by Aiden James
Dude’s scared to death of the place, man. Wouldn’t even come with me and Stevie to the park in broad daylight.
“I doubt that’s all it is,” said Polly, pushing her blond bangs away from her eyes. She gazed out into the ravine and then back at Jason and Stevie again. Her eyes looked afraid. Very afraid. “I’ve heard stuff about this place. Like the ghost of a girl in Cades Cove who sneaks up on lovers who stay in the park after dark. And then those people who mysteriously disappeared twelve years ago…. That did happen!”
She started to cry, which only made matters worse. Ed immediately came over and wrapped his arms around her.
Ah-h-h Christ! Better get this shit taken care of quick, before everybody wants to leave.
“All right, all right!” said Jason, moving to block Ed and Polly from stepping down from the ledge. Everyone else seemed poised to leave, with Stevie losing the battle of keeping Stefanie there. “Let’s just enjoy a nice meal, and afterward, if anyone wants to join me in having a look around, then that’s cool. Everyone else can enjoy some more beer and roasted marshmallows. How does that sound?”
Hopeful he wouldn’t be forced to immediately pack up everything, everyone but Stefanie agreed. Fearing she would bring a premature end to the night’s festivities, a pleasant surprise came when Stevie persisted in his attempts to get her to stay. It worked.
The promise of continued protection and comfort might’ve taken Stevie away from helping him hold this party together, but at least she wouldn’t leave…yet. As for everyone else, once they got some good food in their stomachs and a few more beers, the group became more boisterous. The atmosphere much more festive.
Dianne and Shikara pointed one of the flashlights out toward the deep darkness, focusing on the trees along either side of the ravine not obscured by the debris hill in the middle. Several trees covered with names, Dianne suggested to her beau that they should get a closer look.
Excellent! ‘Better seize the moment before she changes her mind….
“Let’s go do it!”
He took a beer with him and pulled her along with his arm around her waist.
They moved down into the ravine, Jason balancing her and the beer bottle while she held the flashlight to where they could see. Careful to avoid the sharp edges from what looked like veined white marble sticking out from the hill, they moved through tall grass and wildflower stems until they reached a row of mature oaks along one embankment. By Dianne’s count, just over thirty names covered the trees, some encircled by crude hearts. Names like Milton and Bertha made them both giggle, until the flashlight began to flicker and dim.
“Oh, shit, the batteries must be dying,” he observed, stating the obvious.
The beam continued to fade, but before it flickered out, he glimpsed something shining near the base of the hill to their left. The small object appeared round when he saw it, glistening red, less than twenty feet ahead of them.
“Did you see that?” he asked.
“See what?”
Apparently not. No matter, before she could stop him, he stepped over to it.
The flashlight died. Only the fire’s illumination behind them, forty to fifty feet away. Then movement in the darkness ahead…up above the ravine in the thick forest to their right. The sound of crunching footsteps—just like their own had been, stepping on dried pine needles, maple and oak leaves. Heading toward them.
“Jason, let’s get of here—please!”
“What’s going on down there?” T.J. calling. “Ya’ll okay??”
“I’ll be there in a moment!” Jason called back.
What’s this? Jesus!! It looks like a jewel…red ones are rubies, right? Holy shit—this is fucking amazing!!!
“You won’t believe what I just found out here!!” he yelled excitedly. “It’s got to be the coolest damned thing….”
Suddenly he heard it too. There really was someone moving atop the ravine near the edge of the woods. Crunching footsteps and the sound of something swishing, brushing against the leaves.
A dress?? Stop it, man… quit thinking about that goddamned story!
“We’re on our way down there, ya’ll!” Stevie calling this time.
Worried voices and several people on the way down behind him…that brought comfort. Strength in numbers. But the other noise still approached ahead…moving faster. And with it came a sigh.
A female? No fucking way!!
Dianne screamed behind him. It sounded like she tried to call his name, and then nothing. His legs felt heavy, but at least he could move, where just a moment ago they felt clamped to the ground beneath him.
“Dianne!!”
He ran back to her and called again. No answer.
“Where the hell are you??”
Still no reply.
“Jason, we’re coming, man!” J.T. again. “Almost there, man. Almost—ah shit… What the hell’s going on here?!”
Jason whirled around, in time to see the bottom of a blue gown descend into the ravine…maybe ten to twelve feet away. But, was that what J.T. screamed about from the other side of the hill??
Not sure…but you better get moving… NOW!!!
“Dianne? Where are you, baby??”
Moving as fast as possible back to the ledge, the fire now more visible. But the footsteps gaining on him….
I can hear her breaths…and gurgling? What the fuck’s happening??
He slipped on something wet, and when he steadied himself his hand touched warm moistness. He brought it up to where he could faintly see something dripping dark from his fingers onto his palm.
Blood? Oh God, please no!!
“Where’s J.T.??” Worried, the voice belonged to Shikara. At least that’s how it sounded to Jason. Suddenly another shriek, but not hers.
That chick, Stefanie? Must be, because it sounds like Stevie over there mumbling ‘Oh, my God—Oh, my God!!’
“What the hell is that thing??” screamed Shikara.
T.J.’s girl sounds closer…. Is she looking at the thing that’s breathing down my back? So fucking cold…and that gurgling noise…. Something just splashed up against my back!! Run-n-n-n!!!
It shamed him that he didn’t stop and turn to face whatever pursued him. He hated himself for that and for not searching for his beloved. Instead, he sprinted to the ledge.
Shikara let out a shrill shriek, and after he brushed by her, he heard her no more. The same report for Stefanie and Stevie. Like T.J. and the love of his life, Dianne, they were gone.
After he climbed back up the embankment, he looked behind him. Whatever pursued him had disappeared in the thick shadows. No footsteps, brushing, or the maddening gurgle sound. Gone? Who could say for sure?? But then he looked at his right hand under the glow from the firelight… Dianne’s blood covered it. Already congealing, it had dripped down past his wrist.
She’s really dead…how can this be?? They’re all gone!! All my friends—the people who matter most to me are all—
What about Polly and Ed?
Then he saw them. Somehow, they managed to get the keys from Stevie.
Does that mean his body is down there someplace? Did these motherfuckers kill Dianne and everyone else???
They looked at him, blank expressions on their faces. Ed started the jeep and then backed up, their emotionless expressions never changing. The Honda spun around and sped toward the meadow, and the road out of this hellish place. As the engine’s hum faded into the night, a noise similar to swarming hornets approached from behind the ravine. At the same time, he felt a vibration against his left hand. The one holding the circular jewel he found. It moved like a roach trying to crawl out from his grasp.
Surprised he opened his hand. The vibration stopped, but inside the ruby something moved. A clouded mist appeared, traveling from the back of the jewel to the front.
Well I’ll be damned. It looks like some sort of….
Jason gasped in surprise. An eye appeared within the mist, cold and reptilian. It studied him,
like a snake or crocodile sizing up its prey.
Then the eye blinked.
Ah-h-h Shit!! It’s too late to save anybody but yourself! Leave now like Ed and Polly or die. Leave here or….
He dropped the ruby and ran to the Honda parked just outside the hole in the fence. Fumbling for his keys, he only slowed down for a moment. But enough.
Before he opened the door to climb in, a pair of unseen powerful hands grabbed his ankles. The hands yanked him down to the ground and then dragged him all the way down into the ravine, his flesh tearing on the sharp rock edges of the ledge and the marble shards jutting out of the hill.
A muffled scream resounded from the ravine, just a mile outside the John Oliver homestead. And then silence…only the wind rustling dead leaves across the ravine.
Death for the unwary, another chapter added tonight to an old legend. The ravine’s unholy guardians lie in wait. Always ready for another opportunity to strike.
The End
Available now on Amazon Kindle:
THE FORGOTTEN EDEN
by
Aiden James
(read on for a sample)
PART I
The Murder of Dr. Mensch
“So...you’re sure that’s all, then?
The agent poured himself another round of coffee, carefully stirring in a measure of cream as if this simple act required complete concentration. Jack Kenney studied him from where he sat, absently drumming his fingers on top of a steel table in the middle of the interrogation room. Well-defined muscles tensed beneath the tight confines of his faded black T-shirt, he seemed poised and ready to launch himself out of his chair like a hungry lion. Even his strong brow and chiseled facial features made him look predatory, with hazel eyes aglow from acute agitation.
Yet, the exhaustion and weariness brought on by the endless stream of questions that began last night made him yearn painfully for sweet silence and the unlikely chance he might recoup some of the sleep he’d lost since his abduction from Tuscaloosa, Alabama.
“Like I’ve been telling ya’ll,” said Jack, tersely. “There’s nothing more to add to my statement.”
Agent Frank Reynolds grimaced in irritation. Jack figured the man didn’t take kindly to a smart mouth, definitely not one belonging to a twenty-year old college kid. The agent’s earlier speech about being in this line of work for nearly thirty years repeated tiredly in Jack’s head, along with the threat of what would become of him if he didn’t start cooperating soon. He could also tell the man’s patience and self-described ‘even-tempered nature’ had worn dangerously thin.
“I guess we’re all just supposed to believe that Dr. Mensch’s beating and subsequent death in the hospital were mere coincidences which, unfortunately, you’ve been linked to,” said Reynolds. “Is that what you expect us to believe, Mr. Kenney?”
He moved deliberately toward Jack, the cup of coffee in one hand while he motioned to his two companions, Agents Ben Casey and Steve Iverson with the other.
“You must think the three of us have shit for brains, son, and your arrogant attitude is really starting to piss me off!”
He stepped up to the table and leaned down into Jack’s face, who remained unfazed by the advancing giant of a man glaring at him. Instead, amused and fascinated by the elder agent’s behavior, Reynolds’ thick southern accent intrigued him, degenerating now into a slur. Even more, his flushed face burned with anger, in such contrast to his pale gray eyes and wavy white hair. Like a clean-cut Santa hittin’ the sauce. The man’s large stature of nearly six and a half feet would’ve intimidated most anyone. But Jack remained unaffected by the man’s invasion into his personal space.
He grinned wryly, studying the agent’s face to determine the true depth of malice. He then let his eyes wander to the I.D. badge dangling from the right lapel of his dark blue suit coat. A stoic picture from a few years earlier, the identifier ‘AS419’ etched in gold glistened brightly under the glare from the long fluorescent light above the table.
“What the hell do you find so amusing?” Reynolds hissed.
“Forgive me…sir,” Jack replied, unapologetic. “I’m just tired...tired enough to find everything a little amusing at this point.”
“Maybe I can convince you to take Frank’s words a bit more serious.”
Steve Iverson spoke. Svelte in build, and not near as tall as Reynolds, he grasped Jack’s shoulder and squeezed the tender area just below the collarbone, steadily increasing the pressure until the bone throbbed.
Jack’s reflexes forced him to look down onto the steel table, where the distorted reflection of his painful grimace greeted him. The tangled mess of his thick auburn hair further obscured his rugged handsomeness, except for his hazel eyes. Narrow slits of anger growing brighter by the second.
Iverson increased the pressure on Jack’s collarbone, forcing him to clinch his teeth to keep from screaming. The torture continued until Jack fell out of his chair. It landed loudly on its side, and he squirmed on the cement floor with Iverson’s hand still attached to his shoulder’s sensitive pressure point.
“Had enough, asshole?”
The agent brought his face down low enough to peer into his victim’s eyes, snickering in contempt. A nervous tic quivered excitedly along his lower lip, and he seemed to draw immense pleasure from Jack’s expression, whose immediate fantasy was to turn over and shove his knee hard into Iverson’s groin. But he couldn’t free himself.
“You know, right now may be as good a time as any to rearrange this pretty boy’s face. How about it, Frank?”
The agent suddenly jerked Jack’s head back by the hair. Peering into his face, Iverson’s smirk remained, though slightly broadened by his apparent amusement. But the coldness of his steel-blue eyes glowed even more malleable, revealing the cold-hearted killer within. Jack could tell the man might ‘eliminate’ someone with no more remorse than he’d have for smashing a stink beetle.
In a way, he reminded Jack of a ‘down home’ country singer his grandfather, Marshall Edwards, liked to listen to. His sandy brown hair brushed back to where he resembled Merl Haggard, for a moment Jack pictured the tune “I’m Just An Old Jukebox Junkie” coming out of Iverson’s mouth. The image struck him as particularly funny and almost made him laugh. A slight snicker escaped from his mouth anyway. It took just an instant for the agent to react.
“You think this is funny, you sorry sack of shit??” he screamed into Jack’s ear as he yanked him to his feet by the hair. “Suppose I show you something real funny—like your dick sticking out of your ass, you stupid fuck!!”
Jack winced in pain, and started to take a swing at him. Before he could deliver even a slight blow, Iverson pushed him into the waiting arms of Ben Casey, who shoved his arms high behind his back. The ligaments in his joints stretched to the point of tearing.
“I’m all for giving this punk a workout.”
Short and somewhat portly, but the most menacing of the trio, Casey’s husky voice reverberated deep from behind Jack.
“He’s begging for it.”
Held fast, Jack warily watched the other two men step up to him.
Oh shit…
A nauseating blend of tobacco, sweat, and a mixture of colognes filled his nostrils—one cheap, and the other a strong musk scent. He swallowed hard, for he knew if he vomited on any of these guys, they might not let him live long enough to apologize.
The door to the room suddenly swung open, the hinges whining loudly from the door’s steel-insulated weight. Another agent stepped into the room carrying a long, black attaché case in one hand, and a small blue duffel bag in the other. Reynolds and Iverson backed away from Jack, while Casey released his arms.
“Well, good afternoon, Peter,” said Reynolds. “Or, should I say ‘evening’, since it’s nearing the dinner hour.”
He moved over to him and extended his hand in welcome. The man set the attaché case and duffel bag down on the floor.
“It’s good to see you, Frank,”
he said, responding with a hearty handshake. “‘Sorry I’m late. Traffic was worse than usual tonight. Am I interrupting anything?”
“No...not really,” he said, shooting a mean glance toward Jack that clearly implied ‘you’ll keep your damn mouth shut if you know what’s good for you’. “He’s all yours, now.”
The newcomer also turned his attention to Jack, eyeing him as if a rare animal on display. Jack glared in response, forcing this man named Peter to return his attention to Iverson instead.
“I don’t believe we’ve met,” he said, extending his hand for Iverson to shake.
“Pete, this is Steve Iverson, and Ben Casey from the New York office,” said Reynolds.
“Peter McNamee...I’m pleased to meet you both.” He shook hands with Casey.
“Pete’s dad and I go way back,” said Reynolds, glancing coolly toward Jack once more. “We used to work together for the bureau down in New Orleans.”
“Dad still speaks fondly of those times …. We’ll need to catch up some when our work here is through.” Peter McNamee shifted his gaze back to the haggard young man standing nearby. Again, Jack met his gaze head on. An awkward moment, and then Peter resumed his conversation with Reynolds. “I’m sure he’ll be interested to know what you’ve been up to.”
“Just working, son. Same as always....”
More awkwardness permeated the air.
“Well, I guess I’ll get started.” Agent McNamee picked up his attaché case and duffel bag from the floor. He moved over to the table and sat both items on top of it.
The other agents looked on, and for the moment seemed unsure of what to do next. Jack felt better about his own situation, as it appeared McNamee intimidated them. At least fifteen years younger than the others, Jack could tell he was just slightly older than himself.
“I’d like to interview Mr. Kenney in private,” said Peter. “As you’ll be able to follow along just fine from outside the room, I hope you won’t mind my request. It’s easier for me to remain focused.”
