Mountain People

“Sarah!” he called. It felt like it had been decades since they separated, having seen a mysterious black figure in the fog before running in two completely different directions. He’d heard stories of them– dark watchers –but he didn’t think that he’d ever actually see one.

“Sarah!” Vance glanced behind himself warily as he heard leaves rustling as a murder of crows set off in the distance. He took a breath, watching behind him as he stepped. SNAP! The root under his foot cracked, sending him sliding down the mountain, clawing at the dirt.

He screeched, his hand dragging into stone. He could feel the skin on his palm tear as blood dripped down his arm. Reaching up with his other hand, he managed to grip a thick root buried in the dirt. The blood began to stain his sleeve as he tugged the root he held in the other hand, testing its stability. His injured hand began to slip, his grip eventually failing, causing a hard tug on his other arm, a wheeze ripped from his lungs.

SNAP! He tumbled for minutes that posed as hours until he hit something, rendering him unconscious. He rolled and bashed against plants and rocks until his body hit flat land. His eyes opened once more for just a moment, his blurry vision barely registering the figure above him before his vision faded into darkness.

“Wake up. Come on! Get up now.” A girl’s voice rang from above him, sounding far even though he knew it was right there. He could faintly feel himself being poked in the side, and a groan fell from his lips as he rolled away from the prodding, mattress creaking under him. “Look! He moved! I told ya he wasn’t dead!”

“Yeah, yeah. I heard ya.” A man spoke this time. “Go get ‘im a painkiller or something, I’m sure he’s feeling it now.” Vance could hear quick steps pattering away as he slowly blinked awake, wincing at the light, sending bolts of pain all through his head. He took a deep breath of warm air and slowly sat up, leaning on his hands. He could feel rough cotton beneath his palms as he took in his surroundings.

“Where am I?” Vance questioned, his voice hoarse. His throat yearned for fluids as he expelled a dry cough.

“Compound off the mountain. Ya tumbled right in the woods behind Pops backyard. Mary watched ya while climbing trees back there last night. You’re in pretty shit shape,” the man spoke as the girl came back with a blue pill bottle and a glass of water, unscrewing the cap and shaking a few in his hand, giving him the water, which he practically inhaled.

“We’re having lunch in a few, I’m sure you’re just starving. You go take a look around if ya like, I’ll come fetch ya when it’s ready. Come on now, Daniel, Mama wants to see us,” the girl spoke, making her way back towards where she came with a final lingering look that gave him chills.

Vance pulled himself up, glancing out the dingy glass of the window. He stepped towards the door, pushing it open with a creak, walking out into a dim hallway. Sunlight bled through the crevice under the door at the end. When the door swung open, a gust of chilled air hit his face, cobble crunching under his shoes as he made his way through the area, peeking through open curtains and down the shadows between buildings. It was barren. The only sound was a rustle of leaves here and a gust of wind there. The dirt kicked up under his feet as he strolled between rustic homes.

 Looking up at the windows, he tripped and nearly fell over something. He let out a curse, looking down at where he’d stumbled, noticing a deep red stain against the copper soil. Reaching down, he began to pull the plastic covering to the side.

“It’s meat scraps. Papa hunts,” Mary’s voice rang from behind him. Startled, he whipped around to face her, “Come now, it’s time for lunch. It’s fresh.” She turned on her heel and started towards the largest house resting against the side of the mountain. Unease bubbled in his gut as he followed her along the dirt path.

“What are we having?” he asked, trying to brush off the sudden paranoia. Crow caws rang out like alarms.

“Meat,” Mary responded shortly.

“Meat? What kind of meat?”

“Fresh meat. Papa caught it yesterday.”

“What animal, though?”

“You’ll see.” Her response unnerved him, making his chest heavier as they entered the house and made their way to a large dining hall. People were bringing in dishes of food, mashed potatoes, roasted carrots, one by one, dish by dish, then settling into their seats. “Y’know, I never got your name.”

“Vance.” He breathed, sliding into a chair, tensely clearing his throat and muttering a greeting to those he sat with. The fork in front of him glimmered as he fiddled with it, watching as the family slowly funneled in. One by one, each carrying a dish or two, until finally, an elderly man in a dingy apron carrying a covered silver platter, placed it in the center of the table, surrounded by the other dishes.

“Dinner is served.” Vance’s chest tightened as the man spoke; those around him began taking food that had been set out. He sat rigid in his chair as he watched the old man’s battered fingers steadily reach for the notch on the lid covering the large platter in the center of the table, lifting it slowly as Vance watched with bated breath, his chest tight.

He couldn’t breathe when the cover had finally been removed, his mouth went bone dry, his eyes widened, his mouth opened and closed like he wanted to scream but couldn’t.

“Sarah,” he rasped, staring in utter horror at his friend, prepped and baked on the table, the head was missing, but he knew it was her, he just knew. She was surrounded by vegetables and basted in broth. He wheezed silently, covering his mouth as they began to cut chunks off of her corpse. He choked, wanting to scream, to stop them, but he could only gag as Mary held out her plate, the meat hitting it with a nauseating slap, and hot tears rolled down his cheeks. “Excuse me.” He moved to stand.

“Not so fast, boy.” The old man stood, but Vance was already darting out the door. “Hey!” The old man yelled, knocking his chair over in pursuit of Vance. “Somebody get my shotgun!”

“Holy s—t, holy s—t,” Vance wheezed as he sprinted, hauling himself towards the tree line. He had no time to look back, dirt kicking up behind him as he dove for the bushes, ramming through them as he ran.

“Get back here!” He heard the old man yell, a gunshot ringing out just behind him, then another even closer, pulling a scream from his chest, his legs throbbing as he dashed, the forest blurring around him as he saw an opening in the trees. He dove, hitting the pavement, quickly pushing himself up to look behind him, seeing the old man standing at the side of the road.

He heard the crushing sound of metal against his side before he even felt the pain. Vance went flying, scraping against the pavement on his side. His eyes peeled open, blinded by a beam of light, a groan pulled from his lips as a puddle formed under him. The light was soon blocked by the shadowed figure of the man. He tried to crawl away, his nails splintering as they dragged along the pavement, taking rasping breaths.

“I got you now, boy.” He heard the old man before feeling a hand wrap around his ankle, dragging him against the cold pavement, back towards the forest as he struggled to stay conscious. It didn’t take long before he lost his battle and his eyes closed with a final desperate rasp.

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