The mountain rose ahead of me as I walked, my sense of time washed away in the rain. The closer I walked, the more my resolve grew. I had to reach the summit and get some answers. Part of me wondered if I was just torturing myself with false hope. I hadn’t stopped looking for answers since I had arrived. The forest, the temple, the ocean, and now the mountain. What was I going to do when my options ran out?
You’ll make your own options, then.
I wiped rain from my face as I drew closer to the mountain, a thin line of trees lining the foot of the great summit. I trained my eyes upward and saw that a thick forest crawled up the slope until about halfway up where the forest gave way to bald rock.
I pressed on, my mind numbing in the gray and constant rain. I didn’t want to think about anything and so I didn’t, the crunch of grass beneath my feet marking my weary steps.
Eventually, I found myself standing at the tree line, the Black Farm at my back, the mountain staring down at me with snow-capped eyes. It looked impossibly imposing.
Right before I stepped into the woods, I saw something in my peripheral, a figure emerging from the Needle Fields.
I immediately went on alert, spinning, readying myself for confrontation. Being this close to the Fields, my first thought was that it was Muck. But what I saw made me pause, fear melting into worried caution.
It was a man dressed in filthy overalls. His stomach stretched the fabric and his double chins were littered with stubble and dirt. His greasy hair was held back in a ponytail and his eyes were dangerously dark.
And in his arms, he held a sawed-off shotgun.
I didn’t move as he approached, his gun trained at my chest. As he got closer, my suspicions were confirmed. This was a Suicidal, not a Pig Born. I held his eyes as he stopped a dozen feet from where I stood.
“Who’re you?” he asked, his gruff voice cutting through a Southern accent.
I blinked, a slow recognition dawning. “I know you…I’ve seen you somewhere before…”
The man dragged his tongue across his gums. “Reckon you have, partner. I been here a spell. You didn’t answer my question. Who in the hell are you?”
I let my shoulders drop, trying to appear at ease. “Name’s Nick.”
“Nick…” he drawled. “Nick, Nick, Nick….nope I don’t know a Nick. Whachoo doing all the way out here?”
A light when off in my head. “The kid! You killed the kid! The little Pig Born kid in the plastic devil mask!”
The man snorted. “Yup, plugged him real good. Little shit was always fuckin’ with me. He got what he had comin’ to him.”
“Yeah, he didn’t seem to be a big fan of yours. He told me your name…” I said, snapping my fingers. “It was uh…shit…Pudge?”
The man nodded and kept his gun trained at my chest as he continued,.“Yup, that’s me. So whachoo doing out here? You’s a long way from anything good, Nick.”
I pointed at the mountain above us. “Going to have a word with the lights.”
Pudge squinted toward the summit. “You going to see the Eyes? Why in the hell would you want to do that?”
I nodded. “I have a few questions I need to ask them.”
Pudge snorted. “That’s just about the most plum-stupid idea I’ve ever heard. No ones goes up the mountain. You lookin’ for trouble or just a painful death?”
“I’m going to get some answers,” I repeated, voice hardening.
The man, Pudge, squinted at me. “Can’t tell if you’re slow or just an ignorant. Either way, best of luck to you.”
“Do you wanna come?” I offered, surprising myself.
Pudge looked at me hard and then chuckled. “Go see the Eyes? Shee-it, now why would I want to do that? Plenty of Pig Born down here to hunt. Don’t need to go sticking my nose where it shouldn’t sniff.”
“Aren’t you curious though?” I pressed. “Aren’t you tired of this shit? Who knows what’s up there, but maybe it’s something better.”
Pudge giggled, an odd sound to come from such an ugly man. “Sure, I’m curious. Been seein’ those damn lights blinking down at us for ages. But I like it down here just fine. Poppin’ the Pig Born is easy round these parts.” He wiggled his fingers. “I like the way their guts squish up in my hands.”
I cocked my head. “Probably some good guts up on the mountain for you to…squish. You have that gun; who’s going to mess with you? So come on, let’s go see what they are. What’s the worst that could happen? We die?” I snorted. “I don’t know about you, but I’ve already done that a couple times.”
Pudge clicked his front teeth together, like he was cold. “Hmm…good guts you say? Mm, I reckon the Eyes have some mighty fine guts to squish around in. They probably feel different too, seein’ as how they’re supposed to be different than everything else down here. Shee-it partner, you do make a tough case. I’d be lyin’ if I said I hadn’t considered it a time or two. Never met a soul dumb enough to climb the mountain though.” He scratched his chin, turning over the idea. “And I am gettin’ kind of bored hunting these Pig Born down here…”
I spread my arms. “Train’s leaving.”
Pudge nodded slowly. “Aw shoot, why not? I ain’t got plans today anyway.”
I pointed to his gun. “That’s fantastic. Now, can you please point that somewhere else?”
Pudge looked down at it and his eyes lit up like he was seeing it for the first time, “Oh would you look at that! All right, now that that’s fixed, why don’t you lead the way, Nick?”
So together, we entered the forest at the foot of the mountain and began the long ascent. Pudge stayed behind me, which made me nervous. Something about the man set me on edge, but I knew he could be useful. That gun of his certainly would.
And more importantly…I wanted it.
It was strange to have such a sudden companion; my invitation was impulsive and rash. Even though he was a Suicidal, I knew nothing about him other than he apparently hunted Pig Born. I supposed that would have to be good enough for now.
The trees pressed in around as we walked, the plane before us rising upward slightly, my boots crunching across dead leaves and underbrush. Pudge huffed and puffed at my back, muttering to himself and giggling. I didn’t like that. Clearly, something wasn’t right with my new traveling buddy.
He’s got a gun, he’s not Pig Born, that’s all that matters right now.
After a while, I looked over my shoulder. “How’d you get that?”
Pudge looked up at me from a couple feet down the slope, his face streaked with greasy sweat. “My shotty?”
“Yeah,” I said, pushing a branch out of my way. “That’s the only gun I’ve seen on the Black Farm. How’d you get it?”
Pudge wiped his face, panting as we continued. “I made it, right here on the Farm.”
I stepped over a rock, cocking an eyebrow. “You made it? Like, from scratch?”
Pudge grinned proudly. “Shore did. Back when I was alive, I use to made guns for fun. Smithed ’em, so to speak.”
“Let me get this straight,” I said, “you not only found and collected the materials you needed, but you built a forge too? On the Black Farm?”
Pudge snorted. “Probably seems impossible to a fancy talking city boy like you, but us down-to-earth folk aren’t afraid of putting in a little hard work. And that’s exactly what I did. I never claimed it was an easy undertaking, but by God, I sure did set my mind to it. And Nick, once I set my mind to something, there ain’t nothing going to stop me.”
“Clearly,” I said. “I gotta say, I’m impressed. Did you make the bullets, too?”
“Wouldn’t be much of a shotgun without a couple shells, now would it?” Pudge asked. He suddenly stopped and I turned.
“You sure are asking a lot of questions bout my gun…” he said, eyes narrowed.
I shrugged. “Like I said, it’s just the first one I’ve seen on the Farm.”
Pudge stared at me a moment longer and then relaxed, pressing forward. “
You’ll have to forgive my suspicious nature, a lotta scum has tried to take my weapon from me. Ain’t no one takes Pudge’s weapon, I’ll tell you that much.”
I raised my hands over my head. “Hey, no worries, big guy. I wouldn’t dare touch it. Never been a gun man myself.”
Until I rip it from your filthy hands.
We fell into silence, reserving our energy for the long climb. As we continued into the forest, I noticed that the woodland floor was slowly growing steeper and steeper, the endless trees growing thicker and closer. I was worried that Pudge would slow me down, but he was like an unstoppable locomotive. His face had turned beet red and dripped with sweat, steam practically pouring from his ears, but he kept pace with me without a problem.
As our surroundings became more and more gloomy, I was grateful for our uneasy alliance. If we were ambushed, I didn’t know if I would have the strength to fight back against our attackers. My legs were slowly becoming slabs of cramped muscle the further we climbed, my breath ragged and labored. I wanted to pause and catch my breath but forced myself through it. Not yet.
Just keep walking.
After a while, Pudge ran a grubby hand across his face and muttered, “Not a whole lot of Pig Born up on these slopes, huh?”
“Probably scared of the Eyes,” I said between breaths.
Pudge turned this over in his mind and then snorted, “Reckon so.”
Time bled out before us like blood from a gut wound, and I felt my energy leaving with it. We had climbed for what felt like hours and I knew we needed to stop soon. Exhaustion was crashing over me in big angry waves and my knees had begun to tremble with every step. The trees around us were shorter now and I could feel the rain spitting down on us again. The underbrush had grown thin and had gradually been overtaken by pine needles and naked rock.
We were getting there.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, I spotted the end of the forest ahead of us. Past that lay a bald expanse of soaring rock cliffs. They burst away from the greenery, steep inclines reaching all the way up to the snow-capped summit. I held up a hand to Pudge.
“Let’s rest. We’ve been going at it for hours now; let’s take a breather. I’m tired, and you must be too, huh?”
Pudge plopped himself down on the ground, gasping, “Shee-it, I never thought you’d stop. Take as much time as you need, I’ll just be sitting here collecting my lungs again.”
“You could have said something,” I said, sitting down across from him, panting, chest heaving.
“This is your shit show,” Pudge shrugged, stretching out on his back and folding his hands over his chest. “Think I might close my eyes for a spell if it’s all the same to you. Can’t recall the last time I had myself a snooze.”
“Knock yourself out,” I said, scooting over to a rock. I sat against it, resting my head against its hard surface.
I closed my eyes and exhaled heavily. Sleep…that sounded good. Just for a couple minutes. Then we’d get moving again.
Right as I swam into the shallow waters of my subconscious, I heard a wet meaty sound. It jolted me awake, my eyes snapping open in a hurry.
Pudge was viciously masturbating, soft groans escaping his lips.
“Jesus! SHIT, man, what in the hell are you doing?!” I yelled, disgusted.
Pudge opened one eye and looked at me, never slowing. “Oh yeah, sorry, Nick. I can’t fall asleep without a good wank. You understand, right? Won’t be but a minute. Got a good nut coming up the pipeline.”
I turned away, grimacing, right as the fat man ejaculated. I heard him release a sigh of pleasure and wipe his hand off in the pine needles. I dared to look back and saw him buttoning himself back up and placing his shotgun on his chest. He folded his hands over it and smiled.
“Night, Nick.”
I remained silent, resting my head back on the rock. My stomach churned.
Fucking animal…
Now that I had been rudely awoken, I found sleep elusive. I shut my eyes and let my mind drift, forcing my body to relax. After a while, I heard gentle snores come from the mound of a man on the ground in front of me.
Just take his gun and go, my mind whispered. I considered it as I paced along the shores of sleep. If I could manage to slip it from his grasp, I could probably get away and rid myself of Pudge’s offensive presence. I didn’t need him, just his weapon.
I missed my ax.
Before I could make up my mind, I was suddenly pulled back into exhaustion and I was soon floating through the choppy waters of sleep.
I rubbed my eyes, groaning. How long had I been out? I pulled my hands away and opened my eyes. I froze, heart screeching to a halt in my chest.
Pudge was standing over me, the twin barrels of his shotgun inches from my face. I looked up at him, confusion and fear an avalanche in my throat, rushing down into my stomach and chilling me with icy uncertainty.
“Pudge?” I croaked.
The big man’s face was a slab of unreadable emotion. He didn’t move, his gun never wavering from my face, the barrel practically touching my nose. After another second, he finally let out a haughty laugh and lowered the weapon.
“Oh man, you shoulda seen the look on your face,” he brayed, wiping a tear from his eye, “I was seeing how long it’d take you to wake up like that.”
I closed my eyes, gritting my teeth, my fear burned up in a blaze of anger. I stood up and faced him, jabbing a finger into his chest, voice like iron.
“You do that again and I’ll fucking bury you on this mountain. That’s not fucking funny.”
Pudge waved a hand at me, unaffected by my threat. “Oh lighten up, ya big baby. Just having some fun.”
I forced myself to calm my trembling nerves, unclenched my fists, breath hissing between my teeth. “Well, from now on, let’s keep the comedy to a minimum, yeah?”
Pudge chuckled, his belly rolling. “Aw come on, you got no sense of humor. This must be one of them cultural differences I always hear about.”
“Do that again and you’ll see just how uncultured I can be,” I growled, finally relaxing. “Now, why the hell were you trying to wake me up?”
Pudge pointed a stubby finger up the mountain. “Saw them lights flashing again. Figured we should be on the move.”
I looked at the summit. “Good to know they haven’t gone anywhere. All right, let’s go. And keep that thing pointed at the fucking ground unless something is trying to kill us, ok?”
We emerged from the trees into the wide open space before us, naked rock and soaring cliffs stretching toward the peak of the mountain. Pudge and I exchanged a look and then started walking. The rain was bitter cold now and I noticed a drop in temperature. No longer beneath the cover of the forest, the icy wind bit into us with frostbitten jaws.
My boots scraped over the cold stones, a stumbling shuffle that seemed to never end. Pudge almost split his head open a couple times, but always caught himself at the last second. He’d giggle and adjust himself, pulling the straps of his overalls back up his shoulders and then we’d continue.
I dared not look up as we walked. I didn’t want to see how much further we had to go. After an hour I could already feel my legs begin to tire. The cold didn’t help, my teeth chattering with every blast of air, my arms wrapped tightly around myself. Pudge seemed unaffected by the weather, but I heard him sucking air behind me.
After some time, I stopped and gulped down a couple mouthfuls of oxygen. My chest heaved as I looked behind us and saw the treeline was just a sliver of green below a sloping field of gray rock. We were progressing, but as I looked ahead I saw that we still had a ways to go, the angle of our ascent sharply rising.
Pudge sat down next to me, staring at his feet and gasped thick, wet lungfuls of air. He mopped sweat off his greasy face and shook his head, a giggle escaping his lips.
“Going to need a second before we take those cliffs,” he said, rolling his head back to look at me.
I stared down at him. “We’re doi
ng ok so far. This wind is killing me, but if I keep moving it’s manageable.”
Pudge slapped his bulging belly. “You need to put away a couple pork rinds and build up a tolerance!”
I rubbed warmth into my arms. “Don’t talk to me about pork.” I looked ahead of us, stomping my feet, trying to keep my blood flowing. “I’m going to scout ahead while you catch your breath. I have to keep moving or I’m going to freeze. I’ll be back in a little bit, ok?”
Pudge waved his fingers at me. “All right, go on then. You ain’t no use to no one if you turn into a popsicle.”
“Can I have the gun in case I run into any Pig Born?” I asked casually.
Pudge’s eyes narrowed. “We ain’t seen a Pig Born for miles. I reckon you’ll be ok without it.”
I shrugged, acting like it wasn’t a big deal. “No harm in asking.” Without waiting for a response, I turned and began to climb.
The cliffs began to jut from the mountain at increasingly dangerous angles and I was soon heaving myself up, hand over fist. I could feel my fingers numbing against the stone, the rough surfaces feeling like pure ice.
My hair whipped into my face and I blinked it away, getting lost in the steady rhythm of my climb. After a little bit, I spotted a flat outlook a couple dozen feet above me and shimmed over to it. Grunting, I pulled myself up and rolled onto my back, panting.
What are you doing, Nick?
I shut my eyes against the freezing gale, the wind howling across the rocks.
Why do you continue? You don’t have any idea what’s up here. Jess is gone. Do you remember what you had to do last time you got her back? Do you really think you can do that again?
I knew it was just the exhaustion talking, but I couldn’t stop the doubt.
Just lay here and die. Let the Farm spit you out somewhere else and go hide in the woods with the rest of the Suicidals. This madness needs to stop. You can’t escape this place. This is it for you.
Gritting my teeth, I climbed to my feet. I clutched myself and stared out over the hellish world. From this height, I could see all the way to the forest that separated the two sides of the island. I thought I could see something on the horizon past it, maybe the Barn, but I couldn’t be sure. I looked down across the left slope and grunted. The Temple of the Pig was a tiny smoldering structure nestled at the base of the mountain, a gray square of billowing smoke. I raised my thumb and shut one eye, smudging its existence from view.
The Black Farm Page 21
