There was a breeze whispering through the pines as the light of the sun slipped behind the mountains. Crickets and frogs sang along with the chorus of the night and somewhere in the distance a fox prowled through the underbrush in search of a meal. A thin layer of mist drifted down through the branches and a light, barely visible, fog blanketed the forest floor. The moon was trying to break through the dense cloud cover but only a dim glow managed to escape before being swallowed by the darkness once more.
The Lowe road was an old dirt trail with deep ruts that was rarely traveled even during the day. It was once a vital artery which led into the small mill village of Lakewood. At one time the road was lined with houses and families up until the sixties when the highway came through. Most families had moved away long ago leaving only rotting shells of their past. It had become known as “The Timber Cemetery” due to the massive numbers of old buildings left there to die. Most had collapsed due to the severe weather of winter, however a few more structurally sound dwellings remained. The Lowe road was always a popular stop for teenagers to test the four wheel drives after heavy rains had filled the ruts with thick soupy mud. Halloween was also a time for it to shine. Late at night the woods would be filled with young boys who whispered tales of ghosts, strange creatures and dares.
Perhaps there were ghosts who called the Lowe road home, floating within the deserted dilapidated remains of some old homestead. If this lonely stretch of mountain road was in fact haunted, the ghosts froze and held their breath along with all of the other night creatures.
A pair of headlights peaked and bounced over the hill. An engine was revving loudly and tore through the night like a load of buckshot. The 1972 pickup shook violently and sprayed thick curtains of mud onto the tree trunks. Inside two young men howled with drunken excitement.
Daniel and Edward Everson had grown up in Lakewood. They were most commonly known for being holy terrors, even in their younger years. Some people say that it all began around the time old Miss Hill had spanked them for playing with her late husband’s old wheelchair. It wasn’t long before the two stole the chair and burned it in their backyard. The revenge was sweet and addicting.
Daniel was the oldest at twenty-one, but Edward was the first to loose his license for DUI at the tender age of seventeen.
“Hey!” yelled Edward.
“What?”
“HEY!”
“WHAT?” Daniel shouted.
“Stop, I gotta take a piss.”
Daniel slammed his foot down hard on the brake. The inertia sent his brother to a hard stop on the dash. Edward laughed victoriously.
“Fuck, man that hurt. You asshole you almost made me piss myself.” whined Edward who, during his meeting with the dash, actually had sprayed almost half of his bladder into his jeans.
As he stepped out onto the dirt he grabbed the door to steady himself against the booze. His hands met the cold damp of his pants and made him grimace. That’s just fucking great. I’ll never live this down he thought.
Daniel stomped on the accelerator and peeled forward.
“HEY!” Edward shouted and took off after the ’72
He could hear the fading laughter of his brother as he ran, still pissing and adding to the wetness. “You fucking prick!”
The truck stopped suddenly as Edward jogged and fumbled his pecker back inside. He was close enough to see the grinning face of his brother who had cracked open a fresh beer.
Edward released a slurred, but creative, string of curses at his tormentor. When the passenger door popped open and the overhead light came on Daniel could see the dark, wet jeans. The zipper was halfway up and the strong scent of urine flooded the cab.
“Are you crazy? There is no way I’m letting you in my truck like that.”
“Oh fuck y…”
Before Edward could finish speaking Daniel floored the truck again. It shot forward into the darkness even further this time and finally came to a stop about fifty feet away.
In the truck Daniel slammed down the rest of the beer in three large gulps. He tossed the empty can from the window and laughed so hard tears were forming in the corners of his eyes. After a few moments he had calmed himself and waited for the return of “Pissy.” He leaned close to the window and listened, there was no loud curses, no footsteps, not even the sounds bugs or frogs. It even seemed as if the wind had halted.
After a few minutes of silence Daniel popped open the driver’s door and stepped out. There was no sign of his brother in the taillights. Did the stupid fuck pass out? Maybe he finally got pissed and decided to walk home. Daniel could feel a chuckle building in his throat but quickly choked it off.
He began walking back to where he had left his brother, expecting at any moment to find him lying out cold in the road.
There was only emptiness.
Daniel paused and looked, in vain, into the darkness. He wished he would have thought to bring the flashlight from the glove box. Upon remembering the light he decided to return to the truck. After taking a few steps he could hear the sound of the truck’s powerful V8 engine rev to life.
“Hey!” he yelled, but before he could utter another sound the truck’s tires spun wildly in the dirt and took off down the road at high speed.
“Very funny asshole!” he screamed. The truck did not slow down as it veered off the roadway and crashed hard into a massive oak tree.
“What the fuck is wrong with you man?”
No wonder he got caught for DUI. Despite how well built the ’72 was it was trashed. The front end had caved in like a paper cup. The radiator hissed angrily and shot steam in all directions.
Another sound caught Daniel’s attention, a raspy gurgling sound coming from the bumper of the truck. He raced to the cab and opened the passenger door. The light revealed only an empty seat and a large stone resting on the accelerator. What? Where is he? He fumbled through the glove box and wrapped his shaking fingers around the cold shaft of the flashlight.
The sounds came again, louder this time, from the rear of the truck. Daniel ran to investigate. What he saw lying on the ground caused hot bile to rise up his throat. He could not stop the eruption of vomit. The beam of the flashlight remained on the horror tied to the bumper, the wrecked shredded body of Edward Everson.
Edward had what looked to be vines wrapped tightly around his neck. The rough edges had carved deep gashes into his flesh causing blood to pour like tiny rivers. The raspy gurgling sound was from bubbles rising and dying from the destroyed windpipe. Another length of vine was wrapped to the bumper and the one remaining foot.
Daniel screamed as he saw the ripped crumpled form, which used to be his brother, take its last shallow breath. He dropped the flashlight as he fell to his knees and continued to scream.
He never saw the dark figure standing behind him or the other countless sets of eyes that watched from the cover of darkness. Some held heavy sticks and rocks while others held onto the arms of younger figures. All watched in anticipation and craving the fresh meat that would soon fill their hungry stomachs.
The figure behind Daniel raised a massive hand and sent a heavy fist crashing down upon his skull.
Before Daniel died, he pissed himself.
If there were in fact ghosts residing in the remnants of the decaying homes, they were afraid of the dark men on the Lowe road.
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