Roads To Hell: A Horror Anthology

Part 4 - The Saint of Flies

The body was vaguely human shaped; the sagging pale flesh distended in various places, stretched by gasses released as the body slowly decomposed. It was lying in the shade of an overhanging cliff face, much cooler than the sun-scorched earth outside it. It was high summer, in the middle of New Mexico and the corpse had been there for God knows how long, but it had yet to putrefy.

Tyler saw it first. He'd seen movement out of the corner of his eye – maybe a coyote scared off by their loud footsteps – and spotted the trail below. More of an animal track, it looked barely used.

"Hey. Hey!" Tyler shoved Enrique, who was taking pictures of petroglyphs on his phone. "Let's go down there. I saw something. Coyote maybe. C'mon!"

Enrique looked away from the geometric symbols carved into the flat rock next to the path and pointed at the large red warning sign. "That trail's closed. Probably a rock fall."

"So?" Tyler ducked under the sign. "I don't see any rangers. Do you? Hey, Johnny! Get over here."

John and Enrique watched as Tyler scrambled down the steep rock face, half sliding on his right side. Small rocks tumbled down around him and he scraped the palms of his hands on some sharp edges. The other two boys peered over the edge.

"Damn!"

Enrique lent out further, "You okay?"

"Ripped a hole in my Goddamn jeans!"

"Oh," he paused. "So what's down there?"

"Nothing. There's noth-" Tyler stopped and moved further down the track, disappearing under an overhang and out of view.

"What?" Johnny yelled. "What is it?"

They waited a tense minute, punctuated by the distant caws of rail thin crows perched on a desiccated branch above them. The mournful, almost mocking, cries were accompanied by the constant, incessant hum of cicadas. They had seemed so loud at first, but now it was just background noise for the boys. They ignored it and chucked a few pebbles half-heartedly at the annoying birds.

"Tyler! What the fuck is it?"

"Seriously Tyler!"

Then Tyler was back, cheeks flushed and eyes glinting with unsuppressed glee. In one hand he held a stick; the other he used to shade his eyes as he looked up at his friends.

"I-I found something! Get down here! You gotta see this!" His voice cracked on the last word and he coloured, but the boys didn't say anything.

Johnny was already clambering over the edge and Enrique put a hand on his arm. "My dad said to stay on the trails. If we get caught and a ranger calls him-"

But the boy shrugged out of his grip and slid down the rockface on his bum. Enrique let out a long-suffering sigh and followed. Even though Tyler was the oldest and was already driving, Enrique felt like the voice of reason most of the time.

"Over here!" Tyler's voice echoed oddly, sounding almost metallic.

Enrique found Johnny and Tyler where the track was narrowest. Something had caused part of the rockface to crack and fall away; probably a combination of time and rainwater. There was a narrow opening and Johnny was waiting half-in and half-out.

"In here!" He disappeared when Enrique got close enough.

The last boy squeezed his shoulders through the arrow-shaped opening. It was widest at the bottom so he bent his knees and head slightly, dark curls becoming coated in clay dust as he forced his way through.

Inside the two boys were standing over a dead body. Enrique covered his mouth and started to gag before he realised there was no smell. The corpse was pale and bulging and mottled purple but there was no stench of putrefaction.