The Winter Creek Beast

by CP Bialois

  Curious, Jay followed the medical examiner to an area off to the side of the tent. Once there, Doc Fredericks pointed at a series of deep marks in the soil. “What do you make of that?”

  Jay crouched next to the doc and brushed aside some strands of grass that had blown over marks that were about twice as large as his foot, but without any distinguishing characteristics. Had the two marks not been so out of place, neither of the men would’ve given them a second thought.

  Being born and raised in a small town that listed hunting and tracking as its favorite pastime meant he knew what tracks belonged to the different animals. He could also read them and the story they told him sent a chill along his back. He remained quiet for a moment and brushed his hand across his mouth as he thought about what this meant.

  “You see? There’s something out here, Sheriff. And it’s not normal.” Doc Frederick’s voice shook when he spoke, but he understood what would happen if they let word get out. The only problem was what would happen if they didn’t tell anyone?

  Jay nodded as he studied the track and looked toward a spot behind where Doc Fredericks stood. “He must’ve jumped from over there, somewhere. It’s the only way there’d be this deep a mark.” He didn’t say he estimated the owner of the tracks to be at least seven to eight hundred pounds, but without more to study he could be way off. “Question is, what around here can do this?”

  Doc Fredericks shook his head, but Jay knew what he was thinking. Living in the Appalachians meant several things. One, you usually knew the woods and the animals well enough to make your living off of them, and second, the stories of the various animals were talked about like they were ghosts on the wind. There had never been any proof any of them existed, but there wasn’t any that they didn’t, either.

  “Wampus beast is the only thing I can think of. But I ain’t never heard of one attacking people before.” Doc Fredericks moistened his lips before he continued. “It wouldn’t leave tracks like that, would it?”

  Jay shook his head. “Nope. Whatever did this was on two feet. I’m sure of it.”

  After a moment, Doc Fredericks let out a breath and stood. “Far as I’m concerned, this is your call. But I ain’t saying nuthin’ to nobody and am keeping a gun on me at all times.”

  The Sheriff nodded and stood as well. “I’ll make a few calls. See if I can’t find us some hunters that would be willing to be discreet. Better safe than sorry.”

  Doc Fredericks glanced at him. “Rhodes was a hunter.”

  Jay didn’t need to be reminded of that. “I know. I’m thinking of bringing on other deputies as well before things get further out of hand.” Both men knew what he meant by that.

  If there was a rogue creature large enough to kill humans and it had developed a taste for blood, then the woods would be crawling with every dumbass that was big enough to hold a gun. The accidental shootings would be worse than anything a ravenous creature could do. In the end, he hoped it could be handled by a handful of professionals.

  “If we’re lucky, someone will put a bullet into it before too long. Hell, even running it over with a semi would help me sleep.” Doc Frederick turned his eyes from the ground to Jay. “I don’t envy your job, Jay.”

  “Neither do I, Doc. Neither do I.”

  Chapter 5

  Melvin Paul had his mind made up about what he’d do with his life. As much as he hated to admit it, he didn’t want to remain a deputy if his lot in life was to investigate things like those killings. As he pulled into the stone covered parking place outside his rented home he was still struggling with how to tell Jay he was leaving. Melvin wanted to wait until their current situation was resolved. This was his hometown and he couldn’t leave any of them in a spot just because he was squeamish.

  He paused after closing his car door and glanced around him. He was sure he heard something half a second after the door closed, but now that he was focused on it no sound found its way to him. Even the birds were quiet. He let out a breath while his hand remained on the handle of his revolver. Since finding the campers, he decided his sidearm would remain with him fulltime until the animal was caught or killed. The added weight and knowledge of the protection it offered did little to calm his nerves.

  Despite his best efforts, Melvin’s eyes flittered from one point to another for a couple of minutes before he was satisfied he’d only heard what his imagination wanted him to. Cursing himself for acting like a scared kid, he crossed the half dozen steps to the front porch of his cottage.

  The peeling white paint on the porch railings and the sky blue color of the house had a calming effect on him as he pulled his keys from his pants pocket and slid them into the deadbolt lock on the door. As buildings go, the cottage wasn’t much, but the four-room building was more than large enough for him to be comfortable.

  Once inside, he dropped his keys on the nightstand by the door and tossed his coat over the back of his over-sized recliner. It felt like the weight of the day slid off his shoulders the moment he stepped through the door and he managed to forget about his job.

  He flipped on the lights and headed towards the kitchen. He was never one to keep food in stock, but he did keep a good supply of soda. It was his one vice and he’d be damned if he’d give it up. It wasn’t like he smoked or drank booze, so he saw little threat in a slight caffeine and sugar addiction. Once he had a can of cola in his hand, he pulled back and closed the fridge door. From the corner of his eye, a face in the window caught his attention. When he looked over and saw the twisted, hate-filled features of a beast staring at him he stepped away from the glass and the can of soda fell from his hand.

  The face was partially flat and resembled a person except for the glare in its eyes. The beast’s top lips curled in a snarl and the sound caused the window to shake. It took a step back and raised its arms to strike the wall. Its growl was so loud the walls and floor around Melvin shook with the sound.

  As if a switch was thrown, Melvin remembered his sidearm and drew it. It was the first time he drew his weapon on anything but a paper target and he fired a wild shot that struck the upper left corner of the window frame. The shot made the beast freeze but not before Melvin fired a second, better aimed shot that shattered the window and caught the beast in the right shoulder. A howl of pain that resembled a human scream more than an animal’s erupted from it as the beast turned and fled into the fading light of the day.

  What the fuck was that?

  Melvin remained standing with his handgun aimed at the now empty window. Sweat had broken out over his entire body and he began to shake after a few seconds. He didn’t know when or how, but he eventually lowered his weapon and stepped toward the window to peer out. The darkening sky hid everything but a few shadows in the small field between his house and the woods. Until then, he hadn’t given a second thought to living at the edge of town.

  He knew he had to call Jay, if one of his neighbors hadn’t already. But did he even want to go looking for it after that? Forget being a go-get-him macho type, that was the most terrifying thing Melvin ever saw. It’d kill anyone going after it. Besides, one of the rules of hunting was to never chase wounded prey. It had to be tracked.

  “Damn it to hell.” He holstered his handgun and hurried to the phone. No sooner did the other end begin to ring than there was a knock at his door.

  “Melvin? You alright in there?”

  It was his neighbor Tony Prince who Melvin thought of as a good-natured man that mostly kept to himself unless there was trouble.

  While the phone continued onto the second ring, Melvin walked over and opened the door to reveal Tony with a double barreled shotgun in his hands. Melvin nodded at him and stepped to the side to allow him to enter. Short and stocky, Tony was built like a brick shithouse.

  Jay picked that moment to answer on the fourth ring. He barely had “Hello” out before Melvin told him what he’d seen and what had happened. In seconds, Melvin was off the phone and attempting to explain to Tony why he fired two sh
ots.

  *****

  Things were getting out of control in a hurry and Jay knew it was time to do something about it. What he had planned seemed so simple at the time: Call in some professional hunters and inform the people of Winter Creek to remain indoors unless armed due to a vicious animal on the loose. They were a sensible group and he doubted there would be any trouble. Now, all he could do was shake his head.

  The worst part about it was they weren’t able or ready to commence a night hunt for something brave enough to approach a person’s home and threaten them. They needed hounds, and the closet ones were in Rocksford about ten miles down the road. He knew old Coltrane well enough to be able to ask him to bring his hounds, but it’d be at least fifteen minutes until he arrived in Winter Creek. If nothing else, it’d give Jay the chance to plan things out and look around for himself.

  His free hand rested on the breast pocket where he had the tuft of hair Jacob had given him as he turned onto Melvin Paul’s street. It was the fourth time he caught himself doing it that day and he couldn’t figure out why. All he knew was he drew a strength and calmness from it.

  I’m losing my fucking mind.

  He pulled onto the edge of Melvin’s grass and turned off the ignition while looking around the yard for any signs of movement. While his view was limited, he did feel as though something was watching him. He rubbed at the back of his neck as the hair had begun to stand on end like it did when he was attacked by a mountain lion as a boy.

  It was his first time hunting and he’d shot and killed a deer. What surprised him the most wasn’t that the lion was hunting the same animal he was, but that it didn’t run off at the sound of the rifle report. Instead, it waited for the teenage Jay to approach before it pounced. Had his grandfather not been further back and out of the lion’s line of sight, he would’ve been dead right there and then. It taught him a valuable lesson never to let his guard down when hunting. Man may be the top of the food chain, but that doesn’t mean he can’t be hunted.

  He grasped his break-action shotgun in a slow, smooth motion then slid out of the Jeep. After looking all around him, he felt certain he was being watched from the woods. Unlike with the mountain lion, he knew something was waiting.

  Wanting something more between him and whatever it was than a field of grass, Jay hurried into Melvin’s house. Once inside, he stopped at the sight of the faces that greeted him. He nodded towards Tony Prince. “You seen it too?”

  At first, Tony thought about keeping quiet. He wasn’t one to butt into other peoples’ lives, but the small sliver of fear he managed to keep buried the last few weeks threatened to burst into a bonfire if he didn’t confide in anyone. The fact his friend and neighbor looked at him in surprise didn’t help.

  “Yes, but not tonight. Last week I was out at the old Tavers place helping to set traps for the animal that’s been stealing their hogs. You know Sam? Well, he said his prize hog had just gone missing. We’re talking a two to three hundred pounder, not none of them tiny ones.”

  Jay nodded and motioned for him to continue. He knew Jack Tavers his whole life. Their farm and family were the oldest ones in Winter Creek, dating back over a hundred and fifty years.

  “Well, we were thinking it was a bear of some kind. You know nothing else could take a hog that size unless they’re a pack of wolves or coyotes. But there wasn’t no damage. Just some blood and a missing hog.”

  “A missing hog? The whole damn thing?” Melvin’s face lost its remaining color and he was forced to sit down. Until then, he hadn’t realized how much danger he’d been in.

  Tony nodded. “I didn’t believe it myself. I thought he was full of his normal bullshit stories, you know? But he wasn’t.” He took a breath and continued. “We were setting the last of the traps when we heard a ruckus in the barn. So we ran over thinking the critter came a might early. I swear to God and all that is holy that what ran out the other side wasn’t no bear, but it stopped to look at us with angry eyes and a young hog dead as could be in its hands. It snarled and run off.” Tony pulled out a handkerchief and wiped his forehead and face, the latter sounded like sandpaper as it scraped across the beginning of a beard.

  A silence fell on the trio as the story settled into their hearts and minds. For Melvin, it brought the terror of what he’d shot at to him even more so than before. It was those eyes. Those damn eyes that he couldn’t forget.

  Jay chewed his tongue as he thought over what they would do. He didn’t want to believe the animal was anything but just that, but Tony and Melvin’s stories triggered memories of his people’s legends about skin-walkers and demons taking animal forms to go with what his grandfather had told him earlier that day. His hand went to the lock of hair in his pocket and he caressed it.

  Chapter 6

  The beast sat hunched behind a large group of bushes and watched the people join the one he had attacked a short time earlier. Blood seeped from between his fingers as he squeezed his wounded left shoulder. He’d been injured before by the weapons of man, but that was the first time he hadn’t made the person pay with their life.

  A low rumble shook his chest as he tried to keep from vocalizing his pain and growing anger, choosing to flex his toes instead by digging them into the loose soil of the woods. Part of him had screamed it was dangerous to approach the structure, but something in his anger gave him courage to ignore his instincts. As had been the case in his previous hunting grounds, the forested area around Winter Creek was best suited for him. Within the confines of the trees and brush, none could see him until it was too late. There he was the hunter, but now he feared he would be the hunted.

  His face twisted in rage at hearing another vehicle approach, but it wasn’t the sound of the engine that riled him. It was the sound of the baying hounds the man brought with him. There were three of them and the memory of others of their kind biting and attacking him caused a fear to rise within the beast’s heart. It was a primal surge of emotion he was helpless to fight against. Letting out a growl of frustration, he turned and raced into the woods.

  As he leaped over fallen trees and sunken hollows, the pain in his shoulder was a fading memory as his body fought to expel the piece of offending metal and heal. Within another few minutes all that would remain would be a pitted scar. That wasn’t his concern. His mind focused on getting as far away from the hounds as he could. With a surge of power, he jumped across a dried river bed that cut a dozen feet into the ground, creating a snake-like cavern ten feet across. He knew he wouldn’t be safe there as the hounds would find a way across. They always did and so would their masters.

  *****

  Hearing the braying of Arnold Coltrane’s hounds as they approached was as much a welcome sound as a worrisome one for Jay. If they were making so much noise, then they already smelled the animal they were after. That wasn’t a good thing.

  He’d long heard about animals ability to sense when a natural disaster was about to occur, but to hear them howling half a mile down the road filled him with a sense of urgency and paranoia. Who could say whether the creature had run off or not? He certainly felt like something was watching him when he arrived. He took a steadying breath and led the small hunting party onto Melvin’s porch to wait for Coltrane.

  As if he thought twice about it, he looked around the corner of the house before heading to his car for his riot shotgun. Although he wasn’t a fan of semi-automatic weapons, it was better than the double barrel one he currently had on him. Besides, he fell in love with the shotgun as soon as he felt it in his hands. In theory, one could fire off all six rounds it held before the first casing hit the ground. He hoped he wouldn’t have to test that theory, but he wanted to be sure.

  As soon as Tony spotted the shotgun he let out a whistle. “Whoo boy! Ain’t she a pretty thing.”

  Jay tried not to smile at the look Melvin gave him. It was the one time he listened to the kid about upgrading their weapons and he didn’t want to be reminded he was old-fashioned. “Take it eas
y, it ain’t all that. You got yours?” He nodded towards Melvin, who shook his head.

  “I locked it up back at the station before I came home. I thought this would be enough.” Melvin held up his service revolver and despite the events of the last half hour, he also had a smug I-told-you-so- look to go with his crazed expression.

  Between the look from his deputy and knowing he should’ve kept his shotgun at the station as well, Jay let out a grunt. As far as he was concerned, since the Jeep doubled as his personal and professional vehicle, he had a right to keep it with him. Being on call twenty-four hours a day also meant running to the station would’ve been a pain in the ass he didn’t need. “Just make sure your sidearm is loaded. I don’t want you running out of ammo at the wrong time.”

  While he spoke, Jay continued to watch the woods. He didn’t feel like anything was there anymore, but that didn’t mean jack shit. When Coltrane’s beaten and rusty Chevy pulled up next to his Jeep, Jay allowed himself to look away from the tree line.

  “Somebody call fer my hounds?” Arnold Coltrane stepped out from the driver’s seat of his truck, grinning ear to ear. “Whatcha got fer me, Jay?”

  Jay motioned to Melvin and Tony. “You two say it, fill him in.”

  The pair’s description took less than five minutes and left Arnold’s grin frozen on his face. When they were finished all he could say was, “No shit?”

  Melvin shook his head. “No shit.”

  “You have any idea what we’re dealing with, Arnold?” Jay didn’t like the way his skin tingled at hearing the description of the animal that attacked Melvin, but he was sure someone that’s been in the woods as long as Coltrane would allay his fears.

  Arnold took off his dirt-covered baseball hat and scratched at his head. His white hair moved about as if it had a mind of its own in the evening breeze. “I’d say bear, but…”