Elvis’ last ride
The air was crisp and cool, the night starry and silent teeming with the endless possibilities that lay ahead. The moon was out tonight and illuminated the night sky with its far away radiance.
Jamie and her boyfriend Zac were accompanied by Heather and her boyfriend Tom. Heather and Jamie were roommates and had lived together for about two years although they knew each other for far longer than that. They first became acquainted in the early days of grade nine which by now was just over ten years ago, they shared a locker block and had many of the same classes so their meeting was inevitable and as most young children do in a strange new place they look for anyone and everyone to be their friend, their friendship quickly blossomed and now as they’re both approaching their 25th birthdays that friendship is still going strong. Zac and Tom had never met before they started dating their respective girlfriends, and although they had quite different interests, they got along perfectly well and enjoyed each other's company. Zac was a firefighter one town over in the community of Bangor, and Tom worked as an airplane mechanic at the Castle Rock airport; they, too, were approaching their 25th revolution around the sun.
On this tranquil November night, the four of them were going out on a double date; they had booked an escape room experience in the nearby town of Derry, Maine. The four of them lived in Castle Rock, Maine, about a 35-minute drive away, that being each way of course. The night was still young and fresh despite the cascading fall darkness that had crept over them. Tom’s watch read the time as 7:45 p.m. on this fine Friday of November 16th. They had all had a long, complex, and honest day's work and were more than ready to kick back and enjoy the weekend. The first major plan of the weekend, of course, was the escape room; they had booked the Green Mile escape room and experience based just loosely enough on Stephen King's novella of the same name, so that they could avoid any lawsuits or legal harassment. It had a five-star review on the website from those who had done it, and many were thoroughly impressed by the service and ambiance of the place. They had been there before and held the establishment in the utmost regard. As far as escape room venues go, this one was tops. Escape manor of Derry, Maine was located on the main strip of the town, if you could even call it that, Derry was a small town with a practically nonexistent downtown comprised of Morrow’s hardware, needful things (a small curio and antiquity store run by the charming and elderly Leland Gaunt) and Escape Manor, there was also of course the post office, library and city hall building. Escape Manor was a large building with three distinct escape rooms: the Green mile, Schools Out and the Thompsons
Heather and Tom had previously completed the Thompsons. It was a knock-off of another popular cult classic, The Simpsons, and they had thoroughly enjoyed it. Escape Manor prided itself on having superior service and a bar that was accessible throughout the entire premises, even amid the escape rooms you could call out to the ever watching ever listening cameras and place a drink order and an attendant would arrive with it or push it through a hidden hatch to you. Due to this fact and the fact that it was Friday night and they all intended to get at least slightly buzzed, they decided to do the responsible thing and call an Uber. Jamie opened the app on her phone and placed the order at 8:02 pm and at precisely 8:06 pm the Uber arrived, a newer model dark green Toyota Corolla with an uncharacteristically cracked front window and almost certainly illegally tinted rear windows the car couldn’t have been more than maybe 5years old but it already had the slight rumbling noise of a minor exhaust leak starting, oh well that’s what the winter salt will do to these metal beasts Tom thought to himself as he entered and got situated in the passenger front seat In the rear, Jamie, Heather and Zac were sandwiched in. The Uber driver was a peculiar fellow, the app said his name was Elvis, although he never introduced himself or even looked their way as they entered the vehicle. The app also showed a picture of a smiling young man with a clean cut hairdo and fair complexion although that image was a far cry from the driver they saw before them, Elvis wore a black oversized hoodie with the hood up and because he never even turned his head to acknowledge them they couldn’t tell if he was smiling that reassuring and youthful smile his profile picture so clearly projected on the app but if he had turned his head they would’ve seen that the straggly haired unshaven person driving bore no resemblance to the Elvis that was pictured
The real Elvis was, unbeknownst to everyone but the driver, in the trunk of the car, now dead from the repeated blunt force trauma he had received from his last fare for the evening.
The car had the faint lingering odour of smoke despite the no-smoking decals plastered over the front glovebox
From inside, Tom could see that the windshield's view was distorted along the spidering cracks of the glass and wondered how the driver could see properly driving in broad daylight, let alone in the dark. Before they all had a chance to buckle their seatbelts the car lurched into motion and began on its route. “So Elvis have you been driving for long?” Zac asked and received no answer, “ has it been a busy night” Jamie chimed in, this too went unanswered, now a little uneased by the wary silence that followed their queries they decided it best to continue the ride in silence
In the front seat Tom’s phone was vibrating silently, he fumbled with the seatbelt that was blocking access to his pockets and fished out his phone only to see texts from Heather who was in the back seat and whom he now saw was on her phone, he checked his unread messages and saw that she had been texting him “is it just me or is this guy fucking creepy?”
Not wanting the driver to see the texts or know they were talking about him he brusquely shoved the phone back into his pocket hoping the driver who was indeed fucking creepy hadn’t seen it. As they puttered down the road towards the interstate Zac began to whistle a few bars of a song before stopping himself and deciding it was neither the right time nor place nor ambiance for that. The driver did not signal when he changed lanes nor did he signal when he got onto the on ramp or onto the interstate although he could be forgiven for that as there was nobody else out on the road. As they motored down the interstate doing 55 miles an hour the driver spooked them all by suddenly putting on his blinker and pulling over just past an overpass. “Is everything okay??” Heather asked inquisitively, “I’ve got a flat tire” the Uber driver replied in a low toneless voice devoid of any emotion.
As “Elvis” killed the ignition, turned off the blinker and headlights he turned to face Tom, the face Tom saw was not the calm collected face of Elvis but the deranged face of madness, Elvis then looked into the rear view mirror at the rest of them and speaking softly and slowly he instructed them to get out of the car now
Nobody moved
Time stood still
As the seconds ticked by on Tom’s wrist watch the mental clocks of Tom Heather Jamie and Zac seemed to tick on for hours in the deathly silence
“Get out now” Elvis repeated this time with more urgency and an underlying tone of anger and impatience. Tom began to reach for the door handle when Heather speaking quickly and with a hint of frustration says
“Tom what the hell are you doing ?!?! You can’t be seriously going out there he’s gonna drive off and leave us here”
“I don’t care let him leave us here clearly he’s not well” Tom replies as he opens the door and undos his seat belt. Frustrated and terrified the three in the back seat begin to follow suit. As they stand around the car they all observe that there is no flat tire
Elvis is the last to exit the vehicle still wearing the hoodie with the hood up he looks at each of them with a slight grin dawning on his face
He speaks quickly yet with no sense of importance as if he’s rattling off a grocery list at double speed
“Here is what’s gonna happen you will each hand me your phones and any electronic devices or weapons you may have on your person you will then be given three minutes to run and hide in those woods over there”
As he motions to the densely wooded area 200m away from the interstate
“At that time the hunt will begin and the last one to be caught will reap their reward”
“Your fucking crazy” zac spits out at the man passing as Elvis
“NO I AM NOT !” Screams back the man
Then in a hushed whisper adds “I’m really not I’m just misunderstood”
“Your a goddamn loonie” Jamie adds in agreeance the man digs deep into his waist band and produces a revolver it’s silver barrel glistens in the moonlight
“You can run and hide and one of you will stand a chance of survival or you can stay here and suck on the barrel of my gun and each of you will die a far more excruciating death”
Not knowing whether the man meant sucking his cock or his actual revolver and not wanting to find out Tom tells the group that they might be better off running for help and trying to escape in the woods, they shoot uncertain glances at each other before mentally agreeing that Tom is right, maybe in the woods there will be a hunter who can save them or maybe they’ll escape and double track back to the highway and flag down a passing motorist for help. The man waves the gun at them and demands they hand over their cellphones they reluctantly give him their devices at which time he asks if they have any weapons of their own. Tom thinks about his Swiss Army knife sitting at home on his oak bedside table and wishes it was in his pocket
He feels his pocket regardless half expecting it to miraculously have appeared in his pants but finds only the condom he put into his front right pocket next to his wallet. At least he came prepared with some form of protection he thinks to himself
The remainder of them shake their heads “no” to the man’s question and satisfied with the answer and holding the gun in one hand the cellphones in the other he says
“You have three minutes don’t stick together I don’t like to hunt the pack I like to hunt the individual, remember the winner gets to live if they still want to”
Those last five words haunt the group but before they can ponder the implications the man fires a shot into the air and yells “run goddamn it run for the trees you have three minutes !!” They disperse immediately running for the treeline Tom who hadn’t ran since highschool phys-ed is at the back of the pack despite his long legs with Zac being the fittest of them at the front
Jamie stumbles and almost twists her ankle in a rabbit hole along the way and Heather panting and out of breath almost trips looking back to see how Tom is doing
They make it to the tree line and immediately huddle up despite the crazy man’s order not to stick together
“Sticking together and working together is our only hope of making it out of this alive” Heather says between breaths “I agree” says Zac “what do we do” asks Jamie
“Look for weapons” replies Tom
They disperse and look for any sort of big branches that could serve as clubs they retreat further into the woods out of sight of the road they don’t want the man to see them working together or to have a clean shot at them so they go a hundred meters into the tree line to where they feel it’s safe
It’s a dense forest and inside of it you can’t see the night sky through the canopy of trees, fumbling in the dark on their hands and knees they collect a branch each and discard it everytime a heftier or more suitable defence weapon is found. In the distance they hear another gun shot followed by deafening silence they pause wondering what the hell is happening before getting to their feet weapons in hand, they decide it’s best to stand with their backs to eachother to give themselves no blind spots they stumble through the woods wondering which way back to the interstate. As they navigate the dense forest they are met with a cold hostile gust of wind that sends shivers down their spines but they soon find an area that’s less densely populated by trees and stand there backs to eachother in a circle in silence
Tom checks the time on his wrist watch and sees it’s now 8:22pm and can’t believe how little time has passed since they first called the Uber it seems like it’s been a lifetime in the forest and another lifetime since they left the safety of their homes. “What do you think that shot was for just now” Jamie asks breaking the silence “it probably means our three minutes is up and he’s coming in now” Heather replies
Zac shivers in the cold despite his warm jacket and setting his stick between his legs he blows onto his hands trying to warm them up
“Don’t do that he could be anywhere” Tom Cautions him as Zac reluctantly picks the stick back up
“Sorry Im freezing all of a sudden” says Zac
“We all are it’s so goddamn cold in here all of a sudden” Tom says brusquely
“There’s no moonlight and even in the day I’ll bet the sun can barely warm anything up in here with such dense foliage” Heather says to defend Zac
Meanwhile back along the treeline the man who killed Elvis is smiling as he makes his way into the forest gun in hand pointed out in front of him his eyes shift constantly over every stone and between every branch and tree looking for his prey
“I’m not crazy goddamn it! I have the decency to let one of them live and they go ahead and call me a loonie” he whispers to himself not particularly caring that there’s nobody around to hear it
He pushes branches aside as he dives deeper into the brush
Back in the clearing they’ve fanned out and are exploring the clearing trying to make sense of which way to go when they notice carvings in some of the trees
“Hey look at these” Zac shouts
“Shhhhhhh!!!!” Jamie whisper shouts back
“Sorry but you guys gotta see these carvings”
The gang gathers around the tree where Zac stands and try to make sense of the carvings they see. They’re etched deep into the wood of a dead tree that’s only upright because it’s sandwiched between two other big trees
“They go so deep” Tom proclaims as he examines the funny little swirls and characters of a language he can’t quite make out running her hands over them Jamie suddenly yanks her hand back and gasps “What?” Asks Heather “Nothing sorry I just got a chill that’s all” replies Jamie “It’s not in English whatever it is” remarks Zac “Maybe it’s hobo signs or gang signs” Tom adds, “yes because if there’s two things rural Maine has it’s gangs and hobos” Heather replies sarcastically
“Well fuck me I don’t know I’m just pitching ideas here” Tom says exasperated
“Maybe it’s carvings from a long lost Indian tribe” pitches Zac “Boys, they’re all retarded” Jamie utters exhaustively and as she turns to walk away they hear a twig snap in the distance “Oh fuck!” They whisper in union as they hold their primitive stick weapons up before them and regain a defensive circular position in the middle of the clearing as their eyes dart between trees they see the shadowy outline of something rapidly rustling through the trees accompanied by another gust of unseasonably cold air and the putrid odour of decay “The fuck was that ?” Tom asks tentatively “I don’t know” replies Heather
The deep black shadow staggering larger than life flits through the trees before absconding further into the forest
“Do you think it’s Elvis” Jamie asks
“More likely it’s a deer” replies Zac
“Whatever it was it’s fucking scary” adds Heather as she moves closer to Tom grabbing him with her one free hand and squeezing his arm her nails biting into his jacket.
600m away the man with the gun is wandering the woods hunting his prey when he too hears a twig snap “I’ve got you now you son of a bitch” he proclaims as he points the gun towards the source of the noise tauntingly he sneers “come out, come out and plaaaayy” the bushes to his left rustle and another twig snaps before he sees a towering black shadow flit in front of him and rustle into the bushes to his right
He aims the gun at the bushes and wraps his finger around the trigger preparing to fire when from the midst of the darkness two distinct and soulless eyes open and glow a dim yellow
His heart stops as he steadies his gun and fires twice at the black mass with the yellow eyes
The shots echo through the trees and birds take flight from their tree top homes and small squirrels and other wildlife scurry away to safety through it all the cold calculating eyes remain open as they watch the man with the gun
Regaining his composure and belief that he is the superior hunter in this situation the man with the gun shouts out “come and get your fucking medicine you punk kids” the eyes close and the figure disappears into the woods once more
Back at the clearing they hear the shots and wonder aloud what Elvis is shooting at
“Probably the deer we saw” Heather rationalizes “I’ll bet it spooked him as much as it spooked us” agrees Zac “maybe” Tom adds uncertainly
Unbeknownst to the four of them or the thing passing as Elvis they were atop land that once belonged to the Wabanaki people their name literally translated to meaning the “dawn land people” and this particular stretch of forest along the interstate has been relatively untouched over the last couple hundred years since the Penobscot tribe once lived near there. If any of them were fluent in native dialect they could’ve seen and heeded the warnings engraved on the dead tree they found and would’ve read that this land is cursed and all those who attempt to live in it will die at the hands of a shadowy beast known fearfully across these great lands as the Wendigo.
The Wendigo is an evil spirit that thirsts for human blood and hungers for human flesh.
Legend has it that everytime it feasts upon its prey it grows proportionately in size so as it’s always still just as hungry, it’s a creature born of man’s darkest temptations and greed, according to tribal lore a man or woman can be turned into a Wendigo by a mixture of extreme personal greed and the dark shameful desire of human flesh and blood it’s said to be a fore bearer of winter and cold a human whose heart has turned to ice and body morphed into a disfigured and disproportionate unholy anomaly
This particular Wendigo is the result of a cold winter tale of greed and survival most extreme
One year many many moons ago the Penobscot people’s crops floundered and died leaving little corn and little supplies for their people to last the winter but one family of high standing in the tribe had access to the rations and was tasked with distributing them, the eldest boy whose name is since long lost to the annals of time and history would volunteer to dispense the food every night to all the tribal members and he would always serve them less than what they rightfully deserved and could’ve afforded to get instead opting to keep it for himself so he could gorge himself on food that wasn’t rightfully his. This act of greed went unnoticed for some time however like every deed done in the dark it will eventually be brought to light and he was discovered and put on trial by the village elders, they agreed on a sentence and that sentence was banishment from the tribe, he was sent to live in the woods nearby the village and he spent the summer there in relative ease he hunted and trapped animals for food and he had never been one to flourish socially or require friends so the absence of his tribe members and family meant little to him until winter came that year the winter was cold and brutal and the boy was very near death he was very angry at the villagers and very angry at the elders in particular he felt he had done no wrong and that being from an influential family he deserved certain “perks” such as more food and special treatment. He swore revenge and one cold starless night he crept back to the village
The village was a peaceful village that had no need for guards around its perimeter they had not fought with other tribes in many moons and it was far too cold a night to spend outside anyways so the boy was met with no resistance. He hurried through the village and stumbled upon the villages supply of food, he paused at the food his belly was empty and he was near delirious with hunger but he had no use for these rations of corn and preserved meats he wanted something else. He snuck into the tent of the village elders granddaughter and slit her throat and as he drank the dark warm blood that gurgled from her throat his transformation began. He could feel her soft still warm flesh and he snuggled up against her body as he undressed her body he could feel his body resisting his minds twisted commands he undressed himself and in the light of the flickering dying embers of her once steady fire in her tent he began to caress her body and hair. He raped her quietly and without resistance before he carved into supple flesh and ate hungrily at the muscle and fat beneath her skin when he was done eating he could feel waves of shock, horror and disgust wash over him for what he had just done but once something has been done it cannot be undone and the boys transformation had already begun.
He had been greedy beyond any rationale and had committed unspeakable acts in the name of personal gain and had neglected food for flesh and by the time he made it back to his own dwelling in the forest his configuration was complete. No longer a boy but a Wendigo standing 10ft tall with dimly glowing yellow eyes, long, sharp curved claws and a stench of decay that permeated to the bone, his body once young and supple was now coated in thick matted fur and from his head protruded two distinct stubs that in time would grow to become antleresque horns As he went to the creek near his camp he looked into the slow running water and saw what he had become and he wept for he was no longer a man but a beast.
In the forest the ancient Wendigo retreated from the gunfire and using its great strength and sharp powerful claws climbed a tall tree and resting atop the tree it surveyed the land it could smell fear and flesh and it hungered insatiably to once more feast upon the flesh of the innocent but it knew it would have to do something about the intruder with a gun
from its nesting spot atop the tree it could see a great distance and leaping from tree canopy to tree canopy it began to roam the forest in search of prey
The man with the gun was scared he no longer felt like the dominant hunter here
He was unsure of what animal would have dimly glowing yellow eyes and he decided he didn’t want to stick around and find out.
But still he couldn’t risk leaving those kids alive in here he knew if he scampered off that they would escape and find help and he would be caught, he knew he had to silence them but that meant going further into the forest and hunting them, this once intriguing and sexually gratifying idea no longer held the same merit now that he knew there to be something else in the forest with them. Cautiously his gun outstretched in front of him he ventured deeper into the woods
In the clearing the group was fanning out and as they did so they came to discover that many of the trees were etched with primitive markings some depicting scenes with stick figure warriors spears in hand chasing down a towering beast with antlers
“Hey look at this one it looks like stick figures hunting a monster” called out Tom to the group as they clamoured around it they let out a collective shudder of fear and uncertainty, “okay but monsters aren’t real” says Heather, wanting to appear smart and deeply philosophical tom replies “monsters are real and they live inside all of us”
“Oh please you take one philosophy course in college as an elective and suddenly your Socrates” Heather sighs exhaustively. “What do you think these represent” Jamie asks in an uncertain and shakey voice.
“It probably means this was once where tribes hunted monsters or whatever they interpreted to be monsters” Zac replies before adding
“Monsters aren’t always what they seem, remember in the lord of the flies the monster they thought they had on the island was just a wild boar, God only knows what animal these primitive natives mistook as a monster”
“Probably a deer or maybe even a moose based on those antlers” Heather chimes in
The Wendigo was now directly atop the group of the four of them and saw them examining the tree carvings, those carvings were left by hunting parties of the Penobscot tribe when they had hunted in vain for it, they scoured the trees, spears in hand ready to slaughter the beast for what it had done to the elders grandchild. It shuddered at the memories of being hunted like a wild animal, over time the Wendigo had come to fully consume the spirit of the boy, the boy once held feelings of shame and disgust and self loathing, he had once held a desire to become reunited with his tribe and to have everything go back to normal, that boy was long gone replaced by an frozen hearted wendigo hellbent on destruction and carnage this creature was a primitive creature it knew only to hunt or be hunted and it thought only of its lust for blood and flesh.
The man with the gun was now only 250m from the group and although he had the light of his phone to guide him he could barely see through the all enveloping darkness of the forest, he stumbled repeatedly over branches and once even fell to his knees having hit his head on a low hanging branch, cursing the forest he thought back to how this all began
The man, Rusty Shackleford had begun his day like any other, he woke up to the sound of an alarm going off at 7am signifying the need to get up and get ready for work, he worked as a shipper/receiver at the Walgreens in Castle Rock, today was a bigger day for him at work typically they had one small cube truck of deliveries a day but today they were slated to have two trucks to unload, he wasn’t sure why they had two trucks arriving nor did he care, he cared very little about that job but it was important he maintained a job, his therapist and doctor had insisted that he maintain a job lest he be sent to the looney bin, he had been diagnosed with acute schizophrenia a few months back after going to the doctor regarding the presence of voices in his head, he’d always had voices for as long as he could remember but it was always more of an internal monologue the kind of voices you just assume every bodies got but nobody talks about, but these new voices were different they weren’t coming from inside his head per se they sounded external like people talking to him but nobody was ever around when he heard them, they told him things, secret things, they commanded him to do things and sometimes he listened to them
They started off innocent enough, “miss work today and go fishing you deserve it” the one voice had coaxed him on a fine, late August day, as he grew to trust the voices the commands became more and more sinister escalating to committing petty theft of goods at work off the trucks he unloaded and later to trapping and killing small animals like squirrels and the neighborhood cats, the voices today had been quite bad, he’d been off his meds for the last few days because he just couldn’t take them anymore, they made him sick to his stomach he could barely keep food down while he was on them and he had been showing progress so he thought he deserved a break from them and for the first day or two off his meds the voices stayed silent but then today they came back with a fury and intensity that was unmatched by any of his prior episodes, he felt like he had glass inside his head with sharp pangs of it piercing his temples and the pressure behind his eyes was unbearable he’d have sold his soul to end the agony and then through it all he heard them, he heard the voices they beckoned to him they promised him a way out they promised him they could make it all go away but he had to do something first
The voices commanded him to commit a sacrifice but not one of beast like they had so often asked of him in the past but of man
“I can’t kill a man” Rusty had argued with the voices, “you must” the voices replied “we see through your heart we see that you are hurting we know your pain and agony and we can give you a way out but for your pain to leave your body it must first enter another’s you must inflict your pain onto another” “I will do what I must” Rusty sighed resignedly He called into work sick and began debating how he would kill a man and get away with it, he thought about killing a hobo, nobody would care about another greasy wino biting the dust but Castle Rock had a very small homeless population that was well cared for by the town folk and regularly checked up on by the church, he quickly decided it would have to be a random person and that he would have to simply hope for the best and not get caught. He thought about killing someone out of town and thought about how it would be harder for them to investigate him or suspect him but then he realized he’d need an alibi and that by not being at work he’d have none. Finally he resigned himself to simply killing anyone he could, he decided upon killing an Uber driver he wasn’t sure why he had decided upon that but then again he wasn’t quite sure why he had to kill anyone at all, all he knew was that he needed the pain inside his head to go away and the voices which had never steered him wrong yet could promise him a way out if he did kill. So he called an Uber, the Uber drivers name was Elvis and the profile picture of the driver showed a bright and gleaming young man, seeing this picture enraged him, he didn’t know why, he wasn’t sure if it was a sort of jealousy from seeing someone young and healthy while he was struggling so much with health or if it was because his name was Elvis, Rusty’s mother had been a great admirer of the king and played his records daily, very quickly from a very young age Rusty realized he did not share that adoration of mister Presley and felt quite the opposite about him, he despised his music and despised his imagery and most of all he despised that stupid shit eating half smile of his that he always wore in pictures, he found it funny and fitting that he died a fat bloated fuck on the toilet and when he told his mother that she wept like she’d lost her son. Elvis had brought his gun ,a gun he was supposed to have surrendered to the local police dept upon being diagnosed with schizophrenia but he lied to his therapist when he told him he surrendered it to old Jim Dugan the head sheriff in town, he worried that his therapist would call old Jim and verify it but he never did. So with the gun tucked neatly into his waist band he rode with the Uber driver for quite some time, he had put the destination address as the cemetery just outside county lines, a fitting place for a murder he figured and hoped it would be devoid of any funerals or grief stricken widows hunched over loved ones graves. On the way there the anxiety and possibility of there being people there grew to become too much so he ordered the Uber driver pull over on country road 99 still about 10mins from the cemetery. The driver hesitantly agreed worried that perhaps his fare had become ill as he looked terrible and was straggly and unshaven. Rusty produced the pistol and shoved it into the back of Elvis head and ordered him to leave the vehicle
Too shocked to move Elvis didn’t comply
“Wh wh what do you want” Elvis stammered
“If it’s money I haven’t got much ive been saving up to get my windshield replaced it’s been shattered ever since that big hail storm a few weeks back”
“This ain’t about money” Rusty snarled and as Elvis glanced into the rear view mirror and into the crazed eyes of Rusty his heart dropped because he suddenly knew that there was no way he’d be getting out of this alive. He exited the vehicle leaving his phone behind in its holder mounted to the dashboard as he leaned over the hood of the car arms outstretched as he was instructed to, Rusty got out leaving the rear passenger door open he walked to the front, gun in hand ready to shoot Elvis when suddenly he doubled over in pain
“You can’t shoot him!!” Screamed the voices “you have to make him feel pain you have to let the hate leave your body and enter his” they commanded, Rusty walked to the drivers door and opened it he fumbled inside the vehicle looking for the trunk release and after finding it and pressing it he walked
To the back of the vehicle he was now acutely aware of the fact that Elvis had started crying on the hood of the car but he didn’t care he just needed this pain to be gone from his head, opening the trunk he searched inside it for anything that would work as a blunt weapon, lifting the trunk floor liner he came across the spare tire and jack, an empty Jerry can, a first aid kit and some other assorted trunk clutter but to his hearts dismay there was no tire iron, he frantically clawed at the cutout in the foam where it was supposed to be and almost let out a low agonizing growl at its absence. Then he saw it- it had slipped out of its styrofoam holder and was beside and partially under the spare tire itself
He grabbed it feverishly and after tucking the gun back into his waist band he wielded it with two hands as he approached Elvis Elvis turned his head to see what was happening and began to bawl harder when he saw Rusty menacingly encroaching tire iron in hand “please please please don’t kill me you don’t have to do this I’ll give you whatever you want” begged Elvis
Silently Rusty reached the front of the vehicle and raised the metal object up and behind his head
“Please” whimpered Elvis
Then it was over he brought it down onto his head striking him in the temple
Elvis slid off the hood of the car and hunched down by the tire
Rusty swung the tire iron into Elvis’ face shattering his nose before bringing it back and swinging again down into the dome of his head he swung again and again and again until he was absolutely certain that Elvis was dead then he began to kick the body, he kicked wildly at his abdomen and groin his floundering kicks made impactful thuds against Elvis lifeless body with every kick and every swing of the tire iron Rusty’s mind had cleared like fog lifting in the piercing rays of the early mornings sun. Now clear of mind and devoid of voices Rusty moved Elvis body to the trunk and after throwing him in along with the bloody tire iron he slammed it shut and got into the driver seat and began to drive back home
He drove the long way back home not caring about wasting gas or taking more time, despite not smoking in nearly two years Rusty very suddenly craved a cigarette, after making it back into town he stopped at Lucky’s smoke shop on the corner of Baldwin drive and Sycamore street and got himself a pack of Marlboros, lighting one up inside the car he began to drive about the town with no clear destination in mind he coughed and winced at the smoke that his lungs were no longer accustomed to and as he choked for air he began to feel the sharp stabbing pain in his head return along with the voices, “good, good see what relief we can give to you, the lord your God infected you with pain and suffering and left you to die in pain alone like Christ forsaken on the cross but we can give you a way out there’s always another way out” the voices reassured him “the pain is coming back” snarled Rusty “of course it is we never said how long the relief would be did we” laughed the voices “you son of a bitch I just killed a man do you have any idea how much trouble I’ll be in if I’m caught they’ll fucking execute me and what am I supposed to do say the voices made me do it that’s the oldest goddamn excuse in the book” bluntly the voices replied “that’s not our concern now is it”
By this point the full intensity of the pain had returned and was almost worse than it was before killing Elvis
“ we can make this pain go away for an eternity if you so desire but it will take allot more than one soul to satiate the hunger of the demon you feel within”
“Yeah how many five or five hundred when will it end?” spat Rusty
“Kill three more and your soul will be atoned” the voices reassured him
“Why should I listen to or believe you?” Rusty asked hesitantly “What option do you have?” the voices asked back it was at this time as he was driving around town that Elvis phone started to go off it was a notification there was a ride request for a group of 4 to be taken to Derry and they were only two blocks away, the driver extinguished his cigarette and opened the windows and turned the air on full blast to rid the car of smoke and therefore any suspicion of wrong doings in the vehicle and began to make his way to the pickup point “just three more bodies” he told himself
A twig snapped and shook Rusty clear of these recollections back in the present moment with his gun in hand and outstretched at whatever may lie ahead in the forest he called out again to the group “come out come out wherever you are I’ll find you all one by one your mine”
The group was still shaken by what they had seen and while the consensus was that it must’ve been a deer none of them were too certain. They decided enough time had passed in the clearing and that they were no longer safe there and their best bet would be to go back to the road and try to flag down help, sticks in hand backs together in a circular defensive position they began to make their way back in the direction they believed the interstate to be. They were no longer as cautious having been thoroughly spooked by whatever they had seen they moved hastily and crunched twigs and dead leaves under foot with nearly every step but they didn’t care they just wanted to get out of the forest but little did they know they’d gotten themselves turned around and were in fact heading deeper still into the dense foliage
The Wendigo watched the four of them go deeper into the forest and it did not try to stop them it knew it would feast upon them all it knew every square inch of these forests and their sticks meant nothing to him. He could crush those sticks as easily as he could crush their puny spines. Once the four of them left the Wendigo jumped from tree trunk to tree trunk like a satanic monkey back towards Rusty. he quickly discovered Rusty back against a tree, gun outstretched in front of him, shakily jerking it in every direction
Rusty could hear the branches swaying and creaking in the wind, and he could smell a deep, putrid odour of decay descend upon him. He swept the gun shakily in front of him at any perceived threats, but there were none to be found, or so he thought. From high above him he heard a branch snap and come crashing down, he jumped and pointed the gun in the air “I’ll kill you goddamn it” he yelled into the abyss
The Wendigo has a simple mind in the sense that it only thinks in black and white, life and death but its cunning, far more cunning than most men it jumps a few trees away and then silently slithers down the tree and hides in a bush 20ft from Rusty “help me I twisted my ankle” the voice of Heather calls out from between the wendigos lips “somebody please come help me” it calls
“Now I’ve got you” shouts Rusty as he scrambles towards the bush gun in hand finger on the trigger he uses his one free hand to draw back a branch and what he sees horrifies him and sends shivers down his spine the Wendigo is there crouched down eyes open and alert large dirty claws outstretched in front of it and as it opens its mouth lined with razor sharp teeth it lets loose a guttural ear piercing cry
Rusty freezes in fear unable to move as the Wendigo stands to its full towering height of ten feet and mouth gaping, large forked tongue slithering out of its mouth it grabs onto Rusty with its open claws and pulls him up off of his feet one of Rusty’s shoes falls off as the other dangles limply barely holding onto his foot Rusty opens his mouth to scream. Still, his breath has left him; he’s unable to move or cry out as the Wendigo opens its jaw further. He hears a low creaking noise as the jaw unhinges to its full capacity. A high pitched feverish noise finally escapes Rusty as the Wendigo pulls his head into its mouth before biting down with the force of a hundred alligators there’s a dull crunch as his spinal cord severs and the head is ripped free from his torso, high pressure blood from his arteries shoot out of his neck and bathes the Wendigos’ face in blood the Wendigo swallows the head whole and releases the body from its vulture like grip as Rusty’s headless corpse falls to the forest floor the Wendigo kneels down and begins to devour the carcass.
“What was that ?!?!?” Cries Heather, as they all freeze at the high-pitched screeching cry they hear. “It sounded like a dying owl on steroids,” remarks Tom. “I don’t like this at all,” adds Jamie. They quicken pace as they stumble blindly through the pitch black forest, unknowingly going closer and closer towards the grim site of Rusty’s demise. They struggle in the deep foliage, pushing back branches and stepping through brush. Their clothes are tattered and fraying as they shield their faces with one outstretched hand, whilst the other holds their club-like branches at the ready. Suddenly Zac steps into something soft and mushy and immediately gets the mental image of stepping onto a two week old rotting pumpkin “what the fuck is that!?!?” he cries out in disgust before looking down and seeing the fresh remains of Rusty’s body with his foot embedded in his abdomen. He immediately wretches and pukes onto the remains of the corpse, the rest of them freeze and, seeing the disembowelled, flung-apart body of Rusty, they feel sick to their stomachs. The body’s ribcage is spread open like bloody angel wings, and all the vital organs are missing. The arms and legs are covered in bite marks and have sizeable chunks of flesh and meat torn from them. They grimly notice the body has no head and in one hand is the still-warm revolver. “My god, I think it’s Elvis,” cries out Jamie, pointing to the gun. “What. The. Fuck.” Exclaims Tom
“Guys, it has no head,” Zac shakily points out with his foot still embedded where Rusty’s spleen should’ve been. “Get out of there” Jamie shrieks at him “for Gods sake your standing in a man” Zac hurriedly lifts his leg comically high as if he’s from the Monty Python department of silly walks sketch as he steps up and out of Rusty’s body wiping his foot on the thick grassy forest floor Zacs face goes deathly pale and he begins dry heaving as if to throw up again.”Stop that; if you puke again, we’ll all start puking,” Heather cautions. I’m sorry; I just can’t help it. I was standing in Elvis,” replies Zac as he continues to repetitively scrape his now semi-clean shoes against the brush. Whatever made that noise!must’ve done this to him, and whatever it is, it’s still out there, and until we get out of here, none of us are safe,” says Tom in a low voice, as the rest agree with him.
Nearby, the Wendigo hears them talking and, turning its head towards them, begins to ponder its choices: it can return to the scene of Rusty’s demise and devour them all or retreat in shame and horror at what it did. For this Wendigo still retained some of the young boy's spirit, and a part of his mind lived on within the mind of the Wendigo, and that part of the boy had come to be filled with self-hatred and regret at his decisions. He wished he were still a man and more than ever to be able to return home and hug his mother, but the days of his mother and the days of that being a possibility had long passed him by. It shuddered at the breeze, although it did not feel cold; it was incapable of feeling almost anything except the bitterest winter winds against its thick fur pelt.
The group stood near Elvis’ dismembered corpse with Tom holding the revolver, he had had to break several of Elvis’ fingers in the process of extracting the weapon but he now held it outwards routinely scanning the dark forest floor ahead of them, as he did so Jamie and Heather rustled through the tattered remains of Elvis and gathered what few belongings he had on him: their cellphones as well as Rusty’s and Elvis’, some extra rounds of ammunition, a wallet and car keys. They opened the tattered brown leather wallet and gasped at what they saw inside- a Maine state driver's license made out to a Rusty Shackleford whose picture matched their driver. “That wasn’t Elvis that drove us, that was some guy named Rusty,” Heather exclaimed, pointing at the license in Jamie’s hand. “What do you think happened to Elvis?” Zac asked, already fearing he knew the answer. “I think Elvis is the least of our concerns,” Tom replied. “I think whatever killed Rusty is still out there and probably still hungry.”
“I agree. We'd better get moving and try to find somewhere with cellphone reception,” Jamie says. As a cool breeze rustles the trees, they fervently look around, unsure of what they expect to see.
Nearby, the Wendigo has retreated to its nest at the base of a thick old tree. It’s a crude nest composed of branches and leaves, but it suffices to keep the Wendigo comfy and warm in the winter and dry in the rainy seasons. It takes one long, curled, and yellowed claw and etches another mark into the tree, tallying another victim. How many has the Wendigo killed in these woods? 30? 50? 150? It wasn’t sure it had only started tallying after the tribe had moved on. He had killed many tribesmen and former brothers who had come out to hunt him, but now, as time went on and the highway was built, the victims were growing increasingly sparser, but tonight was different, tonight there would be many victims and a great feasting of flesh and bone. Sometimes the Gods above smile favourably on the wicked and allow their wickedness to thrive. A man of faith would attest that this is trial by fire for the worthy and that the pain they endure is refining, like turning a coal into a diamond. Still, the skeptic man would see it for what it is: an unfortunate series of events that establish beyond any reasonable doubt that sometimes bad things happen to good people. The Wendigo senses motion in the distance and, fearing the loss of its prey, it takes off across the forest
The group of four travel silently and swiftly across the forest floor weapons in hand, gun at the ready they push aside branches and foliage as they traverse the rough terrain desperately trying to make their way back to the highway or at least to a clearing where they can place a call for help, they have no idea what it is out there and they don’t intend to find out. They make it about 300m and are near the edge of the forest closest to the highway; they can hear the lonely cars go by in the distance. Waves of relief wash over them as they pray that the ordeal is over. They pause momentarily to try their phones and see if they have a connection, when they hear a branch break in the near distant thicket to their right, as they ready their weapons Tom cocks the pistol the Wendigo leaps out at them from the thicket and lunges into Zac with its gaping jaw open it grasps his neck briefly before biting down and severing his head from his body, Jamie screams as Tom fires multiple shots into the body of the Wendigo. Still, it appears to be unaffected as the Wendigo picks up the lifeless body of Zac and begins to rip into his flesh, they all let out a collective scream before running further towards the highway. As Tom runs, he reloads the pistol, replenishing the four shots he expended. Jamie is sobbing as she runs, seeing the look of fear emblazoned on Zac's face as he was decapitated was excruciating for her. Although she’s still in shock and denial, hoping this is all some twisted dream, she knows deep down that what’s happening is real. They make it to the treeline and see they’ve emerged several hundred meters from where they went in. They can still see Elvis’ car in the distance, and take off towards it, looking back as they run in fear of whatever may be chasing them.
They reach the car and fumble through their pockets, trying to find Elvis’ keys. After several moments, they came to the gruesome discovery that Zac had been in possession of them and that they were likely being digested in that monster's stomach. “Fuck fuck fuck we don’t have the fucking keys” Heather screams out stamping her foot on the cold hard ground as she does so. “Well we can’t go back” Tom says “we’ll have to try to flag down a passing motorist or make an SOS call on our phones” Jamie, fighting back sobs takes out her phone and begins frantically trying to unlock it once it’s unlocked. She sees her Home Screen of herself and Zac standing smiling together on their first date, and she can’t contain her sobs any longer. She begins to bawl, Heather takes her arm and puts it around her to comfort her, and while she’s reluctant at first to accept her half hug, she gives in and turns into it and begins sobbing into Heather's arm. Tom takes out his phone and begins to dial 911. “Hello, 911, what’s your emergency?” The voice on the other end speaks quickly and coolly, it’s the voice of a professional and seasoned dispatcher who’s heard everything and knows every code in the book. “Yes hello there’s been a murder well actually there’s been two we’re on the side of the road we’ve been kidnapped and there’s a monster eating our friend in the woods please send help “ “I’m sorry but this line is for real emergencies not your juvenile prank calls thank you and please dont call back”
*click*
Dismayed and a little irritated Tom starts to put his phone away before taking it back out and deciding he was going to find out what exactly they were up against, he googles monsters in Maine and after scrolling through ads for monster energy drinks he finds a site that claims to document Maine cryptids and phenomenas, he clicks on it and begins scrolling trying to find a monster that resembles what they saw, he finally finds it down at the bottom of the list
“The Wendigo” the paragraph reads, after reading about the history of Wendigos in Maine and other nearby states he’s now certain of what they’re up against, he exits the site and simply types in “Wendigo weakness’”in the search bar, silver bullets and daggers are among the most common weapons used to kill a Wendigo but also at the top of the list is fire “Fires good” he thinks to himself “we can start a fire we can burn the whole goddamn forest down i don’t care just so long as it kills that cursed beast”. The girls whose hug had now dispersed were standing on either side of him looking over his shoulders and reading silently. “Have you called for help?” Heather asks, “Yes, and none is coming,” replies Tom, “I believe it’s up to us to destroy this thing if we want to survive.”
“How do we do that?” Asks Jamie
“With fire, lots of fire”
“Where are we going to get lots of fire from exactly?”
“I’ve got an idea.”
Tom tries the door and lets out a sigh of relief when he discovers they’re unlocked, opening them he begins fumbling through the various compartments. He finds a lighter, a Swiss Army knife, a pack of cigarettes with only one cigarette missing and a spray bottle of Windex along with some rags. He pops the trunk and as he opens the trunk to find Elvis’ dead body inside he’s not even phased he carefully and with as much dignity as he can try to muster takes Elvis’ body out of the trunk to see what he can find in there, there’s a case of 6 unopened glass bottles of Coca Cola, an emergency poncho, spare tire, tire iron (slightly bent and soaked in blood), first aid kit and an empty Jerry can.
He lays out the supplies alongside the body, and as the wheels inside his head spin, he begins to set his plan in motion. The girls empty the Coca-Cola and Windex spray bottles at Tom’s request. Meanwhile, Tom lies under the car with the Swiss Army knife in one hand. The Jerry can in the other, as he crawls under the vehicle, he is relieved to see it has a plastic gas tank like most other modern vehicles, he takes out the knife and stabs it into the tank's soft underbelly. As the gas gushes out, he directs it into the Jerry can. Once it’s full, he retreats from under the vehicle and gets to his feet holding the knife, and now full Jerry can. Gasoline is still coming out from under the vehicle, although nobody is bothered by it. When the puddle reaches their feet, they move a few steps further away. “Okay, so here’s the plan,” says Tom, and he lays out his ideas.
“One of us will have to be bait two of us will have to trigger the trap, whoever’s bait will lure the Wendigo into a clearing where the other two will be waiting with the bottles of Coca Cola full of gas, rags stuffed in the top and once the Wendigo is close we’ll light them and throw them on the Wendigo
The homemade Molotov cocktail bombs should be enough to kill it; whoever is bait will also have the Windex bottle full of gas and will spray the Wendigo down with it just for extra measure.”
“Do you think this will work?” Jamie asks sceptically, “Honestly, I don’t know, but this is all I’ve got, and I think it’s worth a shot.”
Reluctantly, the group begins to prepare the Molotovs, and everyone's mind is asking the same question “Who is going to be the bait? As they work in silence, Tom speaks out, “I’ll do it.”
“What?” asks Heather. “I’ll do it. I’ll be the bait. I’m the man here. Call me old-fashioned, but I believe this is a man’s job.”
“Fine by me” pipes in Jamie to Heathers surprise, “man’s job or not I can’t lose you what if this goes wrong? Im not saying I wanna be bait but I don’t want you to be bait either” replies Heather “I love you and I respect that but it’s something I have to do and it’ll all be okay I promise” Tom says half believing the words he’s saying. The group ventures back out into the woods and splits into two groups, the girls with the Molotovs and Tom with the Windex bottle and gun in hand. He isn’t quite sure how to summon the Wendigo or even where the best place to do it is, but he figures the clearing where they first found the carvings is as good a spot as any, even if he doesn’t fully remember how to get back there. After 20 minutes of stumbling through the brush, they come across the clearing, and Tom stands in the middle of the clearing as the girls hide out of sight, bottles at the ready
The wendigo has finished devouring Zac and is on its way back to its nest when it’s finely tuned ears hear movement nearby it begins to start off in that direction and follows the noise to the brink of a clearing, it crouches low along the bushes and winces in pain, it has been shot four times and although none of them are fatal wounds they still cause a great deal of pain and discomfort, it sees the man holding the gun and a bottle of some sort and senses a trap, while it begins to debate leaving before the trap can be sprung the man notices the Wendigo and fires a round off at it, the bullet ricochets off a branch near the Wendigos head the Wendigo sees red and acts out of pure malice and fury at the unprovoked attack and begins galloping towards the man with the gun as he gets within 50feet of him the man begins firing shots off into the Wendigo,the Wendigo is winded with each shot that strikes deep into the pelt and as purple blood oozes dark from the punctures it is in a state of pure blood lust, the man drops the empty revolver and begins to spray the Wendigo with the spray bottle; it smells fragrant and crude and the Wendigo winces at the odour then the man yells “NOW!” And suddenly from the side he sees sparks that grow into small flames and suddenly those tiny flickering flames fly through the air and as the Molotov cocktails break and shatter and spread the sticky burning gasoline all over the Wendigo it lets out a blood curdling scream as it becomes engulfed in flames, It spins disoriented unsure of which direction to lash out in, it crumples into a ball with its lanky arms over its head trying to shield itself from the pervasive fire but its no use the gasoline has sunk deep into the thick fur pelt and it burns deep as the Wendigo is burned away the boy inside the beast is in great pain but also feels an incredible array of emotions as he knows it will all be over he feels sadness at the fact that he’ll never feel redemption but he feels relief at the fact that he’ll never kill or eat another person again he is happy to see the Wendigo defeated even if he shares in its fate and as his soul dies and the Wendigos spirit exits the body in the form of a sea of black flies the Wendigos body reverts back to the image of a man even if only for a moment and that man is smiling as it feels free for the first time in a very long time.
The three of them look on in shock and horror as they watch the writhing creature burn. They could almost swear for a moment before it’s all over that the Wendigo was a mere man, but the flickering image of a smiling man is soon consumed by fire. Then a sea of black flies erupts from the flames and takes flight into the night, all that remains is a sticky, foul-smelling patch of burnt flesh and fur with bits of bone fragments and what they can only assume are organ shards, as they watch the grass around the patch that was on fire slowly burn out they are plunged once more into the darkness of the night however it’s no longer as dark as it once was, the moon permeates through the trees and the stars twinkle and shine brightly in a way that they didn’t at the beginning of the night, its as if a dark cloudy veil has been lifted from the forest. They know the road ahead is one of grief and pain, they know they will have a million questions to answer and still require help and salvation from the side of the highway but deep down they know in the end everything will be okay and in some ways that’s the shittiest thing in the world, Rusty, Elvis and Zac are dead. Nothing will ever bring back Zac; his light is extinguished from the world, and his parents won’t even believe what happened, but that’s all an issue to deal with in the near future; for now, they’ve got each other. They’re okay physically, and sometimes that’s all you can get from a world that spins on at a million miles an hour without the slightest care for human plights and suffering. Sometimes bad things happen to good people. Maybe those religious nuts are right; maybe it is refining, like turning coal into diamonds.
