Jon Fore - Black Water

Abby struggled a moment more, then slumped in Ethan’s arms to continue sobbing. The freshness of the air, the warmth of the sun, the fact that they finally broke free of the horrible underground place fell on her like rushing water, and she cried her grief, her anger, and for her hard won freedom. She had proven herself strong; no matter what else may come to her, she knew this one thing with certainty.

“We can’t stay here, Abby. There was something else in the water, something I…we do not want to know about it. We need to leave.”

He released her and began to draw her down the mountain, trailing her by a reluctant arm. She began to stumble after him, not quit done crying herself out. “Where are we going now? Do you even know where we are?”

“We are on the west side of the mountain. We need to make our way back to the east, to where the car is, where Brighton can call for help.”

“Why? You killed her, remember?”

“Abby… There will be questions; we need to file a police report, get all this documented.”

“They can’t do anything now. You shot her, remember?”

Ethan did not reply, but continued to pull her along like a spoiled child mid-tantrum. He was exhausted—every fiber of his body throbbed in weariness, and his feet ached in a way he had never known. However, he knew the sun would not be in the sky much longer and he had to get them both as far away as he could before it set. For some reason, he was sure the thing that was crawling from the water was waiting for darkness.

Abby began to try to use her cane again, and Ethan eased the pace just enough to allow her. The ankle had pretty much gone numb, but it felt squishy and gritty. She was not sure what kind of damage she was doing, but abhorred the idea of being crippled. She could not imagine herself as a photojournalist with a gimp foot.

The thought shocked her. Two people, people her age had died in there, and she was still forward looking, concerned about her future. They were both dead and gone, their futures ending with them. She suddenly felt ashamed at her own selfishness.

The loss that hurt most was Madison. They had known each other for three years: Madison, the young, full-of-life girl, and Abby, the caring, ever-watchful mother figure. Madison had taught her much about living and enjoying life, and Abby taught Madison responsibility, making her study for the nonspecific classes she was taking in college.

Abby knew that Madison had been more than corrupted, she had been ruined, body and soul, and there would have been no saving her, even if she had somehow brought her out of there. Why she had attacked Ethan so, she was not sure. She did know that he was there and available for her to vent her rage, and anyone cold enough to shoot a dear friend, even in that condition was a real bastard, and as soon as they were out of here she was going to break up with him. She never wanted to see him again…or remember this horrible weekend.

The ground became more level and more wild. Trees were thick in every direction: some almost bald, others coated in fine green needles. Nevertheless, it cut their sight down to only a few yards, and they had to snake their way through the thick underbrush. Abby could feel the desperation in Ethan and began to feel the same as the sun descended toward the horizon.

Ethan led her to the left and around the base of the mountain. She was not sure why he went this way but hoped he knew what he was doing—he was the one with hiking experience, after all. She had never spent the night in the woods until they came here, more or less attempted to navigate them.

The forest floor was thick with fallen leaves, and the smell of their decay was comforting in an odd way; it was more of a proper decay than what they had so recently escaped. The refuse did manage to hide the smaller rocks, making their travel more difficult. Ethan discovered the pitfalls first and did his best to steer Abby from them.

The hidden stones and roots more than once twisted Abby’s foot painfully, but Ethan would not let up. The further the sun sank, the faster he wanted to move. Deep inside Abby, there rose a desire as strong as his, and so she did not complain or object. The sun had begun to disappear behind the horizon, just a sliver, and time was racing past them. Abby knew something awful was going to happen and like in a dream, she was helpless to escape it and helpless to give up her escape.

“What are we going to do when it is dark, Ethan? We can’t keep going in the dark, can we?”

“I don’t know, but we are going to try. Do you feel it?”

“Yeah, we are about to be hunted, aren’t we?”

“It feels like it, huh?”

The sun had almost made good its abandonment of the sky when the mountain curbed sharply to the left. Abby found it hard to catch her breath, and her ankle was demanding attention, trying to argue with her to stop and rest. Ethan, as well, was breathing heavily, but fear set his face like a mask comfortably embracing determination. Then the sun fell from sight, and the sky grew a deep, pale purple.

From a distance, and around a major portion of the mountain, came the screeching roar of something bent to the hunt. It was not the deep rumbling roar of a jungle cat, but the voice of many women, screaming through their deaths but with violent intent. It made the blood run cold through Abby’s veins, and Ethan literally screamed a short burst of fright.

“We really got to move now, Abby—like run! Come on!”

He yanked on her arm and began to drag her before she got her feet moving. Her ankle exploded in pain, a deep-inside bone pain with every step, and she began to sob again. Her desire to live, the drive for self-preservation was waning, and the uncomfortable idea of giving up began to swamp her mind. She did not want to end up like Madison, but the pain was near unbearable, even as horrified as she was.

The screeching sound came again, and this time the forest animals began to cry out as well, but they in fear and warning. Something was walking the forest this night and the forest loathed its passing. Whatever this creature was, the animals here knew and feared it, their brethren broken and ruined in the passages of the prison.

“Ethan?” Abby finally asked, having reached the very end of her endurance.

“No, Abby!” he shouted and pulled her harder.

“Ethan, please…” She fell in spite of herself. The ground rushed up to her like something from a movie, and the wind rushed from her in a gasping sound.

Ethan grabbed her, hauled her up before she could even draw breath, and heaved her over his shoulder. He continued on, pushing harder but moving slower.

The thing’s enraged call came again. This time, it was much too close and there were very few animals brave enough to answer it.

The rhythmic pounding of Ethan’s shoulder into her midriff made it difficult for her to catch her breath again, but she did not care. Abby had crossed that line, had given way to her hopelessness, and the fight fled from her. She had simply given up. Again, she recalled the Lord’s Prayer and began to recite it quietly to herself.

Ethan slowed to a walk, both because of the dense forest and his own exhaustion. He did not show signs of giving up, but his breath began to take voice, and grunts of strain escaped him with every step. He started to use the trees around him to steady his footing, certain he was close to collapsing.

Suddenly, a weight lifted from him, and he stumbled forward. Abby screamed horrifically, as if a nightmare she knew was not true suddenly appeared before her. He spun, and in the defuse light of deep dusk, he saw the hunter. A number of segmented legs suspended a large bulbous body above the ground. The torso of a man rose from the spider-like body, the flesh glossy and black as coal. Its arms were insect like, black with patchy fur, and in its hands, it held Abby, its wicked claws already sunk deeply in her chest and legs.