Siege at Hawthorn Lake: Murder on the Mountain

by Paul G Buckner

  He knew that he didn’t have much time before the creature came back so began walking away from the direction the others went. He knew it was too cold to try to wait it out and stay idle. He had to get moving. He thought if he could make his way down he would eventually run into the road that led to the cabin. Alone in the dark on an unfamiliar mountain, he had no way of knowing which direction he was going so it was a huge gamble and he knew it. He had no choice. He couldn’t stay here.

  Using his flashlight sparingly he began at a quick pace only to stop and listen at intervals for any sound that something may be close by. The snow was falling heavily and he only used the flashlight pointing down at his feet. If he shined the light ahead, he couldn’t see beyond a few feet as the snow was too heavy. He had to rely mostly on his sense of hearing for signs of danger.

  He was beginning to feel the effects of the cold weather as the temperature dropped to what he figured to be hovering around twenty degrees, but the wind chill made it seem much colder. He had to keep pushing forward.

  When Phil was a young boy he had gone deer hunting with his uncle many times in a remote area in Oklahoma. Armed only with a handmade bois d ’arc bow and a hunting knife he was taught how to navigate the forest and survive off the land. He spent many days and nights alone in the woods. He became a seasoned hunter and very tough. He learned to respect the land and to give thanks for the great creator’s gifts of life.

  He was familiar with the climate and weather patterns in his home area, but not much with that of these mountains. He knew that in the fall the weather could be clear with crisp blue skies and generally dry, but snowstorms like this one were very common. The aspens had already begun changing colors and the elk mating season had come to an end. Many of the mountain roads were closed for the season in preparation for the treacherous overpasses.

  Walking became more and more labor intensive as the snow on the ground grew deeper. He was struggling intensely and he knew he was sweating too much. The sweat would get his clothing wet increasing his chances of lowering his body temperature and possibly frostbite. It was getting more difficult to trudge on each time he stopped to listen for pursuit. It was also harder to hear anything over the pounding of his chest and the heavy breathing. He was dizzy and he knew it was from the concussion, but there was little he could do about it. Once, he thought he heard the sound of shouting. He strained hard to listen, but heard nothing else; probably just the wind.

  Phil was pushing ahead in the ankle deep snow when he recalled a time he had gotten lost as a little boy. He had been out playing with several other kids in the woods near his grandfather’s home in Oklahoma. They had been swimming in the river when he saw a rabbit nearby on the bank. He became curious about it and began watching it closely. Soon, the rabbit hopped away, and Phil decided to follow it. The rabbit didn’t seem to mind that he was behind him and it even seemed as if he wanted Phil to follow him. The other boys never noticed him wonder off. The rabbit would stop and nibble on some grass here and there, but it never ran away or tried to hide. It allowed Phil to get very close before hopping, slowly away.

  ‘Where are you taking me, mister rabbit?” Phil would ask it, but the rabbit never spoke. Before long, he noticed that it was starting to get dark. He realized that he must have been gone for hours now and he didn’t know where he was. He looked around, but could not find any familiar land marks.

  “Mister Rabbit, I think we are lost.”

  The rabbit just sat there quietly munching on clover and never said a word.

  “That was a very mean trick you played on me,” He scolded the rabbit. “How am I going to find my way home now?”

  The rabbit, still, would not speak to him. He simply sat there munching on clover with his small nose twitching and staring up at the boy.

  Snapping out of his memory fog, he suddenly became aware of a new sound. At first, he couldn’t imagine what it could be. He was used to hearing the sound of the snowflakes falling to the ground like very light drops of rain. He stopped in his tracks and listened intently. It sounded like running water and he was very near it. He would have to be very careful in the dark. His flashlight was small, but powerfully bright. He had been careful to keep the beam pointed down and his fingers covering all but a small pin sized beam of light to see a few feet ahead. He dared not shine it ahead of himself very far because the light may give away his position to the creature who he hoped had given up on finding him. He hadn’t remembered seeing any streams during the daylight hours, but that didn’t mean much. There must be a hundred streams that came down out of these mountains and filled the lake and the rivers below. He was still descending, however, and his hopes of picking up the road soon were brightened by the stream gurgling. He could follow it down to the lake and from there he knew how to get back to the cabin and how to get back to safety!

  +++

  Craig had every light on the ATV turned on as he hammered the throttle down. He spun the wheel and the Razor cut through the snow like a plow through very fine sandy loam. He reached up to his chest and felt the reassurance of his .45 snuggly in its holster and then reached down and patted the SKS he had bungeed to the passenger seat. Giant grizzly or Sasquatch, he wasn’t afraid as long as he had his weapons to even the playing field.

  Up ahead he caught a glance of movement off to his right and he hit the gas cutting hard right. He flew between two large trees running over a few small saplings that slapped back up behind him. Once through the large natural gateway the ATV hit a small incline and went air-born straight up. The ATV landed with a huge crash as Craig turned the wheel sharply and hit the brakes, sliding sideways to a halt. He already had one hand going for the spotlight handle and the other drawing his .45. He saw the creature where he anticipated it would be and let go with several rounds. The report of the weapon was deafening. The creature roared loudly, out of being hit from the discharge or from anger Craig couldn’t tell. It had quickly disappeared behind a large stand of trees. He could see that it was huge, though he couldn’t make out anything more than it being bipedal and extremely large with black matted fur. He quickly reached for the SKS and brought it up ready to fire in case the beast charged. He shined the spotlight all over the area while keeping an eye out for possible escape routes through the trees. If he had to make a run, he would be ready!

  The Razor was suddenly jolted hard and Craig turned his head to look behind him while at the same time hitting the gas. The four-wheeler lurched forward and he turned the wheel sharply. The craft rocketed into a one-eighty spin. Somehow the beast had gotten behind him and had rammed the Razor. Craig had the SKS rifle across his chest with one hand on the wheel and one on the rifle grip. He quickly brought the rifle up to bear at the beast and let go with several rounds. This time Craig knew he hit it. The creature screamed in one of the most blood curdling rages Craig had ever heard. It literally shook him to his core. It was terrifying. The ATV lights were aimed directly at the beast and Craig could see it fully as the rage filled eyes stared straight at him before it bounded off into the woods. Craig triggered off several more rounds, but lost sight of it quickly.

  If a deer or other animal was wounded by a hunter, it was always best to be patient and not pressure the game. Often times a deer could run for miles after a mortal wound from a rifle or arrow only because the hunter pushed it to flee and allowed the animal’s adrenaline to keep it going. If left alone, the animal would usually expire within a few yards and tracking would be unnecessary. Under normal conditions, he would have waited a bit. This was not a normal situation.

  Once he made a quick study of the area he hit the gas and gave pursuit. He couldn’t let this thing catch him off guard again. There was nothing more ferocious than a wounded animal or one cornered.

  +++

  Troy suddenly sat bolt right up in the seat. Adrenaline kicked in when he heard the report of the heavy caliber pistol. He knew the sound very well. The report from a .45 was distinctive, especially out in the middle of now
here with no other sounds around except the falling of the snow. The pistol sounded quite some distance away, and it gave him hope, but at the same time trepidation. He knew that it had to be Craig and he felt good that he had a weapon with him. Craig was a big man and didn’t scare easily. Matter of fact, Troy never knew him to ever back down from anything. Craig wasn’t a bully though he was bull headed. He wouldn’t run from a fight, but Troy saw the beast with his own eyes. It wasn’t a bear! He knew exactly what it was though nobody would ever believe it if they didn’t see it for themselves.

  Troy’s mind reverted back to his ribs. He was in serious pain, and when he rose up suddenly from hearing the gun shots it sent more stabs of pain straight through him. He looked down at the shifter. Apparently, his quick reaction to the sound resulted in his subconscious effort to pull the shifter into four-wheel low. He gingerly reached over and gripped the regular shifter and notched it in reverse. Sitting back up, he put both hands on the wheel, straightened up, and leaned back into the seat.

  The snow was coming down heavy, but he knew the basic terrain here. He slowly pressed on the gas pedal and the Jeep began moving backward and then hung up. He tried to give it more gas, but it was stuck on something. He unbuckled his seatbelt, and opened the door. Holding onto his ribs with one arm he pushed the door open and crawled out into the gusting snow. He saw what he was stuck on right away. One of the branches from the tree had broken off and was stuck in the wheel well. Grimacing from the pain, he made his way around the door and reached down to pull the limb free. He was in serious pain and he was careful not to injure himself further. His hands were so cold that they felt like the skin was paper thin. As he pulled on the limb, his hands slid on the bark of the tree and the abrasions stung fiercely in the freezing weather. He was finally able to pull the limb free and returned back to the driver’s seat.

  With the limb freed from the wheel well he had no problems backing up away from the tree and there he stopped, reached back to the shifter and started to put it in drive when he heard more reports of more gun fire. This was a different sound, more rapid fire and several of them. After a few seconds, there were more shots echoing over the mountain. There was no way of knowing exactly where the shots were coming from, but he knew it could be quite some distance away. Whatever he was shooting at, Troy certainly hoped Craig hit it and stopped it!

  +++

  Phil heard the first shots. They were close, but how close he couldn’t tell. The sounds up here on the mountain tended to swirl with the wind. He stood completely still and quiet. He turned off the flashlight and listened intently. He couldn’t hear anything else except the hissing of the falling snow. If he were to guess, the sounds came from somewhere above his current position. He was getting very tired and dizzy, not to mention colder. He had cold weather gear on, but the exposure while on foot wasn’t in his favor. He couldn’t move quickly. The snow was piling up making his progress even more difficult.

  Different scenarios played out in his mind. It could be Troy and Craig coming for him and running into the beast. They may have killed it and now are looking for him. If that’s the case, then he could turn his flashlight back on and make himself more visible in the woods so that they would spot him. On the other hand, if they only scared the creature away, it could be running from the gun shots and could run directly at him! He needed to keep moving in order to keep the warmth in his body. If he stayed still too long, it would prove to be much more difficult to get started again. The cold would certainly begin sitting in on his aching limbs. He decided to stay on his current path of descent as it would be much easier on him than trying to climb up the mountain.

  He flipped his flashlight back on and placed it in his hand where his fingers could cover the majority of the beam leaving just enough light to see where he was stepping. He took a few steps and heard more shots that stopped him in his tracks. Those were different than the first one. Those he knew very well. That distinctive sound was the rat-tat-tat of an SKS rifle, and that certainly had to be his friends. They must’ve been able to get away and get back to the cabin for weapons. He knew they were out looking for him now and the fear of being caught alone by the beast was dissipating somewhat. He picked up his steps and began moving quicker. The adrenaline coursed through his veins like electricity through copper wires in a house, extending to every limb and giving him a boost of strength. Unfortunately, it also increased his heart rate and hearing impairing his vision. He never noticed he was standing too close to the stream until the ground gave way beneath his feet.

  Chapter 14

  The Jeep had no trouble gaining traction, and Troy was able to climb back up on to the road with little effort. He knew it would take a good hour to get to town even if he was in good shape and the roads were clear. His first priority would be to find the sheriff and send help out here, and then he would have to get to the emergency room and see the doctor. The heat felt good on his legs so he turned it up another notch. He could only drive about twenty-five miles per hour at best and with the snow coming down as hard as it was, it would only become more difficult slowing his progress. That was very worrisome. If he was having a difficult time traversing the roads, then obviously it would be just as difficult for any rescue vehicles. All of the sheriff’s deputies in town drove four-wheel drive vehicles, but they were no better off than the Jeep. When it came to rugged terrain, there weren’t many vehicles better suited than the Jeep Wrangler. This wasn’t simply a matter of rugged terrain. It was a matter of clear passes through this winter storm.

  The vehicle bounced in and out of potholes hidden in the road by the snowfall. Troy felt every last one of them and the pain to go along with them. The heat felt great on his legs, but it was also making him a little drowsy. Falling asleep at the wheel was the last thing he needed so he cracked the window to get fresh, cold air on his face.

  Finally, he made it to the main highway into town and turned on to it. The dirt road sloped up onto the highway and the transition was deep with snow, but it gave the Jeep no trouble. Road signs marked the edges of the highway route with passing lanes and caution signs. He had spent the better part of an hour on the dirt road and was about half-way to town at this point. He wasn’t able to make any better time and in fact, the highway wasn’t nearly as passable as the dirt road had been. A million thoughts kept running through his head. What would the sheriff think of the story? Have Craig and Phil shot and killed the beast? Are they safe? Should he even mention the fact that it was a nine-foot tall creature that walked upright like a man? Would the sheriff believe him at all or should he simply say that it was a bear that attacked them and leave it at that?

  He reached over and turned on the radio. Maybe he could hear something about the weather. He toggled through the stations until he found the one he wanted and left it there. This was a local radio station that gave weather reports often, as well as information about any roads that had been declared unpassable. The thought just occurred to him that the road that he was on currently could be closed if the weather got much worse. He struggled to tell where the road was and tried gauging it by the flatness of the terrain. The headlights against the brightness of the falling snow weren’t much help in seeing more than a few feet at a time. Unfortunately, the radio station was already set to automated playback and there were no live updates - just country music playing with commercials sandwiched in between.

  As the air in the Jeep warmed, Troy began coughing which caused his rib cage to tighten. The pain was agonizing and a few times he thought he would pass out. He was sweating profusely and he was extremely weakened. He slowed down until he could refocus and get past the nausea that the pain and the coughing were causing. He knew he had to get to the doctor quickly. The deserted stretch of highway was undulating and twisting, but at the pace he was forced to drive, it wasn’t difficult. There were a few areas of the highway that had fairly steep descending grades and he handled those by slowing down to a crawl and simply allowing the Jeep’s engine brake t
o keep the wheels slow and steady.

  The snow was falling just as hard as ever when he reached the edge of town. He noticed the clock on the radio was 3:47am which meant that he had been driving for over two hours and he had seen no other vehicles along the way. Why would he? Not only was it early in the morning, but when storms like this hit, no one came out in it unless it was absolutely necessary. He was struggling to stay conscious, but his injuries were taking their toll on his body. Each time he coughed, he felt the intense pain from his broken ribs pierce through his body. He was now sweating and shaking uncontrollably and his hands could barely stay on the steering wheel. The Jeep rolled through the traffic light at the east end of town, never stopping for the bright, red light. The vehicle suddenly careened into a snow drift on the side of the road coming to a stop and remained motionless in the powdery embankment. The one good headlight of the Jeep buried in the snow as if it was the flame of a candle snuffed out by the wind. The soft yellow glow of the street lights was the only witness to the incident.