Goblins (20 page)

Hale had the bag's zipper open already, three sticks of dynamite showing. He didn't want them to die or get trapped down there, but there was no way they could hold off so many. He needed to lessen the number, and there was only one way he knew how.

Jed cocked his shotgun.

“Not yet,” Hale said, and then pulled out two sticks of dynamite.

“Are you going to do what I think you're going to do?” Jed asked.

“Yeah,” Hale said as he twisted the fuses together.

“Won't that cause a cave-in and block us down here?”

“I'm not sure, but probably.” Actually, he was damn sure. But he realized something. The one thing they had forgotten was to buy a long ass fuse. One they could light and run away from before the dynamite went off. With all the explosives he was thinking of using—wanting to make sure the portal was destroyed—he was certain the entire tunnel would be brought down before they even had a chance to get more than fifty feet away.

The goblins hadn't charged yet. They were still filling the tunnel, shouting and swinging their weapons.

Jed cocked his shotgun and started firing.

“Damn it,” Hale yelled. The man had acted too soon.

Two goblins went down. The others then charged forward.

Jed kept firing and his gun was empty in seconds. He dropped the shotgun and pulled out the Glock Hale had given him. Hale shouted for him to stop. They might need the ammo. The man didn't listen. Hale kicked the gun out of Jed's hand. The man's mouth dropped open. “What the hell, man?”

Hale didn't have time to argue with the idiot. He lit the fuses and waited for them to burn low.

Jed scooped up the gun and took off running toward the portal, giving Hale an idea. It was a risk, but if it worked, they might come out of this alive.

Hale licked his fingertips and snuffed out the fuse, then shoved the lighter in his pocket. Grabbing the duffle bag's handles, he picked it up and followed Jed. Every step brought with it the fear of blowing up. He kept on, knowing to slow down would mean they would die.

Jed reached the portal first. He stared at it, then turned around. His face showed surprise at seeing Hale.

“What do we do?” Jed asked.

“Pray,” Hale said and pulled out the lighter. He then lit the short fused bundle of dynamite in his hand. Jed screamed, asking him if he was fucking crazy. Hale just thought he might be after everything he'd been through. He dropped the bundle into the duffle bag, then tossed the duffle bag into the portal.

“What did you do?” Jed asked, hands pressed against the sides of his head. “You threw away our only hope.”

Suddenly the portal shook, made a fizzing noise and then broke apart, revealing a wall of solid stone. Hale spun around and saw the horde of goblins burst into green mist and disappear.

“We did it,” Jed said, and jumped up and down.

Hale fell to his knees, exhausted. Indeed, they had done it. But his relief didn't last long. He heard a cracking sound behind him. He turned around and saw that the wall was crumbling. He smelled the ocean. Droplets of water leaked from small cracks, then it started trickling. The terrible goblin stench was gone. Then it hit him. They were well below sea level and on an island. The tunnel shouldn't have been possible without ocean water flooding it. But the passageway had been made by the goblin king, the water held out by goblin magic. With the portal gone, the magic was too.

“Run!” Hale yelled.

He and Jed took off back the way they had come. They dropped their weapons, ammo magazines and cans of the energy drink Explosion. As exhausted as Hale had been, he was going full speed ahead now, ignoring the pain in his leg. He knew they couldn't run the entire way back.

But they were doing okay until Jed stopped with a cramp and had to rest a few minutes later. Hale was tired too, his body feeling as if he'd been hit by a train. He bent over, hands on his knees and sucked in air. Jed limped around in a circle with a hand pressed to his side.

“I think we're safe,” he said.

Hale thought maybe the man was right, until he smelled the ocean and heard the rush of water. The wall had broken open.

“We need to move,” he shouted.

Jed took a few steps and collapsed. “I can't. Go on. Save yourself.”

Hale wasn't leaving him. He helped the man up, put him on his back and climbed. They were at one of the more steeper parts of the tunnel. The extra weight was unbearable, but Hale dug deep. Sweat poured from his skin. His legs wanted to give out. The rush of water was deafening. Thunderous white noise filled Hale's ears and he could no longer carry Jed, let alone hear himself think. This was it. They were going to drown, but at least they'd stopped the invasion and saved the island.

Hale sat next to Jed and closed his eyes. He hoped death would come quickly. Hoped the water would crush him against the rock and instantly kill him. He didn't want to drown.

Hale waited for what seemed like an eternity. He was afraid, but satisfied he'd done what he'd set out to do. It had been a huge risk tossing the bag into the portal and not detonating it right there. But if it could be destroyed from one side, then why not the other? And if the goblins hadn't evaporated, they would've had a fight on their hands, one he didn't think they'd make it through. It had all worked out until the goblin magic was gone. The island was safe for now, but future generations wouldn't know about the goblin king. It would come back one day, and Hale was afraid the people wouldn't be ready for it. He wished he would've had the chance to journal the events so when the goblin king returned, the people of Roanoke Island would know what was happening and how to stop the goblin king from attacking.

The rumbling sound of the ocean water faded, like when a wave comes upon shore and dies out. Something frigid enveloped his feet and buttocks. Hale started, but kept his eyes closed, waiting to be carried away. Instead, his pants grew wet and cold. He was sitting in water. His upper body dry as it ever was.

Hale opened his eyes and saw the water. It had stopped at his waist. Jed was climbing out of it, having been a few feet lower than him.

“What the hell happened?” Jed asked, coughing. “Why aren't we dead?”

“I have no idea,” Hale said, standing. Then it came to him. They must be at sea level. He couldn't believe it. If they'd been a little slower, they'd be dead. He cried out, relieved. Tears fell from his eyes and he lost control, unable to stop himself from bawling. Jed too was crying.

They'd done it. Stopped the goblin king and its army.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Hale and Jed walked out of the goblin tunnel soaking wet, but alive. The first thing he did was call Special Agent Howard and tell him what had happened. The story was too big to make disappear. It was turned into a terrorist plot to take over the island and wipe out all the residents with toxic chemicals. Hale, along with special government agents, had stopped the threat.

Hale retired from the force shortly thereafter. He'd seen too much. Roanoke Island was no longer a place where he could find solace. Everywhere he turned he saw the past. Death and violence. He moved to a small town in upstate New York called Crown Point and opened a bed and breakfast with a woman he met online. Before he left Roanoke Island, he made sure to write down everything that had occurred, making sure to add in what Jed had told him and details on how he destroyed the portal. He gave it all to Special Agent Howard who said he'd make sure the island would be ready next time the goblin king returned.

Jed Brewster kept drinking. He tried to stop. Even went to AA meetings. But always went back to the sauce. Three years after the Roanoke Terrorist Incident, he died after throwing up in his sleep and choking on his vomit.

Epilogue

The goblin Maggot sat in his cave and gnawed on the Pitbull's thigh. He thought back over the last few months, glad things had turned out the way they did.

After witnessing its goblin brethren get blown to pieces in the drunken man's backyard, the goblin named Maggot had hidden in the woods. He didn't run away. To do so would have encouraged the goblin king's wrath. So, he waited for the two men he was sent to kill to leave. He knew where they were going, so he went there and waited for them.

When the men arrived at the tunnel, the goblin king told Maggot to let them pass. The others would take care of them. The great demon wanted a goblin on the outside just in case the men decided to flee. Maggot would be there to cut them down.

So he waited.

And waited.

And then, he felt different. He no longer sensed the goblin king and knew the humans had succeeded in destroying the portal. He hadn't been inside the tunnel when the portal was destroyed, therefore keeping him safe from being teleported back to the goblin king's world.

He was free to do as he pleased now. Have his own private thoughts. Serve no master but himself. There was a whole human world to discover and discover it he would. He'd remained on the island long enough. It was time to leave. He was tired of living off forest critters, animals and people's pets. He craved human meat.

Sucking the Pitbull's hind leg clean, he tossed it away. Tomorrow, he'd go back for the owner now that her guard dog was out of the way, and then he'd head out into the world.

About the Author

David Bernstein is originally from a small town in Upstate New York called Salisbury Mills. He now resides in NYC and is hard at work on his next novel. He is the author of
The Unhinged
,
Witch Island
,
Amongst the Dead
,
Damaged Souls
,
The Tree Man
and
Apartment 7C
. David writes all kinds of horror, from hair-raising ghost stories to gore-filled slashers to adventure-filled apocalyptic tales of terror. He loves hearing from his readers.

You can reach him on Facebook:
www.facebook.com/david.bernstein.3
.

Visit him at his website:
davidbernsteinauthor.blogspot.com

or email him:
[email protected]

and follow him on Twitter:
@Bernsteinauthor
.

Look for these titles by David Bernstein

Now Available:

Amongst the Dead

Damaged Souls

The Tree Man

Witch Island

Apartment 7C

The Unhinged

Under the control of a madman...with no way out.

The Unhinged

© 2014 David Bernstein

Aaron Dupree has turned his life around. After serving six years in prison for his part in an armed robbery, he's released on parole. He's gotten a job and met a girl. Things are looking up...until he's pulled over for speeding—a parole violation—and blackmailed by the officer. He's forced to do terrible things to avoid going back to prison.

Aaron soon learns how truly deranged and sick the officer is as he's dragged under a tide of ever-escalating horror. He thinks he's seen the worst the cop has to offer until he meets
the man with the scar
, a vicious and twisted monster who lives only to deal pain.

Enjoy the following excerpt for
The Unhinged:

Kyle sat in his unmarked cruiser, the vehicle hidden behind thick brush, and upended the Styrofoam coffee cup, finishing the caffeinated beverage. He wanted more, wishing he'd filled a thermos before leaving his house. He didn't worry about having to piss; out in the sticks, he could get out of the car at any time and relieve himself without fear of being seen or recorded on a cell phone. He placed the empty cup in a plastic bag, always keeping his vehicle clean.

He'd been parked for over an hour now, and had hoped to nail a speeder this morning. The hiding spot he'd found was perfection, keeping his car hidden from on-coming cars in both directions. He'd had to cut back some of the overgrowth with hedge clippers and snap a few tree branches, but it was worth it. Now he had a new spot to sit and wait.

He knew cops didn't hang out or set up speed traps on most back roads, including Angola Road, the stretch of pavement too winding and out of the way. But he liked to make it one of
his
places. The low amount of traffic made the road idyllic for dealing with drivers, giving him the leeway he desired—no one watching, recording from afar with a cell phone.

Oh, how he hated cell phones.

He was still pissed about last night, having thought he'd found
the one
. But she turned out to be another bitch piece of trash. Another woman who didn't know her place.

By the time he'd arrived home, he was fuming and took his frustration out on his two youngest, Lilly and Jack. Tabitha, the oldest, knew better than to interfere when he slapped them around, which wasn't often. He owed them a beating anyway for some shit they'd done a week ago, but he felt bad for hitting Lilly so hard and making her nose bleed. Tabitha patched her sister up, and afterward Lilly and Jack came to him and apologized. He said he was sorry too, and they had hot chocolate and shot the rifle, a .22, in the back yard, something his children loved to do. He loved them very much. They deserved a mother.

Now, thinking about that bitch again, he swore and swatted the steering wheel.

He was tired of sitting around, bored and out of coffee. Ready to head to another location, he heard a car come around the bend. He smiled, ears perked like a dog's. A few seconds later, a car sped by. Based on observation alone, the guy wasn't going too fast, but as far as he was concerned, fast enough to warrant a stop.

He started the cruiser, put the car in Drive and tore out of his hiding spot and onto the road, placing his red strobe light on top of the dashboard. The car ahead swerved wildly, and then a small animal—maybe a rabbit—tumbled out from beneath it. He grinned, hoping the driver would be a little rattled, vulnerable after killing a cute little defenseless woodland creature. He flicked on the strobe light.

The Camaro moved to the right, as if to let him pass, but when he pulled behind it, the car slowed to a stop. Slipping on his sunglasses, he exited the car, straightened his uniform and approached the driver's side door.

“License and registration,” he said, resting his hand on the butt of his Glock.

“Morning, officer,” the driver said.

“Don't make me repeat myself, boy.”

Kyle could smell the fear coming off the young man, a mouth-watering aroma. And it wasn't simple jitters. The young man was hiding something. Drugs maybe?

The guy handed him a license and a registration card. Kyle scanned the pieces of paper. The license was newly issued. “Just get your license, Aaron?”

“A few months back.”

“Says here you're twenty-four years old. What'd you wait so long for?”

The young man frowned. “Had a little hiccup a while back. Didn't need a license where I was living.”

Kyle nodded, not fully understanding what the guy was talking about, but knew something was up. “I'll be right back,” he said, turning to head back to his cruiser.

“Officer, wait,” Aaron said.

Kyle stopped, felt a grin spread across his face. He killed it and turned around.

“Yes?”

“Was I speeding? I mean, is that why you pulled me over?”

Kyle flexed his cheek muscles and nudged the sunglasses further up the bridge of his nose. “
Were
you speeding?”

Aaron sighed. “Look, I want to be honest with you. I might've been going a little fast, a few miles an hour over the speed limit, but I swear that's all. I saw an animal—”

“Stop right there,” Kyle said, holding out a hand. “I don't give a damn what you say. There's no excuse, short of a medical emergency. You were speeding. Plain and simple. Period.” He paused for effect, then said, “You might've been able to avoid hitting that poor little critter, had you been obeying the speed limit.”

“I'd slowed by then,” Aaron said, his voice desperate, high in pitch. “Please, can't you give me a warning? My record's clean. I'm late for work. I had a flat tire this morning. I never speed. Honest.”

Kyle wondered why the guy was so worried. Insurance increase if he received another ticket? Or maybe he had so many that one more and he'd lose his license?

Kyle forced a smile. “You seem awfully worried about getting a ticket, or is it running your name you fear? You hiding something, Aaron? Drugs maybe?”

“No, sir. You can search my car.”

The guy was confident indicating the car was most likely clean.

“Have a warrant out for your arrest?”

“No, of course not.”

There was a slight pitch to his tone. Kyle was onto something, getting warmer. He stepped up to the door, leaned down. “Don't lie to me, boy. When I run your name I'll find out all I need to know.”

Aaron sighed, looking defeated. “Okay, okay. I'm on parole.”

Ding! Ding!
Kyle hit the jackpot. Found a man ripe for the taking. His pulse quickened at the news. He stood, rubbed his chin, then looked at the license again. The guy's name was Aaron Dupree. His home address was…He knew that address, it was that cunt-bitch's, Kelly. His heart fluttered. He nearly stumbled at the incredible fortune. He looked at Aaron, smiled. They lived at the same address. The guy was her son.

Kyle wanted to howl at the sky and beat his chest like a gorilla, but held himself in check.

“Is this your current address, Aaron?” Kyle asked, holding up the license.

“Yes.”

“Live alone?”

“No, with my mom.”

“Father?”

Aaron shook his head. “He's no longer with us.”

Kyle felt his manhood stiffen. This was indeed a great morning. He'd never fully believed in fate, good or bad fortune, but might have to reconsider.

“What did you do?” he asked, salivating for an answer.

“Sorry?” Aaron said, looking confused.

“What did you do to wind up in prison?”

“Officer, I'm really sorry for speeding. I promise I'll slow down. Really. I give you my word. I don't mean to be ungrateful for your kindness, but my boss is going to fire me if I'm late. I served six years in Sing Sing Correctional Facility before I was released early on account of my good behavior. I never killed anyone. I was young. Stupid. I've learned my lesson and only want to give back to society. Is there some kind of after school program or youth group that I can attend, you know talk to troubled teens or something?”

“That was quite a mouthful,” Kyle said. “Can you give me your word that you'll do something for me?”

“Yes.”

Kyle chuckled, nodding, then turned on the mean. “Your word don't mean shit to me. Got it? Now tell me what you did or I'll run your name and find out anyway.”

“I robbed a gas station,” Aaron said, rolling his eyes, looking defeated. “I had a few priors, disorderly conduct, drug possession, so the damn judge threw the book at me. Gave me 15 years.”

“Harsh,” Kyle said, pretending to feel bad for the guy.

Aaron's eyebrows shot up. “Yeah. I was only eighteen. High on speed when I did it, and I was just the driver. But I'm clean now, turned my life around.”

“Where's your partner in crime?”

Still inside. He got twenty-five to life.”

“Wow. Guess he had priors too, besides getting the wrong judge on the wrong day.”

“Tell me about it, but I learned my lesson. Totally turned my life around. My past is all behind me. I'm trying to start over. Got a job, nothing special, but it's honest work.”

Kyle shifted his weight. “You sound like a decent fellow, Aaron. A normal dude. And normal people speed once in a while, am I right?”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“But you're not quite normal, not yet. You're an ex-con, on parole. You're in a mobile prison cell. You've got to be extra careful, extra law-abiding.”

“I know,” Aaron said, closing his eyes for a second, shaking his head. “I should've just called and told my boss I was going to be late. Again, I'm truly sorry.”

Kyle stood erect, crossed his arms over his chest. He pursed his lips, pretending to be contemplating something. “You might say that I hold your future in my hands. A speeding ticket, let alone if I bring you in for disorderly conduct, would be a violation of your parole. Am I correct?”

“Disorderly conduct?” Aaron said, stiffening.

“Just saying…Am I right?”

“Yes, sir,” Aaron said, coldly.

“Tell you what I'm going to do, Aaron. You seem like a good guy, and I believe you when you say you've changed.” He uncrossed his arms, smiled. “So how about we forget about this whole thing and I let you get to work?”

“That would be terrific, officer. I'd be in your debt.”

Kyle grinned and proffered the license. When Aaron went to take it, he yanked it back.

“I do this for people, on occasion, you know. Help people out. People I feel are worthy. I like you, Aaron. So how about you agree to do a favor for me in exchange for letting you off with a warning?”

“Anything.”

“Give me your cell phone number so I can get in touch with you when I have something for you to do,” Kyle said, and pulled out his own cell phone.

“Okay, sure,” Aaron said, and rattled off the digits.

Kyle punched them into his phone and tried the number. He heard a phone ring from somewhere inside the Camaro. “Just making sure,” he said, winking, then put his phone away and handed back the license.

“Thank you, officer. I really appreciate this.”

“Before you leave,” Kyle said, “I want you to know how lucky you are, and when I call, I expect you to pick up. Do whatever it is I ask, understand?”

Kyle saw a hint of nervousness befall the young man—his Adam's apple moving up and down as he swallowed. “Um, yeah, of course.”

“And if you ignore me, tell me you're too busy, the next time I pull you over, I'll find one of these on you.” Kyle held up a small baggie filled with white powder. It was only flour, but that was his secret.

Aaron's eyes widened as the color drained from his face.

“Do we have an understanding?”

Aaron nodded his head, his eyes not seeming to be focused on anything.

Kyle shoved the baggie back into his pocket. He smiled, patted Aaron on his shoulder. “Relax, son. It won't come to that, unless you disappoint me.” He took a step back. “You get going now, wouldn't want you to be late for work.”

Aaron looked at him, like a dog afraid of its abusive owner, then started the car and pulled away.