Blood in the Woods

by J. P. Willie

  What I saw next made me wish they had kept the candles unlit, for all around that long table, the floor was stained with dried blood.

  It looked to me as if someone had taken a bucket of the stuff and dumped it all over the hardwood; most of it permanently stained a dark, brownish-red; most of the puddled globs of blood were flaking away, much the same as old, spilled milk.

  I forced my eyes away from the floor and peered around the room, eying warily the pentagrams that were spray painted on all of the windows that were unbroken, and the myriad dense cobwebs that spanned high up across the corners of the room. There was a thick layer of dust on the windowsills, in which sat the fat, flickering candles.

  Over by the entrance to a hallway that led to the back of the house, there sat a huge drum, which I guessed to be the source of the rhythmic beats Momma, Hunter and I had been so terrified by.

  I examined the long table once more, noting that the cloth covering it was solid black, and covered in desiccated blood stains, and my guts sank at the realization of what those stains could mean.

  Scott and Mitch came back inside the house through the busted-up front door. “She’ll be fine, as long as I get her over to Daren’s real quick,” Mitch said, running his fingers through his long mane of dark hair. “You think you can keep these four under control while I’m gone?”

  “Not a problem,” Scott said with a snarl and a sideways glance at me.

  “Good.”

  “Woo-hoo!” Scott shouted out and jumped into the air. “You boys are gonna wish you’d never shown your faces around here.”

  “Please... don’t kill... us,” I sobbed, breaking my silence.

  “Shut your fucking mouth, boy!” Mitch hollered. He strutted over to me like some malevolent drill sergeant and squatted down to eye-level, resting his buttocks on the back of his heels. “You never should’ve gotten involved, son. But you did and now you’re going to pay the price for your stupidity.”

  “Please, sir, for the love of God, please let us go,” I implored, my eyes brimming with fresh tears.

  “God?” Mitch asked, cocking his head to one side like an inquisitive puppy, “There is no God – only the Devil. He is the only God.”

  “Please – please,” Jack prayed, staring heavenwards as he squirmed closer to me.

  “You can pray all you want to, gentlemen,” Mitch lectured as he gazed over to Jack, “but no God will save you tonight, because your asses belong to me and my God – and we want your blood.” Mitch got slowly to his feet, his huge frame towering over. “So I’d save your breath for your screams.”

  Mitch then motioned Scott over to Chase. “Have your way with this one first,” he said without emotion, “and do what you wish with this one,” he pointed at Justin’s unconscious body. Then he turned slowly around, his menacing demeanor aimed squarely at Jack and me. “But don’t touch these two; I have something special planned for them when I get back,” Mitch growled.

  “Not a problem,” Scott said with a sadistic leer.

  “I’ll be back in ten minutes, tops.”

  Mitch walked away and made his way back outside. The sound of the truck’s engine firing up resounded through the windows, fading quickly into the distance. Jack and I began crying hysterically as our imaginations ran riot with thoughts of our promised fate.

  Scott sauntered over to Chase and grabbed him by the hair. Chase’s cheeks puffed in and out as he was pulled to his feet, and I knew the poor kid was hyperventilating. Feeling helpless, I brought my tied hands up to my face and wiped my tears away.

  “Come on, you little fuck,” Scott growled as he dragged Chase along by the hair, the kid hopping along as fast as his bound legs would allow, “we’re gonna have some fun!”

  All of a sudden, Justin’s body began twitching and shaking, like he was having a seizure or something, but as I watched his eyelids attempting to open, I knew he was just waking up.

  “Justin,” I muttered, “come on, Justin, wake up.”

  Justin quit shaking and slowly opened his eyes.

  “Well look who’s awake,” Scott said, acting all surprised, “seems you woke up just in time for the party.” Scott kicked Justin in the chest and sent him hard into the mantle. The ugly guy then lifted Chase up onto the table and rolled him over on his belly – I could hear Chase’s muffled screams from behind the duct tape that sealed his mouth.

  “Leave him alone!” I yelled.

  A swift kick to the side of my head from Scott sent me tumbling into Jack’s lap.

  “All of you need to keep your motherfucking mouths shut, or I will take out your intestines and feed them to you!” Scott screamed, his voice thick with menace.

  Chase was doing his best to roll from the table, but Scott grasped his legs and pulled him halfway off the table. Chase was now bent over the table with Scott standing right behind him. I pushed myself up from Jack’s lap, back to upright, and Scott turned to face us.

  “If any of you try to get away, or even think about escaping, it will only make things worse,” Scott snarled. He then reached into his inner trench coat pocket and pulled out a knife – the same one he’d sliced my foot open with – which he brought down hard into the table right next to Chase, making all of us jump.

  Scott removed his coat and threw it to the side of the table. He leaned forward, wrapping his hands around Chase’s waist, sneering over at us and moments later, Chase’s pants and underwear were down around his ankles.

  Chase’s screams bellowed out, his terror in the hands of the monster palpable. Scott brought his hands around front of him and unfastened his own pants, and in the blink of an eye, he too stood before us with his pants to his knees. Scott turned to one side for a split second to grab his knife, and I shuddered to see that his penis was semi-erect.

  Scott lined himself up directly behind Chase, and I watched in horror as he brought the knife down hard into Chase’s back, not once, but five times. And each time the knife entered the kid’s flesh, Chase’s body lunged forward with the impact, his legs straining, calf muscles bulging. Done with the knife, Scott laid it down gently on the edge of the table, all the while Chase’s agonizing screams reverberated throughout the old house. Scott moved his right hand around and began masturbating – and while most boys do it, sitting there under the mantle all tied up and watching a grown man doing it mutilated my soul; it was like watching a train wreck – I wanted to look away, but couldn’t. None of us could.

  Scott shifted his hips back and then advanced, but Chase’s butt cheeks were locked tightly together. Scott leaned over, pulled Chase’s head back by his hair and ripped the duct tape from his mouth, and agonized cries filled the room.

  “Stop fighting it!” Scott screamed. He leaned forward and punched Chase in the back of the head as the poor kid screamed and tried to break free.

  “Stop it!” Justin yelled.

  “You’re killing him!” Jack squealed.

  Scott ignored them and spat on his penis, pausing a moment to spread some of the spit on Chase’s anus with his hand. And then he thrust forward.

  Jack leaned his head up against my shoulder and cried like he’d never stop, and I cried along as the sounds of Chase’s pain filled our ears. The acrid stink of feces and blood wafted over to us, and I threw up, hot, stinging bile that squirted from my mouth and nose to splash noisily on the floor. I glanced over at Justin and saw that he was in complete shock; he didn’t even look like Justin anymore.

  “You like that, baby?” Scott grunted, grabbing his knife once more and stabbing Chase over and over, until Chase’s cries faded to nothing more than soft whimpering. I knew then that he was dying, bleeding out, and there was absolutely nothing any of us could do for him; the best we could do was sit and await our turn to die.

  I turned to Jack.

  “Pray,” I whispered.

  Jack nodded his head okay and closed his eyes. I looked across to Justin, but his eyes were already closed and his lips were moving silently.

&nbs
p; I leaned my head back and prayed to God. I asked him to forgive me for everything I’d done wrong in my life. I asked him for a quick and painless death, even though I knew in my heart that it wouldn’t be. I asked for Momma, Hunter and Memaw to be able to live long and happy lives. I told God to let Pepaw know I would soon be on my way to see him...

  Just then, there came the noise of something hitting the floor with a dull, metallic clatter. Startled, my eyes flew open – I hadn’t even gotten to say Amen.

  As it turned out, I didn’t need to; God had just answered my prayer.

  There, on the floor and unseen by Scott, lay the blood-soaked knife, a little more than a few inches behind his feet. I felt a weird energy flow through my body, like the time I stuck my fingers in an outlet just to see what would happen. My mind began to be working again, racing ahead of me despite the atrocities happening in that old, derelict house; I found the will to survive again, and I knew that if my friends could see that, then just maybe it would rally them to fight back.

  I thought no more, and acted purely on instinct. Leaning forward quietly, careful to not make any sound at all, I extended my tied hands towards the knife. Jack and Justin looked on, silent and wide eyed with terror, and shifted uncomfortably against their restraints. Straining, I slid my hand over the hilt of the knife and picked the thing up, it felt cool and slick against my sweating palm, its freshly honed blade glinting keen in the candlelight.

  I kept my eyes on Scott, praying that he would not realize that his precious knife was missing from the table. Grasping the knife, I sat back slowly, the faint moans and groans from Chase prickling my ears, and stretched my upper thighs to place the sides of my knees upon the floor. I sliced through the tape that held my feet together; it was off with only two strokes. I reached over to Justin and he extended his hands to me. I cut through the tape on his wrists and handed him the knife so he could return the favor.

  With both of my arms free, I hacked away the remainder of the tape on Jack and Justin, quicker than you could shake a stick at. I then grabbed my two friends by their napes and pulled them into me.

  “When I stand up, I’m gonna jab this knife into the ugly bastard’s fucking neck,” I snarled quietly. “And when I do, run like hell out the back door.” I said no more and stood to my feet, feeling just like one of my imaginary ninja assassins; Jack and Justin followed suit.

  Scott had yet to look over to check on us, the sick bastard was otherwise occupied. So, I crept up behind him, with the knife held tightly against my chest, the fear in my heart turning quickly to pure, burning rage. I knew full well that if I didn’t incapacitate – or better yet, kill – him, that would pretty much be the end of me.

  I also figured that it’d be far easier to get away from one maniac rather than two; Mitch hadn’t come back yet, I hadn’t heard his truck pulling up at the front of the old house, so I guessed we had time on our side. I worried he’d be back soon enough with our surprise, and I had no intention of hanging around to see what that was.

  I brought the knife away from my chest and lifted it high above my head. Scott was a good four inches taller than me, so I had to make sure I had the right amount of leverage to actually do some damage. I moved in closer as he violated Justin’s dying friend, my heart pumping hard with adrenaline, anxiety and anger. I lifted the knife up a little higher, standing firm on my tip-toes, and then slammed it down as hard as I could into Scott’s jugular.

  I yanked the knife out of his neck and staggered backwards. Scott was squealing like a stuck pig, and I felt like He-Man. Scott’s shrill, womanlike scream gargled and bubbled from his blood-filled throat. As he slumped forward over Chase’s body, scarlet arcs jetted from the ragged hole in his neck like water from a split hose. He clamped a hand to his neck in a vain attempt to stem the bleeding, but all that achieved was fine sprays of blood splattering every which way, some of it splashed my face, making me gag.

  “Let’s go, damn it!” Jack yelled, happy I’d done enough damage to our captor to ensure he wouldn’t be chasing us again any time soon.

  I held onto the knife as Jack pulled me in front of him and pushed me into motion, my legs finally deciding to work. I was shocked to the core at what I’d just done, but I was glad I did it – that son-of-a-bitch more than deserved it.

  Justin turned into the hallway first and sprinted his way down the hall. Jack and I followed behind closely, but before we got halfway down the dry-rotted hallway, I heard a sound behind us that chilled me to the bone.

  It was the unmistakable noise of a circular saw, the kind Pepaw used in his shed. It was accompanied by a scream of pure, unadulterated fury from Mitch the mailman as he stormed into the house – he was back.

  “Get the door open, Justin!” I barked, my voice squeaky. “He’s coming!”

  Justin screamed at the top of his lungs for help again as he raced towards the back door, I felt Jack’s hand still on my back as he pushed me forward.

  “Go damn it, go!” Jack was panic-stricken.

  I ran down the dark hallway as the horrendous sound of that saw gained on us, its high-pitched buzzing shrill in my ears. Then Justin was at the door, fiddling with the knob with trembling hands shaking, his sweaty palms failing to find their grip.

  I was only a few feet away from him. “Open the door!” I cried, and before I crashed into him, Justin wrenched the door opened and ran out into the night.

  We all charged out of the back door, but the second my foot hit the ground, Jack stepped on my back heel and I fell flat on my face, the knife spinning out in front of me.

  Jack stopped to pick me up.

  “Shut the door, shut the door! I yelled, my voice high with panic.

  Jack left me on the ground and turned towards the door, seeing that Mitch was almost to it. The man wore a heavy, black robe that covered him from head to toe, with Devil horns that stuck out on both sides of its hood, and he looked terrifying.

  Mitch carried the cordless circular saw out in front of his chest, and he had a look of vengeance on his face. Undeterred, Jack made it back to the house and slammed the door shut just in time, the saw blade ripping right through the rotting wood, stopping just inches from Jack’s ear.

  “Help me, Jody! I can’t keep it shut on my own!”

  I scrabbled to my feet and ran over, grabbing the doorknob and pulling back with all my strength. Justin was nowhere to be seen.

  “Justin!” I called out.

  The saw’s blade spun relentlessly as it quickly turned the door into sawdust, hacking chunks from the wood as if it were of little substance.

  “Justin, we need help!” Jack screamed.

  We could hear Mitch’s angry shouts from behind the door, loud even over the noise of the saw. He yanked the saw from the slice it had just made and slammed it into the door again at a different spot. Sawdust blew out from the blade and fell down the back of my shirt, and the warm, woody smell reminded me of the days I’d spent watching Pepaw working in his shed.

  I looked behind me as I pulled my weight against the door, with hopes of seeing Justin rushing heroically to our aid, but he was nowhere to be seen. Instead, I saw several old tree stumps and a couple of 2x4 boards next to an old chicken pen that was all rusted up and falling apart. The knife I had dropped was there in the grass, and a little further on from that – mere yards away – embedded in one of the tree stumps, was an axe.

  The saw quit spinning and Mitch yanked violently on the door, screaming at us like a crazy person. “Let go!!” he yelled, “let go of the fucking door!”

  My body was yanked forward on his pull, my arms were getting fatigued.

  “Don’t let go!” Jack implored, his eyes scared and tearful.

  “I can’t hold it much longer!”

  Mitch’s next tug pulled me forward even more and I let go of the knob, and once Jack realized I’d let go, he did too. The door swung open halfway, and Mitch pulled the saw from out of the ruined wood, his face twisted in an ugly, reddened grimace.


  Immediately, I turned tail and ran towards the chicken coop as the dreadful sound of the circular saw started up again, with Jack close behind. I dashed over to the pile of boards next to the rotted chicken pen and grabbed one of the smallest 2x4s, turning to face Mitch.

  “Aaaargh!” Mitch screamed at me from beneath his hood, his voice barely human, almost as if the man was demonically possessed. He stood there, legs open wide in a defensive stance, the circular saw spinning by his side, his face an image of pure hate.

  My adrenaline kicked into overdrive. “Come on!” I yelled at him, bringing the board up like a baseball bat, all ready to fight for my life.

  Mitch faked a lunge forward with the saw, toying with me, and I was stupid enough to take the bait. I swung at him with the board, and as it came close to connecting with his ribs, he hopped back and bum-rushed me. My scrawny arms weren’t strong enough to bring the board back around fast enough to take another swing, and Mitch rammed me with his monstrous shoulders and sent me crashing to the ground.

  Instinctively, I pulled the 2x4 over my chest for protection as Mitch stepped forward and pressed his foot into my testicles. I howled like the Rougarou and Mitch pressed the saw down into the board, preventing me from moving at all.

  “Ohhh – God!” I screamed in pain and pushed up even harder on the board.

  “Scream, boy!” Mitch snarled, his lip curled in a cruel sneer.

  I had little choice; my poor testes had at least two hundred pounds of grown man stomping on them. Sawdust flurried about my face as the saw cut through the 2x4 like butter, and my vision blurred as my eyelashes collected the dust.

  Mitch released his foot from my testicles and brought his knee up to his chest. He then stomped on the board, splitting it in two, and my boney chest caught the rest of the impact from his size twelve. It felt like I’d been hit by a train, and I rolled over to my side, coughing and wheezing.

  Mitch took one hand off the saw, grabbed me by the back of my pants, and rolled me over. He fell to his knees on top of me, shimmying forward and placing both knees on my arms so I couldn’t move – just like I used to do to Hunter when we play fought. Part of Mitch’s robe, cloak, or whatever the damn thing was, covered some of my face and I could only see out of one eye.