Part I – Part II – Part III – Part IV
It was the 2018 winter gathering. A pre-Christmas celebration for the entire village – 150 people packed like sardines in a cosy hall. A night of music, performances, and talks from prominent figures in the village. An amalgamation of festivities.
“Do you mind doing the thing, honey?” I asked Maria.
My wife raised her eyebrows suggestively. “In the middle of the town hall?”
I snorted. “Not that thing. The, uh, back thing.”
“Oh, right,” Maria laughed. “You’re such an old man.”
“I’ll be standing up there for ages,” I said, shifting uncomfortably in my seat. “I don’t want to get that annoying knot in the bottom of my spine.”
“You’ll be up there 5 minutes, tops,” She laughed. “36 is painful, eh?”
“You should know,” I replied, grinning.
I received a thump on the arm, understandably – make risky jokes, and receive fitting results. But Maria chuckled and twisted my torso to the side, before lovingly massaging my shoulders. I locked eyes with the neighbours, Tommy and Maggie, who were sitting a couple of rows behind us. Mags rolled her eyes at me, and Tommy rubbed his chin thoughtfully, before whispering something to his wife. She shook her head.
“Oh, look,” Tommy said, pointing as the mayor walked towards the stage. “It’s Mrs Avers–”
“– Stop it,” Maggie tutted, slapping her husband’s wrist.
“And now, Peter Tully will say a few words!” Mayor Aileen Balfour announced. “Put your hands together for our trusty park ranger.”
I’m not a public speaker. But, given the year’s events, the villagers were expecting some promising words about the future.
Matthew Wright had, one month prior, passed away. And as much as I loathed the man for tying me to that wretched place, I understood why he had done it.
He tried to make amends. He had protected my family over the years. He had even searched for answers that might save the village – after claiming to have given up on the world. He craved redemption in my eyes.
Matthew Wright was a desperate man, and I may well have done the same in his shoes.
Maria, Henry, and I were the only people beside his hospital bed. A couple of villagers stopped by, of course, but his family died long ago. He was the last in a long line of Wrights cursed by the Highlands of the Dead.
“Who’s gonna keep Dad in line, Uncle Matt?” Henry asked.
The old man chortled, before spiralling into a coughing fit.
“That’s karma,” I told him, smiling.
He smiled back.
“It’s a shame that we should finally see eye to eye on my death bed,” He croaked, chuckling. “There are, of course, a few things we should discuss… before I pass.”
Maria awkwardly cleared her throat. “Come on, Henry.”
Matthew beamed at my wife and son as they walked out of the door.
“A beautiful family,” He said.
I nodded. “I’m lucky.”
“No,” Matthew replied. “You were unlucky to meet me. Look at you. You’re not a boy anymore. I stole your life from you. I… I should’ve…”
I shook my head. “You warned me that there were things you couldn’t tell me. Dangers in the forest. I heard you, and I felt a knot of fear in my gut. I could’ve listened to that instinct. But I didn’t. I was carrying my own trauma. I had something to prove. But you should know that I chose to start a life here. And I have a family. I’m luckier than most.”
The old man spluttered. “You know… I had a wife once.”
“You never told me that,” I said.
Matthew shrugged. “Long before you arrived in this village, I had already lived a full life. Paisley and I were… trying for a baby.”
“What happened?” I asked.
“They came at night,” He whispered. “Inhuman things from the old factory over the ridge. Nobody really knows what happened there… But we know those things used to be people. And they… They took her. They took Paisley.”
The old man cried, and I comfortingly placed a hand on his shoulder.
“I was a park ranger. I knew about the horrors of the Highlands, of course,” Matthew continued. “It was a secret passed down from the rangers to their children. Each of us took up the mantle from our parents before us. There were more of us back then. It seems the village gets smaller and smaller with every passing year… And now you’re the only ranger left. What comes after you? I don’t know… But we mustn’t let Henry take your place, Peter. We mustn’t.”
“I won’t let him step foot in those woods,” I said. “But I’m starting to lose hope, Matthew. For years, we’ve tried to uncover the root of this evil. Your family has been here for generations, and even they didn’t know what to do.”
“It didn’t always used to be so terrible in our village… There were good times before… Well, before the heartbreak. The tragedy. As for the land beyond the forest? Well… The Highlands of the Dead spread farther than our patch of Hell,” He said. “I’ve told you this before. There will be someone out there who knows the truth.”
“How the tables have turned,” I replied. “I remember when I was the one trying to convince you to hold onto your hope.”
“Well, that was before there were people in my life that I could call fa…” Matthew started, trailing off before sentimentality got the better of his Scottish sturdiness. “I’m thinking about what comes after you, Peter. I don’t think you’ve accepted that you won’t be here forever.”
I looked out of the horizontal glass pane between Matthew’s room and the waiting area. I could see Maria and Henry talking enigmatically. My son was somehow 12 years old. Time had flitted by at a cruel rate. In my eyes, I was still that 22-year-old boy who moved to the village with dreams of a quiet country life.
“Keep searching for the answer, Peter. Remember what you’re protecting,” He said. “But in the event that you should… fail… you need to make sure that somebody takes the reins.”
“No,” I said firmly. “I will be the last park ranger. Or, at least, the last one who does anything other than spotting forest fires and helping hikers.”
“There we go,” Matthew whispered, smiling. “I was worried you’d lost that youthful spark for a moment. I don’t want you to end up like me, son.”
I smiled, patting the man’s shoulder again, before standing up and heading towards the door.
“Before you go,” He suddenly said. “We’re trapped in this village. But help can still come to us.”
And that was the last thing he ever said to me.
After mulling over Matthew’s parting words, I made an arrangement with Mayor Balfour. She, like many others in the village, was aware of what lay in the Highlands. Not all who visit the village become tied to this place. Tourists come and go from time to time. And there are even villagers who have left without resistance.
But it is impossible to say who the Highlands will or will not spare.
We don’t take risks. We – those of us who keep this secret – keep our loved ones here. I have spent 20 years convincing Maria to never leave this place.
“I’m, uh… not a good speaker,” I said, laughing into the microphone. “But Aileen insisted I speak to you about a guest…”
Before I could continue, a chair abruptly squeaked against floorboards. Heads turned to face a mysterious outsider who strolled down the main aisle.
“Hello!” The man bellowed, chuckling heartily. “I’ll take over, lad. I can see that you don’t wanna be standing up there. An Englishman in a room full o’ Scotsmen. Never ends well, does it?”
The room erupted into a chorus of laughter, and I awkwardly shuffled away from the microphone, content to be standing silently alongside Aileen.
When the man arrived on the stage, he hopped up with ease.
“Good evenin’, my fellow Highlanders!” He roared. “My name is Ciaran Green. I come from a little hamlet just over the hills. Y’might know the one. Or maybe y’don’t because, well, y’don’t really leave this place, do you?”
I anxiously eyed Aileen, and she nodded her head.
We had not come to the decision easily, but it was time to do things differently from those who had come before us. I just dreaded how my wife and son would react to Ciaran’s announcement.
The man sighed, planting his hands on the podium before him. “You see, there’s something that many of you know. Something that you’ve not wanted t’tell your loved ones. A secret of the land passed from generation to generation. And I know all about that. These Highlands have been host to many a sorry sight. See, our hamlet used to be much bigger. And then they came. Dark things in the night. They killed our family and friends. And we swore it would never happen again. We realised that secrets would kill us all.”
A hushed wave of whispers spread through the hall, and I locked eyes with Maria.
“What’s happening?” She mouthed at me.
I had no response.
“There is a special duty performed by the park rangers of this village – well, the sole remaining ranger. And it doesn’t involve spotting fires or herding sheep. It’s–”
“– Some things are better left unsaid!” Tommy suddenly shouted, rising to his feet.
“Stop making a scene, Tommy,” Maggie begged.
“I’m protecting you, dear,” He said, before looking at the crowd. “Yes, there are things that happen in those woods, but the people of this village don’t need to know about them.”
“WRONG!” Ciaran shouted, silencing my neighbour. “Some of you have seen things you couldn’t explain. Perhaps you have dismissed those things. But, judging by the look on your faces, I’d say not. YOU ARE NOT SAFE. I ask again… How many of you have left this place?”
The room fell silent.
“Aye,” Ciaran nodded. “And how many of you stay because, at some point in your youth, someone warned you not to leave?”
I saw faces twist and turn – families eyed one another suspiciously. Aileen’s husband cast a disparaging glare in her direction. Maria surveyed me with teary eyes.
“I do not blame your village for spending a century concealing this treacherous truth,” He said. “But we have watched tragedy after tragedy befall our land, have we not? And with each fresh horror, the darkness grows.”
“Why now?” A woman cried from the crowd. “Why tell us after all of these years?”
Ciaran turned to face me. “Ask the park ranger.”
I eyed the vicious mob sitting in the hall. Maria couldn’t even look at me. Henry maintained his composure, but the colour had drained from the little boy’s face.
“I made a decision,” I said. “A decision backed by Matthew Wright himself.”
“Don’t bring his name into this!” A man snarled. “YOU’RE NOT ONE OF US!”
“Yes, we are!” Henry screamed, attempting to stand.
Maria held him down.
“Matthew and I have seen things that most of you would never understand,” I continued, striving to hide my unsteady disposition. “And we decided to break the cycle.”
“Please, Mark!” Tommy said with tearful eyes. “Enough. You’ve said your piece. It’s done now.”
I shook my head. “It isn’t done. And it’ll never be done. Do you want to know what lies in that forest? The dead. OUR dead. And we will continue to feed these Highlands for as long as we do nothing. Look at our children. Do they deserve this?”
“There is nothing that can be done,” An old woman called. “All who tried have died.”
“Not true,” Ciaran interrupted, pushing me aside and leaning towards the microphone. “I have tried. Peter has tried. And we’re still here.”
“We know about the woods. The Highlands of the Dead. But we keep to ourselves, and nothing bad happens,” A man shouted.
“Oh, sir… Bad things happen all of the time,” Ciaran said coldly. “Peter Tully has been giving his soul to the woods for 14 years. He’s a shell of a man. Look at him. He does it for YOU. And if he were to stop… Well… The forest would have to look elsewhere to feast on souls.”
“Something has cursed this land,” I interjected. “We don’t know what lies at the heart of the Highlands. It wears many faces and takes many forms. All we know–”
“– is that it never stops,” Ciaran finished.
“Mark, I understand that you want to protect us,” Tommy said. “But my mother told me things that… Look, it’s just… We can’t fight it. Natural or unnatural, the might of the Highlands will always best us.”
“I’m not going to let this place take my boy,” I whispered, eyeing Henry.
Maria lifted her eyes to meet mine. They were brimming with tears, but she met my gaze – that was something.
Ciaran patted my back and took over. “I visited one of the lake towns recently. Saw an old friend of my grandfather. He told me a story about a witch…”
“Oh, come on!” A man sighed.
“Listen, boy,” Ciaran spat. “Y’don’t want to test me. I’ll drag you down to the forest myself and show you the…”
Ciaran Green paused, collecting himself. “All that matters is there might be a way to lift this curse. To free you from the death hanging over this place. Peter Tully and I will go to the woods tonight. And we will end this. But if we don’t… Well, at least you know the truth. And somebody brave can take up the mantle. It never should have been Peter’s cross to carry. Matthew Wright forced him here, and–”
“– Let’s not speak ill of the dead,” I said, sensing the hollow atmosphere in the hall. “Before I go–”
“– Where are you going?” Maria cried in floods of tears.
“We’ll talk later,” I said. “Look after Henry.”
“All will be well,” Ciaran promised, ushering me towards him. “We will gather here in the morning.”
The crowd talked restlessly, and Aileen rushed to the microphone as Ciaran and I slipped out of a back door. I saw Henry standing and watching me with a lost expression.
“That went about as well as expected,” Ciaran said, unlocking his vehicle.
I sighed, climbing into the passenger seat. “Just go.”
As we tore off the tarmac, a few villagers poured out of the front doors and watched us drive away.
“They were never going to accept it,” Ciaran said. “They’ve always known. Deep down. But they didn’t want to know.”
“Would you have done what I did?” I asked.
“I already have,” The man sighed. “I had a smaller crowd to appease, mind.”
“They deserved to know a long time ago,” I said.
“Well… Ignorance is bliss,” Ciaran replied. “But we don’t have that luxury in the Highlands. I learnt that the hard way.”
He took a dirt road into the thick of the woods.
I frowned. “Uh, I usually turn a little farther up the main–”
“– We all learn hard lessons,” Ciaran said, interrupting me. “My hamlet used to be a village. Roughly the size of yours. But that all changed when the creatures came… Matthew told you all about that, didn’t he?”
“Yes, the incident at the factory,” I said, frowning. “But this road is the–”
“– And it wouldn’t have happened if everybody had known,” Ciaran interrupted a second time. “Since then, every time the creatures come – and they always come – my neighbours know what to do. Of course, they don’t know what I do to keep them safe… There are still some secrets we must carry to the grave. Isn’t that right, park ranger?”
He slowed to a stop and secured the hand-brake. We were sitting in the middle of the forest.
“What are you trying to say, Ciaran?” I asked, unsettled by his shifting demeanour.
The man sighed. “I wasn’t going to come here without a plan, park ranger. And do you know what I found when I did a little background research on you? A terrible story from London. A newspaper article about a police officer who fumbled negotiations with a robber. Do you ever dream of that little girl, Peter? The one who died as the result of your miscalculation?”
I clenched my fists. “It wasn’t like that. I… I didn’t know he would shoot… But it’s no secret. The whole city knew. That’s why we–”
“– Moved to a place in which nobody knew your name?” Ciaran asked.
“Why are you doing this?” I asked. “Do you not trust me? Is that the problem? I want the same thing that you want.”
“I know you do, Peter,” He said. “And aren’t the Highlanders lucky to have such a brave Englishman on their side? He’s come to save the day. We Scottish peasants would be lost without you.”
“I don’t really care about your ancient prejudice,” I said, sighing. “Let’s just finish this, and–”
The sudden blow to my temple sent a ripple of pain through my body. Acting on impulse, rather than any conscious form of thought, I scrambled for the car’s door handle and fell onto the forest floor.
“Prejudice? It’s not as personal as that,” Ciaran said, stepping out of the driver’s side. “I mean… I hate the English. Don’t get me wrong. But this isn’t some meaningless act. No, this is about the survival of my people.”
I groaned, clutching the side of my head and stumbling shakily to my feet. The vision in my right eye was uneven and blurry. My left eye was just as useless as ever. But I could vaguely distinguish Ciaran approaching with a torch in his hand – the blunt instrument he had used to assault me.
“I don’t know how to stop any of this,” Ciaran admitted. “But I do know how to give the woods what it wants. And it’s been craving you for a long time… I think it might finally spare my hamlet. All I have to do is give you to it. So, I didn’t lie, Peter. Not really. This is for the greater good…”
I stumbled to the side, supporting my weight on the car.
“What about… this village?” I asked. “They’re people of the Highlands too.”
Ciaran shrugged, striding towards me. “Not my people.”
Concussed, and near-blind, I raised an arm to defend myself. But Ciaran swiftly bludgeoned my face a second time, and I fell to the ground in agony. Spitting teeth and blood into the dirt, I tried to crawl away.
“Family, Peter,” He said. “You understand, don’t you? That’s what it’s all about. I told you. I don’t care about Scotland or England. I just care about my own flesh and blood. I’ve got two boys at home. So, try t’understand that.”
I rolled onto my back, propping my body against a nearby tree. The wind picked up, and I heard strange, guttural noises from the earth below us.
“It’s almost time,” Ciaran said, raising his torch one last time. “The forest will be so thankful that I brought you. You have saved people, Peter. Just not your people.”
Barely clinging to consciousness, I spat blood at his feet, and the man laughed.
“Aye, I’ll give you that one, Englishman,” He said, patting the red specks on his trouser legs. “And don’t worry. I’ll make this quick. I promise. I’m a man of my word.”
I croakily laughed. “You’re no man.”
Ciaran scowled, raising his torch to finish the job. I closed my eyes and awaited the embrace of darkness. I could only see Maria and Henry. I prayed that they would find a way to free themselves of the Highlands. I didn’t want their forgiveness – just their safety.
A thud sounded.
But I didn’t feel a thing. And when I opened my eyes, I found myself facing an unlikely sight.
Tommy Buchanan.
He was towering over Ciaran’s crumpled body, and there was a shovel in his hands – a shovel which he promptly dropped to the ground, before rushing over to me.
“He’s no man, and he’s certainly no Scotsman. Come on, Peter. I’m parked a dozen yards down the dirt track,” He said, panting as he reached down and hoisted me to my feet. “Let’s get you to the hospital.”
I hobbled to the car, supporting my weakening body on Tommy’s shoulders. Adrenaline kept me awake, but that was a good thing – I didn’t want to pass out with a head injury.
I closed the door, and Tommy rushed to the driver’s side. As his body flitted past the windscreen, I squinted – desperately trying to discern a moving shape at the edge of the treeline.
Ciaran.
“DRIVE!” I cried, as Tommy clambered into the car.
Ciaran threw his body onto the bonnet. His bloody, bruised face matched my own.
“Watch out!” I cried, as Tommy rapidly reversed the car.
The rear bumper collided with a sturdy tree trunk, and Ciaran crumpled into the windscreen.
“I’ll kill you both,” He said in a half-conscious grumble, whilst weakly pounding the glass.
As Tommy reached for the door handle, the wind began to wail shrilly. And then, in a flash of movement, Ciaran’s body was torn from the front of the car.
Tommy and I watched in confusion as a shape rose from the dirt. A horrifyingly tall spectre with the faint shape of a woman. But it was not human. I’d seen horrors like it before.
The undead entity meshed seamlessly with the forest ground, and its branch-like arms seized Ciaran by the throat. Something about her was different from the other creatures I’d seen in the Highlands. The tattered clothes. So familiar.
“Mercy…” Tommy whispered. “It can’t be…”
“What?” I asked, head falling apart at the seams.
“Shirley Pond,” He said.
I recognised that name. I hadn’t heard it since the day I moved to the village. 14 years earlier, Matthew had told me about a park ranger who disappeared in the woods. The one who came before me.
My friend furiously revved the engine and beelined for the main road. We left Ciaran and the undead spirit of Shirley Pond behind.
Since that first night in the forest, I’ve always suspected that it might have been her whose gnarled, rotting hands saved me from the schoolteacher. I do not know for certain.
But I know that she saved Tommy and me.