The Mountain Town

by Josh Olsen

  He sat her down at the sofa, his finger aimlessly twirling one of the small tassels on its armrest, he sat, at a loss for words, not wanting to speak. He didn’t know how long he had been sitting there, but Ashley finally spoke,

  “Well?” she asked, her voice encumbered by an annoyed tone.

  He looked up at her, all the hate he had harbored towards this woman in the past years seemed to fade away as he thought. It all seemed so small and worthless now.

  “Ash,” he stopped, thinking to himself, he hadn’t called her Ash in years. What had this all been for? The fighting, all of it.

  “Wyatt,….. Wyatt,” he choked back tears, his voice cracking. “Wyatt is gone, our son is dead,” he said softly, tears secreting from his eyes, his hands quickly gripped over his eyes, wiping them away.

  After some time he looked up, curious almost. Was it shock? Was it pain? What had kept her silence for so long? He looked at his wife, almost shocked. Ashely stared at him, unfazed, no hint of negative emotion.

  “Really? that is,…interesting.” she said, staring at him.

  “Ashley?” Nate asked, puzzled, furrowing his brow, he stared at her. “Are you not hearing what I am saying?” he stopped, he heard the toilet flush and the sink turn on in the bathroom in the next room, he looked up to see him enter the room.

  Ashely’s attorney, Roy Dean, a short, red faced man. His bare scalp bore beads of sweat underneath his combover of his thin, rough hair. This weasel had been in Nate’s business and affairs for the better part of two years, searching for something, anything to make his money.

  Nate’s blood pressure doubled just at the sight of him.

  “What is he..?” Nate started but was cut off by Ashley, without even turning around

  Ashley looking up, spoke to the man, “Roy dear, wait in the other room will you?” A grunt of acknowledgment was heard from the stocky man, and he disappeared into the hallway.

  “Ashley, what the hell is going on?” Nate demanded, “Let me stop you right there, hold on a moment Nathan,” she said standing up and going to the other room, she returned holding what looked like a series of photographs. She sat down again. “Nathan, let me say this quickly.” “I’m divorcing you, I can’t take your abuse and neglect anymore,” she said coldly.

  Nate was taken aback, “What?” “What the hell are you talking about?” “You’ve got no case Ashley!” “You want my money? You won’t see a dime of it you bitch!” Nate yelled.

  “I’d keep your voice down if I were you Nathan, As you see” she said, holding out some of the photos, her acrylic nails tapping lightly on the backs of them. “I do in fact, have quite the case”

  Nate examined the photos closely, they were of him, yesterday, or this morning, he couldn’t remember anymore. Passed out in the bedroom on the carpet, empty bottles at his sides, there were several, all like the one before it.

  Ashley continued, cold, calculated, “As you can see, I have evidence of your drinking problem and neglectfulness that has hurt this family for years, Normally not much to go off of, a series of pictures,” she continued, her voice steady, unbroken, “But this particular episode resulting in the serious injury, and after this recent development, death of one of our children, you can see how that would appear quite worrisome Nathan,” Nate grimaced, unable to comprehend, to grasp, the coldness of what Ashely was saying.

  He looked up from the photographs in horror, staring at Ashley, trying to put together words. “Our children were missing, and the first thing you thought to do was to collect, evidence?” The words secreted from his mouth as if they were a bitter poison.

  “My children” Ashley quipped back.

  “What?” Nate asked,

  “My children Nate, at least after all the legal work is done, I’ve already shown what I have to Roy, both these photos of you and the photos I took of Owen, and he’s assured me that there isn’t a court in this country that wouldn’t grant me full custody, especially after this recent news, it’s a shame about Wyatt,” She said, her voice unfeeling. “But I will see to it that Owen is under the care of a stable, well balanced parent from now on.” a smirk beginning to form on her evil lips.

  Nate couldn’t believe what he was hearing, he stared in confusion at this woman he thought he knew, but as he stared back at the blank expression of this woman, he began to comprehend, that he had no idea who this person was that sat before him now. “I,….You….”

  Nate searched for words, nothing came out. He felt the anger boiling inside him, desperately he searched for something to say but all he got out was;

  “FUCK!” he stood up, his one heavy arm sweeping the china and centerpiece off the table in front of them sending it all crashing onto the floor, shattering.

  Nate stormed out slamming the door behind him, he turned around just enough to see her through the crack of the door, there sat Ashley, staring at him, almost grinning.

  Chapter 16

  “Shit,” Clark thought to himself as he looked down at his meager cards, poker never really was his game anyway. He clasped his cards tighter in his bandaged hands, trying to keep his face taut and serious, “Call” he said, leaning forward to put his chips in, he grabbed his coffee off the table and leaned back, wincing. The painkillers had taken most of the edge off, but he could still feel his ribs shifting around inside of him, the feeling was nauseating.

  Clark turned back to look at Nate, sitting against the wall, cigarette in his hand, his gaze lost in the ceiling tiles. He leaned in close to Jason.

  “Jason,” his tone quiet and serious. “What the hell do you think happened to that boy in the woods? Wolves?”

  “More than likely.” Jason said, looking up. “I wish they’d shut down those damn hiking trails. Seems every year someone gets lost in those pines and we have to go haul their frozen ass out.” “But shit Clark, let’s talk about this later, the boy’s father is right there.”

  Clark casually turned around catching a glance of Nate. The man hadn’t moved, still sitting, lost in thought. Clark’s brow furrowed, he had returned to the hospital almost an hour ago and still hadn’t said a word. Clark didn’t blame him though, the man had just lost his son. Nate readjusted himself quietly in his chair folding his arms and shutting his eyes, Owen, a few feet away sound asleep.

  He looked back at Jason, now staring intently at his cards, “Hell Jason,” Clark started, “Don’t you have work back at the station? Paperwork? Something? It’s been a hell of a day.”

  “Well Clark,” started Jason, still focused on his cards, his eyes darting back and forth from his hand to the river on the table. “That’s just what I’m trying to avoid, as soon as someone from Sanders Corp finds out about this whole mess that’s when my day goes from bad to even shittier,”

  Clark’s brow scowled at the very mention of Sanders Corp. He could hear their typed and recited motto echoing inside of his head at the sound of their name.

  “Sanders Corp, an agency of Sanders Travel and Tourism Inc. Created to protect the assets and interests of the company as well as handle and maintain relations with local populations.”

  Everyone in town had heard the script, had seen what they did, whether the company was taking part of someone’s land deemed “unsafe” or were driving away business from the locals and directing guests to a more “efficiently equipped” establishment.

  Everyone in town hated them but couldn’t afford to say a word. Being blacklisted by Sanders Corp. was the end. Someone might as well begin packing their bags then and there, cause there wasn’t anything left for them in this town after that.

  “Sure is quite the shit show. Two kids missing, one dead, the other all kinds of banged up. Yeah, they’ll find me. They’ll show up going on about what statement we’ll make tomorrow.” Jason continued still not looking up from his hand. “Besides, I need to make sure my Deputy is recovering ok.”

  He looked back at Jason, “The hell for?” he asked, a grin cracking on his face, “The doctor told us more than
an hour ago, he’ll be fine to leave tomorrow, his leg is all stitched up and disinfected” he continued, still looking at Jason.

  Jason stared, now intently at his chips, carefully and meticulously picking up a few from each stack as he replied, “Well, we can never be……too……careful” he continued, slowly. His gaze unbroken from his chips, he looked up and through his chips in quickly, “Raise you 10 Clark,” his tone immediately changing, his focus on nothing but the game.

  Clark stared back, “So you’re telling me, you’re using Dane’s tore up leg as an excuse to get you out of some paperwork?”

  “Well to tell you the truth,” said Jason, looking up, “That’s about more use than he’s ever been to me before.”

  The room sat silent, Jason and Clark’s gazes fixed on each other, the air thick with the chest crushing pressure of the tension.

  Without warning both men burst out into laughter, hysterical laughter. Near tears coming from their eyes, gasping for air and trying to speak between each burst of laughter.

  Nate sat in the corner, still unmoving, drifting in an uneasy sleep.

  Slowly, Clark and Jason began to regain their composure, sucking in desperate gasps of air as their thunderous laughter gradually reduced itself to a quiet snicker, and once again, silence. The distance between these two men, though in reality, only a few feet, now seemed to be greater than the darkest reaches of space.

  The silence, almost suffocating, prevented either man from speaking, it seemed as if the stillness had sealed their lips, forbidding them from breaking it. The history these men shared, the distance it caused and held between them, in this moment, neither man could break free from it nor could they see it being broken. They sat in this uncomfortable muteness simply staring away, their gazes fixed on the floor. Could the past ever really be forgotten?

  “Full house,” Clark said, breaking the silence and slapping his cards down on the table, “I need some air” he said sitting up patting his jacket searching for his cigarettes, Clark pushed his chair away from the table, the shrill screech of the chair leg on the concrete floor shattered the all encompassing silence, even stirring Nate from his hazy trance.

  “Clark,” Jason started, but Clark didn’t hear, he was already outside. The sharp slam of the heavy oak door drenched the room once again in complete silence.

  Chapter 17

  The creature stood, hunched, well behind the tree line. Its dark, piercing eyes, stared upward, it had followed its trail, it was in there, it knew it.

  Its head darted back and forth scanning the structure for a way in, the lights keeping the beast well back in its comfort in the dark abyss of the forest. Though it could no longer smell its prey it had tracked here, it knew it still lay inside. It could sense its prey’s heartbeat even, it stood, raising itself up on its hind legs, it savored each consistent beat, pining for the moment it would send the consistent pattering it listened to now, spiraling into a chaotic arrhythmic noise.

  The beast scanned, its hideous snout misting clouds of thick steam into the cold night. Its rotting teeth drenched in a ravenous saliva dripped from the edges of its mouth.

  Another one of them sat outside the structure, smoking. The beast couldn’t see this no, but it didn’t have too, the toxic smell of tar filled its nostrils, even from this distance.

  The creature turned, continuing further along the tree line, scanning the building for a way in, an approach, the moment to strike. It’s massive paw-like feet imprinting deep inside the freshly fallen snow, each step sinking halfway up its long, powerful legs.

  The beast could feel it, could sense it, it was getting closer to its prey. Scanning the windows, the glint of the fresh falling snow, shone off the blackness of each window. Some windows lit, others not.

  Late enough in the evening, that others had retired to their warm bed, seeking refuge from the harsh elements that they now sat just feet from asleep in their ocean of warm unconsciousness. Late enough that there were none outside, except one, one still sat, the smoke filling the lung jarring cold.

  It sat hunched, snarling, staring, the windows thin, vulnerable. Its only hinderance now being these incessant lights.

  It didn’t fear the brightness, no, the beast was undeterred by such weak power.

  The thrill of the hunt was what drove the creature forward.

  Thinking, knowing almost, if something saw it, if it was seen even a second before it attacked, if something knew of it, knowing it did in fact exist in these deep woods and not just as a figment that rested deep inside the dark recesses of it’s prey’s mind, in its worst nightmares and fears, this mighty power the creature held could be weakened, all the pleasure it took in the fear of its prey, their descent into madness.

  The beast snarled and began to turn around, it could wait, but just as it began to slink behind the tree line once again, the lights shut off. An audible click sound could be heard as the large floodlights ceased the projection of their beacon of light they had previously put forth.

  The only sound that could be heard now was the sound of the falling snowflakes sizzling on the hot lights as they fell.

  The beast turned, its muscles tensing, every ligament and muscle twitching, it snarled, and began its approach. It was coming for its prey.

  Chapter 18

  Ashley Clawson lay soundly asleep in her luxurious bed, its warmth cocooning her in a vast sea of comfort and safety. Protecting her from the harsh frost just outside her window, snowflakes swirled through the cold air with a comfortable aimlessness guided by the breeze that wafted throughout the snowy hills.

  Roy lay beside her, his arm draped over her thin, fit figure. She lay, covered only by her wispy nightgown, her arms hanging over the thick flannel quilt, a handful of fabric gripped softly in each of her effeminate hands. The moonlight shining through the blinds glistened off the fine milk colored fabric of her gown. The blinds divided the light into rows of gleaming white projecting an eerie glow onto the bed.

  The beast, well below, looked up the towering wooden walls of the Paradise Hotel. It was growing closer to its prey. Circling the floor level window, it leapt, using its mighty legs, propelling itself just above the 1st floor window, its long powerful claws dug deeply into the thick red cedar. Large shavings of the timber curled outward from underneath the beasts claws and fell down softly to the forest floor below as it climbed.

  No guests of the hotel stirred, this early in the season there were, barely, if any guests staying on the lower level. Whatever guests were lodging at the resort this early were spread out considerably, usually not within 2 or 3 suites of each other.

  The beast continued to climb, its muscles tensing and its fur standing straight up, it could smell its prey, could feel it, It was near, and the beast would now have it.

  Reaching the window, the beast hung to the side, its claws still embedded deeply in the wood. It peered through the frost covered window, its heavy breaths fogging the glass. Pulling one paw out of the splintered wood, slowly, meticulously, it ran its claws softly over the pane of glass, producing a shrill screech.

  Ashely awoke nervously, a cold bead of sweat tickling her back as it ran down. She had heard it, the scratching. She waited, listening carefully, her ears trained on the window to the back of her, not turning around, not wanting to stir Roy. She heard it again, the ear piercing screech.

  Normally, one may chalk this sort of noise up to a stray tree branch brushing against the window in the wind. But she knew, this room she now resided in was nowhere near any trees, unlike the room upstairs that she had shared with Nate. She heard it again, it seemed to be growing louder, more menacing, more.…deliberate. A deep wave of panic washed over her, covering her smooth, fair complexion in prickly goosebumps that rose with her state of fear as it grew.

  The beast drew in deep breaths of the cold mountain air through its nostrils, the sinister pleasure it gained from the fear of its prey filling the beast with energy and power, its hair standing up on end. Chills of ecstasy
running over its massive form.