Terror in the Valley

by M. A. Salisbury

  “Where have you been?” she hissed. “Why didn’t you tell us where you were going?”

  “What happened, Georgia? Did you find him?” John Walters came thundering into the entryway. When he saw Max, he nearly collapsed in relief.

  “It’s okay, everyone! He’s home!” she called.

  Lucy appeared at the top of the stairs with red rimmed eyes. She held onto a stuffed giraffe with a vice grip. “I thought the wolf got you.”

  “It’s not a wolf, it’s a person,” he said.

  “That’s a dark accusation, Max,” his father said.

  “No, we have proof. We have proof now.” He waved his arms as he spoke, a manic grin playing on his lips. “They found some kids buried out in the woods.”

  Georgia Walters covered her mouth with her hand. “That’s – no –”

  “I recognized them, ma. I knew them from school and from town and…they’re really dead.” His shoulders began to shake. “I saw them. They’re really dead.”

  “Oh, honey. It’s alright.” She stepped forward and drew him into her arms.

  He let himself be held. “It’s not,” he whispered. “It’s not.”

  Sometimes, during the day, people were able to pretend that everything was normal. Lucy ran around the yard in a massive snowsuit that made her look like a puffy marshmallow, chased by one of the neighbors. Their mothers watched from the patio with hot tea in their gloved hands.

  “It’s wild,” Georgia said.

  “Mm, yeah.”

  “These kids shouldn’t be afraid to play outside,” she went on. “It’s what kids do!”

  “Oh, I agree.” The other mother took a tired sip of her tea.

  “This time last year, we were out making forts and having snowball fights, and now she sleeps on our bedroom floor because she’s afraid of some wolf tearing into her bedroom window!”

  “I haven’t slept at all.”

  “Dangerous times,” Georgia said.

  “Dangerous times,” the other woman agreed.

  The edge of the forest infringed on the Walters’ land. It was a safe distance away from where the children were playing but within the corner eyesight of the mothers. That’s how Georgia spotted it. A blur of something dark at the edge of the trees. She stood up so fast that the other mother spilled her tea.

  “Jesus, Georgia!” she yelped.

  “Lucy!” Georgia screamed. “Lucy, come here right now!”

  Lucy looked over at her mom with a pout and stomped her snowshoes into the ground. “But I’m it!” she said. “It’s my turn!”

  “Don’t argue with me, young lady!” Georgia was wearing some flimsy slippers with fur lined on the inside, but – she turned and the dark shape was gone, which means she couldn’t keep an eye on it, which meant it could be anywhere. “Please, just come here! Or you’ll be grounded for – for – all of summer!” Lucy pouted and started making her way over at an achingly slow pace.

  Georgia took a step into the snow and she sunk immediately down to her knee. Cold gripped her as snow fell into her shoes. Lucy looked at her with a confused look, then her eyes turned to the side of the house and widened to the size of saucers. She screamed.

  The flash of dark tore through the snow and grabbed her by the neck, dragging her out of sight. Georgia could still hear her scream. She wrenched her foot out of the snow just as John came out of the house with his rifle in hand.

  “Georgia,” he barked. “What’s happening? Where’s Lucy?” She grabbed the rifle out of his hands and ran barefoot to the side of the house.

  It was like a wolf, but larger. The fur was matted with dirt and blood and its eyes were a pale yellow without an iris. She cocked the rifle and the heavy bang of the gun exploded through the air. The beast threw its head back and yowled, dropping Lucy to the ground. Georgia cocked the rifled and shot again, this time catching it in the stomach. Blood dripped from the creature as it vanished back into the forest. Lucy was lying on the ground, motionless.

  Georgia ran through the snow, cold hitting her bare feet like tiny blades, and knelt beside her baby girl. She was wearing a thick scarf around her neck that her grandmother had sewn for her. Her eyes were closed, but she was still breathing. Georgia gently unwrapped the scarf to assess the damage and saw deep bruises in the shape of teeth marks blooming on Lucy’s neck. It hadn’t broken skin. She sobbed with relief and held her daughter close, rocking her back and forth in the snow until John guided them both inside.

  The older kids came back from their rounds just before sundown and tumbled through the door all at once.

  “Mom, you’ll never believe this. That old lady down the street, Yolanda or something, wouldn’t – mom, what’s wrong?” Kim stepped forward into the living room, alarm creeping into her voice. “What’s wrong with Lucy?”

  Lucy was awake, cradled in her mother’s arms. Her neck was black and blue with bruises. She opened her mouth to say something but only a scratchy squeak came out. “It nearly got her,” said Georgia. “It’s real, and it nearly took my baby girl away.” Johnny was sitting on the other side of the couch with his knees to his chest, staring off into the distance. Lucy held out a little fat hand to her sister and Kim immediately felt her eyes welling up with tears. She knelt beside her mom and baby sister and held both of their hands.

  “How did this happen?” Max said. His eyes were wide and his face had been drained of all color.

  “The neighbor boy – Noah – came over to play, and she didn’t come back when I called for her.” Georgia took a slow breath. “She was wearing grandma’s scarf. That saved her.”

  “It just…let her go?” he asked. Georgia’s eyes turned hard and flinty.

  “I shot that sonofabitch,” she growled.

  Johnny looked up. “Two most dangerous animals,” he said. “Hungry beasts and angry mothers.”

  That night, the national guard broadcasted a call to action on the radio. They were organizing a search party to find and kill the beast once and for all, now that they knew it could be found and hurt. Max turned the volume up and cleaned his rifle as he listened. They were heading out first thing tomorrow. The next morning, the Walters woke up to an empty bed and a note promising swift return. They were short one rifle.

  Max stood in the line of volunteers with a steely look on his face. “You sure you’re eighteen?” one of the guardsmen said.

  “Yessir,” he lied easily. Just three more months to his birthday, after all. The guardsman narrowed his eyes and searched Max’s face. He could feel it turning red.

  “I can vouch for him,” came a voice to the side. The greasy smile of Osborne Courtney was, for the first time, a welcome sight for Max. “I’ve known Max n’ his family since his parents were babies. I know how old this boy is.” The guardsman gave a curt nod and walked away.

  They were moving out within the hour. The sun was just beginning to rise above them, but little light fell through the thick entangled branches of the forest, even without their leaves. At the national guard’s orders, they split off into separate groups. All the people of the valley had walkie-talkies on them; it was second nature.

  When the first sign of danger came through, dozens of talkies crackled to life all at once. The first group had found the beast.

  “Hey,” said the static-ridden voice on the other side. “We found somethin’. We think we can track it if y’all just head this way, over.”

  When they came to the designated meeting place, however, it was empty. There weren’t even any tracks. The group’s leader, one of the national guardsmen, took out his talkie. “Uhm…there’s nobody here, over.” Max watched the dark edges of the forest. The shadows seemed to be closing in on him.

  “This ain’t right,” muttered Osborne. Not for the first time, Max considered turning back. Osborne seemed to read his mind. “Listen, boy,” he said. “If things fall to shit, you better run as fast as those little string bean legs can carry you.”

  “I don’t have string bean legs.”
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  “You got your whole life ahead of you,” Osborne continued. “Your parents don’t need to take that kind of loss. This valley’s seen enough of it.

  Another message came through their walkie-talkies. It was one word: “Help”. It didn’t sound urgent. It was spoken in the same non-descript monotone voice as the last message. Osborne stood up straight and tightening his hand on Max’s shoulder.

  “Okay,” he said. “This is your chance to run.”

  Max considered it for a moment, then took a flare out of his backpack and handed it to Osborne. With shaky hands, he lit the flare and ran.

  “Hey,” yelled one of the guardsmen. “Hey, where do you think you’re goin’?” He was cut off by a strangled scream and the sound of bullets, over and over. Max ran and didn’t turn back until he was on his snowmobile and headed for home.

  There were no more attacks on the valley that winter. Spring came in with a wave of heat at the end of that month and the investigations regained strength. The community came together and began to heal. None of the search party had returned, gaining the attention of more and more government agencies. Their intrusion wasn’t welcome, but they kept reporters away, so there wasn’t too much resistance.

  They held a massive memorial service for everyone who was lost. There were speeches and tears, but the fear had passed. Or, at least, it had been repressed. They focused on the people and not the thing that had haunted them for a season.

  As the years went by, it became a tradition. Each successful winter was celebrated by a valley-wide party. Together they remembered what had happened all those years ago and together, gradually, they forgot. There are things that the human mind is not meant to comprehend. There are experiences which the human spirit is not meant to endure.

  The government investigations came to their own conclusions and left, but not without providing a bit of explanation to the people of the valley. They had found the bodies of the search party in an unidentifiable state, frozen and rotted. Everyone had been accounted for and then some. There were limbs that they found on the investigation that added up to a more than the amount of the victims. Multiple heads, legs, arms, and torsos were scattered in the deep snow, unclaimed.

  There were two groups of full corpses found. One was deep into the forest and spread apart, with much more damage done to the dead bodies than the second group. The second group were all injured before death but not mangled in the way that the first group was. In fact, it seemed that some of the group members did not die in the initial conflict and were able to attempt to escape before succumbing to the cold. The oddest thing about this second group, however, was the body count.

  There were two extra. They were massive in size, but distinctly human in shape apart from larger-than-average jaws. Each were riddled in bullet holes but had no guns of their own. Strangest of all, apart from their skeleton, their frozen bodies were completely hollow. No stomach. No intestines. No heart. Just bones and hollowed out eye-holes, all held together by a huge, gaping mouth.