The Beast of Brenton Woods

by Jackson Thomas

  “For nothing?” he spat. “You don’t have a goddamn clue what I’ve lived with my whole life.”

  “Undo that belt. And throw it over there,” she said, nodding to her right.

  He grunted, but followed her instructions. When the utility belt landed in the brush, he raised his hands. “May I continue?”

  “No, you may not. I don’t much care about your self-righteous justifications, or whatever delusional reasons you’ve convinced yourself makes killing your fellow officers o-fucking-k. Save it for the jury. Now get up, like before, nice and slow.”

  That shut him up. He was seething as he stood.

  Good.

  “Now,” she held the shotgun pointing at his chest as she reached back with her left hand and tossed her handcuffs to him. “Put those on, behind your back.”

  He caught them, then cuffed his right wrist and paused.

  “You give any thought to how you’re going to take on the white wolf by yourself? You’re the one who was so sure it couldn’t be done alone. You sure you don’t want my help?”

  She followed his gaze to where his rifle lay. Silver bullets.

  The bastard used the moment to move on her. Turning back in the nick of time, she held her ground and did as promised.

  The blast was deafening.

  He’d seen her react enough to try and get out of the shot’s radius. He’d dived right, but the blast still hit him.

  He lay rolling on his side. His left arm was missing from the bicep down. She could hear the blood squirting to the ground as he moaned behind clenched teeth, grateful that it was dark enough to hide most of the details.

  He was tough as nails or too stubborn to scream.

  She pumped the handle discharging the spent shell and loading the next one.

  “I warned you, sheriff. Now, let me take care of that before you lose more blood than you can afford.”

  Through his gritted teeth, he said, “You stay the fuck away from me.”

  “Sir, you’re going to bleed out.”

  “Don’t sir me, you patronizing bitch.”

  Ignoring him, Kathy undid the sheriff’s other belt, pulled it through his loops and made a tourniquet for on what remained of his arm. He didn’t even fight her. He didn’t have the strength left in him. She wasn’t sure the tourniquet would be enough. She should cauterize the wound, but all she had was his matches.

  The moment of helplessness was over when the white wolf stepped into the clearing and howled its arrival not a hundred feet from where she sat crouched next to the sheriff.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Wendy got to her feet. It still hurt to move from the werewolf’s violation, but her fear and concern for her brother wouldn’t allow her to wallow in her own pity. She would have the rest of her life for that if she could get them out of this.

  The beast had replaced the cage door with a heavy slab of rock. The remains of the old door lay scattered around her. She found the thickest spear she could and wedged it at the opening in the upper left-hand corner. She pried with all she had but couldn’t get it to budge. She stepped back and re-evaluated the blockade. There was another smaller space at the bottom of the same side. There was a broken piece of a two-by-four at the far wall of her cage. She crossed the small space and picked it up, placing it in front of the bottom opening to use as a fulcrum. Wedging the spear in the hole, she leaned back using all her weight, and tried to move the barrier, even just the slightest. A grinding sound accompanied the minor movement. She filled with excitement before the grinding sound grew louder and the slab fell forward. She threw herself backwards as it raced toward her.

  The rock landed inches from her toes. Relief flew through her as she got up and hurried out through the opening. The torch still burned. She pulled it free from its holder and headed to the mouth of the cave, but the werewolf was gone. She just hoped Johnny was still alive. She needed pants. Venturing back in, she found the killer’s bed. A tattered army cot, a filthy blanket, and some random junk. A small pile of clothes was crumpled at the end of the bed. She picked up a crusty pair of sweats. Nothing could be more disgusting than what she’d just been through. She slipped into the pants, and with torch in hand, hurried outside.

  “Johnny,” she whispered. “Johnny,” she said, this time just a little louder.

  As she walked to the ledge, she saw a shape on the path down below.

  “Wendy…”

  He was alive! She started down, slipping and sliding her way over the loose rock and gravel.

  “Oh my god, Johnny. Are you all right?” Waving the torch over him, she could see that he was pretty far from okay. The compounded break in his upper leg almost made her throw up. His femur was sticking out at the bottom of his blood-drenched shorts.

  “Did you see where it went?” she asked before he could answer.

  “Back down the pass, I think. I heard a gunshot. It’s probably Sheriff Decker. He’s hunting it, and he’s fucking crazy. I think he was going to kill me.”

  “The sheriff?”

  “Yeah, he’s not right, Wendy.”

  She watched him as he looked her over. Shame flooded through her.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  “I will be,” she said, not looking at him. “We need to get you out of here.”

  “Good fucking luck. I can’t get up, let alone walk. And you sure as hell ain’t about to carry me out of here.”

  “Maybe I can use some things from the cave to make a stretcher. Maybe I could drag you out?”

  “Bryan!” he said.

  “Where is he?”

  “He was supposed to meet me at the Point, but God, I don’t even know how long ago that was. Hours at least.”

  “Maybe it got to him.”

  “Don’t talk like that, Wendy. You should at least go check. I can’t or I would.”

  “Johnny, you’ve known him forever. Would he just sit there and wait?”

  He stuck out his bottom lip and looked away.

  He knew better than she did that Bryan wouldn’t sit there for more than ten minutes. He’d come find them.

  “I don’t think we have the luxury of time for me to confirm what we already know. Do you?”

  He shook his head from side to side.

  “I’ll be right back.”

  The climb up the ledge was harder than she expected. When she reached the cave, she ignored all the voices screaming at her to turn around and to never step foot in here again. None of it mattered right now, only getting her brother somewhere safe and out of range of that creature. She returned to the scum fucker’s bed and pulled back the filthy, piss-smelling blanket. She swatted the leaves and brush from it and grabbed the broken cot. She lifted it up, and tons of bugs crawled out, no doubt pissed off about being disturbed for the first time in who knew how long. Only one of the legs remained intact in the underside. She grabbed the torch and dragged the cot with her out of the cave and to the ledge.

  She scurried down, sliding, but still managed to hold onto both the torch and the army surplus cot.

  “That’s great,” Johnny said, “but where the hell are you going to pull me?”

  She certainly couldn’t get him up to the Point. “I don’t know, but I can’t leave you out here in the open. It probably thinks you’re dead, but I can’t take the chance of it coming back when it’s done out there to make sure.”

  “Didn’t you and Bryan have some kind of fort out here when you were kids?”

  “Yeah, but I’m sure its fallen apart, rotted away, or been ransacked by all the kids who tromped out here after us.”

  She remembered it. She was always jealous that they wouldn’t let her in. They would look at their music mags and smoke cigarettes thinking they were too cool for school. It was at the bottom of the pass behind a copse of trees almost directly below the Point.

  “I can get us there. I’ll leave you in whatever’s left of it and get out and go for help.”

  She didn’t wait for a reply.

&n
bsp; “Here,” she said, shoving the torch into his hands. “I’m going to squeeze this under you. You’re gonna have to roll that way.”

  He did as she said, wincing and whining at the stabbing feeling in his side. He couldn’t breathe, but he did what had to be done.

  “Okay, you can roll back.” She put a hand under his shoulder and one under his hip, trying to support him as he came down sucking in breath.

  “This promises to be a bumpy ride, but it might just save your life. Ready?”

  He bit his lip against the pain, and nodded.

  “Try to stay as quiet as you can, okay?”

  She moved to his head, and crouched and gripped the two tin poles on either side. She hefted the weight and started the journey.

  “Should I put this out?” Johnny managed through gritted teeth.

  “Yeah, probably for the best.”

  He tossed it aside and instantly regretted it as more sharp pains attacked his insides. He cried out before bringing his fist to his mouth.

  “Sorry,” he whimpered before biting down on his knuckles to keep from doing it again.

  The dragging noise was quieter than she imagined. Another thing to be grateful for in this night of horrors. Maybe something good was shining on them. She glared at the full moon above. Maybe not.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Bruce Davison stood at the kitchen sink, staring out at the night sky. He hadn’t seen the beast with his own eyes, but he’d seen what it had done to the bodies. The full moon lighting up the dark tonight was more than met the eye. He’d tried the Grantham County Sheriff’s department five times in the last hour. The only other time he didn’t an answer it was due to Lloyd’s night after Mexican food.

  All the rumors and stories were true. There was a werewolf in Brenton Woods.

  “Where are you going?” Nellie asked as he opened the front door.

  “I can’t sit here not knowing if they’re all right.”

  “Come back home. Promise?”

  “I’ll see you for breakfast.”

  He shut the door and hopped in his Suburban and headed toward Coopers Mills.

  He knew it was bad when he saw what looked like every cop car in a fifty-mile radius blocking his way over the Travis/Coopers Mills line.

  He pulled behind one of the State Trooper SUV’s and got out.

  “I’m Bruce Davison, coroner at Grantham General. I can’t contact the Sheriff’s—”

  “Stop right there,” the Trooper’s nametag read, Mikolos. “We’re well aware of the situation at the sheriff’s department.”

  “Well, I’m not!” Bruce barked louder than he meant to. “Sorry, Trooper, but I’ve been friends with Dennis, Kathy, and Lloyd for too many years to be shooed away. What the hell is going on out here?”

  “Sorry, Mr. Davison,” Mikolos replied. “No one has heard from Sheriff Decker or his deputies since the sheriff headed into the woods here with an officer from the Travis police. Neither has come back out, and the officer that remained at the original scene, called in gunshots before he ignored orders and rushed in after them. Now all three are in there, none replying. We have an army of good cops here and we’re heading in.”

  “What about Kathy Wilcox? Lloyd Brannigan? Or even Kenny Rutherford?”

  “Silence. Rutherford was part of the initial scene. We have reason to believe he crashed a civilian off the road and pursued her into the woods.”

  Bruce thanked the trooper and started by him.

  “Whoa,” Trooper Mikolos said, stick his arm in front of Bruce.

  “Sorry, I can’t let you go in there.”

  “The hell you say?”

  “Do you have a firearm?”

  Bruce lifted his Red Sox t-shirt and showed off the Ruger on his hip.

  “I have to warn you. We’ve got something big out there with them.”

  He knew something this officer was clueless about. That big something was that they were fucking around out here with a werewolf.

  “I know damn well what’s out there terrorizing my friends. Probably better than you.”

  “How’s that?”

  “Trooper, I’ve picked up two bodies since Friday. And when I say, “picked up,” I mean I picked up the pieces that were left of them. I know what’s out there with our officers. Do you?”

  “Could be a mountain lion, or a wolf.”

  Bruce smirked. “Put the two angriest most ruthless killing version of those together, and put it upright like a man, and you’re on your way to understanding what you have on your hands.”

  He didn’t wait for it to sink in, if it even would. Bruce just pulled his coroner laminate out of his shirt and started toward the front of the pack. They had already begun to file into the woods. The army of flashlight beams was like a wave of candle lights spilling into the darkened trees.

  It wasn’t more than two minutes before someone yelled out, “Bodies, we got bodies…oh God...”

  Bruce had an idea what they were looking at. He just hoped it wasn’t Kathy, Dennis, or Lloyd. He didn’t feel the least bit bad about leaving Kenny Rutherford of that list.

  He’d find out soon enough.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  Kathy froze.

  “Get my…rifle… hurry...,” Decker said. He sounded like he was drunk. The blood loss was too significant, he’d be dead in an hour. Probably much sooner.

  She bolted for the gun. The beast broke into full stride coming at her.

  She prayed the safety was off and the damn thing was already chambered. She managed to get to the gun and raise the barrel as the monster launched into the air.

  She pulled the trigger, but the safety was on.

  She found the button and switched it off as she rolled left. The creature landed and spun on her.

  “Fuck you,” she said as she pulled the trigger.

  BANG

  The bullet found its mark, nailing the beast between the chest and shoulder. He fell backwards in a daze as if confused by what had just struck it.

  Kathy squeezed off two more shots, striking it in the neck and back as it tried to get away.

  Oh no you don’t.

  The damn thing whimpered but made the tree line. She fired another shot, but knew she’d missed. She had no idea how many silver bullets Decker had, and didn’t want to waste them if they were indeed limited.

  She knelt to ask him, but he was unconscious. She didn’t bother looking for a pulse, she didn’t have the time or the concern. She found his utility belt and pulled two cartridges out. She pulled her flashlight out and coerced a bullet free. They were certainly not the standard issue. They were unmarked and looked like…like silver. She slid the bullet back into the clip, pocketed them, and chased after the killer wolf.

  She saw a shape weaving up ahead through the trees. She stopped, aimed toward it, and fired off the last three shots. At least one hit; the beast yelped. A second later she heard a sound like it crashed to the ground.

  She re-loaded and ran forward.

  …..

  “Stay right here, okay, Johnny. Keep quiet and I’ll be back before you know it,” Wendy said as she lowered the front of the jerry-rigged stretcher. “Johnny?”

  She held her hands to her mouth.

  Even in the shadows, she could see how pale he was. She hadn’t noticed when he fell silent. She was too focused on getting him here.

  “No, Johnny, please.”

  He was still alive. She almost died from relief. If he’d have been gone…She didn’t go there. Instead, she pulled back some branches and stepped out to give it a once over. The beast might smell him, but he was at least out of sight. Now, she needed to find help.

  There were multiple gunshots coming from multiple areas. She didn’t want to make it through this fucking mess just to get blown away by some half-blind, trigger-happy cop.

  She didn’t have a choice. She need to get Johnny help, or in one way or another, he might not be here when she got back.

  CHAPTER THIRTY
-THREE

  Kathy found the beast crawling toward the creek. It was shrinking. Already, it’s feet looked like a man’s feet, its legs, the muscles beneath its flesh pulsing, slow bubbles like those black, oily moats in old cartoons. The man within the monster would be revealed soon enough. But she didn’t care. Standing over the ruthless killer, she pushed it over with her boot, and stared into its deformed face. It no longer looked like an animal, but there was no doubt it was still a monster. Shining her light upon it, she saw only the horrifying, yellow eyes remained of the beast. Scars and jagged shapes beneath its cheeks and forehead made him look even more frightening than the wolf form.

  Its gaze found hers.

  “Are there more of you? More like…like this, like the wolf?”

  It looked like he was trying to smile, but couldn’t.

  “Answer me,” she screamed.

  He began coughing. Blood spattered out from his mouth, coating his lips and chin crimson.

  “I… have…planted…err…,” he tried to battle through the obvious pain.

  Planted?

  “The…the g-g-girl will…carry…”

  It hit her—Wendy Higgins. He took her and planted his seed.

  “Where is she? Where’s the woman you took?”

  She watched in awe as he transformed the rest of the way into his human form. He appeared damn near emaciated. Nothing like the muscular creature that had stalked and devoured her town these last two days.

  “You’ll find…out…some…day…”

  Kathy raised the rifle. He was dying, but she didn’t give a fuck.

  She put the rifle to his head and squeezed the trigger.

  She dropped the gun and stumbled back, finding a tree. She slid down the trunk and rested. So many people dead and for what? Revenge? Damn you, Decker.

  She needed to find Wendy Higgins. If she was out here and had been attacked by that thing, she was going to be in rough shape.

  Kathy stood and started toward the Point.

  …..

  Ben Cutter dreamt of the strange man, Arthur. He watched him crawling through the creek, toward the path that led to their fort. His yellow eyes appeared to glow in the twilight. Ben was afraid, but he didn’t want to leave. He wanted to commune with him. This man held secrets and Ben wanted their answers. He needed them. He deserved them. Words. The crawling man with the awful, diseased eyes was speaking. Legacy. He was growling the word repeatedly.