Chapter Eight
The Non-date Date
I looked at the entrance caught in the car’s headlights. The trench, the steep graded hill, the straggly branches of evergreen, all just as I remembered. It dawned on me to turn on the high beams so we could see deeper into the trees. The place was dead silent. It wasn’t as frightening as I remembered. If anything, it was sad and pathetic, like it wanted to die but couldn’t.
“It’s creepy. Blackie Wilson’s house is down there?”
“It was, the city may have torn it down. From what I heard last, it was on the verge of collapse.” Melissa took back my arm. You have a girlfriend.
“Thank you for taking me.” She squeezed my arm, placing her head on my shoulder.
“I wonder if they got the skull out?” I asked.
“Who, your friends?”
“Yeah.”
Melissa smiled at me. “Someday you’ll find out.”
Here was a chance to reclaim a fraction of my manhood. “You want to take a closer peek?”
Melissa gave me a look of utter disbelief. “Are you serious?” Her fingers tightened around my arm.
“Are you scared? Ooooh.” I wiggled my fingers at her.
“From the stories you’ve told me. Yes, yes I am. I don’t want to end up a lamp shade.”
“Just to the entrance. See if we see anything inside.”
“What about the Dwellers?” Melissa asked.
“We have light, I brought plenty.”
“How’d you know…?”
“I’m always prepared.”
Melissa made a nervous laugh. “I don’t know…”
“Come on, I’m with you.” I cringed at the stupid comment. “We can leave the headlights on.”
“You’ll stay with me?”
“Cross my heart. Any sign of trouble, we’re blazing a trail. If you draw your attention to the front of the car, you will see I have already strategically placed the wheels for a clean getaway.”
She looked out at the trees. “Let’s do it.”
“Shit, I forgot about your heels, nevermind.”
“I’ll leave ’em.” Melissa began slipping them off.
“I have to grab the lights out of the trunk. Can I borrow your flashlight?” Melissa handed it to me. I left my door open with the keys in the ignition. She trailed my every move. I shone the flashlight on anything I found suspicious, making several scanning circles. What I found was what I counted on; bushes, dirt, posts of barbed wire and the trees. With a wary eye, I lifted the trunk and retrieved two camping lanterns.
It was then that I heard steps coming out of the dark. My light beam drew to my right. I saw a dark figure come running at me from around the car. I stood paralyzed. Melissa wrapped around me.
“Couldn’t wait?”
“Nope.”
I tried to create distance by handing her a lantern so she couldn’t feel my heart pounding. The night brightened in a white florescent glow. I touched the bag in my pocket, closing the trunk. I took her hand and tossed her flashlight in the car as we made cautious, measured steps toward the entrance. I had left the car open and glaring headlights on. “Watch the trench.” I shone my light on it. I didn’t recall it as deep as it was. “I’ll climb up, then help you,” I said.
“Okay.”
I scaled the steep incline to the top, doing my best not to scuff my dad’s dress shoes. I grounded myself, swaying my light over the depth of the entrance. My gaze sunk into its deep-rooted reaches.
The terrifying memories of these baleful trees summoning me to their death call was appearing to have been over-exaggerated head fantasies. The place was eerie, no doubt. The shadows made a thousand misconstrued fancies and, given its history, it was not a place to be toyed with. I just couldn’t ignore the pleasant scent of woody resin, the calm droopiness of the trees, and a path littered with Mother Nature and transient trash. The tranquil path did not resemble the narrow, suffocating, yellow swirling horror I had memorized. It was wider, brighter and sparser than recollected with no clouds of dirt. I had a private laugh at my expense. Could it be that I imagined the Dwellers? What about the power outage, was that in your head? What was it Bruce said I had, peramizia?
Turn off your light and find out.
Are you crazy, no way.
He’s wrong and you want to believe he’s right.
I went to assist Melissa. “Melissa?” She was gone. I looked over at the car, she wasn’t in it. My heart dropped in a whirl of the light. “Melissa!”
“Over here.” I caught her white dress through straggly limbs, bounding down the path between two trees. “You won’t believe what I found, come here.”
“How did you get up?”
“The same way you did, silly. Come check this out.”
Keep your voice down. I couldn’t have missed her, could I? I went after her full-tilt, intending on leaving.
What are you scared of?
Quiet! “Whatever it is, it can wait for daylight. We should leave. The keys are in the car unattended. We can come back tomorrow.”
She slipped from between the trees, beckoning me to silence. Her gentle hands glided around me. I took a wary look around. The place was restful but eerily shadowed. “Let’s take it to the car,” I said.
Her body crawled on me, the smell of watermelon was strong. Her sweet red lips pressed to mine. I placed the lantern down and our tongues coiled, tasting one another’s sweet flavors. She guided my hand down the curves of her dress, over her breast and I grazed her erect nipple. My hand went down over her tensing stomach to the smoothness of her legs. She fastened my index finger to my middle finger, lifting them through the narrow passage between her legs. I felt the tender wetness of her vagina. She slipped the fingers inside her with care, moaning in pleasure as her warm lubricant coated them. She then guided me up the slit of her pussy to its peak, making circular motions on the fold.
“I want you to fuck me.”
“Let’s take it back to the car.”
“No, take me here.”
A brightness penetrated my eyelids and my arms fell. My eyes opened to the impacting glare of florescent lighting. My hand raised to deflect what it could. “Why are you ditching me?” The watermelon smell was replaced by a smell of rotten apples. I started spitting, finding my mouth full of dirt. “Melissa?” I said, when I could speak.
She emerged, trembling from behind the light. “You said you would stay with me.” She was hugging herself, fresh with tears.
“What are you talking about? You just – what was I – wasn’t I just holding you?”
“What do you mean?” The tears took a break, sensing something more serious at play.
“Answer me. Was I just holding you a second ago?”
“No, you called me and I couldn’t find you.”
I recoiled in horror, my eyes darting around for who or what I held. My brain searched for a suitable explanation. I knew it wouldn’t find one. The trees darkened, looming over us. Their spiky branches seemed to reach down, invigorated. I snatched my lantern and stole Melissa by the arm.
“That wasn’t me.”
My heart stampeded. What-if you’re holding another fake Melissa? The emeralds of her eyes caught my fearful glance and it occurred to me that I hadn’t seen the other Melissa’s eyes because they were disguised by the dark. It’s her. A loud twig snapped underfoot. I thought it was my spine. I was not about to look back. We trained our sights on the exit, running as one body.
Goat’s Head summoned me. I could feel its call. My ears sharpened to where I could have heard ants. The Dwellers were moving towards us, their rustling on nature’s floor was many. “Move,” I said, pulling Melissa’s shorter legs.
“I am.”
“Stop soldier! No man left behind!”
“Wait for us guys!” The disembodied voices belonged to Jarrod and Ethan. My brain conjured disturbing images of what followed. We reached the ledge of the crest.
Inasmuch power as I could muster in a decision of terror driven desperation, I scooped Melissa in my arms and leapt across the trench. We barely crossed the opening in a rib smash landing where I took a digger. Melissa fell from my arms, as did my lantern. She was quick to get back to her feet, but I could not match her pace or catch my breath. She assisted me to the car, tossing her lantern in the backseat. “I’m good, get in,” I said.
“Freakin’ Mee-yamee face!” Jarrod’s voice yelled. I watched her get in before closing my door, afraid to look directly into the treeline. “Mee-yamee face!” Jarrod’s voice etched in my mind. I locked the doors. Melissa was pale and visibly shaken. She held herself in a bear hug, her dress torn and covered in debris. I was on the gas when my head rang from her scream. An old man was at Melissa’s window rapping the door handle. The window thudded from his head banging it, caught in the pull of the car. The man in the red robe was joined by a crowd of ugly people leaping onto the hood, all wearing red robes. Men and women, twisted and staring sickly at us, painting a deadly earnest picture of their intentions. I smacked the shit out of the undercarriage to shake them off.
What-if you get stuck?
Fuck off!
“Leave us alone!” Melissa yelled.
We could hear hoots, wicked laughs, and hollers from all around the car. Get to Carter. The Grand Prix’s suspension reared the brutality of the road. The Watcher’s voices faded.
Excerpted from Goat’s Head © Brian Lupo, 2019
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