by Matt Shaw
“It’s dark,” he pointed out.
I looked around. It’s true. The light had gone pretty quickly but it was still possible to see in some areas where the trees were less thick. I looked up and pointed through the trees to where I could see the sky, “Look - it’s still light. All we have to do is get out of the woods. We walk in that direction,” I pointed, “and it will take us through to a nice river - out of the woodlands. You want to go there? I thought you’d like it...”
He looked from side to side again, “Are we close?”
“Really close,” I said. I walked ahead of him, “Come on - it’ll be fun. You’ll like it there,” I said.
“What about the monsters?” he asked. I turned back to him. He hadn’t moved. He was rooted firmly to the spot. He pulled the mask off his face. He looked petrified. Perhaps my earlier speech, to encourage his wearing of the mask, was a step too far. I walked back to him and crouched down to his level.
“You knew I was messing around, right? Monsters? There are no such things as monsters,” I told him. Other than the monster which was staring at him right now, that is. People like me - we’re very much part of a cruel reality.
“But you said...”
“I know what I said. It’s just...That’s something parents, and uncles, say to children they’re looking after to try and keep them in line. It’s just bedtime stories meant to keep you from wandering around at night. Come on, I promise, everything is fine and the river is just the other side of these woods...” I held my hand out for him to take.
“You promise you won’t lie again?” he said. A stern tone in his voice that I had yet to experience from someone his age. I found it strangely endearing. I nodded. He pushed my hand away - perhaps trying to show me that he wasn’t as much of a child as he appeared to be. He lead the way towards where the light spilled through the trees from the moon above. A careful look around, to be sure I knew the way back, and I pressed on after him. I didn’t tell him to put his mask back on as, in this light, there was no need. No one else would be in the woods in this light.
As we carefully walked through the woods I couldn’t help but remember a joke someone told me years ago. At least, I thought it was a joke when I first heard it. It was a man and a young girl walking through the woods late at night. I’m not sure if it was her father or a pretend relative such as myself. Anyway, this girl, she turns to the man and tells him that she is scared. The man, a shake in his voice, replies, “You’re scared? How do you think I feel? I have to walk out of here by myself yet.” The people with me - they all laughed too. Fellow cons. Maybe we just have a darker sense of humour than your Average Joe. I don’t know. I remember finding it funny at the time. Could be the way it was told, mind you. Regardless, I never realised I would have the opportunity to actually make it come true!
I was watching the ground intently, on the off-chance I might stumble across another large log waiting to trip me and - just as important - one which was suitable to complete the necessary task at hand. No such luck. Small twigs, mud, puddles - certainly nothing of use. I should have brought that log with me. It was just a shame it wasn’t that little bit lighter to make it easier to carry - either that or Tom wasn’t a little bit bigger so I could make him carry it. I couldn’t help but snigger at the sadistic thought of getting him to carry the very object which would end his young life. Jesus - what’s wrong with me. I never used to be like this. Hell, there was a guy on the inside who had murdered children and I was one of the first to put the boot in when we cornered him in his cell - thanks to the guards giving us a little ‘quiet time’ for a ten to one chat. Months later and I’ve potentially turned into the same kind of monster as the one we almost killed. I hate myself yet know there is no choice - well, there’s no choice that I’m willing to entertain. I guess, when it comes down to it, we all have a little evil within.
As we neared the clearing in the woods, and the last bit of daylight, I heard the sound of water; the river. I knew it had been close. I saw it, too, when I reached the clearing. The trees thinned out to just a few dotted around and, in their place, were mud embankments and a river which flowed gently, winding its way through the countryside.
“I used to swim here as a kid,” I told Tom in the hope that a conversation would distract me from my own evil thoughts - at least long enough to make it easier when it came to actually acting upon them, “when my mum and dad brought me. I’ll tell you what - I remember it being absolutely freezing!”
“Is it deep?” Tom asked. He wasn’t getting too close to the water’s edge. Funny, I thought he would have been keen to stand on the embankment so as to throw things into the clear waters like most other kids would have been doing at his age.
“Some of it is,” I told him. “Some of it - you can touch the floor easily but then, other bits, it’s as though the floor vanishes from underneath you without so much as a warning.” He backed away slightly, as though the water made him nervous. “What’s the matter?” I asked him. I already suspected that I knew the answer he’d give.
“I can’t swim,” he said.
Bingo.
“Well, even if you could,” I told him, “I wouldn’t recommend it. You’d probably freeze to death in this temperature. When I came here, with my parents, it was the summer holidays. I don’t think my mum and dad would have let me...” I stopped talking as a simple plan popped into my tired mind. So obvious. Push him in. Pretend to slip, push him, he’ll stumble into the water and start panicking. I get a branch, or something, and hold him under the water with it until the task is done. Then I just need to weigh the body down to ensure it stays under the freezing waters. My heart started to race as the idea’s seed turned into something more established. It’ll be easier than throttling him or beating him to death. At least I won’t see him fight if he’s under the water. Not as clear as the fight I’d see from him on dry land anyway. “Look,” I told him, “it’s perfectly safe...Come on...You can see all the fish swimming around. There’s some really weird ones in there too...” I took his hand and led him to the water. It’ll be quick too. The coldness of the water will immediately take his breath away and then it’s just a matter of holding him under. Years ago I had done the same to a baby bird. Not for fun. My cat had got a hold of it. She had used it as a toy, until she grew bored with it, and then brought it to me as a present. An unwanted one, I hasten to add. The poor bird was alive. It was in a mess but alive. I knew I had to kill it - not because of some cruel instinct within me - because it was in pain and suffering. Killing it was the kindest thing. I didn’t know how to do it though. My father once bricked a hamster to death which had got wet-tail. He refused to take it to the vets so they could charge him a ridiculous fee to put it to sleep so he got a brick and slammed it down. Hard. It was quick and, I’m guessing, painless - all things considered. It was also messy and I didn’t have the stomach - that my father had so I didn’t fancy doing the same to the bird. I just put it in a carrier bag, took it outside to the family pond, and held it under the water until it stopped struggling. I cried as I did it. Buried it afterwards too. Thankfully it was quick. I’m hoping this will be too. “The hours I spent trying to catch some of these little fish with a rubbish little net that I had. You know,” I continued, trying to act calm and give the impression that everything was okay, “I never once did catch one of those fish. Maybe tomorrow I’ll be able to get us a net from somewhere and we can come back and you can try?”
“Can we go back now?” asked Tom. His face suggested my anecdotes about my childhood were doing little to keep him calm, or happy about being close to water. “It’s dark.” I looked around - I was so busy with my thoughts and plans that I had failed to realise it was actually dark. I thought the light, what little there was, was from the fading sun but it was from the full moon instead - beaming down upon us from the cloudless winter sky. Doesn’t time fly when you’re contemplating murder.
“Five more minutes,” I said. We were standing on the water’s edg
e now. His legs were shaking with fear. A couple more seconds, minutes at the most, and everything will be over. I felt my eyes start to well up for what I was about to do. I’m not that monster yet but I know I have to be. Would God ever forgive? I wondered whether I could actually go through with it. Yes. I could. I knew I could. But I wondered whether I should. Perhaps I should just go home and let him go back to his mum and dad? Perhaps I should just go to prison and do the time for my crimes. I deserve to. That’s plain to see. It’s just that - I said I’d never go back. Not there. It was horrible. Some people say it’s easy, serving time, but they’re generally the people who haven’t served any real time and - well - I’ve seen enough of the inside to know I prefer the outside. I put my hand on Tom’s shoulder and prepared myself to give him a shove into the water. I couldn’t do it though. Why does he deserve to die, just because of my greed? He isn’t a bad person. For all I know - his parents aren’t either. They must have worked hard to get their money. They must have worked hard to get where they are in life. What kind of person am I to think it’s okay for me to take their money or their son away from them? A monster. That’s what I am. That’s who I am. I looked down at Tom. I’m a monster. The adrenalin surged through my body more than I had ever felt before. I’m a monster and yet I’m sorry. I tensed my arm. Goodbye Tom.
“I’m sorry,” I told him.
11.
I froze as a branch snapping, from within the woods behind me, caught my attention. A heavy snap - the kind of noise you only get when something large steps, or falls, onto a branch on the ground. I turned in the direction of the noise sure that I’d see someone looking back at me. The moonlight hadn’t penetrated the trees, though, and it was hard to see anything beyond the first tree other than an eerie blackness.
“Hello?” I called out. Tom turned in the direction I was looking too. “Anyone there?” I paused - waited for an answer which didn’t come. A trick of my imagination? One final desperate move from my subconscious to try and stop me from taking back my life? Another snapping noise from the same area. Someone was definitely there, watching us. My heart skipped a beat at the thought of someone standing in the darkness, silently observing us but it skipped another beat when I realised the boy wasn’t wearing his mask anymore. Was the moonlight strong enough to allow the stranger the chance to see his face clearly enough to recognise him from the media? “I know you’re there,” I called out. I hoped my bluff would encourage them to step into the open and reveal themselves. “I can hear you. Nice try, though...” I waited for an answer again.
“I don’t hear anything,” said Tom - loud enough for me to hear but not for anyone else’s ears should anyone actually be out there. “What is it?” he asked. I didn’t answer him. I was just standing there watching the tree-line intently for any signs of movements. Regardless of whether there was anyone there or not, I had spooked myself enough to ensure I wouldn’t be following through with any ill-conceived plans.
I shook my head, “I guess I’m hearing things,” I told him. I still refused to take my eyes from the trees though. “Come on, kid, let’s go home.” Suddenly, from the same area as the previous noises, I heard the sound of some bushes rustling. “Okay, asshole, I know you’re there...” I looked around on the ground and spotted a large stone. Perfect. I picked it up and threw it towards the sound of the noise. It sounded as though it hit something solid. Another rustling from the bushes. The rock had clearly disturbed something. Something big. I looked down again and grabbed another rock from the edge of the water. Again, I threw it into the bush and, again, the bush rustled as though someone was moving away from the path of the stone. “I’ve got loads more rocks to keep throwing,” I pointed out. “Come out and make it easy on yourself...”
“I want to go home,” said Tom helpfully.
“Ssh.” I picked up another stone and threw it again. Same result as the previous. I went to pick up another stone but noticed something better instead - a large branch a little further down. It must have washed down from the river further upstream. I grabbed it. Feels heavy - not rotten as I feared it might have been. I guess it hadn’t been in the water too long. I turned back to the tree-line. “Come out or I’m coming in...” I held the branch as though it was a baseball bat. “Last chance, asshole.”
“I want to go home!” Tom repeated. He was scared. So was I. The only difference between the two of us was that I did a better job of hiding it. I wouldn’t give the asshole in the bushes the satisfaction of knowing he was freaking me out.
I counted down another ten seconds, in my mind, before storming towards the tree-line, “Okay - come on out, pervert! You like spying on kids?” The bushes suddenly parted and a large...What...A dog on two legs? A fucking dog? I took a step back as...It stepped out. Seven foot tall. My mouth fell open. Tom screamed. It...A growl. Its teeth. They must be the size of my fingers. Sharp too. Drool hanging from one of the incisors. What the fuck. So many thoughts in hardly any seconds. Another growl. A split second. I raised the branch and swung at its head. A good connect. The...thing....stumbled to the side, from the force of the hit. I spun around to Tom and screamed, “RUN!” I started to run, with Tom, without looking back. I could hear that - whatever it was - it was standing up and it was, most likely, pissed. As I caught up with Tom, I scooped him up in my arms with a strength I was unaware that I possessed.
Tom kept screaming. I wanted to but was too busy running as fast as I could. “It’s coming!” he screamed over and over again. I don’t know how we made it to the tree-line, a little further down stream - without it catching up with us but we did. Who knows, maybe it wasn’t chasing as hard as it could. Maybe it was toying with us. Maybe it was enjoying the torment it was causing. I didn’t care. I just cared about getting us away from it. Whatever ‘it’ was. I carried on running, in the woods, being mindful of my footing for fear of tripping again. It was near on pitch black in there, making it even harder to make out where I was going or where I was stepping. It didn’t matter though, I knew the rough direction of where the fence was and - on the other side of that - it wasn’t too far to walk until we’d be back on the bridal path...
I’m not sure when exactly but I became aware that I couldn’t hear anything chasing anymore; I could just hear the sound of my own heavy breathing, my footsteps and Tom. Out of breath, I slowed and turned to see if anything was still following us. Nothing. I waited, with my heart in my mouth. Nothing. No other sounds, no heavy footsteps, no running, no growls, no bushes moving or branches snapping. There was nothing. I lowered Tom to the ground. He clung to me tightly but I managed to shake him off.
“It’s okay,” I told him. “It has gone. I think it has gone.”
“What was it?” he asked. He sounded petrified, not that I can blame him. I shook my head. and shrugged. I didn’t know what it was. I knew what it looked like but I didn’t want to say it out loud for it couldn’t have been. This is the real world. The only monsters are the people like me. Like Frank. We’re the monsters. We’re what’s real. Whatever that was - it couldn’t have been...one of those things. It couldn’t have.
I turned around and saw the fence, “Quickly!” I urged Tom to head towards it. I followed and helped him over before going over myself. Another check over my shoulder to see if anything was there. The night was still. If it hadn’t been for Tom seeing it too - I’d have doubted my own senses. I grabbed Tom’s hand and started walking - a quick pace for me and a jog for Tom - back towards where the bridal path would be. I’m not sure why we aren’t being chased anymore and I don’t care but, even so, I don’t want to hang around on the off-chance it comes back. Tom kept looking back too. “Just keep walking!” I told him.
“I want to go home!” he said. Him and me both. As soon as we get back to the car I had already decided to pack up and get out of there as quickly as we could. Leave whatever that was behind us. Maybe we could just keep driving north - maybe find somewhere where the story of the stolen boy hadn’t reached? I didn’t know and
I didn’t care. The only thing I knew for certain was that I didn’t have it in me to hurt the boy. If I really did want to go through with it - I would have left him by the river. Not important now - now it’s all about making it out of the woods in one piece, and leaving behind whatever was by the river.
“We’re going home, buddy,” I told him. “We’re going home.” I quickened the pace.
12.
We stepped out of the woodlands. A final look over my shoulder. Nothing following still. I couldn’t help but laugh at the situation, now that we were in the clear. What the hell was that though? We carried on hurrying towards our lodge. The backs of my legs were killing me from the exercise. Clearly I’m not as fit as I used to be. I reached into my pocket and fished for the... Shit. Where are they? I checked my other pocket. No keys. No keys. No keys... Back pocket. Nothing there. Shit. Shit. Shit. Where are they? I thought back to the woods. Damn. They must have fallen out of my pocket when I fell over. I turned to the path we had just walked down - there’s no way I’m going back in there. No way.
