The Pit in the Woods: A Mercy Falls Mythos Read online

  All of this surprised Jeremy. This John Winter killed someone? He didn’t seem like a murderer. A bit grim, rebellious, yes. But a killer? He had helped Tony. No one else did, and he didn’t have to, but he did.

  5

  Staci Donavon walked home, knowing that by the time she got there it would be plastered all over the news. God, there’d been so much blood.

  She turned on the TV. “Today at Liberty High a student was

  stabbed…” She shut it off. Of course, she knew who had been

  responsible. She was sure that most people did. The Dragons only got

  worse and worse. They were bordering on psychotic. But there was something else disturbing her she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

  Ever since she was little she’d had a sense of things, like when something bad was about to happen. She believed it awakened one day in a supermarket… but she didn’t want to think of that. Despite all the legends of witchcraft and people being burned at the stake in nearby Salem, she could not begin to believe that there was something truly evil in her town. But here it was, pushing at the back of her mind. It wasn’t just the Dragons, it was something more. They were small fry and she knew it. Only a small piece of the picture. Stepping stones. That was the image she got. And she was frightened by it.

  Tony Vincent got sixteen stitches, and blood through an IV. The media circled the hospital and the school in a feeding frenzy, asking questions, poking their cameras, and mikes, and notepads in innocent faces. The papers overflowed with news of the event. All the people involved, and the roles they played in the course of the tragedy. Speculation on who the culprit or culprits might be. Analysis on the safety of schools, and an occasional commentary on the state of the world we live in. There were even a few threats by some bold critics. Fingerprints on the knife were checked but they only found Tony’s.

  “I’m sorry about what happened to your friend,” Staci said to him in gym.

  “Thanks,” Jeremy said, “Me too.” Max looked over at him and gave him an aww poor Tony look. Jeremy felt his face get red and wanted to punch him right there.

  Then the gym teacher called out. “Staci! Get back in your

  spot!” Yet he didn’t say it angrily. He must have known what they

  were talking about, but Staci looked agitated.

  Everyone went into their exercise routine as usual.

  When Tony got back to school his left arm was wrapped in bandages and gauze. He appeared distant to Jeremy, as if his whole world had fallen apart and he had nothing else to live for. Tony had never made the football team. He couldn’t maintain his grades high enough most of the time to even try out. He’d never seen Tony with a girl, and he didn’t seem to have many friends. Jeremy wasn’t sure why. And now someone had tried to kill him. He was completely sure who someone was, but he had no way to prove it.

  The only thing Tony said to him when he got back was “Hi Jeremy.” Paired with the moroseness behind the words it barely constituted a greeting.

  Thanksgiving was only a day away, and Jeremy had every intention of getting through the day without any trouble from the Dragons. Tony didn’t pick him up for school that morning and his father had already left for work, so he walked the ten blocks to school. Jeremy met with Staci at the double doors.

  “Um, hi Staci,” he said, looking away.

  She smiled. “Hello Jeremy. How are you?”

  “Fine, um, how are you?”

  “Good. How is your friend doing?”

  “Better, I guess.”

  “You guess?”

  “I don’t know.” Jeremy shook his head. “He’s barely talked to me since he got back.”

  Staci looked at him sympathetically. “I’m sorry.”

  He decided he didn’t want to talk about him. Not here. Not now. Not with this girl.

  “I’m… I’m going to go,” he said.

  “All right. Take care of yourself Jeremy.”

  “Yeah.”

  “I’ll see you in gym.”

  “Sure.” He smiled.

  6

  Unacceptable. That’s what most people, deep down, thought of Myron Powers. It was a more pleasant word than ugly at any rate. His nose was too wide, hooked and covered with freckles. He wore owl rim glasses with unusually thick coke bottle lenses. The kind that made the eyes look like some rare species of fish. His hair looked dead, shagging down over his head like a broken brown eggshell. And he weighed in at ninety six pounds. In other words, bully bait.

  He knew what he was, and he walked the nearly empty halls

  with fear. He hoped that the Dragons weren’t here yet. Myron made

  it a point to come early in order to avoid them. But he realized he’d hoped for too much when his books were knocked out of his hands. He squatted down to get them, looking up to see a grin full of yellow teeth.

  “Max!”

  “Hi rat face,” he said gleefully. Carl and Farris stood behind him, and two others he couldn’t name. “Phil, you got the knife?” he asked one of them, a boy about 5’5” in scuffed blue jeans and equally ragged denim jacket. He pulled a switchblade from his inside pocket.

  Phil handed the knife over to Max, and he put the edge of it to Myron’s throat.

  “We’re on to your game. Trying to avoid us. I want your lunch money maggot!”

  “I… I don’t have any more. You took my whole weeks worth the other day.”

  “Welllll…” Carl said, “Guess we’ll have to compensate and take it out of your stinkin’ hide!”

  “Please,” Myron said, “I didn’t do anything. Why can’t you just leave me alone?”

  They laughed.

  “You heard him,” a voice said from behind them. “Leave him alone.” It was Johnny, walking toward them.

  “Well, if it ain’t ole fag boy. You gonna make us?”

  “Just let him go Max,” Johnny said calmly.

  “C’mon, make me,” Max taunted.

  In the same calm manner, he shrugged and said, “All right.” And then he charged at them, pummeling through the others to get to Maxwell. He knocked him aside, but at that exact moment Max slid the knife across, slitting Myron’s neck. Myron collapsed, clutching at his throat.

  Max kicked Johnny in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him. He fell to the ground, disoriented. He looked over at Myron who was bleeding, but did not seem to be mortally wounded. The wound was only superficial. For show. Thank God.

  The others started to whisper. “There’s people coming.”

  “We’ll have to finish this later.” Max pointed at Johnny. “One word of this to anyone and you’re dead meat. You got me? DEAD MEAT!”

  “Yeah, I got you jackass. Meat, dead, not alive, got the

  concept. Now why don’t you take that knife and stick it up your ass where it belongs?”

  Max gritted his teeth, his fury barely contained. But the sound of people approaching was getting louder. “This ain’t over Johnny. C’mon Dragons, let’s goooo…!” The last word became a howl. They ran. To Johnny it sounded a bit like a wounded dog.

  “Are you all right?” Johnny asked.

  “Yes,” Myron said. “I guess. I am still alive.”

  He smiled. Myron’s hands fell from his neck. The bleeding had stopped and in its place was a five inch wide cut that showed a tiny ledge of pink flesh beneath. John flinched. Max caused a bit more damage than he’d thought, but still, Myron would survive. He could have got the kid killed.

  “Come on,” Johnny said. “We’ve got to get you out of here.”

  “Why did you go and do a thing like that anyway?” Myron said later, when they were outside.

  Johnny replied without thinking. “Just because you’re ugly doesn’t mean you deserve that kind of treatment.”

  “Oh,” Myron frowned.

  “Aw jeeze. I’m sorry man. I didn’t…well, I shouldn’t have said that. That was fucked up.”

  “Yes, it really was,” Myron said with the air of the intellectual
he was.

  “Yeah, sorry,” John repeated, with the air of someone fumbling through conversation. “What’s your name?”

  “Does it really matter to you?”

  “Um, no,” Johnny replied, disconcerted by his response. There was an unpleasant silence and he thought the boy wasn’t going to talk to him at all.

  But then he said, “I am Myron. Myron Powers. That is my name.”

  John nodded. “I’m…”

  “I know…who you are. Everyone knows you Johnny.”

  Somehow he knew that, but he was still surprised to hear it.

  “Anyway,” Johnny said. “It was nice meeting you.” He held out his hand, surprising both himself and Myron with the gesture. Myron had a strong grip for a boy with his build.

  “You take it easy man. Have that thing checked out.” He put his hand on his own neck to show Myron.

  “Yes,” Myron said. “Thank you Johnny. For, you know…”

  “I know. You’re welcome.”

  7

  He saw Tony in the hall after homeroom, and called out to him.

  “Oh, hi Jeremy.”

  “All right Tony. Are we friends or not?”

  “Whatya mean?”

  “I mean you haven’t talked to me since, you know…”

  He didn’t have to spell it out. Tony nodded.

  “Sure I have.”

  “Not really,” Jeremy said. “Not like you used to.”

  “I’m sorry,” Tony said. “I’ve been all screwed up you know.”

  “I can imagine.”

  “They tried to kill me.”

  “I know,” Jeremy nodded.

  “I don’t think they want to kill you, but when I’m around you I’m putting you in danger.”

  “Oh man, is that what this is about?” Jeremy was relieved. “You have no idea how much safer I feel when you’re around man. I dread running into one of them when I’m alone.”

  “Really?” He shook his head, “I guess you would. Dumb question.”

  “No it’s not,” Jeremy said. “Hey, either way you were watching my back. Now could you actually watch my back?

  Tony laughed. “I got your back.”

  "Friends?” Jeremy said.

  “Yeah.”

  8

  Carl wasn’t sure why he stayed with them. They were a cause of intense grief and paranoia. But he played along, acted as they expected him to act. Carl Napier knew better than to do otherwise. He was a Dragon. The Dragons were like family, the only true family he ever had. John would have understood that. Winter had joined the Dragons for much the same reasons. But he’d left. He got out. Because he’d killed that boy. Except no one ever truly got out. That was something Max made sure of. Yet John had eluded them for the longest.

  Now Johnny had decided to be a hero, making Carl feel lower than ever. They’d almost killed Tony. He’d decided to protest, but the words caught in his throat. Carl knew that was what Max had intended. In some sick sort of way he enjoyed it all. Wanted to see how far it could go. How much they could get away with. Hadn’t Carl himself just recently attacked Myron?

  Welllll… we’ll just have to compensate and take it out of your stinkin’ hide!

  Had he said that? Something like that. And some part of him wanted to see the knife plunge into Myron’s throat.

  After that boy had died he’d started to have his doubts. Carl was sure he wasn’t the only one. But back then Max was king. He ruled the Dragons. Made you believe in him. Made you believe things would be all right. Hey, shit happens. You move on. But now his palace was disintegrating. Sure he still had some truly loyal followers. People as sick and depraved as he was. But everyone saw the madness taking over, and not everyone wanted to be a part of it.

  The question is, what do you want to do about it?

  9

  “Enemies! Guys, too many enemies!” Maxwell Rifkin shouted, standing atop a dusty crate in the abandoned warehouse. “Jeremy, Tony, rat-face… not to mention all the other little twerps running around the school. So do we let them get away?”

  The group looked at each other. The entire gang was here. Sixteen in all, including Max. Phil and Jake Mussen, the only brothers in the Dragons; Lou Jerreau; Mike Lemon; Samuel Leroy; Jim Jensen; Richard Beck; Eddie “The Iceman” Horowitz; Pete Whiteman; William Koontz; Julia Stevens and Mary Crowley, the only girls in the group; Rick Morris; Carl Napier and Jack Farris. They all waited for Max to answer his own question which he undoubtedly would.

  “Shit no! We band together. We find out where they’re going, what they’re doing, follow them and beat them to a pulp!” If his words were meant to inspire they failed, for most of them sat lifeless on empty crates, three to a one, while others stood or paced aimlessly, causing swirls of the paper laden floor to rise up among the

  ghosts of ancient typewriters too beaten, dead and useless to have

  value. Most of them had no grudges with the people mentioned, and frankly didn’t care. The majority of them, in fact, didn’t even go to Liberty High. Max, Carl, Farris, and the two brothers were the only ones who did, which explained why they were always together. The rest were dropouts, except in the case of Julia Stevens who attended another high school.

  Some enjoyed the promise of beatings, but their faith in their leader Maxwell had dwindled considerably. The Dragons strength lay in their implicit threat, their quiet power. They didn’t develop personal vendettas as Max had. But they didn’t question his judgment either. Although they thought he didn’t know how they felt, Max knew all too well. He felt them drifting apart. It was the reason for this speech.

  “What’s wrong with you all?” Everyone jumped. “What’s happened to you?” Max said. “Don’t you want to be number one? Have you forgotten the dream?”

  “He’s raving,” Carl heard Phil whisper to his brother.

  He is, Carl thought. He’d always been overly enthusiastic, but now he was just raving. Raving like a madman.

  “Have you all forgotten the dream?”

  “What’s he talking about?” Julia said, punctuating her final word with a pop from her bubble gum. Maxwell heard her.

  “What… am I talking about?” Max said. “You poor, misguided girl. Have you forgotten what this is all about? Why we’re all here?”

  Julia looked upward, chewing loudly on her gum, as if repeating the question in her head, when really she was simply rolling her eyes. She was pretty with shoulder length strawberry blond hair. She wore a black leather jacket with the Dragons insignia on the back, opened to reveal nothing but a white bikini top that bulged with the weight of her large breasts. A red plaid skirt came down to right above her knees, and a pair of lace up boots just underneath.

  “Frankly yes,” she said. Until she spoke they’d all been looking at her body, even Mary, who was envious of her, but not in a hateful way. Now they all really looked at her.

  Max was shocked.

  “I mean we all know why we were here,” she said, “And it ain’t for no dream. We’re all lowlifes.”

  Now everyone was shocked, but drawn to her. They said

  nothing. Maybe if someone had, the events that were to transpire

  would not have.

  “Lowlifes,” she said again, snapping her gum. “We all come from broken homes. Got orphans here too.” She looked at Phil and Jake. “Some of us here just want to feel… you know, in control. Not have to answer to anyone. A few of us here are junkies, have no place else to go. What I want to know, and I’m sure everyone else does too, is why are you here?”

  Max glared at her, truly looking like a madman. “Is that true? Do you all want to know why I’m here?” No one could look into his eyes. “All right. I’ll tell you why I’m here. I’m here to look after all of you. We’re all like a team, a family…”

  “You’re fucking crazy Max,” Julia said, “We ain’t never been no family.”

  That cinched it. At that moment Max snapped. Whatever thin line restrained him from lashing out before
was now broken. He walked up to her, met her face to face, reeled back and slapped her.

  The shock more than the force of it (although he sure didn’t hold back) caused her to lose her balance, and she fell over.

  “You crummy bastard!” she screamed. Her hair had fallen in her face and she brushed it aside. Satisfied, Max started to walk away. That’s when she stuck out her foot and tripped him. Max Rifkin fell on his face.

  10

  “She’s nice isn’t she?” Tony said, noticing he was looking over.

  “Huh, who?” Jeremy asked.

  “Staci.”

  “Oh yeah, she’s nice.”

  “Why aren’t you eating?” Tony said.

  “Huh?” Jeremy said, still dazed.

  “Why aren’t you eating? This is lunch you know.”

  Jeremy shook it off and stopped staring at her. Besides, she was with her friends.

  “I’m not very hungry,” he said.

  Tony grinned. “You like her don’t you?

  “Who, Staci?”

  “Yeah Staci. Don’t play dumb.”

  “She’s nice,” Jeremy repeated.

  “No, I mean you like her like her.”

  “She’s a friend.” As if to confirm this she noticed him across the way, and she smiled and gave a nod. He beamed, and then quickly lowered his head.

  “Yeah I’m sure,” Tony said. “What the hell was that?”

  “Maybe you’re the one who likes her,” Jeremy said.

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Why not?”

  “She’s not my type,” Tony asserted.

  “What is your type? Tall, dark, and handsome?”

  Tony threw a pickle slice at him. It hit and stuck on his forehead. Jeremy flung it off in amazement, while Tony cackled. He opened his mostly uneaten sandwich and threw the cheese at Tony, who dodged expertly to the side.