DOUGLAS WICKARD: NO-BE-BO-SCO

NO-BE-BO-SCO

Douglas wickard

Copyright © 2017 by Douglas Wickard

“Nicki?”

I wait for her, sitting Indian style inside our second-hand pup tent, taping my finger against my thigh. We bought the tent together at a thrift store in SoHo, one of our first purchases together. The opening tarp is torn and a noisy flap rattles against the side panel. Please, please don’t fall over. The physical ordeal to erect the damn thing took far too long. What did I know about tents? I’m from the City, a City Boy. No, this was all Nicki’s idea, our big romantic weekend getaway, free from classes at FIT, the Fashion institute of Technology. I was a sophomore, Nicki a junior. I know, I know, robbing the cradle. We met early on in my freshman year, first semester. It was really cool, that crazy-dope feeling you get when you know you really want somebody, and then you find out that they really want you too.

“Nicki, hey, what’s taking you so long?” 

She needed to pee. I told her we should have stopped at that Mobil station we passed by in Montague, but she insisted on driving further. And, being the Pioneer Woman she is, she decided to go and do her business in nature.

 I crawl to the opening and stick my head out. Night’s upon us. We only brought one flashlight with us and that rusty old thing barely worked. I can’t even remember the last time I used it. When we opened the case to check the batteries, the two triple A’s had orange goo covering them. Nice.

Wind whistles like a soft rainstorm behind me. It was that time of year, leaf season, a virtual brain freeze of vibrant color. We had rented the car in the City and drove west over the George Washington Bridge to I-80. Fifteen miles out, BAM, we’re smack dab in the middle of a gigantic flush of colorful foliage. Her grandfather owned a small cabin somewhere in the area and she was on a hunt to find it. Memories of childhood. So here we are… lost and pitching a tent on the side of the road in a forgotten park waiting for morning light to GPS ourselves back to a main road and civilization.

“Hey, c’mon, you’re making me nervous now.” I sound like a wimp. Am I actually pleading?

We had pulled into the park way too late. It was already dusk when she turned onto an off road and decided to stop. We upped the tent virtually in the dark. I wasn’t much help. I’m kind of scrawny, a bit of a geek, big wiry glasses and nice teeth. (From all those years of wearing braces.) We were finally getting all cozy inside, you know, spreading out the sleeping bags, combining them together in order to make one BIG love nest when she decides she has to go pee. Of course.

I’m taking my first steps away from the tent now. The air is brisk, clean, that wonderful fall smell of firewood and smoke. “Nicki?” I don’t have a light with me, it’s hard navigating the terrain, only a big black sky splattered with plump stars and an iridescent sliver of a moon. I’m moving forward though, my arms crossed in front of me conserving energy and heat, when I hear a twig snap to my left and a moan or a whimper. “Hey, what the… is that you?” I turn and rushing feet are powering toward me. Fast. “Hey, watch out!”

“Chris!” Nicki reaches out and grabs me, obviously shaken up by something.

“What? What’s going on?” I ask. “Where’s the flashlight? You didn’t lose it, did you?” I hold her in my arms, calming her down, but she’s shivering. “Talk to me, what happened?”

In between gasps, “I was walking down that little ravine, right over there…” She points to a grassy slope to the left of us. “… and I stooped by a tree to take a pee when I heard this voice, like a little kid…”

“C’mon, you’re giving me the creeps.” I hold her closer. I massage her arms for warmth.

“Chris, I’m dead serious.  I couldn’t make this shit up.”

“Okay, so…”

 So, I walk a ways further and I hear the voice again.”

“And… what did it say?”

“It was kinda hard making out the words, so I kept inching closer. Then I pushed through some bushes and came upon this big lake, like right in front of me when I heard the voice again whimpering, something like ‘help me.’ I got spooked, dropped the flashlight and ran back. I fell on the way up the hill… Damn!” She leans over to brush off her knee. “Ouch. And I still have to pee.”

“Let me take a look at that. Let’s go up to the car where there’s some light and I’ll clean it up.” We walk toward the rental but Nicki keeps turning back.

“No. We have to go find out who’s there? It could be a little boy trapped or kidnapped down there, something horrible could be happening.” She stops. “We need to get the flashlight, Chris.”

“Why? It doesn’t work, anyway.”

“C’mon.”

I roll my eyes in protest, thankful she can’t see. “Okay, okay, I give up. I’ll follow you. Show me the way, Dear.”  I’m learning early on in this relationship game that arguing is futile. I tag behind her like an eager puppy meandering through a dark maze of tall trees and low growing shrubs. We stop for a second to listen, but all I hear is silence. “I don’t hear a thing… let’s go. I hope I can find our way back. I should have left the car door open.”

“Chris! We have to find out.” Nicki can be very persistent.

We barrel through a wall of thick hedges and land on the lip of a beautiful still lake. “See, I told you.” Nicki says, triumphantly.

The water glistens like shiny ice in the moonlight. “Wow. How random, huh? Beautiful, but kinda spooky too, right?”

I still can’t hear any voices. I turn my head to the side to listen, but all I can make out is the rhythmic kiss of water lapping against the shoreline. “Let’s go! This is freaking me out. Aren’t you cold?” I pull at her hand. “C’mon.”

Nicki leans over and picks up the flashlight. It rattles when she turns it on. A flickering tunnel of light hovers above the water.  “What’s that?” She’s inches closer to the edge, the beam skims the top of the lake’s steely surface.

“Watch out! Don’t stand so close.” I stand behind her now, peering into the water, ready to grab her at any second. “Nicki, there’s nothing in that water except maybe some fish.” I turn to go.

“Chris, I swear I saw something floating under there… something white…”

“We’ll check it out in the morning.” I reach for her arm again to pull her with me, but she slaps me away.

“Stop it!” She streams the light over the lake again. A soft mist rises. The sound of bullfrogs and crickets begin serenading us, but no voices.

“I’m going back. Stay here if you want.” I follow the path back through the hedges and into the forest landing. “You coming?”  Pause. “Nicki, are you coming?” I turn around and she’s gone, vanished, nowhere in sight. “Nicki?” I yell out. “This isn’t funny. I am not laughing. Nicki?”

In my peripheral vision, a flash of something streaks in between some trees. A flimsy blur of white. Interesting how quickly my senses respond, supernatural almost. The slightest breeze targets each individual hair on the back my neck.  I move toward the trees, eager to rescue Nicki and return to camp. The sound of batteries wiggling inside the metal casing makes me stop, but there’s no light.

“Who’s there?”

That’s when I think I hear a voice, whispering, ‘help me,’ tiny and frail, in a child’s timber, high-pitched and garbled, like through a cave of water.

“Where are you?” I move faster to the tree line, toward the voice, but I still can’t see a thing. Maybe I’m imagining all of this. Maybe Nicki went back to the tent. I stop and do a complete circle from where I’m standing. I take in the lake, the path, the tree line. I zip up my FIT jersey and hurry back to the trail.

How could she have gotten past me?

I’m walking faster now, tense, my entire body clenched like a tight fist. I push through the waist-high bushes and weave my body into the heart of the forest. Limbs slap at my face, my legs. All around me, eyes seem to be watching, stalking me. White, ghostly images spark between trees, teasing me, making my heartbeat race inside my throat.  My eyes are adjusting, somewhat to the darkness. I can make out the slight slope leading up to the campsite. I can’t see our tent, not yet, but the rental car comes into view, a shiny globe of red accented by an anorexic moon. My foot catches on a root, or a twig, something makes me fall, and I land, hard, on my stomach. It knocks the wind out of me. My glasses fly off my head and land with a crack. My knee explodes in excruciating pain. I’m blind without my prescription, I need my glasses. I stay silent, still, adjusting my weight, accessing the condition of my body. Then, my hands fan out and scour the ground, searching, pulling myself up, dragging my bad knee, raking the terrain with my fingers, gritty from the wet dirt. My eyes get misty. A stinging feeling rises up into my throat like bile. Scared to death!

My finger lands across the edge of my wire-rims. I seize them and put them on. One lens is cracked, a spider web of broken glass. I don’t have time to worry about the cost of new glasses. Not now. I’m up and half-running, half-limping toward the car.

Where are the keys? Where did I put them? In the tent?

I can already feel my knee swelling up, my heart jumping out of my chest.  I tear open the tent flap. “Nicki… Nicki! Where the fuck are you?” I lean down on my good knee and throw shit out of my small backpack. I open the side panel. Ah, found them. Outside the car turns over.

Nicki?

Headlights flood the tent, the even purr of the engine.

I move outside, the passenger door is open, the inside light on. Nicki?

Slowly, cautiously, I move sideways beside the tent, tiny sidesteps to the open door. I have no weapon, nothing to protect me. I am so dreading this, but I strain my neck to peek in. On the front seat is an axe, the rusty blade covered in blood. Little pieces of torn skin and bone matter stick to the edge. The front seat is smeared in the color of crimson. I must go into shock, my body goes numb, my voice becomes frozen, a solid lump of fear grows and fills my throat, like when I was five years old and a man in a big green car tried to pick me up on my way to school, offering me candy and a fun time. I couldn’t run, I couldn’t scream, I just froze. Froze!

I turn to run and gasp. There in front of me is Nicki, my Nicki, levitating almost, her face drenched in blood from a gaping hole that separates her head into two pieces where the axe made contact. One of her eyes hangs to the side.

She gurgles, “Chris…” and flings herself on me. All I can feel is the claw of her nails scratching at my throat. I scream; a voiceless rattled croak as my body convulses and I hit the ground with a thud.

“Chris, Chris… wake up!” Nicki is pushing at my side with her foot. “What the hell are you doing?”

I open my eyes, afraid to see what’s in front of me, wondering if I’m dead, if this is the afterlife. The only thing I see is the glow of morning seeping through the skin of our tent. I start awake, jump up and turn around quickly. I pinch myself, I touch Nicki’s face, feel the texture of her beautiful skin, her beautiful smile, her hair funky and ratty from sleep. And then, I cry. Literally, I cry, from joy.

“What? What were you dreaming? You scared the shit out of me. Is this what I have to look forward to?”

I smile at her, at our future, cast here, together in this tent.

But it was too soon, I couldn’t talk, I couldn’t tell her about the nightmare, not yet.

We moved quickly that morning, loading up the car, throwing the tent and gear into the trunk. I couldn’t wait. Nicki took it as an opportunity to make fun of me. I didn’t care. That nightmare clawed at my soul. I asked Nicki to drive. I was still too shaky. She didn’t mind. We were still on a mission to find her grandfather’s house. It was very early when we finally backed out onto the road. Dew glistened on the grass, sparkling like itsy-bitty diamonds. A deer feeding on a bush in the distance looked up, then fled, its white tail bobbing into the forest. We turned onto the main entrance and passed by a large wooden sign.

It read: Boy Scout Camp No-Be-Bo-Sco. Filmed at this location, the movie Friday the 13th and the home of Crystal Lake.

GIVEAWAY

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LINKTO DOUGLAS WICKARD’S AMAZON PAGE

AUTHOR BIO

Amazon Kindle Bestselling author of the SAMI SAXTON thriller series and FBI Agent DAN HAMMER Detective series NOTHING SACRED and ENCOUNTER. Soon to be released: A PERFECT WIFE. Read the excerpt at douglaswickardbooks.com! LULLABY, the new Dan Hammer thriller coming in 2016 as well as DEVIANT, the second in 'The Queer Diary' Series.