There was no reply.
Jeremy only laughed. I kept hearing that scream repeat in my head, my brain analyzing it over and over for humor.
"Well, I'm gonna go see what he's up to," I said.
"Okay, have fun and don't shit your pants when he grabs hold of your ankle or some shit," Jeremy said.
I laughed nervously and then started walking toward the back of the house as Jeremy and Darrell chattered back and forth.
As I came closer and closer to the back corner of the house, a dim red glow crept through a thin veil of mist covering the back yard. I stopped and looked at the glow. My legs stiffened involuntarily. I was just about to turn back when a loud racket like the sound of things being thrown around in a small room started from behind the house. I managed to make my feet lift off the ground one after another until I came around the back corner of the house.
A small, wood-rotted outhouse stood shaking at the center of about a dozen dead trees, the red glow coming out from between the cracks of the door and in between each heavily weathered board. If Rick was playing a joke on me, he sure as hell worked hard on it. I yelled back to the guys and then in a blinding flash of that same hue of red, the glow disappeared and the outhouse settled still.
Jeremy and Darrell arrived just in time to see nothing out of the ordinary. The door opened with a loud creak and Rick wandered out with his hair disheveled and a confused look on his face.
"Guys, what the hell happened?"
Jeremy and Darrell busted out in laughter.
"Did you fall in again, Ricky?" Darrell asked.
Rick's face changed at once and he was laughing along with the other guys. I stood stone-still watching his every move, unable to shake what I had just seen from my memory.
"Darrell, you asshole, you know I'm too goddamn fat to fall into a toilet.
I must've hit my head in there though. It hurts real fucking bad."
"Sure it does man. That's probably the beer talking. What do you say, man? You ready for destination number two?" Darrell asked and dragged on the tiny butt of his cigarette, the same grin from earlier still covering his face.
"Hell yeah, dude. Let's go."
The guys started walking back toward the van and I was forced to make a decision right then. Either follow and keep what I saw to myself or say something and deal with the blowback. My analytical side still unable to believe it was real won over, telling me I'd only be the butt of their jokes for the rest of the night. So, I followed them back to the van and we headed out.
About 45 minutes later, heading south of Cloverdale on US 231, they still hadn't told me where we were going. Not long afterward, we came to the junction for Highway 42. Rick swerved the van to the right, causing the yellow flashers of the traffic light to stream in the corner of my eyes. Just like that, the last signs of town were replaced with wooded, leaf-covered land marked with an occasional house or cornfield.
No matter how many times I've been down that way--and it's been many--the place never fails to give me the utter willies. Especially in autumn. The tall trees huddle over the land, their branches like bony hands reaching down to pluck the occasional unsuspecting victim from the road.
The blackness between them hiding endless unimaginable terrors watching and waiting.
After traversing at least a dozen hills and curves, we arrived at the familiar entrance to the Lieber State Park camping grounds. Unsurprising to me, the gate was closed and the small ranger station stood completely unlit save for the solitary burglar light from above.
Rick smacked the top of his steering wheel. "Ah, fuck. I should've known they'd be closed for Halloween."
We sat there in the van staring at the yellow-tinted woods beyond the gate.
Darrell interrupted the silence, "Well, I guess we could go to my place, instead."
"No, no, no, wait a minute. I know a way in," Rick said with a sly smile on his lips. Then, he shifted into reverse and peeled out back onto the main road. He hummed something I'd never heard before as he turned into smaller and smaller back roads until we finally ended up on a small dirt road. After a few minutes, the dirt road forked off to the left up a hill with large stones surrounding it. He pulled up onto the hill, the van gunning almost straight upward, throwing Jeremy and I on our backs.
Then the van fell back to level ground with a loud thud and Rick swerved and stopped, pushing all of us forward with inertia. He put the van in park and said, "Well, here we are. Told you guys I knew a way in."
Not having any way of knowing whether we were really in the park or not, I held my tongue. We got out of the van, and before us, the small island of a hill was as nice of a camping spot as any you would find in the park either way. The sound of rushing water in the distance kept complete silence at bay.
Before long, we sat and drank beers around the campfire Rick and Darrell had started. Half a dozen beers apiece later, we popped open the cooler and pulled out the package of hot dogs and started cooking them over the fire.
In between sloppy bites from his hotdog, Darrell bragged about the different girls he had slept with. I couldn't help wondering what kind of girl would sleep with him as those black teeth ground away at his food. I got up and walked out into the woods to take a piss, Darrell's tall tale fading in the background as I went. I caught myself leaning a little as I stared up at the star-strewn sky while my piss continued to stream aimlessly.
There was a rustling beyond the trees and I nearly peed all over myself as I hustled to close up my pants. I held my breath as I squinted in the direction of the sound. I could see nothing but the phantom licks of flame the campfire had burned into my vision. Then, as the pale glow of it faded, I could see movement and I became still as an icy sensation crept up my back.
The movement stopped suddenly and I felt the air thicken around me.
Then, a small white rabbit hopped away from the spot and I exhaled the breath I'd been holding. Goddamn you, Peter Cottontail, I thought. I turned and went back toward the campfire. When I got back, the guys were passing around a joint and I sat next to Jeremy with unease.
Darrell stood up and reached over the fire to hand me the joint and before I could make my usual gesture, Jeremy took hold of it.
"Bob's more of a drinker, man."
Darrell looked at me suspiciously.
"It's cool, man. He's not gonna call the police or anything."
Darrell nodded and smiled with that impish grin again.
"Damn right, he won't. I'd kill him if he did," he said and laughed. The other two joined him and I did my best to smile. If Jeremy wasn't concerned, I would try my best to shake it off.
When the joint was finished. Jeremy climbed into the back of the van and lay down, leaving me in what, I felt, might at any moment turn into a scene from Deliverance. I calmed my nerves with another beer and Darrell and Rick lit up another toke. After a few rounds, the joint came back to Rick and he stood with it in his teeth and started dancing around the fire. The light of the fire and the look in his eyes as he stomped around saying, "Master, oh Master, oh Master of Power," made him look even more like a crazed Chris Farley. His conjuring dance increased in its excitement to the point that Darrell was getting annoyed.
"All right, Rick. It's time to settle it down, man. Jeremy's over there trying to get some sleep and I'm about to do the same."
Rick's chanting only grew louder.
"Master, oh Master, oh Master of Power, I summon thee!" His voice echoed back from the forest.
Darrell, still smiling like a gremlin at Christmas, got up and made a calming gesture with his arms. "Now, Rick, don't make me have to bust a bottle over your head," he said and looked at me, laughing. No sooner had he turned to look back at Rick that the deranged Farley look-a-like reached out, grabbed him, and spun him around so he faced back to me. Darrell laughed with a mix of annoyance and drunkenness as Rick embraced him with one arm.