by D M Shepard
“What do you think?” Ulrik asked as they surveyed the swarm of prints in the snow from the night before. Using their skis, they ventured partially into the stand of birch and spruce near the cabin and part-way up the ravine. After a few yards into the woods, the tracks vanished, just like the previous day. The creatures appeared to scale the trees, then continue on, effectively disguising their trail. Both Ulrik and Rose scanned the frosty canopy above with wary eyes.
“I think we should head back. Though the days are getting longer, we’ve got maybe four or five hours of daylight—tops. And we’ve wasted two packing the sled and trying to track these things. It’s going to take us at least three to four hours to travel back to the lodge. We should get moving.”
*****
Rose sat upright as they pulled into the clearing of the old homestead. The cold radiating through her gloves from the aluminum supports as she gripped them matched the terror in her core. She could hear Ulrik mutter a string of curse words. A proliferation of tracks and debris disturbing the blanket of white in every direction made Rose’s skin prickle. She reached for her .44 as the sled came to a halt. Despite the cold, sweat broke out under her layers. She shivered as she assessed the damage. The old wooden door hung shredded on its hinges in the fading light of the setting sun. Plywood that had covered two of the lower front windows littered the porch and ground. Deep gouge marks raked up and down the knotted birch supports for the awning.
“Oh my God,” Rose said as she hopped out. She scanned the surrounding forest. The sun had sunk below the treeline on the distant mountains, and all was fading into soft shadows. Ulrik unshouldered his .338 and made sure his Beretta was easy to access. He unhitched the dog’s leads from the gang line. The dogs darted in different directions. Ulrik observed them closely, taking note of their cues. They ran back and forth, sniffing the prints left behind, but gave no indication that whatever had torn up the lodge lingered nearby.
Rose followed a few paces behind Ulrik, noting the prints were much like the previous ones from both this morning and yesterday, except there seemed to be many more, from every direction.
She put a gloved hand to her chest, breath coming in quick rasps. A deformed creature was one thing, even a pack of them, but this was something else. And they’d obviously angered them.
Why had they waited? Why didn’t it attack them directly? Why trash everything? Had the same creatures followed them on purpose out to Dan Creek? Or were these a different group? Why didn’t they attack last night while they slept? Was it really the dogs?
Sucking in too deep of a breath of the harsh, bitter air, Rose’s mouth went dry as she inspected the destruction inside the cabin from the threshold. The two wooden chairs had been reduced to splinters. The bed platform and mattress lay in shreds of fluff all over the floor. Anything that hadn’t been nailed down was ripped to pieces. Claw marks raked the walls. The cabinets she and Penny repainted two years ago were torn apart like cardboard. All the carefully stored contents lay strewn across the room and mangled. Her jaw gaped as she recognized the shattered chunks of black iron and ceramic coating that had been the Dutch oven they’d used the first night to cook the chili. The old cast-iron wood stove lay on its side in a crumpled heap, wrenched from the wall. Metal remnants of the stovepipe fluttered in the breeze.
Rose shook her head, eyes darting around, taking in the carnage. Before Ulrik could speak, she touched his shoulder. “We need to leave—now.”
“We’ll head to the Iverson’s Lodge. If we start now, we might make it before it gets totally dark.”
Without further prompting, she sprinted to the sled and climbed back in the basket. Ulrik whistled for the dogs and harnessed them to the conveyance. It lurched forward again, at breakneck speed. They raced through the forest, driven on by the urgency in Ulrik’s tone.
Rose’s mind wandered as icy scenery flew by and night began to fall. Her hand twitched on her revolver, arm aching. What kind of creatures were they? What would vandalize the lodge like that, and why? Sure, bear and wolverine could break in and wreak havoc, but they wouldn’t leave tracks like that, not so many. They would tear things up and depart, or curl up and stay and sleep. These things were smart, almost spiteful in what they did. They went out of their way to destroy anything usable. Bear and wolverine were curious and often destroyed things looking for food, or because they got frustrated or scared, but nothing like that.
And then there was Aaron.
Did he want me to come out here alone so those things would attack me? Like they did Penny? Why? What would he have to gain? It seemed innocuous enough when he gave it to her, claiming to have found it amongst Penny’s things. Her chest twinged as she thought of his duplicity, and how she’d fell for it without even questioning it.
“We’re almost there,” Ulrik said, interrupting her thoughts.
The distinct odor of rot rattled her train of thought. She focused on the forest, throat constricting as she swallowed down the queasiness in her stomach. Yanking her .44 free of the stiff, cold leather, her heart increased pace. A pair of giant yellow eyes leered from the darkening canopy of the trees. The distinct odor of decay, like she’d smelled the first night at Penny’s, and last night when the thing was on the porch, permeated the air, growing stronger with every breath. A pearly, evanescent cloud obscured her vision as a tall birch fell in slow motion across the path.
“Watch out!” she screamed as Thor and Loki dodged the falling hazard. The sled whipped sideways as branches knocked Ulrik off the footboards, sending him sprawling into a drift. Out of control, the sled upended, skidding and sliding sideways along the trail and slamming into a snowbank. Rose tumbled out of her seat, rolling against the hard-packed snow. An old spruce log halted her flight with a rough hit to her ribs. Pain shooting up her arm, fingers aching, she managed somehow maintain her hold on her pistol. Her entire body protested the waves of agony as she wrenched herself to her feet. Her only thought was to protect them from those eyes. Loki and Thor strained against their harnesses, growling and snapping at the woods. The aluminum sled creaked and groaned, wedged in the snowbank.
“Rose, are you okay?” Ulrik shouted, jumping over the fallen tree and rushing toward her, white flakes settling on his balaclava and shoulders. He yanked his .338 from his back, ice crunching as he ran.
“Ulrik, behind you!” she cried, aiming her gun at the tawny, glowing eyes closing in. He dropped to the frozen ground as the hairy creature lunged with its claws.
“AHH!” he yelled, face contorting as the thing swiped at his back. Rose heard the fabric shred as the long black talons raked his parka. He rolled with his rifle, ready to defend himself. It snarled, revealing razor-sharp obsidian fangs, as it loomed over Ulrik, raising an arm for a lethal strike. Its ovaloid head exploded as she opened fire.
Smoke danced from the barrel like a sluggish gray ghost in the frigid breeze. Rose stared, breathless, at the shaggy monster. Its humanoid body writhed on the ground, long tail whipping like a snake. Wicked onyx claws grated the hard-packed snow in its death throes. Tar-black blood oozed along the glistening ivory surface, freezing almost instantly in the growing darkness.
“What is it?” she asked, a cold sweat forming her body as she leveled her gun at the surrounding woods. The birch and spruce came alive with enormous, cat-like yellow eyes. The glowing spheres moved closer, icebound sprigs crackling. White powder filled the gloom as the creatures disturbed the brace of frozen trees. Snow and ice clattered from the needles and branches in a nerve-racking cacophony.
Ulrik’s hand ached from the grip on the stock of the gun. He grabbed Rose by the arm and dragged her back to where Thor and Loki snapped and snarled at the eyes looming in the darkness of the forest. With a quick jerk, he dislodged the sled.
“It’s broken,” she said, voice raising in pitch as she pointed to the right runner and stanchion, bent at an odd angle. Her eyes darted around the woods. Her pistol oscillated in time with the quaking of her hand. She clutched he
r left side, taking shallow rapid breaths. Loki and Thor howled, hackles raised, teeth bared at the shapes slinking in the snow-covered trees and brush.
He cursed and straightened it somewhat. “That will have to do for now. We’ll just go slow,” he said, helping her to stand in front of him on the foot boards. She braced herself against the handle bar, holding her .44 pointed at the gloomy understory.
The dogs dragged the crippled sled through the gauntlet of watchful eyes the remaining distance through the forest. The creatures didn’t try to dislodge another tree, but they made sure to shake the branches. Mounds of snow, ice, and debris bombarded them as they crept by.
Stabbing waves of pain from her side made Rose grit her teeth as she gripped the handle bar. The cold aluminum radiated through the glove of her good hand, she wished she could put it against her aching ribs. She kept her good arm trained on the creatures keeping to the cover of the trees. She refrained from opening fire, even as the creatures chittered and mocked them, pelting them with ice and sticks. Ulrik looped one arm around her, pressing her between the bar and his body. She could feel Ulrik’s muscles jerk from time to time as a branch or a chunk of snow came close, or the dogs would tug, trying to run after a teasing shadow.
Not daring to close her eyes for more than an instant, she trained her gaze on the creatures infiltrating the trees. She swallowed hard, doing her best to ignore the sickly-sweet, decaying odor that drifted on the wind. Shifting her feet, her knees began to quake from fatigue, but she continued to focus. The tip of the barrel wavered as the sled inched along the path at what seemed a snail’s pace. Ulrik heaved a huge sigh, giving her a gentle squeeze. The dogs mushed faster toward the glowing lights of the roadhouse that shined through the thinning trees. A luminous, crescent silver moon hung in the sky as the trail opened up. The path smoothed out as they pulled into the clearing in front of the lodge. The peculiar dead scent lessened, and the creatures ceased their assault, melting away into the winter night.
THE IVERSONS
Ulrik sighed with relief to see lights in the windows. Smoke curled from the chimneys like silver snakes in the light of the moon. Loki and Thor panted with exhaustion, frothing at the mouth as they raced into the yard. Ulrik’s legs ached from pressing on the dragmat to rein in the malamutes. He had to bark stern commands to the dogs a few times to keep them from going after the tailed monsters. He didn’t want to risk another wreck. By the way Rose clenched her left arm to her side, and her colorless pallor, she was more injured than she let on.
As soon as he unharnessed the animals, both threw back their heads, calling out into the darkness like they had the night before. Wolf song echoed back in the still night. He studied the woods surrounding the lodge. While he couldn’t be sure, now and then, he thought glowing orbs winked from the interior of the forest canopy. Those things still watched their every move in the pallid moonlight. He grunted with the strain as heaved the whole sled with their gear in, cuts on his back itching and burning.
“C’mon Rose,” he said as he gripped her arm, tugging her inside. It took some effort to make her to move. She seemed frozen in place on the porch, intent on holding her weapon level at the woods. As the door slammed shut behind them, Edna Iverson’s silver and black braided head jerked up from where she read a tattered book behind the highly polished oak desk. She flicked her Marlboro into a stained-glass ashtray on the counter. A thin, gray trail of smoke wafted into the air, as ashes tumbled into the container. She took a sip from a flowered coffee cup before placing it back on the frayed, hand crochet ivory doily that served as a coaster.
“Ulrik! Rose! I wasn’t expecting you,” she cut herself short, cigarette halfway to her mouth. One eyebrow raised and her chestnut-brown eyes narrowed as she took in their disheveled appearance and Rose’s drawn Smith and Wesson.
“I’ll get you a room and some food. I take it there’s a story?” she said, pulling a set of keys from the drawer as the brown skin of her forehead creased.
“Yes.” Ulrik answered. “Are you expecting anyone else this evening?” he asked. The handmade gingham curtains rustled as he parted them. He wiped the frost off the cold glass and peered out into the deepening gloom. Yellow glints of light still flickered in the darkness.
“I only have one other guest, but he said he’d be out all night tonight. He can get in through the garage. He has a key for the deadbolt, and he can call on the intercom,” Edna said. Ulrik flipped the deadbolt and dropped the wooden crosspiece over the door.
“I’ll explain later,” he said. Edna nodded. Cigarette hanging out of one corner of her mouth, she grunted, knees cracking as she climbed up on the step stool behind the desk. She stretched for the Mossberg 12 gauge mounted on the wall. It echoed as she chambered a shell and placed it under the counter.
“You two can have the honeymoon suite, I had it cleaned last week.” The polished brass key shined in her thin brown hands as she handed it to Ulrik. She checked the cuckoo clock over the fireplace. “It’s only six now. I can have dinner ready around eight or so.”
“That’ll be great. Maybe a bottle of wine too,” he said, looking at Rose’s pale face as she clutched her revolver and her left side.
“I’ll let Dick know you’re here,” she said, as she picked up her cigarette and came around the bar. She took a puff, end glowing red as she put her hands on her thighs and crouched over the bent aluminum runner. “I’m sure he wants to hear all about this.”
“Yes, he will,” Ulrik said as she walked toward the lodge’s garage. He detached their packs from the sled. Shouldering his .338, he carried both while Rose’s eyes scanned the living area of the Lodge, .44 pointed at the floor. Loki and Thor greeted the Iverson’s dogs with friendly barks and licks, then followed close as they made their way up the stairs to the room Edna had given them.
Rose re-holstered her handgun and held the door open while Ulrik carried their gear in.
“Ulrik! You’re bleeding!” she exclaimed as she shut the door. He tossed the bags down and grimaced as he rubbed his back, fingers coming away with congealing blood.
“It doesn’t hurt too bad, just a scratch,” he said, setting out food and water for his animals. The sounds of Thor and Loki crunching and slurping filled the room. The muscles in his back protested his movements, cuts stinging with every twitch. “If you’re going to worry over anything, worry over yourself. How’s your side?”
“Okay, just bruised,” she insisted, clutching her arm to her body.
“Let me see,” he said.
“Only if you let me look at that scratch,” she retorted, jutting out her chin and motioning toward him with her good hand.
“In a bit. First, I want to go talk to Edna and Dick.” He tugged off his parka and snow pants.
“Ulrik, do you think they’ll try coming in here tonight?” she asked, checking and reloading her weapons.
He frowned at the crimson gouges down the back of his parka as he removed his outer gear next to the door. He swallowed hard at the sight of drying blood as he hung them on the hook and shook his head. “I think we were right about them not liking dogs,” he motioned to Loki and Thor. They had finished eating and curled up on the rug in the corner, eyes following him as he talked. Rose hung her parka next Ulrik’s, then she peered out the window as well. The fuel tank for the generator stood about 50 yards behind the building. Floodlights mounted on the back of the lodge cast a glowing circle on the other outbuildings the couple had built over the years. The dark, snowbound, boreal forest lay beyond. Faint green and purple northern lights danced overhead, but her mind was too burdened with unease to delight in them.
“But they attacked us tonight, and we had the dogs with us,” Rose said, turning away from the window and closing the curtains tight.
“And they didn’t attempt to attack me or the dogs on the way the lodge the other night, and that thing ran from them after it got out. Last night, at the service cabin, they stalked us, but didn’t try to get close; especially once the
dogs were on the porch with me. Instead, they tore up Penny’s cabin while we were gone. Tonight, they only attacked after we were away from the sled, but they tried to take out the dogs with the tree.” He reached down and gave them a pat. “I’m glad they have good reflexes.”
“Did you notice the smell?” she asked, wrinkling her nose.
“Yeah, sweet and sick. Like rotten dead things.”
“What do you think they are, Ulrik?” she asked. “That thing I shot; it wasn’t a wolverine. It looked almost like an extremely hairy person, but with a tail.”
“I think it was what my Nana Millie would call the ‘Tailed-Ones’,” Ulrik said.
“The ‘Tailed-Ones’? What’s that?”
“You remember the legends my Nana Millie, from the village, used to tell?” Rose nodded. “A lot of them were ghost stories. You know, stuff to make us behave. Monsters in the lakes and rivers that would drown kids, talking ravens that trick you.” He shrugged, biting his lip against the stinging tenderness that radiated from his back. “She told us a creepy story once about people with tails that lived in caves and trees. Mom told Millie she couldn’t tell you. She didn’t want to scare you.”
Rose tried to lift her pack and winced as her side throbbed. Ulrik grabbed it and moved it to the chest at the end of the king-size bed. She flashed him a grateful smile.
“Anyway, the Tailed-Ones were the enemies of the Athabascan tribes. They lived in a forbidden valley and would kill hunters from the tribe, and make young women disappear.” Ulrik’s dark eyes flickered over her, something in his gaze causing the heat in her body to rise.
“What would happen to the young women?” Rose asked, skin prickling on her arms. She had the feeling she already knew.
“She, uh, didn’t...uh...go into much...detail,” Ulrik answered rubbing his chin, tan cheeks turning scarlet. The way his jet-black eyes slid away and his Adam’s apple jerked up and down as he swallowed made her almost want to grin. He was a terrible liar. If they weren’t discussing such a grim topic, it would almost be funny. Was he embarrassed to tell her that the young women were kidnapped and raped?