The Pit in the Woods: A Mercy Falls Mythos

by Nathaniel Reed

  30

  Johnny drove the stake down right into the heart, but not deep enough. The staked one was not happy. He screeched and moaned, and came up at him so furiously, that Johnny jumped back, yelling, “Oh shit!” forgetting his cross, and dropping it at his side with a clink of metal.

  “Fuck,” Johnny said as the vampire grabbed his throat. Just as the vampire began to throttle him, he noticed what was hanging inches above the vampires grasp, swinging to and fro- the string of garlic. He picked up the bottom of the strand and shoved it down the vampire’s throat. “Eat this fucker!” he managed to croak through his constricted windpipe. The result was instantaneous and revolting.

  The vampire began to wretch and heave. Within seconds he let go of Johnny to claw at his own throat. A coughing fit quickly became a puking fit; in this case it was projectile vomiting blood, directly into Johnny’s face- A fountain of blood, spewing forth, dousing Johnny to where he was forced to turn and shut his eyes. Some of it had already got in Johnny’s mouth and he was coughing and gagging.

  Done vomiting, the vampire said, “I’ll kill you,” in a liquid voice, a freshet of blood pouring down his chin as he spoke. Johnny spun back and opened his eyes through a red haze, eyelashes clumped with thick crimson. “I don’t think so.” He kicked out, hitting the stake already embedded in the vampire’s chest, and plunging it all the way through. It looked shocked and amazed as it howled and died.

  31

  When Jeremy struck, the stake must have hit bone, because it canted sideways and buried itself in the creature’s chest at an angle. The vampire shot up, clawing at Jeremy. Jeremy held up his cross, but not before the creature managed to claw at his face, leaving three bloody trail marks on either side of his face at opposite diagonals, resembling war paint. And the cross appeared to have no effect. Perhaps the vampire had been an atheist.

  He slammed the coffin lid on the vampire’s head. It moaned in pain and frustration. Jeremy couldn’t shut the coffin because there was no lock, so that it could be opened from the inside. The vampire sprang up like a Jack in the Box, leaping out of the coffin. Jeremy backed away. After realizing his poor choice of weapon- the whip that was still coiled at his side, that he had no time to use with any effectiveness, he tilted his head to the side and screamed for Blake.

  Already done with his kill, Blake came running, weapon raised, raining a short burst of rapid fire at the creature’s face, as he pushed past Jeremy. The vampire’s countenance was riddled with holes as it danced under the assault, his face peeling apart like paper. It fell backward to the floor and lay still.

  Jeremy’s eyes opened wide with amazement. “Is it…?”

  “Dead?” Blake said, “I don’t think so.” Even as he said this the vampire began squirming on the ground. “It just needs a little time to reconstitute itself.”

  “What?” Jeremy began, “Recon…”

  “Heal itself,” Blake said, walking over to the writhing body.

  “Oh.”

  “Isn’t that right you filthy bloodsucker?”

  His Smith and Wesson machine gun hybrid seemed capable of only short bursts of fire, and he fired another round into the vampire’s face, before crouching down beside it, and righting the stake in its chest. Blake twisted it viciously, and if the creature had been capable of speech through its hole-filled face and broken teeth it would be screaming bloody murder, but it was not. Blake held the stake in place with one hand and finished pushing it in with the palm of the other. It stopped moving at last.

  “Jesus,” Jeremy said.

  “Yes,” Blake agreed. “Good job son.”

  “But I didn’t…” Jeremy started to say.

  “No one gets it on the first try.”

  “Now you tell me.”

  Fulton Blake smiled. “You have to start somewhere.”

  32

  Tony’s female vampire was no easy kill either. She looked so human.

  “Not human, not human,” Tony told himself before he closed his eyes and plunged into her with the stake. She emitted something like a screech and a squeal, a sound somewhere between a cat and a pig. The stake dug in just below her collarbone, above her heart. His momentary guilt was eclipsed by seeing her all fanged out, hair wild, and sitting up, ready to claw at him. That changed his tune real quick.

  He grabbed his knife and jabbed it at her. It took her square in the throat, in the spot that would have been the Adam’s apple had she been a male. She gurgled on blood, and fell back, neck pumping out thick sheets of the stuff down her neck and soaking into her shirt, which was already a burgundy, turning it black.

  Tony didn’t give her a chance to get back up. He yanked out the knife, and plunged it in again, slicing at the same time. The vampire’s eyes glared at him as she saw his intention. Weakened by the blows and unable to recoup in time, she stared with incredulity,

  mouth agape as he sawed the knife back and forth across her throat,

  at last severing the head from the body. The fire in her eyes died out. She was no longer living, nor undead.

  “Oh God, oh God,” Tony said, knife clattering to the ground. He looked at his handiwork, flung himself away, turning into the corner, and puked.

  33

  While everyone else had accomplished their goal, Staci stalled. She stood above the vampire, unable to move. He was still so young, so human. He lay there bare-chested, and in sweatpants. He could have been at home watching sports. Maybe he had been when they took him.

  The vampire awoke at the death throes of the others, perplexed. He saw the girl above him (stake raised, cross in one hand) and hissed.

  “Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy,” Staci chanted, “I can’t do this.”

  She watched him sit up in the coffin, fangs growing from his normal teeth. Only when it was certain he was going to leap at her, despite the cross and stake in her hands, did she strike. Staci jabbed at him with the stake, one, two, three times in a panic, piercing his chest. He lay back down, wriggling in his coffin, and she continued to jab at him.

  “Aaaahh!” she screamed, “Aaaahh!!” Jab. Jab. Jab. Blood shot out in streams as she plunged it deeper and deeper. She didn’t know how or when she struck him in the heart deep enough, as she was blindly attacking him, simply trying to fend him off, but at some point he stopped moving. She shook her head. She couldn’t believe it.

  “It gets easier,” Blake said. “God help me, it does.” He’d walked up behind her and she hadn’t even noticed. If she hadn’t felt so numb he might have become poker meat for her stake too. “After a while you forget they were ever human.”

  34

  Seconds before they gathered together again in the outer room they heard the distant wails.

  “Yah-huh,” Blake said, “They know we’re here now.”

  “Great,” Johnny said. “You’re saying we woke up the whole den?”

  “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

  “Is it too late to get out?” Myron halfway joked.

  Blake nodded, “Far too late for that my boy. Let’s see if we can find Betty, and hope to get out of here.”

  “Don’t say it like that,” Jeremy said.

  Blake looked at him questioningly.

  “HOPE to,” he clarified.

  “Ah, yes,” Blake nodded again. “Let’s move along.”

  35

  “Where are we going?” Staci asked.

  Blake replied, “Toward the wailing we just heard.”

  “Great.”

  “Are we having fun yet?” Johnny said.

  “No,” Myron mumbled, shaking.

  “Shhh,” Jeremy said, placing a finger on his lips, “Listen.” They stopped.

  “What are we listening for?” Staci asked.

  “Just…” He motioned with his hands to lower the volume.

  “What…” Tony whispered.

  “Just listen.” They did. It sounded like a human voice, only they didn’t appear to be talking.

  “Is that someone… cryi
ng?” Staci said.

  Jeremy nodded. “I think so.” Although it sounded more like whimpering. They walked toward the source of the sound.

  Every room they entered was lit by torches on at least one, if

  not both sides, casting their warm red glow on the cavern walls. They finally arrived at the room where the sounds were coming from. Blake entered first, surrounded by the others behind him.

  “Oh dear God!” None of them were prepared for what they saw.

  It was Betty, her wrists bound by rusted manacles to long chains buried deep in the wall. She was on her knees, her lower legs pointing in opposite directions. What came out of her were not only cries and whimpers, but bursts of anguish. Fanned out in front of her were three male bodies. One had been decapitated, his eyes still staring up at the ceiling, blood now drying, forming a crown of crimson spray on the lighter ground. Another had been disemboweled, intestines snaking out from its stomach in a soup of blood, some of which appeared to be partially devoured. The third victim’s eyes had been plucked out and still dangled from their stalks onto his cheeks; just below the hairline his head had been popped open like a lid that still hinged on the back of his skull, revealing the oozing mass of brain, a chunk bitten out of one side like an apple.

  Betty had been looking down, hands buried in her face. She looked up at Blake’s words. There were tears in her eyes, but very little left of the humanity behind them. Her stomach growled loudly at the sight of them, and then a growl issued from her throat.

  “Betty?” Jeremy said, in shock.

  “What have they done to her?” Staci said.

  “They’ve been trying to feed her,” Blake said. “She’s been trying to suppress her hunger, and it’s turned her feral. Her poor little mind couldn’t handle it anymore.” He shook his head in horror. “Those monsters.”

  Betty leapt up, yanking at her chains, as she tried to run at them. She came several feet short of them, but they all jumped back in surprise. She snarled, not much more than an animal now.

  “What do we do with her?” Tony asked.

  “There’s nothing we can do for her now,” Blake said.

  “We’re going to leave her here chained up?” Staci protested.

  Blake thought about it. “No, no, we’re going to find the ones that did this to her and set her loose on them.”

  “That’s the first good idea you’ve had all day,” Johnny said. There was no mirth in his voice; only the anger they all felt.

  “She is in pain,” Myron said. “I can feel it. Emotional pain, torment; she is in a living hell right now.” A tear rolled down his cheek.

  “Poor Betty,” Staci lamented.

  Betty continued to yank at her restraints, snarling at them, grasping at the air in front of them, her fingernails turning to claws.

  “Let’s go,” Blake said.

  “No sooner did they turn to leave than they heard a loud crack behind them. They turned to catch the fall of dust and debris at the end of one of Betty’s chains on the wall behind her. A more violent tug and the thick hinges and screws that fastened the chain to the wall popped partway out of the stone wall. This was followed quickly by a loud snap as the chain was yanked free of the wall in a cloud of gravel and broken chain link.

  “Aw fuck,” Johnny said.

  “Yes,” Blake said. “Let’s go, now.”

  Betty renewed the fierce struggle with the other chain. Sensing her freedom her snarl became a wicked grin, full of teeth and dribbling saliva. It only took two tugs to get the other chain free, and she was upon them.

  36

  Blake moved fast, but the girl was faster. He’d managed to get the others behind him, but it was insufficient time for him to raise his weapon. She leapt atop him, bringing him to the ground. The others formed a circle around them as Betty clawed and gnashed at him. Blake was barely holding her back at arm’s length, first by the shoulders, then by her neck.

  “Betty, stop it!” Blake struggled. “We’re here to help you!” He

  shook his head. “She’s too strong.” The others grabbed at her, attempting to pull her off. She snarled, her sharp dribbling teeth inches from Blake’s face. He turned his head sideways, averting her gaze, unable to keep her further away. It took the five of them to pry her loose from Blake, and that did not come easily. She fell in a heap of limbs. The chains still manacled to her hands, but now loose from the walls, created a metallic chatter on the ground that was almost musical, like a swoosh of sleigh bells.

  “Grab her! Hold her down!” Blake cried. Even as they moved to do just that, she was up on her feet again. She threw herself at Blake again, perhaps in some instinctual manner seeing him as the leader of the group. This time Blake was ready. He knew there was now no other course of action. It was too late to help her. It was either kill or be killed, which was not a decision he made lightly. He brought up the stake instinctively, and knew from the angle of her leap and rate of descent exactly where to hit her at the right time. He turned sideways, at a ¾ angle, nearly averting his gaze completely, and swept the impaling wood in an upward sideways arc, just as she reached him, striking her dead in the heart. Betty’s eyes, curled lips, and teeth wet with drool, displayed utter shock and dismay at being dispatched so easily. Most horribly, her look conveyed a little girl, becoming a monster, realizing what she has become, too late to take it back. She did not screech, or wail, or scream. Perhaps it would have been better if she had. She gasped, falling back, chains rattling to the ground, hands wrapped around the stake, eyes fixed on Blake. A tear rolled down one cheek. Blake could not bear it, and turned away, looking down.

  “Forgive me. Oh dear God, forgive me.” The rest rushed around Betty, crouching down beside her.

  “Betty?” Staci said. Betty looked at her, and around at the others. For a moment there seemed to be a flash of recognition; and then it was gone. She closed her eyes and settled back, dying.

  37

  “Did she remember…?” Tony said.

  “Yes,” Jeremy said. “I heard her in my head. She started to say ‘Staci’, and then stopped.”

  “Shit!” Johnny said angrily, pounding his fist on the stone floor.

  “There was nothing we could have done,” Myron admitted sadly. “She was too far gone.”

  “What have I done,” Blake cried out from a corner, “Dear God, what have I done?”

  They rose and walked to him.

  “Blake,” Jeremy said, putting a hand on his shoulder. Blake shrugged him off, moving away.

  “Leave me alone!”

  “All right,” Jeremy said, unsure.

  Myron nodded. He sensed his pain in a way none of the others could, but most of all the guilt. This was not the time to try to console him.

  They sat for a while on the ground against the cavern walls, and waited. In the meantime the wails of the distant vampires seemed to draw closer. After a time, Blake got up and started to walk. The others followed, looking at one another with uncertainty. Fulton Blake’s face was emotionless, except for a sense of steely determination in his eyes. He was here to kill; there was nothing and no one that would stop him. It was soon thereafter the hallucinations began.

  38

  “Jeremy?” Rebecca said. Jeremy looked on with amazement and confusion at his little sister.

  “Becky? Oh my God, Becky! What are you doing down here?”

  She stood in her pajamas, hugging her teddy bear, shivering as they

  rounded the corner.

  “She’s not there,” Blake said quickly. The rest of them watched Jeremy with doubt.

  “They’re pulling stuff out of your subconscious,” Blake said. “It’s part of their power to mesmerize. It’s not real.”

  Jeremy ignored him and ran to hug his sister, only to have her disappear in his arms. He looked at his empty arms. “But I could have sworn…”

  “Yes,” Blake said. “They can be very persuasive. Prepare yourselves to be mentally assaulted, and keep your weapons at the ready.�
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  39

  Blake’s certainty was wiped clean off his face, and replaced by shocked horror when he came upon his disheveled mother, scrawny and weak in her ratty nightgown. It had become so discolored (a light blue almost gone white) and so worn that it was nearly see through, the way it had been days before she died in her hospital bed of a massive brain hemorrhage.

  “Blake,” she said, “How could you fail me like this?”

  “You’re not really there,” Blake said angrily.

  The group looked at each other. Like Jeremy’s sister, no one else could see what Blake saw.

  “First you go and have a child out of wedlock, and then you let your child be taken. And now you’re off avenging her, fighting these vampires, forgetting your mother…”

  “Shut up!” Blake shouted.

  “…letting her die, no one to look after your poor old mother.”

  “It’s not true! I called you mother! I called you at least once a week. You never told me you were sick.”

  “Blake,” Tony shook him, “Remember, she’s not really there.”