Secrets

The old man

         Samuel stood panting. Little streams of perspiration ran down his face. His eyes were sunken, drawn back in their sockets. In the faint light seeping through the forest canopy his face seemed haunted, his lips drawn in a frightening sneer. He was shivering, a mixture of exertion and adrenaline causing his entire body to shake uncontrollably. He was shaking so bad that Michael could hear his teeth clatter together.

“ Did you see that!?! Did you?” Samuel was still standing, leaning slightly forward, his head bowed as he spoke. “I thought there'd be more blood.” He almost sounded disappointed. His voice was little more than a whisper but it cut through the deadly silence like a knife.

Mike was frozen in place. He wanted to turn and run, just run, as fast as he could. He wanted to run out of the forest, away from Cedar Creek and all its crazy inhabitants, away from his parents who had dragged him there against his will, but most of all, he wanted to run away from the evil little imp before him, but he couldn't move. He felt like screaming, like grabbing Samuel and shaking him until his head came loose, but he was frozen.
A whispered, “Why'd you do that?”, was all he could manage.

Samuel raised his head slightly. He glared at Michael through the sweat drenched strings of hair which had fallen in his face. He was still holding the bloody rock. The blood was already starting to dry, turning into thick black-red syrup. It dripped from the rock, making thin syrupy strings.

Samuel seemed to consider his answer carefully before he spoke. “You must've meant to say; what did we do. Didn't you? Isn't that what you had meant to say?”

“I didn't do anything! You,... You're crazy. Why'd you do that? “

A nasty little smile spread across Samuel's face. He slowly started moving from side to side, weaving. He looked like a snake getting ready to strike, moving from side to side to get an accurate estimation of how far away its prey is. It was such a subtle motion that Mike wasn't sure if it was real, or his eyes playing tricks on him. The movement was hypnotising.

“You had better think very carefully about what you say and do in the next few minutes Mikey. You had better use that big brain of yours and think things through. You don't want to make a mistake now.”

Samuel seemed so calm, so in control. Mike couldn't tear his eyes away from him, or the rock. He saw everything in high definition, true colour, maximum detail, clarity. He could see every bead of sweat running down Samuel's face, he could see every little peak and crevice in the uneven surface of the rock. It felt like all of his senses had suddenly come alive, like they had only been idling before, but were now in high gear.

“What are you thinking Mikey? I hope you're not thinking of running. This is a dangerous time for you. A lot of things can happen next , mostly bad things. We can get through this if we stick together, but if we start pointing fingers....”

“I'll go to the police. I'll tell them everything.” Mike felt like screaming. He could feel panic well up inside. How could Samuel be so calm?

“And what would you tell them? Would you tell them how your only friend turned into a maniac and crushed someone's head with a rock?”

“Yes! That's exactly what I'd tell them!”, Mike shouted.

“Your forgetting something, aren't you? You don't have any friends. Nobody knows about the two of us hanging out together, remember? You were too ashamed to be seen with me. You wanted to keep your options open, remember? You didn't want to spoil your chances of making friends with the cool kids by hanging out with the offspring of the town drunk.”

Mike felt a pang of guilt. He had been ashamed of being seen with Samuel. Since moving to Cedar Creek he hadn't had much luck making friends. The kids here were so different from his friends back home. He had had problems relating with them. Before long he had felt like an outcast, and in a town as small as Cedar Creek that was a big problem. Small town loneliness is a killer. It's a monster waiting in the dark. It tears at the mind and rips at the soul. It devours human spirit, leaving nothing but a broken down shell, bitter and alone, where there had once been love and hope. Samuel had been the only person willing to spend time with him, and he had repaid him by making as if he didn't exist.

“I'll bring them here, show them everything. They'll do tests, get evidence, like fingerprints. They'll show that you were here, that I was telling the truth.”

“Mikey, Mikey, Mikey. Who will you show? Sheriff Brock? That fat fuck knows less about police work than you do. He's just a small town barber, earning extra cash by playing sheriff. Throwing my dad in the drunk box from time to time is the only thing he's done in his official capacity as sheriff of Cedar Creek. But don't worry, I'll make things easy for him, leave him lots of evidence. I'll leave my clothes here, with the body. They're ruined anyway. Pity, I really liked this shirt. I didn't even care that it was your old throw-out. Come to think of it, these pants used to be yours too, and the shoes. Hell, I'm even wearing one of your jockeys that I took from your room yesterday while we were packing your stuff”

Mike stared at him in astonishment. For the first time he realised that Samuel looked like a freaky little cloned version of himself. His clothes hung on Samuel's skinny frame, making him look more like a stick figure playing dress up, than a real boy. He recognised the New York Yankees baseball shirt his mom had bought for him back when things were still good between them, back when they were still a family. When the realisation of what Samuel was telling him finally hit home, it made him gasp.
“You planned this. You wanted this to happen. Yesterday when we were in my room, you planned this.”

“Don't be silly Mike. Do you really think I sat in your room yesterday, watching you pack, thinking: My oh my, what will we do with ourselves, camping out in the woods, with nobody around and nobody knowing where we are, and then, I know! Lets kill a homeless person!? I am not a stupid person Mike. I don't do things without thinking them through very carefully. I've been planning this for a long time.”

“But why? Why did you want him dead? He was just a homeless guy.”

“Just a homeless guy? Look at him! He was disgusting! I did him a favour. You know what its like, having people point at you and whisper, making fun of you, calling you names. Sure, you might just be a temporary resident of loser land, but you've seen enough in the last couple of months to know what it's like. At least he won't have to worry about any of that anymore. “

“That's why you killed him? You took a rock, and beat his face in, because you didn't want people making fun of him?”

“No Mike, I took a rock and beat his face in, because I was tired of being alone. You think I don't know that the first time you get invited to a party or get picked for the football team, will be the last time we see each other as friends? Do you think I didn't realise right from the start that our friendship had an expiration date? Well, fuck that! Now we'll always have something in common, something nobody else has. A secret.“

Mike finally tore his gaze away from Samuel. He looked at the lifeless mass at Samuel's feet. Blood had stained much of the old man's clothes a dark coppery red. His facial features had been all but obliterated by Samuel's violent attack. A mangled mess of flesh was all that remained. The same deep crimson syrup which had been oozing off of the rock, had formed little pools in the featureless pulp, sometimes overflowing to form little syrup rivers which snaked down the sides of the old man's head and neck. In some places Mike could see flashes of bright white protruding from the dark pools. Bone splinters.
Down in the dark, deep down where the mind stores up all the little goodies which come back to haunt us later, Mike again heard the peculiar crunch the old man's face had made just before the convulsions had started. Like before, it reminded him of stepping on a garden snail. His mind eagerly replayed the little snippet of film of Samuel driving the rock down hard, hitting the old man squarely in the face. The impact made a loud, wet, crunch, the moaning stopped, and the convulsions started. Little black spots started playing in front of Mike's vision. He felt so light, like he could simply drift away on the cool afternoon breeze. Don't faint. No telling what he'll do to you if you faint. He dropped to his hands and knees, and vomited instead.

On The Move

         They were on the move, heading back. Mike had never thought it possible, but he couldn’t wait to get back to Cedar Creek. Samuel was in front of him, struggling against the weight of his pack as he half walked, half crawled, up the bank of one of the many dry storm rundowns which traced down the sides of the mountain.
It had taken the better part of the morning to bury the old man. The ground, though relatively soft, had been laced with roots, hell bent on making the task at hand as difficult as possible. Apparently Samuel hadn’t thought as far ahead as he would’ve liked Mike to believe, as the thought of bringing a shovel had escaped him. They used rocks to dig the grave, and although Samuel had wanted it at least four feet deep, they only managed a couple of inches before the going got so tough that they were forced to quit.
Getting the old man into the grave had also posed some unexpected problems. The old man’s dying convulsions had left his right arm sticking up at a peculiar angle, hand stretched out towards the sky, as if he had made a final desperate plea towards the heavens before succumbing to Samuel’s relentless attack. The onset of rigor mortis, during the boys’ grave digging exercise, had cemented the old man’s last grasp, leaving them in a bit of a pickle. They tried simply lowering the arm, but the muscles and joints had grown so stiff in the hours since the old man’s death, that they could not get the arm to stay in a more respectable pose. In the end, Samuel used a thick branch he had found somewhere and broke first the wrist, then the arm, allowing them to place the old man’s arm on his chest. They wrapped the body in an old tarpaulin, which Samuel had apparently brought along for just that purpose, and then secured the tarp using a length of nylon rope which Samuel firmly wound around the body. When they were finished it look more like a giant cocoon than a human body. No butterflies coming out of there old buddy, he thought.
After covering up the body with dirt and rocks, and covering all traces of what had happened with leaves and left over dirt from the grave, they packed up, making sure not to leave anything behind. Samuel seemed happy. Mike hadn't know him for very long, but thinking back, he couldn't remember ever seeing Samuel in such a good mood before. He himself felt anything but happy. You're going to hell old buddy. They're going to catch you, and fry you, and send you to hell! Do they even send children to the electric chair? Mike wasn't sure, but if they did, he was sure that that's where they were heading. Serves you right killer! They're going to tie you down and fry your little ass. He felt like he was going to vomit again. “I didn't kill anybody”, he whimpered to himself. You might not have been the one with the rock, but you didn't do anything to stop it. You helped to clean it up, and it doesn't seem to bother you a hell of a lot. That last bit had been bothering him a bit. Once he had stopped vomiting, he had simply gotten up and had helped Samuel dig the grave. He had been a little squeamish about touching the body, but even that had not been as bad as he had imagined it would be. He hadn't been able to look at the old man's face again, but other than that...


         The going was painfully slow. Every minute seemed to stretch on for hours. Initially, Samuel had tried to make conversation, but had soon given up, realising Mike was not in the mood for small talk. Slowly but surely Samuel's good mood had faded until, after a while, he looked like a walking thunderstorm. Every step which brought them closer to town also seemed to drive Samuel deeper inside himself. They walked in silence, each lost in his own world.
The forest around them was alive with little things scurrying about, running from one little-thing-errand to the next. The wind rustled through the bright-green spring leaves, composing a symphony of sound and motion. The sweet-sour stench of decay, which always seemed so pronounced in the wet weeks of spring, was almost overpowering.
Not only decaying leaves old buddy. You have a nice little sweet-sour treat of your own buried back there somewhere, don’t you? The little voice had grown ever more persistent. Mike had tried to ignore it, but it knew exactly which buttons to push to get a response. That’s the problem with a conscience Buddy; there’s no hiding from me. I know what gets to you.
But he had managed to hide from it, for short periods of time at least, by retreating to his mind oasis. Having spent so much time alone over the last couple of months, at least until he had met Samuel, he had often retreated to this corner of his mind, where he could imagine the world as his oyster. In his mind oasis, he was the hero who always got the girl, the one who drove the shiny Porsche, always knew the right thing to say and had hundreds of adoring subjects eager to satisfy his every whim. In his mind oasis there were no mothers, dying of cancer, who cried themselves to sleep or fathers who moved their families away from the place they called home to escape the secretaries they had slept with. In his mind oasis he was safe, or as safe as he could possibly be, from the little demon whispering in his ear, eagerly waiting for him to close his eyes, so that it could surprise him with a re-run of their very own, very special little home movie.

         As the afternoon dragged on it became glaringly obvious that they would not reach Cedar Creek before nightfall.

“We’ll have to set up camp sometime soon”, said Samuel, breaking the silence. “You know we’re not going to make it back to town before it gets dark, and I don’t feel like stumbling around in the woods at night.”

He knew that Samuel was right, but the memory of the gift wrapped treat, buried somewhere behind them, made the idea of spending another night in the woods almost as disagreeable as the thought of unknowingly stumbling over a cliff in the dark.

“What will your parents do if you don’t show up tonight?”, Samuel asked.

“Nothing. They think I’m out camping with the band geeks, remember?” Mike was starting to regret lying to his mother about their trip. He had forged a school permission slip on his computer, asking for permission for him to join the school band on a camping trip. His mother had been more than happy to sign it, only too glad that he had finally decided to become involved in something other than watching TV. Things might not have been what they had used to be at home, but Mike had known that his parents wouldn’t have allowed the two of them to go camping by themselves. Besides, lying to his mother, making up the story about camping with the school band, had been better than admitting to his mother that he had been hanging out with Samuel. She had only met Samuel once, briefly, but had taken such a dislike in him right away, that she had pleaded with him not to go near Samuel again. Guess your mom’s not as spaced out as you’d thought, huh? Maybe the cancer hasn’t killed off all of her brain just yet.

         They kept walking for a little while longer, until they reached a dry river bed, which Samuel proclaimed to be the best place for putting up camp for the night.

“How far do you think we are from town?” Mike asked.

“A couple of miles at least.” Samuel seemed almost cheerful again, like he was on some grand adventure. He swung his pack from his shoulders and propped it up against the trunk of a massive old tree. “You stay here, gather some rocks and build a fireplace, I’ll get some wood.”

Samuel disappeared before Mike could object. He didn’t feel like being left alone. Now that’s original! You don’t want the little monster to leave you alone. You should be trying to get away from him, trying to get help.

“I’ve already thought that through, remember? Samuel’s a lot faster than me. He’d catch up to me in no time. There’s no telling what he’d do to me for running away if he caught me.”

Hey, you might just be able to convince them not to turn you’re skinny little ass into fried chicken after all. Talking to your self can’t be a good sign, you must be nuts! Is that it? Are you a few sheep short of a full herd? You had better keep those little sheep together old buddy. Samuel had been right about you needing to use that big brain of yours. You had better think hard if you want to come out of this in one piece.

Mike was tired. He didn’t want to think anymore. In fact, he didn’t want to do anything anymore. He wished he could just close his eyes and wish away the last two days. He wished he could just go to sleep there, in that dry river bed, and wake up in his bed. He wished he could go down stairs and find his mom and dad joking with each other in the kitchen while making breakfast, like they used to, before the doctors had told them that God had left a little surprise in his mother’s head, before his dad had turned into a molester of office staff. Most of all, he wished he had never met Samuel.

Yeah, but we both know the problem with wishes don’t we Buddy? If you wish in your one hand, and take a shit in your other hand, you always end up with nothing but a hand full of shit.


         They didn't speak much that night either. They sat by the fire, light and shadows dancing around them. Samuel's renewed cheerfulness of earlier had not lasted long. Watching Samuel's severe mood swings through the course of the afternoon, had given Mike the impression that Samuel might not be as in control of the situation as he had wanted Mike to believe.

“I'm sorry.” Samuel whispered.

He spoke so softly that Mike wasn't sure he had heard right.

“I was afraid. I didn't want to be alone again.”, he continued. “I thought that if we had something that tied us together, we'd be friends for ever, but now I'm not so sure. Now I think you'll never be able to look at me the same again.”

He got up and threw some more wood on the fire, sending thousands of sparkling little coals into the night.

“Worst is, I think I killed the only real friend I had. Old Joe came all the way out here just cause I asked him to. Cause I promised him a carton of smokes if he helped me play a trick on you. Poor bastard, never even saw it coming. He was an old stinker, but at least he talked to me. He never beat on me like my dad, or ignored me like you sometimes do. All I had to do was bring him some smokes from time to time, or a bottle of booze from Dad's stock.”

He turned and faced Mike. In the firelight it almost looked like he was crying.

“I'll understand if you don't speak to me again. In fact, I don't think it would be a good idea if we hang out together anymore. I don't think I want to be reminded of this.”

For the first time that day Samuel looked like a boy. He looked tired, afraid. Mike almost felt sorry for him. He watched as Samuel got into his sleeping bag, curling up into a little ball. A couple of times he thought he could hear Samuel sobbing softly. He sat by the fire until it was little more than a glowing pile, watching Samuel's fitful sleep, thinking. When he finally tried to get some sleep himself, he too slept fitfully.

The dream

         Night in the forest is dark. There is no other darkness quite like it, the unimpregnable forest canopy an impassible barrier for the faint moonlight, leaving the forest floor void of even the faintest trace of light.
Mike wandered through this pitch black landscape. All around him the forest was alive with sound. Little things scurried about, some looking for food, some running in an attempt not to become food.
Thin wisps of mist swirled through the trees and played around his legs. He couldn't see where he was going, not that it mattered, he had no idea of where he was heading anyway. He just walked.
Something's out there. The thought sent a cold ripple down his back. Something's moving out there. He stopped , listened. The forest was a tomb. Nothing moved, it was as if every creature in the forest had disappeared. No, not gone. Hiding. Afraid.
Mike could feel the cold fingers of panic grabbing at his mind. He could hear his heart pounding in his chest. He walked faster, throwing nervous glances over his shoulder. He could feel eyes drilling holes in his back, evil eyes, hungry eyes. He ran, stumbling over unseen obstacles in the pitch black forest night. He ran like never before, his lungs burning with the effort.
He collided with something in the dark, the impact sending him sprawling. He lay panting on the soft, moist forest floor. The sweet smell of decaying leaves filled his lungs. Slowly, the little stars playing in front of his eyes subsided. He sat up on one elbow trying to see what he had run into.

“Got a smoke?” , the dry grating voice was unmistakable. It was Joe - the old man. He was standing with his back to Mike, unmoving, still in the same place he had been when Mike had run into him.

“I say, has the young master gone deaf?”

He turned around, arms stretched out like a zombie in a low budget horror movie. He had no eyes - large blood filled pools had replaced them. The rest of his face didn't look any better. The force of Samuel's blows had completely destroyed the old man's nose. Little pieces of white bone marked the place where it had been, like macabre little tomb stones.

“Where are you, you little fuck?”,he snarled. His voice had turned phlegmy and when he spoke his mouth made wet smacking sounds."Might as well come out and face your music boy. You and your little friend both!"

"He's not my friend!", Mike shouted

"Not your friend? Then you might as well kiss your little ass good bye. The two of us was friends. He tell you that? I known him since he was a tike. He spent more time with me than with his dad!" The old man's speech became more and more laboured as he spoke. "Look at me now! Look what that little creep done to me! And you! You just stood there watchin!"

As Mike watched, the old man's body started shaking violently. It was like watching his dying convulsions all over again. For the second time that day, Mike couldn't move. He watched in horror as the old man hawked up a ball of bloody slime, and spat, sending a glob of the disgusting fluid flying, something falling at the old man's feet as he did so. The old man reached down, groping around in the leaves at his feet. He picked something up, slowly turning it over in his stiff fingers. Even through the massive facial trauma, the look of puzzlement on the old man's face was unmistakable. He turned it over and over, trying to figure out what it was. As realisation dawned on him, his look of puzzlement was quickly replaced by one of burning hatred.

“Teeth! There goes my fucking teeth!”

He threw the piece of denture at Mike. It landed a few inches from him, three nicotine stained teeth clearly visible.

“You little bastards fixed me real good. Figure it's time I do a li'le fixing of my own”, he snarled. “Yep, I figure I'm gonna have me some boy stew. I'm a gonna cook you till your nic'n soft, so I don't need no fuckin teeth”

He reached down for Mike, grabbing him by the collar, pulling him upright like he was a rag doll. He held him up, feet dangling. He pulled Mike's face right up to his and licked his broken lips.

“Let's see what you taste like...”

The Crossing

         It was early afternoon when they finally got to Widow's Gorge. The river's level had visibly risen since they had passed there two days earlier.

“I don't know about this, Samuel”, Mike said. “It must've rained higher up somewhere. The stream seems a lot stronger than before.”

Samuel also looked unsure.

“I think we should try further down stream, Samuel. Don't you think we should try and find some place safer?”

“I don't know, OK!”, Samuel shouted. “I just want to get out of this damned forest!”

Mike was not really surprised by the sudden outburst. Already it seemed like Samuel's conscience was getting the better of him. Mike had suspected it would happen sooner or later, following the performance of the previous evening, but he had thought Samuel would last longer than this. He figured the dream had been his conscience's way of showing its disapproval, but except for that, he felt only fear at being caught. The little voice that had been such a pest the previous day seemed to have disappeared all together, like the Old Man thing in his dream really had eaten part of him. Is that what the dream was all about? Did a part of him die? If so, Samuel quite obviously had not been as fortunate.

“OK, if you think you could make it...”, he said.

         Mike stripped of his clothes, stuffing them into his pack before stepping into icy water. Immediately upon entering the water he could feel the current tugging at his legs. The slippery rock bed made the crossing a trickery business. He watched Samuel get undressed, following him into the eager stream. He was much bigger than Samuel, a much stronger swimmer, and thus went ahead, testing the water. He carefully tested each step, afraid of placing his weight on a loose rock.

They were about halfway through when a branch, probably dislodged somewhere higher up river, knocked Mike's legs out from under him. He went down hard, falling precariously, twisting his wrist badly. The stream quickly took hold, pulling him, dragging him down river.
The icy water had driven all of the air from his lungs, he swallowed large mouthfuls of river in an attempt to re-fill his bursting lungs. Darkness started playing at the corners of his eyes when he was suddenly brought to a stop. His already damaged wrist twisted painfully as it got lodged in a forked branch over hanging the river. Needles of pain shot up his arm, but he managed to grab and hold on.

“Samuel! Help me!” He had managed to take a couple of breaths, but water again streamed into his mouth as he screamed, causing him to cough convulsively.

He couldn't see Samuel. He was just about to call out a second time when a thin white arm reached through the leaves and grabbed his wrist.

“Grab on to this!”, Samuel shouted, barely audible above the roar of the raging stream. He dropped down one of the straps from his backpack to Mike. “Hold on, I'll try to pull you up”

Mike grabbed the strap with his good hand, twisting it around his arm, letting go with his injured hand. He watched as Samuel folded his legs around the branch, hanging upside down, grabbing him by the elbow, trying to pull him upwards.

“You're too heavy!”

Panic showed in Samuel's eyes. The two stared at each other for a second, which seemed to drag on into eternity, and then Samuel lost his grip on the branch. He tumbled into the water, almost hitting Mike in the face as he did. Mike felt him grab onto his left leg, firmly gripping him by the ankle.

“Help me Mike!”

Samuel's face was twisted in terror.

“Please Mike, pull us up! I can't hold on long!”

Nobody knows you're out here. Nobody knows you and the little coward have been hanging out together. Nobody knows...The thought sent a shiver down his spine. Do you really want to put your future in his hands? Look at him! Already cracks are showing in his armour! You've got to do something old buddy. He's not strong enough. As soon as the two of you get back to town he's going to spill his guts.

Samuel did look terrified and he had been acting shaky all day.

He's going to squeel like a little pig, and you're going to get stuck holding the bag. You know what you've got to do old buddy, don't you?

Mike's kick caught Samuel completely by surprise. His heel smashed down on Samuel's face, breaking his nose. Mike felt the crack as the soft bones twisted under his foot. Samuel let go, and almost immediately disappeared in the raging water. Mike watched for a sign of him, but he never re-appeared. Slowly he pulled himself out of the water. He climbed up the branch and down the thick old trunk.
A little way down river he found a large outcropping of rocks. He stood here watching for Samuel, soaking up the warm afternoon sun.

“I guess this is one secret I'd rather have to myself.”, Mike whispered, and turned towards town.