The Lumberjack

by Erik Martin Willén

  Just as he had predicted, the kids were headed for the bar. Noise hit the accelerator and pulled up next to them. When he had the driver’s attention, he pointed his finger at him and then he slid it over his own neck, showing the shitheads what was coming. He saw the fear in the eyes of the driver, and he smiled at the scared little fucker. But then the kid’s expression changed into a mischievous smile as he pointed ahead—and that’s when Noise noticed the lights of another car heading straight at him.

  The last he saw of the kids was the driver flipping him the bird—something kids learn right after birth nowadays. No matter; Noise hit the brakes and pulled his car to the right behind the sports car. His truck aquaplaned from the heavy downpour, though, and Noise lost complete control when he hit the brakes and slammed down into the ditch. His pick-’em-up hit the bottom of the ditch very hard, and the air went out of him from the impact. The oncoming vehicle zoomed past with blue lights flashing. He checked around for more oncoming traffic; in the distance were the taillights of the sport car, slowing down as it approached the bar with its large neon sign in the far distance. No matter. It was time to whoop some ass. Who in the hell dared to run him and his beloved pick-’em-up truck into the ditch?

  The sparse brain cells in the middle of his huge head made a sudden pause, then sent a signal to the enormous body: crusher time. Noise was just about to exit the truck when blue lights flashed again, illuminating the dark night. It took a moment before Noise realized what he had done; he had almost hit a goddamn cop car. Noise wasn’t very bright, but he did understand that almost hitting a police car while speeding down the wrong side of the road was not a good thing to do. Yeah, well, the two six packs he had inhaled with his steak dinner weren’t improving his situation either.

  Hell, as long as it weren’t that illegal alien sheriff from Mexico, or worse the new blackie sheriff, then he might be able to talk ‘im out of this one. Oh wait, the new sheriff hadn’t got here yet—it was still that damn Mexican. Or was it?

  “Bwaha! It’s just a dern woman,” he said aloud when he noticed the short figure struggling with a raincoat against the powerful wind, and the long hair blowing to the side like a flag. The lady cop held her hat tight and limped against the strong wind towards his truck. She knocked on the window. “Are you okay, sir?” she had to shout over the sound of the wind. Turned out she was a very attractive girl in her mid-twenties, with dark hair and a slight accent.

  Noise had absolutely no idea how to handle the broad. If she booked him he would be in trouble, having a rap list as thick as the Bible. He cranked down his filthy window and held up his thumb, trying to give the female cop a seductive smile while winking one of his eyes, as what was left of his chew clogged his mouth.

  She gave him a suspicious look and lifted her eyebrows; and just as she was about to say something, a call on her radio ordered her to report to HQ ASAP.

  “Do you need paramedics, sir?”

  Noise shook his head no.

  “I’ll call for a tow truck for you. Do you need someone to pick you up?

  Noise found his tongue and said, “No, we’re near town. I’ll just walk back, miss.”

  He wasn’t going to ask the miniature porker for a ride. The only time pigs would give you a ride was when you were going to the slammer. Besides, his brain cells had started to work again, and he realized he needed another ride to get to the logging site on the mountain ridge. He got out of the truck, standing in the rain, watching the cop car drive away.

  BBB was the solution to his problem. She lived nearby, less than a mile away. Just had to follow this road until he got to a small three-way intersection, and there’d be an old dirt road leading to her home. Best hurry, ‘fore she goes to work at the bar, or worse, she decides to get drunk at one of them bars, Noise thought as he hurried toward BBB’s home. He knew these parts like the back of his hand, and decided to take a shortcut through the woods once he reached the next intersection.

  The wind picked up, but he completely ignored it, marching on like he had a purpose, which he kinda did. The street lights flickered, and when he reached the outskirts of town, the road pretty much turned dark. He moved fast, though, and made sure he walked against the traffic; he knew that many drivers would be drunk or wouldn’t know how to drive in a storm, and the last thing he wanted was to get hit by one of them idjits. He saw the intersection where he had to turn left; then he could take the shortcut through the forest.

  There was only one light at the intersection, right by the city limits sign, and next to it stood someone. At first, Noise didn’t care; but as he came closer he saw there was something odd about this person, and a sudden prickling surge went down his spine like a jolt of ‘lectricity. Was that fear? He wasn’t used to that. Something was wrong here. He stopped about one hundred feet away and peered at the person, and that’s when he realized that the “person” had fur. “Crap! A dern bear this close to town,” he muttered. “Or is that a bear? Could be one o’ them bigfoots. What da fuck.” He squinted to get a better look, but then the creature was gone. Huh. He reluctantly moved towards the intersection, and looked in the direction of the sign and light.

  More than once, he tripped and cursed as he hurried through the forest. Damn undergrowth. Whose idea was all them stickers and briars? The storm intensified, so Noise hurried some more. A faint light between the trees gave him hope, knowing he was almost there. The trees grew sparser the closer he got to BBB’s house. A root lay in his way, and because he was focused on the light, he didn’t pay any attention to his footing and fell headfirst into a small sinkhole. Instantly the light from the house vanished behind a small bluff. He rolled around like a fool, spitting out some mud—and suddenly he stopped. As the rain poured down like a shower and sudden lightning lit up the region, followed by a thundering explosion, Noise felt someone near him. Having spent most of his life either in the slammer or in the woods, he was experienced with the feeling, so he slowly turned to his side, looking behind him from the spot where he had fallen.

  He didn’t know what the hell he was looking at, but it stank and it was big. Bigfoot! he thought. Ever’one what sees ‘em says they smell real bad! When another lightning strike lit up the world, he looked closer at the enormous beast, but it only sat or stood there very oddly. The thing was just thirty feet from him, having the high ground. The beast tilted its head, just observing him. Noise froze, and decided that pretending to be dead was the best thing to do. With a theatrical groan, he fell back and lay still. Despite the cold, he started to sweat. After a few terrifying moments, he opened his eyes—but there was nothing there. Musta been what I saw at the intersection, he thought. Maybe a bear after all?

  Noise was scared shitless, though he’d never admit it. No man ever had or could scare Noise, but a Bigfoot or a big grizzly would definitely do the trick. Or whatever this was. He slowly began crawling up and away. When he reached the top of the bluff, he got up and ran for his life towards the light of BBB’s house.

  * * * * *

  THE DOOR shook from the earthquake-like bouncing, fast and loud, and it really pissed off the owner. BBB knew it wasn’t the damn storm, but some asshole wanting to get in. Typical—she was just about to have her weekly shower and then head on down to her favorite bar, Harley or Death. The knocking intensified, and the door trembled on its hinges.

  “You hit that door one more goddamn time and I’ma shoot ya!” she shouted over the noise of the storm. It wasn’t an idle threat, either. She pulled an ancient sawed-off shotgun from the old umbrella stand, and pumped it just like they do in the movies. A shell ejected and bounced off the wall. She opened the door slowly, the chain still attached.

  “BBB, it’s me, open the goldamn door!”

  “Noise, what you doin’ showing yourself here like this?”

  After some more begging from Noise, BBB finally opened the door. She stepped aside and watched the giant charge inside. Then, to her surprise, Noise slammed the door shut and even locked it. Some
thing big was up, she reckoned.

  “What’s gotten into you, Noise? You look like shit.”

  “Got in a accident with my truck, so I come over here, and then a damn grizzly or a Bigfoot or somethin’ started chasin’ me through the woods. It’s right outside, I reckon.”

  “Yeah, right, no bears come this close to town. Ain’t been no grizzlies in these parts for years, an there ain’t no such thing as no bigfoot, just idjits with size 20 clodhoppers like you. Tell me the truth.”

  “Woman, I’m…! Boss man tole me I had to go check on the cable yarder, see if it was locked down.”

  “Why didn’t you guys do it while you were up there?”

  “Well, see, that’s the problem. I cain’t remember if we did shut it down, and since Donny ain’t here, boss man put me in charge.”

  “So where the hell is Donny, and why don’t ya just call him?”

  “I did. He ain’t been seen since he took off this morning, trouble with his woman or somethin’, no one’s heard from him all day, and I think boss man’s gonna fire him and make me the second boss.”

  “Haha, he’ll never fire his own nephew, ya dumb bastard. Now tell me truth—why’re you here on my only day off this week? My boss makes everyone work extra before the gold and lumber season is over, and all the faggots go back home.”

  “I’m telling you the truth,” Noise said angrily.

  BBB looked out the window, but saw nothing, “Don’t you worry about nothing, you big lug, me and old Betsy here’ll take care of your shit.” She patted the shotgun in the crook of her arm, then raised it into the air and pumped it again—just like they do in the movies. Another shell ejected, hitting Noise in the face. Well, that never happened in the movies.

  BBB opened the door, ignoring Noise’s protest, and stepped out on the porch with her shotgun ready. The porch roof protected her somewhat from the storm and rain. The light by the door blinked a few times as she squinted into the darkness. “Where’d you see this teddy hear, Noise? I don’t mind me a new fur coat!” BBB laughed loud and yelled into the storm, “Come on, now, you furry piece of shit! Come and get some from old Beatrice and Betsy!”

  Again she pumped the shotgun—like they do in the movies—and she surveyed the forest edge. The wind caught something, and there was a loud noise from behind her pick-up truck, and it made her jump. She aimed in the air and pulled the trigger in an attempt to chase off who- or whatever was lurking out there, but nothing happened. She tried to fire again, but nothing happened this time either. Well, shit. Her shotgun was plugged, damn game warden made her do it, so it only held three shells…and all that pumping like they do in the movies had ejected them all. Cursing, she hurried back inside to the hallway, and looked around. On a shelf above the umbrella stand lay an opened box with more 12-gauge shells for the gun. She grabbed a few and hurriedly loaded the weapon. There was another sound from outside, sounded like something broke, which made her hurry some more.

  “You mighta been right, something’s definitely out there,” She locked and loaded again, but when she did she still had her finger on the trigger—and the shotgun went off, blowing a hole in the wall next to Noise, who ducked and hit the ground for shelter.

  Beatrice, being so worked up by now, only gave the hole in the wall a quick glance before she charged outside and fired two rounds into the darkness. Nothing happened. When she was satisfied, she went back inside.

  “Yeah well, whoever was out there must be gone by now, I think. ‘Sides, I didn’t see shit out there. Could be one of them vagabond gold miners lurking around. They’s all over the place, damn nigra sher’ff ought to do something about that shit, with all the break-ins and all.”

  Beatrice stomped into the kitchen, and slammed the shotgun down on the kitchen table. Opening the fridge, she grabbed two beer cans and handed one to Noise. After opening hers, she took a large sip and then burped loudly.

  “The sheriff ain’t a nigra, he’s one of them spics…wetback, I think,” Noise rumbled.

  Beatrice gave Noise a stare, and said, “Potayto, potahto.”

  “Yeah, well, you heard the sounds outside, din’t ya?”

  “Don’t matter. What’d you want?”

  “I need t’ borry that truck of yours.”

  “Kiss my ass.”

  “That can be done.” Noise gave her his most mischievous expression. “Look here, I’ll take you anywhere you need to go, and then go up the mountain, be back in a couple hours, and then I’ll join you. How’s that? Drinks on me, I’ll even fill her up for ya.” He moved closer to her and placed his large hands on her large shoulders. Beatrice blushed. “What do you say? I’ll even toss in a big bonus.”

  Before BBB knew it, she was whisked off the floor by the giant—Beatrice herself, who normally would need four paramedics to carry her on a stretcher—and was tossed on her own bed, giggling like a drunken schoolgirl.

  “No, no, NO you big lug, not there… WRONG HOLE, WRONG HOLE, WRONG HOLE!”

  “Potayto, potahtoes! Yee-ha!”

  (SLAP!)

  “You crazy bastard!”

  * * * * *

  OUTSIDE IN the rain, below the bedroom window, crouched a hulking dark shadow, listening to the love-making couple. It bled from a couple of minor wounds made by the pellets from a 12-gauge shotgun blast.

  It had been injured, and now it was furious.

  Christina slept like a baby in the huge, super king-size bed, completely bare, and hogged it all to herself. She woke up slowly and sighed, yawning while she stretched. For a second, she felt like she was being observed, and grabbed one of the thick blankets, covering herself. She sat up, looking around confusedly, not recognizing the place. Then she smiled as she remembered where she was.

  Again, the irritating feeling of being watched came over her. She looked around, and to her astonishment, she stared into a pair of eyes. It was a huge owl, sitting on a tree branch outside the window. Its head turned almost 180 degrees away from her, followed by several howls.

  She smiled at the owl, and then ran her fingers through her long, dark hair. She shook her head and rolled around in bed, relaxing. For the first time in a long time, she was feeling good about herself. The loss of her parent still lay in the back of her mind, and that feeling would never go away, she knew that. But in time she would learn to live with it, as everyone must do, to go on with her life.

  She rolled over on her back and stretched out spread-eagled, not worried about the winged peeping tom. She closed her eyes, and after a while opened one slowly and glanced towards the owl on the trunk; and how right she was. The bird had turned back its head facing her. She wrapped herself in a blanket, got out of bed, stuck her tongue out at the peeping tom, and closed the blind on the window.

  “Henceforth, thy name shall be The Peeping Owl. Yep, definitely a dude,” she said about the curious bird.

  She went into the gigantic master bathroom to take a shower, but changed her mind. When she looked out the window, she noticed that the storm from last night had eased; it wasn’t raining anymore. Maybe she’d go jogging first. She looked out the bathroom window at the large hot tub and the view. A hot tub indoors and another one outdoors—what a place!

  She returned to the bedroom and put on a T-shirt and shorts, then she walked barefoot into the open loft. Again, she was taken aback by the rustic beauty of her soon-to-be new home. That decision she had made almost instantly, but kept to herself. She hadn’t decided when she was going to break the news to Claire and Frank. She had to call Tom Billing and have him make all the arrangements. She had a million and one things going through her mind in the meantime. She definitely needed more furniture, and Frank had mentioned a company that custom-made it to buyer specifications. She also had to plan the move from L.A to her new place, and keep her new address a secret for as long as possible. That included not mentioning it to her agent, at least not for now.

  * * * * *

  SHE WENT downstairs into the kitchen and put on some coffee
. While it brewed, she checked the refrigerator. It was stocked with fresh food; clearly, she wouldn’t have to go to the store anytime soon. There was also the gift basket filled with fruit, wine, champagne, cheese, chocolate, and several dry sausages and some nice crackers and bread. The second picnic basket Claire had given her was also full of food; most of it she had put in the fridge. She made a mental note to return the basket; it looked a bit old, and Claire probably wanted it back.

  She drank some orange juice and ate a banana before taking her piping-hot coffee to the family room area, where she sat down in a nice, comfortable arm chair while sipping on the hot liquid and taking in the view outside. She couldn’t get enough of it. After her coffee break, she cleaned the kitchen, then ran upstairs to her bedroom where she changed clothes: a pair of old and unsexy underwear, old gray sweats, and plain white tube socks. She took out her sneakers and checked the soles; they were clean, so she put them on and stood to stretch her arms and legs.

  Just before she left, she jogged into the kitchen and opened a drawer; inside was a nice box. She opened it, and took out a high-tech watch. It belonged with the property, as it happened, and not only was it a watch, it was a smart-watch, with all the features of a smart-phone, plus one major addition: It was also hooked up to the property’s alarm system.

  She locked the doors as she left her soon-to-be new home. There were branches scattered across the front yard, courtesy of the storm. She would clean up the area later on, she decided. It was still drizzling a bit, but she decided that she would still go for a run.

  At first, she just walked along the sawdust path, which was still quite wet. She saw that despite the near-hurricane last night, the sawdust remained, for most part, where it had been laid. After walking for a few hundred yards, she started to jog slowly, until she’d built up her speed a good bit. She regretted not having any music to listen to while she ran, but today she wanted to learn about the lay of the land without any distractions. The air smelled fresh after the previous night’s rain, though branches, both dead and green, were strewn all over—including on the roof of the lodge—not just in the front yard. The storm had noticeably damaged the forest, and it was going to take a serious clean-up effort to clear the branches. Well, she had months to do it. She idly wondered if she could buy or rent a chipper, to make more sawdust for the garden paths, and maybe some compost. That sounded interesting.