An hour later the rain still hadn't made up its mind and had moved on. Sheet lightning stroked the hillsides instead, but there was no thunder to shake up the stillness.

"I hope you realize what's going to happen," Bradley said.

Leslie was almost finished wrapping his hands with strips torn from the bottom of her flannel shirt. God they hurt like hell. He could see the bloodstains soaking through the worn plaid fabric.

"That's if we get out of here alive." said Roach.

"Come on man. Take the cuffs off, Bradley." Duncan pleaded for the hundredth time.

"No, you're gonna stay put until I come back with some help."

Bradley stared down at his nearly useless hands and cringed. He'd ordered Leslie to cuff Duncan and Roach together, looping the short length of chain through the bumper of the truck. It hadn't crossed their minds to take his automatic when he was down, but he wasn't surprised. The boys looked like two skinny dogs tethered to a tree. Bradley pulled himself up and leaned against Leslie's shoulder.

"It will be too late for help," said Leslie, her eyes scanning the ground for creeping saw tooth.

"Nonsense."

"You don't know that."

"Thanks for the bandages, little lady, but now I have to put you in a safe place."

He grabbed Leslie's arm and twisted it behind her back, pulling it up just a few notches shy of that familiar crack of bone. Leslie squealed and fought him. He got her into a headlock and tried to push her inside the patrol car. When she didn't bend down like his hand demanded he shoved her head into the hood.

"Like that?" He shouted as blood streamed from her nose. She was unconscious, and one problem less for him to deal with. Wake up in the morning with one hell of a headache, that's for sure.

"Leave her alone!" Duncan shouted from the ground.

Bradley crammed the limp girl into the patrol car and slammed the door. He could feel a burning throb in the wounds of his hands, threatening to cry more blood. He staggered back to the two boys, noticing how they had uselessly tried to saw the handcuff chain against the bumper. Chrome flakes lay on the ground between them, catching the rising moon.

"You're as fucking crazy as he is!" Duncan screamed.

"As crazy as who?"

"The thing that almost killed you, you stupid son-of-a-bitch!"

Bradley kicked him in the chest, and this time he did hear something crack. Roach tried to scoot under the truck, staring up at him with large elk eyes.

"Aw god Bradley. Don't kill us."

Bradley stepped back, shaking. The punk was right. If he didn't pull himself together he would have a tough time explaining what had happened. And he thought his troubles with the mayor were bad already. "I've got an eye witness who saw you in Orford County three weeks ago," she'd said one morning, " You want to tell me why this wasn't logged?" Let her dwell too long on a detail like that and he'd find himself on Death Row. He'd been stupid for not going back and handling the old man at the hardware store right away, but things were just too hot.

"I'm not killing anyone. I'm just reminding your friend here to mind his mouth."

Duncan was coughing badly, eyes rolling like a slot machine.

"How many were there?" Bradley asked, jabbing his finger at the SUV.

"Two. From out of town. They made us come out here, Bradley. Shit, they took Leslie in their truck and made us follow them. They wanted our whole fucking crop."

"So which one of you geniuses decided to escape?"

Roach stared up into Bradley's eyes, pretending that he hadn't heard the question. He glanced over at Duncan, concerned.

"Man, you really you kicked the shit out of him."

Bradley shook his head as if declining whipped cream on his pumpkin pie.

"I asked you a question."

"We got out and showed them where it was and they made us pack it into garbage bags. One of them had a gun. There was nothing we could do."

"And Leslie. You just left her there?"

"It was all that bitch's fault to begin with. We told her we didn't like those guys, but she wouldn't listen. We got most of the stuff packed into their SUV until Bramble Man came and we just split."

Bradley swallowed, and it felt like a fistful of glass had just passed down his throat. He recalled a strange voice echoing in his head. There were a lot of strange things going through his head at the moment.

"Bramble Man? This a nickname of some dealer you do business with?"

"No. He's this guy who haunts the tracks. He almost killed you too."

Bradley rubbed his eyes. This was getting to be absurd. He rarely saw the absurdity in things, but this was definitely a bona fide case. He'd simply had a monster of an anxiety attack and had fallen into the blackberry bushes. Then that idiot Duncan had sprayed him with weed killer. He decided to humor the boy for awhile anyway.

"What is he then? A hobo?"

Roach stared into Bradley's eyes, seething.

"You must have heard about him. All the kids grow up hearing stories about the Bramble Man. It's a way that the parents keep us away from the tracks so we don't get run over by trains."

Bradley snickered. "Sounds like a perfect arrangement, using a local load of crock to keep people from discovering your little operation down here. So what made you come back here in such a hurry? Did you think you could get back the dope they'd ripped off you?"

Duncan began to scream as a bolt of pain ripped through the center of his body, causing his limbs to flail around in all directions. Bradley had only meant to shut the punk up, not send him into a seizure. He stepped back and stared. Roach tried to steady his friend but there was nothing he could do to calm the violent tremors.

"We've got to get him to a hospital!" Roach screamed.

Duncan started to choke, and with his free hand he grabbed his throat as if to stop something from moving up it. His eyes bulged and he shook his head at Bradley.

"What's wrong with you, boy?"

Blood trickled from the corners of Duncan's mouth. He kept shaking his head, as if straining to keep his jaw clamped tight. Then his mouth suddenly burst open and a blood-covered vine shot out like a lizard's tongue and smacked against Bradley's chest. Bradley stumbled backwards, stunned. He noticed the vine leading up the leg of Duncan's jeans, saw where it had wriggled towards the bloody seat of his pants and disappeared.

Roach, who was still cuffed to the boy next to him, began to cry for help. The saw tooth that dangled from Duncan's mouth curled around and tore into Roach's ear. Roach's frantic screams echoed across the dark valley as heavy splashes of blood gurgled down the side of his head. He tried to pull the vine out with his free hand but the saw-tooth flexed harder, and as it plunged deeper into the soft sponge of his brain, the boy's hand went still and fell into his lap. By the time Bradley had drawn his automatic with his wounded hand, the saw-tooth had already drilled out the other side of Roach's head and was probing it's way into his mouth for a return trip. Another vine shot up and snatched the gun from Bradley's hand, carrying it off into the thick brush.

Bradley did only what came natural to him. He ran for the patrol car.

The keys were still in the ignition where he'd left them. He'd get far enough on flattened tires to at least beat this thing back to the highway. Hell, he'd ride the wheel bearings to town if necessary.

He tried using his radio, but it still didn't work. Something had crawled up inside the car and seriously messed some things up.

He started the engine and clicked on the lights. Thank god something still works around here, he thought. He turned and looked at Leslie lying on the backseat.

"You're gonna thank me for saving your life."

He stepped on the gas and the car lurched forward. There was plenty of drag coming from below.

"Come on." He coaxed the car, trying to give it only the gas it needed to free it from the mire.

Saw-tooth vines slid across the front of the patrol car, scrawling marks on the hood. When they got to the windshield he turned on the wipers to knock them away. With all the movement going on outside, it was difficult to tell if he was actually moving. He panicked and stepped hard on the gas. The dead tires beat like fists against the wheel walls, choking with blackberry vine and starting to smoke. The saw-tooth vines had covered most of the windshield and were now exploring the sides and roof of the car. He hit the automatic window switch just to make sure everything was up nice and tight.

The car still wasn't going anywhere.

Bradley listened to the saw teeth scritch over the car like a river of barbed wire, carrying dripping chunks of the boys across the windshield. Soon the glass was slicked thick with blood, making it impossible to see anything outside.

"He's got us Bradley." A voice taunted from the backseat. "Bramble is going to fuck us up."

Bradley slumped back, defeated. She was right. The little bitch was right about something for once in her stupid life. If he'd only whacked her harder, maybe he wouldn't be feeling humiliated at the moment. This is not how he wished to die.

"You got any ideas, because I'm fresh out."

"There's only one thing left, and that's get into Bramble's head ourselves. Maybe we can stop him somehow."

"And how do you propose we do that? You got an 800 number to call a psychic?"

Leslie fished into the front of her shirt pocket and her hand came out with a joint, a real fatty.

"No. We smoke this."

Bradley laughed bitterly. "Yeah, right, getting stoned is the answer to everything."

Leslie glared. "You don't understand do you? You want to know why the weed we grow down here makes us so much money? Because if you smoke it you start hearing voices. Bramble comes and talks to you."

"That's brain damage talk. You're pathetic, just like the rest of your generation." Bradley popped open the glove compartment and dug around for his bible until he remembered leaving it at his house. He'd been running late this morning, and forgot he'd set it next to his Survival Of The Fittest coffee mug that showed a simple outline of a Jesus shark devouring a Darwin critter with stubby legs.

"Do you want to die here?"

"No. But I refuse to use drugs to save myself either."

Leslie began to laugh. If the protective grating wasn't there to separate them, Bradley knew that he would have put a quick end to it. The pleasure of seeing her die first would have at least been satisfying.

"Well maybe it's time to start… Because if I remember right, it only took about twenty minutes before he got to those assholes in the SUV and we've already used up at least fifteen just sitting here."

Bradley shifted around in his seat so he could look her in the eye. Her face was smeared with dry blood, and she had a deep bruise across the bridge of her nose.

"I'm a Christian and I'm an officer of the law…"

"What do I care." Leslie said, lighting up the joint and inhaling deeply.

"Put that out now!" Bradley screamed. But he'd have to go outside to the back door to actually do anything about it.

Leslie smiled as smoke curled out from her lips. The vines outside seemed to be sawing into the very metal itself, minutes away from tearing their way into the car. Bradley could see that she no longer appeared to be afraid. Typical druggie response to danger, he thought.

By the time Leslie had smoked half the joint she was nodding her head as if she were listening to someone else talking. She leaned forward and pushed the joint through the grating. Bradley picked it gingerly off the seat before it burned a hole in it. When it actually came down to the wire, the desire to survive started kicking ass in the war in his head. God forgive me, he thought before he took a drag and coughed. He glanced at Leslie, half expecting her to suddenly sprout horns and breathe fire.

"Finish it." She ordered.

Bradley looked back down at the joint in his tattered hand. He was surprised that he hadn't yet felt a thing. He took another drag and held it in like she'd showed him and closed his eyes…

He found himself standing on railroad tracks in the blazing sun. The heat on his body felt good. The sky above was the bluest he'd ever seen.

The Bramble Man turned towards Bradley and stared into his eyes like a man drunk with blood lust.

"I should have killed her. I should have killed the witchy witch."

Suddenly his flesh began to sprout tendrils of sticker vine, tearing ragged holes over his entire body.

"Look what she did to me!" he screamed. He began shaking his hands in front of Bradley's face.

Bradley stood still, slack-jawed in disbelief.

Bramble Man stepped closer. He looked less like a man and more like a thick bundle of vines dripping blood. What appeared to be a smile spread itself across his crude mouth.

"Do you know where she lives? Can you tell me where I can find her?"

Bradley began to step back, feeling his knees turning to rubber.

"You're not real."

Bramble laughed. "If I'm not real, then how come I know all about what you did in Orford County? Can you tell me why you did it?"

Something popped in Bradley's chest and he nearly fell over. He reached up with both hands and rubbed his temples. The pain was like a serious case of brain-freeze.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"That doctor you killed. You know, the one who you heard was killing babies."

He couldn't believe what he was hearing. No one ever suspected, let alone accuse him. The mayor had come close. And although he denied ever being near Orford County on June 2nd, it wasn't until he'd encouraged the old man at the hardware store to plunge down his basement stairs that she eventually backed off for awhile.

Bramble moved closer. Drops of bright blood splashed onto the thirsty dust below.

"And that's not the only one who got it that day, is it? Remember the young girl in the waiting room? The one you shot in the face because you were afraid she'd be able to identify you?"

Bradley's knees finally gave out and he collapsed to the ground. Was this what his punishment would be? Listening to some ghost fiend that haunted the tracks? Why had god abandoned him? He thought he was doing so well.

When Bradley looked up he saw the woman in black approach. As she got closer he recognized Leslie's face. No longer the homely white trash that he'd remembered but a preternatural beauty. Not the kid with the bad complexion, but a woman who possessed the wisdom of centuries.

"I'm the witch," she said, grabbing Bramble by the hand. Stickers crushed in her palm, causing blood to flow freely from her fingers.

"I don't understand," said Bradley.

"The girl has been my connection to your side for many years, and she will survive to see many more."

"What about him?" Bradley asked. "He was trying to kill you. I saw it."

The witch looked up at Bramble and gently smiled. "He has been punished long enough. Now it is time I set him free."

"Free?" asked Bramble in a trembling voice, leaning his head down to see her through stickered slits.

The witch nodded and let go of his hand. Bramble Man stumbled backwards and caught fire. The flames guttered briefly before taking hold on the blistered blackberry vine, driving out liquid and crackling with intense heat. Bramble screamed as black acrid smoke poured from his mouth and eyes. He swung his arms around like a man fighting in the dark.

Bradley got to his feet and stood quietly next to the woman for a long time. Under the hot sun they watched Bramble burn to coils of white ash on the tracks. The witch stepped forward and crushed his remains with the toe of her shoe.

"And me?" Asked Bradley. "What happens next?"

The woman grinned. "Why you are his worthy replacement of course."

Several hours past by before Bradley was able to summon enough courage to open his eyes. His body had become stretched like taffy, spilling out from the shattered windows of the patrol car and blindly probing the darkness.

In the years that followed he spread himself along thousands of miles of railroad tracks, picking up local names like Rail Yard Butcher or The Mad Hobo along the way. He grew to miss the cold touch of his father's hand pressing him under pond water so long that he saw the burning matchbook of his soul, and he hoped that one day soon he'd be able to catch sight of the dark angels jerking across the mirrored surface of heaven far above…

THE END