by Dan O'Brien
“Who is up there?” he nearly cried and then taking a deep breath, he steeled his voice. “I am armed and I have drawn my weapon. I will not hesitate to shoot.”
He tried to sound convincing.
He failed miserably.
His eyes followed the sound of the footsteps as they moved farther from him and then down the stairs. Hidden in the shadowed, twisting staircase, something waited. The footfalls had ceased. Matthews swallowed hard as he realized the deathly silence that had descended over the house. Pointing his weapon at the staircase, he could hear strange, strangled breathing.
A stair creaked and then held, and another.
Pulling the trigger, the gun jumped. His hands had not the firm grasp that he had hoped. Maybe it was because of sweat, maybe fear.
The round impacted against the wall.
Splintering wood, a hollow sound echoed as the shell passed on through the back and into another room. His ears rang. He closed his eyes slightly as the dust in the house had been born again, thundering into the air.
And then the growling came once more.
This time it was more nasal, as if the creature had a terrible cold. Matthews backed up until he was against the wall just beside the front door. Reaching with his free hand, he touched the knob of the door with his fingers.
He couldn’t keep the gun level.
His mind was erratic.
He knew that it was the creature.
The deputy saw those terrible things that had been done. Horrible, nightmarish acts committed on the dead. An overpowering stench rose from the staircase. The creature moved forward, emerging from the darkness slowly at first: a mangled hand with broken nails; and then the other hand, this one adorned with shears and garden tools, woven together with thick cord, bandaged to his arm. The creature lowered to the ground, hands pressed out, fingers spread like flatworms oozing from the open spaces in the cross boards.
Matthews’ throat was raw. His Adam’s apple bobbed curiously as he struggled to swallow, licking his lips manically. He steadied the gun with his other hand, righting the slipping grasp he had before. “Stop. Stand down,” he stammered, his voice very much like a smaller child speaking to a bully in the school yard.
The back half of the creature’s body was still enshrouded by the shadows. Bending so that the creature was nearly flat to the ground, Matthews witnessed the mangling of human features that Lauren had seen the night before. He could see the slowly decaying face of Wayne Joyce stretched over one side of the features.
A bruised eye watched from beneath.
“What the fuck are you,” he screamed. Not waiting for an answer, the deputy drove his leg into the door. The door swung open and slammed into the wall, finally unhinging the screen door completely.
Although night was nearly upon the sleepy town, it was much lighter on the porch. He staggered backwards, his feet clumsily taking in the stairs as he navigated them with a drunken step.
Grabbing the walkie from at his waist, he spoke into it with an exasperated voice. “Sheriff. Sheriff, it’s out here at the Winston place. Over.”
Static answered him.
“Repeat….” he began.
Unfortunately for the deputy, the creature was not averse to traipsing outside. The serrated and rusted blades that adorned the creature’s claw raked down Matthews’ back, dropping the walkie from his hands and the man to his knees. Turning, the deputy brought up his gun. The creature caught it with his hand, chipped and flaking nails digging through the exterior of the coat that covered his arm.
Matthews opened his mouth to scream and the creature drove his own hand into the deputy’s mouth, abandoning the gun hand as it fell to the ground. Matthews’ eyes rolled back, his body convulsing as he struggled against the creature as it sat atop him.
Reaching up with his claw into the gray-covered skies above, the creature growled again. And then in one smooth, fluid motion, he drove the claw into the deputy’s chest. Matthews gurgled as he tried to breathe through the disgusting hand that was shoved down his throat.
Matthews’ mind screamed as he felt pieces of the creature’s nails come loose as they were driven and raked across the back of his mouth. Tears filled his eyes as he turned his head, seeing the gun just there out of his reach. As consciousness slipped away, he saw no great memories of his life.
There was only darkness.
Chapter XX
Lauren watched as Dominic touched the implements that laid about the shack: bloodied shears and a rusted needle that lay just above bits of what had been one of the victim’s faces. His eyes scrutinized every inch of the place. He smelled the air carefully, bringing some things to his nose to catch the scent better.
“He has not been here in a while,” he spoke. His voice woke Lauren from a faraway stare she had adopted watching him. Running his hands over the hanging, tearing tools, they chimed against one another in a macabre symphony.
“Much of the kill has spoiled.”
“How can you tell?” she asked quietly.
“About the kill? I can smell it.”
Lauren shook her head. “No, the time since he has been here. Can you smell that?”
Dominic nodded. “His smell is faint. One who has been bitten reeks of lust and hatred. Despite the cold, I could smell it easily. There is barely a whisper of his presence.”
“Meaning what exactly?”
Dominic touched a finger to his chin, tapping it slightly. “Perhaps this is not his only shelter. If your hunch is correct, then his former home might serve as a secluded hideaway as well.”
The monster that desired to be a man moved past Lauren out into the open air of the burgeoning night. The skies above were clear. Twinkling, burned-out gases millions of miles away dashed the canvas of shadows. He smelled the night like an animal, fists pressed into his side and his chin high.
“There is no sign of him out here, less of a scent really. He must have moved on after I pulled you out of the lake, abandoning this hole in favor of another.”
Lauren walked out and stood next to him. She looked up at the skies, her pale neck exposed. “Does he know? Can he comprehend what is happening to him?”
Dominic did not move.
“He is becoming insane. There is little to understand. This is why we had stayed veiled for so very long; why we confined ourselves to islands or deep in the mountains far from humanity. I fear society and technology has outpaced our kind.”
Lauren looked at him, her wide eyes drinking him in.
“What else is there?”
He looked at her strangely.
“In the universe?”
She smiled.
“What else is there that we take for granted?”
It was his turn to smile.
“Much.”
The dull buzzing vibration of her phone in her pocket startled her. She held his gaze a moment longer. Lauren wanted to know what he had meant: the great wonders of the world overlooked.
Looking at the screen, she saw that it was sheriff. Opening it with a flick of a wrist, she pressed it to her ear. “Westlake.”
Dominic watched her expression change. She turned away from him, placing a hand over her other ear. She compressed her body as she knelt toward the ground. With her head bowed, she closed the phone and put it back into her pocket.
“The news was not good,” spoke Dominic.
Lauren shook her head.
“Who was it?” he asked.
“Briar Winston.”
“Who?”
She turned, still crouched. Her eyes were glassy. “The man’s name was Winston. He attacked Deputy Matthews. He isn’t going to make it.”
Dominic looked away.
“Matthews,” he whispered.
Lauren stood, sniffling and running a jacketed sleeve across her face. “Montgomery said there was massive trauma to Matthews’ chest. He tried to call for back-up, but the creature got him. Montgomery is already out there. He wants us to come in. See if you can tr
ack him from the Winston place.”
Dominic nodded.
“He said there was some blood at the scene. Matthews clipped him.”
Dominic walked toward the jeep. Opening the door carefully, he did not meet Westlake’s gaze. She followed him, mirroring his motion on the driver’s side. Leaning on the roof, she looked at him.
“This isn’t your fault, Dominic. You didn’t kill Matthews.”
He sat into the passenger’s side seat, his gaze averted.
“You are wrong. All of this is my fault.”
MONTGOMERY STOOD with his arms crossed as usual. The ambulance packed in the body bag with Matthews inside. Collins and her assistant, Brian Erham, were nowhere to be seen. He had expected as much. The scene was gruesome and there was no doubt who or what had committed the atrocity. He watched as the EMT nodded sadly to the sheriff and stepped into the vehicle.
Rumbling with gray smoke, the ambulance drove into the distance. It moved aside on the narrow road to allow the jeep to pass. The skies had begun to close again, gray masses obscuring the masterpiece of celestial glory that hid just above the earth.
Lauren stepped out of the jeep first.
Dominic lingered inside the cab for a moment.
Montgomery did not move. He remained like a statue upon the lawn of the Winston place as the agent approached him. Her face wore her sorrow. “Sheriff, I’m so sorry about Matthews. He was a good man. Good officer,” she started.
Her condolences were sincere.
Montgomery nodded, his eyes focused on Dominic as he stepped out from the jeep and then walked toward the agent and sheriff. “I ought to put a bullet in that piece of shit’s head,” he spoke as Dominic got in earshot.
Lauren looked at him in horror.
“Sheriff….”
He took a step toward Dominic, ignoring Lauren. Montgomery grabbed Dominic by the lapels of his coat, pulling him close and shaking him. “You killed that boy. You and your fucking kind ended his life.”
A vein bulged from his forehead, throbbing angrily. Dominic allowed himself to be shaken, looking at the sheriff in sorrow. Montgomery pushed the larger man away.
His eyes welled with tears.
Matthews was like a son to him, an irritating one who didn’t listen as often as he should, but family nonetheless. His hand shook as he pointed at Dominic. “You should never have come here. I have to stand here and let you help us. To find the thing you created.”
Lauren stepped in between the two men.
Dominic looked at her with sadness in his eyes.
“He is not wrong, Lauren. Carnage lies in our wake, death and disorder in our dust. I have caused his young deputy’s death.” He turned to Montgomery. “And I will help you, though not with an expectation of forgiveness, but because it is my burden. As you said, this is my fault. I started this. I brought madness to Locke.”
Montgomery stared at Dominic.
And Dominic back at Montgomery.
They remained like this for a time.
Dead leaves falling from trees, flakes of snow blowing in the winds as the gray skies overhead threatened a blizzard. “Matthews managed to wing him. There is some blood,” Montgomery said after the pause.
Dominic bowed his head and walked after the sheriff as he moved to a dry patch of lawn just in front of the porch: chipped white paint revealed aged wood. Gripping the railing, Dominic lowered himself to the ground slowly. His finger touched the darkened patches. Rubbing it between his thumb and forefinger, he smelled.
“It is him,” he spoke clearly.
Montgomery was impassive.
“We figured as much. Can you track him?”
Dominic nodded. Pointing a finger toward the woods just beyond the property, he spoke. “He went into those woods.”
Lauren moved past the two men, looking at the woods critically. “What is beyond the woods?”
The sheriff sighed. “Erickson’s.”
THE MAN WHO HAD BEEN KNOWN as Briar Winston crashed through the woods adjacent to his former home recklessly. Branches slapped and tore at the exposed portions of his body.
Fear and anger flooded his mind.
Long ago had he lost the capacity for well-articulated thought. He could feel the lead in his shoulder, as well the weight as it moved through muscle. The round had torn through the flat stretch of flesh that had been sewn there.
His breath was ragged; his heart raced.
Flashes of gray skies peeked through the darkened canopy of skeletal trees. There were moments he desired to speak, but the skill had been lost.
Pain, grief: emotions that he could not control flooded his entire being, pushing him to run harder. He fell. Tripping, scrambling through the thorny and brittle brush, he felt the cold as his bare skin scraped against icy earth.
Bondage was a hard teacher; hurt a frightful master.
He could see the outside floodlights of Erickson’s through the congestion of intertwining branches. Heavy breath haunted his ears, thundered in his mind. Fragments of memories of a life before the monster filled his mind. This had been a place he frequented, but he could not remember why. There were familiar smells that should have conjured feelings, connected moments in time.
The woods ended into flat, wet grass; well-manicured and cut so that the frost of the night looked like icing on a cake. There were murmurs just beyond the lights: human voices, whispering––questioning.
He lowered to the ground, the motion making him howl. The pain in his shoulder radiated down his body. He barred his teeth.
Two men sat with their legs hanging over a dock; bay doors rolled up and dripping with condensation just above them. Snow and rain had begun to fall in a cold, blowing mixture that made them cover their eyes. With thick eyebrows and an even thicker beard, one of the men raised a hand over his eyes, pointing into the distance. The creature could not make out his words, but he knew where he would go next.
DOMINIC WAS THE FIRST TO EMERGE on the far side of the woods. Lauren came next, her coat whipping behind her. She cursed silently as she dusted off her jacket: gnarled and sharp twigs had found their way onto her garments. Dominic squinted as he watched through the haze of snow that had begun to descend.
“I smell blood,” he whispered. His voice was more animalistic than Lauren had ever heard it.
She was winded.
Dominic had taken off into the edge of the woods outside the Winston place with a gait that was unrivaled; at least certainly in the company she kept. Taking in a deep breath, she breathed out slowly. “What the hell was that back there? I couldn’t even keep up. I’m not sure Montgomery even followed us.”
Dominic stood very still, his haunting cerulean eyes watching the empty dock that the creature had seen minutes before. “I fear the creature has killed again. There is death on the winds.”
He started forward.
He left barely a trace. Lauren looked down at her own feet as she followed him, seeing deep indentions from her boots; yet he left no footprints.
“Where are your tracks?” she marveled.
“We do not leave tracks, if we can help it. The night at the lake I had little choice. Your added weight and the treacherous nature of the scrambling across the ice made it such that I could not hide my presence. But here, it is quite easy.”
The dock bay was a gruesome scene. Blood splattered against the walls, sluicing like horrific precipitation as snow landed and mingled. Dominic touched the wall, rubbing some of the blood between his forefinger and thumb.
He did not need to smell it. His lips twisted into a grim line. “It is not the creature’s blood. This poor soul walks no longer. Taken by the bitten.”
Lauren could not help but feel a great deal of remorse as she looked at the wide arc of blood that painted the walls. There were several distinct shapes, like Rorschach tests that told terrible stories.
They were haunting campfire tales.
“One victim?”
Dominic examined the stains closer, r
unning his hands across them, hiding the light. “Two. Male. Large.” Gripping the edge of the bay, he pulled himself up in a smooth, athletic movement.
His voice echoed from within. “Here.”
Lauren ascended the ladder beside the bay door quickly. She felt Dominic reach out with his hand and pull her into an open area there; and then a sick wave of revulsion as two bodies, slung over top one another, sat just inside.
“I think that it is safe to say that the creature came through here.”
Lauren nodded, trying to forget the mangled image of the bodies. She had not seen ones so fresh. They still oozed and bled. A coppery smell was adulterated by feces and vomit, sad effects of such a violent death.
“We have to stop this thing.”
Dominic nodded. “He will head for the warmest and darkest area. Try to hide until daylight. He knows he is being hunted now. He fears.”
Lauren flicked on her flashlight. “Why is it so dark in here? Don’t they run a night shift?”
“I presume the recession has forced the factory to shut down at night.”
Lauren gestured to the two dead men, grimacing.
She felt a knot in her stomach.
“What about these two? They don’t look like security. They’re wearing scraps of the same jacket worn by the employees here.”
Dominic looked into the poorly lit factory. He could see machinery, long assembly lines vacant. There were tall stacks covered in beige tarps, blowing slightly from the cold wind that crept through the open bay doors.
“I think they were on break. They probably came to this part of the factory and opened that bay door. Perhaps another part of the factory is working a late shift.”
Lauren looked at him, horrified. “We can’t have another incident like the Lavender house. We have to shut this place down.”
Dominic nodded grimly. Moving into the darkness of the factory, a curtain of blowing snow closed the world behind them.