Brian Keene - Ghoul

The sunrise grew brighter on the horizon, the glowing orb now peeking over the treetops of Bowman's Woods.

Grunting, Barry tried again. As he wrestled with the gearshift, something tugged at his arm. Barry glanced down, saw a bloody hand clenching his wrist, and screamed. His father clung to the side of the backhoe. The old man was grinning. Blood coursed down his face. It looked like he could barely stand, let alone hang on to the bucking vehicle, yet his grip tightened.

"That's it for you, boy." Clark spat blood. "Time to take your medicine, once and for all."

"Get off me." Barry jerked his arm away, breaking his father's grip. Arms flailing, Clark teetered backward, and then fell forward and grabbed the backhoe' s sides. He swiped at Barry's head with one fist, but in his weakened state, his aim was off. Barry easily dodged the blow, and then struck back. This time he connected. His fist plowed into his father 's already mangled mouth. Clark's lips exploded beneath his son's knuckles. More blood splattered them both. Barry' s other hand slipped off the steering wheel. The backhoe careened atop the tombstone, leaning forward at a dangerous angle. Both father and son grabbed on tight, struggling to keep their balance. Pain lashed through Barry 's hand. He glanced down and saw a piece of his father' s tooth jutting from the knuckle of his middle finger.

Clark's hand shot forward and closed around Barry's throat. Barry tried to breathe, but couldn't. His tongue and eyes bulged. Grunting, his father squeezed tighter, his fingers digging into Barry 's flesh.

"Look at this shit," Clark wheezed. "All this damage. You did this, you little punk." Barry could barely hear him over the ringing in his ears. His head began to pound. He tried again to take a breath, but his father's grip was firm. Barry' s lips started bleeding again. He reached up with both hands and clawed at his father ' s wrist and forearm, trying to dislodge him. He pried at the thick fingers, but his father was too strong.

"You ain't no son of mine."

Barry's legs thrashed. The ringing in his ears grew louder. His hands fell away, weakening. Clark's grip tightened.

"You ain't no son of mine," he repeated.

Metal shrieked against stone. The backhoe tilted forward, then plunged over. The motor sputtered and died. All around them, the ground collapsed, falling down into the earth with a deafening roar. The sinkhole yawned wide like an eager mouth, waiting to devour them all. The front scoop disappeared into the earth, followed by the grille, headlights, and front tires. Barry slammed against the roll cage. Wire mesh pressed against his cheek. His father ' s grip slipped from his throat as Clark struggled to avoid falling.

Gasping for breath, Barry held on tight as the backhoe again lurched forward. His stomach felt sick. His fingers clutched the wire mesh. His father scrabbled for purchase, clinging to the steering wheel. The backhoe tipped forward and plunged headlong into the chasm.

As the ghoul approached, Timmy tried to scream. Instead, all that came out was a muffled whine. Clouds of dust swirled in the air. The creature loomed before him, its stink filling the tunnel. Slime dripped from its pores, pooling at its feet. It raised its claws to strike And the tunnel collapsed behind them. Tons of dirt filled the passageway, sealing off the other end. The flashlight slipped from Timmy' s grasp. He dropped to his knees, pulling Karen down with him. Both of them covered their mouths and noses as more dust filled the air. Timmy closed his eyes. A great roaring sound filled his ears, and then faded.

He opened his eyes again.

Despite the debris in the air, he could see. The ceiling was gone. Dim sunlight spilled through the chasm. The backhoe filled the tunnel, surrounded by piles of dirt, broken tombstones, and splintered coffins. Barry knelt in the dirt, coughing and gagging. The wound on his cheek had opened up again, and there were fresh cuts and scratches on his face and arms. His neck was bruised. The purple blotches looked like finger marks. There was no sign of the ghoul. Next to him, Karen threw up.

Timmy patted her back, unsure of what to do. "You okay?" Gasping, she nodded. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Timmy crawled over to Barry. Despite his injuries, Barry smiled.

"You're rescued."

"What happened?"

Groaning, Barry struggled to his feet. "The ground caved in. I couldn't jump off because my old man"

His eyes grew wide. He turned around quickly; then looked back to Timmy.

"Where is he?"

Timmy frowned. "The ghoul? I don't know. He must have took off when you came crashing through."

"No," Barry shook his head. "My old man. He was on the backhoe when it fell." They searched through the wreckage. The backhoe had landed on its front, and the scoop was imbedded in the tunnel floor. The dirt had piled up around it, burying the entire front end. The rear scoop jutted through the crevice in the ceiling and out to the surface. They clambered over the mounds of earth, searching. Timmy gasped. "Is that…"

Barry knelt in the dirt. His father's hand jutted from the soil. Dane Graco' s freemason ring was still on his finger. Without a word, Barry pulled the ring free and tossed it to Timmy.

"There. You should have this."

"Thanks." Timmy put the ring in his pocket. "Are you gonna be all right?" Barry shrugged, his eyes not leaving the hand. "Yeah. I mean, maybe I should be sad, because he was my father, but I'm not. I don't even feel happy. I' m just… empty. Does that make sense?"

Timmy nodded.

Barry ran his hands through his hair, shaking out the dirt. "He said I wasn't any son of his. Right before we fell."

"That's not true."

"Yeah, it is. He may have been my old man, biologically, but I ain't his son. No way. I'm nothing like him, and I'm never gonna be. I swear it."

Karen stepped forward. "Can we go?"

"What about the other woman?" Timmy asked. "Deb? We can't just leave her down here."

"Where is she?" Barry stared at Karen's breasts, then quickly looked away.

"Back there somewhere." Timmy pointed past the pile of dirt choking the tunnel.

"We'll have to dig through that."

"With what," Barry snorted. "Our bare hands?" Karen climbed up the backhoe. "We'll get help. They can send a rescue squad in to dig her out, just like they do when a mine collapses. I' m not waiting for that thing to come back. She might not even be alive anymore. She was pretty… out of it. I think her mind went after the first time the ghoul…"

Rather than finishing the sentence, she turned her face skyward. Timmy and Barry watched her climb. Barry leaned close and whispered in his ear.

"Do you think the ghoul is dead?"

"I don't know," Timmy said. "My eyes were shut. I didn't see where it went."

"What about Doug? Did you find him?"

Timmy lowered his head. His lip quivered. "Yeah. He's… I don't want to talk about it right now."

"Shit."

"Yeah."

Karen shimmied up the rear scoop's arm. When she reached the ceiling, she looked back down at them.

"You guys coming?"

Nodding, the boys climbed onto the backhoe. Barry started up first, followed by Timmy. Timmy had only ascended a few feet when he heard a soft rustling noise. He glanced down at the mound of debris. It was moving.

"Shit. Go, go, go!"

"What is it?" Barry stopped, looking down in concern.

"Just go," Timmy screamed. "Hurry!"

A clawed hand erupted from the dirt, followed by another. Several of the ghoul' s talons had been ripped away, and its fingers were bleeding. Its arms thrust forward, followed by its pointed, oversized head. Its yellow eyes smoldered with rage. Screaming, Barry began climbing again. Timmy pushed on his feet, urging him to go faster.

The ghoul sprang from the mound and shook off the dirt. Then it rose to its full height.