Marco... (A Short Story)
The cold rain began to fall harder, washing what was left of Jill’s makeup from her face. Normally, the self-conscious 27-year-old blonde would be concerned about that but as she stopped running, both to catch her breath and to examine the slash on her arm that was gushing blood, it was the furthest thing from her mind.
She knew she shouldn’t have stopped. Her life depended on her running or at least walking. However, her head was already starting to feel light, and she wasn’t going to get much further if she didn’t get the blood loss under control. Removing her jacket, which wasn’t doing anything to keep her warm anyway, she rolled it up and, with difficulty, wrapped it over the wound.
Jill was about to begin running again when she heard the terrifying voice overtop the sound of the raindrops.
“Marco!”
Tears began to run down Jill’s face as she covered her mouth. Her legs were frozen, as though glued to the ground and an overwhelming urge to respond filled her body. Jill was only able to fight the latter off for only a few seconds.
“Polo!” She responded. The word coming out of her mouth involuntarily.
Moments later, she let out a pained scream as a towering figure wearing shredded slacks, a brown, deer-skin jacket and a green blindfold appeared from behind her. Rushing past in one motion, the figure left a gaping gash on her right leg.
Jill’s head once again became dizzy, almost causing her to black out from the shock but, with her legs free once again, she began to run. She didn’t know what direction she was going, she just knew she needed to move or she would lose her life like the others.
“The others,” she managed to think in a fever-like craze. “What a way to refer to my friends. What a way to refer to Mike.”
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It had been Mike who had convinced her to come with him to a rented cabin on the eerily named Widowed Bride Lake. For him, traveling to the remote cabin, away from all the distractions of everyday life and spending time with their four friends, Jasmine, Mindy, Dave and Chuck, was a way to try to rekindle the spark that had been fading after two years of being together. Jill, on the other hand, had thought of it as a final memory together before she broke up with him, knowing there were just too many outside factors making their relationship beyond saving.
It had been Chuck, a man who was the perfect combination of prankster and nerd, who had brought up the legend of Widowed Bride, a farfetched story of a newly-wed groom, Jebediah Crow, who had died on what was supposed to be his honeymoon in the 1960s and now haunted the woods surrounding the lake.
“He was a well-known outdoorsman and game player,” Chuck had said. “Everything from card games to physical games and never losing. He and his bride, along with some of their wedding party, decided to play a game of Marco Polo in the woods surrounding the lake. Some say his foot slipped and he hit his head on a rock before falling into the lake and drowning. Others say his wife and best man, who had been having an affair, killed him and made it look like an accident. Either way, his restless soul remains, seeking those who will continue the game with him. However, once you start, you can’t stop moving. He will strike you down if you do.”
Jill had been one of the friends who was skeptical of the legend, quick to point out the game, if it had been on land as the story claimed, was more likely to be referred to as Blind Man’s Bluff. Chuck, who had been drinking and was always quick to argue when drunk, convinced their friends to find out for sure - playing the game and inviting Jebediah to join them.
It was something that had been meant to be a good time. Nobody, including Chuck, really believed Jebediah existed.
Now, only three hours after extending that invite, Jill was the only survivor.
When Mindy died, Jill thought the screaming from the woods was nothing more than a sick joke. Mindy by herself was a serious person. When around Chuck, she was his go-to stooge, willing to sneak up behind someone with a pie or pretend to be brutally slaughtered to liven up his ghost story. That’s why, when Jill and Mike found Mindy’s body several minutes later, Jill didn’t believe her friend was dead, even as she saw Mindy’s inside spewed onto the ground.
Mindy had not, as they later learned, been the first to die. Jasmine, who had decided to go into the cabin to use the bathroom soon after the game started, had been equally slaughtered with her screams unheard. It wasn’t until Chuck’s death that she began to understand.
At first, Jill thought Chuck was just going mad with overwhelming grief or that he had snapped and was the killer. He had been standing silently over Mindy’s corpse when he suddenly shouted out the word “polo” before looking over at her and Mike with terror in his eyes. Moments later, Jebediah sprung out from behind a tree and left a gash across Chuck’s chest. By the time her friend had a chance to grasp the situation, he called out “polo” again and, this time, was slashed across the throat.
Mike, grabbing her arm, pulled her toward the cabin and once inside, locked the door behind them. Jill found Jasmine’s body as he was struggling to get a signal on his phone. She now realized her movement had likely saved her from being the next to die because before she could let out a scream over yet another friend’s death, Mike was calling out “polo” behind her and, seconds later, crying out as Jebediah emerged from a closet and stabbed him in the stomach.
“You need to run,” Mike had told her. “Keep running until you can’t anymore and then push yourself to move even further. I’ll do what I can to keep him busy until you can get away.”
Jill wanted to stay but fear and hopelessness made her obey.
She didn’t know for certain how much longer Mike survived. She just knew both he and Dave were dead when she tripped over the latter, causing her to pause. Jebediah, no longer occupied with her boyfriend, called out “Marco” to her for the first time seconds later. She had involuntarily answered and got the deep wound on her arm as a result.
The wet leaves made a crunching sound under Jill’s sandals as she half-ran, half dragged herself through the dark woods, barely able to see what was ahead of her and fearing she’d either slip or trip. Jill knew the noise she was making didn’t matter. As long as she was moving, she was safe. Once she stopped, whether voluntarily or involuntarily, he would call out to her again and she, like earlier, would be forced to respond.”
Jill placed a hand on her leg wound and felt the blood, much like with her arm, gushing out from the deep laceration. It was not unlike how Mike died. He was still breathing when she left because Jebediah chose to stretch out the game with him and cut him at least three times by the time she got out of the cabin. Jill knew there was no set rule with that. Mindy and Dave had died from just one cut. Chuck from two. Jasmine had more wounds that Jill had been able to count and must have been tortured. Sharing Jasmine’s fate is what Jill feared most.
It ultimately didn’t matter though. Feeling weak from blood loss already, Jill knew she was going to die if she didn’t get help.
Despite the abundance of caution, the darkness won out and Jill soon stumbled and fell forward. A nearby tree had kept her from falling to the ground but to Jill’s dismay, it had stopped her momentum as well.
“No, no, no,” she whispered, crying from fear and frustration.
“Marco!” Jebediah’s voice called.
“Polo,” Jill said with a whimper, too weak to fight it.
She then screamed in pain as Jebediah’s blade left a long cut on her lower back and a desperate Jill, finding it even harder to see with tear-filled blue eyes, began to move again, forcing herself forward at a much slower but still steady pace.
A few hundred feet and what seemed like an eternity later, her heart leapt when she was able to make out the silhouette of another cabin not far from her. The lights were turned off but two cars parked outside it let her know it was occupied. With renewed energy, she began moving faster, determined to call out for help as soon as she was close enough.
However, her weakened body failed her, causing Jill to crash belly first on the ground. Rolling onto her back, she stared up at Jebediah as he stood a couple feet away.
Then, just as he was about to call out, a thought entered Jill’s mind. It was a desperate thought, possibly even a silly one caused by the blood loss, but she tried it just the same.
“Fish out of water,” she said, first weakly, then with a surge of anger. “Fish out of water! The game’s over!”
Jebediah remained still and silent, clutching his long blade in his right hand as he pondered her words.
Then, to Jill’s surprise and relief, he turned around and quickly vanished into the darkness.
Rolling back onto her stomach, she began to crawl toward the cabin with the rocks and sticks poking into her bare legs and through her shorts and t-shirt. The pain from her wounds was still there but was lessening as her body grew colder, both from the rain and her blood loss, reminding Jill her life was still in danger, even with Jebediah gone.
Finally, with one last burst of desperation, she pulled herself back to her feet and stumbled forward to the cabin’s porch, pounding on the door as she leaned against the wall for balance and screamed for help. Jill then stood trembling as she saw a light turn on and heard footsteps from inside.
Jill wondered if anyone would believe her story. She never got the chance to find out.
Before the cabin’s occupant could answer, she felt a cold breath on the back of her neck, followed by a hand on her shoulder.
“Marco,” Jebediah whispered into her ear.
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