The Devil's Woods

by Brian Moreland

  Kyle ran up the staircase. “Jessica!” He reached the doorway and halted at a ledge over a dead drop. The winged devil spiraled down a deep chasm that was illuminated by emeralds embedded in the walls. Lindsey wailed in the Macâya’s arms as they disappeared into a dark abyss far below.

  Kyle ran back down to the mist-shrouded stage and called Jessica’s name.

  She yelled back. As he searched the fog, she barreled into his arms.

  Elkheart came over to them. “Less than six minutes. Come on!” He led them back to the archway marked by the glowing stick. Elkheart entered the tunnel first, then Jessica. Kyle hurried through the narrow tube on hands and knees, urging Jessica to keep moving. Voices shrilled behind him. He glanced back and saw glowing eyes moving toward him.

  At the other end, his father yelled, “Three more minutes! Hurry!”

  Kyle wiggled through the tight rocks and made his way out the drainage pipe. He followed Jessica and Elkheart up the mine shaft. As they neared the exit, his father pulled another C-4 brick out of his vest and stuck it onto one of the wooden beams. He set the timer. “Thirty seconds now.”

  Demon cries echoed behind them.

  Kyle guided Jessica out of the mine shaft. Night had fallen. The rainforest was pitch-black now. Kyle’s father remained inside the cave, firing his flamethrower and yelling like a madman.

  “Dad, come on!”

  “Keep going!”

  Kyle and Jessica ran down the wooded path. A blast shook the ground like an earthquake and the two stumbled to the forest floor. Debris filled the air. Jessica crawled into Kyle’s arms. They lay in a bed of wild ferns for several moments, as the ground continued to tremor from deeper explosions. Kyle held her head to his chest, thankful she was alive.

  Then he felt a familiar vibration from the pines and heard droning sounds. White lights shimmered through the forest. He shielded Jessica as ghosts entered the moonlit clearing, surrounding them.

  Kyle stared in awe. “Do you see them?”

  “See who?” Jessica asked.

  Dozens of specters took form. The ghosts of his ancestors. Among the Cree people stood lumberjacks from a century ago and countless men and women, including Nina Whitefeather, Zack, and Eric. Madu and Scarpetti. The luminescent eyes of the ghosts looked at Kyle, then one by one the spirits flew upward to the sky. Kyle felt a hollow in his chest as Eric went with them. Nina remained behind. She floated over to Kyle and touched his arm with icy fingers. The Cree girl smiled. Then she, too, floated upward.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  After the last of the ghosts disappeared, Macâya Forest turned dark again.

  Kyle helped Jessica to her feet. He heard the slap of branches and then his father emerged, covered in soot, but very much alive. “Let’s get out of these damned woods.”

  As they paddled the canoe across the swamp, Kyle heard beastly howls coming from Macâya Forest. They had survived the cave, but now they had to get back to the plane. Kyle prayed they could reach Hagen’s Cove before the shifters caught up to them.

  The three arrived at the Bronco only to discover Shawna and Amy missing.

  Kyle called out, “Shawna!”

  “Over here!”

  He found her sitting in the dirt road, cradling the shotgun and sobbing. Kyle kneeled beside her. “You okay?”

  She shook her head.

  “Where’s Amy?” Elkheart asked.

  Shawna pointed to the woods that bordered the road. Blood covered the high grass.

  “No…” Their father ran into the trees.

  Kyle helped his sister to her feet and walked her to the Bronco. He pulled her and Jessica into his arms, grateful to have them back.

  Howls echoed behind them, sounding closer.

  “Oh my God, they’re still coming,” Jessica said.

  “You two get in the truck. I’ll get Dad.” Kyle grabbed Shawna’s shotgun and followed the bloody trail. Twenty yards into the forest his flashlight shone on his father’s back. He was on his knees. Over his shoulder, Kyle saw Amy. Her eyes were closed and she appeared to be unconscious or dead. There was so much blood covering the ground and her legs. Kyle’s light followed an umbilical cord. Feeding at Amy’s breast was an infant with glistening gray flesh. It turned its head. A face with only a sharp-toothed mouth screeched back at them.

  Elkheart yelled and knocked it off Amy’s chest. The newborn demon rolled into the grass. His father held out his hand. “Give me the shotgun.”

  Kyle handed it over.

  As the baby shifter raised its head and cried, Elkheart aimed and blew the hell out of it. He dropped the gun and took Amy in his arms, shaking her. “Amy…” He caressed her face. “Wake up, Amy, wake up.” His voice was full of tears.

  Kyle touched her wrist. No pulse. He put a hand on his father’s shoulder. “She’s gone.”

  “No, she can’t be.” Elkheart pumped her chest, trying desperately to revive her.

  “Dad, we have to go.”

  His father wailed and pounded his fist on the ground beside her body.

  As the howls drew nearer, Kyle helped his shaken father back to the truck and sat him in the passenger seat. He was in no shape to drive. In the backseat, Jessica and Shawna watched out the back windows, urging Kyle to hurry.

  The sounds of water splashing echoed from the swamp. Branches snapped, as glowing eyes moved through the thicket of trees.

  Kyle leapt behind the wheel, floored the gas, and tore up the dirt road.

  * * *

  Only darkened trees filled the rearview mirror as Kyle drove the Ford Bronco through the empty Cree village and past the main cabin. His childhood home had burned to the ground and was now just foundation, ash and billowing smoke. There was nothing for them here anymore. This land belonged to the Macâya. And the half-human shifters who worshipped the ancient beast.

  Kyle’s hands still felt electric as he drove down the reservation road. He was only beginning to understand the nature of his gift. If he survived this, he made a vow to learn how to use it. In the passenger seat his father remained silent, a man shell-shocked by sudden loss. In the backseat Shawna leaned against the window, her eyes closed. If they made it out of these woods, his kid sister would never be the same. None of them would.

  Looking in the rearview mirror, Kyle met eyes with Jessica. They stared at one another for a long moment, riding in silence. While there were no comforting words that could be conjured after what they’d just been through, the look between them was all Kyle needed to keep going.

  As he sped along the dirt road, the headlights carving a swath through the night-shrouded trees, Kyle thought about the best way to escape. His seaplane was still parked at the marina at the edge of town. But in what condition? The townspeople could have destroyed it, torn out the engine. Or they could be waiting in Hagen’s Cove, ready to ambush anyone who tried to escape. Driving back into town was too risky. As much as Kyle loved his plane, he would have to leave it behind. The only other option was to follow a backwoods road around Lake Akwâkopiy, about thirty kilometers. Once they reached the Trans-Canada Highway, they would be safe. They could drive on to Calgary.

  Having a plan gave Kyle hope. At the T-section where the dirt road met the paved road, he turned left and sped towards the highway. A mile later he passed another dirt road and a sign: Thorpe Timber Mill: Delivering Lumber Products Since 1882. It occurred to him that Thorpe’s timberland, which neighbored the reservation, backed up to Macâya Forest. That must have been how the townspeople traveled back and forth to the mine shaft. Kyle wondered how many other cave openings there were along the mountain. He imagined the loggers returning to their vehicles. A deadly convoy racing up the dirt road.

  The thought made Kyle shudder. He pressed the pedal to the floor. Driving around a curve, he saw an obstruction up ahead and slammed on the brakes. A giant pine tree lay across the road, blocking their escape route.

  “Shit!” Kyle punched the steering wheel. He looked at his father. “Are there a
ny other roads that lead out?”

  “This is the only one.”

  “Fucking great,” Shawna said.

  Jessica gripped Kyle’s shoulder. “What are we going to do?”

  “We have to get to my plane or steal a boat.”

  “We’re going back into town?” Shawna said.

  “It’s our only choice,” Kyle said.

  Something growled in front of them. A shifter ran on all fours across the top of the fallen pine. The headlights reflected in its eyes. It flashed its fangs.

  Kyle jammed the gearshift into reverse, backed up and turned the Bronco around, throwing everyone sideways. Tires screeching, he drove pell-mell towards town. He passed the reservation sign as an army of shadows burst from the trees. Kyle swerved. Claws scraped the doors and windows. Shawna screamed as a beast rammed her side, causing the truck to fishtail. Kyle spun the wheel, clipping a creature with the front grill. Another shifter clung to the back bumper and was dragged a hundred feet before dropping away, its body rolling across the asphalt.

  Dozens of shadows with glowing eyes loped down the road after them, but the Bronco moved faster and gained distance, leaving the pack far behind.

  Kyle barely caught his breath before he passed a police car on the side of the road. Flashing red lights came on. The patrol car chased after them, its siren wailing.

  “Goddamn those bastards!” cursed Elkheart. He cocked the sawed-off shotgun. “Keep driving.”

  The police car rammed their back bumper. While one Mounty drove, Kyle saw Inspector Zano leaned out the passenger window with a pistol. Shots fired from behind.

  “Duck down!” Kyle swerved the Bronco as a bullet pinged the back door. A second shot blew out the rear window.

  The girls screamed.

  “Stay down!” Kyle yelled.

  “Move to the left side!” Elkheart spun with the shotgun and fired out the window. “Let ’em pass!”

  Kyle let off of the gas. The police car pulled up alongside them. Inspector Zano stood halfway out the window, shooting wildly.

  Elkheart shot the driver point-blank in the face. The man’s head exploded, splattering black blood across the windshield. The car careened off to the side of the road, into the forest.

  Kyle floored the accelerator.

  His father sat back in his seat. “Everybody all right?”

  Jessica and Shawna said they were okay.

  Kyle raced the Bronco past a green sign: ten kilometers to Hagen’s Cove. He watched the mirrors, but nothing else chased after them.

  * * *

  Hagen’s Cove was a ghost town, every log building dark and silent. The bells of the old church started clanging, echoing along the empty streets. To Kyle it sounded like a distress call. He worried that someone might be at the top of the bell tower, ringing the bells to summon the loggers from their homes. He imagined cave dwellers climbing out of sinkholes in the forest, responding to the alarms. But his rational mind reminded him the bells rang on the hour. It was ten o’clock.

  The shifters running on foot were probably still miles down the road.

  That left a short window to escape.

  At the marina docks, Kyle helped Jessica board the seaplane. He checked the engine and everything seemed intact. When all the instrument lights came on, he released a sigh of relief. The townspeople must have been confident that no survivors would make it this far.

  His father remained on the dock, gripping his flamethrower. Shawna stood with him, her head on his shoulder. They both watched the road that led up to the Beowulf Lodge and Tavern. In town, all was still quiet.

  “We’re leaving in one minute,” Kyle told them. “Shawna…”

  Elkheart kissed her forehead and then told her to get on the plane.

  Kyle helped his trembling sister into her seat and touched her face. “You’re gonna be okay. You’re safe now.”

  “I won’t feel safe ’til we’re back in Seattle.” She looked out the window, resting her hands on her stomach.

  As Kyle headed back outside, Jessica grabbed his hand and pulled him to her. She kissed him and pressed her forehead against his chest. Since rescuing her in the cave, they’d barely had a moment together.

  “Still want to go to Paris with me?” He offered a smile.

  She laughed through tears. “I’ll go anywhere with you.”

  “Buckle up then. First, I’m taking you home.” Kyle stepped out of the plane and began untying the ropes from the dock. “Dad, let’s go.”

  “Just a minute.” His father opened the back of his Bronco and pulled out a black duffle bag. “This has all my research. Every video we shot.” He held it out to Kyle. “Deliver this bag to my department at the University of Vancouver.”

  “Deliver it yourself.”

  “Don’t argue with me, son. Here…” He pushed the bag into Kyle’s chest. “They’ll know what to do with it.”

  “Stop talking crazy.”

  “My mission’s not done here.”

  “Dad, come on.”

  “Get those girls out of here.” His father turned and walked toward his truck.

  Kyle felt a mix of anger and grief. “This is suicide. Get back here.”

  “Stop wasting time. This town won’t be empty for long.”

  Kyle followed him.

  “Son, just—”

  For the first time in his life, Kyle hugged his father. “Don’t do this.”

  Elkheart stiffened and patted his back. “I’m not changing my mind. Now, get that bird up in the air.” He pushed Kyle away. “Go on.”

  “You always were a stubborn son of a bitch.” Kyle walked to the end of the pier. He tossed the duffel bag onto a seat, then pushed the Otter seaplane away from the dock and leaped onto the pontoon.

  “One more thing, son…”

  Kyle looked back at his father, who was now sitting behind the wheel of the Bronco. “You hang on to Jessica. She’s a keeper.”

  * * *

  Elkheart whistled as he drove down Main Street, pouring out a can of gasoline onto the road. He ignited Molotov cocktails and hurled them through windows. At the center of town, he went inside the old white church. The bells had stopped clanging and it was quiet now. He lit the kerosene rag soaked in his last Stoli vodka bottle. “This is for Amy and Wynona.” He threw it at the wood statue of the Lord Father. The woven sticks caught fire. The head with the wreath of antlers torched and caved in on itself.

  As Elkheart walked down the aisle towards the exit, he swept the nave with a dragon’s breath of flames. The pews burned. The pine walls rippled with undulating waves of orange as wildfire spread toward the steeple.

  Then he stepped out onto the front porch and crossed the lawn. The cool summer night had gotten warmer as he felt the heat from the surrounding buildings. Hearing complaints from his sore back and ribs, he took a seat on the curb beside his Bronco. He felt dog-tired. He was getting too old for this life. Elkheart stuck the tip of a Cuban against a flame from his barrel. Then he puffed the cigar and waited. “It won’t be long now.”

  The main street reeked of gasoline fumes. In the distance sirens wailed. As the headlights from a convoy of police cars and pickup trucks entered town, Elkheart stood and raised his flamethrower. He waited until the lead vehicle, driven by Inspector Zano, got close enough. Then Elkheart shot out a burst of fire to the gas-soaked road. An orange-blue flame snaked toward the oncoming vehicles.

  * * *

  Kyle flew the seaplane over the lake. Down below, several burning buildings lit up the town of Hagen’s Cove. A chain of fire engulfed the convoy of trucks, one after the other, causing them to crash into buildings.

  Kyle shook his head. “Crazy son of a bitch.”

  On the country road, the headlight beams of a dozen more cars and trucks barreled between the pines. Kyle didn’t know who had better odds, but he had faith that his father wasn’t fighting this war alone. If demons could exist on earth, then so could angels. Kyle had experienced that miracle firsthand. He l
ooked across at Jessica, sitting in the copilot’s seat. She put a comforting hand on his leg and gave him a look that was both saddened and full of hope. Kyle drew strength from this Aussie woman’s spirit.

  Below them, flames continued to spread across houses and trees. The Beowulf Lodge and Tavern caught fire. The church’s steeple collapsed in the blaze. Jon Elkheart was leaving his mark upon Hagen’s Cove.