Midnight Run

“There it is again!”

“Oh come on what do you mean?”

“I don’t know… it sounds like it’s getting closer”

“You’re a real wuss for such a big man, I gotta tell ya.”

Dick and Charlie were sitting on the bank of a river. It was just after 7, and the last warm glows of sunlight were slowly being replaced by shadows and muddy indistinct images. A bottle of whiskey sat between them, and smoke curled from Dick’s cigarette. This was their place, off the beaten path and through thick brush. They had been coming here for two years now. It was their little escape. The view was spectacular, the dense forest opened up to a small clearing of rushing water, towering oaks, and the music of frogs and insects coming alive.

Charlie shifted his weight forward and grabbed the bottle of whiskey. He loosened the cap and took a swallow that made Dick feel ill. When they would walk back from their evening debauchery he could almost hear the booze sloshing around in Charlie’s hollow leg. They both agreed these sessions were good for them. Good for the soul.

They had been here for over an hour and had just started to notice the sounds of something lurking in the woods. This, of course, was not uncommon. Rats and deer and raccoons stalked them from afar. They were the big mammals though, and none dreamt of messing with them.

Charlie stood up suddenly, his eyes sunken from the muscular relaxation of the booze.

“I can’t handle this man. I’m gonna go back.”

“Come on man at least wait for me to get my fill. We’ve only been out here for an hour. My wife is gonna think something’s up if I’m home too early.” Dick almost begged.

“Well, that’s just your problem Dick. You gotta stop putting your problems on me cuz I’m liquored up and starting to get the heebie-jeebies sitting out here all alone.”

“You’re gonna be more alone if you go back without me, but have your way I don’t wanna be a burden. Just make sure to yell real loud and clear if that guy you hear pulls a knife on ya.” Dick said with a grin.

“Fuck you, Dick. I got a bad feeling is all. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Charlie turned and walked into the forest, following the familiar path they had carved out over the years with their footsteps. Dick listened as long as he could until he was sure he wasn’t coming back. He hated it when Charlie cut out early, but it did give him time to smoke. He switched from his cigarette to a small joint he’d been carrying in his coat pocket. He held the edge of it to the flame of his lighter until it started to smoke softly. Dick lay flat on the grass and took a long drag and held it as long as he could. The theory went that if you held in a puff of kush long enough and chased it with a shot of whiskey, your wife would be too caught up with your ass stumbling about to notice the smell of weed. Dick thought she must know, and if she really did he was grateful for her silence. Some things, men need to think they’re doing in secret.

He took another puff of his joint, sucking deeply into his lungs and savoring the moment in his little slice of the world. It was at that moment Dick felt the overwhelming feeling that someone was watching him. He sat up straight and looked across the river. He scanned the line of trees, searching for a pair of eyes. The eyes he would see would be no normal eyes, but red eyes. Hateful eyes. No such eyes met his as he stared into the abyss of ever-darkening trees, but the certainty of being watched could not leave him.

This weed is makin me paranoid.

Dick stood up and felt a rush of light-headedness. He sat back down hard and for a moment felt like he was going to vomit. The last thing he needed was to come home with the smell of booze and puke on his lips. He used an arm as a crutch and got himself to his feet, though he wobbled quite a bit as he did. He descended the path as he had hundreds of times before, and practiced walking in a straight line and what he would say when he got home.

Hi honey, oh yes poker was nice. Jimmy’s wife is moving along just fine she’s barely even showing but give it a few more weeks she’ll start poking out… Oh no I played it tight tonight, only lost $20 but it was all good fun.

His world turned over slowly as he walked. He bumped into trees and caught himself before he tripped over a tree root.

I am royally fucked up.

He was very fucked up. Mixing booze and weed and a bit of the ol’ nic always put him into a very strange state but tonight he was really feeling it.

That’s what I get for boozing on an empty stomach. It always comes back to bite. 

He stopped to take in his surroundings. That feeling of being watched had not quite left him. The booze was slowing him down but the weed was making him paranoid, and he thought the trees housed something in their branches for him. He didn’t want to know what they were holding.

His walking had turned into a drunken stumble. He needed to get out of the woods now. He needed to get back to his wife and hold her. The thought of burying his nose in her neck and smelling the faint lavender scent swirling around her was the motivation he clung to keeping him moving.

Behind him, a stick snapped, but it sounded more like knuckles cracking. He froze, unable to turn around and see what was lurking behind him. The hairs on the back of his neck rose. It seemed as if all the strength in his body had been concentrated into the pounding of his heart against his rib cage. He turned to look back, knowing it would be nothing. It had to be nothing. His imagination was getting the better of him and this weed it was just playing tricks…

His eyes were met by nothing. The feeling of relief he thought he would feel escaped him, and was replaced by an even greater feeling of dread. He stood there with his muscles frozen, his eyes darting through the darkness searching for a shape. Turning with a quick, twitching motion, he began to run. His uncoordinated body brushed against trees and bushes as he attempted to stagger out the way he had come. Was he going the right way? He didn’t know, all he knew was he needed to leave this place. The darkness was apt to swallow him whole if he didn’t escape.

His foot snagged on a root. He tumbled to the ground, his face smashing into the dirt. Slowly, arms quivering and numb, he pushed himself onto his knees and felt the raw skin of his forearms. They had been cut up. He was rolling down his sleeves when again he heard a snap behind him. Fear rose in his throat and caught there, unable to be swallowed. This time the sound was closer. Dick turned to face the darkness again.

A man was standing behind him. His face was impossible to make out in the dark, but he was tall and Dick could see that he was smiling. The man made no attempt to move. After what felt like an eternity, words puttered out of his mouth.

“Wh… who aaare you”

Silence. The man's grin seemed to broaden as if he were amused with the tone of voice squawking from Dick’s throat. To his horror, the man took a step forwards, his eyes never leaving his prey.

Dick’s body went ice cold and as he tried to shuffle away on his hands and knees. The man looked even taller from this point of view and he was approaching at a leisurely pace. Like a man walking towards a trap that just snared a screeching rabbit. A soft beam of light glinted off of a cleaver the man was pulling out of his coat pocket.

The man moved in a smooth, almost gliding fashion. His smile bobbed in the darkness. To his horror, the man began to sing in a deep, hypnotizing voice.

“Twas brillig, and the slithy toves”

He strolled towards him, eyes widening, a soft giggle escaping his shining teeth.

“Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:

All mimsy were the borogoves,

And the mome raths outgrabe.”

Dick stumbled to his feet, turned and sprinted for his life. His feet moved like pistons, his mind commanding him to move. Oh God please dear God just keep me moving.

“BEWARE THE JABBERWOCK, MY SON!”

The man was shrieking with laughter, running at him, hating him. Blood pounded through Dick’s ears and his throat synched shut, causing his breath to come and go in desperate wheezes.

“THE JAWS! HAHAHA, THE JAWS THAT BITE. THE CLAWS! THE CLAWS THAT CATCH BWAHAHAHA!”

A cold hand closed around Dick’s ankle and yanked him through a bush of thorns. His face and torso scraped against the earth and in a scream, he rolled to see the man. For a brief moment, he saw his deep blue eyes, hateful and full of lust. The cleaver was raised over his head.

“BEWARE, MY SON, heh heh, BEWARE THE JABBERWOCK!”

The cleaver flashed and opened his chest with an explosion of pain. Dick attempted to scream but his throat had seized operation. The Jabberwock pried the cleaver free of his chest and he hacked an even wider hole into his prey’s chest. The last thing Dick saw was the Jabberwock pulling his chest apart, and with his last second of life, he felt hands enter his body and begin to rip him apart.