The Wilds

KIT TINSLEY

Edited by Jackie DeBella

Cover Design by Brian Tinsley

Author Photograpy by Dead Pixels Photography

Copyright © 2013 Kit Tinsley

All rights reserved.

Amazon Reviews of BENEATH

‘A very enjoyable read and a real "page turner"...or should that be "page tapper"

By
Mr. Michael J. Heffernan

‘Absolutely fantastic debut from Kit Tinsley! Great writing style, along with an imaginative and scary story line equals a book that you just cannot put down.’

By
Tishtosh

‘Really well written and scarily believable! Lots of details mean you become completely engrossed.’

By
Toyah Blackburn

‘I was truly afraid... I'm hooked hope to read more from this author.’

By 
Puddin

Amazon Reviews of DARK COUNTY

‘This is truly an excellent collection; and not even as a first collection. These are the tales that are helping recapture the true, unadulterated spirit of horror.’

By
Kiki Kowalski

‘I don't like short stories...well not until I bought this book... Quickly becoming one of my favourite authors.’

By
Carole.C

‘Dark County is a collection of ten horror stories set in Lincolnshire and what a collection of stories it is...incredibly well written and each managed to have a little twist in the tale that gave a little surprise, making them even more memorable. The writing is of a high quality...This is a superb collection of horror, one that I recommend to any fans of the genre.’

By M.
Brookes

Amazon Praise for Kit Tinsley

‘Kit Tinsley is what I would describe as the modern day Charles Dickens of horror’

By 
dwanedibley

‘Move over Mr King - a good English contender for your throne.’

By
Ainslie

‘Kit Tinsley has an amazing way of writing that captures you and does not let you go till well after the last page.’

By 
Debbie

‘Up there with Shaun Hutson and Stephen King.’

By 
Adrian Young

This book is about families torn apart

So I would like to dedicate to one who

are back together

For

Chris Clark

and his girls

Isla and Lola

The car headed down the country lane, not at a ridiculous speed, but one that showed the driver knew the road well. The driver in question was Phil Morgan, thirty-two years old, divorced, and back living with his mother. Phil was not at all resentful for the way his life had turned out, though; regret was just not in his makeup. He was an eternal optimist, affable almost to the point of becoming a pushover. When Ruth had ended their three year marriage and seven year relationship, he had merely accepted it. There had been no arguments, no tears, just the agreement that they had grown apart and that Ruth had greater ambitions than Phil seemed capable of.

He felt he had a reasonable job selling insurance to farmers. He didn’t see the need to strive for more. He was comfortable. Ruth, though, wanted excitement and adventure. She wanted to get as far away from Lincolnshire as she could. In a lot of ways, Phil always thought she had chosen the wrong Morgan; his brother Karl was the ambitious one. Karl had left here as soon as he could, first to university in Birmingham to study marketing and then to London after he graduated. Karl now worked for one of the big advertising agencies in the country’s capital. It was an entry level position, yes, but he knew that Karl’s drive and determination would soon have him climbing the company ladder, headed all the way for the top.

Again, Phil did not resent his brother’s success; in fact, he was incredibly proud of his little brother. Karl and he were just cut from different cloth. Karl was more like their father, strong and determined, whereas he was far more like their mother. She, too, was happy with an easy life. Sometimes, though, he felt that Karl was jealous of how close Phil and their mother were. Not in a way that he ever voiced, or that manifested itself in the form of bitterness. There was just a look in Karl’s eyes occasionally, like he felt an outsider in his own family. Phil would always do what he could to try and include his brother, but perhaps Karl felt like an outsider wherever he went. It was true that he hadn’t seemed anymore at home in London when Phil visited him.

The engine began to splutter, stirring Phil from his thoughts. Something was wrong. He just managed to steer the car off of the road, and onto the relative safety of a little layby, when the car coughed its last, sputtering breath.

‘Shit,’ Phil said to himself.

He turned the key in the ignition, but all that happened was the whirring of the starter motor. He thought he had run out of fuel, again. There was a problem with the petrol gauge; it sometimes would not drop below quarter of a tank, even though the car was running on fumes. It was an intermittent problem, one that he thought had been fixed after last time. His mother had taken his car out today, and obviously had thought the level of petrol was fine, so she had not bothered to fill it up. Then this evening when heading out to his appointment with the old woman.

Phil got out of the car and walked around to the boot. He opened it and removed the fuel can he kept in there for emergencies such as this. He shook it, hoping he would hear the petrol sloshing around inside, even though he was fairly certain he would not. The can was empty, he had not refilled it after last time.

It was early autumn and there was a slight chill to the breeze, but it was bearable. There were no garages between here and Darton. It would take him forty-five minutes to walk there and the same back, but he supposed he had no option. He looked at his watch. It was nine thirty at night; he would not get back to the car until at least eleven o’clock. He would just be knackered all day at work tomorrow.

He set off into the darkness ahead. This road led all the way into town, then he would have to cross half of town to get to the Tesco garage. He didn’t mind too much, though, he had always enjoyed walking. He often used to drive up to the marshes and then wander the banks for hours, just him and his thoughts.

A few miles down the road, he figured that his mother would probably be worrying about him. He had said he would not be home late, but now that looked set to change. He supposed that he should call her, just to put her mind at rest.

His mother answered on the third ring, as she always did.

‘Hello,’ she said on the other end of the line.

‘Hi, Mum,’ Phil said as he carried on walking. ‘The car’s run out of fuel again, so I’ll be late back tonight.’

‘It had quarter of a tank in this afternoon,’ she said, sounding confused.

‘I know. I think the gauge is broken again, it seems to get stuck there,’ he said.

‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘If I’d have known, I would have put some more petrol in.’

‘It’s okay, Mum, you weren’t to know,’ he said. ‘Anyway, you know I like a good walk.’

She laughed on the other end of the phone.

‘That’s true,’ she said. ‘I’ll make you up a sandwich to eat when you get back.’

‘Thanks, see you later,’ he said.

She said goodnight and he hung up and returned the phone to the pocket of his jacket. He continued walking. There was no path, so he walked along the grassy verge, against the flow of traffic so that he could see any cars coming towards him. This was not a problem, though, the road was completely deserted. Maltham Lane was the same most nights. During the day there would be a steady flow of traffic down the road, but at night it was rare to see anyone else on the winding road.

There was a sound off to the side of him in the long grass, a rustling of movement. It was at his side and matching his pace. He knew that there was a lot of wildlife down this road; a few years ago he was constantly seeing deer running across in front of his car. This didn’t happen as much lately, though. He supposed the deer must have moved on.

Phil stopped to try and peer into the grass and see what kind of animal it was. The sound stopped. He strained, but could not see a thing. It was just too dark out there. The sky had clouded over, and moonlight was sparse. When he started walking again, the sound continued, closer now, and still matching his speed. The sound made him feel a little uneasy, but he did not know why. Most wildlife he knew of would avoid contact with humans at all cost, not follow them. He sped up a little, hoping that the heavier sound of his footfalls might scare it off. He worried that perhaps it was a badger; he had heard that they could be vicious when riled. As he quickened his pace, so, too, did whatever was in the long grass. He stopped again, hoping that the animal would scurry on its way; however, the sound of rustling ceased the moment he stood still.

A new thought entered his mind, was someone trying to mess with him? Was someone out there in the long grass, just out of his sight? They would have to be quite short, though, long as the grass was, it only came up to Phil’s chest. ‘Kids perhaps?’ he thought to himself. Yet he knew this, too, was a foolish notion. What would a child be doing messing around in the fields at this time of night? “Perhaps someone is crawling, following you?” a voice inside his head said. The thought made him shiver a little.

‘Hello?’ he called out to the long grass.

The moment the word had escaped his lips he felt stupid. Of course there was no one crawling through the long grass; it’s just an animal and its following you because it’s curious. He continued walking, again at a more rapid pace, hoping the animal would tire of following him. The sound of rustling continued, though, still at his side at all times. In daylight he would have been fine, but in the darkness he found himself feeling more and more uncomfortable with each passing second.

Enough was enough, he stopped again and reached into his pocket. Pulling out his phone, he turned on it’s in built torch. He shone the bright white LED beam across the long grass at the side of him, slowly scanning from side to side, peering in to see if he could make out what the animal was. At first he saw nothing, then on his second pass with the torch he saw them, the reflection from two wide and bright eyes, their gaze fixed upon him. They were milky like cataracts, yet they seemed to glow amber in the light of the beam. From the size and spacing of the eyes he knew it was too big to be a badger or a fox; this was something else entirely.

‘What the hell?’ Phil said to himself, still shining the beam onto the eyes, their gaze unblinking. He could see nothing else of the animal, just the eyes, the rest of it hidden by shadow.

A deep growl came from the long grass, a sound that Phil had never heard before, and one that he could have happily lived out his days not ever hearing.

‘Sod this,’ Phil said and turned around and began running back towards the car. The creature remained in the long grass, but it, too, set about running. The rustle of the grass grew louder the quicker it moved. He could see his car up ahead, no more than fifty yards away now. It was an old banger that was well on its last legs, but he had never been more pleased to see it in his life. He knew that it would not start, but at least he would be able to get inside and be safe from whatever it was, then he could call the police and tell them that there was a wild dog on the loose. Grabbing his keys from his pocket, he held them tight in his hand, remembering he had locked the door. The car didn’t have a remote for unlocking it. He would have to stop and use the key, turning his back on the long grass. This thought terrified him; surely that would be the perfect time for this dog or whatever it was to pounce. It was still a little way behind him, but not far enough. He reached the car and stopped.

It had nearly caught up with him when he threw the fuel can into the grass. It was one of the old style metal type; he hoped that the sound of it or being hit by it would put the animal off the chase. The can flew off into the grass and Phil heard the sound of it making contact with something and then a yelp of pain. The rustling stopped. Phil wasted no time in turning to the car and unlocking the door. He jumped in and slammed the door shut behind him.

Breathless, he sat there for a few moments with his head tilted back onto the head rest. As his breathing and pulse began to settle back to their more standard rhythm, he began to laugh to himself, suddenly feeling silly for the fear that had got hold of him. He had been running away from, at very worst, someone’s dog that had got loose and run into the fields to play. It had probably even thought he had been playing; that was why it had chased him. Suddenly he felt guilty for throwing the fuel can at it. What if had just been playing? What if he had injured it?

He was considering getting out to check on the animal when he saw a movement in the darkness outside from the corner of his eye. Before he could turn his head to investigate further, there was a deafening thud, and a smash of glass. The driver’s door of his car buckled inward as though he had just been hit by another car. Phil was thrown across the car into the passenger side by the force of the impact. The shattered window sprayed shards of glass over him. Those that hit his face scratched his skin and little lines of blood began to trickle. He screamed as a second thud came and the car door buckled even more. The thing, the animal, was attacking his car.

Thinking fast, Phil pulled on the handle that opened the passenger door. The position he was in from flying across the car meant he fell straight out onto the road. He heard another thud on the car. The animal had not yet noticed that he had gotten out. He needed a plan fast; if he headed up either side of the road it was pretty safe to assume the animal would see him and give chase. He needed to disappear before it figured out that he wasn’t in the car anymore.

He ran to the other side of the road, into another field of long grass. Getting down to his knees, he crawled and kept crawling as fast as he could, until he was deep into the field. The sound of crashing against metal and smashing glass continued in the distance. Looking around, he saw a tree not far to his right. He had not climbed a tree for many years, but he was sure that he would be safer up there. Rising to his feet, he looked back towards his car. The sound of smashing had stopped. The long grass between him and the road was moving; something was heading towards him very fast. Phil sprinted for the tree. As he reached it, he leapt into the air and grabbed the highest branch he could. He pulled himself up and climbed about halfway up the tree. He was at least fifteen feet up, surely that would be safe enough?

There was a circular patch of shorter grass around the base of the tree, about five feet in diameter. The creature did not step out of the long grass, but he could see from the wave like movement within the field, that it was right on the edge, circling the tree, waiting for him.

Reaching into his pocket he pulled out his phone. He prayed to a God he had not prayed to since he was a child that he had a signal. As he looked at the glow of the phone’s screen he saw he had three bars. He quickly punched in the number nine three times and then hit the dial button.

‘What service please?’ a voice said on the other end.

‘Police,’ Phil said loudly. There was a growl from below in response.

There was a quick beeping sound as he was passed to the right service, and then a female voice spoke.

‘You’re through to the police, what is the nature of the emergency?’ she said.

‘There’s something chasing me!’ Phil said.

‘Someone is chasing you? Do you know them?’ the woman said.

‘No,’ Phil said, ‘not someone, something! Like a big animal.’

‘You do know it’s an offense to make prank calls, don’t you, sir? I can see your phone number on my screen,’ the woman said as though chastising him.

‘This isn’t a bloody prank!’ Phil screamed into the phone. ‘It’s right here. Help me.’

‘Where are y....’ the woman started to say, and then the phone went dead. Phil looked at it; the screen was dark. His battery had died.

‘No, no, no!’ he said, thumping his hand onto the branch he sat on in sheer frustration. There was a creak, followed by a snapping sound, then the branch and Phil fell hurtling to the ground. Pain tore through him as his hip connected with the hard ground. Part of the snapped end of the branch gouged into his other leg. He yelled out in pain. Then he heard the growl again. It charged at him. Pain gave way to fear. When it was on top of him, its ragged teeth tearing at his flesh, he felt agony. There was no way he could have predicted what had been following him; it was worse than he could ever have imagined.