In the Devil's Name Read online

  Sam doesn’t like the forest much now either. He keeps close to my side, whereas before he’d always bolt happily away and disappear in the underbrush to chase rabbits. He’s also started staying close to the cabin when I let him out to do his business and seems reluctant to stray too far.

  Don’t know the date or even the month for sure. I’d previously been keeping a note of the date using the calendar on Cairnsey’s phone, but the batteries are long dead. It’s been weeks since I killed the deer, and I’ve not had any more reoccurrences of the black fits of rage, which is just as well. There are no deer in the woods anymore. The unnatural silence tells me there’s nothing alive in the woods now but me and Sam.

  I think something is on its way.

  Winter 2011 (2 days later)

  I was right.

  I let Sam out for the toilet about an hour ago before going to bed and was standing at the cabin door, keeping an eye on him. He’s been increasingly reluctant to leave the cabin the past few days, and refuses to go outside altogether unless I’m standing guard.

  He quickly went over to his spot by the wood pile and cocked a leg, but stopped suddenly in mid-piss to whirl around and face the opposite direction. He was looking into the shadows between the trees there, and growling low down in his throat. It’s clear tonight, and the moon’s bright and fat giving a good amount of light as it reflects off the snow, so from where I stood I could clearly see the raised hackles all along Sam’s back. I called him back inside, but he wouldn’t come. He just stood there, snarling threateningly at the deep shadows that the moon’s light couldn’t penetrate.

  He abruptly let loose a rapid series of loud barks and took a few steps forward, baring his teeth. I left the cabin threshold then and went to him, meaning to take him back inside and starting to get a very bad feeling, but as I reached for his collar he bolted off into the murk between the trees.

  Without thinking, I gave chase, blindly running into the forest after him. I could hear him barking ferociously somewhere ahead and ran towards the sound, frantically calling his name as I ploughed through the knee deep snow, stumbling through the thick undergrowth and tripping over hidden roots.

  Sam’s barks suddenly changed to a frightening series of savage yowling snarls, and I knew he’d come into violent contact with whatever had been spooking him. I kept going, crashing faster through the snow shrouded bushes towards the sounds of the struggle emanating from somewhere in the dark forest ahead. I heard Sam let out a loud yelp of pain, and then silence slammed down as if a door had been closed.

  I froze in mid step. The way Sam’s cry had been cut off awoke a familiar fear in me, and I was suddenly back on that hill in Ballantrae, hearing from the block of flats that first woman’s scream that had been so abruptly silenced. Shivering and lost, I could only stand there, surrounded by the night forest knee deep in snow with my breath coming in laboured gasps that steamed in the air. I called out for Sam. My quavering voice was muted by the cold white blanket and had a flat dead quality. Not much moonlight penetrated the thick grove of pines where I was standing, and my field of visibility was a matter of inches.

  Something hit me from the side.

  I fell back in the snow with a yelp of fright. I couldn’t see anything, but my mind conjured some very bad ideas about the unseen monstrosity that had attacked me. I desperately tried to scramble to my feet and flee, but I felt it grab my ankle. I screamed and fell forward in the snow, then instinctively kicked out behind me with my other foot and heard an unmistakeably canine whine of pain. I turned over onto my back and was extremely relieved to discover it was just Sam.

  I reached out and took hold of him. He flinched and yelped at my touch, but I soothed him with soft words and gentle strokes. He licked my face, whining in anxiety.

  I stood and turned in a circle, trying to get my bearings. Logic dictated that to get back to the cabin, I need only follow my footprints back through the snow but as I started in that direction, Sam grabbed the cuff of my jeans and pulled me back. His intent was clear.

  Not that way.

  I crouched in front of him again, stroking his head. “Okay, boy,” I said. “Show me. Take us home.”

  And he did, taking a round about route through the trees that eventually led up back to the cabin. During that return trip, I had a palpable sense that we were being watched, and several times Sam stopped, sniffed the air and changed direction, leading us away from some unseen threat that I thought I could sometimes hear whispering among the trees. It could have been the wind, but I don’t think so.

  When we got back inside the cabin I closed and bolted the door then stooped to examine Sam. He had a series of thin bloody scratches along one side of his face and a few tufts of hair missing from his coat. His physical injuries aren’t serious, but we got back over an hour ago and he’s still shaking.

  They’ve found me.

  Winter 2011 (the next day)

  Didn’t sleep after last evening’s incident. Just lay awake all night, jumping at every creak and groan from inside the cabin and out. With sleep evading me, I tried to think of what to do, and it came down to the basic option of fight or flight. I came to the conclusion that it’s a miracle I’m still alive and thought it best not to push my luck. I decided that in the morning I’d load up the truck, take Sam and try and make a break for it. I’d no real destination in mind, but figured anywhere was better than here.

  As soon as the sun was up, I went out to the truck to start loading it up and found all four tyres had been slashed repeatedly at some time during the night. Clawed.

  I’m going nowhere.

  (later)

  Sam’s seemed increasingly nervous all day; pacing around the cabin as if on patrol. I got up to see if he wanted to go out earlier, but he immediately placed himself between me and the door, growling at me in warning. Point taken. I didn’t want to open the door anyway. The sun’s gone down now, and the dark’s like a solid presence pressing at the windows as if it wants to get in.

  I took the playing card out a few minutes ago, the King of Spades, hoping to sense some sort of power like before, but there was nothing. It’s just a card now, so I took the handgun from the desk drawer.

  The .45’s not for whatever’s outside in the woods. I know it wouldn’t do any good. The gun’s for me. What you might call my exit strategy.

  If it turns out that I can’t fight whatever is out there, and it doesn’t look like I can, then I’ll be glad to have the gun at hand.

  When the time comes for this to end, it’ll be me that ends it. It may be a petty victory, but fuck it. Pettiness I can die with. They won’t have me.

  I ask myself if I really have the balls to do it, and then I think of the things I’ve seen. What their kind leave behind after a kill. And then I know.

  Putting the barrel to the roof of my mouth and pulling that trigger, applying the necessary four pounds pull weight required to fire a .45 calibre handgun, well, nothing could be easier. Nothing at all.

  It’ll be over then.

  The gun’s fully loaded, but I only need two bullets. They won’t have Sam either.

  Fuck.

  Something just ran across the roof outside. Sam's started growling and there's that sick feeling of pressure in my head.

  It won’t be long now.

  They’re coming.

  (later)

  There’s something laughing out there in the woods. Sounds like more than one. More things running across the roof, tapping and scratching on the walls, looking for a way in.

  Every once in a while, like now, I’ll hear a high scraping squeal on a window pane that cuts through the chorus of mad cackles and the knocks and gnawing at the walls, and if I look round quickly, I’m sure I can see something out there grinning in at me.

  Sam’s now running back and forth between the windows in a frenzy, snarling and barking at the darkness outside.

  They’re playing with me. Drawing it out. They feed on fear, and I must be providing a feast, b
ecause I’m fucking shitting myself.

  Sam, Griff, Cairnsey, I could really use your help. Please.

  Jesus, the lights have started to flicker.

  (later)

  This will be my last entry.

  They’re inside the cabin.

  When the lights started to fail, I frantically managed to claw open the desk drawer and grabbed the old half used dinner candle I knew was in there. Before I could light it though, the lights went out completely and I heard the window by the door breaking. Cold air rushed in and I immediately sensed something coming at me out of the total blackness as I desperately tried to touch my lighter flame to the candle taper. Sam had been sitting mewling at my feet, but at the moment the lights went out and the window smashed, he charged fearlessly into the dark, barking ferociously, going for the thing that was rushing us.

  I heard Sam snarling and snapping, a hideous screech, then a screaming yelp of agony that was almost human, then nothing.

  He gave me just enough time to light the candle. In the dim pool of meagre illumination it cast on the floor, I saw a slowly spreading pool of blood and I wept for poor, brave Sam.

  He saved my life, because I think it’s only the flickering light from the candle that’s keeping them back.

  They’re all over the cabin. I can hear them now as I type this; on the floor, the walls, on the ceiling and among the rafters above me. They’re sliding and slithering, whispering and chittering in the dark beyond the small pool of light from the candle, and there’s not much of the candle left. Maybe three inches. My watch tells me it’s half past midnight. It’ll be hours before the sun rises again and the candle won’t last till then. When it’s gone, they’ll rush me.

  My only option is to try and make it across the room to the fireplace. There’s plenty of kindling and logs stacked up there. If I can get a fire going, maybe the light from the flames will hold them back till dawn. I’m afraid to even touch the candle in case it goes out though. The wind’s blowing through the broken window, and I’m afraid the slightest draft will extinguish the already weak flame.

  If it doesn’t work, I’ve still got the gun.

  They won’t fucking have me.

  EPILOUGE

  Article from the New York Times, December 19th 2011

  MYSTERY SURROUNDS UPSTATE FOREST FIRE

  Authorities have been left baffled by the circumstances surrounding a large forest fire that raged through an extensive area of the Adriondack State Park last week.

  The blaze, which investigators believe began at an abandoned cabin on the shore of Lake Simona, devastated an area of some five square miles before co-ordinated teams of park rangers and fire crews were able to contain it. Strangely, no identifiable remains, animal or human, have been recovered from the ashes by search and rescue teams.

  Kevin Dougliehill, a volunteer fire fighter and resident of nearby Amesville said,

  “It’s very strange. Normally fires like this will kill large amounts of the local wildlife, but we’ve not uncovered so much as a single bone. It’s as if there were no animals here in the first place, and that’s just not possible. It’s obviously great that we’ve found no human remains either, but the whole thing is just plain weird.”

  When asked how the fire could have started, Fire Chief Connor McKnight stated, “Most likely arson, but there were some reports received of an unusual localised lightning storm in the vicinity of Lake Simona around the estimated time the blaze began. This was witnessed by a party of climbers on Debar Mountain seven miles away who had a good view down the valley from their position. It’s common for forest fires to be sparked in this way.”

  When asked in what way the lightning storm was said to be unusual, Chief McKnight replied that aside from the rarity of such storms this late in the year, the group of climbers claimed that the lightning appeared to come from the ground rather than the sky, and manifested itself in a series of small but intense bursts of bluish light. It is thought among investigators that the phenomenon known as ‘ball lightning’ is a possible explanation for this.

  In a further strange twist, unconfirmed reports have also surfaced that among the ashes of the cabin where the inferno is thought to have originated, a bizarre manuscript was found in a steel fireproof drawer which survived the blaze. It has also been rumoured that several pages of the supposed manuscript are recently dated, suggesting the possibility that someone was inhabiting the cabin which was originally thought to be long abandoned. When asked to elaborate on this aspect of the story, Fire Chief McKnight refused to comment, saying only, “If that were the case, we’d also have found some trace of whoever wrote it. As you already know, we’ve found nothing.”

  Davina Andrews

  ****

  Thanks

  Very special thanks to Louise Welsh, whose help and encouragement made the completion and publication of this story possible.

  Thanks also to the good people at Follow Follow and The Morningstar Saga websites for their clicks, good thoughts and for spreading the word.

  And thanks most of all to you, whoever you are, for reading this book.

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