CHAPTER 18
THE BUTCHERBIRD
We pass miles and miles of endless countryside, where fields seem to stretch on forever, untouched and abandoned. The road beneath us starts to crack and fade, and there are no signs of civilisation, no rumble of wheels, no shadows of distant figures, no buildings. Nothing.
I see Paul looking me over, his expression unreadable.
And yet with this desolation, there’s a spark of something forgotten but familiar.
It’s been ages since us girls have all been together.
I had almost forgotten how friendship was supposed to feel – like warmth breaking through the cold.
But when we’re together, it’s as if no time has passed at all.
Laughter and whispered memories fill the space where the world used to be.
I roll down the window, letting the fresh chill of the night seep into the car.
The air carries the untamed scent of darkness, heavy and all-consuming.
The road ahead is deteriorating, each stretch more uneven than the last, riddled with potholes and narrowing into a precarious trail.
Emma grips the steering wheel tightly, easing the car to a crawl, her knuckles pale under the strain as she struggles to see ahead.
All of a sudden, the car screeches and all of us are thrown forward tight against our seatbelts.
‘What the fuck, Emma?’ Rachel blurts.
The car jerks to a halt as the headlights illuminate a massive wild boar planted defiantly in the middle of the road.
Its bristly hide glints in the harsh glare, a contrast to the deep shadows clinging to the edges of the forest. For a moment, it stands there, unbothered by our intrusion.
Then, with an air of nonchalance, it saunters off to the side, each motion steeped in its quiet dominance.
Grandpa would have had it roasting over a fire by now, his life flashing in the fire’s flame, making short work of the defiant beast. But tonight, it disappears into the trees, leaving our tension in its wake.
I place my hand over my heart, the muscle pounding in strong, heavy beats.
I’m still here. Still breathing.
‘What. Was. That?’ Anna gawps, her eyes wide as she stares into the night.
Paul leans forward from the back seat, his grin annoyingly calm. ‘A boar,’ he says, as if it’s the most ordinary thing in the world. ‘ Plenty of them around here.’
‘That…was a pig?’ Anna twists in her seat.
I glance at Paul, shrugging, but he’s already flashing me that sly, knowing smile that makes me want to either laugh or punch him.
‘Speaking of pork,’ he adds with a smirk. ‘I really hope this place has a barbecue.’
‘Oh, me too!’ Sarah interrupts, her voice tingling with excitement. ‘The brochure said there’s a shop a few kilometers away.’
John leans forward, shaking his head. ‘It will be closed at this hour, for sure.’
‘Let’s just get there,’ I suggest, adding a touch of practicality to the mix. The tension in the car eases as we march on, just a little, but my chest still thrums with the lingering dose of adrenaline, and I smile.
As we crest the hill, the finca comes into view, and the energy in the car shifts, rippling with excitement.
Sarah’s eyes light up, her whole face breaking into an uncontrollable grin as she throws open the door before we’ve fully stopped.
‘This place is incredible!’ she declares, spinning in a slow circle to take it all in.
Her voice carries an awe that makes us all pile out quickly.
Rachel’s already got her camera out, angling for the perfect shot as the rest of us grab our bags, laughter spilling into the cool evening air.
The directions were precise – find the key tucked inside the weathered plant pot near the door.
My fingers graze the terracotta, smooth and cold, before I lift it and pull the key out and fit it into the lock.
The wooden door groans as it swings open, as if it hasn’t moved in years, and we step inside.
The air greets us with an odd mix of sweetness from blooming flowers outside and the faint, sharp bite of smoke wafting through the room.
We scatter, our footsteps pounding across rustic tile floors as we all take in the simple, charming décor – exposed beams, faded rugs, and warmth that feels too alive to be coming from an empty house.
The fireplace crackles fiercely, the flames leaping high.
It’s welcoming, sure, but there’s something about the readiness of it that makes my pulse quicken. And not in a good way.
Paul swings the fridge open with a dramatic gesture. ‘Bingo! Meat and booze,’ he announces, his grin widening in triumph. I fold my arms, leaning against the counter, the weight of skepticism settling over me.
‘They stocked the fridge and lit a fire?’ My question heavy with suspicion is ignored.
Emma and Paul had wandered down to the stream, leaving the finca in a peaceful lull. Sarah was fast asleep on the sofa, John had gone for a walk, and Rachel and Anna stand in the kitchen, cleaning up the remnants of our dinner.
‘You all right?’ Rachel asks softly, caressing Anna’s arm.
‘Yeah,’ Anna replies with a smile, no doubt her mind drifting back to the scene she had witnessed earlier.
She’d pulled me aside, and told me that under the silvery glow of the moon, she saw Paul, showering outdoors; the water cascading down his body, glistening like liquid silver against his skin.
He seemed completely at ease, so she said, despite being out here in the middle of nowhere among strangers.
She hated herself as she watched him while she hid in the shadows.
I told her, we probably all would have, should we have had the chance.
Her mind raced as his hand stroked his penis, and she took a step back, her foot snapping on a twig.
She’s almost entirely convinced she can never speak to him again.
‘Today turned out pretty good. Lucky we bumped into Paul and John, really. We completely forgot about food. I didn’t see anywhere to shop on the way here, did you?’ Rachel continues, drying the plates Anna hands her.
‘No, actually,’ Anna says, her brow furrowing as she scrubs a particularly stubborn spot.
‘Emma seems pretty into Paul,’ Rachel observes with a knowing smile. ‘Then, she is gorgeous so what man wouldn’t be into her?’
‘I’ve noticed,’ Anna replies, but their conversation is abruptly cut short by a loud, piercing scream. Anna drops the plate she’s holding, and we all scramble outside.
‘What? What happened?’ Anna shouts, as we see Emma running towards us, panic etched into her face.
Rachel quickly pulls Emma aside, trying to assess where the blood on Emma’s face is coming from. I look out into the darkening forest. Where’s Paul?
‘It’s not my blood, it’s Paul’s.’
What?
‘He’s just behind me. Oh my god,’ Emma stammers, her voice trembling.
I knew this was a bad idea. There’s no hospital for miles. No one.
‘Calm down. What happened?’ Rachel demands, as Anna scans her eyes, her voice steady despite the chaos.
‘Something attacked us,’ Emma cries, her eyes wide with fear.
‘Attacked you?’ Anna repeats. ‘Like what?’
‘Yes! We were...kissing, and something came out of nowhere. I just ran. Oh my god…Paul,’ Emma sobs.
‘PAUL?’ Anna cries out, scanning the darkness. ‘PAUL?’
Paul bursts from the trees, his steps uneven, and his face pale as blood drips steadily from the gash on his arm. The sight jolts me into action before I even think – Rachel, already at his side, her hands reaching to steady him. Anna and I rush to help, our breaths tight.
‘Inside, quickly,’ I hiss, glancing around at the shadows. We drag him inside, the door slamming shut behind us. Rachel’s hands are shaking, but she presses down on the wound, trying to stem the flow of blood.
‘Anna, grab the first aid kit.’
‘Where is it?’
‘Under the kitchen cabinet,’
Anna rushes to comply. Rachel was the sensible one; it is of no surprise she knows where the first aid kit is. Her hands shaking as she rummages through the supplies.
‘What attacked you?’ she asks, her voice now barely above a whisper.
‘I don’t know,’ Paul groans, wincing in pain. ‘It was fast, came out of nowhere. Shit , Pops is out there! I’ve got to...’
‘Lay back down, you’re bleeding,’ Rachel works quickly, cleaning and bandaging Paul’s wound. ‘This is deep. We need to get him to a hospital,’ she says with an urgent tone.
‘I’m not leaving Pops!’
‘We’ll stay here,’ Sarah interrupts. ‘Won’t we, Anna?’
‘I’m going with Paul,’ Emma says, as she squeezes his hand.
‘There’s nowhere for miles,’ Paul protests.
‘Help me get him to the car,’ Rachel insists, as she heaves him up.
As we struggle to move Paul, the eerie silence of the forest presses around us. I can’t shake the feeling we’re being watched, and whatever had attacked Paul was still out there, and perhaps had followed him back.
‘The tyres have been slashed!’ Emma’s voice trembles in fear.
‘WHAT?’ we shout, rushing over to see. All four tyres of our rental vehicle have been brutally slashed, large gouges splitting the rubber.
Panic set in as we hurriedly take Paul back inside the safety of the finca .
‘We need to secure this place,’ Paul suggests, his voice strained with pain.
‘Pull all the blinds down, lock the doors, and windows, and turn off the lights.’
‘You need stitches!’ Rachel says urgently, examining his wound.
‘I’m sure I saw some fishing line in the back when I had a shower,’ Paul replies through gritted teeth as he looks at Anna.
‘Then, that will have to do. Sarah, grab that bottle of vodka on the side. Anna, can you fetch the line?’ Rachel instructs, with a steady and authoritative voice.
‘Sure,’ Anna nods.
‘And I need some scissors to trim the hair around the wound,’ Rachel adds.
‘I’ve got a razor!’ Sarah offers.
‘No, that will only increase the risk of infection. Kitchen scissors will suffice,’ Rachel corrects.