Harvest Moon-- A Murder in Forest Glenn
Harvest Moon-- A Murder in Forest Glenn
XII
Chris and Zach drove around for hours, trying to find someplace to be or something to do. They'd both been out of high school for a year and a half, and cut themselves off from their high school friends for different reasons.
Being a college wrestler became the focus of Chris’ entire high school existence. Even to his teammates, he wasn't much of a friend, more of a well-liked acquaintance.
Zach had one too many brushes with the law and with several of his friend's former girlfriends. Zach didn't burn bridges, 'he burned down the fields and then salted them so nothing would ever grow again,' was the analogy Chris used. The comparison to how Rome treated Carthage went over Zach's head.
Much to Chris' surprise, the boys found their way to a party in affluent Forest Glen. He was more than a little embarrassed when they found themselves surrounded by high school kids. Teenagers were scattered about, drinking, laughing, making out, having a good time. The teenagers were having a good time. The twenty-year-old recent college dropout, not so much.
Being trapped with a bunch of drunk kids annoyed him, but being around a bunch of drunk rich kids was worse. Growing up in blue-collar Edgebrook, Chris never felt comfortable around wealthy people. Even the Park Ridge kids that went to Notre Dame made him feel uneasy. Less than. He had to run out of there before he said or did something stupid.
Chris pushed his way through a group of cute girls on his way toward the back door. He'd be lying if he didn't admit part of him wanted to say hi and strike up a conversation. Then he remembered he was too old to be hanging out with girls who probably didn't have their license yet. Easier to get away from these people, even if it was thirty-seven degrees outside.
He walked into the center of the spacious backyard and exhaled. Chris had a bad habit of holding his breath when things were uncomfortable. Coach Anello tried to fix it his freshmen year. Chris was in far better shape than his opponents, but whenever the match got close, he held his breath. It took more than a year to break the habit in competition. In real life, it was still a problem.
Once the air returned to his lungs, Chris noticed that the grounds backed up to Forest Glen Woods, a small forest preserve. He took a seat on a bench near some trees and wrapped his arms around his body. Shivering beat the alternative of being stuck inside with a bunch of kids. Or at home.
"Shane-O!"
Chris swore Zach's shrill and squeaky voice could travel for miles. Annoying, but for some reason he made everyone laugh. Chris looked back toward the house and found Zach standing by the door with underage jailbait under each arm. No good came from this.
"Hey, Shane-O, you out here?" Zach called out again.
Zach was well aware Chris hated being called Shane-O. The upperclassmen tried to saddle him with the nickname when they were freshmen. It might have stuck if he weren't better than all the seniors on the team. The dumbass name sounded worse coming out of Zach's semi-intoxicated mouth tonight.
"I'm over here," Chris responded, fearing if he didn't, he would have to hear that god-awful name again.
"Hey, man. I don't know if you remember these two ladies," Zach paused and looked back and forth between a short brunette and a taller blonde.
"Come to think of it, I don't know if I remember these two ladies."
Both girls playfully hit Zach in the chest. Neither sober enough to be offended.
"I'm kidding. I'm kidding! Pam and Jessie here were just asking me about my friend that went to Owens State."
"Was that you?" the blonde girl, who might have been either Pam or Jessie, asked. "The state champion?"
"Uh, yeah."
"I remember you," she said again with a smile.
She was cute. If she were a few years older, Chris might consider doing something else. But not today.
"Thanks. Look, I gotta make a call," Chris said, turning his back on his friend and the two young ladies.
Chris inherited every bit of his father's tact. Zach shook his head in disappointment. There went his potential wingman.
"Excuse me. I'll be back in a minute." Zach ushered the girls back to the party. Neither one seemed to really care.
"You know, if there's one thing you should've learned in college, it's how to get laid."
"Zach, will you look around here. We're hanging out with high school kids. We used to make fun of those guys."
"You always look at the negative. The way I see it, we're at a party full of rich kids, drinking for free. There are girls in there that want us specifically because we used to be somebody. Goddamn, man, this is what life is all about!"
Chris stared at his flustered friend, not quite sure what to say.
"What happened to you? You used to be fun."
"That's a lie," Chris said with a smile.
"True, but at least you did stuff. What do you do? You don't go to school. You don't have a job. You don't wanna party. You don't do anything. I love you, buddy, but I got news for you: you suck."
The truth stung a bit, but Chris couldn't help but laugh. Zach was right.
"It's not that, it's...." Chris struggled to find the next word.
"I miss him too," Zach said. "But you gotta let it go."
CLLLKKK
Chris didn't say anything. Zach had a point, but it didn't matter. Instead, Chris turned to his left. He heard something. His eyes shifted back and forth, scanning the yard, but didn't see anything. Probably a tree branch.
"For real, either get your shit together or stay here with me and embrace your inner fuck-up," Zach said, slapping Chris on the shoulder.
The empty yard was quiet and cold, but something in the air smelled off. Something more than a teenie party. His cop-kid instincts took over.
"I think I'm gonna bounce outta here then," Chris said.
"You pussy."
Maybe.
"Seriously, man. I gotta get a hold of my dad. I feel bad about what happened."
"You feel bad? He almost ripped my arm off!" Zach said, walking over to the metal gate separating the yard from the forest preserve.
"Yeah, I'm sorry about that. I don't know what -- what are you doing?" Chris asked.
"I gotta piss."
Zach unzipped and began to water the tall, black gate separating the backyard from the woods.
Not feeling the need to watch, Chris turned around and pulled his cellphone out. He dialed his father, trying to find the right way to say, I'm sorry we fought, but you're out of your mind.
Zach wobbled a bit and rubbed his eyes with his free hand. He didn't notice the shadowed hulk scaling the top of the gate. It danced along the fence before perching in the corner, settling fifteen feet in the air, slightly out of their line of sight. Though cloaked in darkness, its head seemed slightly illuminated by the glow of these strange yellow eyes.
Jack's voicemail answered the call. Chris hung up and shook his head. He knew better than to try to reach him after dark. Maybe tomorrow they'd have a more relaxed discussion. Yeah, right.
Chris turned back and saw something crouching atop the fence. It stared right through Chris with those piercing yellow eyes. What the hell? Before he could say anything, Zach shouted.
"Well, screw you! I'll take 'em both. Your loss, chump-stain!"
The being quickly turned its head, cranking its neck around like an owl. It hissed in a shrill tone that made both of them cover their ears, nearly dropping them both to their knees. It leapt into the air, crashing onto Zach's chest. Chris dropped his phone and took off in a full sprint toward whatever mounted his friend.
"Get off of --"
Chris couldn't finish his sentence. Before he knew it, the thing drove its back hand right into his face. The force of the smack hit harder than anything he’d ever felt. The world went black. He came to a few seconds later on the cold, snow-covered lawn. His head spun and a dull hum rang through his ears. He couldn't remember his own name. The concussion rattled inside his brain. After ten years of wrestling, it's the one thing he recognized.
Zach's scream made him remember. He stumbled back up to his feet, and again, made eye contact with the being. Chris thought about charging since it had stopped mauling his friend. But he couldn't. He wanted to, but his legs wouldn't cooperate.
Slowly, its head tilted to the right, like a confused dog. The evening shadows and his clouded mind made it too hard to focus on anything except those glowing yellow eyes. He took a step toward the being, but paused when it flinched at him. He never saw the blow coming, but it hurt. As Chris collapsed to the ground, it leapt up off Zach and scaled its way up the fence. In seconds, it disappeared into the woods. For a few moments, he stared, motionless, trying to figure out what happened.
A water-logged cough brought Chris back into the real world. Zach choked on the blood pouring from his throat. Chris crawled over and grabbed his friend's hand.
"Holy shit! What the fuck?!"
Zach tried to speak, but only made a watery gurgle. The thing in the yellow-eyed mask repeatedly stabbed him in the neck, and blood was everywhere. Chris grabbed hold and tried to stop the flow of blood from Zach's throat. Chris saw hundreds of his father's bloody crime scene photos. His brain knew how to disconnect when the pictures crossed his sight. This was different. This was happening in front of him. He didn't know what else to do but cry as the only real friend he had slipped away.
Chris screamed until his vocal chords trembled and cracked. He didn't cry out for help, he just screamed. Burying his head into Zach's chest, he cried, and kept squeezing his friend's hand long after it mattered anymore. Chris refused to let go. The warm blood from Zach's neck melted the thin layer of snow around them.
Chris pulled Zach's phone out of his pocket and dialed 911. As he incoherently babbled, he finally let go of Zach's hand.
In the center of Zach's palm was a freshly-carved pentagram.