Chapter 6

Terror gripped Jennifer. She tried to struggle, but he was too strong. His arms around her felt like steel bands.

A voice spoke in her ear, and she felt the breath of the speaker.

“Don’t struggle. It’s just me.”

When she realized it was Bobby, her emotions flared. Profound relief washed through her, but there were other emotions as well. There was a measure of righteous indignation about what her schoolmates had done to his property, and the urge to tell him about that. But there was also a generalized excitement born of just being happy it was him. At some point she noticed that the hand that trapped her against him was pressed on top of her right breast. Without a bra on, she could feel the heat of that hand, and her imagination told her how rough the skin was, moving across her sensitive nipple. They were both still moving, if only small amounts, but that movement was felt quite clearly in that region of her body. It never occurred to her it might not be accidental. Even though they barely knew each other, there was a special bond between them. Basically, as far as Jennifer was concerned, Bobby could do no wrong.

So she ignored the hand. Sort of. There was an urge to whirl around and confront him. But she stayed still ... and that hand stayed where it was. The other one pulled slowly away from her mouth.

“Where did you come from?” she said in a loud whisper.

Again his breath caressed her ear as he spoke.

“My mother went to a hospital and had me there.”

She did whirl then, unaware that he must have let her turn, since he had pinned her quite effectively before.

“You know what I mean!” she hissed.

“I told them I was leaving. They said I couldn’t. I reminded them this was America, so they discharged me. I came home.” He spoke in his normal voice.

“How did you get here?” she insisted. “I took you to the hospital!”

“In my truck?” His head tilted and his eyes reflected the light from the bonfire.

“Oh,” she said, feeling foolish. “Yeah. I forgot.”

Then he was all business. “You need to go home.”

“But they’re trashing your house!” she said, almost jumping up and down.

“I’ll handle that. You go home. This could be dangerous.”

“This could be dangerous,” she aped in a sarcastic, high voice. “And you think you can handle a dozen drunk kids all by yourself? That’s what would make it dangerous.”

“I’m not going to argue with you, Jennifer,” he said. “You have no business being here. Go home. Call the police and tell them a bunch of kids are vandalizing my property. That’s the best thing you could do.”

“Justin Davis has your gun!” she blurted.

“My rifle?”

“Yes. He was shooting it earlier. I heard it. That’s why I came.”

“How many shots did you hear?”

“I don’t know. Two, maybe?”

“Okay. Good. I’m glad you told me. That means four left, at the most. I don’t think he’d be able to find the ammo in the house.”

“I don’t know,” she said. “They were inside. I heard things breaking.”

The look that came over him then was more than just his face, and it looked so dangerous that Jennifer actually stepped back from him.

“Go home,” he said.

“But -”

“I said go home!“ he growled.

Then he backed up and ran to her left. In seconds she couldn’t see him anymore.

All she could hear was the shouts and laughter of the kids, and the crackling if the bonfire.

She did not go home.

Again, she climbed a tree, but this time she picked one she knew would give her a good view of the house and its environs. She couldn’t find a place that prevented the firelight from flickering across parts of her body, but she was pretty sure none of the kids would see her. Most of them were drunk or stoned, and with the girls naked, the boys weren’t looking up in the trees.

What seemed like an hour went by, during which she didn’t see The Hermit. Her watch had a button on it that illuminated the face, though, so she knew it was really only fifteen minutes. Still, she wondered what he was doing.

She found out when, quite boldly, he emerged from the darkness, his arms full of something, and approached the fire. She watched in awe as what could only be clothing ... a lot of clothing ... was tossed negligently onto the leaping flames. Then he casually turned and walked back into the darkness.

“What the fuck?” Jennifer heard a boy say. She thought it might have been Brad. He was on top of Cheryl, his buttocks rising and falling. They were on a blanket right next to Jerry and Haley, who were doing exactly the same thing. Apparently the guys on the football team liked to do more together than just play ball.

“What the fuck what?” asked Jerry.

“Somebody just threw something on the fire,” said Brad.

“We’ve been throwing stuff on the fire all night,” said Jerry. His hips never stopped their up and down movement. Haley’s heels tapped gently on the back of his thighs, and her hands gripped his waist, helping him keep up the rhythm.

“No ... this was different,” said Brad. “It was somebody who was wearing clothes.”

“What? No fucking way,” laughed Jerry. “Nobody is getting dressed. This party isn’t over yet.”

“Oh yes it is,” whispered Jennifer. She grinned.

A yell came from behind the house. It was a male voice and it sounded like it said “Owww! Shit! That fuckin’ hurt!“ It was hard to tell because there was a female scream - the blood curdling type - that tried to drown him out. The scream kept going and Robin Highland suddenly appeared, running full speed, her arms and hands waving as she screamed over and over. She tripped over something and went sprawling on her naked front. Jennifer winced as the girl slid a good five feet along the forest floor. Then Justin appeared, trying to run and look over his shoulder at the same time. He also tripped, but rolled and came up still running.

“What the fuck!?” yelled Brad again. He pushed up off of Haley and Jennifer watched his shiny penis pull out of the girl, who was craning her neck, trying to see what was going on.

“There’s somebody fucking back there!“ yelled Justin. He was in a crouch, his head swiveling, looking back toward the rear of the house.

Robin continued to scream, except now she was rolling around in the leaves, touching her front all over with her hands, where things hurt. Other kids began to appear, calling out, asking what was going on.

“Somebody in the woods!” yelled Justin. He suddenly stood stock still and looked down at the back of his legs. He reached to touch his calf with one finger, and pulled it up to his nose.

“The motherfucker pissed on me!” he screamed.

Now Robin started wiping at her own legs, screaming “Oooo, oooo, oooo, get it off of me! Oooo, oooo.”

Brad stalked over to Robin and leaned down. “Shut up!” he yelled. Her hand went to cover her mouth, but she had the hiccupping sobs, and couldn’t do anything about it. Jennifer almost felt sorry for her. It was obvious she was terrified. Brad then went to Renee’s car and reached in to turn the music off. The woods were suddenly silent again.

“Tell me what happened,” said Brad, his voice still too loud from being used to talking over the music.

“A guy,” said Justin. “Robin was blowing me, getting me up again. The rifle was right beside us. I saw a hand grab it and pick it up, and then the shape of this guy. It was dark. And then he pissed on us! He fucking pissed all over us!”

“What guy?” growled Jerry.

“I don’t know! It was fucking dark, man! He slapped me too.”The boy’s hand came up to his cheek and rubbed it.”So somebody is out there fucking with us,” said Jerry. “One of you told somebody we were coming out here, didn’t you?” He looked around. “Somebody just had to brag, and now we’ve got some punk ass prankster playing games with us!” He looked around, out into the dark. “You may as well come on in!“ he yelled. “We know you’re out there. I hope you brought your own booze, cause we didn’t bring extra.“

Nothing happened. One of the girls - Jennifer thought it was Anita Craft - said “I don’t like this, Andre. I want to go home.”

Jerry shook his head. “Nobody’s going home,” he said. He yelled into the dark again. “Nice joke. You had your fun. Now come on in and have a drink. Join the party.“

“Hey!” said Charlene Hatrup. She was standing by Jason Marshal’s car, staring through the open door. “Where are my clothes?”

A new voice broke the sudden silence. “There was an accident. Your clothes fell in the fire.”

The Hermit of Scarecrow Valley stepped into the firelight. His right arm dangled, that hand loosely holding the receiver of the same rifle that Justin had been shooting earlier. “All your clothes fell in the fire,” he added, looking at the stunned faces of the gathered kids. “You all need to leave. You’re trespassing.”

What made it all so odd for the assembled kids was that the man spoke almost softly. They all knew who he was. Some had even caught a glimpse of him before, when he was on one of his infrequent trips to town. But he wasn’t the deranged maniac they expected. He wasn’t screaming, or waving the gun around, and they all just stood there, shocked.

“Go on,” said the not-so-fearsome hermit. “Go on home, before I decide to call the sheriff.”

“You fucking burned our clothes?” Jerry’s voice was harsh.

“It looks like you played fast and loose with my property,” said the man, his voice still calm. “Seemed like a fair trade.”

“You fucking burned our clothes?“ yelled Jerry. “My keys were in my jeans!“

“I’m sure you have a spare set at home,” said The Hermit.

“My billfold was in my pants!“ gasped Jason Marshal.

“Mine too!” came other yells.

“Now that’s a real shame,” said The Hermit. “You know, it occurs to me that if you were still wearing your pants, you wouldn’t have this problem.”

“My driver’s license is in my billfold!” howled a boy.

“My dad’s credit card is in mine!” yelled another.

A stunned silence overcame the clearing as teenaged boys tried to remember exactly what was in their billfolds. The girls weren’t involved, because they had all left their purses in Charlene’s trunk.

“You can’t do this,” said Jerry in the silence.

“It’s already done,” said the man everybody called The Hermit. He gestured with the rifle. “Now ... get your stuff and get off my property.”

“But we’re naked!” squealed a female voice.

“You chose to get that way,” pointed out the man.

“There’s no bullets in that gun,” said Justin. “I shot them all. I say we shove that fucking rifle up his fucking ass!“

“I wouldn’t recommend trying that,” said the man. His voice was so calm and so mellow that it raised the hairs on the back of most of the kids necks.

“Well I don’t give a flying fuck what you recommend!“ shouted Justin, who started stalking toward The Hermit.

The rifle seemed to float upwards as Bobby’s hand changed locations. Now his finger was on the trigger, and before any of them could do more than open their mouths, the rifle went off. A blast of fire left the muzzle and the sound wave slapped into all the kids. A stick, about two inches in diameter, and directly between Justin’s feet, exploded and wooden shrapnel flew up and peppered his thighs, scrotum, and hanging penis. He thought his dick had been shot off, and he screamed, grabbing his groin with both hands and falling to the ground.

Girls screamed. Guys let out instinctive groans, and more than one reached to cover his own exposed genitalia. But Jerry Williams had seen where the bullet hit.

“Get up,” he growled. “You’re not hurt.” He looked at The Hermit. “This isn’t over, hermit man.”

“It needs to be over,” said Bobby. “You won’t like it if it isn’t over. I can pretty much promise you that.”

“I shot all the bullets,” whined Justin, pulling at his penis and balls, trying to examine them.

“Why would you think I only have six rounds for my rifle?” asked The Hermit, sounding like he might actually be interested in the answer.

Renee scampered to the driver’s door of her SUV. She started to get in, and then stopped, looking at her left rear tire.

“There’s an arrow in my tire!” she yelled. “He shot my tire with an arrow!”

It was at that point that Jennifer realized Renee’s boyfriend, Mike Nelson, wasn’t with her. She looked at the group. He wasn’t there either. As if on cue, she saw movement to her right, behind The Hermit. Mike was sneaking from tree to tree. In his hands he held part of a tree limb, about the size of a baseball bat. The fire, and the noise being made by talking apparently screened the noise he was making with his bare feet on the leaves.

“Get off my property,” said Bobby, his voice louder now. “There’s a tow truck in town. You can have him come get your cars tomorrow. If any of you have a flashlight in a car, you can take that. But your eyes will adjust to the dark before you get to the highway. I’d hurry, though, and make as much distance as you can before the things that like the dark come out and start hunting.”

There actually wasn’t much in the way of any nocturnal hunters that could harm the teens, or even that would take any interest in them, for that matter. But they didn’t know that. While they were located in wild country, they still lived in town. And the girls didn’t like the sound of what he’d said.

Jennifer watched Mike sneak to within fifteen feet of Bobby. She started to yell, but then nocked an arrow and drew her bow instead.

Mike was hiding behind a big oak, trying to peer around the left side of it. He was getting ready to make a dash. This was the first time he’d gotten into Renee’s panties, and if he could take out the fucking hermit, he’d be the hero of the day. Renee would give him all the pussy he could ask for if he pulled this off. He gripped the stick harder and moved his left foot carefully to the side.

An arrow thunked into the tree trunk, even with his eyes, and only a foot from his hand. The shaft of the arrow vibrated, and his eyes vibrated too, as he stared at it. The aluminum shaft made an eerie sound before coming to a stop. He didn’t even realize he’d lost control of his bladder and was peeing until some of his urine splashed off the tree and splattered back on him.

“Fuckin’ shit!“ he yelled in a cracking voice. He was unable to control his voice, too. “Fuckin’ shit!“ he squealed again. His hands shot up into the air and the club sailed several feet away. Renee’s pussy was forgotten. “I give up!” he yelled. “Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot.”

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The Hermit of Scarecrow Valley

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