The Woods of Bloody Mary

The Woods is the third book in the chronicles of Reason Nelson. It finds Reason and his friends entangled in a web of deceit, treachery, and long-told tales of fear and violence stemming from the wooded area north of Lincoln. He and his friends uncover a plot that could lead all of them down the most dangerous path of all, along with revealing the secrets of Bloody Mary, the woman who dwells in the woods and murders unwelcome guests on sight.

Chapter One

Lincoln, Nebraska

June 2

Roaring down the moonlit trail on his motorcycle, Reason Nelson cursed as the owl burst from the branches above him. Casting a ghostly shadow across the pathway, the raptor passed over his head and glided away into the surrounding blackness. Gunning his bike, Reason glanced back to see the owl vanish into the night like a winged phantom.

Riding alone in the country that evening, was a rite of passage for fifteen-year-old Reason. The night had haunted him since he was a little kid. Determined now to overcome such childish fears, he defiantly throttled his bike, facing the darkness head-on.

One second later, and he was more terrified than he’d ever been in his entire life.

“Holy Jesus!” he shouted as the shadowy figure exploded out of the bushes beside the path and lunged at him.

Reason viciously gunned his bike. The battered 250 Kawasaki shot forward like a rocket, its back tire spitting dust into the face of the figure behind him. Sailing down the trail, Reason looked back, but his vision was blurred by the wild strands of his dark hair streaming over his shoulders. Badly shaken, Reason thought, Damn! Was that a man or an animal?

Shifting his gaze to the S-shaped curve ahead, he whipped the bike through the tight switchback. Far ahead, he could see lights from the trailer court on the edge of the city. But the court was nearly a mile away. And whatever was behind him was still too close.

Reason glanced to his right. If he veered too far in that direction, he’d fly off the cliff and plummet into Salt Creek far below. Thirty feet to his left, lay a dark patch of woods and the house of Bloody Mary, a shotgun-toting old lady who bitterly despised kids who trespassed on her land. In daylight, Reason scoffed at her trespassing signs posted along this section of the trails. But there that night beneath the black trees, he thought he saw the ghostly figure of the Lady of the Woods, preparing to blast him with both barrels.

Reason twisted his throttle and sent the bike soaring toward the C-shaped curve known as the Fat Lady’s Nightmare. He knew that Johnny Cooper had died there imitating Evil Kneival. A white cross marked the trail where Johnny had sailed sixty feet over the ravine and crashed fifty feet below. Beyond the cross, the trail snaked down and zigzagged between a dozen trees, then looped around the edge of the deep ravine.

Before shooting down the slope, Reason looked back, and gasped out loud. A huge, black figure darted out of the trees behind him. Reason aimed the Kaw at the Nightmare below, and desperately twisted his throttle.

Barreling down the slope, Reason barely managed to miss a tree. But the Kaw slammed into the fence post beyond. Upon impact with the post, the bike’s front tire popped, its headlamp shattered, and it died and toppled over, while Reason flew over a barbed wire fence and landed at the edge of a small pond.

Skidding across mossy ground, he caught a glimpse of frogs scattering in all directions seconds before his face sank beneath the surface of the pond. Blackness then attached itself to him like an anchor, pulling him down into murky depths.

Suddenly, Reason felt long, bony hands grasping at his shoul- ders, pulling him away from the moonlit black waters. Sucking in gulps of air, he drifted in and out of consciousness.

When Reason slowly opened his eyes, he saw fireflies floating above him, shimmering like tiny green jewels. He shuddered and gave a low moan. Nothing seemed to be broken, but his head hurt like hell. He squinted and tried to focus as a shadowy figure loomed over him.

Reason peered up at wrinkled, ugly features. He focused on the protruding lips fixed in a silent O, but he detected no malice in the creature’s large yellow eyes and curious stare. He grinned stupidly, reached out toward its round, pale face, and weakly whispered, “Cheetah?”

It was then gone, fading into the shadows of the woodlands like a swift wind. He thought it crossed the pond. If so, the ape- faced creature must have floated, for it made no sound with its passing.

Then, a second figure kneeled beside him. Reason felt a hand on his brow. He stared up into the piercing green eyes of an old woman, and fearfully asked, “You going to shoot me?”

A smile creased the ancient lady’s weathered face. She patted Reason gently on one cheek, and said, “Foolish child. I just saved you.”

Then, she vanished like mist in the wind.

One month later

Friday, July 2

10:45 P.M.

Moonlight spilled through the branches above the four boys seated around their campfire in the realm known as the Woods. The boys bantered about the story they’d just heard, their voices loud in the summer evening air.

“For real?” asked Joey. “Did that really happen?”

“Yes,” replied Reason.

“No way!” said Craig.

“Bullshit!” added Trent, pawing at his unruly blond bangs as they bunched up on the rim of his glasses.

The four boys sat close to the fire, trying to remain unafraid of the darkness surrounding them. They were four fifteen-year- old boys who lived in the moment and didn’t give a damn about the future. In two years, one of these kids would put a .45 to his head and pull the trigger. Two years later, one boy would smoke a joint laced with PCP, and never be the same. Two years beyond that, one of them would die of cancer. And eventually, one of the boys, inspired by the tragedies of the other three, would begin to write stories and fireside tales of his youth that would impact the lives of other kids. But that would be in the future. Tonight, they were all simply living in the moment.

One of these boys was Reason Nelson, a small, slender kid from Havelock, who had once been a rowdy delinquent caught up in the juvenile court system. In past months, however, he’d steered clear of serious trouble and overcome a problem with substance abuse. And though, Reason now considered himself recovered, his old probation officer voluntarily met with him on a weekly basis. It was she, familiar with his rascally charm, who claimed, “You are a rogue at heart. And with your shaggy hair and the mischievous gleam in your blue eyes, you remind me of a modern-day Tom Sawyer or Huck Finn. And boys like you, always need someone to watch over them.”

Having just finished telling his tale, Reason Nelson drifted into the surrounding shadows. With his dark hair trailing over his shoulders in wild tangles, he moved swiftly to pick up a long stick. Giving the stick a Ninja-like twirl, he quickly returned to the fire and sat back down. Across the fire from Reason, Craig Cline eyed the stick he held.

Tall, lean, and resembling an adolescent version of Elijah Wood, Craig slipped strands of chestnut hair behind his ears, and asked, “Scared by your own story? All this spooky talk creepin’ you out?”

“A little,” Reason admitted.

Small, skinny red-haired Joey Tate scrunched up his freckled nose and said, “I got the creeps, too.”

Trent Petraza pawed at his glasses as they slipped down the bridge of his nose. He looked across the fire at Reason. “Gettin’ another premonition like that night after you crashed your bike? Your nappy hairs startin’ to tingle?”

“Nappy hairs?” asked Joey.

“On his nuts, stupid!” said Trent.

“Oh,” responded Joey. He then timidly asked, “What about the premonition?”

Craig cryptically whispered, “Reason saw a ghost! The wan- dering soul of Johnny Cooper! But tell us what you saw before that, Reason. Tell us about–“

“There ain’t no such thing as ghosts!” blurted Joey.

“Joey’s making butter-brickle supreme in his undies,” teased Trent.

Joey snapped, “Shut up, Trent! Who was tellin’ Reason to quit talkin’ about that thing that chased him out by the Night- mare? Who was whizzin’ in their pee-stained crusties, then?”

“Shut up, Joey!”

“Bite me!”

“Butt lick!”

“Dickweed!”

“Masturbator!”

“I am not!” burst from Joey’s lips, which caused Craig and Reason to laugh because Trent had scored a direct hit.

Craig then looked at Reason. “Go on, dude! Tell them about the white dove with its beak stuck in its chest!”

“Breast,” Reason corrected him.

But he remained silent, refusing to talk about what he’d seen on his long walk home after crashing his bike at the Nightmare. He was relieved when Craig snorted, “Fine. Finish the other part of the story, Reason. Finish telling us that part. Okay?”

Chapter Two

11:10 P.M.

The howls of coyotes erupted in the distance. All four of the boys looked up, peering warily at the shadows beyond their campsite. Reason waited. One second. Two seconds. Three. The coyotes howled again.

As the other boys scooted closer to the fire, Reason quietly said, “They called her Bloody Mary . . . because she blew some kid away with a shotgun. One blast to the face and he was dead. A damned serious consequence for a stupid prank. Kids had harassed her for years. Shooting her goats, hooting at her from their cars, and sneaking up to her house to bang on her windows. Just bored kids driving out to the country to scare the defenseless old lady.

“Someone had a real dumb idea that night. Sneaking into her house would be the ultimate prank. Halfway through her kitchen window, the kid probably wondered why the old lady wasn’t shrieking in terror. Mary probably wondered if she was going to die. She pointed her shotgun at the intruder, and pulled the trigger. In a storm of hot lead and black smoke, blood and bones flew amongst shards of glass, and that unlucky kid was blown into the next life. The thunder of that blast echoed across Lincoln. At that moment in time, a legend was born. And no one screwed with Bloody Mary after that.

“Mary had an ally, though. A guardian she never knew or saw. Someone or some thing that stalked the banks of Salt Creek near the Woods. Two kids on dirt bikes claimed they saw him or it one July evening. Their headlights slicing through the sum- mer night, the boys swore they saw: Glowing green eyes. Gleam- ing white fangs. The long face of a baboon. The deformed body of a massive dog. It hissed, seconds before it exploded out of the bushes. The boys raced like hell to get out of there.

“Months later, other kids claimed they saw the thing sham- bling through the trees near Mary’s house. Rumors spread that it was a beast–part baboon, part dog–bred by a scientist at AG. College. And seen or unseen, it was no longer fun to go any- where near the old lady’s house. Someone named it the Salt Creek Creature, and . . . another legend was born.”

The coyotes had stopped howling. A quietness settled on the Woods. The crackling fire filled the night air with pops and low hisses. Craig startled them all as he said, “Tell us about that night again, Reason! Tell us the story one more time. Okay?”

Reason nodded. “Well, like I said, someone or some thing sprang out of the bushes beside the trail and chased after me. I gunned it through the Nightmare and slammed into a tree. I then flew through the air and landed at the edge of the pond–“

“God!” blurted Joey, creeped out by the image alone.

“Jesus!” said Trent, his twin lenses reflecting firelight.

Reason grinned, enjoying their reaction as he recounted the tale about the night something had chased him along the banks of Salt Creek. The other three boys gazed into the campfire, and for long moments, visions of the legendary Bloody Mary and the Salt Creek Creature came to life before them.

Reason finished his story. The other three boys remained silent, lost in their own thoughts. A light breeze spiraled down through moonlit leaves above them. Within the amber ring of fire, embers whizzed through the air like tiny zephyrs. In a nearby tree, an owl hooted softly. Somewhere out by the creek, its mate responded with a muffled murmur. From the pond at the edge of the Woods came the low, steady croaking of bullfrogs. In the distance, a lone coyote howled.

Listening to the sounds and savoring the scent of wood smoke, Reason sighed in contentment. Peering at the pulsing embers glowing like magic gems within the low burning fire, he thought, This is a good night to be alive! An even better night to be sharing a campfire with friends in the country. God, will my life ever get any better than this?

Joey and Trent kept staring across the fire at Reason, wonder- ing if his tale had been just a spoof to give them the willies.

Suddenly, Joey peered wide-eyed into the trees, whispering, “Thought I something move out there!”

The shrill blast of a train whistle echoed from the bridge over Salt Creek in the distance.

Startled by the blast, Craig hissed, “Shit!”

“No shit!” gasped Reason.

Trent whispered, “I almost did shit!”

“I’ve got to pee,” croaked Joey.

Reason gripped his stick and slowly turned in a circle to study the trees surrounding their campsite. With a defiant smirk, he said, “There ain’t no one out there.”

Getting up to toss a stump into the fire, Craig asked, “Ever been back there since that night? Back to Mary’s house?”

“No,” responded Reason.

Joey made a face. “Don’t talk about her no more tonight. And don’t talk about that Creature again, either. Okay, Reason?”

“Why?” quipped Craig. “Whazamadder, Joewee? Think it might be out there . . . watching us?”

Dropping another chunk of wood on the fire, Craig turned and walked boldly away from the others. He stopped at a point where the fire’s light barely illuminated woodland blackness. Spinning around, he peeled down his jeans and underwear and bent over to aim his bare butt at the shadows beyond.

He then shouted, “Hey, monkey balls! Come kiss my pale white butt! Yeah, that’s right, Creature, come give me a smack!”

Joey and Trent gaped at him in total disbelief.

“Geesh!” whimpered Joey. “Keep hollering like that, and she’ll hear us out here!”

“Hey, Mary?” Craig yelled, laughing as his jeans fell down around his ankles. “You can come kiss me, too!”

Joey’s eyes filled with tears. “Reason, get him to stop!”

Craig looked back at them and sneered, then promptly spun his butt in their direction, saying, “Wonder what happens when the Creature sees a full moon!”

“God, gross!” growled Trent.

“Sicckkk!” muttered Joey.

Reason chuckled, “Stupid peckerwood!”

Craig opened his mouth to respond when suddenly, a loud, deep Huff! echoed through the Woods.

Craig gave a startled yelp and shuffled back to the fire, his jeans around his ankles. Reason caught him as he nearly fell into the flames. Hastily whipping his jeans and underwear back up, Craig gasped, “What in the hell was that?”

Reason gripped his stick in both hands. “Don’t know. But it was close!”

Trent hissed, “It’s him! It’s the–the–baboon thing!”

Joey quietly whimpered, “I wanna go home!”

Reason and Craig narrowed their eyes as they detected move- ment beyond the firelight. It then appeared like a shadow within deeper shadows, gliding to one side of the trail, less than fifty feet away.

Reason said, “Maybe it’s just coyotes.”

Before Craig could respond, the dark figure lurched forward and came shambling down the trail directly toward the boys.

Wailing like a banshee, Joey sprang up and darted to the nearest tree. Muttering garbled words, he clawed his way up into the lower branches. Trent stumbled as he tried to follow him, and his glasses flew off as he crashed to his knees six feet too far from the tree. He crumpled to the ground, assuming a position he’d been taught in Boy Scouts . . . in case of a grizzly bear attack.

Reason fearfully watched the thing’s body begin to take on a distinct shape as it drew closer to the clearing. Standing there frozen, he completely forgot about the stick in his grasp. But when Craig yelled a fierce threat, the spell of terror was broken. Doubling his fists, Craig launched himself over the fire to face the oncoming danger. Reason whirled his stick above his head and joined him. Twin battle cries then exploded into the night air.

Thirty feet away, the ghostly form came to a halt as if it had struck an invisible barrier. The two boys watched in amazement as the bulky shape then darted into the undergrowth and faded between the trees.

Reason and Craig exchanged relieved grins. Whispering too low for Trent or Joey to hear, Craig looked to Reason. “Did that look like a cow to you?”

Reason whispered back, “More like a . . . deer.”

Wanting to keep the spooky element torked tightly, Reason asked, “Did you guys see that thing?”

Chapter Three

Ten feet from the ground and clinging to two branches, Joey replied, “No. All I saw was you guys screaming like idiots.”

Craig said, “If that was the Creature, it’s nothing but a big pussy!”

On the ground beside the tree, Trent turned his head back and forth, resembling a mole in bright sunlight. “I lost my glasses, you guys. Come help me find them.”

Ignoring Trent, Reason stated, “Well, whatever it was, it didn’t want to mess with us.”

He spun his stick over his head and slammed it against the tree. Above him, Joey cried, “Don’t! Do you want it to come–“

His words trailed off. Reason and Craig peered up to see the smaller kid staring in fierce concentration at the service road to the north of the Woods.

“Whoa, you guys!” hissed Joey. “I see headlights! There’s a car coming up the road toward the Woods!”

Craig grinned wickedly. “Hopefully lovers that we can bush- whack!”

“Most definitely!” agreed Reason. “Joey? Stay put and see which way the car goes! If it passes the Turn Around, let us know.”

Joey rose on his tip toes to get a better view of the distant car. “But what if it comes this way? Shouldn’t we put out our fire?”

Craig and Reason didn’t answer him. Momentarily forgetting about the mysterious, dark thing out there in the shadows, both became excited about the prospect of bushwhacking unsuspect- ing lovers parked at the Turn Around. Dashing back to their gear stashed beyond the fire, they were grinning like wild imps as they hastily scrounged through their backpacks.

From his vantage point in the branches of the tree, Joey whispered, “The car’s pulling off into the Turn Around! Now what do we do? Shouldn’t we hurry and get to the edge of the Woods?”

Craig carefully withdrew a carton of eggs from his pack. “We’ve got plenty of time. The whole idea of bushwhacking is to wait until those two in the car are heavily engaged in neck- ing.”

Staring off down the road where the car’s lights winked out, Joey asked, “How does this work, then? You guys are actually gonna lob eggs at the car? And what’s with the light bulbs?”

Craig said, “Shattering light bulbs sound like gunfire. But we also have something Trent invented: Splatter bombs! Light bulbs filled with red and green florescent paint! They’ll splatter- paint windshields!”

Joey peered between the branches. “Well, the dude turned his headlights off. Does that mean it’s definitely two neckers making out?”

Craig simply glanced up at Joey, snapped his fingers, and pointed at the ground.

Crack! echoed loudly throughout the campsite the moment Joey shimmied down from the tree and hit the ground.

Kneeling beside their backpacks, Craig looked up. “What was that?”

On his hands and knees near Joey’s feet, Trent let out a low wail. “Nooo!”

Joey said, “I didn’t mean to! I’m sorry! Honest!”

“God!” cried Trent.

Craig reached inside his pack for one last thing. “Would you two just shut the hell up!”

“You shut up!” growled Trent as he surged to his feet. “Just go screw yourself!”

Moving toward their motorcycles parked nearby, Reason glanced over one shoulder. Looking in total disbelief at Trent, he then stared at Craig, wondering how hard Trent was going to get hit. He was trying to decide if he should intervene when Craig leaped up and charged across the clearing.

But Trent whipped one hand up in the air between them and Craig skidded to a stop. Trent bawled, “Joey broke my glasses! I’m dead! Deader than a cadaver beneath the Dental building’s tombs!”

Craig still simmered, but he silently examined the glasses in Trent’s grasp. Flicking the cracked right lens with one finger, he snapped, “Quit your whining! They’re still good. Just close your right eye and you won’t know the difference.”

Trent looked down as if he were holding a dead roach in his hand. “But my dad will kill me!”

Joey offered, “I’m sorry. I’ll tell your dad it was partially my fault.”

“Partially?” muttered Trent, slowly raising the glasses to his face.

“I said I’m sorry!”

“Enough!” snarled Craig, pushing Joey and giving Trent slack as he watched him adjusting the glasses on the bridge of his nose. Trent whined, “How can I sneak up on some car when I can’t even see?”

Joey looked over at the egg cartons. “What if we egg this car and some psycho jumps out? What if he’s got a knife or a gun?”

Moving methodically among their four dirt bikes, Reason said, “That’s why I have the cycles ready. Gas valves are open. If some nutcase chases us back here, we just start our bikes and go flying outta here!”

Carefully extracting two last items from his backpack, Craig said, “Joey, you still gotta pee? Do it on the fire. We need to douse it before we head to the north end of the Woods. The way that blaze is going, some jerk chasing us might spot it.”

Looking over at the two light bulbs Craig held, Joey stepped up to the fire and began fiddling with his zipper. “Who gets to throw them lightning bug butt-bombs?”

“Quit calling them that!” snapped Trent. “They’re splatter bombs, idjit. I’ll decide who throws them. Probably me and Craig. You’d just drop yours and waste it before we got to the edge of the Woods!”

Reason and Craig scooped up the egg cartons and moved down the trail winding toward the deep end of the Woods. Joey zipped up and hurried past their dirt bikes. Trent took two un- steady steps, then stopped to adjust his glasses. Tightly closing his right eye, he then fell in behind Joey, staggering down the trail like a drunk trying to walk a straight line.

Upon reaching the north end of the Woods nearly three hundred yards from their campsite, the four boys hunkered down in the shadows between the trees. Holding up a hand, Reason signaled for the other three to move forward into the undergrowth next to the trail. Trent and Joey sidled up against trees and waited for his next command. Helping Craig place the egg cartons on the ground, Reason assessed their situation.

Beyond the copse of trees was an open field stretching to their right. To their left lay the road and Salt Creek. But directly before them–no more than thirty feet away–was a deep ravine. On the other side of this ravine lay the Turn Around. In the center of the parking lot sat a white Cadillac, cigarette smoke drifting from its driver’s side window.

Reason whispered, “Remember, if this Casanova comes after us, we ditch him in the trees, then get to our bikes and split!”

Joey scooted in close behind Reason, his warm, stinky breath blowing on his neck. Reason was about to elbow him when Trent stepped in close to them and handed Joey one of the splatter bombs. Joey looked confused. Trent simply whispered, “Your arms are too puny to lob an egg over the ravine, so you get to toss one of these instead.”

“Thanks!” responded Joey, staring down at the glowing bulb as if he held a treasure.

Looking over his shoulder at Reason, Craig whispered, “We gonna check it out first or just hit and run?”

Reason studied the Cadillac for long moments. If the boys darted out of the line of trees where they hid and ran to the lip of the ravine, they would have to heave their missiles another thirty feet to make direct hits. Reason knew, from hunting out there in the winter, that the ravine separating them from the Turn Around was at least twenty feet deep. Its steep sides would be treacherous for any nutcase who tried to come after them. If the idiot didn’t stumble and fall onto the chunks of concrete below, he would still have to climb up to their side of the ravine. By that time, four hysterically laughing boys would vanish into the woodlands.

His knees beginning to shake from the rush of adrenalin he always felt before a raid, Reason peeked around the tree. He could see two shadowy figures seated in the front seat of the car. He was about to advise a hit and run, when the front doors on the Cadillac swung open and two men climbed out, the cherries of their cigarettes glowing in the darkness.

Chapter Four

Locked in a heated debate, the two men failed to notice the boys taking cover on the opposite side of the ravine. Craig slid behind a tree. Trent and Joey kneeled behind a row of shrubs, and Reason dropped down behind a bushy marijuana plant next to the trail.

In the parking lot, one of the men said, “I get to do the shoot- ing, right?”

“Hell, no! You’d just screw it up!”

“I knew you’d pull this! Why can’t I shoot him?”

“Don’t turn into an ass over this, Rawlins.”

“Just give me one of the guns! We’ll both blow him away!”

The taller of the two approached the trunk of the car, his keys jangling in his meaty grasp. “Just shut up, Rawlins! Get out your lighter and help me find the hole for this damned key!”

A flicker of flame came from the hand of heavyset Rawlins, and the taller man slid the key into the trunk slot and cautiously raised the hood.

Rawlins asked, “Is he awake, Beck? I ain’t touchin’ him if he’s awake!”

Beck, the larger man, snatched the lighter away from Raw- lins. “You’re becoming a real pain! Maybe after I shoot him, I’ll shoot you, too!”

Beck flicked on the lighter and stepped back toward the open car trunk. “He’s still pretty groggy,” he said.

He leaned over and reached into the trunk. “Damn, this bas- tard is heavy! Get over here and help me lift him out!”

Rawlins responded, “I’ll help if I get to do the shooting. Come on, Beck. One shot apiece. The first one might not kill him any- way. Okay?”

Beck snarled, “You loopy bastard! Get your fat ass over here or when I’m done with this thing, I’ll leave you out here!”

As Beck scooped up a dark, bulky shape from the confines of the trunk, Rawlins hopped forward to help. The two men grunted as they stepped away from the car and placed their bur- den on the ground.

Beck retrieved a rifle from the trunk and said, “He’s too doped up to do anything but sit there! Get the camera.”

Rawlins walked back to the car. Beck stood there fumbling with the bolt of the rifle. When the shadowy form at his feet moved, he snarled a string of foul words. He then stepped back and cocked his rifle.

Shafts of moonlight illuminated the sad-eyed features of the black Labrador peering up at Beck. Weaving unsteadily and letting out a sorrowful whine, the dog crumpled to the ground, and Beck raised his rifle, saying, “Say good-bye to this world, dog.”

He then froze as a noise came from the field forty feet to the east of the Turn Around.

“What’s that?” snapped Rawlins, staring at the long, gray shapes that appeared to be floating toward the Woods.

“Deer!” hissed Beck, his voice carrying across the field.

The buck of the herd gave a startled snort and skidded to a stop. The eight does behind him stopped, as well. Nine sets of eyes locked on the two men standing in the parking lot. With another snort, the buck leaped forward, headed past the lot, and ran toward the Woods. The does behind him wheeled and scattered. Six headed into tall corn stalks at the eastern edge of the field. The remaining two does sprinted after the buck.

he boys stared in stunned amazement at the pitiful sight of the dog peering up at Beck.

Reason whispered, “This just ain’t gonna happen! Trent and Joey, if Craig and I can get these guys to chase us, go grab the dog and hide down near the creek. Don’t come out until we come back to find you. Understand?”

Trent and Joey scooted up close to a tree and dropped to their knees, too terrified to argue.

“How we gonna get them to chase us?” questioned Craig.

Pointing down at the hedge apples littering the ground, Reason replied, “We’ll piss them off!”

In the eery glow of the moon, the fist-sized green balls re- minded Reason of pods from some weird Sci Fi flick. He swiftly scooped up two of the apples, saying, “These are gonna hurt.”

“Hope so,” said Craig, picking up two more. “Last one back to the cycles is . . . dead.”

Two steps away from the deep shadows of the Woods, Reason and Craig watched the buck bound over the ravine before them. Spotting the boys blocking the main trail, the buck veered off and entered the Woods at its northeast tip. The two does were quick to follow.

“Let’s do this!” whispered Reason.

Craig drew his arm back, rolled his shoulder, and heaved one of his hedge apples with tremendous force. As it arced out over the ravine, Reason let loose with his. Both boys then stood there amazed as Reason’s apple hit dead center, striking Beck in the middle of his forehead. Craig’s hedge apple missed com- pletely, but thunked loudly as it struck the car. He immediately heaved his second apple. It hit Rawlins in the chest, causing him to drop his camera. The bulb flashed as it spun out of his grasp. In the bright flash, Beck and Rawlins appeared like silver ghosts. Beck dropped the rifle and fell to his knees. Rawlins pawed at his chest, moaning in pain.

“Hey, jerk-offs!” shouted Craig. “Come out here to be alone?”

Beck surged to his feet, blood running down the left side of his face. He swayed unsteadily, focusing on the two boys on the south side of the ravine. “What the hell’s your problem?”

Craig lobbed two more hedge apples at the man. The first sailed over Beck and splattered on the windshield. The second apple thudded against Beck’s chest. “You are dead!” he snarled.

Rawlins looked at Beck in confusion. “Who are they?”

“Don’t know!” snapped Beck. “But I’m gonna shoot ’em if they throw one more of those damned things!”

Rawlins was hit in the chest and face by another volley. Groaning in pain, he fell to his knees beside the black Lab.

“That’s enough!” shouted Beck, darting to the edge of the ravine. “You guys are so goddamned dead!”

Drawing a pistol from a holster beneath his jacket, he aimed it at his tormentors. And fired. Crack! The report of the .22 pistol sounded like thunder in the night air. A hot, lead slug whizzed into the trees directly above the four boys.

On the far side of the ravine, Craig yelled, “Jesus!” then wheeled around and collided with Trent. The two of them went down in a heap to one side of the trail. Reason slipped behind a tree, yet peeked around its trunk to watch the men.

Rawlins skidded to a stop beside Beck as he fired off a second shot. “Come on!” he yelled at Rawlins and started down into the ravine. “I’m gonna plug these little bastards!”

Watching Beck slide down the steep bank, Rawlins asked, “What about the dog? What if it runs off?”

From the bottom of the ravine, Beck snapped, “It ain’t going nowhere! It’s too damned doped up to even lift its leg! Now, come on!”

Casting one last uncertain glance at the Lab seated there in a dazed stupor, Rawlins stumbled and fell into the ravine.

Watching from his place of concealment, Reason saw the heavyset man drop down and out of sight. An explosion of cursing immediately followed. Reason hoped the fat guy had fallen directly onto Beck, for it would give them the spare seconds they needed to clear out of there.

Craig had been thinking the same thing, but as he leaped up to join Reason, Trent jumped up, too terrified to follow through with Reason’s plan for saving the dog. The three of them bolted toward a narrow bottleneck in the trail, racing each other. Yet when they reached the ribbon of trail, Craig and Trent slammed into Reason and went crashing into the undergrowth beside the path. Reason spun around and dropped to one knee, gasping for breath. Facing the opening at the edge of the Woods, he expected to see Beck and Rawlins charging at him. Instead, he saw Joey.

Despite the danger they were in, Joey had retrieved the paint bombs. But as he ran, the sudden crackling of branches caused him to wheel around. Joey let out a girlish scream as the three deer then bolted onto the main trail. The little kid flailed his arms, and like white doves, the light bulbs flew up into the air. Joey was smacked in the face as the buck plowed him down and then sprinted through the bottleneck past Reason.

Reason’s eyes were drawn to the paint bombs as they struck the oncoming does. The light bulbs exploded and the deer were splattered with bursts of glowing paint. As the terrified animals passed within a foot of Reason’s face, brilliant red and green streaks streamed along their shoulders.

“Cool!” he whispered, and then leaped up and darted down the path toward Joey.

Joey staggered to his feet. Reason placed him in a headlock, closed a hand over his mouth, and hauled him off the trail. He then swiftly pulled him down to the ground. Both of them froze as they heard, “There they go!”

A second later, Beck appeared at the opening leading into the Woods. Peering in confusion at the glowing streaks of red and green paint swiftly moving off into the trees, he snapped, “What the hell is that?”

Concealed by the thick undergrowth, Trent and Craig buried their faces in their folded arms, praying they wouldn’t be seen. On the opposite side of the path, Reason and Joey watched the large man run down the trail leading deeper into the Woods. Rawlins came tromping down the path behind him, whispering, “Beck, where are you?”

Reason counted to five as he watched the bulky form of Raw- lins disappear around a bend in the trail. He then sprang up, yanking Joey to his feet. “Let’s go!” he softly commanded.

And though Joey whimpered, “I wanna go home,” both Craig and Trent joined them in the center of the trail, knowing full well what Reason planned to do.

The Woods is the third book in the chronicles of Reason Nelson. It finds Reason and his friends entangled in a web of deceit, treachery, and long-told tales of fear and violence stemming from the wooded area north of Lincoln. He and his friends uncover a plot that could lead all of them down the most dangerous path of all, along with revealing the secrets of Bloody Mary, the woman who dwells in the woods and murders unwelcome guests on sight.

Chapter One

There in the realm known as the Woods, four young boys sat beside a campfire, staring in awe at the blue mist rising above the nearby pond. At that moment in time, they were fifteen-year-old boys, camping out in the country, trying to remain unafraid of the darkness as blue moonlight turned the wooded grove into a mystical wonderland.

In two months, however, one of them would put a .45 to his head and pull the trigger. One week later, one boy would smoke a joint laced with PCP, and never be the same. Six months beyond that, one of them would die of cancer. And eventually, one of the boys, forever changed by the tragedies of the other three, would begin to write stories that would impact the lives of other kids.

But that would be in the future. Tonight, they were living in the moment. And unaware of the trouble coming their way.

Reason Nelson stood up, peering into the surrounding shadows. Small and slender with dark, shoulder-length hair, he wore a smug look on his face as he picked up a stick and hastily sat back down.

On the opposite side of the fire, tall, lanky Craig Cline slipped long strands of brown hair behind his ears. “What’s wrong?” he asked. “Gettin’ the creeps?”

Reason shrugged, silently staring at the clouds of mist drifting above the pond at the edge of the black trees. “Those,” he said, “are the ghosts of Pawnee warriors who died in tribal warfare.”

Skinny, red-haired Joey Tate scrunched up his nose and said, “For real? Did Indians really die here?”

“Yes,” Craig replied. “They were savagely slaughtered, too.”

“You’re so full of crap!” said Trent Petraza, his shaggy, blond bangs bunching up on the rim of his glasses.

Pawing at his glasses as they slipped down to the bridge of his nose, Trent said, “Tell us about that ghost you saw out by the Nightmare, Reason.”

Joey warily asked, “What ghost?”

Craig said, “Reason saw the ghost of Bobby Cooper!”

“There ain’t no such thing as ghosts!” Joey blurted.

Trent teased, “Joey’s making butter-brickle supreme in his undies.”

“Shut up, Trent!” Joey snapped. “Who was just telling Reason to quit talking about that thing that lives out by the Nightmare? Who was whizzing in their pee-stained crusties, then?”

“Shut up, Joey!”

“Bite me, Trent!”

“Butt lick!”

“Dickweed!”

“Masturbator!”

“I am not!” yelled Joey, causing Craig and Reason to laugh because Trent had scored a direct hit.

Craig then looked at Reason. “Go on, dude! Tell them about the white dove with its beak stuck in its chest!”

“Breast,” Reason corrected him.

But he remained silent, refusing to talk about what he’d seen as he’d rode his cycle through the haunted ground known as the Nightmare. He was relieved when Craig said, “Well then, tell us another story. Tell us about Bloody Mary.”

The howls of coyotes erupted in the distance. Ghostly shadows gathered beyond their campsite. Reason waited. One second. Two seconds. Three. Four. The coyotes howled again.

Reason then said, “They called her Bloody Mary, because she blew some kid away with a shotgun. One blast to the face and he was dead. A damned serious consequence for a stupid prank. Kids had harassed her for years. Shooting her goats. Hooting at her from their cars. Sneaking up to her house to bang on her windows. Just bored kids driving out to the country to scare the defenseless old lady.

“Someone had a real dumb idea that night. Sneaking into her house would be the ultimate prank. Halfway through her kitchen window, the kid froze in terror as Mary pointed her shotgun at him. She then pulled the trigger, and that unlucky kid was blown into the next life. The thunder of that blast echoed across Lincoln, and a legend was born. And no one screwed with Bloody Mary after that.”

Pausing for several seconds, Reason then said, “Mary had a guardian, though. Some thing that stalked the banks of Salt Creek near the Woods. Two kids on dirt bikes claimed they saw it one July evening. Glowing green eyes. Gleaming white fangs. The face of a demented baboon. The deformed body of a massive dog.

Rumors soon began to spread that it was a beast bred by scientists at Ag. College. And seen or unseen, it was no longer fun to go anywhere near the old lady’s house. Someone named it the Salt Creek Creature, and . . . another legend was born.”

The coyotes stopped howling. Silence settled on the Woods. Craig startled them all as he said, “Tell us about how you saw Bobby Cooper’s ghost out by the Nightmare, Reason!”

“God!” Joey blurted. “I don’t wanna hear that one!”

“Pussy!” Trent taunted, his twin lenses reflecting firelight.

Reason grinned, but remained silent, refusing to tell the story about the night something had chased him along the banks of Salt Creek.

A light breeze spiraled down through the leaves of the trees, causing embers within the fire to whiz through the air like tiny zephyrs. In a nearby tree, an owl hooted softly. Out by the creek, its mate responded with a muffled murmur. The steady croaking of frogs drifted from the pond at the edge of the Woods. Reason peered down at the embers glowing like magic gems and thought, This is a good night to be alive! An even better night to be sharing a fire with friends. Does life get any better than this?

Reason Nelson had once been a delinquent on probation with the juvenile court system. In past months, however, he’d steered clear of serious trouble and had overcome a major problem with substance abuse. And though he now considered himself recovered, his former probation officer still met with him on a weekly basis. It was she who claimed, “Reason, you are a rogue at heart. A shaggy-haired Puck. A mischievous, modern-day Huck Finn. And boys like you always need someone to watch over them.”

Reason didn’t think so, though. He figured he was doing fairly well on his own. He’d quit using drugs. He’d stopped drinking. And he hadn’t been in any kind of trouble with the law for several long months. For him, this was a major accomplishment.

Getting up to toss a stump into the fire, Joey said, “Don’t talk no more about Bloody Mary and that Creature, okay?”

“Why?” quipped Craig. “Whazamadder, Joey? Think it might be out there . . . watching us?”

In a bold move, Craig walked away from the fire and into the woodland blackness. Spinning around, he aimed his butt at the shadows beyond, then shouted, “Hey, monkey balls! Come kiss my pale white butt! Hey, Mary! You can come kiss me, too!”

Joey whimpered, “Reason, get him to stop!”

Craig then spun his butt in their direction, saying, “Wonder what happens when the Creature sees a full moon?”

Reason said, “Quit being such a stupid peckerwood.”

Craig opened his mouth to respond when suddenly, a loud, deep Huff! echoed through the Woods.

Trent hissed, “It’s him! It’s the baboon thing!”

Joey said, “It’s Bloody Mary!”

Reason narrowed his eyes as he detected movement beyond the firelight, less than fifty feet away.

A dark form then came down the trail directly toward the boys.

Wailing like a banshee, Joey sprang up and darted to the nearest tree. Muttering garbled words, he clawed his way up into the lower branches. Trent’s glasses flew off as he crashed to his knees and crumpled to the ground. Reason watched the shadowy form as it drew closer. Standing there frozen, he completely forgot about the stick in his grasp.

But when Craig boldly yelled a challenge at the oncoming danger, the dark shape darted into the undergrowth and faded between the trees. “Did that look like a cow to you?” he whispered.

Reason whispered back, “It was a deer.”

On the ground beside the tree, Trent turned his head back and forth, resembling a mole in bright sunlight. “I lost my glasses, you guys. Come help me find them.”

Ten feet from the ground, clinging to two branches, Joey hissed, “Hey, you guys! I see headlights coming down the service road!”

Reason and Craig peered up to see the smaller kid staring in fierce concentration at the service road to the north of the Woods.

“Whoa, you guys!” said Joey. “There’s a car coming up the road toward the Woods!”

　Chapter Two

 

Craig said, “A car coming up the service road? Great! Joey, stay put! See which way the car goes!”

He then dashed over to their gear stashed beyond the fire, excited about the prospect of bushwhacking.

High in the tree, Joey said, “The car’s pulling off into the Turn Around! Shouldn’t we hurry and get to the edge of the Woods?”

Grinning like a wild imp as he scrounged through his backpack, Craig said, “We’ve got time. The whole idea of bushwhacking is to wait until those two in the car are heavily engaged in necking. Then we sneak up and lob eggs at the car!”

Joey asked, “So what’s with the light bulbs?”

Craig said, “The light bulbs are filled with gobs of florescent paint! They not only splatter-paint windshields, but they sound like gunfire when they shatter!”

Joey shimmied down from the tree, and a loud Crack! startled them all as he landed directly on top of Trent’s glasses.

Trent cried out, “Nooo!”

“I didn’t mean to!” Joey nearly cried himself. “I’m sorry!”

“God!” Trent growled. “You moron!”

Carefully withdrawing a carton of eggs from his pack, Craig snapped, “Would you two just shut the hell up!”

“You shut up!” Trent responded. “Just go screw yourself!”

Moving toward their motorcycles parked nearby, Reason glan-ced back to see Craig charge across the clearing. Before Craig could punch him, Trent bawled, “Joey broke my glasses! I’m deader than a cadaver beneath the Dental building’s tombs!”

Sullenly examining the glasses in Trent’s grasp, Craig flicked the cracked right lens with one finger. “Quit whining! Just close your right eye and you won’t know the difference.”

Trent looked down as if he were holding a dead roach in his hand. “But my dad will kill me!”

“Enough!” snarled Craig, raising the glasses and placing them on the bridge of Trent’s nose.

Joey looked over at the egg cartons. “What if we egg this car, and some psycho jumps out with a knife or a gun?”

Moving methodically among their four dirt bikes, Reason said, “That’s why I’m opening the gas valves. If some nutcase chases us back here, we escape on our bikes! Besides, I’m gonna take my bike down the road to scout out the situation. If we’ve got lovers necking at the Turn Around, then I swing back here and we bushwhack them. But if I spot some psycho parked down there, we call off our raid, Joey.”

Craig scooped up several egg cartons and started off down the trail. “Get going, Reason! We’ll move into position, and you can meet up with us at the edge of the Woods.”

Joey scooped up three egg cartons and followed behind Craig. Mounting his 250 Kawasaki, Reason grinned as he watched Trent peer through his cracked lens and stagger down the trail.

Reason revved his bike and zipped out onto the service road beyond the Woods.

Three hundred yards from their campsite, he zipped past the Turn Around, a small parking lot to one side of the road. A car was parked there, two shadowy forms visible in the front seat. Which was a good sign. Two people parked there meant some kid had brought his girl out there to spend quality time with her.

In the past, Reason and Craig had gone on dozens of raids, rudely interrupting make-out sessions between unsuspecting lovers. Tonight, Reason figured would be no different. But first, he would scout out the place. They had to choose their victims wisely. It was safe to lob eggs at the cars of wimps. Wimpy guys were too terrified to play hero by chasing them into the Woods, unaware that it had been a bunch of wimpier kids who had nailed his car.

If Reason, however, discovered a tough guy and his girl making out, they would call off the raid. Tough guys made bushwhacking way too dangerous.

Reason rode past the white Cadillac parked at the Turn Around, and kept going down the road, planning to ride another hundred feet, and then ride back to the Woods.

Suddenly, he gasped as another dirt bike appeared on the road before him. “Asshole!” he cursed as the other rider flew past him.

Reason glanced back, catching a glimpse of the man’s long, black hair trailing over his shoulders. He groaned as the unknown cyclist then spun around and came flying back in his direction.

Wishing now that he hadn’t mouthed off to the guy, Reason headed north down the road, hoping to lose the biker on one of the side trails ahead. He didn’t want to ride too far down the road, for directly ahead of him was Bloody Mary’s house.

The rider behind him, however, was closing in fast.

Reason swerved off the service road and headed up a trail snaking its way along the banks of nearby Salt Creek. Whipping his bike back and forth on the zigzagging trail, Reason thought maybe if he was lucky, he would lose him in the thickets ahead, and the biker would continue on to get blown away by Mary.

After long moments of hard riding, Reason looked back to find the rider gone, but suddenly an owl swooped down from the branches above him and glided away like a winged ghost. A second later, a dark form exploded out of the bushes beside the path.

Viciously clawing at his throttle, Reason sent the battered 250 Kaw shooting forward like a rocket, its back tire spitting dust at the shadowy figure. Speeding through the next S-shaped curve, Reason whipped the bike through the tight switchback. Far ahead, he could see an opening between the trees, marking the path known as the Fat Lady’s Nightmare. The trail there snaked down between a dozen trees, then looped around a deep ravine. Years ago, Bobby Cooper had attempted to jump his bike over the ravine, only to crash and die sixty feet below in Salt Creek.

Reason twisted his throttle and sent the bike soaring toward the Nightmare. As he shot down the slope, he looked back to see the black figure scramble out of the trees behind him.

At the bottom of the steep incline, he slammed into a fence post. The Kaw’s front tire popped, its headlamp shattered, and Reason flew over the handlebars. He landed at the edge of a small pond, skidding crazily across slick, mossy ground, scattering frogs in all directions. Blackness then attached itself to him like an anchor and he began to tumble into the murky waters of the pond.

Suddenly, Reason felt long, bony hands grasping at his shoulders, pulling him away from the moonlit black waters. Sucking in gulps of air, he drifted in and out of consciousness.

When Reason opened his eyes, he saw fireflies shimmering above him like tiny green jewels. He gave a low moan. Nothing seemed to be broken, but his head hurt like hell. Trying to focus, he peered up at the wrinkled features of what looked like a large monkey. Still fighting to remain conscious, Reason focused on its protruding lips and its large, yellow eyes.

It was then gone, fading into the shadows like a swift wind. He thought it crossed the pond. If so, the ape-faced creature must have floated, for it made no sound with its passing.

Then, a second figure kneeled beside him.

Reason felt a hand on his brow. He stared up into the piercing green eyes of an old woman. Silvery-white hair trailed over her shoulders and she wore a long, snow-white dress. It was the Lady of the Woods. The legendary Bloody Mary, who despised kids. Certain she was preparing to blast him with both barrels, Reason fearfully asked, “You going to shoot me?”

A smile creased the ancient lady’s weathered face as she patted Reason gently on one cheek.

“Foolish child,” she said. “I just saved you.”

She then vanished like mist in the wind.

　Chapter Three

 

When Reason fully regained consciousness, he found himself alone at the edge of the pond. He groaned when he saw his ruined cycle. There was no way he would be able to ride the battered Kaw back to the Woods. The bike would have to be hauled out of there in pieces.

Still slightly baffled by his encounter with the old lady, Reason clambered up and hastily headed toward the nearby service road. As he trudged along, he swore that he would not tell the other boys about anything that happened after he’d crashed. They would scoff and laugh in total disbelief. Especially if he told them he’d actually been rescued by Bloody Mary.

Once Reason reached the service road, he ran, trying to make up for lost time. He assumed that the others had abandoned the bushwhacking raid by now. More than likely, they had probably returned to the campfire, wondering what had happened to him.

Thirty minutes later, Reason came within sight of the Woods.

Surprised to see the Cadillac still parked at the Turn Around, he kneeled down and slipped into a row of hedges on the north side of the parking lot. Before peeking through a gap in the bushes, he listened to determine if anyone in the car had seen him.

Finally, hearing nothing to indicate anyone had climbed out of the Cadillac, Reason peered through a break in the hedges. Thirty feet in front of him sat the car. Thirty feet beyond the car lay the lip of a ravine lined by the dark trees marking the north end of the Woods. If indeed the other three boys were hiding there, he couldn’t see them. Which was a good thing. Because that meant the two people inside the Cadillac couldn’t see them either.

Reason looked to his right toward the service road and Salt Creek. He then studied the open field stretching to his left. To get back to the Woods, he would have to crawl through the field, then climb down into the ravine beyond. He knew that the ravine separating the Turn Around from the Woods was at least twenty feet deep. To cross it, he would have to stealthily climb down its steep sides and avoid making any noise.

He was about to crawl out of the hedges, when the front doors on the car swung open and two men climbed out, the cherries of their cigarettes glowing brightly in the darkness.

The men walked around to the trunk of the car. One was short and heavyset with a buzz cut and an ample beer gut. The other man had short, dark hair and a mustache, and he was tall and muscular, and built like a bear.

The short, pudgy guy asked, “Can I do the shooting, Beck?”

Car keys jangling in his meaty grasp, the bigger man snarled, “Shut up, Rawlins! Get out your lighter and help me find the hole for this damned key!”

A flicker of flame came from the hand of chubby Rawlins, and Beck slid the key into the slot and raised the trunk lid.

Rawlins asked, “Is he awake? I ain’t touchin’ him if he is!”

Beck snatched the lighter away from Rawlins, flicked it on, and stepped back to the car’s open trunk. “He’s still pretty groggy. Get over here and help me.”

As Beck scooped up a dark, bulky shape from the confines of the trunk, Rawlins joined him. The two men grunted as they moved away from the car and placed their burden on the ground.

Beck retrieved a rifle from the trunk and said, “He’s too doped up to do anything but sit there!”

He fumbled with the bolt of the rifle. When the shadowy form at his feet moved, he cocked the weapon, pointing it down at the black Labrador sprawled on the ground before him.

Beck then froze as a noise came from the field forty feet to the left of the Turn Around. Both Beck and Rawlins stared at the gray shapes floating toward the Woods.

“Deer!” hissed Beck, causing a buck and six does to stop in the middle of the field. Seven sets of eyes locked on the two men standing in the parking lot. The buck then ran toward the Woods, followed by the does.

Hidden behind the hedges, Reason watched the herd of deer leap over the ravine and bolt toward the Woods. He then looked on in amazement as Craig, Trent, and Joey sprang up in front of the swift-moving deer.

The buck plowed into Joey, sending him tumbling to the ground. As Joey fell, he tossed two paint-bombs high into the air, causing them to look like white doves taking flight. The paint-bombs struck two of the oncoming does and exploded, splattering them with bursts of glowing paint, sending red and green streaks streaming along their shoulders and flanks.

At the Turn Around, Beck and Rawlins ran to the lip of the ravine to get a better look at the scene unfolding before them. The two men collided and Rawlins fell down into the ravine.

Ignoring the fat man’s bellow of pain, Beck glared at the three boys on the south side of the ravine. “Hey, you kids! What the hell you doing over there?”

Raising the rifle, he aimed it at the boys and fired. The report of the .22 rifle sounded like thunder in the night air.

As the lead slug whizzed into the trees at the edge of the Woods, the three boys dove for cover behind trees and bushes.

“Stay where you are!” yelled Beck, starting down the steep slope before him.

Seconds later, he climbed up the slope on the opposite side of the ravine, staring in confusion at the paint-streaked does swiftly moving off into the trees in front of him.

He then ran down the trail, past the hiding place of the three boys. A moment later, Rawlins clambered out of the ravine and ran down the path behind Beck.

Reason sprang up and ran to the edge of the ravine.

Craig madly dashed out of the Woods and slid down into the ravine. Scrambling up and out of the deep gully, he joined Reason in the center of the parking lot.

The two boys approached the dazed Lab sprawled on the ground beside the car. But the dog remained motionless as Reason kneeled down and gently placed a hand on his shoulder. “Is he still alive?” Craig asked. Before Reason could answer, Trent and Joey slammed into the bumper of the nearby Cadillac. Hearing the loud Thunk! made by the two boys, the black Lab peered up at Reason with a curious look in his dark eyes.

Gently petting the dog, Reason hissed, “Hell, you guys! Could you make any more noise?”

Next to the car on his hands and knees, Trent pawed blindly at the ground. “Joey knocked my glasses off! I’m dead if I lose my glasses!”

“We’ll all be dead if those guys come back!” growled Craig.

Reason attempted to raise the dog. “Help me get this thing on its feet! We gotta get it across the road and over by the creek! Those guys were going to shoot him!”

Craig slid his hands beneath the dog’s hindquarters, and they lifted the Lab up and held him in place. The dog attempted to gain his feet, but weaved awkwardly and crumpled to the ground.

“Joey! Trent! Help!” Reason grunted.

Still pawing at the ground, Trent whimpered, “Help me find my glasses! Then I’ll help!”

Joey scrambled up from the ground and Crunch! suddenly echoed across the parking lot. “My glasses!” Trent howled. “You stepped on my glasses! God, you’re such a moron!”

Reason slid both arms beneath the Lab and pulled his limp form against his chest. Craig kneeled on the other side of the dog, and the Lab spastically worked his back legs, then collapsed.

Craig swore in frustration. “How we gonna get him over to the creek? He can’t walk, Reason! And he’s too heavy to carry!”

“Hey!” said Joey, pointing at the raised lid of the trunk. “Keys!”

He snatched up the ring of keys and jangled them in the air. “Let’s drive him out of here,” Craig said, rising to his feet and ripping the keys out of Joey’s hand.

Shocked by the suggestion, Trent gasped, “Steal a car?”

Craig said, “Either that or we let those guys shoot this dog!”

Placing his glasses on the bridge of his nose, Trent looked at him through the spider-web cracks in both lenses. Turning his head at awkward angles and doing a zombie-like shuffle, he walked toward the car, asking, “What if we get caught?”

The sound of gunfire erupted from the south end of the Woods, and Joey slammed the trunk lid closed and Trent opened one of the car’s back doors. Joey and Reason began pushing and shoving to get the Lab onto the backseat. Scooting himself in first, Reason held the dog against his chest and fell backwards inside the car. The Lab raised his head and licked the side of Reason’s face.

Trent clambered in through the front passenger door. Joey jumped in back beside Reason and the dazed dog.

Craig turned the key in the ignition slot and quickly took them soaring down the gravel road leading away from the Woods.