The Wide Game

by Michael West

  She rose to her feet. “Somebody’s coming.”

  Paul got out from under the canvas and crossed the shed. When he was almost at the entrance, someone started pounding on the door. They pounded so hard, Deidra wondered if they might not be trying to break it down.

  “Who is it?” Paul asked.

  “Open the damn door!”

  Robby.

  Paul pushed up on the latch and threw it open. The fog was so thick. It poured through the doorway in a great cloud, as if it were being pumped into the shed. Robby ran out of the haze, drug someone behind him. It took her a few moments to realize it was Mick; the glasses were absent from his face and he was covered in blood, black feathers clotted to his skin. In his hand, he held the large knife she’d seen earlier. It too was bloody.

  “Oh, my God,” she whispered.

  “Shut the door!” Robby panted, tried to catch his breath. “There’s somethin’ out there!”

  Paul looked at him, concerned, then his eyes whirled into the mist. “Where’s Danny?”

  “Just lock the Goddamn door!”

  “What the hell happened?” Paul asked as shut out the fog and latched the door. “Where’s Danny?”

  “He’s dead,” Mick blurted out. “Danny ... he ... see, he was Skip. They said Skip was the killer. They said it was all right to kill Skip. So, it’s not my fault. It’s not. He was Skip, and they ... they told me Skip should die ... They told me ...” And then he fell to his knees on the floor of the shed, tears eating away at his words until they were idiot mumblings.

  Paul’s stunned gaze rose from Mick to Robby. “Danny?”

  Robby’s face was grievous and hesitant. He licked his lips as if to speak, then nodded instead.

  “How?” Deidra wanted to know. She felt numb, as if all her blood had evaporated. It wasn’t possible. Danny couldn’t be dead. Not Danny.

  The words came slowly to Robby’s lips. “Mick accidentally stabbed him.”

  “Oh, Christ.” A single tear spilled from each of her eyes, traveled to her chin. She sat back down on the boxes before she fell over.

  “Mick said he saw Sheriff Carter out there,” Robby told them. “Said he was looking for us.” He paused a moment, then added, “I didn’t see him.”

  “What did you see?” Deidra’s throat was bone dry.

  Robby looked down at the camera and handed it to Paul. “I might have recorded some of it. I don’t know. I’m not gonna look and see. You can do that if you want.”

  Deidra’s watering eyes flared and she spoke through clenched teeth. “Tell us what it was!”

  Robby told them all that had happened, all that he’d seen, all that he’d heard. And, by the time he finished with the telling, Deidra cried more for herself than for Danny.

  Mondamin was here to claim them.

  They were all going to die.

  Twenty-One

  Skip and Nancy stopped to catch their breath. The stalks waved around them, angry at being sideswiped by the pair as they ran. After a moment, the cold caught up with them, making Nancy shiver.

  “Come on.” Skip tugged on her arm. “Our joints are gonna freeze up.”

  “I killed her!”

  “Lower your fucking voice!”

  Nancy looked at him and Skip saw the eyes of a lost child. “It was a spider. This ... huge ... ugly ... How could I have even thought ...?”

  There was no point in trying to reason with her. She’d withdrawn to a place where nothing Skip said could reach her. There would be time for her to grieve at her leisure, time even to repent, if she was so inclined, but that time would come later, in a place far removed from here.

  Skip tugged again at her arm, more insistent. “Now, come on.”

  Without warning, Nancy smacked him upside the head and pulled away.

  “Bitch!” Skip moved a hand to his throbbing temple. “What the hell was that for? I’m the fucker who’s tryin’ to save your life!”

  She glared at him. “This is all your fault.”

  “My ... Why does everyone keep saying that? How is any of this shit my fault?”

  “If you hadn’t pushed Sean, we’d be home by now. If you hadn’t thrown a rock at the crows, they would have left us alone.”

  He pointed at her. “And if you hadn’t picked up a rock, Cindi’d still be alive.”

  At that, fresh tears flowed from Nancy’s eyes and she turned her face away from him.

  Skip hadn’t meant it to sound so brutal, but it was the truth. When he pushed Sean, he had no idea the bastard would fall off a cliff. Nancy, on the other hand, picked up a rock and bashed in Cindi’s skull. She could blame Skip all she wanted, but in the end, it was Nancy who’d have to answer for that one.

  He held his hand out to her. “Come on, we need to get outta here.”

  She shook her head.

  “Nancy, we don’t have time for this bullshit!”

  “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

  Skip heard a whisper, faint enough to be mistaken for a stray thought in his brain. “Leave her,” it said.

  That was exactly what he should do. She was a killer after all, and a crazy one at that. Giant spiders? What kind of an idiot did she take him for? Then again, hadn’t he just watched a pair of corpses rise from the dead and speak?

  “You might be next,” the whisper suggested. “She’s killed once, after all. And she liked Cindi. She doesn’t give a shit about you.”

  Skip nodded. That would be the kicker, wouldn’t it? He’d drag her back to civilization, then she’d bash his brains in to thank him for his pains. He held up his hands and backed away from her.

  “You know what? Fine, we’re done playin’ the fuckin’ game anyway. I don’t need to stick with you and I don’t need your bony ass slowin’ me down.”

  “What was that?” Nancy wanted to know.

  “What was wh –?”

  Laughter. It came from somewhere in the mist, the conspiratory giggle of two small girls at play. It swirled around them as if they were standing at the center of a whirlpool. Then it was inside their skulls, dancing around their brains in a psychotic game of ring-around-the-rosy.

  “Stop it!” Nancy slapped her hands across her ears, her fingers curled around her hair. “Leave us alone!”

  And then it was gone, marooning them in a vacuum void of all sound. Skip opened his mouth to speak, surprised to hear his own words. “You ready to come with me now?”

  Nancy ran to him, sobbing.

  “Leave her,” the whisper urged again. The voice sounded deeper than it had before, and Skip now knew it was a visitor to his mind, not a resident.

  No fuckin’ way, he thought in reply, then took her by the arm and ran with her into the darkness.

  ***

  Paul and Robby paced across the center of the work shed. Deidra still sat on the boxes in the corner, covered in the canvas blanket, her head resting on her knees. Mick lay frozen on the floor where he’d collapsed; only by watching the rise and fall of his chest could Paul tell he was still among the living. The camcorder was also on the floor, its lamp light casting odd shadows on the walls and ceiling.

  “No power on earth is gonna get me to go out there again tonight,” Robby insisted. “We stay here until morning, make a run for it when it’s light. They can’t hurt us in the daylight.”

  “I knew we could count on you to know just what to do,” Paul told him with frustration. “See, here’s my problem, we’re talking about demons and you’re still acting like Mr. Superior. For once in your life, why can’t you admit you don’t know shit about something?”

  “Because ...” Robby looked to Paul, equally frustrated. “Look, if we were sitting in the Woodfield right now, we’d both be yellin’ at the screen.” He cupped his hands around his mouth. “‘Don’t go out there you stupid shits!’”

  “You’re right, we would. But, for the record, this is reality. And call me crazy, but I’m thinking all of us together in this ten by twelve cube screams smorgasbord.�
��

  “They want us split up,” Deidra interjected. She wiped the residue of old tears from her cheeks and lifted her face to them. “That’s what the crows were for. They got us scattered, not knowing what to think or do. Whatever we decide, we need to stick together.”

  For a moment they stood silent, exchanging apprehensive glances, then Paul stated his position to Robby. “Look, we need to run like hell until we reach minimum safe distance, and we need to do it now. There can’t be more than a couple of miles left before we hit some houses. Without the stretcher to carry, we should be able to make good time. Hopefully, we’ll run into Nancy and Cindi along the way.”

  “And what happens if we run into something else?” Robby asked.

  “I don’t know,” Paul admitted. “At least if we’re out there, we have places to run.”

  Deidra nodded her agreement. “Seconded.”

  Robby scanned the tight confines of the shed, the truth in what Paul had said sinking in; he sighed. “What about Mickey?”

  Paul knelt down with caution, afraid sudden movement might set Mick off. Mick appeared nearly catatonic, concentrating on the corner of the shed as if it held something of interest; tears and drool had managed to wash much of the gore from his face, and Paul noticed with more than a touch of nausea that he still held Danny’s bloody knife in his shaking hand.

  “Mick?” Paul reached out, patted his friend’s shoulder. “We gotta go.”

  Mick blinked and his focus shifted to Paul’s face, his lip trembling. “I really screwed up.”

  “It wasn’t your fault, Mick.”

  “Then ... you believe me?”

  Paul paused, not knowing what to think and yet certain Mick would never have purposely hurt Danny. Mick loved Danny like a brother. “Yeah, I believe you.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Think you can –?”

  “Let’s go.”

  “We can wait a second if you need –”

  “I wanna go home.”

  Paul nodded. “Sure.”

  He reached out for the camcorder, then moved to the door. Deidra dropped her canvas blanket and crossed the shed to stand at his side. Her eyes were fearful but trusting. He kissed her temple and looked to Robby.

  “Ready?”

  “No, but I’ll deal with it.” Robby helped Mick up off the dirt. “You lead and I’ll pick up the rear.”

  “Fine.” They watched with anticipation as Paul put his hand on the latch. “Run.”

  Everything happened in a blur. Paul flipped the latch; the fog flowed in, its cloudy arms curled around the group as if to welcome them back, and they ran. The shed became a dark shape behind them, sank rapidly into the void. Light from the camcorder bobbed and weaved on the swirling mist, revealing little of their surroundings. Countless monstrosities could be standing a yard away, they wouldn’t know until it was too late.

  A shrill scream came out of the fog.

  Paul stopped suddenly; Deidra plowed into his backpack, and he whirled the light around. For a moment, he thought it might have been the cry of an animal, then he wondered if he might’ve imagined the sound. Before he could ask the others what they’d heard, it came again – louder, nearer, and definitely female.

  Robby’s rattled expression confirmed the shriek was a reality. “That was ... what was that?”

  Deidra took a step toward the scream and Paul pushed her back. She looked up at him, mystified. “It’s Nancy or Cindi. Those things –”

  “Are setting a trap. They’re trying to separate us again.” Paul motioned with his light. “Or they just want us all to go that way, want to steer us off the right path.”

  “What if you’re wrong?”

  He looked her squarely in the eye, tried to sound firm and persuasive. “I’m not.”

  She nodded, her eagerness to be home transcending her fear.

  After a moment, they resumed the quickness of their original pace. They’d been walking for so long, the edge of the field couldn’t be far. As his light swung across the mist, Paul caught a glimpse of something in the row ahead, blocking their path. He recognized the dark shape almost immediately.

  It was one of the creatures from Schongauer’s engraving, an illustrated monster that had traumatized him as a child.

  Deidra’s voice drifted in from somewhere distant. “What is it? What’s the matter?”

  Paul’s hands trembled so badly he nearly dropped the camcorder. A kind of horrified awe stole over him and he was suddenly six years old again, sitting in his pew at St. Anthony’s, his young heart screaming in his chest. He nearly lost his balance and fell back into Deidra, starting a domino effect that would have sent them all to the ground.

  “Let’s move!” Robby urged. “What are we waiting for?”

  Paul didn’t hear him, and, even if he had, he couldn’t move; terror bolted his legs to the ground.

  It’s a trick, he told himself. Just close your eyes. When you look again, this thing will be gone. Just a bad dream.

  Paul’s eyes snapped shut, but the demon haunted his darkness. Ram’s horns spiraled off its forehead. Bones extended from its back like the scaffold of wings; they flexed and moved, unaware of their nakedness, trying to produce flight. It reached out with its spindly claws, its jaws open to devour him, its eyes bottomless pools into which he could feel himself fall.

  Paul shuddered and whipped his head around to look at Deidra. She wasn’t there. In her place stood the nude Miami girl from his dream the night before; black tresses cascaded over her shoulders, covering her breasts as they plunged toward the curves of her hips. Colorful handprints and streaks adorned her skin. In her hands, she held a cornhusk doll; fire engulfed the figure’s tiny head, the flames flickering like red hair caught in the wind.

  “The spirits call for their warriors,” she told him.

  “No.” Paul shook his head to and fro, the golden half-circle charm around his neck plastered to his skin by sweat. “You’re not real.”

  “Paul?” Deidra grabbed hold of his chin to stop his head from wagging. “What’s going on?”

  “I saw this big ... thing ...”

  Why hadn’t he seen her there when he opened his eyes?

  “Look behind me, tell me what you see.”

  Deidra craned her neck; afraid she would find the obscene creature she’d seen before the crows. At the limit of the camcorder light she thought she saw a faint shadow drift off, like a floating hole in the haze, nothing more. “It looks clear ... whatever you saw, it’s gone now.”

  “Thank God.”

  Robby gave him a petulant glance. “Let me lead! I’ve had to run the gauntlet through smoke-filled rooms and I won’t be stopping every two seconds to –”

  “No.” Paul insisted with polite contempt. He wiped his face with his hand, as if ridding himself of his panicky sweat would rid him of his fear. “I’m fine.”

  “Then move your ass!”

  Paul tugged Deidra’s hand and started forward. How far was it to the edge of the field? He’d told Robby a mile or two. That sounded about right. How fast could they travel that distance? Four minutes for a mile kept popping up, but he dismissed that notion, irritated at his brain for mentioning it. Four minutes was world record speed, wasn’t it? They were nowhere near that. Paul saw the shadow of a twisted stalk loom from the mist at the edge of his sight, looking too much like a bony claw. He flinched, but did not stop. He kept moving, kept leading them on toward –

  A rush of movement ahead, a dark blur against the white smudge of fog.

  Paul took a stumbling step back and Deidra screamed. In the darkness before them, another cry rose like an echo to the first. Paul speared the shapes with his camcorder light, stunned by what it revealed.

  Nancy ran to them, threw her arms around Deidra’s neck.

  Paul noticed blood on her hands and his stomach rolled over. He turned his eyes back to the path, blinked, and saw Skip. Williamson’s face and posture were tense, antagonistic, as if he were angry to see
them.

  “I’ll be damned.” Skip aimed his squint at Paul. “Thanks for runnin’ off with the light, fucker.”

  “Everyone was running scared. You should be glad I thought to grab it at all.”

  “How do we know it’s really him?” Mick asked, his voice frightened and sad.

  Skip offered a short, surly chuckle. “What if I don’t believe in you faggots, either?”

  “They’re real,” Nancy sobbed. “They’re really real.”

  “Is Cindi with you?” Deidra asked.

  Nancy pulled away, her eyes drifting to her own hands. “She’s ... I ...”

  “We found her dead,” Skip blurted out.

  All eyes shot to him, none more surprised than Nancy’s.

  “Must have been the same guy that got Brightman,” he continued. “She was all fucked up.”

  Mick held his hands over his head; his fingers clasped together, the bloody knife pressed flat against his skull. What the sheriff had said, it had obviously scared him into making a mistake with Danny. He didn’t want to make the same mistake again, but, as it became clear this was no mirage, that Williamson stood in their midst, horror took hold.

  Why is everyone standing here talking to Skip? He’s the killer!

  Finally, when it looked as if everyone would shake hands and just move on, Mick found the courage to speak. “Sheriff Carter said you killed Dale.”

  Skip glared at him with sullen eyes. “What?”

  “I saw them. The sheriff, Deputy Oates, Mr. Cupello ... they said –”

  They were all staring at Mick. Even though he couldn’t see their faces clearly, he could tell they were embarrassed for him. It was the same look they had when Skip knocked over his books. They felt anger toward Skip, sure they did, but they also felt sadness for Mick. How pathetic, those embarrassed looks said. If only he could stand up for himself. If only he wasn’t such a slab of Jell-O!

  “I saw them,” Mick cried out. “They said they found bodies. They said you did it!”

  Skip took a step forward, pointing. “I don’t know what your major malfunction is, Slatton, but I didn’t kill anybody!”

  Fresh tears came to Mick’s eyes, blurring Skip’s image even more. “It’s your fault Danny’s dead!”