Out There: A Rural Horror Story

by Cademon Bishop

  When Butch waddled into the house for the 6th time, she tapped Denver's side, “We need to head out.”

  “What, Lara, can’t we just stay for a bit. We’re just havin’ fun?”

  “Denver, we need to leave, I’m just getting-” Lara zipped her lips as Butch lumbered through the back door.

  “Denver, you’re fixin’ to be a sure shot!” Butch called, he carried out three bottles, one was half empty in his overalls pocket. The liquid and his speech swayed with his steps.

  “Hey, butch, I think this is gonna be our last round!” Lara held out a hand, palm facing the sky. “You think it’s fixin’ to rain soon?”

  “Well…” Butch looked at the sky. Gray clouds brewed to their left, resembling floating gray mountains as they shaded the forest. Lara could see that invisible frown on Butch’s face. He had that blank flat lipped expression, but deep down she knew that was only a cover-up—a door covering a brown bottled problem. “The sky’s still clear from here. Lara, couldn’t ya stay a bit longer, I, I can make dinner, really I-”

  “I probably should get back to my dad.”

  “Well, that’s good!”

  Lara’s eyes shot through his quaint expression. Well, is it good?

  “Ya pa can come for dinner, can’t he?”

  Lara paused, looked at Denver, then gave a shrug, “I still need to talk to him. Can I see ya tomorrow?”

  “Tomorrow’s fine…” Butch lulled back inside, taking a swig from the bottle in his pocket as he opened the screen door.

  Tomorrow, Lara thought, if there is a tomorrow. She was halfway back to Denver’s house and, sure enough, the rain began to pit-pat on the windshield. Michael said we ain’t got less than a week left that means… no. Lara ignored this remark every time she thought back to it. Yet the words still lingered in the back of her head.

  “What were ya so afraid about?” Denver asked. The rain’s pulse increased.

  “Did you see all those bottles he brought out?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Well, where did they all come from?”

  “His house?”

  “Ya need to drink a bottle to empty it,” Lara waved her hand with her words as if she were teaching first-grade math.

  “Maybe he could be savin’ em for something. It didn’t make me afraid of him.”

  “I ain’t afraid. I’m just worried, ya know. It all spooked me. I’m just… scared for him. His wife died a couple of years ago, and I’m sure being hung up in that house has got him rotin’ about it…” They didn’t say much after that. Denver bobbed his finger to the drumbeat of “Have You Seen Her” on the radio. The sky darkened as the rain poured over the land. The lush green fields began to gray. Lara forgot something, she…

  The gun… what gun… it was your gun… we were driving. From where? Her mind felt like it was changing channels on a radio—static occasionally surrounded her vision.

  — — —

  “Hey, you alight?” She heard Denver as a muffled echo. What am I searching for? It felt as though a memory was stolen. The only problem was, what memory?

  A house… what house… it was his house… whose? Her hands jerked as she snapped her attention to the rain-soaked road. Whose god damn house where you at just ten minutes ago? It felt as though a chunk of her memory shattered, causing her brain to snap through dozens of states to pick back all the pieces. The puzzle came together.

  Butch!

  “Yeah, I just remembered I left my gun again at Butch’s house.” Butch, the word felt distant, almost… nonexistent. How can a name feel so alien yet so close?

  “Who’s house?”

  “Butch’s house? The old man I’ve been talkin’ to.”

  Denver turned to her, “You never told me about Butch. The hell kinda names is that?”

  “We were just there!?” Lara’s voice rose. She thought of her talk with Dian, the way she lashed out. The comforting scent of the car filled her nose as she inhaled. “You remember Butch?”

  “I gonna be completely honest, I don’t remember going to anyone’s house at all today… Lara, are you alright?”

  “I… I just need to turn back for a second.”

  A wave of relief came over her the second she saw Butch’s truck as she pulled into the driveway. The relief, however, was short-lived. She saw rust coating every inch of its frame, and each tire slumped on the ground.

  The back door was falling off its henge’s, and the living room window was coated in an undefinable haze. The floorboards moaned as Lara crept into what was once butches house. The place looked like it had been deserted for years. All the furniture was there, but it felt wrong. Dust coated everything. Cobwebs clumped and collected around the legs of the living room coffee table. A mold-soaked smell evaded her senses. Lara tried turning on a light, the switch creaked as she flicked it back and worth on its rusty hinge. The old pistol was lying on the dining room table, right where she first saw it as if the entire day had been a dream.

  “Butch!?” Lara called. Her trembling words echoed into the house. She took in the rain’s hypnotic reverberation and the wave like whir of wind. Lara froze, hoping that somewhere within the noise, she could hear the muffled call of Butch. The front door opened. Lara jumped, almost dropping the gun.

  “Lara, where are you?” Denver said, coughing. She could hear his quick breaths cut through the rain.

  “Right in front of ya,” she said. “You alright?”

  “Yup… somethin’,” he drew in a large breath. “Somethin’ freaked me out back there.”

  Lara wanted to say, ‘Oh, so now you’re scared?’ but knew he probably wouldn’t remember their conversation, “What’s out there?”

  Denver caught his breath, “I don’t know, it was a person or somethin’, just walkin’ towards the truck.”

  “Lock the door,” Lara said as she walked towards the main hall that led to Butch’s bedroom. She stepped back, too afraid to go in the black depths of the hall. Her fear became concrete as she exclaimed the photos that faded into the pitch black of the hallway. Each photo was empty yet horrifying. It was the emptiness that erupted fear, both Butch and his wife were washed away from each photo.

  How did he die? Where…? She fumbled though the dark and into the bathroom. She curled onto her knees and cried. Her back pressed into the cold bathtub.

  “Lara! Somethin’s out there!” Denver shouted.

  Lara’s sob took a frightened tone. Her hands shook along the top of her knees. She gripped the backside of her legs and felt pain. She raised her hands and watched her palms dance with miniature sparks. No, no, no, not right now I need to be here, not right now.

  “Lara!” Denver screamed.

  Blue sparks shot from Lara's palms. The entire room shifted. Lights on, lights off; blue tile, yellow tile; wooden seat, carpet seat; shower, bath; red paint, white paint; day, night. The entire room flick details like film grain—a set of pills on the counter and the shower condiments coming and going like a frantic house guest.

  Lara tried to stand but was glued to the ground. She felt as though she didn’t belong in every version of the room, as if her mind were searching for some natural space to place herself.

  She was here to surf along with the timeliness of existence. Her fingertips felt a searing burn, as if they were being dipped into boiling water. Her palms felt at though something burning deep within her.

  The bathroom door vibrated between open and close. For a second, she swore the entire roof was gone, reviling a vast night sky. She stopped. It all stopped. She pried herself off the ground, leaning her elbows as support on the bathtub rim. The bathroom felt warm, desolate, and wrong. She had an unnatural sense to belong, and yet, no longer belong. A note written on a yellow legal pad was taped to the bathroom mirror. Lara slid it off the mirror. It was impossible to read in this light. She flicked the light switch, and to her surprise, it came on.

  Lara,

  If you found this, it means I somehow failed. Not sure how I did it,
but you never know. I’ve messed up on most things. If you find this, you can take the gun and that damn wooden box off the refrigerator. It has a key to this place down under my gas station. There’s a little machine down there that I was cursed to use.

  I don’t know why I’m writing this. I’ve written so many letters like this. I mostly do them as some last resort, to get my mind off things, but this one, it feels different, feels more sure.

  I’m alone, so god damn alone. I’ve tried for years to ignore it, but that just makes it worse. Seeing you felt like I had some long-lost granddaughter. It made me know what it’s like to have someone close to me.

  Ever since my wife died, I’ve never been able to let go. I latch on to just about anything I can to fill the hole she left. Drinking worked, then you came in. I can’t place that burden on you. It’s only going to get worse, so I won’t let it. I’m taking this heavy storm we got here as my chance. I’m planning on walking out into the woods as soon as I get done writing this. I hope the rain will take me peacefully. I need you to forget about me, so this is the best thing I can do. I’m so sorry if you find this. I’m sorry I failed. I pray that you find your way through your burdens.

  Thanks.

  Lara’s tears fell onto the paper, fading the ink. She folded the letter and tucked it into her pocket. Her body shook as she gripped the bathroom sink. Lara screamed. Her breath shivered within her as she wept.

  Lara teeth chattered as she turned the door knob. Butch stood in the pictures that lined the wall. Looking at them made her cry again. They were all of him, and him alone. A portrait only silence could capture. Lara could feel her heart thump as she lurked through the house. Denver was nowhere to be seen. She assumed he was somewhere undefinably far.

  Rain fought against the window. Lara saw the old Smith and Wesson lying on the kitchen counter. She picked it up and slid it into her pocket. She hadn’t held the pistol’s wooden grip since she took the gun from the Beaumont lodge. It felt nostalgic against her hip.

  A wave of confusion came over her. In her right pocket was the Beaumont pistol, and on the kitchen table was the exact same gun. Her hand paused over the one on the table. She thought about taking two but couldn't comprehend what would happen if she had two of the exact objects touch her from two different timelines. She grabbed the boxes of bullets, then tapped the duplicate pistols barrel as if it were boiling hot. It was ice cold.

  She sat the gun in one of the pistol boxes and slid the small box off the refrigerator. She needed to go back to Denver. But how? She tried to think about what her father said about controlling his power. This was no place for peace. Rain roared on all sides. Her hands pulsed with the pain from her last big jump. Peace, peace, peace… how the hell do I find peace? She crept back into the bathroom and sat on the cold tile floor.

  How do I think about peace? Hell, how can I have any rest in a time like this… It was your fault… you could have saved Butch. Lara, you have no control over his actions, you can’t carry that weight.

  She closed her eyes and thought about her mind earlier, the way her head and arms felt the sparks shoot off from her hand, and her breath. She saw the air traverse her lungs and imagined it moving towards her hands. She watched it all wax and wane like newborn suns.

  Her hands lit with sparks. Keeping her eyes closed, she let the electric blur continue to shoot pain up her arm. Yellow and white light danced across her closed lids as she flicked from room to room. She considered opening her eyes but squeezed them shut, knowing she would lose control if she saw what was happening around her. Darkness flicked on and off like a poor TV connection. Then there was a still dark. The air stopped pulling on her. For a moment, she was worried she had gone too far and was lost in a void. Then it called out to her.

  “Lara, is that you?” Denver whispered. Lara opened her eyes then looked down at her lap to make sure the bullets hadn’t flown off with the whim of time. She could see his outline in the dim light falling from the cramped window along the backside of the bathroom. Lara leaned forward to hug Denver, grasping at the air like a blind child. She found his shoulder, then pulled him in. The chatter of her teeth were small pool ball clanks. “Lara, what happened?”

  She didn’t respond, only held him tighter. Bullets rained out of the box and onto the floor as she kissed him.

  “Shit,” He whispered as he held the boxes back. The metal shells glinted a faint white as it reflected the window.

  Lara swept the bullets from the floor, “What?! What is it?”

  “There’s somethin’ out there… also, where were you?”

  “I did that thing where my hands get all static electric, and I zip somewhere,” No matter how real it was, it would never cease feeling stupid spilling out of her mouth.

  “Alright,” Denver froze. “Warn me next time before you uh, ya know.”

  “Butch is dead… we can go.”

  Denver paused, then hugged her, “Lara, I don't think we can leave.”

  “How do you know it wasn’t a dear or somethin’?”

  “It had those eyes!” Denver’s voice almost rose out of a whisper.

  Lara handed Denver the duplicate pistol, “Let’s do some huntin’ then.” The two of them crept from the bathroom door. The rain blanketed the bleak window light.

  Lighting flashed, allowing them to see the living room in great detail for only a fraction of a second. The house’s foundations quivered. Lara locked the front door; Denver bolted the back connected to the driveway.

  She took watch at the kitchen’s bay window, dying plants slumbered in the pots along the windowsill. A line of harsh white lighting struck the forest a half a mile away from the house. Then another gong of thunder. Lara looked at the forest and realized that she had a full view of the Elk Horn Woods. The same setting she saw in her dream

  Lightning struck the forest. Lara turned towards Denver. “Do you see any lightning around you?” She found Denver kneeling on the couch with his pistol on the windowsill as if it were a sniper rifle.

  “No… why?”

  “I can see each strike. They’re all hittin’ at the Elk Horn Woods… it’s kinda hurtin’ my eyes.” A snapshot of light flicked in front of her. CRASH. Lara moved back to her post and watched another bolt stream towards the forest. A thick scrawl of light shook the trees. “Uh, Denver, the forest is on-” A wail of thunder cut her short and sent her ears ringing. Between the trees was a flickering orange glow. “-on fire!” Lara finished.

  “On what?” Denver got up from his post. A glint of red flickered between black bars of trees. “Shit, maybe the rain would clear it out.” Three strikes of lighting clung around the amber flicker, followed by an exploding drum roll, “Jesus! Does it got some vengeance against the woods?” The two watched in horrific wonder as lighting danced every 10 seconds in the forests.

  Denver to bolted towards the front door. In the silence between two touches of lighting, they could hear a shuffling along the front porch. Lara grabbed six bullets from the box on the table and trailed behind him. They saw nothing out the front porch window. Another crash of lighting made a pale blue cast on the front lawn. “See anything?” Denver whispered.

  “No, I-”

  Knock… Knock… Knock… Lara and Denver’s gazes shot towards the front door. A flash of lighting gave them a perfect view of a body. Its glowing eyes remained lit as the light flickered away.

  Side D Track 11

  The Man Comes Around

  Stars spun around Jude and Michael. The edges of the brass elevator creaked and shook like an old bed. Michael could see every angle of the skyscraper as the elevator spiraled around the building. He tried to speak, but the force of the spin pinned the corners of his mouth and pressed him against the cushioned back wall. Stars made blurred white lines around them, swimming like a school of fish, swarming the metallic casket. Michael felt himself peel from the back of the machine as it lulled towards a silver disk at the bottom of the building.

  “Had fun?” Jude a
sked as he made two jovial bounds out the elevator, dress shoes clanking on the reflective ground.

  Michael steadied his legs, “Whose idea was it to put that there?”

  “An author a hundred something years ago. We thought it impractical, but it stuck.” The building had the structure of a modern New York skyscraper, yet neon pink and blue lights coated the edges of the building. An old computer monitor orbited past them as Jude opened the front door. Michael paused before entering and looked towards the top of the skyscraper. He expected to see a mesh of pipe and wires from the under workings of buildings but all he saw underneath the city was pitch black space. White sparkles of light wandered across the crow black void. A few office supplies floated nearby the entrance.

  They stepped through a glass front door and into a pale blue painted room, with black leather upholstery. A pair of elevator doors stood straight ahead of them. A human-shaped creature with a mushroom head and pearl black eyes wrote on something as he sat. Its long work-like fingers wrapped around the pen. Jude shook a peace sign at the mushroom, the being grinned, and went back to work.

  As Jude pressed the elevator door button, Michael imagined it opening up an overcomplicated Rube Goldberg machine that some insane person scrawled into existence. The steel doors opened.

  He crept into the silver and white chamber, “Is this-”

  “A regular elevator?” Jude finished, irritated. He typed a floor into a keypad. “I know, it’s probably the most hellish thing we have here, aside from a door that’ll say Satan if you read it right.”

  The elevator doors closed. Michael felt the floor rumble beneath him as it rose, “What’s this building for?” Michael still was in disbelief that this would be a normal elevator, praying it wouldn’t unfold like a cake box.