet the lower level windows would soon pop over the horizon, and Sly and I veered off the highway and into the darkening forest for cover. No use taking any chances at this point in the game.

  The early part of the summer had been wet, and now it was hot--perfect weather for the breeding of mosquitoes. We both held back curses as we slapped at the back of our necks in frustration. I looked down at my pants, thanking God I had enough sense to change into long pants before leaving the house, and spotted two expected wood ticks crawling around, looking for a crevice to dig in and disappear. I snapped them off with my index finger, knowing that there were quite likely more of them on me in places I didn't even care to think about. This seemed to me to be too much like the visit Reed and I paid to Wickerman's a half a lifetime ago.

  Frogs and crickets began their nocturnal tribute to Mother Nature, while the birds quieted for the evening. The only other sound was that of Sly and me, trudging through the brush, along with the occasional slap of hand on skin.

  Sly stopped suddenly and held out his left arm in front of me to do the same. The south side of Wickerman's house was now barely visible through the trees. We still had a good thirty yards to hike before we broke out of the forest into the high weeds of the yard, and if we had anything to say to each other before going in, now was the time.

  "So," said Sly, as if taking the hint, "what do you want to do?"

  Go back. "Good question," I replied. "Is it dark enough yet?" In the forest where we stood night had shut out any signs of daylight, but Wickerman's house, out in the open air, was still in a l
ight glow. Another ten minutes, I thought, and everything around us would be swallowed by the dark.

  Sly slapped at another mosquito on his neck. "I've never been inside for any length of time," he said. "If we wait until it's completely dark, I won't be able to find my way around in there." He nodded in the direction of the house.

  "You'll be with me," I replied, brushing another wood tick off my pants. “I can still remember every crook and cranny in that place.”

  Sly shook his head. "Uh, uh. I don't think it's such a good notion that we're together. We should split up."

  Not a good idea at all, I thought, and told him so. "Four arms in a struggle are much better than two."

  "Yet," he said, almost too nonchalantly, "if they happen to capture one of us, then there is still the other to do some heavy-duty rescuing. You get it?" He brushed a mosquito off his forearm. "If we're together, they capture one of us they capture the both of us. Then where the hell are we? Up the proverbial creek, that's where."

  I stared mutely at him. He wasn't being reasonable, and it worried me. More than a little.

  "We each take a floor," Sly continued after realizing I had no reply. "You take the bottom. Me, I'll take the upper." He put a hand on my shoulder. "Hell, we don't even know if we are looking in the right place."

  Maybe I would be better off by myself in there, I thought. I only wished now that I hadn't given the sole gun to Sly.

  He started pushing his way through the final brush toward the house, and, when I didn't immediately follow, stopped and waved for me to come along. "Don't argue with me on this one, Stephen," he said in a hushed, but stern voice. I could barely make out his silhouette in the darkness.

  Reluctantly, I followed him to the edge of the forest. There we hunched down on all fours, now that we had lost our cover. My left arm gave me a slight tang of pain, as if to say it wasn't ready for such an adventure as the one that we now were undertaking. In front of us lay about twenty yards of high grasses and weeds, a driveway filled with almost as many weeds as gravel, and Wickerman's house--silent and waiting. We stayed perfectly still for a minute, taking in the situation, not even so much as noticing the mosquitoes at our necks. I hoped to at least see some telling movement at one of the windows. But there was nothing. The wind picked up a little, and the door on the front of the barn creaked open and shut, slamming hard with a bang and opening again slowly. A bat flew out of a broken window on the second story of the house and flew recklessly around the yard, snatching bugs in midair.

  I felt unexceptionably safe right where I was, and just the thought of going once again into that house in front of me now caused me to shudder.

  But Melissa could be inside.

  Sly put an arm around me. "I know this all seems so unreal to you right this moment," he whispered reassuringly. "But trust me on this one. OK?"

  I looked into his eyes for a second, but turned my attention back to the house without a reply. I could think of nothing positive to say.

  Sly patted me on the shoulder and removed his arm from around me. He, too, stared mutely at the house.

  After a minute of silence, he sat back on his heels and said, "I'm going in now." He turned slowly to meet my glare.

  "We should go back, Sly," I said in a whisper, my voice shaking. "This is too much for us." An image of Melissa shaking her head at me flashed briefly over my brain.

  Sly ignored my comment. "I want you to wait a couple of minutes and then follow me in. Be sure to give enough time. If anyone is watching, which I'm sure is a distinct possibility if they're here, they will see me going in by myself. Maybe they won't take the time to watch for a partner. He, she, or it, will have to keep its attention on me." He paused, as if for effect. "You with me?"

  I tried desperately to go over his logic in my brain, but the gray cells there weren't cohesive anymore. I shook my head in an attempt to shake out the building fog.

  "Are you with me?" Sly asked again, this time with force.

  I nodded. "Though maybe I should go in first," I said. Maybe taking the initiative would wake me up to where I needed to be for this. "After all, I know the interior of that house. You don't."

  He tapped the gun, which hung out of the front of his pants slightly. "I have this," he replied, smiling. Then he patted me on the back one more time and, without any more talk, began crawling through the weeds toward Wickerman's.

  "Be careful," I whispered, before he got out of hearing range.

  He stopped and looked back at me. "You, too," he said.

  “Careful’s my middle name.”

  He disappeared into the tall grass, but I could still make out his position by the movement of the grass tops. And if I could see him from where I was, then anyone watching from any of the windows in the house would also be able to see.

  Not dark enough yet, I thought. We should have waited another ten minutes for complete cover. But there was nothing I could do about it now, short of calling out for Sly to return, and giving away any possible, though unrealistic, advantage that we had. So I remained mute and waited my turn, fidgeting on my knees for a comfortable position that was impossible to find.

  A few minutes after Sly had left me, though the time actually seemed more like an hour, he appeared suddenly on the steps of the porch leading up and into the house. I could barely make him out in the darkness now. Yet, I saw him glance briefly in my direction before reaching for the doorknob. There would be a lock on the door, I thought to myself, and I felt guilty that I had forgotten to warn him. To my pleasant surprise, however, he opened the door without a hitch, and disappeared quietly inside.

  I strained my eyes through the night to the upstairs windows, knowing that was where he would be heading. I thought I saw some movement in the first window down the hallway, but, of course, couldn't be sure. Something moved past a window at the end of the hall a few seconds later--too soon to be Sly, I thought--and vanished almost as quickly as it appeared. Sly had donned a black shirt, as I had, before we left Julie's house, and by now he would be camouflaged enough not to be seen.

  Though I didn't like that movement at the end of the hall. I didn't like it at all.

  Enough time had passed now for me to make my move. Think of Melissa, I thought, to add courage to my soul--something that was critically lacking at the moment. Checking to make sure I still had my flashlight tucked safely in my back pocket, I began my crawl forward. I whispered Melissa's name under my breath over and over again as I moved along, keeping my head down and away from those haunting upstairs windows. A fear I never felt before rose slowly and quietly within me. "Melissa will be there," I said louder than a whisper. "She will be." Because I knew now that if this were nothing but a wild goose chase, then all was lost, and she was gone from me forever.

  I could feel the building getting closer and closer, as if it gave off an aura of its own--a force shield maybe, trying to keep me back.

  Stopping to see just how close I was, I raised my head above the tops of the grass. The house loomed only ten feet in front of me. A dark window glared down at me as if disappointed at my cowardice. "But I'm doing it," I whispered to the glass. "I really am."

  I heard a creak come from somewhere within the house, but there was no way I could be sure it was Sly who made it. The wind had picked up its pace a bit, and the barn door was slamming more regularly than before. The treetops behind me swayed slightly from side to side, shaking their heads in disbelief. They thought I was being foolish.

  "Uh, uh," I replied silently to them. "No one in there knows that I have arrived." They'd be too busy with Sly about now. Maybe he hadn't lost all of his marbles like I had thought. I ducked back down into the cover of the weeds and continued my way to the porch.

  Just as I had reached the steps and was about to dart up them and into the house, I heard voices coming from the road behind me. I didn't see anyone, as they were still behind the leading edge of the forest, so I shot up the stairs, through the open door, and hid behind the inside wall. Someone
laughed, but I couldn't make out what was being said. I did know, however, that no one would be out for a casual walk out here in the country, especially with the horror that was coming down on Dodsville. They were too far away from the safety of the city lights.

  The dark, shadowy outlines of three persons appeared around the edge of the forest.

  "Just keep walking," I whispered, forgetting for the moment the house behind me. Yet, somehow I knew they wouldn't--and they didn't disappoint me. They turned when they reached Wickerman's weed-filled driveway and headed toward the front porch.

  Where I was standing.

  "Damn," I whispered, and was about to shoot into the main house and hide when I spotted another group of three appear around the edge of the forest. What the hell was going down?

  I turned and reached for the inside door to open it, when I realized just what I'd be walking into. My heart slammed up into my throat, and I froze for a second. Another burst of laughter just outside the house snapped me out of my trance, and I turned the knob and opened the door, wincing at each and every creak that it made. When the space was open just enough for me to squeeze through, that was exactly what I did. The first threesome was at the bottom of the steps.

  The inside of the house was almost in complete and utter darkness. Only a trifle of light came through the few broken windows, and I stood perfectly still for a whole second, hoping Sly would be in sight so I could warn him. And, in the back of my mind, but prevalent enough just the same, I searched for any other signs of life. Life that I didn't want to meet up with right then. But the room in front of me appeared empty.

  I heard footsteps enter the porch behind me; though, whoever they were, they decided for some reason to no longer speak. They couldn't know I was there, not yet. But their silence was a bit unnerving. It was time to move or be discovered, so I spotted a doorway out of the room I was in and dashed through it, hopping over cracked boards at my feet--when I could see them in the virtual darkness. My eyes had adjusted slightly, but not enough to see clearly. Once on the other side of the threshold, as the outside door opened right behind me, I spotted an old couch pushed up against the far corner. No one moved in this new room, and I had no time to find Sly and warn him, as I heard distinctly the creaking of floorboards in the anteroom I had first entered and stood in only a few seconds earlier.