“Hi there!”
The greeting was casual, bordering on friendly, and before Spencer could respond the man plunged a box cutter into his neck with a quickness and ease that was almost supernatural. Spencer fell back, his face comical with shock as the man withdrew the blade. Blood began to pulse from Spencer’s neck in impressive arcs that splattered, violating the surrounding foliage.
Anthony opened his mouth to scream, but the man was already on his feet and striding toward him. In one swift motion he pocketed the box cutter and pulled out a length of cord. Anthony tried to run, but the man already had the cord around his neck. He tightened it and Anthony gasped, falling to his knees as his face turned red, then an ugly shade of purple. His eyes bulged as the man continued to tighten the cord, and Walter watched in wonderment and horror as Anthony’s bulging eyes filled with blood. The scene, gruesome as it was, bore a surprisingly close resemblance to Walter’s fantasies. He felt a strange sense of gratitude as Anthony let out one final, choked gasp before dying. The man let his body slump to the ground with a heavy thud before returning the length of cord to his pocket.
He turned to Walter and grinned.
“What do you say, boy?”
Walter didn’t know what to say. The man sensed his trepidation and laughed.
“You don’t need to be scared. I heard everything those two whistling assholes said, and I certainly know what they did. In case you haven’t figured it out yet, I don’t like bullies.”
He spat on the ground, and Walter noticed with some distaste that the phlegm was green and speckled with bits of black and brown.
“My experience with bullies,” the man continued. “Is that they stay bullies, even when they grow up. I just did the world a favor!”
He punctuated this simple proclamation with a look of dignified defiance, as if he was daring Walter to disagree with him. The thing was, Walter didn’t disagree. Even if he did he certainly wouldn’t let on, not after he saw what this guy was capable of.
“Give me a hand?” the man asked as he grabbed Spencer’s feet.
Walter hesitated before taking another drag from his inhaler.
“Don’t worry, boy. They won’t never find them. And if they do, they certainly ain’t going to blame you.”
That was good enough for Walter.
Although the man did most of the work, Walter did his best. Since he was perceived as weak, even by the relatives and teachers that were nice to him, nobody ever asked him to help with anything. The task at hand was grim, but Walter wasn’t going to let such a rare opportunity go to waste. The bodies were dumped in an old sewer pipe that the man claimed hadn’t been used in thirty years.
“The redirected the sewers elsewhere,” he told Walter matter-of-factly. “But that don’t mean we still can’t fill it with shit!”
He followed this with a loud, hoarse laugh, and for a brief instant Walter joined him. When they returned to the man’s campsite Walter watched as he opened a bottle of booze and used it to wash away Spencer’s blood.
“Need to take it easy with this shit anyway,” the man explained as the blood and alcohol were swallowed by the freshly dampened soil. When it was done the man added the bottle to a tattered garbage bag filled with empties before returning to his earlier spot.
“Back to sleep,” he said. “Be on your way now.”
Walter, still slightly numb from the events of that afternoon, dutifully grabbed his bag and made his way back to the main trail.
“Hey, boy!”
Walter turned around to see the man propped up on his elbow.
“I got your back. Do what you need to do to forget about everything else that happened today, but always remember that.”
And then, in a matter of seconds, he was prone and fully asleep.
• • •
“Wally Poop Pants!”
Walter was almost home, and was still thinking of an excuse to give to his mother. He was almost an hour late and knew she’d be freaking out by now, but at that moment he had another matter to attend to.
“Wally Poop Pants!” Jason repeated in a sing-song voice. He rode his bike past Walter and was now blocking his path. There was a time when Jason seemed impossibly tall and imposing, but now he just reminded Walter of an ant. A smelly, ugly ant.
“What are you up to, buddy?” Jason continued. “Your knees are looking a little dirty. Been busy in those woods?”
Walter didn’t fully understand what that meant, but the mention of the woods brought on a sudden burst of inspiration.
“Hey, Jason,” he said with a grin. “Wanna see a dead body?”
Michael Subjack
About the Author
Michael Subjack was born in a small town in Western New York. He enjoys good cigars and going on hikes with his dog Rosie.
He lives in Los Angeles but you can also find him on Twitter as @MSubjack. and on his Amazon Author Page
https://www.amazon.com/Michael-Subjack/e/B01GJ2QSGW
Forest Man
Holley Cornetto
“Tell me what you remember, Nate.”
Jennifer sat across from me in a booth at the Tick Tock Diner. It was past midnight, and the place was mostly empty. A jukebox stood in the corner, covered in dust. The whole place looked like a relic of the past; maybe that is why I’d chosen it for our reunion.
I swallowed hard, considering my answer. How much did I remember? How much of what I thought I knew was real? “I remember the night at the bonfire, when we found out about Franklin. I had a crush on you. Did you know that? I was nervous.”
She had so many piercings that her face resembled a pincushion. From the looks of it, her hair had once been blue, but was now faded to green from neglect. She was still beautiful, no doubt, but the years hadn’t been kind. Maybe that’s how
