The Dark Inheritance

SAYWARD

    Sayward is a small village, of 206, on the northeast coast of Vancouver Island. In order to have status in Sayward, you have to have a few things: Land, enough money for beer, and you have to be in the rivalry between the townies and the country bumpkins. There is however, one family who is respected by both sides of the village. 

THE BOLTONS

    The majority of the people in Sayward live in groups of two; a husband and a wife. Only a few homes are lived in by families. There are the Cranbrooks and the Whites, some between farmland and town, like the Amendts and the Scotts, and then a few more that live in the farm houses, like the Williams. One family in particular has been appreciated and never disagreed with ever. Those are the Boltons. Sure there may be some people who may secretly dislike them, but never once has it been brought to anyone’s attention. The Bolton’s are hard workers, every single one of them. Kyle, the father, doesn't work on the farm anymore, but works at the dry land sort. Him and his wife, Angel, have not been getting along and discussed the topic of divorce. As much as they don’t want their kids to know, all of them naturally do. The fact that they don’t sleep in the same room anymore, or don’t work together, could be indicators. The eldest son, Hugh, has been working on the farm for 20 years now. The twins, Terry and Grant have just finished their senior year of high school. Their family has over 900 acres, certainly make enough beer money, and even though they’re not in the townie-versus-country-bumpkin rivalry, they absolutely have status in the village. Their cousins the Williams, own the Haven farm where they do a corn maze, a pumpkin patch, and the strawberry patch in the summertime. 

THE NEWCOMER

    It may seem to the village that there aren't many newcomers, but on average, there’s at least one newcomer who finds their way to Sayward each year, but they never stick. About eight years ago there was someone who seemed like the kind of person to stay in Sayward. They fit with the village just like a glove, but they ended up leaving town about a month after moving in. Johnny Robinson, his name was. He came from another smaller town, Parksville, all alone, no wife and no kids. He got along fine with the folk down at the sort and most definitely got along with the bartender at the Landing, which only made his departure all the more surprising and disappointing. Some rumored that he did have a wife and kid back at home, and that was his reason for skipping town. Although people were disappointed, they soon forgot all about Johnny Robinson and his story.

    Today, July 17th, 1989, there is another newcomer. He drives with one arm hanging out of the window of his truck and listens to the birds singing away as he slows down to city limits. YOU ARE NOW ENTERING SAYWARD. As this newcomer makes his way past Haven farm, he takes a left onto Shelly road. He drives slowly past the houses, marveling at his new neighborhood. He squints his eyes while looking at the house number, house number 287. He takes a deep breath and tries not to look at the house too much while he’s still in his truck, he wants to get out and take it all in at once. He jumps out and looks up at the great size of what’s in front of him. It could certainly use a paint job. As he approaches the front door he trips on something. A small statue made of volcanic rock seems to be the culprit, still intact, it lay on its side. He picks it up and examines it. It seems as if could be Aztec, but he couldn’t be sure. He puts it back in its place and opens the front door. The door is loud and whines when moved, he leaves it open to allow a breeze into the house. He grabs the house keys that are hung up on a nail in the wall. The downstairs area is dark and the air is thick, the house hasn’t been occupied in a long time. He then heads to one of the rooms downstairs. He opens the door and flicks on the light switch, which doesn’t work. He did call the town a while back to set up utilities but they said they might not start until tomorrow. Unable to see the room, he shuts the door and heads upstairs. The stairs creak and scream and he makes his way up. The kitchen is a bit out-dated and the appliances could be replaced, but the living room sure was a beauty. 

        As the man couldn't use his stove quite yet, and the refrigerator wasn’t cold, he had no other choice but to go out for a bite. After he made a list of all the furniture he needed to buy, he felt hungry. He took his truck into town and found himself at the Landing, the sign outside welcoming him with a “WE’RE OPEN” . As he opens the door, a bell above him rings, a waitress behind the bar smiles at him briefly then shakes her head to look at him again. 

“You’re new” the waitress says with a look of surprise.

“Indeed I am” the newcomer says with a smile.

They both exchange an awkward silence, then she finally tells him to take a seat and that she’ll bring him out a menu in no time. She comes back with water and hands him a menu. 

“Where abouts are you from now?” The newcomer looks at her nametag, Jess says. 

“Calgary” The man says while raising his eyebrows, anticipating she does the same. 

“Wow, not many people from the city come all the way down here. You just stopping by?” Jess says.

“I figured I could use some time in the countryside,” the man says  “and I just bought that house on Shelly road, the big blue one”. 

“Oh how lovely! It’s always so nice having a new face around town” Jess says with a smile. “Well you’re probably starving! Let me take your order, I must say, the seafood chowder is a crowd favorite”. 

The man doesn’t bother to open the menu.

“That’ll do just fine, thank you”. 

“Now what’s your name? We oughta know if you’re gonna be living here” the woman says. 

The newcomer smiles and puts his hand out. “Briar Johnston” he says as he shakes her hand. 

“Briar, I’m Jess. It truly is lovely to meet you. I’ll bring your food out right away and leave you alone to eat” she says. 

    The locals sitting at the bar take turns glancing at Briar, making sure not to interrupt his meal before bombarding him with questions.

    The locals, after a few beers with Briar, found out where he’s from, where he went to school, that he studied journalism, and that he’s here in Sayward to relax and work on some writing of his. He did end up forgetting quite a bit as he went to bed that night, like most of the fellows names down at the bar, or whether or not he locked his front door. He did, however, remember very clearly a whole lot of talk about “the Boltons”. Some of the guys were getting frustrated with each other; someone mentioned the family name and made a comment about them being “fuckin’ weird” and then everyone was standing and all the faces around him were offly red.  

“Who are the Boltons?” Briar had asked one of the guys.

“Very powerful family here in Sayward, kind people, but you don’t want to be on their bad side, that’s for sure” the man told the newcomer. Now though, he could focus on his drunken sleep and worry about all of that in the morning. 

.  .  .

    Briar Johnston has settled nicely into his new home. He has all of his utilities set up, goes fishing every other day, and visits the Landing here and there to see the fellows for drinks. Briar had spoken to Angel at one point, asking what it's like to take care of a farm. She replied saying it was hard work, but worth it in the end. 

“Plus,”she said, “I’m sure this year the crops will be good”. 

Briar doesn’t normally get the creeps from many people, but something in Mrs Boltons eyes when she said that scared the bejeezus out of him. Her eyes had opened up and she had been smiling slightly. He tried brushing it off later that day but couldn’t shake the thought of her eyes widening as she spoke, so much so he was scared they might pop out of her head. Briar figured he could do some digging into the family, and if he found anything interesting he could write about it. 

    Briar started documenting everything people said about the Boltons, and made sure to put himself in situations where he’d run into family members. When he spoke to the eldest, he saw the same look as his mother; wide eyes that gave him the creeps. He was one of the most frightening members of the family. Kyle seemed oddly normal compared to the rest, and only after briefly meeting Briar during some fishing on the pier, he said that he was much better off with a bit of distance from the family. The twins, despite their identical features, were vastly different. Terry was quite kind and enjoyed making conversation. He asked Briar many questions about his life in Calgary and how he’s adjusting to Sayward, but Grant was a little more reserved and seemed to follow Terry’s lead in the conversation.

    During Briar’s investigation, he never felt scared for his own safety, until today. July 31st the newcomer went to the pier to do some fishing. As he’s trying to reel in a big pink, a young girl and her father approach him.

“Looks like a big one you got on there” says the father. 

“She’s fighting pretty hard,” Briar says, struggling. 

The father tells the girl to stay there as he went into the store to buy a pack of cigarettes. Briar spoke to her for a bit before finally asking about the Boltons. 

“Oh, they’re weird,” she says “ people at school say they’re the reason new people go missing here”. 

“Missing?” Briar asks as he brings the fish up. “I thought the newcomers left town”.

“Nah, that’s what they want you to think”. She says with almost warning. 

Before Briar can ask anything the father steps out of the shop, a cigarette already lit in his mouth. 

“You scaring this poor man Isabelle? Leave him alone now, let him gut his fish”. The man gives Briar a wave and then casts his rod far into the ocean. 

Briar then knew that he had to go to the farm himself and get some real answers. 

    Later that day, after grilling his salmon on the outside barbeque, he made a plan to investigate the farm. Whenever the sun went down that night, he would go to investigate.

.  .  .

    At 10:03pm, the sun finally set. Taking his truck all the way to the farm would draw too much attention, but the walk would be too far without it. He decided to park his truck across the street from the farm on a side road, hidden by trees and bushes. Briar grabs his camera, flashlight. He passes the strawberry patch and heads towards the shed behind their shop. Carefully, he creaks the shed doors open and turns on his flashlight. The walls of the shed are covered in tools. He notices on one of the tables, another statue identical to the one he had seen at his house. He turns his flashlight off and lifts up his camera, putting the flash on and taking a picture. The click sound of the camera scaring him slightly, he worries they will somehow hear him from the shed. After taking a few more photos he turns his flashlight back on and slips out of the shed carefully. He decides to go to the Bolton’s farm to take a peak around. He’s greeted with a strong smell of manure and grass. He passes the cows and walks to the watershed. He pulls the door open and flashes his light. Horrified, he takes it all in. Satanic symbols drawn on the walls with black paint, red smeared everywhere. Aztec drawings on the ground with small statues in every corner of the room. He smells something horrid; something rotting and putrid. He holds his breath and hears a buzzing noise. He looks under the desk and sees a bucket. Flies, dozens, circle the bucket. Almost too scared to look, he pulls his shirt over his nose and holds his flashlight in the same hand. He pulls the bucket out from under the desk and looks inside. Red, brown mush covers the bottom of the bucket. He turns his face away and gags. After a few deep breaths and wiping his watery eyes, he turns off the light and points his camera at the bucket. The flash clicks, and clicks, and clicks. He notices a small cream coloured something in the bucket. He zooms in on the camera and takes a photo. Briars eyes widen as he sucks in a breath and takes a step back. He falls down and covers his mouth with his hands. A tooth was inside the bucket. He feels the ground for his light and finds a notepad on the ground. He opens the notepad and sees frantic writing everywhere. 

LET THY CROPS BE BOUNTIFUL

LET THY SACRIFICE BRING PROSPERITY AND FORTUNE OH XIPE TOTEC 

Briar has never been more frightened in his life. Dates are written, June, July, August, with peoples names scribbled underneath. He recognizes Johnny Robinson. All the names have an X drawn next to them. All except one. Right there, under August, there he was. 

“What the fuck” he says out loud. 

He flips to the following page and reads. There are instructions, labeled for the children on how to wash blood off the concrete by the watershed, how to cut the bodies and to put the head in the bucket. Step by step instructions on how to bury the body parts in the corn field, and what to say in order to please the gods for your sacrifice. He feels lightheaded. He takes photos of everything in the watershed. He heads back to the corn maze at the Williams to get proof. 

    He arrives at the Williams. He notices the family is up, everyone, even the Boltons, all sitting around a campfire in the backyard. He needs that proof; without it there are too many what-ifs. He carefully ducks down in the corn, his flashlight is off; it would be too noticeable. The light from the stars will have to be enough for now. He gets to the middle of the corn and gets down on his knees. He starts digging with his hands. He looks back and has a perfect view of the family from here. He digs and digs, his fingers hurting and his nails sore from the dirt overfilling them. He finally reaches something, relief and fear wash over him at the same time, a weird feeling, not one he’d ever want to feel again. He digs around the object and uncovers human bones, arm bones, leg bones, and a skull. He takes his camera out, he realizes he’ll need to use the flash. Without it you wouldn’t be able to see the bones. The sound it will make, the light, they’ll see him, he thought. They’ll see me and they’ll kill me. He wishes he had picked another town. He can feel his heart rate increase, his heart coming out of his chest. He lifts up the camera and all he can hear is his heart beat. Loud and rumbling in his ears. His breathing speeds up and his hands start to shake, he takes a shaky breath out and clicks the button. A bright flash…click. His eyes go wide and he doesn’t breathe. He whips his head back and sees everyone stand up. Everyone is looking. He can’t move. Suddenly one of them starts running towards the corn. Now he can move, his legs feel like they want to jump out of their sockets. He pushes his way through the corn, his camera bouncing on his chest like a ping pong ball. He jumps over the ditch and stumbles a bit, he knows he shouldn’t but he looks back, almost everyone is darting towards him. Hugh is closest to him, his eyes wide and shiny. 

“I’m gonna get you” he says, almost a grunt. He looks crazy. 

Briar reaches his truck and hits Hugh with the door, he falls down and clutches his head. Briar finds his keys and starts the truck, one of Williams catches up and rips the door open, Hugh gets up and grabs Briar, ripping his shirt. He sees other people turn on their house lights, some running over to watch or join. Briar pushes and kicks, fighting for his life. Hugh still has a hand on Briar when he puts the truck in drive and stomps on the pedal. Briar gives him a final kick and he goes flying off the truck like a bug off the windshield. He sees people standing around watching, yelling. His breathing stays fast and his eyes dry with both hands on the wheel, his chest moving up and down. He’s not sure how long he’s been driving before he takes a deep breath and cries a bit. The sky starts getting lighter and the stars are becoming less visible. WELCOME TO CAMPBELL RIVER.