4.

THEN

January 2012

In the farmhouse that used to own the acreage that had long since been turned into a drilling operation, Ted Gillespie’s eyes snapped open. The same Ted Gillespie who had once fornicated with Sara Banks like a wild rabbit. The same Ted Gillespie who erected the sign saying SAY NO TO WIND FARM! The same Ted Gillespie who then agreed to sell off the majority of the family’s land to the government for a lump sum. The same Ted Gillespie who had devoured a hearty meal with his dad, Keith. Then for next few days complained of stomach pains that threatened to rip him open from the inside out. He’d writhed about in his bed, clutching himself. He’d sweated pints just lying immobile.

He could hear Keith across the hallway, in his bedroom, groaning too. Ted believed it to be a stomach bug. Keith had been to the toilet. Once he’d moved his bowels, he said he’d felt much better. Ted did the same. However, the pain still lingered long afterwards.

But he couldn’t remember any of that right now. His mind was blank. He stared drearily up at the ceiling, lethargic. Then with a lot of exertion, Ted’s fingers began to move involuntarily at first. Twitching. Tingling. Like they’d never been used before. His feet then the rest of his legs followed while he merely lay there, flat on his back.

Using his hands as levers, Ted lifted himself off the soaked mattress and sat upright. In front of him he saw a wall decorated with posters of Metallica and Thin Lizzy. However, in his current alien condition they weren’t at all registering in his brain. To the right of the wall was a door, closed shut.

Rising, Ted swayed precariously, managing to right himself before falling over. Then he stumbled forwards, one methodical step after another until he reached the closed bedroom door. His clammy palm slipped off the brass knob just as he pulled the oak door open and bashed himself on the forehead. The impact was unforgiving. Yet Ted didn’t even flinch. Instead he reached out and pulled the door open, shuffling to one side. The first floor beckoned him. He corned the banister, lost his footing and crumpled to the top step in a heap.

A muffled groan escaped him.

Then as though nothing out of the ordinary had occurred, Ted gripped the banister and fumbled down the steps. He miraculously made it to the ground without falling. His muscles felt like they were filled with lead. Yet the more he moved, the lighter they became. Blood was flowing through his veins and arteries after being unconscious for so long.

Ted pivoted and stumbled down the short hallway, not knowing where he was going. Everything felt so strange. He felt strange. He halted suddenly. In front of him, standing in the exact same place he was by himself was a monster. The monster’s face was pallid and emaciated to the point where it appeared more skeletal than that of a living human. Dry blood ran from the mouth in scarlet rivulets all the way down his neck.

As he stumbled forward, Ted could see the bloodshot eyes that belonged to a monster but also looked familiar too. They were the eyes of monster taking the form of a human. The hair was tousled and sodden with sweat, sticking up here and there. What he was seeing was his reflection in the square-shaped mirror that was covered in a film of dust.

Ted’s mouth stretched open like a cavern, but no scream emitted from him.

He hurried forward, struggling to lift his leaden limbs and smashed the mirror into a hundred jagged pieces, destroying the image of the monster that was now his face.

***

Greg Zane sat in his armchair next to the picture window. For him life had drained out of him like an enlarging wound, gushing blood. The scenic view he’d once had of an endless green-yellow meadow where corn, blueberries and the Gillespie’s’ livestock had now been replaced by a hydraulic fracturing drilling operation. And yet no one but the Gillespie’s seemed to notice was not long after they’d begun their operation that was going to save the world with its new renewable energy sources was how all the livestock had started suffering. It had happened sporadically at first. Then the deaths of young cows dropping dead, and chickens and cows and pigs being born with only two or three limbs became horrifyingly palpable. You couldn’t not take notice.

He didn’t know if he was being paranoid. However, his intuition insisted something was not right with Rhos Meadow.

The cold wet conditions didn’t do his mood any favours, either. The dark, battleship-grey clouds hung ominously overhead, drifting so slowly that by the time they had passed more thunderclouds replaced them. It had already been raining for three hours straight this morning. The only plus Greg got from this was he didn’t have to water the plants.

The night before he and Bobbie had gone to the Hope & Anchor. The pub had been deserted, save one of two early evening drinkers sitting at the bar talking. It was January 2 and most of the locals and out-of-towners were probably still hung over and broke to go to the pub.

Darkness had wrapped up the last of the daylight in what seemed like minutes. The interior was brightly lit and Greg had seen Bobbie sitting on a leather seat in the corner of the pub sipping his pint and eating a packet of crisps. He glanced over his shoulder and raised his hand in greeting. Greg reciprocated, ordered his drink and headed over to his friend.

‘All right?’

‘How’re you doing, Greg?

‘Aye, not too bad. Be a bit better when all this Christmas and New Year bollocks is behind us mind.’ He put his drink down on a coaster.

‘Thanks for coming out to see me,’ Bobbie said, sounding anxious.

‘Aye, no problem. What did you want to see me about?’

Bobbie crunched another crisp. Then he offered Greg one. Greg declined. ‘It’s probably nothin’, but ‘member I mentioned how I hadn’t seen Tony the last few days over the holidays?’

‘Aye.’

‘Well, Amy was at the convenience store this morning. She looked like shit. And I don’t mean that in a nasty way. But she looked all haggard and depressed. I wandered over to her and made pleasantries. She put on an act. Said the celebrating and late nights had just caught up to her. But when I mentioned that I hadn’t seen Tony and asked how she was, she went bright red and started getting all worked up.’

Greg hadn’t touched his drink. Instead he listened intently, frowning.

‘I said I’d give him a call and she snapped, “Don’t do that!” Practically bit my head off. She quickly apologised, then said he wasn’t feeling too well. I suppose you could say I was being nosy. But then we’ve always been close and I was only asking out of concern.

‘Anyway, I went home about half past eleven on New Years Eve, as you know. Abigail said she wanted to go out onto the porch and watch the fireworks. I don’t know if you saw them from downtown?’

Greg shook his head. ‘No, mate. Everything after ten is a blank. I was pissed as a fart.’

Bobbie didn’t even laugh. ‘Anyway, they lit up the sky magnificently. Why people go out and pay that sort of money for when they can watch others provide the entertainment beats me. But in the staccato illumination I’m sure I saw a figure on the land where the drilling operations are going on dressed in denim dungarees.’

‘A figure?’ Greg pulled a face, perplexed.

‘A figure,’ Bobbie said again. ‘A figure of the exact same size and the exact same shape wearing the same denim dungarees as Tony Little.’

‘What was he doing? Were they his fireworks?’

Bobbie shook his head. ‘That meadow is off limits. You’ve seen the wire-meshed fencing around the digging apparatus. But apart from the mere sight of him on Private Property was the fact that he was raising a pick axe overhead and bringing it down full-force into the ground. He was digging like a madman.’

‘Digging?’

Bobbie rolled his eyes in frustration.

‘Sorry,’ Greg said. ‘I don’t mean to sound like a parrot. I just don’t get what you’re getting’ at. Are you sure you weren’t steaming?’

‘Abigail was worse for wear I on the other hand only had three drinks all day. I don’t particularly like New Year. I know what I saw. And after my bizarre chat with Amy this morning, I decided to walk as far to the fencing as I could. And guess what I saw?’

Greg shrugged, clueless.

‘Holes. Where someone had been digging deep excavations.’

Silence.

‘What would he be digging for?’ Greg said, breaking the minute silence.

‘God knows. But he can’t be that bad if he’s out on a freezing cold night digging holes like he’s getting paid gold bars from the Fort Knox.’

Taking a gulp of his cold pint, Greg didn’t know what to make of what he’d been told.

‘What - if anything - do you intend to do about it?’ Greg asked.

***

The frosty night air rattled their bones and pebbled their flesh with goose bumps. They couldn’t stop shivering. Yet the longer they walked into the meadow past the cattle the warmer they became. Bobbie and Greg had beanies pulled down over their heads covering their ears and big duffel coats buttoned up to the jaw line, gloved hands stuffed deep into the pockets. The carbon dioxide they exhaled plumed in the air. Overhead the glittering of innumerable stars looked like the most spectacular jewellery set ever seen.

‘What’re we gonna do if he doesn’t show up?’ Greg said.

‘Freeze our balls off. Did you bring those night vision binoculars with you?’

‘Yeah. They’re under my coat attached to my belt. Be careful with them, they were expensive.

‘You said you bought them off EBay?’

‘I did. The fuckin’ post & packaging nearly cost as much as the binoculars.’

They headed to the fringe of the woods and stooped down.

Greg showed Bobbie how to focus in and out. Then he took out a Mars bar and bit into it.

‘Give us a piece,’ Bobbie said.

Greg snapped a bit off and handed it over. Then they waited. Greg thought the idea was ridiculous. Nevertheless, a bit of fresh air and walk would do him some good. He just hoped he didn’t get pneumonia.

They didn’t have to wait long. Approximately fifteen minutes later, Tony appeared to their left brushing through the cornfield and striding directly to the excavations he’d dug previously. Greg could scarcely believe what he was seeing. It was one thing to listen to an incredulous yarn about someone he’d known for years but to actually see it...

Tony’s hands were gripping the handle of a hefty pick axe and a spade.

Greg stared with protruding eyes at Tony drop the spade and began striking the earth with immense determination. The ground broke as Tony yanked back with the garden tool, ripping up a clump of earth. The Mars bar crushed in his hand as he watched and listened to the grunts and groans of his friend destroying the earth around him.

Twenty minutes passed and Tony had dug two holes. He hoisted the pick axe overhead and brought it down with Herculean strength and hit something hard.

Instantly, Tony dropped the garden tool and flicked the torch on. He pointed the beam of yellow light into the hole at something neither Greg nor Bobbie could see.

‘Yes!’ Tony shouted and punched the air in jubilation.

Greg tapped Bobbie on the arm. Bobbie started. He looked frightened. He regarded Greg for a few seconds then returned to spying through the night vision goggles. Greg watched as Tony bent down out of sight momentarily. Then he reappeared, leaning back, face contorted, illuminated by torchlight giving him a maniacal expression. Evidently, Tony was straining.

Greg thought he might be caught on a root or something. However, that though dispersed as Tony’s upper arms came into view.

Tony was holding onto something in a fierce grip, pulling with every amount of exertion he could muster. Eventually the soil crumbled and cascaded into the hole. What emerged from the excavation in Tony’s grasp would for ever haunt Greg and Bobbie’s dreams. The vivid depiction they would see whenever they closed their eyes at night and in their mind’s eye during the day was their friend, Tony Little, lifting a human arm out of the hole.

A gasp escaped Bobbie, who clapped a hand over his mouth.

Tony pivoted, staring into the pitch darkness of the woods.

Greg’s heart pounded like a pneumatic fist.

Tony could have only been squinting into the darkness for ten seconds. Yet it seemed like an hour before he returned to pulling the limb out, followed at last by a decomposing corpse.

Bobbie gagged. The night vision goggles offered a clear view of worms and slugs slithering through the cavernous eye sockets and other facial orifices. He glanced at Greg whose face was a mask of terror. The man next to him didn’t look at all like Greg Zane. This whole day had been abnormal from the moment he say Amy at the local convenience store and remembered a couple of days earlier seeing Tony momentarily lit in the spectacle of the fireworks digging fervently. He didn’t know what he expected to find out coming out here in the freezing cold. Tony had clearly lost his marbles. Yet this was even more serious than that. Tony was digging up a dead body.

What happened next caused Bobbie to shriek and drop the night vision binoculars.

The rotting corpse sat bolt upright, arched forward and took a ravenous bite out of Tony’s outstretched arm.

‘Jesus fuckin Christ!’ Greg exclaimed. Then shot to his feet and hurtled into the woods.

Bobbie didn’t wait to see what the outcome would be. He pivoted and darted into the woods, scarcely seeing the dark shape of Greg moving through the woods like a speeding train. He swatted overarching branches and twigs out of his way. Behind him he heard the high-pitched wailing of Tony. The harrowing noise sent an icicle through his drumbeat heart as he ran hell bent into the welcoming pitch dark.

***

On the far side of the woods, Bobbie Hopkins found his friend, Greg Zane lying facedown in the earth whimpering.

At first he thought Greg was hurt from the fall. But a closer inspection told him Greg had collapsed in a heap, exhausted. They were middle-aged men sprinting through the woods at night having endured the biggest shock of their lives. Bobbie lowered himself to one knee and rested a hand on Greg’s shuddering form.

‘You okay, man?’ As soon as he uttered the words he realised what an asinine question it was.

‘What the fuck was that?’ Greg cried, tears running down his quivering face.

Bobbie shook his head. ‘Dunno, man. Don’t think I wanna find out, either. Know what I mean?’

‘Where are my binoculars?’ Greg spat, seeing Bobbie didn’t have them.

‘Shit! Must’ve dropped them. I’ll buy you a new pair.’

‘Did Tony just fuckin’ die or what?’

Bobbie contemplated this question for a moment. ‘I think so... Sure sounded like it. You heard the screams?’

‘Oh, I heard the screams all right,’ Greg said. ‘I’ll be hearing those screams echoing in the valley of my eardrums from now till the day I die.’ He paused. ‘Thanks again for inviting me out here with you and losing my binoculars. Thanks a bunch!’

‘I’m sorry,’ Bobbie said.

Greg manoeuvred himself into a sitting position. ‘What’re we gonna do now?’

‘Police, I guess.’

‘And tell them what?’

Bobbie sighed wearily. ‘Tell them what we saw.’

‘Which is?’ Greg said, wiping his tears away.

‘Greg stop being such a cock will you. I just answered that question. It’s not my fault what just happened. I’m as shocked ‘bout it as you are.’

‘You tell the police that we saw our friend digging up a corpse which then came alive and took a bite out of his arm before killing him and they’ll lock us up in a nuthouse.’

Bobbie did a double-take. ‘What’re you talkin’ ‘bout? We just show them where it happened?’

‘And if the bodies aren’t there?’

Bobbie realised their predicament. However, he was positive that the bodies - or at least one of them - would still be there. Positive, but not definite.

‘Please tell me you’re not suggesting what I think you are?’ Bobbie pleaded.

‘I want my night vision goggles, man.’

‘I’ll buy you another pair!’ Bobbie snapped.

‘I don’t want another pair. I want my night vision binoculars. And I want them tonight. You do that and we see some bodies, I’ll phone the police myself and collaborate with you. Mark my words.’

‘Suppose we shouldn’t have run anyway. Tony needed us, right?’

‘Even if he has been digging up a corpse,’ Greg said.

***

Tentatively, both men ambled through the black woods. Twigs snapped and fallen leaves crunched underfoot, jolting them. Neither man really wanted to do this. However, their story sounded outlandish. Furthermore, if they didn’t have any evidence they could both get rebuked for making a prank call and wasting police time. This wasn’t a normal occurrence. This was something that both men saw in a horror film shown late at night on T.V.

An owl tooted overhead. Greg thought the full moon, shining like a silver disc and the owl noises were an ominous omen. He wanted to turn back the clock to an hour ago. He wanted to go home and sit in front of the T.V. He didn’t want to have any knowledge of what had gone on that he and Bobbie had witnessed.

The alders stood towering, sentries of the night. Birds fluttered their wings and sailed from treetop to treetop. The activity should have comforted them. Instead the sudden noises jolted their hearts. Greg could just about make out the last row of alders and firs as they neared the opening. Nearing the meadow where tranquillity had become a distant memory dispersing into tiny fragments.

They slowed to a halt when they reached the opening and got their bearings. Then Bobbie pointed to where the earth had been disturbed by Tony’s pick axe and spade. He glanced back over his shoulder, eyes glittering in the moonlight. Greg’s Adam’s apple worked convulsively. His eyes protuberant and alert.

Bobbie gave him the ‘thumbs up’ of approval. Greg saw the gesture but didn’t respond. A part of him loathed Bobbie for encouraging him to come out here and see the macabre. Okay, Bobbie didn’t know what they were going to see. However, had he not met up with his friend in the pub earlier and agreed to come with him to spy on Tony he wouldn’t be trembling with fear.

Greg scanned the terrain for any signs of Tony. The land was quiet and empty, save for his binoculars lying on a carpet of pine needles. He hurried over to retrieve them. Bobbie watched, wondering whether Greg would bother to return or merely walk away. At least he’d found them. That made him feel a bit better.

Greg lifted the night vision binoculars up, looped the strap over his head and peered through the eyeholes. The scope had altered and for a second he could see all the intricate lines on the bark of the nearest alder. He adjusted the lens, refocusing. Then he turned the night vision light up a few notches.

He exclaimed and leapt back inadvertently, hitting the back of his head against the unforgiving stump. He heard footfall running, drawing closer behind him, out of sight. He hoped it was Bobbie... and the not the motionless silhouette standing amidst the trees, facing him.

‘Christ, Greg!’ Bobbie gasped.

The binoculars dangling from his neck, Greg struggled to penetrate the dark.

‘What happened?’

Greg tried to sit up but groaned in agony at the lancing pain in the back of his neck. Argh. Goddamn it.’

‘What happened? Bobbie repeated. ‘You saw something, didn’t you?’

‘Yeah,’ Greg grunted.

‘What?’

‘Someone standing over there staring right at me.’

Bobbie turned in the direction Greg pointed and saw no one. He turned back, lifted the binoculars off his friend and used them to see through the pitch dark.

Nothing.

He scanned the woods, to and fro. All his senses were on high alert. But he didn’t see, hear or even sense something - or someone - foreboding nearby.

‘Was it Tony?’

Greg considered this for a brief moment. Then said: ‘It was just a shape.’

‘You hurt?’

‘Nah, I’m just lying here for a laugh.’

‘You know what I mean,’ Bobbie said.

‘Think I’m all right. Bad landing, that’s all. Gimme a hand up. Take it easy, though.’

Bobbie got on his haunches, gripped Greg’s hands and with a lot of exertion hoisted him up. He nearly dropped him. But he managed to catch Greg as he started toppling backwards. ‘Jesus Christ. You had a good Christmas.’

And in spite of the night’s harrowing events, both men laughed.

‘What now?’ Greg asked after using one of the alders to keep him upright.

‘You okay to walk?’

‘Just gimme a minute first.’

Bobbie nodded in acquiescence. ‘Gotta check the holes for any proof. Then we’ll decide what to do next. That all right?’

Greg rubbed the nape of his neck, wincing. ‘Hope we don’t find any bodies, man. I dunno how much more my heart can take.’

‘Me too,’ Bobbie said, solemn. ‘Me too.’

After a good five minutes, Greg followed right behind his friend to the meadow that stretched out in front of them. The holes in the ground made the open land look like a giant minefield.

Bobbie slowed, took a knee and gestured towards the torch lying on the upturned earth.

‘Does it still work?’ Greg asked.

Bobbie reached out and then withdrew his hand as though he’d been stung.

‘What’s the matter?’

‘It’s wet,’ Bobbie said. Then he picked the torch up, flicked the switch.

In the torchlight, both men saw the fresh crimson liquid drip off the brightly lit glass.

***

Greg and Bobbie deliberated what they’d found and what they were going to do.

‘Whose blood is this? Tony’s?’ Bobbie asked rhetorically.

‘I don’t think so.’

‘You think the shape was Tony?’

Greg sighed. ‘Oh, I dunno. It’s fuckin’ pitch dark out here. I hit my head. And, I’m not interested in being Columbo. I just wanna go home, if that’s all right with you?’

‘And what if this is Tony’s blood. He could be in trouble?’ Bobbie said, still holding the torch.

‘Then it’s his own fault for coming all the way out here and digging up a corpse! Perhaps he should have thought of that before burying a human being.’

Bobbie shook his head, frustrated. ‘You want to just walk away and not do anything about this?’

‘Yes,’ Greg said, matter-of-factly.

Silence descended.

‘I don’t know if I can,’ Bobbie said. ‘But I need you to support me if I report this to the police.’

‘Report what exactly?’ Greg snapped. ‘It’s pitch dark. We’re trespassing - and in the midst of the dark we think we see our good friend, Tony, digging up a corpse he must’ve buried a while back. But we can’t prove that this statement is accurate ‘cause there is no corpse. On top of that, there is no Tony in sight. What we do have is a discarded torch that could be anyone’s, with a couple of drying drops of blood on it and holes in the earth. Also, Tony’s pick axe and spade are gone.

‘Now, if I were a police officer and I’d been called out by two locals who’d been drinking before wandering onto private property and I had listened to the story with just holes in the ground and a torch with some blood on it, and nothing else, I’d be dubious. Do you see what I’m getting at?’

Reluctantly, Bobbie nodded.

‘If we had a body, fine. I agreed to that. We don’t, though.’

‘Okay,’ Bobbie said, dejected somewhat. ‘Let’s go.’

They traipsed across the meadow back to the stile and clambered over the fence. Then they crossed the main road. Neither man spoke to the other. There wasn’t anything to say.