It's Wild in Appalachia

Three buddies, a quiet fishing trip, four beautiful days in Appalachia. They were out all morning and most of the afternoon on a rental fishing boat, splitting a thirty pack between them. Three beers made it back, they were proud to say, “the three in their hand”. They would start a fire, it was warm, and one of the friends pulls out a guitar. They sing songs, silly songs, tacky songs, songs they thought they forgot. This was a good weekend, with good friends, the sun sets on their evening. 

In the woods it lurks, something primordial, something primitive. It’s a brisk Georgia October, it doesn't identify that it is October, it just realizes it's hungry. The heat and noise attracts it. There are hunters among these friends, but this thing has hunted since before man crawled from the ocean.  It is smart, it listens, it hears the three friends singing. Take It Easy by The Eagles.

The three friends are having a blast, this fishing trip was a great idea. Eddie was going through a divorce, Bondi was about to move out of state for a new job, and ‘Jam’, well Jam was a free spirit. But even free spirits can play classic rock hits with their friends. 

“Fuckin’ Jam, man, play some Dead.” Eddie slurred shoulder leaning against a tree, taking a piss. Dead referring to Grateful Dead’s Friend of the Devil, something of an anthem for the three friends. Jam had played it twice already. A common occurrence for these three friends. 

The thing from before time began was on the prowl, he could smell their sweet sweat, it could hear the rushing of their blood with each pump of their heart. It was already salivating over rows of razor sharp teeth. Its teeth were meant to tear flesh, and break bones. Tonight was gonna be a rare feast. 

Bondi throws a few more pieces of wood on the fire, the sparks dance in his eyes, as Jam strums along the closing salvo of the three buddies favorite Grateful Dead song. The final chord sustaining in the air for a brief moment, and then silence, aside from the popping of moisture leaving the logs. Before Jam can strum the chords for the next song, which would have been his version of a Willie Nelson cover Stardust, they hear the faint, yet familiar shuffle of leaves in the distance.

As the beast gets closer, its excitement mounts, it can hardly contain itself really. The closer it gets, the less chance of escape they have, and It circled their camp, it listened to their songs, it was ready to eat. It begins to drag its feet, not to some excessive degree, oh no, these were deliberate steps to attract. It will have its way tonight, it will feed off these three men. 

“What the fuck was that?” Eddie was the first to hear it, there were some coyotes out here. Most of the time they avoided people, but if they were hungry enough. There had been some attacks in this area in the past, and there was no God Damn way Eddie would be some statistic released by DNR. “Jam, shut up for a second, did you hear that?”

Jam standing up leaning his right ear out slightly, still holding his guitar by the neck, in his right hand. “Hear wh..” before he can finish a though Eddie puts a hand up, audibly shushing him. Jam is taken aback, but he's frankly a little too drunk to care. Eddie has always been their “paper tiger” and always acted something like their point man. None of them, including Eddie, actually believed that bullshit, but they all played into it none the less. 

“Something's shuffling out there” Eddie is now intently scanning the tree line, he did bring a small handgun with him for protection, but this was a fishing trip, not a hunting trip. So he didn't bring anything that could stop a wild boar, or even worse a bear. He's shuffling over regrets about that now in his mind, but if this divorce taught him anything. It's that Fulton County courts suck, and you can't live with regrets, or his wife. 

The normally reserved Bondi starts taking notice, and walks towards where Eddie is surveying the treeline. Bondi isn't a reactionary man, of the three he is normally the quiet one at a party, or social gathering. Secretly, he's their idea guy, the one who plans most trips, makes the itinerary, and proceeds to have resting “I don't wanna be here face” during all the activities he selected to be a part of. The sportsman’s trips though, those were Eddie, and he actually hated most sportsman activities. He loves his friends though. 

It can see the three friends, their silhouettes dancing in front of the fire in the treeline of the clearing. Years have given it something of a wisdom, it can appreciate the beauty of the moment. Like anyone appreciates a great meal before they eat. It can smell their building anxiety, and craves it. It makes the meat that much sweeter, the blood that much more savory. 

By now, Eddie is checking his handgun, ammo, check, nothing to impede normal operation, check, no heavy sediment, check, 12 round clip fully loaded, check and check and check. He clips a small holster to his side, and holsters the handgun. He feels kind of cool right now, he has a hard time hiding his smile. They're way to drunk for what they're about to deal with. 

In all this time the shuffling had started to get more frequent, and it sounded a whole lot closer from when Eddie shushed Jam earlier. It could just be some deer, braving getting close to their camp. They're kind of remote, it's likely deer haven't had the negative contact with people as frequently as they do back home, and they might get a little closer out here. Eddie though, is fired up by booze, and angry thoughts of his ex, he so doesn't want it to be a deer right now. 

In his head, it's at the most some psycho inbred hillbilly, and at the very least some animal he can target practice with. Either way, he just bought this gun, and he was just drunk enough to have a morbid excitement building up in him. “I am gonna go see what the fuck this is.” Eddie said with a confident bravado that rang true a few things, again, he was way too drunk to be operating a firearm. And also, he had no idea what he was getting into, but only you and I know that. 

Bondi steps forward, Bondi is also drunk, but Bondi isn't the hot head Eddie is.  “Hold up,” he grabs Eddie by the elbow. “we are in Appalachia right now, it's 1:30 Ed, it could be anything.” Bondi as always, a voice of reason to Eddie's drunken impulsivity. “Rushing off into the woods right now is the dumbest thing we could do, you could get lost. This time of night, this time of year, we'd never find you.” 

Bondi is right, people are lost all the time in the woods. Especially in remote areas of Appalachian country like this. Hikers, hunters, dogs, kids, all the time just wander into the woods, and never wander back out. It makes this writer wonder himself, are they always just lost, or do they run into situations such as these out there. Those are other stories, for other times, I assume. 

Eddie just looked Bondi in the eyes, these men had been friends since middle school. Longer than the three of them had been a group in fact. Bondi knew that look meant it was fight Eddie himself, or let him do what he was going to do. Bondi had long stopped fighting Eddie. Eddie had always been the more belligerent  of the three, and as they aged Eddie only got more disagreeable. Bondi found it was easier to play clean up, over refereeing his behavior.

Bondi’s parents never really understood their relationship, Eddie was always a brash kid. Dirty fingernails, unkept clothes, talked a little brazen in front of adults. For a reserved quiet kid like Bondi though, that was what he needed, Eddie was his introduction to the world. Even though they did everything together, side by side,  Bondi still lived vicariously through Eddie. Without Eddie, Bondi might just be a worker bee like his father was. With Eddie, Bondi traveled the country and took in all there was to life.

The primordial thing was still shuffling amongst the autumn leaves, it could smell Eddie’s excitement. This in turn excited it, it knew Eddie's intentions, and craved the struggle, this too would make the meal that much more enjoyable. Most of the men and women it would find were tired and lost, hardly a meal at all. These three men though, they were ripe, this was for it, a buffet. It shook with anticipation.

Jam just stood there, of the three men, he was easily the most scared at all times. Not a frightened man, but he wasn't the first to step in to stop Eddie's nonsense. Oftentimes he was just there to tell the story later. Eddie's excitement though, had drummed up a sort of anxious nervousness in him. What had Eddie so spooked, this isn't exactly the place you want some weird shit to go down. 

Jam squints his eyes into the treeline, trying to make out anything. By now all three men thought they could make something out, but the rustling alone didn't bother Jam. This is Appalachia after all, all sorts of things live out here. Eddie's demeanor though, this divorce was harder on Eddie than Eddie likes to admit out loud. Jam knew those three in the morning phone calls were reserved exclusively for him. Jam being the de facto group therapist, of course.

He was always something of a free spirit. Making a living busking around the southeast, following “the wind and the music, bro” as Jam would often joke on these get togethers. He wasn't what you'd call a hippie, but being the group “artist”, the most traveled, he was certainly the most sensitive and accepting member of their group. So, Eddie and Bondi (ironically in secret from the other) often deferred to Jam with issues that needed a more sympathetic touch. 

Eddie had always been aggressive, he wouldn't always start fights, but he never walked away from them. Jam had hoped that a trip like this, away from the bars or the city, would be calming for Eddie. Taking him away from the hustle and bustle around Metro Atlanta might let him clear his head a little bit. That really hadn't proved to be the case. 

They had a fine time, a great time even, but Jam could see that distance in Eddie's eyes. That look one gets when even though they're present in the moment, their minds are really a million miles away. Eddie was always what they called a ball buster, but the last year or so, Eddie was just down right mean. Twenty years of being friends had earned Eddie grace with Bondi and Jam. But those drunk and disorderly conduct charges were turning into simple battery charges. Jam came to stand next to Bondi, and both men watched their way too drunk friend walk into the woods after god knows what.

Eddie was familiar with the area, he was an avid hunter, not a particularly good hunter, but he could make his way through the woods just fine. If Jam hadn't hated to hunt so much, this easily could've been a hunting trip. This was the very end of Primitive Weapons season. He resents.not sneaking his bow now, Jam could've gotten over his bullshit for one night. It was for this reason that Jam and Bondi stayed. This wasn't uncommon, Eddie getting all worked up, and wandering around for an hour. At least they're in Appalachia, where Eddie couldn’t feasibly get into any trouble. 

The rustling sound seems to have faded off, Jam and Bondi are already relaxing a little bit. Truthfully, neither man is sure they heard the rustling to begin with, they just got so anxious with Eddie getting worked up. Whatever it was out there, a deer foraging, maybe even a raccoon, it was gone now. Raccoons came up to camp sites all the time. They had been out here a few days, who knows what they were attracting. Let Eddie go out there, maybe shoot at some ghosts, come back to camp and sleep it off. They packed up in the morning, the trip was all around a successful run. They landed a few trout, nothing trophy worthy, but this trip wasn't about glory.

 Bondi is the guy who keeps the fire alive at all times. Everything is just a little damp, it had rained heavily the week before. They were able to fashion something of a firewood rack out of some spare timber. That dried out their bigger wet pieces enough that with kindling, and some dry stock they had laying around, they were able to keep the fires going through the evening. Bondi breathes new life into the fire, adding a few of their partially dried logs, and some kindling around the outer edges.

Bondi pulls two beers from the cooler, giving one to Jam who has found a seat by the fire. He then pulls a seat a little closer to the fire and sits himself. The night is getting cold, October in Georgia is a weird time, it can be a warm day in shorts, and then turn around and be a cold night in jackets. Bondi pops the tab on his beer can, takes a healthy drink, shaking his head. He turns towards Jam to speak. 

Eddie was making a decent pace, he couldn't see camp anymore, but he was confident that he was on a small game path that circled back to the clearing their camp was in. More than confident, he knew this game trail led back to camp. He had to come back with something, those two assholes he called friends would never let him live it down. But the rustling was gone, almost the second he stepped out of camp. 

“Fucking ridiculous.” Eddie muttered to himself, he was pissed now. Mostly because he got so worked up at camp, and now he knew he'd look the fool. Bondi and Jam were already up his ass, as soon as Becca delivered the papers. The phone calls, every day, Jam thinks he's Eddie's damn therapist or something. Bondi is always acting like he's Eddie's keeper. Always telling Eddie how to live, slowing down drinking, or  reminding him he has a wife at home when he meets a hot chick on a guy's trip. Fuck, Bondi had become such a prick. 

Becca though, that fucking bitch, she pushed for the couples therapy. She even talked that prick Bondi into talking him into it. The lines of communication had broken down she said, we need to have more honesty. Well, how about Eddie had been fucking every slit with a split, Becca. He knows she's been fucking someone behind his back, he just doesn't know who yet. And when he finds out, Becca, boy is he gonna get something. 

Was that honest enough? No, now she wants a divorce. Eddie really couldn't believe it, he was going to be just like his father. The difference being the abuse his father laid down on Eddie growing up had made it impossible to have kids. So he couldn't exactly be the father his dad was, but he sure as fuck could be the absentee drunk husband. Maybe he should have shared that in couples therapy. 

“You've been fucking Becca, Bondi?” Jam was blown away, Becca was an attractive woman but Bondi and Eddie. That was a bond that was deeper than most brothers. Jam was almost more disappointed in Bondi than anything. Eddie was a piece of shit, but for twenty years, that was their piece of shit. More than that, Bondi wasn't a piece of shit, and even more than that, Bondi was a loyal friend to Eddie. 

No matter what, Eddie stole Bondi’s car for a joy ride, no problem. Eddie gets Bondi beat up because of some bullshit Eddie pulled with the quarterback at school's girl, no problem. Bondi loved Eddie, the idea of Bondi betraying Eddie in any way just wasn't fathomable. Bondi began begging to Jam, for understanding. Bondi needed someone, anyone to tell him he wasn't a horrible person. 

By the time Eddie and Becca discussed couples therapy, Bondi had already slept with her. It was his loyalty to Eddie in the first place, Bondi had basically forced Becca into doing the therapy to save their marriage. Bondi felt more guilty about the affair than anything else, he told Jam. He loved her though, there was no ending it now, especially with the divorce looming. Bondi didn't actually find a new job, he and Becca decided starting a new life out of state would be the best for everyone involved. 

Jam was stunned, more than stunned, he was in shock. He just couldn't get around the simple betrayal of Bondi towards Eddie. It was the three of them against the world, at all times. He knew this was going to be something that changed their lives entirely for the worst. It wouldn't be the three of them anymore, they would be split like parents and children in a divorce. Not to mention, it was both Bondi and Jam as a team that kept Eddie from getting himself killed. The idea of trying to babysit Eddie alone in some bar was kind of terrifying to him. 

Eddie could just make out the orange glow of the fire from camp. Not the flames, or any shapes of the tents or gear, but just the faintest rays of the light through the trees. He fucking knew that game trail lead back to camp. He hears something off to his right, light footsteps. He snaps straight, holding his breath. Instinctively,  he's already removing his gun from the holster. 

He listens harder, he can almost hear the blood flowing in his ears. Was that a twig breaking, it had to be, fuck it he's going off trail. Even in his drunken state he makes note of the camp's location. He may be a piss poor drunk hunter, but he's never not made it back to homebase, not once. Eddie certainly has a drunk’s pride if nothing else. 

He doesn't hesitate, he had brought a battery powered lamp with him, and it casts a decent radius of light. He knew though, as soon as he pulled that gun with intent, the light would only be a beacon for his location. He shuts off the light, plowing forward confidently, he takes his first steps off the trail. 

He steps lightly towards the sound he thinks is shuffling leaves, stepping lightly each step. The leaves have started to leave the trees bare, giving that otherworldly look from the old cartoons. They looked alive like they were reaching out grab Eddie. He felt something lightly graze the back of his neck, it was actually some low hanging twigs. The sensation gave him immediate chills and he sort of lurched forward a step.

“shit.” Eddie quietly whispers to himself, the intensity of sneaking through the woods at night had sort of lended him a sober edge in the moment. Eddie was laser focused, even if he had spooked himself with the trees a little bit. But he knows he hears something up ahead, this time he is a hundred percent sure. He turns back to look, the game trail is out of sight. This time of night, no light, he has visibility of about ten feet.

Eddie has resigned himself to looking foolish. He feels stupid already, he stood there and let himself think himself into a stupor and stormed off into the woods. Now he has to go back, facing the concern of his friends. Listen to all their bullshit, for the millionth time I might add, about “doing dangerous shit like this, especially when you're drinking. Doubly especially when we are hanging out as the boys.”

Fuck them, Eddie didn't need that shit, none the less, he was about to turn around and… “Is that another clearing?” Eddie whispered out loud again. Eddie had developed that habit when he was a kid, talking to himself. It was surely because of the neglect from both his parents. It was though, it was a clearing. It struck him odd, he actually walked all over these woods this entire weekend. Mostly when the guys were sleeping, or having down time. So he felt he was fairly familiar with this area. 

He knew where the downed trees were, the ones they were allowed to chop up for fire. He knew where that random crop of bushes had sprung up, almost like the forest made a private stall for them. He found several deer bedding spots, he could find them now, with his eyes closed. But this clearing, he didn't remember it at all. He checks the safety of his gun and makes his approach. He starts to have a strange sensation in his mouth, and taste, almost like he is sucking on a penny. Another nasty habit he picked up as a nervous kid. 

“It's been almost an hour, you think Eddie is fine out there?” Jam was genuinely concerned at this point, Eddie usually took fifteen minutes, especially with a gun in the woods. He expected to hear Eddie clear the twelve rounds, and come back laughing about it. Eddie was different now though, he wasn't the same Eddie they grew up with. This Eddie was darker, Eddie may have never shied from a fight, but Eddie otherwise was pretty jovial most of the time. This last year had changed Eddie though. 

Bondi told Jam the purpose of those trip was to get Eddie out in the woods, blow off some steam. Jam was due to leave first in the morning, Bondi told Jam that it was this hour alone, where he planned to tell Eddie about his relationship with Becca. Jam thought this was a bad idea, and he said as much to Bondi. For Jam's part, he was really just doing all he could to save his friendships. It was a selfish attempt to keep everything a secret, just that much longer. Bondi though, for all his loyalty to Eddie couldn't live with the guilt anymore. For Bondi, he knew he couldn't carry on with his new life, without Eddie's blessing. It's the curse laid down on a man when he sleeps with his best friend’s wife. 

Eddie came up on the clearing, the moonlight casting a white shine over everything. It was surprisingly bright in here, Eddie could make out everything. The moon casting a high contrast glow over everything, he begins following the perimeter with his eyes. The floor of the clearing was covered in a thick sheet of fallen leaves and dead limbs. Eddie could make out various tracks, and piles of foliage that the local wildlife had dug up. Likely in search of grubs and nuts, a lot of smaller animals will start nesting this time of year. They will gather food, pine needles, garbage, anything really to build a nest. Squirrels are even known to live in small groups to generate warmth. 

Eddie's breath had steadied into a consistent rhythm, a small headache had started to worm its way into the front of his brain. He should've brought a beer, now he was getting a waking hangover. And that's when he saw it, something hunched over, it stood large, definitely five foot, but from this distance it could've been eight foot tall. Whatever it was, it was in the treeline of the clearing just enough, that Eddie couldn't make out any defining features. 

It's on the far side of the clearing, without thought Eddie slowly makes his way across the clearing. Again, each step deliberate, silent, this wasn't his first time sneaking in to get a better shot at something. That, that, thing was slowly moving forward, Eddie squints to try and focus his vision. What is it doing, Eddie has no idea, he just keeps slowly pressing forward. 

Jam can feel his respect for Bondi fading, Bondi was the smart one. He was always the most successful, he went to college, he got the degree. While Jam was busy being a street artist, busking for some spare cash. While Eddie was busy learning to frame houses. Bondi got a nice office job, Bondi regularly made six figures. Hell, Bondi financed this trip, and most trips the boys took together. By far, Bondi of all of them, had his shit the most together. It was for all these reasons that Jam was having a hard time forgiving him for this.

Bondi called it a mistake at first. It wasn't just a mistake though, it was a fundamental betrayal of everything they stood for as friends. It was a fundamental betrayal of everything Jam thought Bondi was as a man. For all of Eddie's flaws, Eddie was still their friend, still their brother. More so, Jam had put Bondi up to a much higher standard. He expected bad behavior and sometimes even encouraged it out of Eddie. It was a laugh a majority of the time, but Bondi, he was supposed to be unwavering in his dedication to everything. He was their rock, for Bondi to break their trust, it shook everything Jam had thought about life to its core.

At the center of the clearing, Eddie noticed a small breeze creeping in. It gave him the chills, it was already a chilly evening, and Eddie didn't think to grab his jacket leaving the warm safety of the fire. And now the thin blanket of drunken warmth was starting to fade. Eddie shivers it off a little, and continues his walk forward. He is moving surprisingly limberly for a man who just walked an hour in the woods after drinking all day. 

The brownish mass is now about ten feet away from Eddie, it's kept itself slightly obscured in such a way that Eddie still can't make out what it is. His curiosity becoming entangled with the slightest threads of frustration. “What the fuck is this thing?” He whispers, leaning forward slightly. 

Eddie has gotten close enough now that he can almost smell it, that not clean, not dirty smell of wild animals. He could almost reach out and touch it. He lifts his arm, and extends it almost without thought. But in his hand isn't his gun, and he doesn't have his fingers extended in an attempt to touch whatever this was, no. He is now holding his breath, curiosity lighting fires in his brain. He turns on the little battery powered lamp he was carrying with him.

Jam was so profoundly hurt, the entire relationship dynamic between the three friends had just been dramatically altered in a single conversation. The idea of being the therapist of the group was totally lost. Jam was pissed the fuck off, did Bondi know how many late night conversations Jam had, had with Eddie. All the talks off the bridge, all the tears and unanswered questions. 

To Jam, it didn't matter that Eddie was an adulterer himself, or that his relationship to Becca was entirely a toxic nightmare. One filled with late night arguments, affairs, and just generally being terrible to each other. Eddie was their god damn brother, this was just unfathomable to him. At some point the conversation died, and Jam stared into the fire incredulously. 

Bondi didn't mean to hurt his friends, he didn't mean to fall in love with Becca. Bondi was the one who lived closest, he was the one who would pick Eddie up from a girl's house, or jail, or the hospital. Bondi spent countless hours with Becca  doing these things. Many mornings after putting Eddie to bed, having conversation and coffee. They bonded at first over mutual frustration at Eddie's behavior. Little jokes about Eddie turned into subtle flirting, flirting turned into kissing, and well, we are all adults here. 

He didn't mean for this to happen, but truthfully, he didn't care that it happened either. He had been Eddie's keeper for so long, he had cleaned up Eddie's messes since the day they met. Fights with strangers, his friends, and even his parents over Eddie. Eddie would steal from Bondi, he even stole an heirloom necklace his grandmother had left his mom when they were kids. It took three months to convince his parents to let Eddie back after that. So, Eddie would just have to forgive him this one thing, he had to. 

The lantern at first blinded Eddie, he had to blink furiously to get the burned image of white out of his eyes. The lumbering unknown stood straight, it was at once beautiful and terrifying for Eddie. With its antlers, all fourteen points of them, perfectly symmetrical it stood six and a half feet at least. Eddie was in awe, he took a deep breath, and looked upon the most beautiful buck he had seen in his entire life. 

They locked eyes, for Eddie and this buck, it maybe seemed like an eternity. In reality, it was maybe a minute, but here they stood, staring into each other's eyes. Eddie felt as if he were looking into the eyes of God. In this moment, all that Eddie had been feeling washed away. The bitterness to his friends, his anger towards his divorce and his father, were gone. In this moment, Eddie felt connected to everything, in the center of that buck's eyes he saw the truth. He would never in a million years be able to explain the understanding, or connection that he was feeling right now. 

The buck broke gaze first, taking a step forward, letting out a small grunt, adjusting itself to run. This movement broke Eddie from whatever trance he was in, and he also took a step back. Eddie however stepped on a small rough of wet leaves and slipped. Eddie was a little off balance already, and unknown to him, a little dizzy. He had held his breath the entire time they locked eyes. Eddie fell firmly on his ass, he felt the forest floor immediately wet the seat of his pants, never losing sight of the buck. The buck showed no interest in his fall, or staying in the area any longer and ran deep into the Appalachian wilderness.

Eddie collected his thoughts for a second, laid back, and then laughed hysterically. Eddie for the first time since before his wife asked to attend therapy, maybe his entire life, felt at peace. He didn't know what that was, what just happened really, but he knew that from this night forward, he was going to be ok. He gathered himself, stood up, and wiped the wet leaves and debris off his back. He scanned the horizon for the orange glow of camp, and found it. He figured it would take him about twenty minutes to get back, he should be able to get enough sleep that they would still make it out of camp on time.

Jam was not at peace, everything about his life was a lie. None of this made sense, and in his drunken stupor, his mind wasn't even trying to make sense of it. Bondi tried to make small talk, Jam was not receiving it. Bondi hinted at maybe going to find Eddie. The idea that Bondi was concerned about Eddie was just insulting to Jam at this point. 

Jam was pacing camp, secretly Jam was always dealing with anxiety. It's part of the reason he chose the life he did, chose the style he did. Casting an outward appearance of a “chill dude” would maybe rub off on his inward feelings about himself. Unfortunately, that's not how life works. Jam was always anxious, always nervous about the future. The one constant being his two friends, he thought that meant something. Apparently for Bondi it didn't, apparently for Bondi it was easy to fuck your friends wife and leave town. Apparently for fucking Bondi that's the easiest shit in the world. 

Bondi was hurt that his friends were hurting, but he also had Becca now, it wasn't just about the feelings of his friends anymore. Bondi is torn, because he does love Eddie, but maybe he does love Becca more. There is a guilt in that for any friend, meeting a girl, moving on with your life. It can be an even heavier burden when that girl is your best friend’s wife. Bondi was lost in the fire now, deep in reflective thought. He had been mourning this friendship since he first slept with Becca. In some ways he was just ready to tell Eddie, and let whatever comes, come. 

Jam had unconsciously picked up his guitar, he loved this guitar. Of all his possessions, which he had few, this was the most prized. For years he played on a cheap Yamaha, but he saved and saved, and he finally got this Gibson J-45 used. It was only fifteen hundred dollars. That might as well have been a bar of gold for Jam, but he pinched all the pennies, and cut all the corners. When the pawn shop attendant pulled it off the wall, Jam actually cried a little bit. This guitar was his baby. 

Jam was so hurt, it just seemed so damn stupid and careless. Just like that their circle was broken, he could fucking kill Bondi he was so mad. Bondi had his head facing down, staring into the fire, he probably felt like a total shithead for what he did, as he should.  He didn't even notice he had raised the guitar like a giant hammer over his head. Jam's eyes had gone black, not that Bondi could see it, but Jam had checked out. 

He brought it down with great force on the back of Bondi’s head. The guitar rang out, a bizarre musical but not, note. Bondi let out a grunt, but before he could even raise a hand to defend himself, Jam came down with the guitar again, and again. Bondi had fallen to his back in front of the fire, Jam standing over him swinging down. 

 The guitar started to splinter under the force. Blood was everywhere, not that either of the men noticed, but they were close enough to the fire that blood was splattering into the flames, making a sinister hiss.  Bondi was no longer recognizable as Jam’s friend. His face bludgeoned, he was a  bloody mess, making strange gurlges and whispers. 

Jam kept swinging until the body of the guitar breaks under the force. The blood pooled on Bondi's face, so much so that it gave off an inkish, black glow in the firelight. Jam in his rage breaks off what remains of the guitar body, leaving the neck joint exposed, it's a gnarled splintery mess. Jam uses the splintered end as a stake, stabbing it into Bondi's throat. Bondi in some primal act of survival reaches out for jam, tries to pull at the neck of the guitar neck. It's a useless gesture of a dying man.

Bondi gurgles, a mixture of blood, and lack of oxygen. Jam keeps pressing, harder, harder, his elbows and shoulders burning. This is a work those muscles have never done. “This motherfucker, how dare you, how fucking dare you!” Jam screamed in his head, he was letting go of all the silent pain and anxiety he had felt for the last twenty years. He didn't even notice how hard he was grunting until he started screaming out loud. Something from deep inside, almost inhuman. 

From Eddie's point of view, he couldn't tell what the hell was going on. Why was Jam smashing his guitar, it was the only thing he actually cared about that he owned. He found his way back to the game trail fairly easily, and it fed right to the main trail. He was close enough to camp, that he was able to hear the open chord hum of the strings coupled with a thud. He thought Jam had dropped the guitar, which honestly wasn't that uncommon. 

His initial reaction was that of joy, his friends were still awake. He could regale them with the tale of the massive fourteen point buck in the clearing he didn't even know was there. How in some way he felt washed of all that pain he had been carrying, that something in that moment changed him. Mostly he was just happy to be alive, and have two friends as good as Bondi and Jam. 

And then he heard the open chord hum and thud again, and again. The hell is that, what's going on over there? By the time he reached camp, the game trail came up behind their tents. In the warm glow of the fire, he could see Jam. What the fuck is he doing, what the fuck is happening? Eddie's mind is spinning, what he is seeing doesn't make any fucking sense. 

He sees Jam swinging his guitar at a prone Bondi's head, he watches Jam break the body off, and stab the neck of the guitar into into Bondi's throat. Jam leans his head back and lets out a wail, a scream from deep within himself. Eddie doesn't recognize the sound, it's as if the voice of the Devil himself reached out of Jam and cursed the heavens.

“JAM, WHAT THE FUCK!” Eddie shouts himself almost into a squeal. By this point Eddie has fully recognized what he is seeing, but his mind somehow hasn't caught up. Eddie for a split second convinces himself the last two hours were a dream. He passed out in his chair by the fire, and dreamed up the entire walk into the woods, the buck in the clearing, and now this horrific scene. 

Jam standing over Bondiz neck of the guitar in his hand, it's covered in the blood of Eddie's best friend. The look in Jam’s eyes is unlike anything Eddie has ever seen. Eddie had been in a hundred fights or more, he had seen men at their absolute worst. The look right now in Jam's eyes, was emptiness Jam was no longer there. Jam spoke no words, there were no words in Jam's mind. 

He steps over Bondi's body, makes a passing glance at his dying friend, and charges Eddie. That wail again, Jam holding the guitar neck over his head like a long spear. He intends to stab Eddie with it, or bludgeon him with it, Jam can't decide. The only thoughts in his head are hatred, and anger. Something has washed over Jam. Eddie has no time to think, only react. 

He had taken several shooting courses, he wasn't the best shot, and he was a bit of a drunk, so all the practice helped. Some of his teachers were former police officers, and military personnel. the first lesson in defensive shooting he was ever taught, shoot until they stop, or the gun goes click. 

Eddie fires the first shot and it misses, Jam is a moving target, and Eddie didn't have a lot of time to line this shot up. They were about twenty feet apart, it didn't take Jam one second to clear half that. Jam charged through the next nine, adrenaline and alcohol helped that. The last shot though, was enough, the momentum of Jam running actually carried Jam to Eddie's feet. Somewhere in Eddie's mind he had a flashback of Jam sliding into first during a neighborhood baseball game as kids. For a split second Eddie thought he saw his friend behind Jam's eyes, only a second. 

It didn't take Jam long to die, basically as soon as Jam hit the ground. Eddie stood there looking down at the friend he had just killed, his mind swirling in confusion. What the hell is going on, why the hell did he just kill Jam? He hears a choking noise by the fire, it's Bondi. The sound is that of someone who is choking and trying to vomit at the same time. 

Eddie walks to Bondi kneeling at his friend's side, he reaches for Bondi's hand. He squeezes his friend's hand, Eddie is already hysterical, Bondi actually squeezes back. Bondi’s vision is blurry, one eye is completely useless, his orbital bone around it crushed, and the ocular nerve severed. He is slowly choking to death, he will die by this fire. He tries to speak, he tries to tell Eddie he is sorry, and beg for forgiveness. But it's just a gargled mess, a nasty blend of saliva, mucus, and blood pouring from his mouth. 

“Don't try to talk, man, just, just be quiet.” Eddie struggles against the tears, a wave of grief building in him. They sit there, hand in hand for ten minutes before Bondi slowly stops breathing. Eddie tells Bondi stories from their childhood, cherished moments between the three friends, and some private ones they never shared with anyone but each other. Bondi died with a single thought, he knew he was right about Eddie all along, Eddie truly was his brother. 

When Bondi shed his mortal coil, Eddie dug out a flannel of his own to drape over Bondi's body. It was Eddie's flannel, but it was one of Bondi's favorites, he borrowed it all the time. He could take it with him into the after life. Eddie went to the cooler and grabbed three beers, opening one for each of his fallen friends. He placed one next to each man, and one in the cup holder of his chair next to the fire. 

He went to his handgun case and retrieved a box. He sat in his chair sipping from his bottle, he meticulously loaded twelve rounds into the magazine, one by one by one. When he loaded twelve rounds, he slammed the clip stiffly into the gun. Between each step he takes a sip of his bottle, he points to the west, shoots, sips. He points to the east, shoots, sips, north, shoots, sips, south, shoots, sips. He fires off eleven shots, finishing his beer. 

His friends are gone, he has been estranged from his father for fourteen years, and his wife has left him, he has nothing to grab on to. For the first time in the last twenty years, there is no Jam to console him, no Bondi to come and save the day. Eddie felt completely, and hopelessly alone. Eddie wouldn't make it out of those woods, he was the survivor of the Appalachian Massacre, but nobody knows that story really. Not until I told it to you here. He would swallow the end of his gun that night, the twelfth and final bullet reserved for himself. 

For hundreds of years there have been folk tales around these parts. Stories of ghosts, demons, and other untold horrors from all over this mountain. Stories of beasts that poison your thoughts, turn you against your loved ones so it can feed on your psychic energy. Maybe that's what happened here, maybe that thing poisoned their minds, and fed off whatever negativity it bred in them. Maybe. 

Or maybe Eddie imagined everything, standing in that tree line, drunk, pissed off, he needed something to take his frustrations out on. An thend in his brief psychosis he unlocked something in all of his friends, something sinister and dark. Something that took the lives of all three men. 

Maybe even still, maybe sometimes we put certain people on pedestals. Sometimes people are relying on them in ways they don't even know. That they're held to a standard that is impossible to meet, and when they fall from that standard, we eat them alive. Is that what happened with Jam, Bondi, and Eddie? Maybe it's all those things, dear reader, maybe indeed. 

All I know for sure, is that cold October night in Appalachia three friends died. Their families are left confused, and with many unanswered questions. Questions they'll never get the answers to. Some of those answers can be found in this story, but some of those answers even I don't know. I can't explain why men do the things they do. I can't explain how we all come from the same place, buried in the same holes, but we still can't find it in ourselves to love one another.

Maybe those answers will come in the next story.