There was giggling and whispering as they shifted and settled themselves. Jenny glanced in Ernie’s direction. If he’d sat closer, they might have done their best to include him, but…
Casey’s face glowed orange, like a jack-o’-lantern, firelight glinting from his eyes. “This story takes place in the Pine Barrens.”
(“So where else?” “Ssh!”)
“There was a young couple out driving.” And so began the old tale. His voice held them. Sometimes he would pause in the telling to look around in a marked manner, and the others would find themselves searching the fleeting lights and shadows as well.
(“And then the car broke down, right?” “Be quiet.”)
He told them how the boy decided to go for help, leaving the girl alone. “Roll up the windows, and make sure you lock the doors. And stay in the car. Remember that—whatever you hear, stay in the car.”
(“Uh oh.”)
The burning shadows flickered and leaped, swept over them.
Casey sucked on the stem of his pipe. “She heard it go tap, tap, tap.”
From beyond the dome of brightness, the crickets seemed to pulse louder.
(“Amelia, are you scared?”)
“She thought about trying to run for it.”
(“No!” “Stay in the car, stupid.”)
Sandy yelled and smacked at Alan, and he snickered, drawing back. Casey spoke faster now, racing through the part where the state trooper arrives and tells her to get out of the car and walk straight toward him, and not to look back what ever she does.
The soft sound of burning filled the clearing, as did the sharp smell of smoke. Patches of redder darkness erratically circled the flame, revealing first one person, then another.
“Slowly, she walked toward him. Just at the last second, she turned around.”
(“No, don’t!”)
He finished the story, explaining that her boyfriend was hanging from a branch above the car and that as he swayed in the breeze, his foot tapped the roof. After the briefest of pauses, the group giggled, groaned and chattered in unison. (“Wait a minute, I don’t understand what happened.” “You left out the part about the escaped lunatic.” “Hey, does anybody know the one about the babysitter who gets the phone calls?” “Do you know any of the Hookman stories?” “Oh, that one’s great!” “Who-man?” “You know, the escaped homicidal maniac with the hook instead of a hand.” “That’s enough. No more scary stories.” “Get out! They don’t let maniacs have hooks.” “I said, that’s enough. You’re all going to give Amelia nightmares.” “Forget Amelia, I’m the one’s going to have nightmares!”) And Casey sat back, pleased with himself and smiling because of the goose bumps on his arms.
Jenny watched for any motion in the dark that might suggest that Ernie intended to leave. The haze had thinned so that the lunar disk showed, featureless, washing the pines in dull light.
From outside the rim of brightness, came a rasping voice. “Know about the Leeds Devil?”
Everyone stopped talking.
Ernie’s thin face emerged from the darkness. “Long time ago.” Flame glinted from the eyes of the others, but in his eyes light sank, became deep embers in a face that seemed pointed and hollowed by moving shadows. “Mother Leeds was in labor.” He coughed, spat, and his mouth twitched with a smile. “Found a hut, not far from here. Maybe I’ll take you there.”
They shifted uneasily.
“Mother Leeds had twelve other kids. She cursed it.” He coughed again, a horrible rattling. “Didn’t do nothing. Wasn’t even born yet. It was hers!” He spoke haltingly and with effort, rage and shyness in his manner. “Understand? It had nobody else!” He shouted but looked directly at no one. “Cursed it!”
Isolated in the dark, they tried to find one another’s faces for reassurance.
“Unborn. Cursed. Torn from her. It clawed, fought its way out of her stinking, bloody hole.”
“Hey!” Jenny’s arm circled little Amelia’s shoulders, as though to shield her from his words. Strange to feel so vulnerable—sophisticated Jenny and her so-grownup-seeming daughter, their eyes big with fear.
“Said its father was a devil.”
“I wonder how she meant that.” Sandy attempted a snicker.
“Little baby. Looked normal. That showed what it might have been, if only she’d fucking loved it!” His voice grated. “Her fault…twisted…grew up, grew…became a fiend.” A tremor ran through him, and he looked as though he were about to laugh or scream. “Ashamed of it, ashamed of her own. Afraid of it, too. Shut it away…locked up. That’s what they wanted. They all wanted.” He breathed deeply, spat again. “The old whore used to pass food through a crack in the floor. Years. Had to live in his own piss and shit. She got old. Stunk—the basement—enough to make you puke. She didn’t know how big he was growing. Never knew.” He stabbed a twig into the embers. “One night, the twelve brothers and sisters heard something, the cellar door splintering. They heard him coming closer. Down the hall. Closer. Fucked and ate them all in their beds.”
Jenny watched him. Pacing now, he moved in front of the fire. Amelia sat very still.
“Ran out…in the dark. Door shut behind. Hung around the yard, cold and hungry. Couldn’t get back in the house. Night after night…call his mother. Begging. She wouldn’t let him in. Stayed in bed. Pretended to be sick, the bitch.” His voice dropped to a hoarse whisper. “She starved to death. The monster wandered off into the woods. These woods.”
Casey cleared his throat. “Good story.”
“Yeah, real good story,” said Alan, and as he spoke, he fed twig after twig into the embers. They all threw on wood, bringing the fire back to blazing life. The crickets seemed to pulse louder.
“You know, it sure was a long day. I sure am tired. Hey, where’d that flashlight get to? I, uh, can’t see to untie the cords on my sleeping bag.”
They all began talking a bit too fast. “What’s that over there?” Sandy pointed. “It’s like two little eyes!”
“Oh my God!” screamed Alan. “It’s the Leeds Bunny!”
Casey produced a flask of bourbon and passed it around. Ernie had already backed away. As a wind pushed heavy clouds across the night, the moon disappeared for long intervals. They started unrolling their sleeping mats. “What’s that smell?”
“What smell?” But gradually it filtered to all of them, and one after another, they wrinkled their noses in disgust. The odor of putrefaction seemed to come from several directions, as though something corrupt moved through the pines. Then it diminished and, within moments, had faded away, leaving only a thin, nauseating trace.
Jenny listened. Nothing. Crickets. She scrutinized the woods and strained her eyes to find Ernie. The fire flared for an instant, and she saw him, stiffly facing away from them.
“Where you going, Ernie?” Casey yawned.
“Yo, leave him alone,” muttered Alan. “He’s probably just going to piss.”
“Ernie?”
“Back my own camp.” Ernie paused, barely turning.
“What?” Casey stood up. “You can’t leave. It’s pitch dark. Stay here. I mean, we’ll find an extra ground cloth or…”
Jenny held her breath.
But Ernie slipped into the trees. “Not far,” he mumbled over his shoulder. “Rather sleep there.”
Insects whined. For a moment, they all stared at the spot where he’d been absorbed by the woods. Alan broke the silence. “Well, I never.”
This provoked giggles. “I’m glad he went finally. What a creep.”