Witch Island Read online

  They heard a rustling from the woods. Something was coming straight for them, moving fast. The girls hid behind Darren, who picked up a log and was holding it like a club.

  “Jim?” Gwen called.

  “It’s me,” Jim replied. “I’m coming.”

  “You see,” Darren said, turning around. Relief flooded through him. “Jim’s fine. We’ll get Steve and Julie. You guys get to the water and—” Darren cried out in pain. He arched his back and reached behind him, turning and struggling to pull out what was stabbing him.

  The girls screamed and jumped back, Darren’s back revealing the truth—a vine had shot from the woods and was sticking out of him.

  Darren felt the familiar, intense heat enter him, as if he was being pumped with liquid flame. His body went rigid. “R-run…” he managed to say. The searing pain spread throughout his body, and he knew he was being possessed again. He still had control over his left arm and reached around to grab the vine. He yanked and felt his insides pull, as if the vine was entangled throughout his body. His arm quickly grew hot and it was no longer under his control.

  Gwen screamed, then grabbed a shocked-looking Melinda by the collar and pulled her, hoping to get her to move, but Melinda wound up tripping over her own feet and crashed to the ground.

  Darren watched in horror as he sprang forward and backhanded Gwen. The sound of his hand colliding with her cheek thundered across the clearing. Gwen cried out as she flew. She hit the ground with a thud and went silent.

  Melinda got to her feet and ran to Gwen. Darren felt his facial muscles pull back into a grin as he sprinted behind Melinda. Darren screamed for her to watch out, but nothing came from his mouth. He reached out and grabbed her, then spun her around so that she faced him. He cocked back his arm and launched a fist, connecting squarely with Melinda’s jaw.

  Nooooooo! he yelled in his head, feeling as if he might explode, and saw his love’s torment in slow motion.

  Melinda’s eyes rolled back as her head snapped to the side. Her jaw moved ahead of her face and he knew it was broken, maybe shattered. Teeth exploded forth, followed by speckles of blood. Her body twirled like a top before it crumbled to the ground.

  Darren needed to stop this, to beat the witch or whatever was controlling him. He was strong, powerful, but no matter how hard he tried, his body wouldn’t obey. He glanced over to where Gwen lay. She was getting up, moaning, in obvious discomfort.

  Darren stomped over to her, feeling the heat intensify within him. He snatched her from the ground by the shirt collar and jeans, then heaved her across the camp as if she were a bale of hay. Gwen’s arms flailed wildly, her legs bicycling. She hit the ground hard, a plume of dust exploding from beneath her. She lay twisted and unmoving, arms and legs bent awkwardly.

  A blur of motion caught Darren’s attention. He turned to see Melinda coming at him, one of the hot dog skewers held high above her head. She meant to hurt Darren, and he was happy about it. Her eyes were wide with intent, but a shiver ran through him when he saw the lower part of her face sway and jiggle as she ran, her jaw unhinged and broken.

  Melinda came in recklessly, but fast. She brought the skewer down, pain evident on her face. Darren welcomed the blow, anything to keep him from killing her. He didn’t want to die, praying the damage wouldn’t be too bad, but enough to stop him from being able to hurt the girls. But then his arm went up and he caught Melinda by her wrist, stopping her futile attack with ease. With his free arm, he elbowed Melinda in the nose, crushing it. Her head jerked back as she stumbled away. The skewer slipped from her grasp and clunked to the dirt floor. Blood gushed from her nostrils, covering her rubbery-looking jaw in red. The intense, killer glare was gone from her eyes, replaced by a look of disbelief and shock as she sat on her ass.

  Darren bent and scooped up the skewer. He tossed it from hand to hand, eyeing Melinda. She looked up at him. Her body trembled. She tried crab-walking backward, but Darren jumped and landed on her, straddling her midsection.

  Melinda let loose an awkward scream, her unhinged jaw clearly affecting her speech. She struggled with her arms, punching and swatting at him. Her blows were less threatening than a baby’s. He swatted her arms aside and pressed the skewer’s point between her breasts. She put her arms on his wrists, trying to stop him from stabbing her, but he wasn’t even trying yet, only resting the tip against her, toying with her. He stared into her eyes. Tears fell down the sides of her face.

  “Darren, please…I know you’re in there,” she said.

  “Yes, he is,” his mouth said, but it wasn’t his voice. Melinda’s eyes widened with fright.

  Darren leaned forward, putting his weight on the cooking implement’s handle. The spear punctured Melinda’s flesh. Red liquid pooled, like water from an underground spring. Darren’s eyes were locked with Melinda’s, and he saw the pain in her eyes as the needle-like tool bit deeper. She cried out, head jerking back and forth. She let go of his arms, the strength no longer there to do so. The metal sank deeper, piercing the breast bone, finding the heart. Blood leaked from her mouth. She shivered, struggling for freedom, for breath.

  Darren grinned, not taking his eyes from hers. With a final shove, he pinned Melinda to the ground, the skewer piercing half a foot of soil beneath her. More blood oozed from her mouth, thick and dark, almost black in color. Her eyes practically popped from their sockets as her body went rigid, and then she was still, her body limp, lifeless. Darren had watched the light go out in his love’s eyes, and went insane inside his own head, kicking, yelling, scratching and clawing, pounding and stomping. He promised to kill the witch, make her suffer forever. She would beg for him to kill her, and he would, but not before devouring her, letting her dissolve and melt in his intestines, turning her into the excrement that she was, only to excrete her and let her waste away.

  A scream made him turn his head. Gwen was standing, hands over her mouth, face glistening with tears. “You, you killed her…”

  Darren hollered at her to run from inside the prison. Why hadn’t she run? He pulled the skewer from Melinda’s corpse and stood.

  Jim heard screams. Something terrible was happening. He pushed himself harder, slashing blindly in front of him as he ran, barely dodging trees and low-hanging limbs. He took more damage, pokes and scrapes across his already bruised and bloodied flesh. He was sure the witch was at the camp, tormenting his friends. She had to know he was coming. It felt as if the forest was clawing at him, the trees her fingers, slowing him down. He took pleasure each time he snapped or sliced a branch.

  The screams were right in front of him now. He saw the light from the fire. He ran harder, knowing he could be the difference between his friends living and dying. His right foot landed awkwardly, the ground uneven. His ankle turned. Pain exploded, and he went down. He braced himself with his hands, making sure to grip the machete tightly so he wouldn’t lose it. He slammed shoulder-first into a tree trunk, stopping more abruptly, the pain white-hot.

  He rolled over, fearing the worst from both injuries. He flexed his arm and shoulder. It hurt, but he was okay. It wasn’t broken, but he realized he no longer had the machete. The impact had jarred it from his grip.

  He searched the ground on hands and knees, sifting through leaves, rocks and other forest debris. His ankle was on fire, but the pain was fading. Something stung his fingers. He pulled his hand back, afraid something had bitten him. He put a finger into his mouth and tasted blood. He returned his hand to the ground, felt the steel of the machete’s blade, walked his fingers down it and grabbed the handle.

  Relief flooded through him, but it was only for a second. Screams came from the camp again.

  Using a tree, Jim pulled himself up and balanced on his good leg. He tested his injured ankle, shifting his weight from foot to foot, feeling only a little pain, but nothing he couldn’t deal with. Maybe later if it swelled it would hurt more, but for now he was okay.

  He burst through the tree line less than thirty seconds later. Melin
da was lying on the ground, her face broken, almost unrecognizable. Her eyes were open, unblinking, but it was her chest that told the whole story—a blood-soaked mess that dripped down her sides and pooled around her.

  Darren was facing away from him, walking toward Gwen. He had a hot dog skewer in his right hand, the thing dripping with blood.

  Jim had been careless. He never should’ve left the girls with Darren. But he’d had to try to save Shay.

  Jim ran at Darren, forgetting everything except that he needed to save Gwen, and if it meant stopping Darren by any means, then so be it.

  The big guy must have heard him coming, or maybe it was Gwen’s eyes that gave Jim away. Darren spun around as Jim reached him, the ring exposed and held out like a superhero in flight. All Jim had to do was make contact with Darren and the witch would be expelled. Darren’s eyes grew wide, his focus on Jim’s hand, but it was too late as the ring came into contact with Darren’s flesh. The big guy howled in agony and was thrown back. He and Jim both crashed to the ground. A shimmer of hot air passed over Jim, circled the immediate area, then shot with a banshee’s shriek into the forest.

  Jim pushed himself to his feet and was met by Gwen, who wrapped her arms around him. She cried, telling him that Melinda was dead. Jim wanted to be there for her, but they needed to leave. He pried her loose. “I know everything really sucks right now, but we need to get the hell out of here.”

  She nodded and wiped away her tears. She turned toward Darren, his large form face-first in the dirt. “What about him? I don’t think I can be around him. He killed Melinda.”

  “It wasn’t him, Gwen,” Jim reminded her. “It was the witch. You know that, right?”

  “I don’t know what to think anymore.”

  “We can’t leave him here. The witch will kill him.”

  “Okay, we’ll leave, with him. Did you find Shay?”

  Jim looked at her, frowned, and shook his head.

  “Oh my God,” Gwen said, shaking. “Shay’s dead. They’re all dead. We’re going to be killed, aren’t we?”

  Jim grabbed her by the shoulders. “No. We’ll be fine. I’ve got the ring. It will protect us.”

  “You, not us.”

  “As long as I’m with you, you’re safe.” Jim let go of her. He went over to Darren and knelt, then shook his friend. “Wake up, buddy, Come on.”

  Darren stirred, groaning. He rolled over and opened his eyes. “What…happened?”

  “We need to leave, buddy, okay?” Jim said.

  Darren sat up, rubbing his head.

  Jim stood, holding out his arm to help his friend up. Darren took it and got to his feet. The big guy was woozy as was evident by his shaky legs. Darren eyed Jim, then Gwen, who was hiding behind Jim. Darren’s eyes then went to something behind them, and Jim knew it was Melinda’s body. Darren shoved Jim hard, knocking him and Gwen a few steps back. Jim raised the machete in front of him, but relaxed when Darren didn’t charge.

  “Stay the hell away from me, the both of you,” Darren said. He put his hands to the sides of his head and looked like he might crush it. “I. Killed. Her.”

  “It wasn’t your fault,” Jim said. “You were possessed. The witch knows how strong you are, so she picked you.” He stepped toward his friend.

  Darren held out his arms and took a step back. “Jim, I’m warning you to stay away.”

  “It wasn’t you,” Jim pleaded. “Tell him, Gwen.”

  Gwen hesitated, then stepped out from behind Jim. “Darren, I…it wasn’t you. You know that. Melinda knows that, and she’d want you to be safe. To leave.”

  “Yeah,” Jim said. “We need to go before the witch returns.”

  Darren shook his head. A tear rolled down his cheek. “You guys go. I can’t leave. Don’t want to leave. I watched her die. Stared into her eyes and watched the life leave them. She was terrified.”

  Jim squeezed the machete and shook his head in frustration. “Enough people have died tonight. I’m not going to let you be one of them, too. Come with us.”

  Darren looked up at Jim with sad eyes. He looked ready to fall down. “Okay, fine. For Melinda.”

  “Good,” Jim said. He and Gwen turned to leave. Jim was shoved forward, feeling the machete get ripped from his grip. “What the hell?” He spun around, put his arms back to protect Gwen.

  “I don’t feel right inside,” Darren said, tapping his head with the side of the machete. “Something is missing. I felt it earlier, after the witch left me the first time, but now it’s worse.” He shook his head. “Something isn’t right in me anymore.” He put both hands around the weapon’s handle and pointed the tip at his throat.

  “Darren, don’t,” Jim said, springing forward to stop his friend, but he was too late, and watched the blade plunge into Darren’s throat. Blood spewed like a burst hose, caking the blade in red.

  Gwen screamed.

  Darren stumbled around like a drunk, coughing and gagging. He fell to his knees, smiled at Jim, then collapsed face-first to the ground. The machete was shoved farther in by Darren’s weight and poked out the back of his skull.

  Jim grabbed Gwen’s hand and was ready to take off down the trail, but stopped himself.

  “What is it?” Gwen asked.

  Jim stared at his dead friend. He released Gwen’s hand and stood over the corpse. “We need the weapon,” he said.

  With a grimace of disgust, he gripped the machete’s handle with both hands and placed his foot against Darren’s head. Grunting with effort, he pulled. The machete came free with a wet, sloshing sound, as if Darren’s body was a large piece of human lasagna. The blade dripped with gore. He wiped the hacking implement off on his dead friend’s back, then grabbed Gwen by her hand and took off down the trail.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Jim and Gwen reached the grassy beach area. They were bent over and breathing hard. Running had been a nightmare, with no flashlight and worrying that the vines would snatch Gwen and take her away. Jim kept his ring-wearing hand clasped to her hand, which slowed them down a little as Gwen was a much faster runner than him. He hoped that by her touching the ring, she would be safe, but he really had no way of knowing if his assumption was true, or if it was just the ring-wearer that was protected.

  “Who goes there?” a deep voice asked.

  Jim and Melinda looked up, Jim ready with the machete. A flashlight beam came to life, shining in their eyes, making it impossible to see who it was. “It’s Jim Ryan and Gwen Carrington.”

  “Please, we need help,” Gwen said.

  The light moved to reveal the sheriff’s leathery face, the many years of smoking damaging his skin.

  “Oh my God, Sheriff,” Jim said. He and Gwen hurried over to the man.

  “Jim, what the hell is going on?” the sheriff asked.

  “You wouldn’t believe us if we told you,” Jim answered. “But we need to leave, now.”

  “Have you seen, Billy?”

  Jim shook his head. “No, why, is he supposed to be here?”

  “The canoes,” Gwen said. “That’s how our canoes disappeared.”

  “I got a call from Billy. He was in trouble—”

  “Sheriff, we need to leave,” Gwen said. “People are dead.”

  “Dead?” the man asked. He looked stricken.

  “Sheriff, we haven’t seen Billy,” Jim said, “but you have to believe us when we say that we need to leave before—”

  “It’s the witch,” the man said, flatly.

  “We’re not making this up, Sheriff,” Gwen said. “It is the witch.”

  Jim looked at Gwen, then at the sheriff. Even in the low light, he saw fear in the man’s eyes, and he knew the man wasn’t mocking them. “You believe it, don’t you, Sheriff?”

  The man nodded, and slid his flashlight into his belt loop.

  “Then you see why we have to go,” Gwen said. “She’s killed all of our friends.”

  “We can’t leave,” the sheriff said.

  “What?” Gwe
n asked, her voice frantic. “Why not?”

  “Because she’s loose now. Over the years, people have gone missing. Reported strange things, sinking boats and whatnot, but nothing like this.”

  “She’s definitely loose,” Jim said. “I think it’s our fault. Our friend, Shay, removed some railroad spikes with strange markings on them over by the clearing. That’s when all the weirdness and killing started.”

  “I know the place,” the sheriff said. “We need to stop her from getting off this island.”

  “What we need to do, Sheriff, is leave and tell the authorities,” Gwen said. “Get some people who are used to dealing with this kind of shit, if there are such people. Let them find your son.”

  “I called in my location.” The man paused, his lip quivering. “My son’s already dead.”

  “I’m leaving,” Gwen insisted, heading toward the water. “I’ll swim if I have to.”

  Jim grabbed her by the wrist. “Wait.”

  “Jim?” Gwen said. “We need to leave.”

  “Sheriff, can the witch get off the island?” Jim asked.

  “I’m not sure. If you people removed something that was holding her here, then I’d think so. From what I know, she’s been trapped here since the early 1900’s, and it’s impossible for her to leave unless she’s gained enough power, which will allow her to break free from her true cage, her bones. We can’t allow that to happen.”

  “How do you know all this?” Jim asked.

  “Knowledge passed down from parents and grandparents. I’m no expert, but if she’s loose like you say, then we need to put her back.”

  “Put her back?” Gwen asked. “And I suppose you know how to do that?”

  “Yes, I do,” the sheriff said, closing his eyes.

  “No,” Gwen said. “She’ll kill us. If we leave, they’ll be no one to possess and she won’t be able to get off the island.”

  “Until the next person comes along,” Jim said, understanding why they needed to stop the witch tonight. He was ready to hear what the sheriff had to say. He turned to Gwen. “We’ve got the ring, remember? The witch can’t hurt us as long as we have it.”