by Carver Pike
“The truth is, we were evil. I now think we were always evil. We cared more about success and surviving than we did about our own families. Pride. That’s what it was. We made the decision to live off the land and pride would not let us fail. Even if it meant giving up our children.”
It seemed to Daisy that the women caved and, even with their sadness, they allowed the men to convince them it was for the greater good.
Days passed.
The visitors were leaving. She watched as the village prepared a goodbye dinner for them. The women prepared a wonderful soup of corn and meat from a dead villager. What had started as cannibalism for necessity had become a normal way of life. They wouldn’t kill for food but if someone died, they wouldn’t let the meat go to waste. The women seemed genuinely happy as they prepared the soup, sprinkling herbs and seasonings into it.
That night everyone slept again. Everyone except the women.
The women worked together to drag the sleeping visitors over to the fire. They stretched the bodies out, opening up their arms and legs. The three men lay opened up on the ground, and for the first time, Daisy saw the other two men’s faces. They looked like exact replicas of the one man she’d seen several times. The three visitors slept, knocked out cold from whatever the women had put into the soup.
Each woman retrieved a giant rock hidden in the tree line. They approached the sleeping visitors and twelve women each took a place over a limb.
They counted together and then lifted their rocks and slammed them down.
Shins snapped, arms broke, knees crushed, and the visitors screamed in agony. Their heads were left intact so the men could feel every second of the agony. The women cackled as they lifted the rocks and dropped them again, over and over.
Daisy felt sick to her stomach but she couldn’t stop watching. She was captivated by the women’s vengeance.
Then, working together, they each grabbed a shattered limb and lifted the crumbled bodies up off the ground. They counted off and pitched the men into the fire. They celebrated, cheering as the men burned, until suddenly the women began to scream.
Fire rose from the bare feet of the women, consuming them the way it consumed the men they’d killed.
“The visitors were demons,” Bjorn’s voice spoke to her. “I know that now. And our women so foolishly thought they could dispose of such evil.”
Daisy snapped out of it, and yanked her hand away from Bjorn’s head. Her chest heaved up and down as she fought to control her breath.
“A woman’s rage is a scary thing, but nothing is more dangerous than a mother’s wrath,” Bjorn said.
He raised his head up and sniffed the air. Then a smile grew on his lips.
“I suppose I don’t have to tell you that. You are quite the fighter, aren’t you?”
“What do you mean by that?” she asked.
“First, let me finish the story. Our children and our women were gone. Soon after, the sun beat stronger than ever before. The rains stopped again, the rivers dried up, and the corn died. We suffered great loss. Some of the men left, some died, and the rest of us, maybe ten of us in all, knew what we had to do. We began impregnating the nearby women. We did very bad things. We held women against their will and when the babies were born, we pitched them into the fire. And we became….”
“Scarecrows.”
“Forced to spend our days as the demons we’d become, fugleskremsel, protectors of the land. Our lifeblood became the thing we apparently held dearest to our hearts, even more so than our own children. It became the harvest, the corn. Satan himself had granted our wish. Everlasting corn for a sacrifice. We would never grow old, but we were trapped in this life, doomed to stand watch over the fields and at night, search for women to impregnate so we’d always have a fresh sacrifice.”
“Dawn.”
“Your sister? Such a sweet girl. I have seen her before too. I hid in your closet once. I’d come to your room by accident when your mother didn’t come see me.”
“That was you.”
“Yes.”
“And why have they put you here?”
“Shame,” he said.
She didn’t understand, and once he realized that, he went on.
“I was to impregnate your mother. You see, when we do it, it happens almost instantaneously. Your mother should have gotten pregnant every night by me, and the babies, well, they’d be hell spawn for the most part. They’d be born quickly, within a matter of days, and would be promptly burned alive. This is the key to keeping the corn alive and the corn is our lifeblood. Sacrifice is life. But…for some reason…it wouldn’t happen with me. Something wasn’t right. At first I simply couldn’t get her pregnant. I was a failure and since I couldn’t contribute, I was forced to live my life as a scarecrow by day and a man chained to a wooden post like some sort of puppet by night.”
He paused and looked at Daisy.
“Then, as she kept visiting me here in the barn, I didn’t even want to try anymore. I made her take off the necklace. The locket. None of that mattered in the end. One of the others took her and impregnated her over and over again. Your mother kept the corn growing for a long time. Now, with those lockets, you and your sister will do the same.”
“What locket?”
“The one your sister wears now. The one you’re wearing.”
Daisy looked down at her chest and pulled on a dainty chain that held a locket stuffed under her shirt, between her breasts. Her father had given it to her a long time ago. He said it belonged to the family. It had belonged to her mother and her mother’s mother and so on. She turned it over and looked at the back. In the dark stable she couldn’t make out the writing but she knew what it said. She’d read it over and over again over the years, wondering what had happened to her mother. Wondering what had driven her mad.
“Diablo Snuff,” she said as her finger touched the grooves of the inscription. “What does it mean?”
“Power. Great, evil power,” he said. “Those lockets are what give us the power over the women. It puts them in some kind of stupor. The ash inside is from the original fires that killed the three visitors. You see, they were some kind of demons themselves. I know that now. They’d been sent by the devil to set us down this path. Their ashes are in that locket and in your sister’s. As long as you’re wearing it, you’re in great danger.”
Daisy remembered how turned on she’d felt upstairs when she’d seen her sister getting fucked. She’d been instantly horny.
She ripped the pendant from her neck and threw it as far away as possible. She heard it smack the ground and slide away.
“I will free you,” Daisy said, “If you help me.”
“Help you what? They are outside the barn. Don’t you understand? You are quite valuable to them.”
“Why would I be valuable?” she asked as she began searching for something to help free the man.
“Your baby will be natural. And a natural baby…well…we haven’t had one of those in a long time. It should keep the crops growing for longer than one of our hell spawn.”
“What do you mean my baby?” she asked.
He sniffed the air again and grinned.
“I mean the little one that grows inside you.”
Daisy fell onto her ass. She clutched her stomach and felt a sinking feeling in her chest. Could it be possible? Was she pregnant? With Matt’s baby? She wished she could be excited and proud and ready to love the child but instead all she felt was fear and regret and remorse. Those things outside were waiting to rob her of God’s gift. They wanted to take her baby from her and toss it into the fire.
“If what you say is true,” she said through gritted teeth and eyes filling with tears. “They will not touch my fucking baby. You said there’s nothing more dangerous than a mother’s wrath. Well they haven’t witnessed wrath yet.”
She climbed to her feet. If there was a baby inside her, wouldn’t she feel something different? She didn’t. Still, she felt obligated to touch he
r stomach, to pat the flesh and promise the baby everything would be okay.
“Fire,” he said. “Fire is the only thing that scares a scarecrow.”
“I thought you hated that name.”
“Use fire,” he said, ignoring her.
She searched the barn quickly, and found what she needed. Large gas cans sat next to the broken down tractor. She had no idea how long they’d been there, but they were full, and heavy, and would work perfectly. She poured some on the ground and looked around until she found a box of matches over by a workman’s lantern. She struck a match and tossed it into the small puddle at her feet.
The dry hay caught quickly and the fire spread much more rapidly than she expected. She looked back at Bjorn, who’d closed his eyes and rested his head on the ground. He’d accepted his fate. A small part of her considered freeing him, but he was a monster like the rest. He’d been punished, not for refusing to trick her mother, but for his inability to do his duty.
“Burn, you bastard,” she said before turning and walking to the rear of the barn.
She knew there was no backdoor. She’d been in the barn enough as a child to know the only way out was through a small window on the second floor loft and the main door at the front. She’d never be able to drag the gas cans up the ladder and out the window, much less lower them to the ground without spilling it all. She thought the burning barn might reach the field, if the wind was strong enough to carry the flames, but it was too risky. She couldn’t be sure it would work.
She needed to get the gas cans out of the burning barn. The cans were heavy, but she was able to drag them one at a time to the back. The heat licked at her face and body, threatening to light her clothes on fire. Smoke filled the air rapidly and she knew she needed to get out before it was too late.
The one good thing about an old, rotting barn, is the weak boards holding it up. She knew it wouldn’t take much to break through them so she took the pitchfork she’d considered stabbing Bjorn with, and shoved it between two of the planks in the rear wall. A strong push was all it took to snap the boards. Then she went to work on the next two and two more after that. Soon there was a gaping hole at the rear of the barn.
Daisy expected to be chased once she escaped. She’d thought about ditching the pitchfork, but it was the best weapon she’d found, so instead, she shoved the long wooden handle through both of the metal gas can handles and held the pitchfork on both sides, pulling the cans across the damp grass. She needed to get them to the front of the house.
A glance over her shoulder told her the scarecrows had disappeared. They’d probably run back into the fields to escape the flames. She hoped the wind would kick in and work to her advantage.
“God,” she said softly. “I know I haven’t always been a good girl. I haven’t done the things I probably should. I haven’t settled down and gone to church and prayed like I know I should have. But I’m not a bad person. Neither is Dawn. We’re just two girls trying to find our way in the world and right now we could really use your help. Please help me get these cans to the truck. And please help me find Dawn and Matt and get the hell out of here before the whole ranch goes up in flames.”
“Daisy!” she heard Matt yell from somewhere in the distance.
She looked up at the house and saw Matt hanging through the broken window. Blood ran down the side of the house, all of it coming from his shoulder. He was hurt bad, but he was alive, and that’s what she’d asked for.
“My sister?” she asked, never stopping her forward movement.
Matt disappeared into the house before giving her his answer. Suddenly, he came barreling around the side of the house, limping, but moving quickly.
“What are you doing?” he asked. “We have to go. Just go to the truck. We’ll leave!”
“Matt, where’s my sister?” she asked, still dragging the cans.
He grabbed one side of the bar and helped pull. His face twisted in pain and she knew he was giving his all to help her.
“She’s upstairs, passed out,” he said. “I think they thought I was dead. Those things…those…scarecrows…whatever they are, they ran outside when they saw the fire.”
They made it around to the front of the house and over to Matt’s truck. Daisy kicked at the rusted tailgate, opening the holes at the corroded bottom even more.
“Help me,” she ordered.
She tried to lift one of the gas cans but her arms were exhausted. Matt took it from her and lifted it up, but with one good arm, he couldn’t do it on his own. Daisy helped him pour it into the bed of the truck. They did the same with the second. The gas instantly started to run out of the truck and onto the ground.
“Give me your keys,” she said.
“Whatever you’re doing,” Matt said. “I’m doing it with you. Let me help you.”
“Give me the keys and go back in there and get my sister. Get the keys to her car and meet me back out here in a second.”
Matt grabbed her arm.
“I’m not leaving you out here,” he said.
She leaned up and kissed his lips.
“I love you, Matt. You have to trust me. If you want to help me, go get my sister and her keys.”
He didn’t move.
“Dammit, Matt. Go. We’re wasting time.”
He turned away from her and ran to the house. She jumped behind the wheel of the truck, started it, and took off for the cornfield. She hit the wall of corn and was blinded by golden stalks collapsing in the limited illumination of the headlights. Like driving with a blindfold on, she drove the truck onward, turning to the right and left, hoping the gasoline was dripping out of the back the way she needed it to. The truck snaked around the cornfield, slithering left and right, dousing the corn.
The trickle coming from the parked truck a minute before was slow enough to last a little while but fast enough to provide a steady stream.
She screamed as the first scarecrow appeared in front of the truck. Its face twisted in rage and its eyes burned fiery red. It tried to scream at her, pulling its lips open, stretching its mouth beyond what it should be capable of through the stitches. She slammed into it and it leapt onto the hood of the truck, swinging at the window, scratching the glass. It roared with the fury of a demon, an unnatural sound that made her tremble.
Daisy swung the truck to the right and the scarecrow flew off to the left.
The next scarecrow was larger and seemed to be made of cement stuffing as it smashed into the grill. The truck barreled over it but an angry hiss sounded off from somewhere in the engine.
“Fuck!” she yelled.
She couldn’t afford to have the truck die on her out here in the cornfield. She swung the truck around in a U-turn and headed back toward the house, hoping she’d soaked enough of the corn to do the job. The engine started to sputter and Daisy cried. She was terrified of the corn and couldn’t imagine being stuck out there in the field.
Her closed fist beat against the steering wheel as the truck began to slow down. She could see the house but she wasn’t as close as she wanted to be.
Suddenly, something grabbed the passenger door, ripped it off the hinges, and tossed it away. She swung her fist to the right, expecting to smash the face of a scarecrow, but the seat was empty. Whatever had attacked the truck had only succeeded in taking off the door. She laughed a maniacal laugh, knowing she was a moment away from having a complete breakdown.
Why hadn’t she let Matt come with her? He could’ve helped her.
“Give me the baby!” came the garbled, deep throated growl of the scarecrow as it leapt into the cab of the truck and grabbed her by the throat.
Its mouth opened, yanking at the stitching, ripping the leathery face. Black ooze ran from the torn, monstrous flesh and it screamed either in agony or in pure rage. The stench of sewage blasted her in the face, blowing her bangs back, as her eyes filled with tears. Her vision blurred and she lost control of the truck.
The speed wasn’t great enough for the truck t
o flip, but it swerved left and right before coming to a stop.
Daisy whimpered as she fought with her last ounce of energy. She stuck her fingers in the scarecrows eyes and hooked them against the inner skull, digging in as deeply as she could. The grip around her throat loosened and the scarecrow screamed again, letting go of her enough for her to kick herself out the driver’s side door.
She fell head first out of the cab and landed horribly on the ground, twisting her neck in the process. Her body flopped onto the broken cornstalks and she lay there for a moment. The scarecrow inside the truck howled with its hands at its eyes. She didn’t have long. She needed to get out of there.
She forced herself to her hands and knees and began to crawl. Suddenly, her right knee collapsed. A scarecrow had crawled beneath the truck and reached out to snatch up her foot by the ankle. She kicked and screamed, digging her fingernails into the earth, doing everything she could to keep herself from being dragged beneath the truck.
