Page 13 of Hollow Forest

The disposable gloves from work came in handy. There shouldn’t be any other physical evidence in the vehicle, and since I’d braided my hair back with Vaseline, it was highly probable I hadn’t left any DNA.

I took a deep breath, enjoying the way adrenaline rushed through me. I hadn’t felt the night cold. Not even a little! Adjusting the revolver in my waistband, I squatted and shoved the lump into the hole.

The muffled cry was one of pure panic.

Sure, the drop probably hurt him, but he was already in pain from the nasty blow to the head I’d given him when we made it to the forest. I didn’t feel the least bit sorry about that.

And nothing about this incident was going to haunt me.

The only regret was that it had taken me so long after noticing the problem to do something about the pest. That couldn’t be helped though. It was going to be better from here on out. As of tonight, Amy was free. I wished I could break the good news to her myself, but she would figure it out in time.

Standing back up, I began to scoop dirt back into the hole. A burst of elation spiked my blood after a thin layer of dirt covered the twitching form.

“I’ll admit, being buried alive isn’t the way I would ever want to go,” I panted.

My words were puffs of condensation. They danced through the light of the camping lantern as I continued my work. The burn that settled in my muscles didn’t stop the mechanical movements.

Stab the shovel into dirt. Scoop the load. Lift…and drop.

A scream of desperation bloomed from the earth.

Both the duct tape and the inches of dirt muted the blast.

“Yep, it sucks,” I agreed pleasantly. “But so does the bruise you left on her face.”

A cheerful tune rattled in my mind. I began to hum. When a good four feet of dirt filled the hole halfway, I began to sing softly to myself. Was it macabre that the song was a children’s rhyme? Probably. But by the time I panted the last verse about five little pumpkins, I was into the music.

A howl of wind shot through the trees.

I smiled. “Oh, this feels good.”

Breathing hard, I scraped the dirt flat. Back here, the trees were a hollowed vault, a sepulcher filled with shadows and the rich scent of decay that fed the green tomb. Unlike a mausoleum built by pious men, nature was a living, breathing haunt. It was easier to feel the supernatural veil, to pray to a deity walking the other side out here. As I worked, a pungent silence shivered through the night. My thoughts turned to the bigger picture, the sole purpose of my existence. This forest would make the perfect spot to bury the spoilt Ferretti bastard. No one would find his body. I paused to look around. Anticipation for the final notch to my pillar of revenge slithered through my veins.

There. That gnarled oak that loomed menacingly to the left. Its thick limbs bowed in a welcoming hug. It would keep my secret. Ferretti’s body would rot, offering compost and nutrition to the hefty trunk.

“Hi, I’m Ophelia, and I have an offer to make you,” I breathed, wandering to the ancient sentry of the forest.

The limbs above my head rattled in greeting.

“Three years ago, my sister Desdemona was gang raped at a frat party.” Anger made my throat clench. “She called me, bawling, but still high from the party drugs. While we were on the phone, ssshe…ssshhheee….”

I placed my palm against the trunk, reliving the sounds of the car crash through the speaker.

Because her attackers were rich and the evidence was circumstantial, they’d walked. All six graduated and went to start their professional, affluent lives.

“I’m going to bring you the last body,” I whispered. “Will you keep my secret?”

The mighty oak thrummed with a violent energy that mirrored my own.

I patted the rough bark. “I knew I liked you. I’ll see you in a few weeks, my friend.”

Fixating on vengeance was the only thing that kept me going. The guilty had paid, all but one. I’d embraced my monstrous calling. I was devoid of humanity at this point, but what else was I supposed to do when the only family I had left had burned alive?

Stepping back to the lantern, I surveyed the now smoothed ground. While the earth was even, it was clear the area had been tampered with. Not that anyone would come way back here to look.

Maybe once I killed Ferretti, I would travel from town to town, killing the guilty until the law finally punished me for the crime of becoming an angel of vengeance.

I dragged some underbrush over, arranging it haphazardly to cover the fresh dirt. The remaining leaves couldn’t fall soon enough! A good bed of crimson that would decay to brown, a blanket of white this winter, and no one would ever know.