Untamed

by Steven Harris

  Night matures as Frank drives away from Rochester and into a secluded town that has no buildings. The sky is free of clouds, making the full moon look grand and vivid behind the towering pine trees. He cruises his way down a pitch-black road with his headlights glaring.

  He continues to drive down this lonely road until a faint light can be seen, peeking through the pine trees from afar. He slows to a halt at an illuminated area blocked off by two squad cars, an old pickup truck, a couple of sedans, and burning road flares. Frank sees three state-troopers, an old man, and this tall casually dressed fellow talking together.

  The tall man, who is dressed in a light-gray suit, approaches and greets Frank as he exits his vehicle.

  “What we got Jones?” Frank asks the tall fellow as he steps out of his car.

  Jones shrugs his shoulders and shakes his face with a mystified expression.

  “It looks like an animal attack, but I’m not sure. It’s a bad one. Something is really strange about this Frank,” Jones talks as they cut between the squad cars and walk into a lit trail that goes deep within the forest.

  Frank follows behind Jones as they carefully walk through the narrow trail. Shortly, they arrive at the scene of the incident where four people, two men and two women, are examining the area for evidence. Frank sees the body of the victim resting awkwardly on the forest floor. This body belongs to a twenty-five year old college graduate named Adrian. She’s wearing navy-blue hiking gear and brown, low-top, boots.

  Her outfit is shredded and covered in blood, and her eyes are frozen in absolute dread. Her blood is still fresh enough to appear crimson on her clothes. Frank studies the body and calculates the time of death in his head. He estimates that she died around four hours ago. He also begins to take other things into consideration, like the amount of mud on her boots, the twigs protruding out of her clothes, and how her personal belongings are not with her.

  This tells him she had to be running for a while before her death. Also, by her frightened eyes, he knows she died terrified.

  “We found her just like this,” he informs Frank. “Her personal belongings are at a camping area a mile from here.”

  Frank kneels next to the woman’s lifeless body, which is constantly being illuminated by camera flashes. He then takes out a small flashlight from his pocket to observe the area better.

  “Any I.D?” he asks.

  “Adrian Singleton is her name. We already notified her parents. They said she came up here from Buffalo with her boyfriend.”

  “Hiking?” Frank asks.

  “Yup.”

  “And her boyfriend’s whereabouts?”

  “He’s missing too,” Frank's partner replies. “His family and friends didn’t hear from him since he left.”

  Using a pen, Frank lifts up her ripped shirt while holding the flashlight in the other hand. The light reveals a series of claw marks around a large cavity in her torso.

  “Holy-shit,” Frank says automatically when he sees the gaping wound.

  He covers her wound again and takes a second to gather his thoughts. The sight is so gruesome it manages to stupefy Frank. For someone in his line of work, that doesn’t happen very often. As he stares at her frightened eyes, his mind attempts to form a scenario. He can’t seem to connect the dots in his head.

  “What do you think about this?” Jones interrogates.

  “I have never seen anything like this,” Frank replies with confusion.

  “Tell me about it. What animal would rip someone open like this?” he asks Frank.

  “I don’t know, but I’m going to find out,” Frank responds.

  His eyes search around the forest floor for clues. He begins to prowl close to the ground; his eyes are more observant than ever. He scatters some twigs and sees several boot prints. He continues to observe his surroundings while a scenario plays out in his mind.

  “She ran for some time and was caught. There was a struggle that didn’t last very long,” Frank assumes as he continues to hunt for clues.

  He then spots something unusual and freezes at the first sight of it. It’s a pair of footprints, and they're not that far from the victim’s body.

  “Someone else was here. The person was barefooted.”

  As Frank takes some time to ponder, Jones kneels down next to him.

  “Maybe it was her boyfriend,” Jones replies.

  Frank considers that theory, but as he observes it closely, his partner’s accusation immediately slips from his mind. He moves closer to the footprints and concentrates the light onto it. The footprint is unlike a human footprint. The footprint is abnormally long with four toes instead of five.

  “These aren't human footprints,” Frank says. “Have you ever seen a print like that?” Frank asks his partner with a baffled expression.

  Jones bathes in his own thoughts for a moment.

  “Could it have been a bear?” Jones blurts out the first thing that sounds reasonable to him.

  “It doesn't look much like a bear print. Whatever the hell it was, it tracked her down. She held her ground and fought it. It didn’t work out in her favor, but there definitely was a bit of a struggle here,” Frank tells him with a hint of remorse towards the end of the sentence.

  Frank stands to his feet with his partner.

  “Jones, you know I never say this, but I have a bad feeling about this,” Frank admits as he continues to look at the body.

  “Same here,” Jones agrees. “I’ve never seen anything like this.”

  Suddenly, those peering eyes become busy again. Frank shines the light on the ground and finds another suspicious indentation. He moves closer to observe it. It’s another boot print, but the patterns in these boots are unlike the other.

  “Hold on one second. There were three people here,” Frank realizes.

  “You remember the old man who lives on the lake a couple miles down the road? Those are his boots. He’s the one who notified authorities. He supposedly saw something. When he came over to help her, she was already dead. You should go talk to him.”

  Shortly, Jones and Frank exit the forest and walks over to three state-troopers talking to a very upset elderly man in the middle of the road. The old man is wearing brown hunting clothes and rugged-leather boots on his feet. The cops are trying to lower the old man’s irritation, but they only seem to be adding fuel to his fire.

  “Sir, please calm down for a second,” Frank says in a dominating tone.

  Frank’s demanding tone works to an extent. The old man lowers his voice, but he is still ranting underneath his breath about how the troopers are too stupid to understand anything.

  “Officers, may I have a second?” Frank asks.

  “Sure,” a trooper replies and then steps aside.

  The others step back, making space between Frank and the older man.

  “Stupid son of a bitch,” the old man backfires at one of the troopers.

  “Hey! There’s no need for that kind of language. Take a breather,” Frank orders the old man.

  He manages to persuade the old man to calm himself, although his face is still red.

  “Start from the beginning please, without yelling,” Frank orders the old man.

  The old man sighs before starting over.

  “I heard some screaming. It was just before sunset. I was across the road,” he points behind himself towards the other side of the forest.

  “What were you doing out here?”

  “I was doing a little hunting. I didn’t catch any game so I decided to head home early. And that’s when I heard the screaming. My God, she was screaming something fierce too. Then I crossed the road. I had my gun ready because I knew somebody was in trouble. Then that’s when I saw her on the ground. She was probably forty-feet away from where I was standing.”

  The old man forces his emotions back before continuing.

  “She was just killed because her body was still shaking from the sh
ock.”

  Tears gather in the old man’s eyes, and this time it takes longer for him to continue the story.

  “Only if I was there a minute before,” he continues with guilt swelling in his heart.

  “Did you see anyone?”

  “Yes, I did,” he replies timidly. “I saw someone squatting down near her body. He had on a brown hood. I thought it was a man at first glimpse, but I don’t know what the hell it was.”

  “It?” Frank asks uneasily.

  “I saw its back. I mean the damn thing even squats down like a man and everything. It was looking down doing something. I couldn’t figure it out at first.”

  “Hold on, what are we talking about here?” Frank digs deeper.

  “Sir, I have no idea. It wasn’t any man though. I know that for sure. It looked like a man, had a body like one, but its face was deformed. Then it paused and started to sniff the air like a damn animal. It must have caught my scent because it turned and looked me dead in the eyes,” the old man pauses to swallow down his fear. “And the fear struck me so deep I couldn't move a muscle. I felt the fear in my soul,” he continues with terror returning in his voice. “And I can’t describe to you how ugly this thing was. It was grotesque. I would’ve killed it but,” he takes a moment to wipe the sweat off his face with the back of his hand. “If I wasn’t scared stiff I would've kill it. Then, in a blink of an eye, it was gone.”

  “Are you certain you didn’t see an animal?” Jones questions his testimony.

  “Damn it. Don’t give me that shit. They kept asking me the same thing. NO! It wasn’t an animal.”

  “Please, calm down,” Frank demands.

  The elderly man has built up too much momentum to stop now.

  “I’m telling you it was not human. This thing was a demon; a spawn of Satan.”

  “Enough. I’ll have them file a report sir,” Frank butts in abruptly. “Go home please and take it easy. The last thing we need is for you going around scaring people with ghost stories. Please escort this man to his truck.”

  A state-trooper tries to grab his shoulder but the old man snatches his arm away with aggression.

  “Let me finish. You know what I caught it doing?” the old man asks.

  The trooper comes over and grabs his shoulder again.

  “Sir, please step aside,” the trooper demands boldly.

  “I saw it eating,” the old man says in a grim voice.

  “Wait officer. What did you say?” Frank asks the elderly man.

  “I saw it eating,” he says loudly through his teeth.

  “Eating what?” Frank asks.

  “You saw her body detective. You know what I mean.”

  Frank is starting to feel a little timid. It’s the honesty in the man’s eyes that gives him the chills. The fact that the old man is absolutely petrified also plays a pivotal role as well. Frank is used to seeing dead bodies wash up. In the past, he came face to face with demented men. Still, he has not felt goosebumps until now.

  The darkness of the night, the faint glow of burning flares illuminating the old man’s wide eyes, creates a more disturbing atmosphere.

  “Sir, please clarify that,” Frank asks uneasily.

  “Don’t play stupid. You know exactly what I meant by that. I’ve seen her body and so have you. Whatever he took out of that girl, he was eating it. There are things I’ve seen, things that I have yet seen, and things I shouldn’t see. I will never forget what I saw. And the screams…oh my God...”

  “Whatever it is, I will find it. I’ll make sure of that. Now go home and get some rest,” Frank tells him.

  The old man shifts back at Frank, looking him square in the eyes. He slowly shakes his head at Frank’s remark.

  “You expect me to sleep? That's easier said than done my friend,” he tells Frank with frightened eyes. “That’s easier said than done.”

  Frank nods at the trooper, seeking his guidance. The trooper steps forward then escorts the older man away from the area. Immediately, Jones approaches Frank with tension in his eyes.

  “Are you really going to let him go? I think we should bring him in for further questioning. You believe that bullshit story he just told?”

  Frank shakes his head in disagreement.

  “He’s telling the truth. Well...his idea anyways. He definitely saw something. What exactly? I guess we’re going to find out sooner or later.”

  Jones blows out air in retaliation against his comment.

  “Notify the surrounding counties. Put out a missing persons' report on her boyfriend,” Frank demands.

  “Your call,” Jones replies hastily while walking towards his car.

  Frank takes one more look at the old man, who is throwing some of his belongings in the back of his truck. The old man then notices Frank watching him. Frank peers deeply into the old man’s disturbed eyes, searching for a flaw. He finds no dishonesty in his graying eyes. The old man opens the door of the truck and gets in.

  Frank watches him ignite the engine. The pickup truck cruises down the road until darkness defeats the truck’s headlights. Somewhere in Frank’s mind, he can’t help but ponder, “Maybe this old man is not as crazy as he seems.”…