Headless (14 page)

CHAPTER XXV

     November 1
st
, 6:05 AM

     What few birds were left this time of year chirped softly off in the woods. The faded grass had morning dew resting on it, and the crisp Fall air was giving way heavily to winter as Katerina made her way down the seemingly never-ending road. She had been walking for hours. She knew that much. It only took a half mile from Sleepy Hollow down the main road to lose any trace of a storm.

     If it weren't for her tattered, filthy clothes, wounds, and exhaustion it would be nearly impossible to believe that anything at all had happened last night in such a close proximity. Even the smoke from the house that had caught on fire was long gone shortly after she started down the road. Katerina's teeth clattered together softly, as she hugged her rib cage. Each breath she took produced condensation in the air before her, as her skin grew pale in the cold morning weather.

     She still hadn't even fully dried from the previous night's events, as there was no heat and the sun was just rising over the tree line. Her hair was matted to her face and neck from mud and sweat, and her lips seemed dry and cracked. Kat coughed out heavily, as she struggled to keep her body moving, and producing any energy.

     “I can't believe I made it through that shit, just to die from hypothermia out here,” she sighed to herself as she continued down the road.

     For hours now she hadn't seen anyone. She assumed everyone was dead at this point. All of her friends, and the old lady at the very least. She had a sneaking suspicion that they weren't the Horseman's only victims that night, either. She pulled her cell phone from her pocket, and tried dialing.

     Still no signal.

     “Fuck this hell hole!” she screamed, spinning a one eighty and yelling back in the direction she came.

     Her voice echoed into nothingness. It was a quiet morning, even taking into consideration the sounds of nature. She tugs at her hair a moment, frustrated, and spikes the phone on the cracked pavement, shattering it. As soon as this happens, she gasps and kneels down trying to put the phone back together. That may have been the nail in her coffin and she realizes it immediately.

     “You're a special kind of dumb, Kat,” she mumbled to herself, holding the broken pieces of the phone in her hands.

     Her stomach growled audibly and she dropped the phone, grabbing her abdomen. The survival shows from television had already started playing in her head. Hunting squirrel, rabbit, snakes and alligators for survival. She knew at least one of those things wouldn't be available to her, but she'd gladly gnaw the head off a live snake if it meant eating something at the moment.

     She gazed along the tree line, hoping for a lemonade stand; a hot dog vendor. Shawarma sounded fantastic. Her hopes were momentarily raised when she saw what looked like a triple bacon cheeseburger dripping in cheddar cheese with a fried egg on top, only to have her dreams dashed when a second glance produced a very inedible pine cone in the same spot she had just looked. Exhaustion, hunger and dehydration were all playing tricks on her at this point.

     “I'm so hungry I'd eat Jackie's Meatloaf Surprise,” she laughed to herself, before her train of thought led her to miss her best friend dearly, and she had to fight back tears yet again.

     She sat back on her legs, as her upper body slumped. Whether it was the physical toll, the emotional or both, she was done. Her body was done. She sat there on her knees, sobbing intensely for friends she would never see again. A nightmare that nobody would ever believe. Who was she going to tell what happened? Who would ever believe her?

     She was going to spend the rest of her years in an asylum, not because she was crazy, but because others would think she was. And no story she had attempted to fabricate over the past several hours made any more sense than the last. Why should they? How can a lie be sane, when the truth is even more insane?

     The car approaching in the distance never registered in her mind. She was blocking everything in the world out, and just hoping to slip into that peaceful darkness at this point. It rumbled closer and closer, until it pulled to a stop next to her, the blue and reds on top igniting, and Sherriff Williams stepped out of the car, looking at her. She was a wreck. He walks around the front of the car to her, and squats down, resting a hand on her shoulder.

      “Dear God girl, what happened to you?” She breaks down leaning against him and bawling, as he pats the back of her head. “There, there. Come on, let's get you something to eat. Come on.”

      He stood up, and took her hand, helping her up and leading her to the passenger side of the vehicle.

     Katerina stared blankly out of the passenger window, as the trees passed by in a blur. Whether she was even conscious or just unaware, Sheriff Williams didn't know, nor really care. She was still alive. He could tell by her chest moving in and out as he snuck a peek down her torn, dirty shirt out of the corner of his eye. The old man clears his throat, and puts his attention back on the road.

     “So are you going to fill me in on what happened to you girl?”

     “You wouldn't believe me if I told you,” she whispered, not moving an inch.

     “You're one of them kids that was at the gas station yesterday, aren't you?”

     “Yeah.”

     “Where are the other kids at?” he asked. After a couple moments of her continuing to stare blankly out of the window, he insisted a bit more strongly. “The others that were with you, girl. Where are they?”

     She continued to stare out the window.

     “Hey! I'm talking to you!” he raised his voice, grabbing her by the collar, and turning her towards him.

     “THEY'RE DEAD!” she screamed back at him.

     He let off the gas pedal a bit, as he made eye contact with her. They were still in the middle of nowhere. He was highly unlikely to hit anything. He cleared his throat, and let her go. She slid a bit closer to the passenger door, staring at him out of the corner of her eye, as she hugged herself tightly.

     “I'm sorry, I got a bit frustrated,” he whispered, turning his attention back to the road.

     She gave him a second glance, then looked back out of the passenger window. There was something off about the way he spoke. The way he treated people. She noticed it at the gas station yesterday, but didn't think twice on it. She had, however, had time to realize that the old lady that ran the gas station seemed at least somewhat familiar with the demonic monster that tried to kill her last night. Maybe not familiar, that was the wrong word, but she also wasn't shocked by the fact that a shotgun blast didn't kill the thing.

     “It killed them, didn't it?” She looked over at the Sheriff, not sure she had heard him right. “The Horseman, you saw it last night didn't you?”

     “I – I don't know what you're talking about,” she whispered, completely stunned, but trying not to show it.

     “Nobody's ever gotten out of old Sleepy Hollow alive once the Horseman came after 'em. You're either very tough, or very lucky. How'd you do it?”

     She didn't notice the patrol car pulling to a stop.

     “I cut it's head off.”

     “The Horseman doesn't have a head. Not anymore.”

     “It took my friend's. I took it back.”

     “The Horseman claimed a new head, huh? They thought that might happen. Your friend must have put up a hell of a fight.” He nodded, putting the car in park.

     “Who thought?” She inquired, confused.

     “Never you mind about that. We're here,” the Sheriff nodded, putting the vehicle in park.

     She looked around, while he climbed out of the car. They were still in the middle of nowhere. Where was he planning on getting food out here? She was confused by this sudden turn of events, still trying to process the fact that the Sheriff somehow knew about what was going on back at Sleepy Hollow. He opened her door, and she felt his grip pull at her hair, as he yanked her from the car. The old man was stronger than he looked.

     “What are you doing!?” She screamed out, as she fell to the ground, and tried to dig her heels into the ground.

     She felt bushes and tree branches dig at her, as he drug her along, her hair ripping and pulling at her scalp. Katerina cried out, but she was simply too exhausted to put up much of a fight. When they got far enough away into the trees, the old Sheriff let go of her hair, and pulled his pistol from his holster cocking the gun. She let go of her hair, tears filling her eyes, and put up her hands, crying.

     “Please. I don't understand!” she whimpered.

     “Nobody gets out of there alive, girl. Why do you think I sent you and your friends down that way? The Horseman is owed his body count, as recompense for what the town did. What our ancestors did. It's unfortunate Old Mr. Jenkins ended up in there, but – he was senile and had old timers anyways. Then of course there was my deputy. But he didn't have anyone close, so no real loss there. And your foolish college friends. I'd say that's enough to send the Horseman back to hell content for another year.”

     She couldn't believe what he was saying. The locals knew, and they hid it. Even offered up victims. What sort of sick fucks were these, that they would send a bunch of kids to die?

     “Just one thing I'm not sure on, is how you actually stopped the thing? It was already headless, so how did cutting off your friend's head help?”

     “I didn't just cut its head off. I dropped a fucking van on it.” She swore defiantly, turning to look at the old Sherriff. If she was going to go out, she was going to go out with her head held high. “I did what the rest of you couldn't do. I killed the Headless Horseman.”

     The gunshot rang out through the trees. She never had a chance to close her eyes as skull, cartilage, brain and blood splatter across the forest floor. All of that fighting; all the running; the surviving. And she was gunned down by a cop, on her knees, like an animal.

After a few moments pass, the Sheriff emerges from the tree line, back towards his car. He pulls a flask from his pocket, and takes a long drink, before reaching in the passenger side door, and pulling out the CB mic.

     “Judd? Judd, you out there? It's Sheriff Williams.”

     No answer.

     “Judd, you fuck, get out of bed, and answer the damn radio, I know you leave the thing on!”

     “Yeah, yeah, what is it, Sheriff?”

     “I want you to get down to the bridge. Seems we've got a mess to clean up from last night. I'll meet you down there in about an hour, alright?”

     “You got it, Sheriff.”

     The old man hung up the CB and closed the passenger door. He took one more look back in the woods where he left Kat's body. He takes one more swig from the flask, and walks around getting in the patrol car and driving off.

CHAPTER XXVI

     Judd's truck flew down the road, billowing up dirt as it sped along. He threw back a small bottle of whiskey, as he swerved and laughed at the dangerous driving habits. The damn errand boy, that's all he was. Well, if he had to clean up this town's mess every year, he was certainly going to have a good time doing it.

     “Sheriff thinks ol' Judd's just a little bitch. No sir! No sir, I'm not!” Judd yells to himself in the hand mirror he has duck taped to the window to replace what at one point, was his rearview mirror. “Every year it's the same shit. Hey Judd, go on down and clean up these college kids' cars; grab this rental van that some dumb family was driving on their weekend vacation. When's Judd get a vacation!?”

     The truck swerved. A squirrel sitting at the edge of the road never saw it coming, as the large tires of the tow truck bounced over it, and Judd hooted and hollered out of the driver's side window, raising his bottle of whiskey to the blood stain he had left on the edge of the road. His black, yellow, and missing teeth shown widely as the squirrel's sacrifice brought a glimmer of pleasure to his otherwise dull day.

     When Halloween had passed, it always seemed like winter moved in automatically. Everything went from the vibrant fall colors just the day before, to a frigid, grey morning. Everything had lost its luster, and the warmth of the year seemed truly gone. One would regularly argue this started to happen by Labor Day on the East Coast. The alcohol in his system didn't help, as not only was everything losing its color, but seemed extra blurry as well.

     “Really need to buy some damn glasses,” Judd grumbles, shaking his head and smacking himself in the temple, repeatedly.

     He flies past the old Sleepy Hollow sign, leaving it in the dust.

     The truck rolled to a stop at what was left of the bridge to the old town. The transmission cranked into park, and Judd took one more swig from his bottle of whiskey, before throwing it in the passenger seat. He climbs out of the truck and looks back at the turn off for the road, noting the cop car. Nobody was going to come around asking about an empty cop car, that was for certain.

     He turned his attention to Ray's car, and the old beater that Mrs. Jenkins' must have drove up from the gas station. So Sheriff Williams told her what happened to Old Mr. Jenkins, after all? Poor lady. If she wound up over the bridge, he knew for sure she wasn't walking around anymore, either. Maybe he'd nix the tow truck business and take over the gas station. They'd need someone for that job now.

     “Damn old folks have been around here for decades and still don't know well enough to keep their asses on this side of the bridge,” Judd shook his head, turning his attention to the bridge itself.

     Splintered wood hangs from the edges, as more of the old construct had fallen throughout the night. Judd strolls to the ledge, overlooking the ravine, and peers over it. The van sits at the bottom, with wood covering it. Various sex toys lie scattered around the accident. Caleb's severed arm lays on the roof of the van. The massive mess is so loud, it sits half way out of the water, as it rushes around.

     “Damn. The Horseman had a rough go of this one,” Judd whispers, squatting down to get a better look.

     He spots the rest of Caleb's body tangled up in roots along the wall. This was a mess unlike anything he'd ever seen. The van fell through the bridge, obviously, but was the fat fuck that hung there dismembered the one who almost survived? Did the Horseman almost miss one and the bridge itself got him? Hard to call in this mess, and of course the Sheriff wouldn't tell anyone anything, even if he knew.

     “Twenty some-odd years of cleaning this shit up, and it ain't never been this bad,” Judd notes to himself, and pulls a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, standing upright, and lights one, taking a long drag. “How the hell am I supposed to get that fucking thing out of this hole? Stick it up my ass and climb out on the vines?”

     Judd makes his way back to the tow truck, and backs it up to Ray's car. He'd deal with cleaning up the mess in the ravine after he got these other cars out of here. He slammed the truck door shut, and walks back to the sling, lowering it. A loud banging echoes through the air, even over the sound of the sling, and he stops, looking around.

     “The fuck?”

     He notices it coming from the ravine, and makes his way to the edge of it slowly, peering down into the large gap. The back door flies off the van, and the Horseman steps out, carrying Dougie's head. It raises the head to his shoulders and again the black ooze that makes up it's form seeps around the neck, and the lifeless head twitches to some sort of life. The Hessian blinks a couple times, and cracks his neck before looking around. Judd watches as the Horseman finds his axe and lifts it up, examining it.

     “You have got to be fucking kidding me,” Judd groans in disbelief.

     To his knowledge, none of the townsfolk had ever seen the Horseman and lived to tell about it. And that's when he noticed the mercenary was glaring up at him. Judd's eyes go wide, before he begins laughing. The Horseman can't leave Sleepy Hollow. Everyone knew that. As soon as you crossed the bridge you were safe. Judd dances a little jig, before throwing up two middle fingers directed at the Horseman.

     “Sucks to be you, demon fucker! You can't touch me!”

     As the drunk tow truck operator laughed at the monster stuck down in the water, he never noticed the axe spinning through the air. He did, however, know when the weapon stuck between his eyes.

     His eyes cross as he looks at the blade stuck in his skull. He reaches up, and grabs the handle, falling forward down the ravine. His body cracks, and crunches against the ground below. The Horseman wades to Judd's body, grabbing the handle of the axe, and ripping it from the dead worker's skull. He then turns his attention back towards the wall on the Sleepy Hollow side, and wades over to it, putting its axe at his waist, grabbing a handful of vines, and pulling itself up.

     For two centuries the Horseman would have had to wait three-hundred and sixty-four more days to come out to play again. And as the Horseman moved inch by inch up the wall, the dark clouds rolled in. Lightning crashing in the distance.

THE END.