Sacred is Nothing

By PJ Garske

Welcome to Sacred.
A once thriving town, now slumped in deep decline amidst the hottest summer seen for fourteen years.
As another day of the heat-wave draws painfully to a close, four teenage friends excitedly prepare for the last sleepover of the summer.
As they relax in the old vintage trailer that houses them from the night, a dare to venture into the darkness of the town spirals into a deadly and horrifying chase for survival.
Through perilous woodland harbouring secrets long forgotten to the abandoned factory that once provided prosperity for the town, their journey will know no bounds as tragedy unites and boys become men.
Before this night is out, mysteries from the past, stalking figures in the present and a future in jeopardy for all of Sacred will be laid bare.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: May 30, 2014
• ISBN: 9781291883763

Book preview

Sacred is Nothing

Sacred is Nothing by PJ Garske

Copyright http://img.bhs4.com/32/F/32FECD3061546EF9E36343FA61D814177CC304D8_large.jpg 2014 PJGarske all rights reserved

ISBN 978-1-291-88376-3

Contents

August 14th  16:14

16:26

16:42

16:51

17:00

17:11

17:28

17:48

18:11

19:27

20:13

21:07

22:13

22:49

23:14

23:31

23:34

23:52

00:17

00:43

01:09

01:29

01:52

02:18

August 25th 07:13

08:31

For Amy.

August 14th 16:14

The intoxicating humidity of the afternoon was becoming too much to bear.  It was too hot and too much had happened. 

As the boys gazed across the sprawling graveyard, the grey stone of the church flickered in the piercing waves of heat that enveloped it. 

It was hot, the kind of baking summer heat that drained the body and mind like a source of enigmatic energy.

Bobby leapt up from the warm wood of the bench with an accustomed enthusiasm. 

He reached inside his pocket and took out his last cigarette.  Carefully placing it between his moist sweaty lips and clamping it between them a little harder than normal, he took out his lighter and then crushed the empty packet and tossed it aside.  He rolled his thumb smoothly over the spark wheel and nudged his head toward the flame.  The tobacco fizzed and crackled as it effortlessly ignited.

‘This town is so boring’, he spat between a cloud of smoke and a sarcastically aggressive manner that was somewhat his trademark. 

The others chose to ignore his observation.  Bobby swung his leg out and kicked hard through the crumpled cigarette packet, so hard they all heard something in his leg click as it snapped back.  A moments discomfort in his face was quickly hidden as he sucked furiously on his cigarette.

As he watched Bobby, Paul gnawed anxiously on his lip, pulling up his shirt to mop his brow.  Paul was resting uneasily against his bike that lay on the grass.  He released his lip from his overbite and grimaced as he wriggled his back against the hot steel frame of his cycle, searching for a more comfortable position. 

The previous half an hour or so had been uneventful enough to make Bobby restless.  There had been a power outage all through town for the past couple of hours, something to do with the heat they had been told.

They hadn’t done much in those twenty minutes or so but to take a well-earned rest from the heat and discuss preparations for the night that lay ahead. 

Devlin sat stony faced on one end of the bench inconspicuously monitoring Bobby whilst fiddling with his watch.

The church bench was relatively new with a bronze plaque screwed onto the middle proclaiming its dedication to someone who had died the previous year.  More importantly it sat under a large old oak that provided a generous patch of shade from what was a scorching summer sun.

Mikey sat on his bike slowly moving back and forth the matter of a few inches.  His torso was hunched over the handlebars as he moved the cap of his water bottle between his thumb and index finger.  He reached his hand around his back and awkwardly pulled his damp t-shirt away from his skin. 

A minute or so of silence passed.  Bobby’s already short attention span was being stretched dangerously to its limit, his body appeared jittery as he paced up and down the distance of the bench. 

Mikey examined him for a moment, scanning his body language and studying his eyes briefly before turning away so he wasn’t noticed.  One fist was being sporadically clenched like he had some sort of imaginary stress ball in his hand or a similar instrument to relieve his boredom.  His eyes had a vacant and slightly disturbed look.  Something was going through his mind.

Mikey had seen enough to sense that this was exactly the sort of moment when Bobby would do something crazy.  He had come to detect these moments with a near forensic accuracy.  It was something he couldn’t explain, just a feeling in his bones when Bobby was ready to ‘go off’. That’s how the others referred to it and upon recognising that the moment was rapidly approaching, he looked at his watch and decided it was about time to make his way home.   

Bobby stood in the middle of the dusty clay footpath that ran the length of the churchyard; it had become soft from the heat and cushioned Bobby as he shifted his weight to his toes, rocking back and forth.  He kicked the floor and a cloud of orange dust sat still in the air for a moment before settling back onto the clay.

In the hazy distance he spied a rough old man approaching on a bicycle.  Out of nothing more than pure petulance he stood firm, his whole body stiffened and his back straightened, blocking his path. 

He knew the old man would have cycle around him as the pathway was barely wide enough for two people to pass each other. 

From that moment that was his goal, the sole purpose of his stunt and any attempt to persuade him to give way would be futile but it didn’t stop Mikey trying.

‘Move out the way Bobby’.  He asked wearily knowing his polite request would fall on deaf ears.

Bobby shook his head as he ran his hand through the side of his damp short hair.  He was prone to doing these kinds of things.  Mikey suspected it wasn’t to impress his friends through a display of bravado nor was it out of any deep-seeded evil that lied within him.  It was just merely to satisfy his twisted and misguided sense of amusement, nothing more and nothing less.  For him it would be nothing short of hilarious, for the others it was uncomfortable and embarrassing. 

The others struggled to understand the way he felt compelled to act sometimes but had come to expect it and to a reluctant extent embrace it as part of his questionable charm and character.  Bobby had been after all an inexplicable and unpredictable force of nature for the last seven or eight of all his fourteen years.  He was who he was and he made no attempt to hide it.

As the old man rode closer Bobby stood intrepidly, oblivious and ignorant to the rickety noise of the old man’s clunky cycle that was hurtling toward him. 

The rest of the boys sat uneasy, not just with the heat but with the sense of an impending confrontation.  They all feared what was coming and they didn’t want any trouble, it was too hot and they were too tired.

‘What are you doing Bobby, what’s the point?’  Mikey asked grudgingly as if he didn’t care to hear the answer.

‘No point, just humouring myself.  What else is there to do?’  Bobby replied unrepentantly, throwing Mikey an assured look of innocence as if to justify his actions.

‘Shouldn’t be cycling in a graveyard anyhow, it’s disrespectful’.

Mikey shook his head with a defeated look of disbelief in the irony of Bobby’s statement but allowed himself a smile all the same.

He looked over to Devlin as if to say ‘you try’ but Devlin had long since given up any attempts to try and talk sense to him.  Mikey turned away in disappointment as the others looked on.

‘You’re a dick Bobby; I hope he knocks you down flat’.  Devlin was in no mood to beat around the bush or even attempt to try and reason with him. 

Devlin didn’t share Mikey’s unshakable faith in that beneath these random acts of stupidity was a reasonable human being.  He looked smugly over at Mikey with a haughtily shake of his head and a roll of his eyes.  Mikey made no gesture in response to him.

Mikey would always strive to see the best in Bobby and people in general.  Devlin conversely chose to see only the worst.  He had a guarded and suspicious nature particularly when it came to Bobby and his contemptuous attitude toward him had just been given greater justification.  This pissed Mikey off because no matter what he would always try to fight Bobby’s corner but incidents like this just made it that much harder to argue his case.

Mikey raised his hand to cover his eye, and then moved it slowly down his face, culminating his movement in a shake of the head.

‘He’ll move’.  Bobby replied quietly with a calm self-assurance.

‘Bullshit, I’ve got my money on the old fella’.  Devlin sniggered and managed to raise a tense chuckle among the others.  

Bobby chose to ignore him but threw him a quick scornful glance.

The old man wobbled unsteadily as he advanced hard and fast.  Bobby casually pulled a long hard drag on his cigarette, tilted his head and slowly blew a dense swirl of smoke toward the scorching sky.  Despite Bobby’s faults Mikey almost admired his collective demeanour in the face of what was fast approaching danger.  He seemed fearless and unrepentant to any consequence of his actions.

Bobby stood, rooted to the spot and guarding his territory in a predatory sense of what had become in his mind a deadly game of chicken.  His unshakeable animalistic pride meant there was no backing out, as ridiculous as it was to the others.  He jerked his head to one side, his neck clicking loudly as he fixed himself on the looming mass of the old man and his cycle.

The old man had seemed to build his speed, helped by the slight downward gradient of the churchyard path but to the boys it was if he was moving in an agonising slow-motion. 

Mikey stood up to get a better look at the dark figure approaching, raising his hand to his brow to guard his eyes from the sun.

Paul slid backwards and closed his eyes as if fearfully sheltering himself from some impending carnage.

The old man’s legs pumped the pedals with a purposeful haste while his face showed the drain of the frenzied temperature.  His body bobbed up and down like a buoy in a rough sea. 

Mikey squinted to pull focus on Bobby’s opponent.  He best-guessed he must have been the wrong side of sixty at least.  He wore an old brown suede coat, more befitting for winter and a tatty fedora hat. 

As his face came into focus Mikey’s guess looked more informed than educated.  The old man looked as if he was riding from the devil himself.  His wrinkled face looked utterly exhausted from both the blistering heat punishing his tired old body and an unknown fear that was seemingly driving him forward. 

It was clear he was not out for a casual ride in the summer sun; the way he was moving seemed to indicate he was riding from something rather than to something.  He stared intensely through Bobby with penetrating eyes yet pale enough that they stood out acutely on his rough dirty face.

Bobby glanced over at the boys with a nervous little look and confused smile as if to say ‘this crazy old man aint moving’.

It seemed he had underestimated his adversary, he had no idea what was driving this man on but it was something so powerful that it had made him oblivious to the boy who stood before him and the heat that was the cause of his fatigue.  Those factors had somehow been overshadowed by something else.  It seemed there was nothing in his path and nothing that could possibly stop him.

The old man steamed on with a slow rhythmic motion swaying from side to side.  His legs fired like pistons now moving his load closer to Bobby at every repetition. 

He was within a good fifteen metres of them now, when suddenly he seemed to pull focus on Bobby.  His legs appeared to seize a little, his arms buckled and his eyes fixed attentively on the obtrusion before him

Bobby took one final drag on his cigarette and manoeuvred it between his thumb and index finger then flicked it with speed toward the ground.  He exhaled downwards then moved his head slowly towards the old man to regain eye contact. 

Bobby still showed no intention of surrendering his ground but looked a little more nervous than before.  He expanded his shoulders and arms to increase his mass.

The old man, now five metres or so away, wobbled and tightened his desperate grasp on his handlebars. 

Bobby shifted his body sharply to avoid collision, his weight effortlessly swivelled from one leg to another as he pirouetted himself from harm’s way, missing the old man by a hair. 

The old man lost all control and turned sharply into the grass verge.  One leg came off the pedal and bounced off the ground as the bike stooped over; he finally lost balance and crashed to the hot earth with a thunderous collapse.

‘IT’S NOT AGAINST THE LAW TO BRAKE!’  Bobby cried out loudly with a raucous joy, emphatically celebrating his sadistic victory.

Bobby couldn’t stop laughing as he shouted to the old man, bent over with his hands on his knees, his chest convulsing his every hearty guffaw.  The others looked on, embarrassed and unimpressed as they turned away from the wreckage.

Paul had sat up straight on his bike, flicking up a pedal in readiness to push off while Devlin had got off the bench and moved quickly toward his.  They were on vigilant alert; ready to ride away in a hurry should there be any repercussions either from the old man or any witnesses they hadn’t seen.

Devlin, picking up his bike and moving it between his legs, began to clap his hands sarcastically in the direction of Bobby. 

Mikey looked at Devlin as if to suggest maybe they should go over and help the old man, while he was scared what reaction it may provoke, it seemed like the decent thing to do. 

Devlin looked back almost telepathically in reply.  He shared Mikey’s fear of what the old man might do and without words the two coyly looked away, deciding not to go and help. 

These things were the norm for Bobby, at first his unexplainable actions were funny but now they had become tiresome and awkward and they cut little mustard anymore with the others.

The old man lay in a sad dirty heap several yards from the boys, he remained still for what seemed an age but in reality was only a minute or so. 

An uneasy feeling as to what he would do next suddenly enveloped the boys.  They all stood like statues among the graveyard, Paul had turned his bike around in anticipation of making a quick and somewhat cowardly getaway.

The old man made a slight movement, he reached out a leg, followed by an arm and then moving to all fours with his back arched looking like a predator ready to pounce on his prey. 

He began to get up and dust himself down, not once looking over at the boys.  He picked up some items on the grass that had fallen out of his pockets and the wicker basket that sat on the front of his bike.  He straightened his hat and picked up his bike, unfazed by his humiliation he seemed ready to carry on with his journey. 

He jumped on his bike without sign of any injury sustained and an agile enthusiasm not synonymous with someone of his perceived age.  He began to ride off then stopped suddenly. 

Bobby stopped laughing, paused and looked at the others. 

The old man straightened his hat again and turned his head, looking directly at the boys.

‘YOU FUCKING KIDS ARE GONNA BURN IN HELL!!!!’  He screamed in a deep smoky voice that then unleashed a throaty breaking cackle that bellowed across the churchyard.

He looked at each of them for a second in turn as if to measure them one by one.  He turned and rode off, quickly breaking into the same pace of emergency and purpose that he rode toward them with.

The boys looked at each other with a surreal and perplexed shock as he disappeared into the distance.  Mikey looked at Devlin who wore a wide-eyed frown, he in turn glanced at Paul who gave a confused shrug of his shoulders.

They didn’t know what to make of it, it had caught them all off guard and Mikey couldn’t help but think it was a little more than they deserved.  The jarring severity of the old man’s words engulfed the boys with an anxious feeling of dread, even Bobby, who was the first to break the uncomfortable silence.

‘Freak!  What a crazy fucker.  That was funny though, right.....guys?’  Bobby appeared nervous, his words were broken and he was a little out of breath, he seemed desperate for their support while trying not to show a shred of remorse.

‘Jesus Bobby what’s wrong with you?’  Mikey let his anger and disapproval in Bobby’s actions be known in no uncertain terms. 

As much as Mikey would normally try this was not an occasion to defend him.  Getting himself into trouble was one thing but when he dragged the others into it too even Mikey tended to step back.

‘Man, what is your problem?’  Bobby asked as if he genuinely didn’t know.

‘You ya twisted fuck!  They all laughed, except Bobby who just stood there with a blank expression on his face.

He shrugged his shoulders and looked on, completely thrown by Mikey’s damning assessment of him. 

While the question Mikey posed was in itself rhetoric it was one that would have to be answered someday and Bobby would have to take a deep look inside him to find that answer, if there was one at all. 

They all knew there was something wrong with Bobby and Mikey thought that deep down even Bobby knew it himself.

‘I’m out guys’.  Said Mikey as he shook his head and dispensed another half-hearted look of disappointment at Bobby.

‘Guys….come on huh…..come on’.  The immediate forgiveness Bobby was looking for was not forthcoming from the others.

‘Me too, what time is the rendezvous?’  Paul asked as he dismounted his bike for a moment.

‘The rendezvous?’ Mikey said looking puzzled.

‘Paul it’s a sleep-over not a military operation’.   Devlin raised a laugh from everyone even Paul who appreciated his dry humour and quick witticisms.

Paul picked up his bike and gave Devlin the finger.  Devlin laughed at the bird that was being flicked his way and patted Paul on the back.

‘I'll make sure I get some booze’.  Paul said as he climbed back awkwardly onto his bike that looked just a little too big for him. 

He swung the pedals round ready to leave too.

‘Please Paul none of that Brandy shit you brought last time.  Dev you’re on food duty’.  Devlin nodded his head to Mikey and readied himself to depart the graveyard.

‘Consider my refrigerator raided, adios amigos!’

‘I'll get some smokes, catch ya later’.  Bobby said casually as if nothing had happened and that the others had already forgotten what he had done. 

He had pissed them off but it wasn’t the first time and it certainly wouldn’t be the last.  That sort of stunt happened on a weekly basis and if they were to hold it against him they probably would never talk to him again. 

The previous week he had shoplifted a gold-plated fountain pen and two decks of playing cards from Grey’s hardware, before that he had set off the fire sprinklers in school twice in three days by smoking in the toilets and four or so months before that there was the incident on the way back from Channence Lakes. 

The sprinkler indiscretion had earned him a two day suspension, his third this school year.  Bobby didn’t care too much, school was not too important to him in the big scheme of things, it was just another chore in life, he couldn’t grasp the concept or purpose and didn’t care to try.  There was nothing in it for him as far as he could see and as such school had become nothing more than a redundant exercise that just so happened to fill out his day.

Bobby Templer, even by his own admission, was never going to be a doctor or a lawyer, he just didn’t have the aptitude and because of this he adopted a defeatist attitude toward almost anything academic.    

By the evening though his actions would be long forgotten and it wasn’t just another regular evening, it was something much more special, a sleepover.

16:26

During the summer months and school holidays they tried to have a sleepover at least every fortnight, it was a tradition they embraced whenever they could. 

The sleepovers were always round Mikey’s or Paul’s house.  Devlin’s parents were the kind that didn’t mind him going to a sleepover but didn’t want the inconvenience of a group of young boys making noise and being boys in their own home. 

Bobby, on the other hand, had always been embarrassed of his house - that was more than a little poorer than the others’ - and his family who did not have the most virtuous of reputations in Sacred.  While he wasn’t the type to admit it, he didn’t like the others to pass judgement on him, besides that it had been a difficult time for Bobby recently; a sleepover would have been out of the question. 

Devlin and Bobby had begun their journey home toward the north-west end of town.  Bobby was trying hard to catch up as Devlin selfishly sped off.  It seemed he didn’t want his company for the ride home.

Mikey picked up his bike from the impoverished yellow grass and walked it along the footpath.  He paused for a second and mopped the collective beads of sweat from his brow. 

He looked around.  The graveyard was like a sea of stone and dull marble, etched with names of the dead.  The headstones lay scattered amongst the soil and dead weeds with no consistent pattern, dotted here and there.

The church sat gracelessly somewhere in the middle of the headstones that surrounded it, engulfed by the shadows of a bunch of looming oak trees that made a perimeter directly around it.

Mikey approached the church along the clay footpath, he noticed the doors were locked with a new looking padlock, some litter laid by the entrance and inside looked dark and lifeless.

It was a small church, short and narrow and about one story high, somehow quite insignificant in proportion to the mass of its surroundings.  It didn’t appear to be particularly well built and if you looked at it from a certain angle it seemed to slope uneasily to one side.  The church had a cold and uninviting presence and only held about one hundred people in what was now woodworm infested pews that faced a pulpit at the far end. 

It’s stone and wood body was covered mainly in lush ivy that climbed high upon the sides, threatening to take it over completely.  Three arched windows were on either side that just managed to be seen through the thick green throng of leaves.  Weeds were beginning to lurk and crawl up from the ground that housed its foundations. 

The church looked like it hadn’t seen any attention or visitors in months.  It was reasonably young in church years, about ninety years or so, although its condition had deteriorated badly over the last few years.  The wooden doors were weathered and rotten and slates were missing from both the roof and the diminutive temple that sat at the entrance.  As Mikey looked up to the gable a large metal cross that sat there looked slightly buckled from the heat and seemed to curve and bend to one side.

Graffiti and crude daubing’s were plastered on the near empty notice board by the doors and the words; I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me – John 14:6 were engraved in a moss covered stone plaque that sat above the entrance. 

Sacred was no longer a town of church-goers, the community had lost more than just interest, it had sadly lost faith.  The church seemed to have no solutions for the problems Sacred faced.

Mikey stopped again to catch his breath as he put the church behind him; the several acres of the graveyard seemed never-ending in the heat.

It was the hottest summer the small town of Sacred had seen in fourteen years.  Mikey was constantly reminded of this as that last long hot summer his mother was just carrying him to term.  She had said that summer was the longest of her life and that being pregnant in that heat was no laughing matter.  She would joke that Mikey had known exactly how hot it was outside, which was why he was two weeks past his due date.

Everyone in Sacred was talking about the weather of the last five or six days and just when the heat-wave would end.  The temperature had been in the mid-nineties pretty consistently for four days and showed no