The Haunted Forest Tour

by Jeff Strand

  The road broke open, vomiting earth and gravel along the way. Then the source of the indigestion became apparent as the giant wyrm came out of the ground.

  He couldn't quite justify calling it a worm, but the archaic English word seemed to fit. It moved and pulsed as it rose into the air. The head of the beast was a line of hungry articulated feelers that grabbed the air and sought anything to stuff into the mouth just below them.

  Mark sucked in a deep breath and gunned the engine again, forcing himself to look out the windshield as he headed for Dover's Point.

  Sure enough, just as he feared, the wyrm turned in their direction and began to follow, shoving its unholy bulk out onto the road and heaving itself forward with unsettling speed.

  Booth finally spoke: "That's a big one."

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Christopher made no attempt to struggle. He silently willed the bird to fly faster, even though he knew it was ridiculous to think that Pestilence would allow the bird to drop him off in time to warn his mother.

  But he wasn't going to let his mother die. Absolutely not. No matter what it took, even if he had to rip that demon's smirking head right off its shoulders, he wasn't going to let his mother die.

  Just don't bleed to death, and you'll be fine. Mom will be fine. Everybody will be fine.

  He cried out in pain as his legs crashed through some branches. The bird wasn't being quite as attentive to his personal safety this flight.

  And then the bird swooped down through the trees, into a small clearing. It didn't set him down but instead hovered about ten feet above the ground, wings flapping. Birds weren't supposed to be able to hover like that, but they also weren't supposed to be able to do the bidding of demon masters.

  Lee, Barbara, Tina, and Tommy were below. So was his mother. They all stood close together, staring at Pestilence.

  "Ah, our guest of honor has arrived," said Pestilence, looking up and winking at Christopher. Christopher tried to shout out a warning, but no words came out, just complete silence. He kicked and struggled and continued to scream silently.

  "Mindy, step forward," said Pestilence. Christopher watched in horror as his mother took a hesitant step forward. Lee put his arm out, blocking her from going further.

  "What do you want from her?" Lee demanded.

  "You've already proven yourself, skeptic. This is Mindy's chance. This is her chance to save all of you, most especially her son."

  Christopher shouted with such force that his lungs burned, but he still had no voice.

  "You'll have to come through us to get her," said Lee.

  Pestilence nodded. "If that's how it must be. I'll happily scatter your body parts for miles. You've all survived a lot this fine day. It seems a bit foolish to let yourselves die a ghastly death when you're so close to sweet freedom."

  Mindy pushed past Lee. "What do you want?"

  "Oh, nothing substantial. I just want you to sacrifice yourself. Give your life for the others. That's not such a big deal, is it?"

  "You're not going to touch her," said Lee.

  "Enough out of you." Pestilence smiled. "You've had a good, long life, haven't you, Mindy? Is it worth giving up your own life to save a young boy, a hero, and a widow? Perhaps not. But what about your son? Is it worth giving up your life to save your son?"

  "How do I know you'll let them go?" his mother asked.

  No!

  "Well, you could trust me, but I'll be the first to admit that I don't have trustworthy features. So we'll go with something a bit more over-the-top."

  Pestilence gestured, and the bird flew toward one of the trees, bashing Christopher into it.

  "Sacrifice yourself, and the trees will part like the Red Sea, revealing the path to freedom. Be a selfish old hag, and your son gets beaten to death by a giant bird, and I kill all of you anyway. When you stop to think about it, there's really only one good choice."

  "He's lying," said Lee. "Don't listen to him."

  Pestilence's smile vanished. "Skeptic, you are in grave danger of losing all of the good will I feel towards you. If you say one more word, or so much as utter a syllable that sounds like it might be in the process of forming a word, I will kill you where you stand. It won't be a heroic death. It will be a senseless and embarrassing one. I'm offering Mindy the opportunity to save all of you, so please stay out of it. Nod if you understand me."

  Lee stood motionless for a moment, and then gave an almost imperceptible nod.

  "Good. Now..."

  Pestilence stared at Lee, who stared back. The two almost seemed like they had some sort of...connection. Like they were communicating without words. Christopher had no idea what they might be saying, but there was definitely something going on.

  The demon blinked in surprise, as if suddenly realizing where he was. "Mindy, step forward."

  Mindy stepped past Lee and the others. Even from his vantage point, Christopher could see that she was trembling.

  "No need to be afraid," said Pestilence, his smile returning. "I guarantee that this will be painless. Much less painless than this." He gestured, and the bird slammed Christopher against another tree. This time he thought he might have broken a rib.

  "Leave him alone!" Mindy wailed.

  "Well, now, that's an option. Another option is for my feathered friend to bash your son against that tree until there's nothing left to hold on to. It's all up to you, Mindy."

  "I'll do anything."

  "I like that attitude. Unfortunately, it's a lot easier to say you'll give yourself up as a sacrifice than to actually do it and mean it. Come closer."

  Mindy looked up at Christopher. He shook his head wildly and mouthed, "Don't do it!"

  She took another step towards Pestilence.

  "That's the way to do it," said Pestilence. "One small step at a time. That said, I can't keep the forest creatures away forever, so you might want to pick up the pace a bit."

  Mindy took another step. Now less than five feet separated her from the demon.

  "I need proof that you'll keep your side of the bargain," Mindy said.

  "What sort of proof would you like?" Pestilence asked, stepping forward and closing the gap between them to three feet.

  "Let them go."

  "All of them?"

  Mindy nodded.

  "I'm not sure I see the logic there. If I'm asking you to sacrifice yourself to save the others, why would I let them go before you've made the sacrifice?"

  "I'm an old woman. Where the hell am I going to go? Do you think I'm going to kick you in the balls and run away?"

  Pestilence walked forward and put his scaly hand on her shoulder. "So if I let them go free, you'll willingly sacrifice yourself to me?"

  Mindy nodded, her face glistening with tears.

  No! Please no! Don't do it!

  "That's very selfless of you, Mindy. Are you sure?"

  "You have to let them leave the entire forest."

  "Of course."

  "All of them. Including my son."

  "That can be arranged. So if I do that, you'll offer yourself up as my sacrifice?"

  "Yes."

  "Look me in the eyes."

  Mindy looked into Pestilence's eyes. Christopher thought his lungs were going to rip free of his chest from his silent screaming.

  "I need to believe that you're telling the truth."

  "I am."

  Pestilence's grin widened. "You are. And unfortunately for you, that's all I need."

  The blow caught her underneath the chin. Her head was not merely ripped from her body, but it seemed to explode in a shower of blood and gore that drenched Lee and the others.

  Christopher's screams were no longer silent.

  The bird dropped him and he fell to the ground, crying out in both pain and anguish.

  Pestilence shook some of the blood off his hand and let out a loud, cackling laugh. "Now the real fun begins, ladies and gentlemen. Enjoy the show."

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Jake Steiner s
pit a stream of tobacco juice into his coffee cup. It was either spit or swallow and he didn't much feel like gagging that shit down. He'd given it up for a while on numerous occasions, but every now and then he just needed a fix.

  Since he was on his way to the place that had given him more nightmares than he ever wanted to think about, he was pretty sure this counted as "every now and then." It was that or pop open a few beers, and he guessed that would go against the three years sober he'd managed so far in AA.

  Two damned trees had eaten most of the road, and he slowed down the cruiser and carefully eased between them, cursing under his breath when he scraped up the left rear of his vehicle.

  Something big and black jumped from one tree to the other and looked down on him as he passed under its territory. Whatever the hell it was, it made both trees shake.

  He picked up the radio handset and called to the other cars behind him. "Got company, boys. Something up in the trees. Keep your wits and turn off your safeties, because we ain't here to interrogate any of the things living out this way."

  "Amen, chief! Let's get ready to rumble!" That was Wilcox answering. The boy was enthusiastic about his law enforcement and almost as crazy about his side career as a professional wrestler. Would have worked better for Jake if Wilcox looked like he could wrestle more than a Twinkie.

  "Save the battle cries," Jake said. "You might need 'em before we're done. Don't take this shit lightly. We're here to see if we can stop whatever's happening."

  Wilcox didn't answer. He was too busy dying.

  The black thing had dropped out of the tree and landed on the third cruiser, the one that carried Wilcox and his partner O'Brien. Jake couldn't make out too many details but near as he could tell, the thing looked like it was covered in scabs and had too many arms.

  He pulled over to the side and called out on the radio for everyone to stop and render aid.

  By the time he was done talking, Sheila Hannigan was out of the car. Sheila was his second in command, and more than capable of handling herself in a nasty situation. They didn't get a lot of murders in Dover's Point, but they got more than their fair share of drunks on the weekends.

  Sheila pulled her .38, sighted carefully, and put a bullet into the thing on top of Wilcox's car. Whatever the hell it was, it fell down and stayed there.

  "What in the name of shit?" Sheila ran over to the squad car and looked at the caved-in roof. Wilcox was dead and so was his partner.

  Jake made it back to where she was standing and looked at the mangled bodies. "Poor bastards." He spit out the tobacco in his mouth in honor of his fallen comrades. Wilcox had a fine little wife at home, along with two boys—the twins—and a baby girl on the way. He might have been a clown, but he was a good cop and a better man.

  O'Brien was engaged. No kids. But his folks were long-time friends and now he had to tell them he'd let their only son get himself killed.

  He rubbed at the back of his neck and felt a shiver that had nothing to do with the weather, especially since it was still hot as sin and the sun was just going down.

  "Guys, I don't much like saying this, but Tony and Micah here are gonna call an ambulance and wait for it to show up. The rest of us have to go forward."

  The other cops protested, as Jake knew they would. No one liked to leave a fellow cop behind, even if they were already dead. It wasn't respectful.

  Of course, neither was the laughter.

  Jake looked around, trying to decide which ex-employee of his had decided that two deaths were funny. All of them were looking around too. No one was laughing.

  The first of the things landed on the car directly behind him, cackling away as it hunched down and bared some nasty-looking teeth. It was furry, dark with spots, and it seemed to be hunched over but standing on two feet. Both of the front arms were too long and almost scraped the paint off the black and white.

  "What the hell?" That was Sheila again. She moved up next to him and started to aim. The laughing thing jumped into the air. It barely even seemed to flex its legs, just sort of shot skyward like it was on a springboard.

  Sheila and Jake both watched it, and then tried to get out of the way. Jake made it, Sheila did not. The powerful hind legs of the thing landed on her chest and drove her backward and into the ground. Before she even finished bouncing, the front paws took two swipes and peeled her neck away.

  Jake pissed himself right then and there. There wasn't much he could do about it, and he didn't have enough time to feel embarrassed before the thing crouched low and laughed in his face.

  Big, golden eyes stared at him with slitted pupils that were as wide as his cat's at home when it was angry or hunting.

  The laughter started up again, coming from in front of him. It was immediately answered from several other locations.

  Jake didn't dare take his eyes off the thing. He'd seen how fast it was.

  Teeth grinned at him in the dark furry face and the eyes almost seemed to shimmer. Not far away, he heard a gunshot and Sheila's leg exploded. The obvious target stayed on her chest and laughed.

  "Son of a diseased whore!" That was Peters. He always had the most colorful curse words.

  "Goddamn it!" shouted Jake, taking out his revolver. "Be careful where you're aiming!"

  He saw them coming and shook his head, trying to focus on the one in front of him. There had to be fifteen more of the things laughing and giggling as they came closer, like the idea of taking on a group of armed cops was just as funny as all get out. They didn't move like people. They moved like something between a kangaroo and a mountain lion. Muscles shifted and the damned things hopped a good ten feet closer every time they moved at all. Jake brought his Smith & Wesson up and aimed for the thing still crouched over Sheila.

  It moved, vaulting straight at him and laughing louder than ever. A millisecond after it passed him, Jake felt the fire spread up his arm. Five red slices cut through his sleeve and bled across the blue fabric. That part didn't bother him as much as the same red slices starting at his wrist and moving up to the sleeve on his bicep.

  "Oh fu—" He never finished the word. The claws came at him again before he could, and this time they caught his throat, tearing out his larynx in the process.

  Jake fell back and gurgled, blood flowing freely from the wound in his neck. He was alive long enough to see the other laughing things attack the rest of the squad. He died before they were finished with the task.

  Mark and Hannah could have told him that the Gigglers always liked to play with their food before they ate.

  * * *

  Hannah was taking the giant wyrm chasing them remarkably well. She was screaming obscenities and looking over her shoulder approximately fifteen times a second. Mark felt he was holding up pretty well himself, because he was only looking into the rearview about twice a second.

  "That is one big damned wyrm."

  "No shit, Mark! Now could you possibly go a little faster?"

  "I'm doing ninety!"

  The wyrm lunged forward and Mark swerved hard enough to put the car up on two wheels for a moment. The result was Hannah letting out another scream as they managed to avoid getting swallowed by the freaky thing.

  Yes, swallowed. It was that big.

  The ground where the car had been obligingly shattered when the wyrm hit it. The car went back on all four wheels and Mark stomped on the gas, almost stalling the car out before it leaped forward.

  "We've got to lose that thing, Mark!"

  "I believe he's trying," said Booth from the back seat.

  "Well, tell him to try harder, damn it!"

  "Tree," said Booth.

  Mark swerved to avoid the enormous tree in the center of the road. The car slid off the pavement and onto the hard soil, spitting plumes of dust into the air. The rearview mirror showed that the oversized leviathan was gaining speed, undeterred by the cloud of arid soil.

  Mark looked at the numerous trees ahead of him and the town now off to the right and swerved toward his lef
t, aiming for a spot between two of the monolithic and completely alien plants.

  "Mark? What are you doing? There are trees in the way."

  "Yeah, I know." He urged the car to go a little faster as the segmented body thrust and lurched forward, tearing up the distance between them.

  "Mark, I'm sorry for yelling earlier, I didn't mean a word of it. This is not the best time to consider suicide, okay?"

  "Calm down, Hannah, I know what I'm doing."

  "No, you don't. You really don't." Her voice rose with each word as they got closer to the trees.

  Mark looked at the two black shapes ahead of him and tried to calculate if he could really squeeze the Saturn between them. No. Probably not.

  "I promise not to kill us," he said, figuring that he wouldn't get called out on his failure to keep the promise if he was dead.

  Mark made one last careful adjustment with the steering wheel and then closed his eyes as they reached the base of the two trees.

  The car shot through the gap, losing the paint on both doors as well as the side-view mirrors. The sound almost managed to drown out Hannah's screams.

  Mark looked back at the receding trees and pumped the air with his right hand. "Sweet! We did it!"

  The wyrm kept coming, ignoring the trees, and Mark almost wished he had enough time to watch as it smashed itself into a pulp.

  Hannah watched for him, giving a blow by blow. "It's still coming...it's still coming...it's almost there...splat!"

  Mark risked a look back, as there were no new trees in the immediate vicinity. The wyrm had indeed smashed into the trees, cutting its body along two points and spilling an enormous amount of what passed for its blood, a thick pale mess that painted the bark of both the barriers it faced.

  For one brief second, Mark thought that was the end of the wyrm, but then it pushed forward again and uprooted both of the trees with a seemingly casual shrug. The trees flipped into the air, clots of soil falling from their roots.

  And sailed in the same direction that Mark was currently driving.