by C. G. Mosley
Cochran opened his mouth to wail in pain, but no sound came from his lips. His body fell to the damp earth. He tried to get up from the ground, but his body would not respond. Something deep inside him was broken. Whatever that something was, it was important enough to shut down his ability to move his extremities. He could only lie there, looking up at the stars above. His breathing had become ragged and difficult. Cochran soon became aware his lungs were filling with blood. This was truly the end for him. Though he could not move, and his breathing was becoming quite labored, his sense of hearing was still operational. The heavy sound of footsteps was approaching, and he knew full well what was coming. He was unable to turn his head, but he was, however, able to shift his eyes to the left. He could see the silhouette of the harbinger of his death looming over him. Cochran then took the deepest breath he could muster and closed his eyes for the final time as the heavy foot belonging to the rogue wood ape slammed down upon his skull, crushing it.
***
“Where is Sheriff Cochran? Have you seen him?” John asked, frantically.
Frightened parents and children ran by him. He found himself in a flood of panicked people, going against the current in his desperate search for the sheriff. Finally, when he realized no one was going to stop to talk to him, he grabbed a woman by the arm, forcing her to stop. The woman looked at him fearfully and he quickly showed her his badge to calm her.
“Tell me what happened,” he demanded.
She could see the hardness in his eyes and knew he wasn’t going to release her without an answer. “There was gunfire behind the fire station,” she said, her voice trembling. “A lot of gunfire!”
John released her and began sprinting toward the fire station. He could see the blue strobes of the deputies’ patrol cars arriving behind him, but he did not wait for them. In fact, he didn’t stop running at all until he rounded the corner at the rear of the firehouse and found the body of Sam Kendall laying there, bleeding out in the dim light that crept over from the town square lights. He paused to kneel and take the man’s pulse. Unbelievably, he was alive.
There was a ruckus in the trees behind him. John already had his weapon drawn and he rose to investigate.
“Sheriff, you out there?” he asked.
Something felt very wrong about the situation. There was a tension he could literally feel in the air. Something horrible had happened. With slow steps, John moved into the foliage toward the direction that he’d heard the movement. He pulled a small flashlight from his pocket to illuminate the path ahead. Seconds later, he was staring upon a gruesome discovery. There was no way to identify him by looking at his face. What had once been his head, was now a bloody, gory mess. It was the uniform and name plate that had given it away. Sheriff Cochran was dead.
John fell to his knees and the tears welled up in his eyes. He’d been too late. The wood ape had killed him. He heard footsteps approaching behind him.
“Guys, don’t come down here,” he said, doing his best to regain his composure.
“What’s wrong?” Billy called out. “Did you find the sheriff?”
“Sheriff Cochran is dead,” John said very matter-of-factly. He rose to his feet and walked back toward the rear of the firehouse. Billy saw his face and frowned, fighting back tears.
“You saw him?” he asked.
“I did,” John answered, nodding.
Billy attempted to walk past him, but John grabbed his arm. “Billy, don’t,” he said, almost pleading.
The deputy wrenched his arm free and ignored the request. Seconds later, John could hear him weeping. There were two other deputies now present and they picked up on what had happened.
“Gentlemen, you know as well as I do that the sheriff wouldn’t want us sitting around blubbering like a bunch of babies about his death,” he said. “That thing is still on the loose and we owe it to the sheriff to protect this town and county.”
“I’m going to get a shotgun,” one of the men said, turning away.
John followed him. “Good idea.”
It was then that the screaming returned.
***
Emma Honeycutt sat straight up the minute she’d heard the gunfire outside. She hobbled over to the window and looked at the town square below. People were frantic. There were screams and panicked families scattering in all directions.
What the hell is going on?
As she was peering outside, the door to her room swung open.
“Ms. Honeycutt, honey, you need to lie down,” the nurse said, noticing she was out of bed. “What are you doing?”
“What’s going on out there?” Emma asked, still staring out the window.
The nurse walked over beside her and seemed surprised when she saw the commotion outside. “My goodness,” she said. “I have no idea.”
“I heard gunfire,” Emma said, glancing over at the nurse. “Did you hear it?”
She shook her head. “I’m sorry, but I did not. Had no idea anything was happening.”
“I’ve got to go down there,” she said, the features on her face hard and determined.
The nurse shook her head. “Honey, there is no need for that, I’m sure the sheriff has it all under control. Why don’t you lie back—?”
“Where are my clothes?” Emma asked, glancing down at the hospital gown she was wearing.
“Your partner…Agent Milk,” the nurse said, thinking aloud. “He got your clothes to have them laundered. He said he’d bring you some back by.”
She sighed and rolled her eyes. “I assume he hasn’t yet.”
The nurse smiled and shook her head. “Afraid not.”
Emma huffed and then hobbled her way over to where he crutches rested against the wall.
“What are you doing?” the nurse asked, sounding a bit frantic.
“I told you,” she said, placing the crutches under her arms. “I’ve got to get down there.”
The nurse’s mouth dropped open and it was clear she wanted to argue the matter further. After a moment, she simply asked, “If you’re going to do this, at least tell me how I can help.”
Emma smiled, thankful that the nurse was beginning to relent. “Well,” she began a bit sheepishly. “Can I borrow your car?”
Chapter 18
John scrambled back into the town square while Billy and the other deputies went after more firepower. He soon discovered that the rogue wood ape had attacked again. There was blood and body parts strewn about through the grassy area between the gazebo and fountain. On the top of the gazebo, appearing like a cross between King Kong and an ugly stone gargoyle, stood the hulking, bloody beast peering in all directions as if he were in search of his next victim.
John scanned his surroundings and could see that, for the most part, the citizens of Baker County had managed to escape. It appeared there had only been one victim and, as terrible as it was, he was thankful to find that it was an adult and not a child. As he’d been watching the wood ape and chaos, John reloaded his firearm and once he’d shoved the magazine home into the grip, he again began to open fire upon the beast.
The wood ape glared at him, an evil sneer cracked its hideous face, and then the beast roared in a fantastic rage that no doubt rattled the windows in all the businesses surrounding the square. The wood ape beat its chest and then leapt from its perch upon the gazebo, its massive feet meeting the earth with a very pronounced thud. The wood ape began to tear across the grass, quickly eliminating what had once been roughly a fifty-yard gap between it and John.
John, for his part, continued to fire off rounds, some of which he knew didn’t even contact the beast. The bullets that did seemed to do little, if anything, to slow the wood ape’s pace. Once the last round was spent, John again frantically went to work at reloading the weapon. He kept one eye on the approaching wood ape and knew there would be no chance in completing the task before the beast tore into him.
The wood ape was mere feet away from him when suddenly a thunderous blast erupted from John
’s right. This time, something struck the wood ape with enough force to stun the creature. John snapped his head around to find one of the sheriff’s deputies ten years away from him, the barrel of a shotgun smoking in his grasp.
“Hell yeah!” John shouted gratefully. He then finished reloading his firearm as the deputy stopped beside him.
John looked at the man’s name plate.
T. Rivers
“Thanks, Deputy Rivers,” he said. “I owe you one, my friend.”
Rivers nodded but kept his eyes on the wood ape moving slightly on the ground near them.
“We’ll talk about that when that thing is dead,” he answered.
“Hit him again,” John commanded. There was a pain in his gut, a lingering side effect of his still coming to terms with the death of Sheriff Cochran.
“With pleasure,” Rivers answered, and he pulled the trigger.
The weapon thundered again, but to John’s utter horror, the wood ape suddenly rolled out of the way with a quickness he did not expect. Again, the creature was on its feet again.
“Shit,” John whispered. “Run!”
He turned in retreat, but Rivers did not, opting to instead fire the gun yet again. The wood ape dodged the assault once again and then it was on Rivers. John could only look on with terror as the beast tore its fangs into River’s throat. Blood sprayed from the wound as the beast tore flesh and cartilage from Rivers’ neck. The deputy was dead before he hit the ground.
“Damnit!” John screamed in anger. He began firing rounds again and soon, he was joined by Billy, the deputy who began unloading every shotgun slug he had available into the direction of the lumbering wood ape.
“This isn’t working,” Billy said, his tone a mixture of anger and hopelessness.
John again ran out of ammunition about the same time Billy did. The wood ape had taken on more lead but it still advanced toward them, though somewhat slower now. John tossed his gun aside, realizing it would not do him any more good. He looked around for a place they could hide to give him some time to think. He looked to his right and saw a row of historic buildings aligned tightly together. Two of the buildings had a very narrow opening between them.
“Follow me,” he said, and then he took off in a dead sprint toward the opening.
He could hear Billy following, and beyond him, the sound of the wood ape’s massive feet stomping the ground as it gave chase. John’s heart was beating with such intensity he feared it would burst. He refused to look back as he ran though he could feel the creature closing in behind him. With no time left to spare, John contorted his body in a fashion that allowed him to slip through the opening with ease. He turned just as Billy made it to the opening as well, but to John’s horror, the deputy was ripped backward, the shotgun falling from his grasp.
John could hear Billy scream as his body was hurtled through the air like a rag doll. He was unable to see where the deputy landed and decided it probably wouldn’t matter much anyway. Billy would most likely be dead, but John knew if he had any chance, he’d better pick up the shotgun. As he picked the weapon up from the ground, the rogue wood ape threw its muscled, hairy arm into the small opening. John jerked back and narrowly missed being snatched up by the beast’s violent grasp.
“Please help us.”
The voice was feminine and tiny. John looked over his shoulder and found a young girl standing in front of three other children. “Don’t let it hurt us, please.”
John looked at the wood ape’s arm as it continued to flail and thrash wildly, its black claws scraping at nothing in desperation.
“Cover your ears, kids,” John said as he picked up the shotgun. Three seconds later, he fired right into the wood ape’s open palm.
John watched as the projectile tore through the beast’s hand. It yelped in paid and jerked it’s arm back. He smiled as he realized for the first time, he’d witnessed the creature definitely feeling pain. The wood ape jogged away, yelping in agony as it did so. Satisfied that they were at least momentarily safe, John began to venture further along the narrow alley between the two buildings. He soon came to realize that the opening widened more and more until finally he reached the rear of the buildings. It was only a matter of time, he knew, before the wood ape figured out how to get behind the buildings to attack them again. John again looked at the kids. He forced a smile and knelt before the girl.
“What’s your name?” he asked softly.
She was dressed as a cowgirl. Her hair was braided into two pigtails. “Vanessa,” the girl answered back.
“That’s a beautiful name,” he replied, marveling at how incredibly calm she was. “Who are these other two young men?” he then asked, glancing at the two boys behind her.
One kid was dressed like a vampire, the other a pirate.
“I don’t know them,” the girl said, turning to look at the boys. “We just all ended up here when that monster started hurting people.”
John took a deep breath and nodded. “How old are you, Vanessa?”
“Eight.”
“And do you know where your parents are?”
She shook her head and for the first time, he could see a tiny bit of emotion welling up.
“Don’t you worry,” John said, doing his best to stifle the girl from crying. “I’m gonna find your parents and get you out of here real shortly.” He then glanced to the boys. “That goes for you two also.”
The boys nodded and Vanessa smiled. She took a deep breath and put on a brave face.
“That’s better,” John said, giving each of them a moment more to regain their composure.
He then grabbed the radio from his belt.
“Shelly, this is Agent Milk, do you copy?”
There was a pause, then static. Finally, “I hear you, Agent Milk. Is everything okay?”
John closed his eyes as he imagined how terrible the news of Cochran’s death would be on Shelly. And if that wasn’t enough, the deaths of the deputies also.
“Things could be better,” he replied. “We’ve got a real situation out here and I’m afraid we are fighting a losing battle. Have you checked on Kurt Bledsoe lately?”
“Yes, I have,” she answered. “He’s doing much better and is getting up and moving around.”
John sighed and held the radio a moment as he contemplated the decision he was about to make. There were few options and he wasn’t even sure if the crazy idea that had just formed in his mind would even work.
“Shelly, I need you to listen to me very carefully,” he said. “I want you to lock down every door in that station except the front door. I want you to open the front door wide and prop it open.”
“Agent Milk, are you trying to send that monster in here on me?” she asked nervously.
John smiled and shook his head. “No, ma’am, not at all. Once you get the front door open, I want you to open Kurt Bledsoe’s cell. When he’s freed, I want him funneled out the front door so he will have to enter the town square.”
There was a long pause and then more static.
“Agent Milk, are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting?”
“Yeah, I am,” he answered. “I told you we’re fighting a losing battle and we need some help.”
“But the last time those two fought, it didn’t end well for Kurt,” she shot back.
“Look, Shelly, we don’t have a lot of time here,” John quipped, a bit harshly. “People are dying out here and frankly, I’m out of options. Turn him loose, please.”
There was another long pause.
“Alright,” she replied softly. “I’m going to let him out. Over.”
“Thanks, Shelly…over.”
Chapter 19
Once Shelly Snow had locked down all the doors except the front one, she quickly made her way back to the cell where Kurt Bledsoe had been locked up for quite some time. She was out of breath by the time she reached it and forced herself to calm down a bit before she spoke. It was clear from Agent Milk’s tone that things out
side had gotten very bad. The mere suggestion of releasing Kurt Bledsoe spoke to just how terrible it must’ve been. Once her breathing had finally slowed enough to speak calmly, Shelly leaned near the tiny window and peeked in.
Kurt Bledsoe was pacing the room and it was almost as if he’d sensed something was wrong too. He immediately noticed her presence and stopped moving at once. He turned his large brown head to look at her, his green eyes shimmering.
“We need your help,” Shelly said to him. “That monster that hurt you is back and now it’s hurting the good people of this county.”
Kurt took a breath through his nostrils and his eyes narrowed.
“I’ve been asked to set you free,” she said. “I don’t even know if we let you go if you’ll even try to stop that thing. I certainly wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t.”
Kurt continued to stare at her intensely.
“But if you’re willing to help us, we’ll be grateful,” she said.
She reached down and began to turn the key that would in turn open the heavy door. She paused and took one final fierce glance at him.
“When I open this door, please don’t eat me,” she said a bit nervously.
Shelly closed her eyes and released the locking mechanism. She then hurriedly stepped back. Once she was clear, a few seconds ticked by and then suddenly the door flailed open and Kurt Bledsoe darted from the cell without even giving her a second glance. Shelly reached for her radio.
“Agent Milk…he’s free.”
***
The rogue wood ape had fled the alley where it had been shot in the hand for the cool waters found in the town square fountain. It was there that John had spotted it as he ushered the three children he’d recovered into the lobby of the post office where several others had sought refuge. After giving strict orders to stay inside with the door barricaded, he ventured back into the town square again, the barrel of the shotgun leading the way.
The rogue wood ape did not see him as its back was turned while it tended to its wound at the fountain. John’s heart raced, but as he knew there was no way to be sure if Kurt Bledsoe would assist, he felt the opportunity before him could not be passed by. Each step he took was careful and quiet. John even took slow control breaths. It was well known how well the wood apes of Baker County could hear and smell, but it was his hope that the creature was so involved in nursing its hand that it would not notice him. He got within thirty feet of the beast when it suddenly raised its head and sniffed the air.