Chapter 42
After the confrontation with the two men, Jake had passed out. He awoke coughing violently. He was lying face down on the dirt floor and every time he took a breath, clouds of the stuff were getting sucked into his lungs, suffocating him in the process. A cold sweat broke out on his forehead as a coughing fit racked him. Sitting up was a chore, but it was better than lying in this sea of dirt, slowly drowning him with its filth.
Finally, the spasm stopped. In the process, his ribs ached, probably because the Taylor boy had put his boots to Jake, even though nothing could be recalled of the incident.
Totally disoriented, he slowly looked around the room, trying to think why he was there; or where there actually was. Every thing was a blur. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t remember anything that had happened to him.
As he sat there, details started to come into focus. The first thing that he noticed was a body lying on the floor beside him. Its face was beaten beyond recognition, and Jake gave a shudder. He backed away from it only to bump into another a few feet away. Its condition too was like that of the first.
Jake gave a startled shriek. “What the hell is going on? Where the fuck am I?”
He started to move about in a panic. To make matters worse if that was possible, another body was stretched out on the kitchen table. Its eyes bulged out of its head and the tongue hung to one side, bloated and discolored. There was a large, gaping jagged hole by its throat, with dried blood encrusted around the wound. Jake felt like he was going to throw up but managed to stop himself before he did.
The macabre scene seemed so strange but somehow familiar at the same time. He had a sense of déjà vu; a sense of having seen this all before. It was almost as if he had walked into the set of a B horror movie, where dead bodies kept popping up around every corner. He almost expected a masked crazy to come barging through the door at any moment and carve him up with a butcher knife or beat him senseless with a blunt instrument.
Trying to calm himself as best he could, Jake listened to hear if anyone was nearby hunting for him. The only sound was that of his labored breathing. It appeared that he was alone, other than a few corpses here and there. As he began to relax just a touch, he heard a skittering sound from across the room. He turned, expecting the worst, but nothing could be seen. Then he saw them. The counter was thick with cock roaches of every shape and size, crawling over something which may have been food at one point but was now difficult to tell. At closer examination, he let out a startled cry.
A human hand, or what was left of it, had one of its fingers missing. It was black and swollen and looked like it had been severed from the owner’s arm with a serrated blade. The end was jagged with the wrist bone protruding from it. Flies were also feasting on the inside with maggots in there as well.
This was too much for any one to take. Without warning, he vomited, and then threw up again. Feeling weak in the knees, he thought he would pass out but didn’t.
"This just keeps getting better and better.” Jake said disgustedly. “What have I gotten myself into?” He couldn’t remember coming here any more than he could remember the attacks he had suffered at the hands of the Taylors. Everything was foreign to him other than an occasional feeling of somehow knowing something about all of this but not being able to get a clear memory of anything. His amnesia was full blown to the point that he probably wouldn’t even remember his trek across the country to start his new life.
The more he looked about, the more uneasy he became. Other body parts were strewn about the place, carelessly discarded here and there. Whoever lived here was certainly sick. He wasn’t sure if cannibalism were involved, but whatever it was, many people had been chopped up. Whether they were alive or dead when it happened, Jake didn’t know.
Looking around once more, he saw that old rusted knives were hanging from hooks on the wall. Some type of thick, brownish residue was sticking to the blades, and Jake could only imagine what it was. He didn’t like what he was thinking. It was probably more gore left behind from severed limbs of poor unsuspecting strangers who happened upon this house of evil.
There were also a few meat hooks hanging from the ceiling with the same stuff on them. He imagined a body impaled upon one of them but the victim was not dead. The hook went into his abdomen and out the other side. His intestines were falling to the floor from the wound, and as he thrashed about, more came pouring out. He was writhing about, screaming the most unholy noise Jake could imagine. Jake put his hands to his ears to block out the sound and squeezed his eyes tight to stop the horror he seemed to be witnessing. Then it faded and Jake found himself once again alone in the cabin.
Jake started running. He crashed through the front door, hitting it so hard with his shoulder that it almost came loose from the rusting hinges, slamming against the outside wall of the house with a thunderous bang. He ran blindly into the woods that surrounded the shack, not sure where he was going, but knowing that he had to get as far from there as he could. If he didn’t he would surely lose what little sanity that he had left.
Continuing to flee, the branches whipped his face, causing old wounds to open and new ones to form. He didn’t even notice; he was in a total panic, and escape was the only thought that went through his head. He continued until he dropped down from exhaustion, and fell into a fitful sleep.
Visions of mutilated corpses with limbs missing came to him. He tossed and turned but they kept flooding into his dreams like a run away train that nothing could stop. Then people he seemed to know appeared, pointing accusatory fingers at him. They seemed to be from his past but he couldn’t be sure. They were all but unrecognizable with little or no faces left, and those whose faces hadn’t completely rotted away were in advanced stages of decomposition with flesh hanging by a thread.
Moaning and groaning, he let out piteous whimpers every now and again. He had left one nightmare back at the cabin only to fall into another in his sleep. Cats appeared in his visions, howled and hissed at him, scratching and biting him unmercifully but still he didn’t wake.
He was bombarded by scenes of death and mayhem from all sides. There was no where for him to run, no safe haven to escape these images.
Finally he awoke, shaking and drenched in sweat. He tried to get up but stumbled and fell. His head was spinning causing him to be dizzy. He waited a moment longer and finally managed to push himself up unsteadily from his resting place, but not really a resting place at all, having been tormented for God only knew how long.
He took a step to be sure that he wouldn’t fall again, and when he was able to stand without leaning against a tree, started moving once more. Unaware of it, he was wandering farther and farther away from the road and deeper into the woods. The forest was so thick here that little if no light could penetrate. He was having trouble seeing his way, partly because of the thick growth, but also, night was approaching fast.
In the distance, a coyote or a wolf started to howl. Jake moved faster, trying to get out of the tangle of bushes that seemed to reach out and grab at him. He stumbled once but managed to keep his footing. Racing on blindly, he felt like the darkness was trying to smother him, trying to suck the breath out from his lungs.
His chest felt like it was on fire with each breath that he took. At every turn, he heard or thought he heard, rustling in the bushes. He expected some creature or some mad man to come rushing at him, screaming like a banshee, and then lunging at him and ripping his throat with its jaws.
In the distance, but closer this time, one or more wolves were howling. He couldn’t see through the underbrush, but he hoped that they were baying at the moon. Chances were however, that with all of his wounds, and some fresh ones, they smelled his blood and the stench of death from the cabin that hung on him like a shroud and it was incensing them to attack, just as they would a wounded animal.
This caused him to hurry more quickly. A mental picture of a pack of wolves came to him, pursuing him relentlessly, getting ever closer and closer, and preparing for the kill. He ran for what seemed like an eternity, and then came across a small one room shack in a clearing in the middle of the forest. It was probably a hunter’s cabin, but with flash backs of what happened at the Taylors’ house still plaguing his mind, he was apprehensive about entering.
Now he definitely heard a noise off to his left just a little. It was not only a rustling, but Jake heard low guttural growls as well. Wheeling about quickly, he caught a glimpse of three of the biggest wolves he had ever seen at the edge of the woods. They were glaring at him with demon eyes, and were slowly and menacingly approaching him, one at the front and the other two circling to either side in preparation for the final attack.
Saliva dripped from their open maws, making them even more horrifying. Their fangs, razor-like in sharpness, seemed to glisten in the little light that made its way though the trees. Jake slowly backed away toward the nearby door of the cabin, trying to keep his eyes on all three predators at the same time.
Fear outweighed his apprehension; his only thought now was to escape the three beasts in front of him and get to safety inside the cabin. He reached for the door handle and tried to turn it. For a moment, it didn’t budge, as if it were locked. Jake’s terror rose as he thought that he had become trapped with no where to go, but then it opened and a smell of stale air rushed out to greet him. Quickly jerking it open, he rushed inside and slammed it behind him, not a moment too soon, because the largest of the three wolves had leapt at him and slammed into the door just as it was shut.
Now the animals starting clawing at the door and barking like dogs. The door seemed strong enough, but Jake wasn’t sure how long it could stand up to the constant onslaught it was getting. Again and again, one of the animals would throw its weight against the door and it would rattle in the frame but held solid.
In all Jake’s concern about the door, he thought with horror that it wouldn’t be long before they got wise and came in through the window. He looked around quickly, and noticed that there was only one window in the building, and it was boarded over. He breathed a small sigh of relief. It didn’t help to get him out of this predicament, but at least his pursuers wouldn’t have any easier time entering through there than they were at getting through the door.
This must be a huntsman’s lodge, he thought, and wondered how he was going to get away safely. It appeared that it had been closed up since the last hunting season had ended. Luckily, no one thought to lock the door and so he was able to get inside before being mauled.
The wild animals outside now sounded like they were fighting amongst themselves. They were snarling and yelping at each other, partly from frustration at not being able to get at him, and partly because the acrid smell of Jake’s wounds was driving them crazy with hunger.
Looking around frantically for a weapon like a gun or something, Jake’s despair rose. There was nothing in the cabin that he could use, nothing at all. Whoever was here last had cleaned the place out completely. All that remained was a wooden table and chair and a fridge with its door missing.
Even if the animals outside couldn’t get at him, it was quite possible that Jake would starve to death before anyone knew that he was there. He would die and no one would know or care. When someone finally did show up, they would find him, rotting in this hell hole.
Jake felt like a two ton weight was pressing down on him. His situation seemed completely without hope as the door would rattle in its frame again and again.
N Jake backed away from the door to the far wall and slumped down to the floor. He put his hands over his ears to try and block out the racket coming from outside, but couldn’t help but hear them scrabbling away at the door.
He sat there shivering, partly from the cold but also because his body was going into the first stages of shock. He lay down on the dust covered floor, wishing that he could wake up and find out that this was nothing more than a nightmare that he was trapped in.
A cold sweat broke out on his forehead and dripped into his eyes. Under normal circumstances, it would have stung, but Jake was so preoccupied with his current dilemma that he never even noticed. Every joint in his body ached. He felt like screaming but thought better of it.
He wanted to remain as quiet as possible, in the hopes that the trio of wolves would lose interest in him. If he was able to remain still, they might just leave and go look for easier prey, like a wounded deer or something.
He didn’t know how long he had been lying there, or if he had fallen asleep, but he realized that there were no more noises coming from outside. Holding his breath, he struggled to his feet and went quietly to the window and peered through a crack in the wood that was covering it.
At first he saw nothing and he thought that maybe, just maybe, they actually had grown tired of trying to get at him and moved on. But then he saw a movement out of the corner of his eye and saw one of them pacing back and forth just past the clearing.
The bastards were clever, he gave them that much. They had stopped their onslaught of the door and had regrouped in the thicket. It seemed that they were trying to lure him into a false sense of security in hopes that he would open the door and try to continue on his way.
Jake shuddered at the thought that these wild animals could think almost logically and that they were using tactics to get at him. At least in his mind this is what he thought. In fact they had just gotten out of the sun to rest for a while before once again trying to get the door open and then they would satisfy their hunger.
The scent of death was still in their nostrils, and the door would only keep them at bay for so long. The need to feed was so great that it was like a flame that wouldn’t go out. Once the door was shattered the three would approach slowly, savoring the look of fear in their prey’s eyes, and then they would lunge and rip and tear pieces of flesh and gorge themselves on his blood until they could eat no more. By the time that they were through with him, he would be unrecognizable. Their muzzles would be covered in blood, almost like war paint upon a raiding party. Yes, they would get at him; it was only a matter of time.
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