The Devil's Woods

by Brian Moreland

  Kyle stopped. “Guys, hold up.”

  “What is it?” Jessica asked.

  He looked around. His flashlight beam probed the thick vegetation. “Do you guys hear that?”

  “What?” Eric asked.

  “Dead silence,” Kyle said. “No insects buzzing. No birds singing. This forest doesn’t seem to have any animal life.”

  Eric snorted. “You’re letting your imagination run away again.”

  “He’s got a point,” Jessica said. “The mosquitoes stopped biting the moment we came in here.” She shone her light across wet leaves. “You’d think this place would be croaking with tree frogs.”

  Kyle kicked over a log. “No creepy crawlies either.”

  Jessica turned over another stone. “Bloody weird, is what it is.”

  Eric said, “I’m sure we’ll come across plenty of animals. In fact, be on the lookout for bears and wild boar.”

  “Oh, that makes me want to keep going.” Jessica groaned.

  “Don’t worry, babe. I’ve hunted just about every kind of animal. Most run away before you even see them.”

  Kyle pulled the rifle off his shoulder and continued down the winding trail. As they hiked another ten minutes, not once did Jessica hear a bird, see an animal, or get bit by a mosquito. Nothing but plants and fungus seemed to thrive inside this forest.

  * * *

  A light rain began to fall on the leaves and branches. Kyle put on his windbreaker and pulled the hood over his head. Macâya Forest reminded him of a rainforest he had explored in Costa Rica. While that jungle had teemed with exotic wildlife—giant blue butterflies, monkeys, sloths, toucans and poison frogs of every color—this forest teemed with spirits. He sensed them watching from the shadows, even saw a few ghostly faces before they vanished into the mist. Some had Cree features. Others were white men from an earlier time. Kyle remembered the legend about Hagen Thorpe and the dozen lumberjacks who had come into these woods over a hundred and thirty years ago. All but Hagen had been slain by a beast hiding in a glowing green fog.

  The Macâya is just a legend, Kyle reminded himself. Still his imagination conjured a creature with enormous claws. As if to heighten his fear, the ghost of a man whose face had been slashed off crossed the path in front of Kyle. He fought back the urge to run.

  Just stay calm, Winterbone said. You’re walking through a death pocket.

  What the hell’s a death pocket? Kyle asked, grateful to hear the voice of his old friend.

  A vortex where lost souls get trapped, like poltergeists haunting a house.

  Kyle swallowed. Are these spirits dangerous?

  Only if you fear them. Fear is like a doorway into your mind.

  Kyle did his best to ignore the specters that moved just outside his flashlight beam. Eric and Jessica were oblivious, of course. When he asked them if they had seen anything strange, they both confirmed that all they saw were endless trees and plants. Kyle envied them for being blind to the spirit world.

  A strong vibration pulsed up ahead. We’re getting close to the heart of the forest. Kyle thought of his father leading his expedition team along this path. What had they been after? Elkheart had traveled the world to nearly every mysterious site imaginable—the pyramids of Central and South America, Egypt, and the ancient temples of Cambodia. What mystery did Macâya Forest hide that caused Elkheart to explore this long-forgotten place?

  The trail ended at a cave at the base of a mountain. The strange vibration that sent pulses across Kyle’s skin resonated from somewhere deep within that black chasm. All three huddled at the cave’s entrance and shined their lights into its maw. Green lichen covered the walls and ivy grew over what appeared to be man-made crossbeams. A metal track ran down the center of the tunnel’s dirt floor, disappearing into darkness.

  “Well, I’ll be damned,” Kyle said. “An old mine shaft.”

  Jessica said, “Like the copper mines we saw on the flight over.”

  “Yeah. This one was probably abandoned in the 1800s.”

  Eric looked disappointed. “Dad hiked all this way on a top-secret expedition for this?”

  “What were you expecting?” Kyle asked.

  “Something more exotic, like an undiscovered pyramid.”

  Kyle laughed. “In Canada?” He shook his head.

  His brother ducked under the dangling ivy and peered into the shaft.

  “Hey, what are you doing?” Kyle asked.

  “What does it look like? I’m going to see where it leads.” Eric ventured into the cave. “You guys coming?”

  Jessica shook her head. “I don’t do caves. You boys have at it, but please stay where I can see you.” Chaser stayed beside her.

  Kyle hated any kind of tight spaces, especially dark ones. The thought of entering the mine shaft caused his throat to close up. But he didn’t want to look like a coward in front of Jessica, so he stepped into the tunnel’s dark mouth and hurried to catch up with his brother. They walked side by side, probing the glistening green walls with the beams of their flashlights.

  Purple mushrooms with sparkling crystals grew on either side of the railcar tracks.

  The ceremonial shrooms. Kyle suspected that Ray Roamingbear ventured in here more than he let on. Perhaps Grandfather, too, in his younger days. Kyle wondered what other secrets his elders were keeping. Something compelling enough for his father to bring an expedition team into these forbidden woods. One question nagged at Kyle. Why had the team brought along mercenaries with heavy assault rifles? Did his father believe that the legendary Macâya existed? Many of the mushrooms had been crushed by boots. Elkheart’s team had explored this shaft. After twenty yards the tunnel curved. The muddy ground sloped downward into what seemed an infinite abyss.

  Kyle glanced back at the entrance. It looked far away now. “I think we’ve gone far enough.”

  Eric kept exploring, testing the ground and crossbeams every few feet. “It’s still pretty sturdy.”

  “You know those stories you read about people who get lost in caves? I’d really prefer that not be us.”

  “Kyle, don’t be such a chicken shit.”

  “This is no time to bust my balls. Seriously, without caving equipment this is dangerous.”

  “Check this out.” Eric pulled a torch off the wall. It smelled of fresh kerosene.

  “Someone’s been here recently.” He lit the end of the torch with a lighter. The flame pushed back the shadows.

  “I think Dad was here,” Kyle said.

  Eric cupped a hand around his mouth and yelled, “Elkheart!” His voice echoed in the hollow passage. They waited for a response. The vibration down below intensified.

  Kyle got a gnawing feeling in his stomach. And then he heard distant cries, like tortured souls screaming up from hell. He grabbed his brother’s arm. “We need to get out of here.”

  “Why?” Eric hadn’t heard the voices.

  The malevolent cries sounded like they were moving closer.

  “Come on, Eric!”

  “Just a little farther.” He walked a few more feet, challenging the darkness with his torch. “Elkheart, are you down there?”

  Kyle heard the echoes of running boots approaching. “Do you hear that?”

  Eric turned around. “Hear what?” And then a specter passed right through him and dashed past Kyle, grazing him with frosty air.

  Eric doubled over, gripping his chest and coughing. “What the fuck was that?”

  Kyle rushed over to him. “You okay?”

  “Yeah, just freezing. Fuck.” Eric was shaking violently as if he’d just been pulled out of icy water.

  “Let’s get out of here.” Kyle threw his brother’s arm over his shoulder and walked him toward the exit. As they rounded the curve, Kyle nearly choked on his own breath. At the mouth of the mine shaft, standing in the limelight, was the ghost of a man from his father’s expedition.

  * * *

  Shawna woke in a silent scream. She could still see fragments of her nightmare as t
hey fluttered back into reality like a swarm of bats. She had dreamed she was drifting in total darkness, her body naked and open, while unseen claws and appendages ravaged every inch of her. The beast’s hideous mouth had drooled onto her face, and she had screamed as saliva oozed down her cheeks like slimy tears.

  Fully conscious now, Shawna searched for the nightmare that had brought her here. Was it finally gone? The stone chamber was dark except for one corner where flames crackled on a torch. Water constantly dripped down mossy walls.

  She lay on her side in a muddy puddle, half her hair and face soaked. Filthy liquid seeped into her mouth. She spat, coughing. She felt her body. She was naked and shivering. Pain spiraled through her pelvis and legs as she tried to raise herself. She managed to half-sit, half-lie against a mossy wall. Her body was covered in cuts and bruises. The worst pain burned between her legs. The area felt raw and full of fire. She folded her legs against her chest, arms clinging around her knees, her buttocks submerged in a cold puddle.

  Images of last night flashed through her mind. She couldn’t believe Zack was dead. Torn apart and eaten by those things. And then one of them chose her. She sobbed. All she wished for now was an instant death. There was no point in living. No sanity to go home to. She searched for something sharp to cut her wrists, but there was nothing.

  What now then? Wait until the beast returned? I’ve got to get away. She crawled toward a doorway that opened into a passage.

  A groaning sound, like a sleeping bear, issued from above.

  She froze.

  Across the chamber, she spotted several dark crevices in the wall, like catacombs. In one of them something stirred. A head lifted. The thing glared down at her with glowing white eyes.

  Shawna retreated back to her corner, pulling her legs tight against her body. She buried her face in her hands and muffled her sobs. Fuck, I’m going to die down here. And then she heard a distant voice echoing from some far off chamber. Shawna looked up. A man’s voice was calling down. Someone to rescue her! Her hope was shattered by an angry growl. The beast climbed down from the catacombs and loped past her, shrieking down the tunnel.

  * * *

  In Macâya Forest, Kyle hurried back up the path with Eric and Jessica following.

  “Where are you going?” Eric yelled.

  “Just follow me.” Kyle could see the ghost walking up ahead. It was the old professor, his father’s partner. Kyle recognized him from his visions of the expedition team hiking into this forest. One of the lenses of his glasses was cracked and he had claw marks on his forehead. He veered off the path, waving for Kyle to follow him into the jungle.

  As Kyle ventured into the dense foliage, Eric grabbed his shoulder and spun him around. “What’s gotten into you? Are you nuts?”

  Kyle squared off against Eric. “Do you want to know what happened to Dad? Then shut up and follow me.” He pulled out the machete and kept walking.

  “You’ve really lost it this time!”

  Not looking back, Kyle whacked at branches, carving a new path with the machete. A moment later, he heard leaves slapping as his brother and Jessica followed. Chaser ran ahead, barking, as if he also saw the ghost. Another strange vibration pulsed from somewhere in the thicket. The rainforest brightened somewhat as the clouds above the treetops parted. Ten feet ahead, the ghost of the professor passed effortlessly through the brush. He was wearing a green parka that had wide slashes across the back of it. Kyle could see deep gashes in his flesh, and part of his spine. He wished the man would speak, but like Nina Whitefeather, the professor remained mute. He moved swiftly through the forest, urging Kyle to keep up. Kyle chopped his way through crisscrossing branches. He waded knee-deep across a stream to a wide clearing. He climbed the grassy bank and halted at the base of a campground that had been ravaged—shredded tents and backpacks, scattered pots and pans and clothing. Spatters of blood stained everything.

  Kyle stumbled at the sight of the mutilated camp. His heart clenched.

  Jessica said, “Oh, my God.”

  A garbled sound was all Kyle’s throat could summon. He was tearing up, assuming the worst. He searched the refuse. An old campfire was nothing but damp ash. Dozens of empty brass cartridges covered the ground. There weren’t any bodies. Just the violent aftermath of what must have been an animal attack.

  “Shit, they’re all dead,” Eric said. “Every one of them.”

  “He’s gone,” was all Kyle could say as he collapsed to his knees.

  * * *

  Eric placed his hand on Kyle’s shoulder. They had traveled all the way from Seattle only to discover that their father had been killed. Eric didn’t know what to feel. His father had been dead to him for twenty years.

  He rummaged through the campsite for any research that might have been left behind. Oddly, there were no journals or computers. No notes of any kind. No video cameras either. Who would have taken them? The attack appeared to have been by a large savage animal. Or perhaps a pack of them. Wild boars? Hungry wolves? Or some kind of anomaly that all the other animals feared? Where were the bodies? He looked under the torn nylon tents. All he found were shredded sleeping bags.

  Eric stood and concentrated on a wall of foliage. Seeing a trail of bloody clothes, he stepped a few feet into the jungle and the ground fell out from under him.

  He dropped several feet and landed in the mud at the bottom of a dark hole.

  Up above, Kyle and Jessica called his name.

  “Down here!”

  Their heads peered over the edge about twelve feet up. Kyle said, “Holy shit! Are you okay?”

  “I think so.” He sat up. “It’s dark as hell down here.”

  “You’ve fallen into a sink hole,” Kyle said. “Don’t panic. We’re gonna get you out.”

  “Did you break any bones?” Jessica asked.

  He rubbed his ankles and legs. “No. I’m okay. Fortunately I landed on a mound of mud.” It was then that he noticed the odor. He put a hand over his nose. “God, it stinks down here.”

  Kyle lay on his stomach, reaching down his hands. “See if you can climb.”

  Eric stood, examining the mud walls. Water trickled from above, making tiny waterfalls. He grabbed a few twisted roots and started climbing, but they snapped and he slid back down. He kept trying, the tips of his fingers almost touching Kyle’s, and then the last of the big roots broke and Eric landed on his ass in the mud. “Shit!”

  “Hold tight,” Kyle said. “We’ll look for some rope.”

  Eric sat back against the earth wall. He turned on his flashlight and probed the darkness with his beam. The sink hole was actually a tunnel that ran in two directions. This one was different than the mine shaft. There were no metal tracks, just a muddy floor. The tunnel looked like something a giant mole would have burrowed. He walked in the direction of the foul odor, holding his forearm over his mouth and nose. His beam spotlighted several deep impressions in the mud as if someone had been exploring down here. He came across someone’s boot. Then a bloody shirt. Then another boot with a shard of bone sticking out of it. “Oh, fuck.” Swallowing hard, he raised the flashlight. His beam shone across a large pile of bloody bones.

  Eric backpedaled, slipping and falling against the mud wall. He jerked the flashlight left then right then back to the death heap. Several human skulls sat atop the bone pile. They had been arranged in a circle, facing outward.

  * * *

  Kyle tossed a backpack and growled in frustration. “What kind of expedition team goes into the jungle without rope?”

  Jessica searched one of the fallen tents. “There has to be some around here.”

  “We’ve checked everywhere.” He scanned the campsite. So many empty brass cartridges littered the dirt floor like an insane battlefield. “And where are all the guns?”

  “I don’t see any.”

  “Precisely. Someone’s taken all the weapons. And probably the rope, as well.”

  “How are we going to get Eric out?” Jessica asked.
>
  “We’ll have to improvise.” Kyle grabbed his machete and started separating the tent nylon from the poles. “Help me tie these tents together.”