I felt the immense unknown behind me. I whirled around to the other side. I hadn’t heard anything but had that feeling that you get when you’re watching a scary movie and the person goes into the dark room without checking the corners or behind them. You know that the minute you focus too much on what’s in front of you, something comes up and snatches you from behind.
To say I was terrified was an understatement. My arms and legs were tingling with a mad case of goose bumps. My breath was getting shorter by the second. I didn’t want to stay in that forest a second longer, but the open plain and roaring ocean didn’t seem like a great alternative.
The only thing I could suss out was that this path in the woods was, in fact, a road. I crouched down and examined the leaves. There were faint marks of muddy tire tracks on some parts of them and the path was wide enough for a car to drive down.
Maybe if I followed the road away from the beach, I would come across a main road or, even better yet, a house. Then I could call my uncle and get picked up.
But who was I kidding? Why didn’t I just call my uncle right now?
Excited, I carefully placed the lamp back on the dead tree’s limb and fished out my phone. I could call him to explain what happened and where I thought I was and everything would be fine.
Then there was Dex. I should probably wait around and see if I could find him. Better yet, I could call him too.
I dialed Dex’s cell number and put the phone to my ear.
It rang twice, then a click.
“Who is this?”
My blood ran cold. The voice belonged to a woman. She sounded like an old Ingrid Bergman.
“Hello? Is...Dex...Declan Foray there?” I asked, heart in my throat.
“No. He’s not,” the woman answered slowly.
“I—I’m sorry. I must have gotten the wrong number.” I looked around me and pulled my coat in closer against the darkness.
“It’s not the wrong number, dear. He can’t talk right now,” she drawled on, her voice sounding rather...wicked.
Ridiculous, I told myself. You dial the wrong number because it’s dark out, and you’re in the middle of a storm in the woods, and you get some old woman on the line who just wants to talk.
“You’re right. I do want to talk,” the woman continued. “That’s why I called.”
Had I just said that all out loud? I put my head to my forehead. It was clammy with cold sweat.
“I called you,” I said, barely above a whisper. “I’m sorry. I was calling for my friend Dex and I got the wrong number.”
I quickly hung up and stared at the phone for a few seconds. It was my familiar iPhone, filled with music and useless applications, but it felt alien to me.
I was about to press the home button to dial my uncle when my sight began to dim. I looked to the lamp; the flame was going out.
“No!” I yelled and plucked it off the tree. I frantically turned the knob, hoping it would release more gas or wax, or whatever was inside. If it didn’t, in a few seconds I would be alone in the dark again.
My actions did nothing. But just as the flame was almost extinguished, I saw something move out of the corner of my eye.
I looked to my left. There was another lamp further down the road. It flickered just as the one I was holding went out for good.
I didn’t know how it happened to be alight like that. I didn’t know if there was someone down there who turned it on. Perhaps that person had been hiding in the trees the whole time, watching me. Maybe it was the old woman on the phone.
I shuddered at my morbid thoughts. I could either stand in the dark thinking about it, or I could move towards the light. At least in the light I could see what was trying to kill me. I know there was no indication that someone was trying to kill me, but whatever was going on was not normal, to say the very least. And my imagination and adrenaline were on maximum overdrive. I could almost feel a hand reaching out of the dark behind me and grasping my....
I didn’t finish that thought. I ran toward the next lamp until I was plucking it off the tree.
It was the same as the other lamp. The tree was the same as the previous tree. Had I ran around in a circle?
No, that was impossible. Thinking about it made my head spin. Lack of thought would serve me well and preserve my sanity.
With the lamp dangling from one hand, I decided to follow the road while I could and get the fuck out of there.
I plowed forward through the heavy woods of wet fir and dying oak trees, musty smells rising up with each step I took. The path ahead shook with the sway of the lamp. The way curved and I was soon able to make out the depression that could have only been created by tires. My internal navigation system was placing me as heading northeast, which was the direction of Uncle Al’s and exactly where I wanted to go.
I didn’t even care if I left Dex alone on the beach. For all I knew, he could be back at the house waiting for me. Or not waiting for me and playing video games. Or back at his motel room talking to his hot girlfriend on the phone.
That last thought made me angry and I was happy about it. It was better to stew like a jilted teenager over Dex than it was to fully grasp the terrifying situation I was in.
I ran for what seemed like a couple of minutes, the road steadily curving into the dimness. Then, like before, the flame started to go out again.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” I screamed, the strength of my voice surprising me. It was embarrassing in a way, yet I still hoped that someone was nearby to hear it.
I shook the lamp back and forth, screaming, “Fuuuuuck! Fuck you, lamp!”
Terror and temper at an all time high, I took the lamp and threw it as hard as I could against a tree. The glass smashed everywhere and flickers of flame splayed out onto the leaves and roots. For a minute there it looked like the whole tree would go up in flames; something that wouldn’t be all that bad. A forest fire would at least attract attention. But in the end, the leaves were just too wet and all light faded.
Tears formed at the back of my eyes. I wanted to crawl up into a ball and cry my eyes out. My heart was stressed, my limbs felt numb, and I wasn’t sure how much more horror I could take. I was lost in the woods, in the dark, with nowhere to turn.
The blackness was disorienting as well. Dizzy, I put my hand out for a tree to support me. But my hand hit something that was more soft than solid. Soft and warm. Like wool. Like a sweater. Like someone wearing a sweater.
My hand was on someone’s chest.
I screamed, retracted my hand, and started booking it down the path as fast as I could.
I was running blind. The ground was undulating and I could have smashed face first into a tree at any moment, but somehow my feet kept moving, one foot in front of the other. Before I knew it, I felt the wind in my face, the taste of salt in the air and wet grass beneath me.
Though it was in the opposite direction of where I was certain the road was leading, I was on the plateau again, where the lighthouse should be. I kept running until my feet started to slip; I instinctively knew I was near the edge.
I stopped, not a moment too soon, and put my weight back on my heels. If the wind wasn’t there, whipping off the waves and pushing me back, I probably would have gone over.
I could see the gleam on the crests of the waves below and grasped the height of the cliff as it dropped beneath me. I took in the deepest breath I could and said a silent prayer, willing myself not to think about what had just happened. Now that I was out of the woods, so to speak, and had found the coast, all I had to do was follow it with the ocean to the left of me, and there was no doubt I would come across my uncle’s house.
I exhaled and turned north, ready to jog back.
A light came on beside me. It slowly flickered to life in the empty dark.
I cautiously turned my head to my right and saw the lamp—that same oil lamp I had just smashed to ground moments earlier—floating beside me in mid-air.
But I knew better.
The lamp lowered and a face came into my view, lit up by the flickering glow. It was the face of a forgotten man. Dead and bloated. Skin was peeling off in oozing chunks; tiny lice crawled out of its ears and nose. I had seen that face before in my darkest nightmares. And now it was right in front of me.
“You dropped this,” it said, a low growl from its lipless mouth.
Whatever strength I had left at that moment, I used all of it to turn and run.
I made it several feet before the ground abruptly gave way, and I found myself airborne. I landed hard on the slope and tumbled down in dizzying circles.
Churning, rolling, falling and falling forever.
Until something broke my fall.
Someone.
They screamed.
I screamed.
I had crashed into them at full speed and was launched again, finally coming to a painful rest on top of a dune. My hipbone bore the brunt of my weight and I let out a yelp at the pain.
“Perry!” A voice yelled. It was also low and deep. I remembered why I was running in the first place. The face of that skinless, pussing man was everywhere inside my head.
I opened my eyes and tried to get to my feet as quickly as I could when a pair of arms came out from the night and grabbed me.
“Perry!”
It sounded like Dex. Oh God, I prayed it was Dex.
“Jesus, Perry. Are you OK?” It was Dex. He was on his knees leaning over me.
“It’s me,” I managed to say meekly. I could barely speak.