Four Corners Dark: Horror Stories (8 page)

After the last stone was thrown, they stood in the rain and assessed the damage. The bloody corpse of the woman remained seated with her fingernails stuck into the arms of the wooden chair. Her body was pried free, wrapped in a tarp and draped over the back of a mule. The men gathered up the stones as the rain pounded the muddy soil around them. The tribes had insisted that every stone was to be recovered and removed from Indian land. Lightning flashed across the black sky as they mounted their horses and rode off the mountain.

The men, exhausted and relieved to be down from the mountain, rode back into town.

“Where we headin Eddy?” Calvin asked Edmund.

“Them Indians didn’t say nothing about what to do with the body and stones, other than to git it off their land. I know a little field with soft dirt where we can bury this hag,” Edmund answered.

They rode into Silverton, eleven men, twelve horses and three mules made up their makeshift procession. Townspeople peered out from shop windows as they passed. They didn’t expect a celebration having cleaned up the Indians’ problem not Silverton’s.

The men dismounted and unloaded shovels in a vacant field near the town’s cemetery. Two of the men began digging and created a shallow grave. Edmund unrolled the tarp letting the body tumble into the grave. The blackened eyes of the corpse were open and staring.

The first shovel of dirt went over her eyes.

“Enough to give you the creeps,” said one of the men as he piled dirt into the grave.

“Quit your talking and fill that hole,” Edmund yelled at the man.

After the men finished filling the hole and tamping down the burial mound, Edmund instructed them to dump the sacks of stones onto the grave. The men untied the heavy burlap sacks and dumped the stones evenly across the grave. Edmund approached the grave, unbuttoned his trousers, and relieved himself.

“Remind me not to invite you to my funeral,” one of the men yelled out which elicited nervous laughter from the men.

“All of the eleven men involved,” Joseph said, “were dead within a month of the burial.”

“How did they die?” Abby asked.

“Accidents and arguments mainly. I understand two men died in a gunfight over money, a few others were killed in a mine explosion. No one knows for sure what really happened to the rest of them. After that, the town fell on hard times and people headed south and gave up on the town altogether. According to tribal lore the Raven Mocker will only hunt on tribal lands, but these people scared easily and blamed the town’s misfortune on the stoning. They believed that the worst was yet to come. In time, people did come back and the town began to prosper again but you will find that even today, few people stay after dark.”

Joseph hit the brakes of the ATV and brought the vehicle to a stop, a burning tree lay across the path fifty yards ahead.

“Hold on,” Joseph shouted as he spun the vehicle down an incline and into the depths of the forest. He stopped and hung a medallion, similar to the one Abby had found, from the roll bar of the machine.

“This will provide a small bit of protection,” he said.

Abby held the swinging medallion as Joseph raced the ATV deeper into the forest.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

A
fter a few pained steps, Terry sat down and pulled off his boot. His ankle was swollen and flexing his foot caused a searing pain to radiate up his leg.

“Help,” he yelled. His calls went unheard, muted by the dense woods.

He fashioned a makeshift walking stick and managed to get on his feet. Lost, with neither sun nor stars to guide him, he limped along for several hours until he found a cabin. Warm light emanated from the windows and smoke rose from a stone chimney. A young Indian woman sat on the porch and stared silently at Terry.

“Hello,” he said hobbling towards the porch. “I’m sorry to trouble you. I’ve had an accident and need help.”

The young woman stood and silently gestured towards the open door of the cabin.

“Thank you. My name is Terry James. I live nearby.”

Terry limped past the woman and into the cabin. She gestured for him to sit at a small wooden table near a fireplace.

The young woman ladled a bowl of hot broth from a cast iron pot and placed it in front of him. He ate the warm broth, as the young woman gently picked sticks and leaves out of his hair. Suddenly his spoon turned cold and the broth putrefied in the bowl. He saw the hideous creature behind him in the oily reflection of the gruel.

He tried to get to his feet only to be slammed backwards in the wooden chair. The misshapen corpse of an old woman spiked its nails into his shirt and began to twist. He pulled a poker from the fire and plunged it into the creature’s neck. The cabin filled with the smell of burning flesh. The creature grabbed his injured foot and twisted it backwards, the bone snapped and shattered through the skin. It then swung him through a glass window, where he landed face down in the dirt.

He fought for breath as his windpipe began to close. Struggling to breathe, he crawled across the ground until he reached the edge of a lake. The creature glided towards him with the poker dangling from its neck. Desperate, Terry plunged into the frigid water of the lake and was suddenly able to breathe again. He followed the shoreline out of site of the creature and found his canoe caught in a bramble of waterlogged tree roots. The canoe was half filled with water but he managed to right the canoe and escape into the safety of the lake.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

J
oseph turned the ATV onto an abandoned dirt road, and drove to the shore of a lake.

“Abby, unfasten your seat belt,” Joseph said. “This thing floats pretty well, but you don’t want to be attached to it if something goes wrong. The water is deeper than you can imagine.”

Abby complied, undoing her seat belt, and grabbed on to the roll bar for good measure. She nodded for Joseph to proceed and he drove into the water creating a wake that shimmered away from the vehicle.

“Abby you will see some disturbing things out here,” Joseph said. “You must remain calm. I had hoped we would not need to cross these waters, but the woods will not allow us to pass.”

“What if the water will not allow us to pass?” Abby asked.

“The water is different, neutral ground, a conduit for travel where powers are diluted.”

Unseen things moved in the shadows as they drifted further into the lake. The vague outlines of submerged buildings hovered below them. Joseph turned the vehicle abruptly, avoiding a brick chimney jutting out of the water. A series of small islands came into view. On the first was a huddled mass of starving figures standing along the shoreline clutching tin pans. Elaborate tables filled with food lined the shore, but their sunken faces told Abby and Joseph the food was too late. Abby gasped and grabbed Joseph’s arm.

“Easy Abby,” he said. “We have a long way to go and it is best not to look.”

The shadow of the next island fell over them as they passed and Abby stared into clenched hands.

“Abby,” a mournful voice called out.

Her body stiffened.

“Ignore it,” Joseph said.

“Abby,” she heard again.

The voice coming from the island was sad and weak, but hauntingly familiar.

“Abby, help me,” it said again.

Abby listened in shock to the voice of her sister Addie.

Ignoring Joseph’s instructions, she looked at the island. Her sister stood in a white dress next to an overturned car. She recognized the dress; it was the one Addie was buried in.

“Stop,” Abby yelled at Joseph. “That’s my sister.”

“Ignore it,” Joseph replied staring straight ahead.

“We have to help her,” she shrieked.

“She is beyond help.”

Abby reached out and grabbed one of the control sticks causing the vehicle to pitch sideways. He pushed her back and steadied the craft.

“Abby,” he yelled.

“Stop,” she screamed.

Joseph brought the vehicle to a stop and it rolled from side to side in the water. The voice from the island continued to repeat its plea. Joseph reached into the back seat of the vehicle and pulled out a flashlight.

“Watch this,” he said as he aimed the light at the figure on the island.

The figure moved in a repeating pattern, first with hands over its head, then hands outstretched, then arms wrapped around its torso.

“See the way the movements repeat?” Joseph asked.

Abby was sobbing with her knees pulled to her chest and didn’t answer. Joseph continued sweeping the light across the figure whose pallid face was a black-and-white copy of Abby’s. Each sweep of the light passed through the figure and the overturned vehicle near it.

“It’s not real,” he said softly. “It’s not your sister.”

Joseph navigated the vehicle away from the island and deeper into the lake.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

D
onald dialed his phone and waited for an answer.

“Hello.”

“Brenda?” Donald asked.

“Yes, who is this please?”

“This is Donald Jensen, Terry’s friend.”

“Oh, Donald.” Brenda sounded relieved. “I am so glad you called, I didn’t have your number. Have you heard from Terry or Abby?”

“No,” Donald answered. “I have been trying for days and haven’t been able to reach them.”

“I am driving up from Louisiana,” she said. “I expect to get there late this evening.”

“I am flying in tomorrow morning,” Donald replied. “I should get up to Silverton by late afternoon. Should we contact someone else?”

“I don’t know anyone else to contact other than the police,” Brenda answered.

“I will call them right now,” Donald said. “I’ll let you know what I find out. Have a safe drive and don’t worry, I am sure they are fine.”

“Thanks Donald,” Brenda said hanging up the phone.

“Sheriff’s office,” the voice on the phone line twanged.

“Hello my name is Donald Jensen. I am a friend of Terry and Abby James. They live up in the lodge outside of Silverton.”

“I know who they are,” Rita Haeckel said. “How can I help you?”

“I am afraid I have not been able to reach them for a several days. I am visiting tomorrow and cannot get in contact with them,” Donald said. “I was wondering if you could send someone up to check on them.”

“Surely,” Rita answered. “If you want to try back in a couple of hours, we can let you know what we found out.”

“Okay, thank you,” Donald said.

“Bye,” Rita chirped, gum clicking between her teeth.

Rita walked to the back of the office and found Ima pouring a cup of coffee.

“Deputy Rogers, we just received a call about the folks up at the James Lodge. Someone’s looking for them and has not been able to reach them by phone.”

“I will head up there right now,” Ima responded.

Ima grabbed her jacket off the coat rack. On the wall next to it was a tarnished brass plate that read, safety is everyone’s most important duty. Ima walked out the front door and surveyed the sky, rain was coming. She stepped off the curb and was startled by a crow flying overhead, its dark shadow barely visible in the gray sky.

Ima approached her truck and dropped her keys. She bent down to pick them up, and when she rose the crow was on the roof of her truck. She shooed the bird away and climbed into her truck.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

T
erry heard the sounds of an engine and tried to sit up.

“Help, please help,” Terry called out.

A horn sounded and he called out again, pounding his fist against the hull of the boat. He fell back, stared into the dull sky and lost consciousness.

Joseph and Abby heard Terry’s cries. They were close to the shoreline and the compass in the vehicle spun wildly.

“Help.” They heard the voice again, it was distant and weak.

Joseph did not need the voice or the compass. He was tracking his own way and had picked up the trail a few minutes earlier. The trail was getting stronger and he was confidant it was Terry’s. Joseph adjusted course until they saw the shadow in the distance.

“Abby, I think we have found him,” Joseph said.

“Thank goodness.”

Joseph pulled alongside the canoe and grabbed the side of the craft. Terry lay in a pool of bloody water and the sight of his twisted leg made Joseph’s stomach turn. Abby stood up and yelled to him.

“Abby!” Joseph said. “I need you to stay still and help hold the canoe.”

“We need to get him out of there,” she screamed.

“We cannot,” Joseph answered. “If we try to move him we’ll swamp us both, we need to tow him to one of the islands.”

She complied as tears streamed down her face. Joseph tied the canoe to the back of the ATV and moved forward with the canoe in tow.

“Look,” Abby said pointing towards a dark figure on the lakeshore. “Maybe it is someone who can help us.”