The Hounds Part Two

            "Oh man!" Johnny exclaimed. He fearlessly plunged his hands into the dense tangle of briars in an effort to pull Walter free. "WALTER, WALTER, CALM DOWN! IT'S JUST A BRIAR BUSH, THERE'S NO DEMONS!" he screamed desperately.

            He pulled Walter free and they both tumbled backwards away from the briars. Walter landed on top of Johnny and continued to scream and convulse with fear. Johnny clutched him tightly and tried to subdue him.

            "WALTER! You're okay, man, listen to me, you're okay, it was just a briar bush!" he exclaimed.

            Walter continued to scream. "HELP! HELP!"

            Johnny clutched him even tighter. Walter continued to thrash in his grip, but Walter's weakened state prevented him from breaking free. No more than a minute later, he was limp and exhausted in Johnny's arms.

            "Johnny? Am I okay?" Walter asked through strained, anguished sobs.

            "Yeah, Walt, you're ok, you just fell into a briar bush. The booze is playin' tricks on your mind, buddy." Johnny's voice was weak and trembling.

            "Are you sure, Johnny? I saw them. They were gonna kill me, man." Walter whispered.

            "Yeah, I'm sure, trust me. You need a drink?"

            "Yeah, can you get the bottle for me?"

            "Yup."

            Johnny released Walter and opened the backpack. With trembling hands, Johnny felt around for the bottle and pulled it out.

            "Can you hold it okay to take a drink or do you need my help?" Johnny asked.

            "You better do it, man. I'm still pretty shook up. I don't wanna spill the shit."

            "Okay."

            Feeling around in the dark, Johnny placed his hand behind Walter's head to steady him. With his free hand, he brought the bottle up to Walter's mouth and listened as Walter took a large drink. He heard him swallow and sigh loudly.

            "Better?" Johnny asked.

            "Yeah, I think so. Better. Thanks." Walter replied.

            "I need a drink myself." Johnny said. He tipped the bottle back recklessly and took two large gulps of the vodka. "Yeah. Better." he hissed.

            "Johnny, I really saw them." Walter mumbled.

            "Really saw what?"

            "The demons. They were all 'round me. They were talkin' to me. They were as real as the ground under us."

            Johnny sighed. "Walter, it's just the booze fuckin' wit' your head. It's fuckin' wit' my head too."

            "Maybe so." he replied weakly.

            Johnny took another shot. It had barely reached his stomach before he regurgitated it onto the ground beside him.

            "You all right?" Walter asked.

            "Yeah, I'm okay. Didn't wanna stay down."

            They sat in the darkness together, silent and fearful. They were in another world, a disturbed realm of inebriated tribulations from which they did not possess the wherewithal to escape. Disoriented and feverish, they were lost in a city wilderness no larger than one mile.

            "You feel up to walkin' yet?" Johnny asked.

            "Yeah, let's try it."

            "Let me help ya up."

            Johnny clasped hands with Walter and pulled him to his feet. They slowly began to move through the woods once again.

            "Walter, do you know where the hell we're goin'? I sure don't."

            "No, I don't. But if we keep walkin', we're gonna hit the railroad tracks sometime. It ain't like we're in some national forest or somethin'."

            "Yeah." Johnny replied.

            However, there was no end in sight. Figuratively and literally, these two men were lost. They stumbled through the darkness at the edge of the world. The darkness deprived them of all perspective, smashed all sense of distance, and possessed a liquid density that they could not penetrate. They were less than five hundred feet away from the edge of the wilderness, but they might as well have been on the moon.

            Johnny suddenly froze. "Walter, did you hear that?"

            "Hear what?"

            "That sound! Shhh!" Johnny sounded feverish. "I think something's followin' us!" he whispered.

            "Johnny." Walter replied dubiously. "I don't hear nothin'."

            Johnny sighed and shook his head sadly. "My head's a mess, Walt. I wanna sit down for a while."

            "Okay, no problem."

            They sat down and fell silent for a moment.

            "How'd we get like this, Walt? I'm scared and my head's all fucked up. Shit keeps movin' 'round on me."

            "We've been drunk for two weeks runnin', man. Hell, I don't even know what day of the week it is." Walter replied.

            "I've been seein' things for days, Walt. I don't feel right in the head. If it wasn't for you bein' 'round, I'd think I'd gone fuckin' nuts. And it's gettin' worse."

            "Whatcha been seein'?" Walter asked hesitantly.

            "Those fuckin' dogs. Insects as big as fists. Colors seem all fuckin' weird and, I'll tell you, the air even smells funny."

            "What? The air?" Walter asked incredulously.

            "Yeah, it smells like the whole world has gone rotten."

            Johnny reached inside the backpack once again and removed the half-gallon bottle of vodka. He took a couple of drinks from it and passed it to Walter.

            "What'd those hounds look like again, Johnny?"

            "They were horrible, disgustin' things. They were turned all inside out and this red slime covered them. They had fur and huge deformed teeth. Their heads were huge too. And when they spoke..." Johnny's voice began to tremble.

            "What? What about it?" Walter asked.

            "They sounded like you and me. They told me they were coming for us both and we couldn't escape them."

            Walter lit a cigarette with shaking hands. "Maybe we should go back to the tent and lay down. Worry about getting' a bottle later. I don't think it's more than nine o'clock, we've got six more hours 'fore the liquor store closes."

            "I sure wouldn't mind layin' back down. I can't think straight. I'm scared."

            "We ain't got nothin' to be scared of, Johnny, it's all in yer head." Walter pleaded.

            "Let's just make our way back to camp, okay?"

            "Okay, man. I think we should turn around. I don't think the tent's far."

            With that, the two men turned around and tried to walk back the way they came. The tepid breeze that slid through the dense wilderness was not comforting. It seemed to make the wilderness whisper with an indescribable loneliness and the treetops rustled slightly in the wake of its secretive current. Around them, nothing moved.

            "Walter, I'm scared." Johnny said. His voice trembled with uncertainty.

            "What's scarin' you now, Johnny?"

            "We ain't findin' our way outta here and I feel really weird. I keep hearin' things in the darkness."

            "There ain't nothin' out there, Johnny, I'm tellin' ya." Walter replied dismissively.

            "Walter, don't you tell me that shit, I'm hearin' what I'm hearin'. There's somethin' fuckin' out there!" Johnny exclaimed. There was a rage in his voice now. He was convinced that something was stalking them both and could no longer broker any disagreement.

            "You're losin' your mind, Johnny. I'm tellin' ya, we're just fucked up and lost. We'll figure it out." Walter tried to remain patient. He knew Johnny was sick and out of sorts. His own condition was marginally better.

            "DON'T YOU TELL ME I'M LOSIN' MY MIND, MOTHERFUCKER! I KNOW WHAT I'M HEARIN'! MAYBE YOU'RE A PART OF ALL OF THIS!" Johnny screamed hysterically.

            He's lost his fuckin' mind, Walter thought to himself. "Johnny, let's just sit down again and see if we can get our bearings." he replied.

            "Yeah, you motherfucker, let's sit down." He was no longer screaming, but his voice had taken on a sinister edge nonetheless.

            Walter sat down on the ground and Johnny practically collapsed beside him. Without a word, Johnny found the half-gallon bottle of vodka and took a drink from it. He sat the bottle down in front of Walter. After a few seconds, Johnny's entire body began to shake. At first, it was merely a tremor, but soon reached a feverish pitch. He began to writhe wildly.

            "Johnny, what's wrong?" This sudden outburst terrified Walter. He reached out and wrapped his arms around Johnny's emaciated frame in an attempt to stifle the convulsions.

            "It's gonna be alright, man, it's gonna be alright!" Walter exclaimed. "Just hang on to me!"

            However, Johnny could not stop shaking. With a sudden surge of energy, he aggressively pushed Walter away and began to scream. He leapt to his feet and staggered blindly into the darkness.

            "JOHNNY! WHERE YOU GOIN'? COME BACK!" Walter screamed.

            Johnny did not respond. All Walter could hear was Johnny crashing through the woods as he ran away. The sudden silence that came next was disconcerting. A sick, insane drunk stumblingly blindly through the wilderness at night was an accident waiting to happen. Disoriented and paralyzed by dread, Walter wept silently into his hands. He felt utterly helpless. Utterly beaten. In the end, all he could do was begin to walk in the direction that Johnny had taken and call out for him in the hope that he would answer.

            "JOHNNY!"

            Out in the dark, Johnny waited. The hounds had come again and, if they found him, he would defend himself. They would not take him without a fight. He knew now that Walter was helping them as well. He wanted to lead him to some place where the demons would be waiting. Johnny's mind raced feverishly and his eyes scanned the darkness for any sign of his foes.

            "JOHNNY! WHERE ARE YOU?" Walter cried out.

            He could hear Walter coming. He would not allow Walter to reveal his hiding place. He would not permit Walter to lead him to the hounds like a lamb to the slaughter. He would protect himself at all costs.

            "JOHNNY, WHERE ARE YOU? LET ME HELP YOU BACK TO THE TENT, MAN!"

            He was only a few feet away. Johnny silently reached in his pants pocket and pulled out his knife. He opened the knife and dim moonlight briefly illuminated the blade. He would put an end to Walter's attempts to murder him. He leapt out of the darkness with startling speed and plunged the knife repeatedly into Walter's back. A warm spray of blood splashed onto Johnny's face.

            "JOHNNY! NO!" Walter cried out.

            Walter collapsed to the ground and landed on his back. Johnny jumped on top of him and clutched a handful of his hair. With one decisive slice, he slit Walter's throat from ear to ear.

            "YOU WON'T BRING THEM TO ME, YOU BASTARD! YOU'RE TRYING TO KILL ME!"

            Then, out of the darkness, the hounds came again.