The Haggard Hallow

A hoarse whisper came through the front door intercom.

“Emre Pacheco is dead.”

Seth stood shocked. His trembling finger pushed the speak button.

“Why are you saying this?”

He waited but got no reply. He opened the door. No one was there. There was only a brown paper box on his dirty doormat.

The sky was bruised with brown. The gang had been trudging in the calf-deep mud of a trench for what seemed like hours. The evergreen trees curled up into a canopy through their sheer height. Carson side-eyed Seth, disdain burning through his gaze. Seth was unfazed. He only marched forward, clutching the brown paper box wrapped in plastic in his smoked-stained hands. He refused to let anyone else hold it despite his friends’ many protests. All they knew was that the box emitted a constant ticking sound.

“It could be a bomb,” Rickie had said, her voice trembling, “It could blow up and kill us all.”

Willa put her hand on Rickie’s shoulder, calming her only barely.

Seth shook his head, “No…It’s small.”

He rattled the box and heard only a dull thudding.

“It’s meant for me,” he continued, “I know what it means.”

Carson sighed, “What does it mean then?”

Seth looked up at the circle of friends he had called to his basement bedroom.

“It means we have to go home.”

Willa’s calm voice replied, “You are home.”

“Not my home…Our home.”

And thus, the group ventured out to Camp Little Moose, the old summer camp of their youth. The camp was previously just a memory, having closed down due to financial hardship a few years after they entered high school. The group had to break in at the far end of the woods, scaling a fence marked with no trespassing signs, and traversing the long-since abandoned paths cluttered with pricker bushes and poison ivy.

Willa was the shortest. Mud was welling up at her kneecaps and Rickie had to wrap her long arm underneath Willa’s armpits to ease the burden. Leading the pack, Carson tripped, catching himself on his hands. He stood up, flicking mud off his fingers, and looked at his feet. An overhang of dry land and roots jutted out. The group carefully stepped out of the mud and onto a leaf-covered path. Seth recognized it.

“This is the path up to the lake. We’re almost there.”

“Thank God,” Willa sighed.

It was a quarter mile before the landscape became flat and from there, it was only another mile before they reached the edge of Skeeter Lake. Grass was growing over the edge of the water. The old wooden shed was tilting sharply to the left, the door hanging open on one rusty hinge.

“We have to get in,” Seth explained.

The other three sharply whipped their heads to face him. Anxiety, fatigue, and utter confusion painted their faces. Seth held the package up and continued.

“The voice said Emre Pacheco is dead. He drowned here in 5th grade.”

Rickie shook her head, “So, what?”

“So, that’s the clue.”

“The clue to what?!” Carson shouted.

“To the Hallow.”

Willa was in disbelief.

“You mean the Haggard Hallow? The old man who haunts the woods? Are you serious?”

“He’s real,” Seth insisted, “He came to my cabin window in the dead of night. He told me he knew how to live forever.”

“And what did he say?”

“Nothing. Carson woke up and he ran off.”

Rickie threw her hands up, “So, what? We go swimming?”

Seth shook his head and pointed to the edge of the water. There was a single ivy-covered canoe overturned in the dirt. They flipped the boat and gently eased it into the water. The gang piled in. Carson, the resident athletic, took control of the paddle. Unsteadily, the cramped canoe bobbed along across the calm water.

After 10 minutes, the boat’s hull bumped into a faded red buoy.

“Stop here,” Seth said.

Carson brought the boat to a halt. Seth leaned over the edge of the boat, staring down into the murky water. Willa and Rickie exchanged a concerned look. Carson’s anger was rising.

“What are you doing?”

Seth murmured, “This is it…”

Without a second word, he dove into the water. The boat swayed and rocked, the remaining three trying desperately to steady themselves. They watched the bubbles boil and calm as Seth sunk out of sight. Willa stared down with panicked eyes. 10 seconds passed, then 30, then a minute.

“Carson…” Rickie whined.

Carson’s anger had washed away. Now, fear oozed out. He was bombarded by memories: spending long summer days with Seth, playing with water guns, Seth’s mom bringing them peanut butter sandwiches. He had no reservations. He gingerly rose to his feet and dove in. Rickie buried her face in her hands. Willa held Rickie’s head against her chest, whispering soothing words. Another minute passed.

Rickie pulled her head free.

“Carson!” she screamed in vain.

She lumbered to her feet. Willa caught hold of her shirt.

“Don’t!”

“I have to!” Rickie yelled.

She jumped in, sinking like a stone.

“Fuck!” Willa spat.

She took off her glasses, holding them in a tight wrench in her hand, and threw herself in.

The water was freezing. Plumes of sand and algae floated by Willa’s bleary eyes. She spotted Rickie’s purple jacket and paddled closer. She grabbed her with her free hand. Her vision grew darker as the water deepened. The pressure on her lungs was unbearable. Her face contorted in pain. She felt the blood pounding in her head. She wanted to breathe, to give in, give up. Her grip on Rickie was slipping, but she felt Rickie’s hand tug at her. She looked down, seeing a faint glimpse of Rickie’s red hair before it disappeared. She almost opened her mouth in shock but fought the urge. Rickie pulled her further. She felt dirt surrounding her. She clawed at either side of her, kicking her legs hard. Suddenly, she could see through the water. It was shallow. She heard Rickie emerge and felt herself being pulled up.

She gasped. Rickie stared down at her from a small dirt floor, panting. A height of two feet was carved into the soil above their heads. Willa pulled herself out of the tunnel and onto the solid dirt. Her foot caught on a root and a pile of earth began to crumble beneath her. Rickie snapped into action, yanking her out, and throwing her onto safe ground. They got to their feet and saw a narrow set of dirt stairs leading into darkness. Without warning, the ceiling gave way, covering the tunnel, blanketing the ground in a mountain of earth. The debris stopped falling. Rickie embraced Willa tightly. Tears poured down their faces.

“Hey!”

The voice bounced out from the dark. They looked up to see Carson standing at the top of the stairs.

“Oh shit,” he whispered, seeing the tunnel’s collapse, but shaking his fear off, he continued, “Come this way.”

The two wiped their faces and started up the stairs.

The dirt ceiling gave little clearance. The three walked with their heads bent forward for a few yards of total darkness. Willa uselessly slipped her glasses on. A few feet ahead, a faint glow was emanating from the edges of a plywood board. Carson wrapped his fingers underneath the wood and pulled it back.

Inside was a small cavern. Just beyond the door, Seth stood, beaming.

“I finally found him,” he cooed.

He stepped aside. The tiny room was bare aside for a waning oil lamp hanging on the wall and a small dirt mound where sat a ragged man with a long thin gray beard, wild eyes, missing teeth, and a rail thin frame. His skin had a reddish hue from oxygen deprivation.

Rickie scoffed half in shock, half in fear.

“You’re the H-Haggard Hallow?”

He gave her a gummy smile, “That’s what they call me.”

A metal pipe was jutting down from above him. The Hallow put his lips on the pipe and chuffed air through like a train. Just the sight of an airway made the pressure evident on the gang. Willa was hanging onto Rickie for balance. Rickie’s cheeks were getting red. Carson was sweating. Seth’s eyes were spinning like dreidels. The Hallow spoke.

“You’ll love it here.”

Carson shook his head, “What do you mean?”

The Hallow chortled, rubbing his papery hands together maniacally.

“I’ll only tell her,” he murmured, pointing at Willa.

Willa swallowed, wiping her forehead, as she slowly walked toward him. He grabbed her shirt, groping her with dirty hands as he whispered in her ear. She pushed him away, staggering backward, falling into Rickie’s arms. She screamed.

“No! You just want us to stay and play your creepy bunker game!”

She leapt out of Rickie’s arms and bolted down the corridor. The rest followed.

Rickie asked, “What did he say?”

“He said we have to stay,” Willa murmured.

They quickly reached the end of the stairs but found the soil covering the tunnel was many feet deep with more still falling. Seth tugged on Carson’s collar, pulling him back toward the cavern. The girls followed. The Hallow berated Willa.

“Blabbermouth, big floppy fish blabber lips, you told, you told.”

“I did not!” Willa insisted.

Rickie fiddled with the air pipe, wiggling it. The Hallow sprang at her with his gnarled fingernails. Carson and Seth lunged at him, tearing him away. Carson knelt and held the Hallow’s neck with all his weight.

“I’ll kill you!” Carson promised.

Half squeaking, the Hallow sing-songed, “Doesn’t matter. Dead, alive. Dead, alive. Down here’s the key, up there’s the lock.”

The Hallow hissed out a final breath. Carson got up, staring down at the limp body. Rickie worked on the pipe, spinning it, pulling gobs of dirt down into the cavern. She clawed at the soil, breaking her nails, creating a thin channel up to the surface. She kicked divots into the wall with her sneakers and pushed her way up. Carson ran over and held her up.

Seth finally tore into the paper box. Inside was a small timer. The screen read: 00:10, then 00:09…

“Oh God,” Seth cried.

Rickie made her way through several feet of soil. A ray of cool light hit her face.

“I can see,” she strained, “the moon!”

Filmy specters floated out from the earth’s crevasses – the long dead campers, cavemen, and animals that were laid to rest in the ground over eons of the Earth’s life.

She broke through the surface with a mouthful of dirt. A crossbow bolt nailed her right in the heart. Her torso fell back against the surface. Two men hanging out of a Jeep with a twisted piece of chain link fence on their grill zoomed by, shooting ghouls as they crept up from the earth.

Carson pushed Rickie’s body through the hole and climbed out. He took her in his arms.

“Oh God! Jesus in Heaven!” he cried.

Seth clambered out of the hole pulling Willa close behind him. The ground caved in at the lake’s edge, falling underwater. The soil under all the ground was growing voids. The Earth was crumbling inward.

Willa wiped a crust of dirt from her eye and screamed.

“It’s safer underground!”

Carson looked up with tears streaming down his face.

“What the fuck do you mean?! The ground is caving in!”

“That’s what he said! It’s safer underground!” Willa cried, “He said, It’s safe here, chuffing on the little air pipe and rocking back and forth, eating raw fish from the lake. It’s solitude and peace until the Earth wipes the slate clean. It’s death. Death is better. It’s fucking mercy!”

The ground opened up in a snap, swallowing them whole. Their ragdoll bodies bounced against the inner rock of the earth. Their skulls cracked, necks snapped. Bodies flailed and failed and went limp. Dead, they all fell silently, tumbling head over heels in endless spirals, into the center of the Earth.