The Stone Flowers

by Nora O'Keeffe

  Rodney kept his arm firmly around her waist, propelling the two of them with enough momentum to gain on the creature. They rounded the side of the shearing shed and were engulfed by more smoke. Maggie heard Rodney’s laboured breathing, but every other sound melted away. It was as if the smoke had swallowed them, shutting out the daylight, leaving only them – and the Acheri. For a second, Maggie lost sight of the creature.

  “Wait.” She was panting, her voice the only sound in the silent smoke-filled landscape. “Where is it?”

  “I can’t see. It was just ahead of us.”

  The two of them stood still for a moment, straining to catch any sign of movement. Suddenly, something broke through and hit Rodney in the chest. Maggie saw a flash of grey and heard hissing just as he took the impact. In an instant Rodney let go of her and disappeared.

  “Rodney.” She croaked in desperation and clutched the coat to her chest.

  Holding her breath, she waited, unsure of what to do or where to go.

  “It’s here.” Rodney’s voice came sudden and urgent from behind her. She spun around.

  The creature’s outline became visible through the haze of smoke. It crouched over something on the ground. Its bony head swayed snakelike as its overly long arms worked with shuddering movements. Maggie took a short breath, heavy with smoke, and ran towards the demon. Rodney lay on the ground beneath the Acheri, his shirt ripped open where deep cuts crossed his chest. His chest rose and fell, still breathing, but otherwise still.

  The demon turned, catching Maggie’s reflection in its yellow eyes. It let out a rolling croak that turned into a snarl and bared its teeth, clacking them together like castanets. Maggie stopped short as terrible images assaulted her mind.

  She saw a primitive village burning. People screamed as flames scorched their skin. A child, a little girl no more than ten, was tossed into the flames by a group of screaming women dressed in rags. The girl’s terrified cries pierced the air. Her arms and legs kicked and lashed out helplessly in the flames.

  Maggie tried to block the horrific image, but even as she brought the coat up to cover her face she could still see the girl’s flesh melting away from her body. Her face scorched of skin and tissue, the fire stripping her to bare bones.

  Even in her horror, Maggie knew she had to block the images and keep moving. She lowered the coat from her face and blindly tucked it up under her right arm. In her head the girl screamed and reached out imploring, begging someone to help her. Maggie overlaid the image with Eddie, and then Harness’s face. With her right hand, she squeezed her injured arm. Searing pain shot through her, overriding the mental horror show.

  Maggie pulled the coat from under her arm and threw it over the Acheri. The demon snarled and jerked away with the coat hanging from its back. Maggie darted forward, pulling the coat up and around the creature. She yanked the belt free from the loops and flipped it over the Acheri’s head. Maggie tried to tie it in a rough knot behind the demon’s back, hoping to secure it long enough for it to work, but the belt slipped awkwardly through her hands.

  The demon bucked and shrieked with supernatural strength. If the heat of the fire had weakened it, the touch of the coat had re-energised the creature, sending it into a frenzy. Maggie couldn’t tie the belt on the writhing demon with just one hand, so she settled for holding it tight with her good hand. The Acheri spun around in an attempt to shake the coat off and took Maggie with her. For a second Maggie felt herself lifting off the ground and almost lost her grip on the belt. When she landed, her right knee hit the ground, sending pain vibrating up through her hip.

  The Acheri lunged, dragging Maggie forward. Still on one knee, she tried to plant her left foot and lean back, but it was hopeless. The demon’s unnatural strength was too much for her; she had no choice but to be dragged forward. The creature’s body shifted and undulated under the coat as it jerked towards the burning shed.

  Maggie could hear the fire cracking and the thunderous sound of timbers snapping. At the entrance to the shearing shed she realised the demon, in its panic, had dragged her back to its den. The doors stood open blazing with red-hot flames. Thick black smoke billowed out – the entire structure was only moments away from collapsing in on itself.

  Suddenly the pull on the belt lessened. The creature’s strength ebbed. It paused only a second, but long enough for Maggie to get her right leg under her and stand. She twisted the belt into a rough knot and let go. She expected the Acheri to dart away from her, but instead it turned back.

  Its face melted and bubbled as though the heat came from inside its skull. The lower part of its jaw fused to its neck and one side of its forehead bulged into a huge blister. All that remained were its eyes – yellow and burning with hate. It looked at Maggie with malevolence that seemed to reach into her soul. It wanted to attack her, to tear her to pieces, but hesitated. Maggie’s hand drew up to her throat – the silk of the red scarf still clung to her neck.

  Then it struck her; the Acheri had not actually hurt her, Jackson or Doug. It had attacked Rodney, the only one of them not wearing red.

  She pulled the scarf from her neck and rushed at the demon. It limped back a step, the look in its eyes changing from hate to fear as Maggie shoved the scarf into its fused-open mouth.

  She felt its teeth tear at her hand but she pushed with all her might. Drawing back from the demon, Maggie watched it shudder. Thick yellow fluid spilled out of its mouth, soaking the scarf. Still fighting for freedom, it gave one last jerky spin, lifting the bottom of the coat like a child spinning in a new dress. The edge of the coat whipped through the flames on the door of the shed and caught fire. It burnt with an eerie speed. Within seconds the demon was alight.

  Howling with pain and surprise, its cries echoed off the hills. Then it stood unmoving as it was consumed by the fire. Maggie watched as the coat and the creature melted into one, finally crumbling and becoming part of the burning building. Overhead, a cloud of black rustled and swooped. Crows flew in every direction.

  For what seemed like an hour, Maggie watched the fire destroy the old outbuilding, but in fact it could have been only minutes before the heat and the smoke forced her back to action. Covering her mouth, she turned away from the inferno.

  Someone called her name – she saw Rodney walk out of the smoke to the left of the fire. He rushed towards her and grabbed her arm, pulling her away.

  “We need to get out of here or we’ll be overcome by the smoke.” He pushed her from the scorching flames.

  They found Doug sitting next to Jackson’s lifeless body. During her battle with the Acheri, Maggie had been focused and resolute in the knowledge that she would give her life if necessary. But now, staring down at Jackson’s body, she realised that it had not been her life – that sacrifice was her friend’s.

  He’d come here not just because of his grandmother, although that was part of the reason, but because he was good and kind and had wanted to protect her. He’d loved her even though he knew she didn’t love him back.

  Maggie sank down next to Doug. She placed her hand on Jackson’s chest; it felt still –hollow. His face was turned towards her, eyes open and staring blankly. Everything about him crystallised into perfect focus: his light brown eyes; his dark, messy hair; the washed-out tan of his skin – all were clearly defined in the bright afternoon sunlight. Maggie put her head on his chest and let the tears come.

  She wanted to go back to that moment on the road when he’d told her he was leaving Thorn Tree– tell him how much she cared about him and how proud she was to have him as a friend. But she’d hesitated and let the moment pass. Now she’d never be able to tell him he was the bravest person she knew.

  “Maggie.” She heard Doug’s voice near her ear and felt his hands close over her shoulders. She tried to shrug them off, but he held her fast.

  “The fire is spreading. We’ve got to go.” Urgency edged his voice.

  Maggie closed her eyes and let her forehead rest on Jackson’s chest. She kn
ew she had to move, but guilt and sorrow washed over her so powerfully, she didn’t think she could stand.

  A voice cut through the pain. “Maggie, we need to take Jackson home.”

  Harness. He was alive!

  Standing over her, he offered his hand. As if in a dream, she reached out and let him pull her up. For a second she stared at him, unable to believe what she was seeing. He looked terrible, but he was real.

  “Ness.” She managed to croak out his name and then his arms were around her.

  She’d fought so hard to save him and now she could forget all the horror, if only for a moment. He led her away from the fire to the front of the house. Doug and Rodney carried Jackson’s body back to the Ute, and then the three of them drove away.

  Chapter Thirty-seven

  Maggie unlocked the back door and turned on the lights. Everything was as she’d left it almost two months ago. The Hawk’s Nest had remained unopened and unused while Maggie and a lot of other people in Thorn Tree took time to heal.

  In the weeks that followed the fire, there’d been an investigation into the cause and the deaths of Prapti Gautam and Jackson Palmer. The official story was that Maggie, Doug and Jackson had gone to the cottage at Prapti’s request. She’d claimed to have information about the source of the sickness sweeping the town. When they arrived at the cottage, it was on fire and Prapti attacked them with a cleaver, killing Jackson and injuring Maggie. Doug had finally overpowered her with a pitchfork he found in the back yard.

  The story made sense and officially the case was closed. While there were many unanswered questions, no charges were laid. Maggie watched the early morning light struggling to push through the windows, amber rays not quite stretching all the way across the kitchen. After the fire, no further deaths occurred relating to the unidentified virus. They’d stopped the Acheri, that had to mean something.

  Agnes suffered a stroke on the way to the hospital and was unable to give the police any information on Prapti. Maggie heard she was staying in a rehabilitation hospital in Perth. If Agnes ever recovered sufficiently to return to her home in Thorn Tree, Maggie wondered what she would do if she came face to face with the woman who had invited evil into their lives. Sometimes the thoughts kept her awake at night.

  Since the fire, Maggie had attended so many funerals, she’d developed an aversion to flowers. Each time she watched someone she loved or cared for being lowered into the ground, their casket draped in blossoms, she thought of Agnes. A dark place inside Maggie began to grow, taking root right about the time they buried Eddie. It was a place where hatred lived, and in the early hours of the morning when the faces of the dead filled her mind, Maggie thought of Agnes and hoped the woman suffered every day for the rest of her life.

  Soon after Maureen’s funeral, Doug put his house up for sale and moved to Margaret River to live with his younger brother and his wife. Maggie rang him a few times, but the conversation seemed difficult and stilted, both of them struggling to find things to talk about. She decided to leave it a while before calling again, but in her heart, she knew she would probably just settle on sending him a Christmas card once a year.

  Now Indian summer had turned into autumn and as life has a habit of doing, it moved on. Maggie stood for a moment looking around the empty cook’s kitchen and allowed her thoughts to turn to Jackson. She pictured him standing there talking and laughing about something a customer had said. The wave of guilt, now so familiar she almost felt comforted by its presence, washed over her. Of all the horror she’d been through, perhaps the hardest part was losing Jackson – knowing she was responsible for his death. A burden she’d have to live with, the price she’d pay for having Harness in her life.

  Since the day of the fire, she and Harness had grown closer than she ever thought possible. His recovery from the sickness was swift. It was as though whatever poison the Acheri breathed into him had vanished along with the demon. He didn’t remember much of what happened at the shearer’s cottage, but enough.

  At first, they had talked about that awful day and the events leading up to it. Now, it was something they shared, but felt no need to discuss. They enjoyed an intense and passionate relationship which began under perilous circumstances, leaving Maggie secretly fearful that normal, mundane life would see it fizzle.

  She supposed her fears stemmed from guilt and a deep-seated belief that God or fate or whatever force was controlling her destiny would never allow her the long-term happiness she craved. She had threatened Agnes, an old woman, sacrificed the life of one friend and risked the life of another because she refused to lose the man she loved. Do I deserve happiness?

  Maggie didn’t know the answer, but when she thought of Annabel, safe and happy playing with her new red setter pup, she knew she’d do it all over again.

  She put her bag down on the kitchen bench and struggled to work the zip. It had taken two painful surgeries to come close to repairing the damage to her left arm. She’d regained some movement, but still faced maybe a year’s worth of weekly visits to the physiotherapist, painful events where the exercise was often enough to bring tears to her eyes. The crude scar that ran the entire length of her forearm would be a permanent reminder of her encounter with evil. The surgeon who’d repaired the nerve damage had suggested plastic surgery, but Maggie refused. The scar was her link to Jackson and what they’d fought for that day. She wouldn’t see that memory erased or minimised in any way.

  During her recovery, she relived that day at the shearer’s cottage a thousand times, always coming back to the images the Acheri forced into her mind. At the time it felt like the creature was trying to torture and hurt her, but Maggie wondered if it had been trying to tell her something.

  Maybe it knew it was about to die and was trying to explain its own terrible beginnings? Had it once been an innocent child put to death because of primitive superstitions? Maggie knew she’d had no choice but to kill it. She despised the evil thing it had become, but could still feel sadness for the child it had once been.

  The back door opened. For a second, Maggie expected to hear Jackson’s voice, but it was Tess. For a moment, neither spoke.

  “Are we really doing this?” Tess looked older, the lines around her eyes were deep and a few greys stood out in her brown hair, but she was functioning again.

  Ollie made what the doctor’s called the best recovery possible. He would always walk with a limp but the headaches might improve over time. Thanks to Rodney, he was able to return to his job at the orchard on light duties.

  Now they were going through their daily routine and waiting for a time when life would make sense again. It had been Tess’s idea for the two of them to open up the café, insisting that it was time to get back to living a normal life.

  “Yes, I’m glad I let you talk me into it.” Maggie patted her friend’s hand, then, feeling tears stinging her eyes, pulled her into a brief one-armed hug.

  “Things have to go forward or they’ll start moving backwards… and I couldn’t bear that.” Tess pressed her lips together.

  Maggie could see her friend struggling to keep her emotions in check, so she changed the subject.

  “I’m thinking of adding sliders to the menu, what do you think?”

  “Sounds very trendy. Do you think Thorn Tree’s ready for it?”

  Maggie smiled and just for a second it seemed like old times.

  THE END

  About The Author

  British born author, Nora O’Keeffe now lives in Australia with her husband and children. She enjoys travelling and all things horror. The Stone Flowers is Nora’s debut horror novel.

  You can contact Nora at: nora8991@outlook.com

 

 

 
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