Marcus Woolley, a Welsh/British horror writer now based in Taiwan, has been crafting tales since childhood. A lot of his stories are inspired by Welsh/British culture but these days he has delved into writing about other parts of the world. He is currently working on a Taiwanese horror novel, that should be done later in the year.
DESERT EYES
by
Marcus Wooley
No one believed me, and then it happened again. I make this drive between the two Nevada towns of Sunbridge and Dustwood once every month, dropping deliveries off to the desolate town with an old wild west vibe, just nestled in the foothills of the Rockies. I couldn’t understand why anyone would want to live there. Perhaps it’s the allure of the past that draws them - the rugged charm of a bygone era clinging to the weathered facades of Dustwood’s buildings, or the stories that lingered in the dust-choked air. Yet, as I navigate the winding desert road that leads to this forgotten corner of the map, a sense of unease settles over me like a shroud.
You see, last month, when I drove my old, red Chevrolet truck in the middle of the night, listening to some Hank Williams Jr tunes on the CD player that is still installed inside, I remember feeling a sense of unease. Though I could not see more than a few meters in front of me, the desert at night being just as dark as the middle of the ocean, I could have sworn on my ma’s life that I could see a pair of growing, orange eyes staring at me from the rear-view mirror. At first, I thought it was another vehicle, some late night driver, just like myself, though I couldn’t think of any reason why anyone would be driving out here. For the best part of my journey, I ignored them. The dirt road to Dustwood was coming up ahead in a matter of minutes, and the vehicle behind would drive on toe the next town of Spring Junction, a slightly populated place about an hour and a half down the road.
The small arrow pointing sign for Dustwood had appeared. I turned on the blinker and made a right onto the dirt road. I drove past dried shrubs that scratched the edge of my truck and rocked over small rocks, avoiding the big ones so I don’t get any damage out here. I minded my own business when all of a sudden, I could see the two orange glows behind me. They had turned in the direction of Dustwood. Now, what I found strange about this is that I knew everyone in the town; nobody owned a car, they kept to their horse and cart tradition. All of a sudden, the truck got stuck. In my distraction, a large rock got caught under the truck, causing my wheels to do a frantic spin, casting out a horrid sound in the silence. I looked at the mirror again; the orange lights were getting close. ‘Maybe they can help,’ I had thought at the time.
I thought I should keep pressing on the gas until they arrived. After a few minutes, I watched as the lights came closer, but a sinister feeling came over me. There was something about them that just made me feel uncomfortable. I remember my ma always saying, ‘trust your gut,’ and my gut was telling me to get the hell out of there. I got out of the ruck and looked under’ I could see the rock, the pointed top of it was jamming the central part. I had a jack in the truck, so I got it and set it under, slowly lifting the truck from the ground. Those lights were still getting closer. They didn’t move like it was a car. I got my grip on the rock, but it was a little hard to move; I had to dig away at the sand just to loosen it. Digging my fingers into the dirt, I did my best to make a small hole. Out of sheer strength that came from nowhere, I managed to roll the rock into the hole, which allowed enough inches to drop ot let my truck pass over.
The lights were still getting closer. In two minutes, they were going to be next to me.
I threw the jack into the back seat and restarted the engine; Hank Williams Jr began to play again, singing his song, ‘A Country Boy Can Survive.’ I started to drive, flicking my eyes up to the rear-view mirror, but the lights were gone’ they had disappeared into the desert darkness. With a sigh of relief, I turned my eyes to the road ahead. All of a sudden, I slammed my truck to a halt; a dust cloud swooshed around me. The two orange glows of light now stood in front of me, the size of them were three times the size of my truck; two black lined pupils stared at me, like snake yes. They slowly grew bigger with each passing second. I could hear a scream from nowhere rattle my eardrums, like a whistling kettle screaming that the tea is done. I clasped my hands around my ears and watched as the eyes grew closer and bigger before me.
I blacked out…
I woke up, I don’t know how long I was out, but I had come to the last song of the CD. The electrics of the truck were turned off, and I sat alone in the darkness of the desert. For a moment, I thought it was just a dream; I must have pulled over and slept. Anyway, I dropped off the delivery to Dustwood, placing it in their little church with a man and his rather large cowboy hat; he signed the paper and I made my way.
I had told my pa about it; he chuckled and laughed and said, 'Boy, you been hittin’ that devil’s lettuce out in the desert?' He slapped my back. Anyway, I saw them again, this time, they looked angry. I still don’t know what they want from me. I no longer make that trip. I changed my job and now work at the local fix’er up garage. But I can still see those eyes, haunting me.