The Splendor of Fear Read online

  The utter loathsomeness of the specter was overwhelming to me. My body spasmed as my muscles activated to engage in a run, but my mind was too scattered to give the order and I just stood there, paralyzed. And I stared. I shouldn't have—could hardly stomach it—but I looked into those cloudy eyes of hers, the eyes of a corpse, as she approached. Beyond the milky veneer afforded by death, there was a darkness in those eyes unlike any other—a darkness whose nearest kin was the abundance of living shadow within the trees. I knew then that the woods and this monstrous entity were made of the same stuff, one in spirit, and that her influence had invaded the entirety of these woods like an invasive root.

  The specter continued towards us, her joints popping and papery lips hissing. The shattered jaw, demolished so many years previously by the hammer blows of her conquerors, jumbled about as her grimace tightened, almost as though she were holding marbles in her cheeks. She was capable of running, of speech, but she neither ran nor spoke. She simply walked towards us from across the lot, perhaps savoring in the slack-jawed fear she inspired.

  I'd had my fill of it and could take no more. “Come on,” I blurted, holding my arms out. “Just finish it, then. You've tortured us all night. I'm tired of it. Just end it, already. Do it. What are you waiting for?”

  Jared shuddered at my words, and I felt him grasp one of my wrists as I broke away from him. “Penny, don't. Let's go.”

  I pulled my arm away. “What's the sense in running?” I asked. “Let her have her way. I'm so tired of running. Can't we stop now? Wouldn't it be easier if we didn't put up a fight?”

  Suddenly, my feet left the ground. Disoriented, I found myself in Jared's arms. He was carrying me off, back towards the footpath—to the campsites, the woods—as quickly as he could manage. Through a static wince, he rushed me out of the parking lot and away from the staring specter. As we went, I peered over his shoulder and saw Ellie had vanished from sight—a thing that made me laugh uneasily. Maybe she'd never been there at all; maybe my brain had turned to soup.

  Feeling utterly drained, I buried my face against Jared's neck and then urged him to let me down.

  “You're scaring me,” he said, carrying me another several paces before acquiescing. If he'd been stronger then, he probably would have carried me well into the park.

  I got my feet under me and paused at the center of the path, surveying the woods for signs of the witch. Her smell remained in the air; the smell of meat left to sweeten in the sun, but no other trace remained. “I'm OK,” I insisted. “I'm just so tired.”

  “Come on,” he said, taking my hand. “We've got to go.”

  “Where?” I asked. “There's nowhere to hide. She'll keep hounding us.”

  He shook his head fervently. “No, I refuse to believe that. There's got to be a way out of this. I'll die trying to find it—I sure as hell won't offer us up on a silver platter, anyway. You mentioned seeing her in a strange clearing in the woods before. You're going to take me to it.”

  I looked down the path, parts of it impenetrably dark, and visualized the succession of landmarks that would get us back to that strange, lonely spot where the ground was cracked and the trees were deformed. We'd have to pass our camp, walk upstream, ford the creek and then wander along its opposite bank. If we found it at all, it would be a walk of some miles.

  “What good will it do?” I asked.

  “Do you have any other ideas? We can't just stand around and wait for her.”

  I had no great resistance to this exploration of his, except that I was tired of disappointment. Hope had been yanked away from me so many times that night; I wasn't sure I could bear another let-down. I surrendered, trusted him, but feared it would amount to nothing. “It's going to take us a bit to get there. This way.”

  Twenty

  “I don't know what I'll do if this doesn't work,” uttered Jared as we started back into the park.

  He was speaking for both of us. What we presumed to be at the heart of this curse, the witch's final resting place, might hold some answers, might offer some way to break free of these woods and return to ordinary life. Then again, after having faced so many dead-ends, the possibility that we were on the verge of still another disappointment seemed as likely as anything.

  Whatever the end, we left the lonely parking lot and started up the path, re-entering the shadowed channels we'd spent the whole night navigating. Though I'd walked this stretch numerous times by now, felt somewhat familiar with it, I still looked around with a vague distrust for the scenery and a feeling that it was all on the verge of slipping away, like a shoddy mask, to reveal something horrific lurking beneath. Judging by the way his eyes panned continuously to the right and left, I assumed Jared felt the same.

  We didn't talk much. There wasn't a whole lot to say. We might have complained about the mucky paths, or the cold; might have rehashed the utter unfairness of the situation and cursed the name of Ellie Pomeroy, but we didn't. We saved what little energy we had for this final search. Holding hands and taking what comfort we could from one another, we trudged on silently, our senses combing the vast outdoors for data.

  We struck out past the restrooms and hurried back towards our camp. Upon our arrival at site M, the two of us were stunned to find everything intact, just as we'd left it—Hours? Days?—before. We hesitated there for some minutes, not sure whether we could trust the spot, but our nervous examinations of the tent and supplies yielded nothing suspect. He took a few minutes to rummage through his things, pocketing certain items he thought might come in handy, and abandoning the rest.

  While I sat resting at the picnic table, Jared gathered up every remaining scrap of non-perishable food and drink we'd brought along and carried it over. For the next ten minutes we made a meal of granola bars, trail mix, beef jerky and beer. Hungry though I was, I didn't take any real satisfaction from the food. I just shoveled it in, my body screaming for the calories. When we'd reached the end of the pile and had nothing but empty cans and wrappers left, Jared rose and nodded towards the creek with a burp.

  We were on the move again.

  “What did you grab?” I asked him, wondering if he'd found anything useful in the tent.

  He went through his pockets, showing me an assortment of items. He'd brought a small folding knife, a pouch full of first-aid supplies and—most excitingly—his cell phone. He tapped the home button of the thing, and it lit up. “It's still got some juice,” he said, shaking it, “but I can't seem to get a reception. I tried to in the tent, but there's nothing. Maybe the curse is affecting that, too.”

  Even if we couldn't use it just then, I felt immense relief knowing he had a working phone on his person. “It'll come in handy,” I said hopefully. “When this is over, we can call for help.”

  He smiled tightly and nodded, but they were inauthentic movements. Beneath the cheer, his expression was that of a man who doubted. Since we'd arrived, his facial hair had really come in. The density of his stubble was greater than anything I'd ever seen on him before. It sharpened his jawline, and the veneer of grime he wore across his face made him look especially manly—a lankier version of Schwarzenegger in Predator.

  Meanwhile, I hadn't seen myself in quite some time. I doubted that this outing had been as generous to my looks as it had been to his. I felt my tangled hair, could feel dried mud clinging to my cheeks and neck. My hands were raw and sore, and my nails were ringed with thick lines of dirt. I wondered if I'd ever have the luxury of a shower again. Though I'd poo-pood it on the way in, I'd have gladly taken an icy camping shower then, if only to cleanse all of this filth.

  It wasn't just the filth on the outside I had to worry about, though.

  We put the camp behind us, approached the creek, and I got to wondering whether life could ever return to normal if we somehow made it out of here. How would it feel to get into a car, to make the five-hour drive across State lines as if returning from a run-of-the-mill vacation? Moving forward, what would Jared and I discuss in the mornings
over cereal—quaint things like the weather, or the time we got lost in these cursed woods? The idea of going back to our place in Moorlake didn't offer me any comfort. All of our things there, all the vestiges of our old life, would feel too alien now. How could one sit down to enjoy a book or watch TV, knowing what I knew? The fantastical things we'd seen here would trump any fiction.

  Jared strode along the creek, staring down into the water as he passed. The flow remained steady and reasonably calm. We were going to be able to cross it; he had only to decide where. “How far would you say it is?” he asked me.

  I hadn't really judged the distance; when I'd discovered that odd clearing, I'd been chased off by the witch in a hurry and had been running for my life. “I'm not sure,” I admitted, “but it's going to be near a slight incline.” I recalled the way I'd slid downhill in my previous flight to the creek. “If I had to guess, I'd say it was a mile upstream.”

  “All right,” was all he said before pursing his lips and falling back into deep thought.

  The silence was getting to me. If I didn't strike up a conversation, no matter how stupid, I was going to get lost in my own head. “What will we do when we get there?” I asked him. “Suppose that is her final resting spot, or whatever? Will we dig her up?”

  “Probably,” he replied cooly.

  How he intended to do that without a shovel was a mystery to me, but I didn't argue with him. “It was a strange thing, that clearing. Everything looked dead or dying—and not in the autumny sort of way. The trees looked sick, and the soil seemed really dry, even though it had rained. I watched her get down on the ground, where she curled up like an animal.”

  “Huh, maybe it's her home, then,” he speculated. “Maybe she feels safe there.” Jared grinned—it was a toothy, vicious grin. “If that's the case, I can't wait to meet her there. Let's see how she likes being hounded.” The grin didn't stay long, probably because he remembered what we were up against.

  The further we walked, the more anxious I became about the impending encounter. Would she be waiting there for us? Could she be reasoned with, or would she go on the offensive? So far, she hadn't actually harmed either of us—not in any direct way—but her manipulation of the woods, her ability to make nightmares real, was not to be minimized. “What will we do when we find her?” I asked, desperate to keep the chatter going. Unable to predict how things would go, I wanted to feel secure in a plan.

  “Kick her ass, obviously.” Jared's smile dissipated in record time. “I dunno. If she's up for talking, we can talk. Not that I'll be inclined to believe anything she says.” He tapped at his cheek. “Maybe she wants those nails out so that she can speak more freely, eh? Or maybe she's a needy ghost that wants someone to find her grave and body—wants a proper burial.” He studied the bank closely, hands in his pockets. “I'll give her whatever she wants, so long as it gets us out of here.”

  Across the creek, I noticed a slight upward sloping in the terrain. “There,” I said, tugging at his sleeve. “I think that might be the spot. We'll have to go past the treeline a little, up the hill and across it. But that looks about right.”

  He nodded solemnly and measured the distance across the creek with his gaze. “Just jump. Don't worry if you get a little wet. Wet clothes are the least of our worries right now.” He bent at the knees, and gave his sore one a brief massage with the heel of his palm. “I'll go first. No matter how I do it, it's gonna be a doozy.” Taking a few steps back, Jared drew in a steadying breath and then rushed towards the water.

  The moment he landed on the other bank—awkwardly, but safely—I lunged forward and did the same. The top of my boot skimmed across the muddy water and I landed upon the moist ground with a clop. The earth was so slick that I began to slip down to the water on my abdomen, but Jared managed to grab my wrists and haul me into the grass before I did. We took a short breather there and then moved on.

  Using the trees to steady ourselves, Jared and I climbed. It was a short hump in the earth, coated in thick grass and the occasional fern, but the mud clinging to our boots made it more difficult to mount than it had been for me to descend. Clutching at the bark of any tree in reach, I strained and dug my heels in with every step till I arrived at the top. Jared had been behind me all the while, ready to catch me if I fell. His footing was clumsier than it had been earlier in the trip; the way he hobbled on that sore knee, I wondered if I wouldn't have to carry him out of the woods on my back when we were done.

  Now that we'd climbed to the top of the hill, we had only to walk a short distance and keep an eye out for the clearing we sought. It sounded easy in theory, but the truth of the matter was that I had only a dim awareness of where we were headed. The running, rolling and slipping I'd done all throughout the night had left these woods completely jumbled in my mind—and to start with, this mind of mine had never been good with direction. Following what I could only call a gut instinct, I kept a few paces ahead of my boyfriend and started deeper into the wilderness.

  I paced on as though I possessed real knowledge and purpose, but the truth was that I was winging it. Some twenty minutes into our search, Jared must have realized this, because he stopped me. “Babe, where is it? Shouldn't we be there by now?”

  I adjusted course by a few degrees and pushed a tangle of branches out of my way. “All right, I never said I had the spot pinpointed. It's not like I've got a GPS.”

  He crouched to tighten his laces and nodded into the untrodden wilds before us. “OK, then would you say it's that way, or have we passed it? Could it be deeper in? We've kept awfully close to the Creek. Are you sure it's parallel to it?”

  Jared's questions were reasonable enough, and I should have been able to answer them, but as I glanced around me, finding identical-looking trees on every side, it all struck me as word salad. I palmed at my brow, trying to massage away the waxing ache in my temples. “I'm not sure of anything. I think—I feel confident—it's this way. But it's possible we've missed it. It's not a very big clearing, maybe only ten or fifteen feet around.”

  He grimaced, balancing a fist against one of the trees and glaring up into the dark sky. “That's like trying to find a needle in a haystack around here. These woods go on for miles and miles...” He licked at his lips and batted away several low-hanging tree limbs. “Do you remember anything else about the area? Anything we can keep an eye out for?”

  I shoved on. There was nothing I could say that would placate him. “Let's keep going. It's probably just ahead.”

  He didn't say anything more. Jamming his hands into his pockets, he shook his head and kept behind me.

  I wished that I'd left behind breadcrumbs, that I'd tied something to the trees leading up to the clearing. Ducking around tree after tree only to find more densely-packed trees beyond was getting to be demoralizing. I stepped past a number of swaying weeds and stood beside a towering oak whose mossy length appeared somewhat blackened—perhaps lightning-struck. The damage seemed strange to me, and I walked around the tree to take a closer look.

  Then, I noticed the tree growing immediately beside it. It was the same type, but it stood in much sorrier condition than its fellow. It curved unnaturally towards the top, like a limp spear of asparagus, and the foliage that still clung to its limbs seemed particularly droopy.

  I pushed past these diseased specimens and discovered still more—ropey weeds, sagging, spotted leaves, dried-out roots and trunks—and just beyond them, the edge of a dry, bowl-shaped divot in the earth, some ten feet across.

  “This is it!” I exclaimed.

  Jared stood beside me, taking a few moments to soak up the putrefaction. When he'd taken in the sights and paced into the center of the dry, grassless spot, he stared into the gnarled canopy and shuddered. “You weren't kidding. This is strange.”

  I lingered at the edge of the clearing, careful not to touch any of the diseased plants about me. “So, what now?”

  Jared scanned the woods in silence, making sure that the two of us were alone.
Then, looking down at the cracked earth, he nodded firmly. “You said that the witch came here. Maybe it's her final resting place, yeah?” He knelt down and tested the dirt with his fingers; it flaked away with ease. “Only one way to find out.”

  Twenty-One

  “You want to try and dig her up?” I asked. “How? We don't have a shovel...”

  Jared didn't look like he was going to let that get in his way. He stood, pacing the circumference of the clearing, and kicking at the parched earth therein. “Might be able to use a stick, or else I'll dig in with my knife.” He tapped at the ground with his boot. “It's not heavily packed, kind of sandy. I bet I could even use my hands.”

  “Sure, but... what will we do once we find her body?” I held my breath as I waited for his reply.

  He didn't answer me. Instead, he knelt back down and clawed at the dirt with a grunt. “I don't understand how this ground could be so dry. I mean, after the rain we had, you'd think this spot would be a giant puddle. Instead, it looks like a desert. And what's up with these trees?” He looked up at the limp canopy, at the mold-slick trees that made up the perimeter of the clearing. “Something must be buried here, and whatever it is, the land isn't fond of it.”

  There had to have been something in that shallow depression at the clearing's center—something that had poisoned the surrounding woods. I stared down at the parched earth, wondering what could have laid roots there. The vegetation here had not been dispatched mercifully; rather, it had gone through its life cycle at a noticeable disadvantage. Natural processes had been corrupted; roots had tapped into something foul, and that foulness had gone on to taint successive generations of flora. What wretched thing had become entangled in the roots of these withered trees?