Skittering Secrets

“Come on,” Adal said. He had to shout to be heard over the nearby rushing river. “This way.”

Dylan hesitated, hugging himself though it wasn’t cold. You’re a grown ass man the voice of his dad said in his head. Shame straightened his back and unfurled his arms. He tromped forward, stomping on soaked branches. “Haven’t been here in years,” he shouted.

“Right?” Adal’s smile stretched beneath dark eyes. Growing up, he’d been skinny, frail. Dylan had been an athlete. Some of his physique remained, albeit over a tumorish beer belly. The skinny Adal had thickened with ropey muscle and a rough stubbled face grooved from hard living.

He reached the slope leading down to crashing water a few steps after Adal. Acoustics from the valley made the river howl on approach but go quiet at the edge. The ruins of the old bridge loomed before them. He focused on the water.

Adal nudged him. “Takes you back, doesn’t it?”

“Why are we here?”

The smile on Adal’s face was soft. Knowing. Dylan swallowed. “How long has it been?”

“Don’t know,” Dylan said. He did.

“Twenty years to the week.” Adal said. scurried down the slope of soft dirt. Didn’t fall.

Dylan cleared his throat and followed. It wasn’t that steep but the soft dirt didn’t provide much traction. He almost fell.

“You good?”

“Fine.” Anger and embarrassment turned Dylan’s cheeks crimson.

Adal plunged his hand into the water. Dylan winced. That river was runoff from snow melting high in the mountain. Biting cold. The wiry man lifted a fishing line tied from a rock to a six pack. He ripped one free, tossed it at Dylan, and ripped off another for himself.

The can was like bare ice. Dylan tried not to show his discomfort as he popped the top, using the foam as an excuse to move it from hand to hand to ease the cold ache. He hobbled to the river’s edge, keeping Adal between him and the bridge ruins. The water tumbled by, hungry, skimming layers of riverbank away, invisible, but constant.

Adal tipped his can towards Dylan. “Prost.”

They tapped cans and drank deep. It was icy and refreshing, rich and smooth. An import. Dylan couldn’t pronounce the name. The can was a quarter empty when he pulled it away and sighed. “Good shit.”

“Preach.” Adal’s was almost empty. He poured out the remains. “For Erwin.”

The chill in his gut turned to frost. Dylan spilled beer into the water. “To Erwin. We miss you.”

Adal’s smile unsettled him. But the wiry man crushed his empty can, ripped two more from the line, and set one beside Dylan’s feet as he popped open the other. “Remember the stories about this place?”

Dylan frowned. “Something about crows carrying away children or whatever.”

“Skittercrows.”

“Oh right. They were uh, river things.”

“Haints.”

“Right,” Dylan scoffed. “Every small town has their stories.”

“Some.” Adal shrugged. “Most still call them haints. Don’t you think thats interesting?”

“Not really.”

“Most have them as the same kind of story.”

“Its just low-minded ghost stories. Thats why it sounds like haunts. Just got that twang to it.”

“Low-minded. Sound like your daddy.”

“Well. He was an asshole but that didn’t make him wrong.”

“Spose so.” Adal sipped his beer before gesturing at the bridge. “That weirdness with the sound. They call it a trick of acoustics but no one’s been able to figure it out. Plenty tried. Most gave up.”

“Science is hit or miss sometimes.”

“They said it’s why Erwin fell.”

Dylan pressed the beer hand to his body to keep it from shaking. “I hadn’t thought of that. Inner ear issues cause vertigo. Makes sense”

Adal watched him, expresionless. “Sure. You ever experienced vertigo here?”

“No. Doesn’t mean its impossible.”

“It does not,” Adal agreed.

“Besides, don’t kids and adults react differently to things? Like, hear different frequencies and shit?”

“That is true.”Adal slammed back the beer and crushed the can, folding the open top and rounded bottom so they faced the sky. He flung the can. It frisbeed through the air, looking like it would sail to the other side. It slowed and dropped in the middle of the river. Water rushed past, bobbing the empty can, moving it along, but slower. Light foam and bubbles moved past at a faster clip. It was disorienting, like a magnet pulled the can along at a leasierly pace.

“Why’d you bring me here?”

“The way I heard it,” Adal said “Skittercrows are haints that live in the river. Try to cross, they pull you under. Drown you. The current flays the meat off. Bones collect at the bottom. They use the bones to reach out and grab things that come close but never crossed.”

“Okay,” Dylan said with a sharp laugh. “Why are we here?”

“To honor Erwin.” Adal turned to the ruins.

Posts rose on both sides of the river. Bricks framed stairs made from large flat riverstones spiraled a dozen feet up to the decking, uneven in height and depth. Similar remains sat on the opposite bank. From a distance the posts looked like concrete, but up close were revealed as smoothed and charred tree trunks. Curved brick supported Decking that had once stretched over the water. The center had collapsed into jagged stone teeth reaching a couple yards over the water.

Adal climbed the stairs. At the top, he popped another beer free and placed it on the palisade.

“I’ll wait down here,” Dylan yelled

Adal walked to the broken edge and started talking. Loud enough that Dylan knew he was but not enough to understand. With hesitant steps Dylan trudged up the stairs, snatching the beer at the top. Finishing the other and tossing the can over his shoulder.

“The water looks different from here,” Adal said. He walked back. “You should look.”

“No thanks.” Dylan laughed, the sound high pitched and nervous. “Im afraid of heights.”

Adal smirked. “Oh yeah? Must be recent. You and Erwin used to climb trees and the school.”

“Well, you know after…” Dylan waved his hand at the bridge and the river. “It uh, changed things for me. I got scared of heights. And water.”

“Huh.” Adal continued past him to stand between Dylan and the stairs. “That would make sense. If you were there.”

A knife appeared in Adal’s other hand. Dylan smiled because his nerves demanded some kind of reaction. “What’re you doing?”

“Tell me what happened that day.”

“I don’t-”

The knife bit into Dylan’s stomach.

“JESUS DUDE!” Dylan flung the full can in wild panic as he stumbled back. Missed by a mile. The warmth of blood on his hand as he clutched the wound was soothing. The smell of blood filled him with animal panic.

Though he smiled, Adal’s eyes were blank. “Never made sense to me that he’d be here. He believed in skittercrows. Was even made fun of him for it.” He took a small step forward.

“What are you talking about?”

“Why was he here?”

“I don’t know!”

The smile vanished. “I know the truth.”

“Truth?” Dylan snarled. Below them, the river roar was redirected by the acoustics to sound like far away voices. “He came here by himself, slipped on these mangled ass ruins, and drowned. That’s all.”

“According to the Sheriff. Your dad.”

“He investigated it, yeah. Sorry its fucking inconvenient for you but come on, this is nuts!”

Another step forward.“I believed that for a long time. But it didn’t sit right with me. It felt intentional.”

Adal lunged, swiping with the knife. Dylan threw himself back, tripping on the uneven weathered decking and nearly pitching over the broken edge into the water. His arms pinwheeled. Almost wasn’t enough. Dylan pitched forward and fell to his knees. Scrambled away from it.

“Come on man,” Dylan panted from hands and knees, tears carving warm paths down his cheeks. “Whatever this is, don’t. It was an accident.”

Adal kept distance between them. “Interesting thing happened after that accident. Your father, rather quickly, organized a team of twelve volunteers to come down here and clear all the ‘debris’ from the river. For ‘safety’. Cleared all the bones. Used Erwin’s death as proof that the river was dangerous. Destroyed the crime scene. Eight survived. The rest wouldn’t talk about it beyond saying their loss was proof how dangerous the river was.”

“Right.” Dylan sat back to his knees, hands held up, placating. “Thats all it was. Dangerous currents. There are rivers like that across the country.”

Squatting, Adal frowned. “I live out here, you know. Quarter mile east. Fixed up an abandoned cabin. Can you keep a secret? Haints are real.” He winked. Dylan wanted to throw up. My dad always said get right with nature and nature gets right with you. So thats what I did. Listened to the water. Trapped animals and fed it.” He scooted forward, pointing the knife at Dylan’s face. “I listened. Dug up Erwins bones. Brought them here. Suffered the cold as I wove his bones with rivergrass among the rocks.”

Dylan’s laugh sounded like sobs. “You desecrated his grave? Are you insane?”

Adal shrugged. “Would be if it didn’t work.”

Another sound rose amidst the churning water. A rattling, both wet and dry. Dylan wanted to look down into the water, but his eyes were locked on the knife, tip gleaming with his own blood.

Adal smiled, moving the knife like a conductor as he spoke. “The remains they inhabit have pieces of their original selves. Strong memories. Few memories are as potent as the ones of death. Once the haints filled in the missing pieces with bits of other animals I fed them. Erwin spoke to me. Told me the truth of what happened.”

Dylan swallowed. Thought about lunging. Planted a foot so he was only down on one knee. His heart raced. “You’re insane.”

“He told me you both came out here. At your suggestion. And you pushed him.”

“No,” Dylan said, calmer than he felt as the memory overwhelmed his senses. Remembered pushing the boy. Watching his eyes widen. Looking down at him on the broken edge, desperately scrabbling at the stones. Blood streaks as the nails ripped off. “You weren’t there.”

“He was.”

“Shut up.” Without realizing he was going to, Dylan lunged. It shocked him as much as Adal. The knife caught Dylan in the side as they hit the decking. He hammered a fist down into Adals face.

Once. Blood exploded from Adal’s nose.

Twice. More sprayed over the rocks.

The third swing was caught at the wrist. Living in the wilderness had made Adal strong. Pain throbbed up Dylan’s arm as the bones in his wrist ground together in the a vice grip, Adal looking at him with burning eyes above a bloody grin. He twisted and Dylan was slammed to his back, wind rushing out of him. His vision swam. Sound faded though the rattling grew louder. His loose hand found the knife, slick with his own blood. He stabbed, feeling a satisfying thunk.

Adal’s smile remained, the knife stuck in his forearm. He twisted it, blood gushing from the blade tearing flesh and muscle, but ripped the knife from Dylan’s weak grip. Adal threw the knife over paripet. Grabbed Dylan’s collar. Hauled him closer to the edge.

scrrrrrape

“I want to know why,” Adal spat. “Was it because he kissed me? Were you jealous? Did you hate him because he was gay?”

Scrrrrrape

“What?” Dylan blinked away the confusion. “I-I didn’t know. I didn’t care about that, who cares?”

“Then why?”

Scrrrrape

He could feel the edge on the back of his head. Adal was going to throw him over. Into the water. Into that rattle. “Stop. Please. I’m sorry. I wanted him to be team captain. Thats all!”

Adal sat back like he’d been struck. His jaw hung slack. “The fuck?” The death grip he had on Dylans shirt remained.

“My dad was captain in high school. He said I had to be. Erwin was on the team. I thought we were friends and he never cared about it, he was just…good. Better than me. So I figured if he didn’t care it wouldn’t matter if he turned it down. Then I could be.”

“So you killed him?”

Dylan squeezed and clawed at Adals’ wrists, but the couldn’t break the grip. He bucked his hips but couldn’t shake him. “When I asked he laughed at me. Said that I wasn’t even the second best player. Or the third. That I’d need half the team to step down. I didn’t believe him. He just needed to agree to turn it down, but he kept saying that wouldn’t change anything, that even if he agreed, he wasn’t going to be the first one they asked. He just needed to agree. If he’d just said yes then it would have been fine.”

“But?”

“He laughed. Then got mad. Then tried to push his way past me. I hit him. He hit me back. Erwin looked so ashamed when he did. Apologized. Told me not to worry about it, not to listen to my dad, that I should live my own life. Maybe try another sport. But I had to be captain. So I shoved him.”

Adals face went dark. His eyes distant and cold. “Because he wouldn’t agree with you?”

“Yes.” How long had Dylan been crying? He didn’t know when it had started. His eyes stung as the tears burned his yes. “And the fucking kicker? He was right. They picked someone else. When I asked coach what I’d need to do to make it the next year, he told me I could try enrolling in a different school. A different school.” He spat that last part out. “I was fucking humiliated.”

“And you just pushed him?”

“He slipped. Hit his head. Cracked his head open. Grabbed the edge before he went down. Blood was pouring down his face so fast. His eyes were blinking all out of sync. Looking different directions.”

“You didn’t help him up?”

“He was gone,” Dylan screamed. “His brain was a pink puffy sponge trying to squeeze out of the crack in his head.”

“Then what did you do?”

A sob burst from Dylan’s throat. “I watched. I just sat there, crying. Telling him I’m sorry. He kept muttering muh muh muh. I think he was trying to call for his mom. He didn’t get weaker he just…let go. I ran home. Told my dad. He said he’d take care of it.”

“Yeah. He did that, didn’t he?”

“Yeah, but he beat the shit out of me the next day. Stayed on my stomach so no one would see. I was shitting blood for days. Had to go to the hospital. They didn’t even ask why.”

The rattling grew louder behind them.

“Please let me go. It was an accident.”

Adal sneered and spat in his face. “Yeah. Then you lied about it. For years. You know his parents split? Couldn’t survive the loss of their child. His mom just wasted away and died a few years later. His dad drank himself to death a few years after that. Only I questioned what really happened. Your dad gave me no end of grief about it. All to protect his little boy.”

“It’s not my fault.”

“Maybe not. I don’t care anymore. You could have told the truth at any point. You didn’t.” Adal slammed his knee into Dylan’s crotch.

Pain exploded in his gut. He vomited beer, his lunch following fast on its heels. Adal scurried backwards, hissing when he put weight on his gouged arm.

The rattling sound became everything. Drowned the world. Dylan forced his eyes open. Saw the abomination above him. His scream was cut off by more vomit.

It was a mangled pillar of bones. Many of them were animal. Not all of them were. It was topped by a small human skeleton, its skull glistening wet in the overcast light. A cracked yawned from above its left eye towards the back. Rotten riverweed pusled within it, squeezing out with false life. It leaned down, a sickly green light shimmering in its skull. He saw that it wasn’t a single entity, but a pile of figures made from bones of mixed creatures. The child skeleton was raised on the shoulders of two wolf headed amalgamations. More shimmering green eyes watched from within the riverweed cloaked mass.

The skull opened but the voice came from the crack along the side. Secrets. Are. Sins.

Dylan’s mind broke. His world became his screams. He saw Erwins left arm had been replaced by a snake skeleton. Didn’t feel it wrap around his arm. Or boney fingers sinking into him like soft dough. The cold was a slap of reality when he hit the water. Replaced by agony when it started sheering his skin off layer by layer. Flooding his open mouth till his lungs burst, filing his body with the acrid river.

Dylan was still alive, somehow, when his bones started to slide free. Felt the everflowing life of the river animate them. Repurposing them into other bodies, other forms. Reshaped and remade. Riverweed wormed into his eye sockets and the gap of his missing nose to his brain, cold fingers threading among the wrinkles.

You stay with us a myriad of voices said as his brain shattered again and again, exceeding the point it knew he should be dead, yet wasn’t. In the skittering river cold.

And we will feed said Erwins dead voice as Dylan’s eyes looked up from the shimmering depths of the river. Adal waved down at them with a gleeful grin. And we will play with anyone that taunts the river.

Dylan tried to speak, but all that came out was a skittering rattle of bones clacking together in the churning depths.