Claw

by Katie Berry

  "I don't have to do a goddamn thing you suggest!" The Chief stomped away with Olsen in tow, moving toward Greg, who was still seated against the bar.

  Christine shook her head wants more saying, "Unbelievable!"

  Austin commiserated, saying, "I don't know what it's going to take to get that man to play ball."

  “I’m surprised that nobody has spotted the thing until now,” Trip said, changing gears on the conversation.

  “Well, I think it’s pretty safe to say that this thing is nocturnal. I don’t think we’ve had any attacks in the daylight, yet.” Christine said.

  “None that we know about, anyway,” Austin added. “Plus, I think this fog is certainly helping Angus in the stealth department, that’s for sure.” He turned to Christine and finished, asking, “So, where does this put us now?”

  Christine looked thoughtful for a moment. “Well, we’re still waiting to hear if that blood from the campsite is human or not. But then again, whether it is or it isn’t is a moot point since we now have a least two confirmed deaths attributed to this creature here tonight. The way the pattern is looking, after what we plotted on the map earlier, I think that we’re going to have to prepare ourselves for the eventuality that this bear might find its way into the town of Lawless itself. If that happens…” she trailed off.

  “I know, I’ve thought that myself. What else can we do?” Austin asked.

  “I’ll get some more signs together, and we’ll post them around the city tomorrow morning. We need to make everyone in town and the surrounding valley aware that this thing is out there and that it seems to be eating whatever it can fit into its mouth. I’ll call the radio station again in the morning once a live DJ is on duty so that they can make a new announcement to remind everyone that this thing is stalking the area and that it's deadly!”

  “I’ll get the word out to some of my hunting buddies to keep an eye out as well.” Trip added, helpfully.

  Christine nodded, saying, “Thanks, but present company excluded, the last thing we need is a bunch of would-be ‘Great White Hunter’ types wandering around out in the bush, getting drunk and shooting at anything that moves.”

  Chuckling in agreement, Trip said, “Yeah, you’re right. Then it’d be just like a regular hunting season.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Pulling into his reserved parking spot at the Golden Nugget Casino and Resort, Ray Chance frowned. “What in God's name is going on here?”

  Back in the day, when they used to have skiers at the resort, all one hundred rooms would have been rented at this time of year. Sadly, those were the good old days, however. Now, they only maintained half of them for guests to stay in while they gambled their little hearts away. Fortunately, the gambling revenue from the casino more than made up for the lack of room rentals.

  But today was odd. For some reason, the parking lot was almost empty. The resort was supposed to be currently booked to half capacity, as far as his spotty memory could attest. If that were the case, he pondered, then where the hell were all the goddamned cars to go with all the goddamned guests that were still supposed to be checked-in this morning?

  Chance stormed into the lobby and screamed at the night desk manager, Al Frisco, saying, “Al! What in God’s name happened to all of my goddamned guests?”

  Al Frisco raised one of his impeccably groomed eyebrows and said, “Well, sir, there was an incident at Frostbite Fred’s last night and…”

  “How the hell would an incident at the goddamned pub down the hill affect us up here?”

  “Well, sir, there was a bear attack.”

  “What? One little bear attacks and everybody clears out?”

  “It was a very large bear apparently, sir, and two people were killed.”

  “Jesus Christ! Either way, how does that affect us?”

  “It seems that there were some travellers from the resort down at Frostbite Fred’s last night, sir. According to Melanie, who was on shift until midnight, these people came flooding back from Fred's and ran straight up to their rooms. They packed their things and then came right back down to the front desk, and she was swamped with about a dozen people lined up to check out. In fact, I even had to help her process the last few that were still waiting when I came in early for my graveyard shift.” Al made sure to add extra emphasis to the word early as he spoke.

  “What? Didn’t anybody try to talk them into staying? Offer them a free buffet or a twenty-dollar slot voucher or anything?”

  “Yes, sir, Melanie made that offer to all of them, but the guests wouldn’t hear of it, telling her they valued their lives more than their vacations. Apparently, the ones that were waiting to check out caught the attention of some of the other tourists gambling at the casino. Once they’d talked to the ones from down at Fred’s, there was a snowball effect, and within a few hours, about ninety percent of our patrons had checked out.”

  “Jesus jumped-up Jehoshaphat! What the hell are we going to do now!” Ray bellowed.

  "I'm not sure, sir. Perhaps we can run a ‘Bear Scare Buffet Special’ and put rooms on at fifty percent off to entice customers back up here?" Al added, somewhat seriously.

  "Hmpf! Not funny, Frisco," Chance said, stomping to the elevator. He jabbed one sausage-link finger at the call button to take him up what he called the penthouse, known as the second story of the resort to everyone else. Next to the elevator, an ornate wooden stairwell wound up to the guest rooms and his large office located above. In over the thirty-year span he’d been managing the resort, the stairs weren’t something Chance had ever considered using, and his rotund physique could attest to the fact. With a ping,the shining brass elevator doors opened, and Chance stepped inside. He turned around and glowered across the lobby toward the front desk.

  Al Frisco smiled blandly back at Chance until the doors closed, then shook his head, pulled out his cell phone and began checking help wanted ads on Kijiji.

  When the elevator pinged open onto the second floor, Chance waddled across the hall toward the frosted glass door labelled, Raymond Chance, Manager, Private. He flung the door open hard enough to rattle the glass and stormed through to his interior office.

  Roxanne Rooney sat behind her desk, idly filing one nail instead of the pile of papers stacked next to it. As Chance thundered into the room, she looked up, a slightly startled expression on her face. Momentarily pausing the mastication of a wad of her ever-present Juicy Fruit gum, she said enthusiastically, “Good Morning, Mr. Chance!”

  Ray ignored her and gusted through into his office, slamming the door behind himself. He grabbed the crystal decanter on his desk, poured a couple of fingers of brandy into a snifter sitting next to it then slammed half of it back.

  A brand new Motorola UHF two-way radio base station sat on his desk next to the decanter. Chance powered it up and grabbed the microphone. He’d insisted Watkins bring a radio paired to the station with him when he went up to the cavern to the night before. After several frustrating minutes of trying to raise the caretaker without success, he gave up.

  “Shit! You lazy little bastard! What the hell is going on up there?” To help himself ponder the situation, he sloshed an entire fist of brandy into the snifter. After a couple of mouthfuls, he picked up the phone receiver on his desk, punching in Bob Nichols’ direct number at city hall.

  The Mayor picked up on the second ring. “Ray, what the hell is going on?” Nichols asked before Chance could utter a word.

  “I was going to ask you the same damn question, Bob! Our goddamned resort is empty this morning because of that goddamned bear of yours traipsing around the countryside eating people. We’re lucky we’ve got the gold to provide us with some income to fall back on!”

  “My bear? Since when did I take ownership of the goddamned thing?”

  “Just like everything else in any other small town in the world, when there’s a problem, it’s always the mayor’s problem.” Chance chuckled, knocking back the last of his drink in one gulp.

 
; “I see. Doesn’t the fact that it was your man Watkins who discovered the cavern make you somewhat responsible as well? Let’s split the difference and call it OUR bear, then, shall we? In any event, yes, I heard about the attack. VanDusen called me just a little while ago.”

  “Well, I don’t know what we’re going to do now! I can’t get ahold of Watkins up at the cavern! I spent forever on the radio trying to reach him this morning, but he isn’t picking up.”

  Nichols smiled thinly into the receiver and said, “All right, here’s what’s going to happen: I’m heading up to your neck of the woods around noon today. VanDusen will be up shortly after that once he’s had his nap. He said he wasn’t going anywhere without some sleep — being up all night at Fred’s tuckered him out, apparently.”

  “Great! Then we’ll grab a couple of snowmobiles from the resort once he’s awake, and we’ll all head up there together!” Chance said, excitedly.

  “That was going to be the next thing I was going to say if you hadn’t interrupted me,” Nichols sighed. He finished, “So today we shall see what’s happening up there and get all of this shit straightened around once and for all! Fair enough?”

  “Perfect! I’ll be ready,” Chance said, slamming the receiver down. He settled back into his leather chair, grabbed the snifter and heavy crystal decanter and slugged himself with another fistful of breakfast brandy.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  By the time Christine had finished sorting the data and evidence from Frostbite Fred's, it was after three o-clock in the morning. She lay her head upon her pillow, and suddenly realised she still couldn’t quite bed down for the night and bolted upright.

  Picking up her cell, she brought up the number for the local radio station, Big Buzz FM, or CKLL, as it was known to the CRTC. The early morning host, Reba Casalino, had just stumbled in the door, sounding almost as exhausted as Christine felt as she answered the phone. After a brief rundown of what happened at Fred’s the previous evening, she informed the DJ that she wanted to give people enough information to make them listen, but not enough to cause panic in the streets. Residents needed to be aware of what might lay just outside their door at any moment were they to go wandering off into the fog, and that their decision for a healthy stroll could be the last decision they would ever make. Reba agreed wholeheartedly, adding that she thought many of them already knew judging by the double-digit number on the station’s answering machine currently flashing in her face.

  After thanking the radio host for all of her help and ending the call, the final thing on Christine’s list was to fire off a message to the Conservation Service’s head office down on the coast informing them of the latest developments with the bear. At the end of the email, she added that if they wanted to send up extra officers to help track the creature currently stalking Lawless, she would most certainly welcome the assistance.

  A quick text to Austin asking if he could put up a few more bear signs around town was the final thing she needed to do before placing her head upon her pillow. He'd left the pub a little before midnight in an attempt to get Alex home at some sort of reasonable time. Hoping he would have had a short but sound sleep, she texted her thanks in advance, saying she’d contact him when she awoke for a status update.

  With a sigh, Christine lay back and placed her phone on her bedside table. Setting her large, chromed, analogue alarm clock to wake her in five hours, she hoped to get some sort of solid sleep, while still not letting the day waste away -- it was sure to be a long one with perhaps an even longer night attached.

  ***

  Austin Murphy sat on the edge of his bed, rubbing sleep-heavy eyes, a huge yawn threatening to split his face in half. According to his ageing clock radio, it was just a hair past 7:00 A.M. Blinking at the display, he corrected himself, it was actually two hairs past seven. Yawning mightily once more, he still felt groggy from the late night before, with only five hours of sleep under his pajama top. He checked his cell phone and saw a waiting text message from Christine and responded to it right away. Knowing she’d probably been up all night and was most likely already napping, he said he’d get onto tackling some more signs as soon as he’d refuelled with some breakfast. Speaking of which, after tying his bathrobe’s belt around his waist, he opened his bedroom door to the tantalising smell of eggs, bacon and toast. He wandered into the kitchen, still rubbing his eyes.

  Alex was already up and standing at the stove, cooking up a breakfast that he knew they both enjoyed. Briefly turning his attention away from the fry pan in front of him, he looked over his shoulder and said, “Morning, Dad.”

  “Morning, buddy, why are you up so early?”

  “I was starving when I woke up this morning! I didn’t get my ribs last night, remember? That glass of Coke at the pub and then those two bowls of granola I had when I got home really didn’t fill me up very much.”

  “I’m sure,” Austin said, nodding in agreement. “We probably should have poured the whole box of cereal and the entire jug of milk into you. That might have lasted you a couple of hours longer. But then again, with your appetite…” He smiled, glancing toward the counter behind the boy. An empty egg carton, bread wrapper and the crumpled plastic hide from a pound of bacon sat upon its surface. Man, that boy can pack it away, he thought, then recalled himself at the same age and the distress he’d caused to his own parent’s food budget at the time. He smiled wistfully -- payback was a bitch. But it was not that he begrudged feeding his son as the boy needed all the calories he could get into his growing body each day. Today, he needed to fuel up big-time as his team, The Kootenay Lawbreakers, had a big game this evening, playing against their main rivals from a few valleys over, the Driftwood Dodgers.

  “So, I’ve promised Christine I would put some more ‘Bear In Area’ signs around town this morning. Did you want to give me a hand?”

  “Sure thing!”

  “Great! If you can tag along for a few hours, I can put you to work swinging the sledgehammer pounding in some posts.”

  “Is Uncle Trip going to be helping us?” Alex asked. His son liked hanging around with Trip, whom he affectionately called Uncle, having known the man since birth. With his mother no longer living, it seemed important for him to include other people in his life, especially someone like Trip, who was not only his godparent but his dad’s best friend as well.

  “No, I told him to get some sleep and that I’d probably be okay today since I knew I could count on you, Skipper!” He flashed a smile at his son. “So it’ll just be you and me. And as an added bonus, I was thinking that when we're done, we could go to the Burger Barn for lunch and get you one of those triple cheeseburgers that you love so much.”

  Alex seemed somewhat disappointed upon hearing his uncle was not going to be joining them, but his eyes brightened when he heard the word cheeseburger. He asked, “Can I have onion rings, too? With gravy?”

  “I don’t see why not.”

  “Yes!” Alex grinned, pumping his fist into the air in victory.

  Austin smiled in amusement. Though his son was just about to eat a sizeable breakfast, he was already looking forward to his upcoming lunch -- the teen had an appetite that almost matched his uncle’s.

  The toast popped up as Alex finished scrambling the eggs. “All right, Dad, looks like our breakfast is ready!”

  “Okay, buddy, let’s fill up and then get out there and make everyone Bear Aware!”

  ***

  A dozen kilometres away, Jerry Benson woke screaming.

  Behind closed eyes, before he was fully conscious, fangs, claws, and blood sprayed across his mind. In quick succession, Matt, Nick and Tyler all appeared, smiling and laughing around the campfire as they’d reminisced about the good old days. Then, in a flash, he saw them again at the ends of their lives, and the horrors that befell each of them.

  He screamed himself into consciousness, sitting bolt upright in bed, another scream perched on the edge of his lips before he opened his eyes. Everything came floodi
ng back in full, living colour, playing over and over in his mind, on a repeat loop in the ultra-high-definition Imax theatre at the back of his brain. Crystal clear in his memory, an image of him speeding off into the night on his snowmobile, driving like a madman. Then came the feeling of knowing the monster from hell was somewhere at his back, coming for him in the fog. Then he was suddenly flying through the air as the ground disappeared from beneath his snowmobile’s treads.

  And then there was nothing but darkness -- until now.

  Looking around, he realised he wasn’t cold, wet, or bleeding anywhere, and tucked away the scream ready to spill from his lips, saving it for future nightmares.

  It would appear he was now in a warm, quiet, pastel-coloured hospital room. Next to his bed was a single, yellow flower in a small white vase.

  A petite brunette nurse came racing into the room, her white-soled sneakers squeaking on the glossy-white, freshly-waxed floors. “My gosh, Mr. Benson, you scared me!” she exclaimed. “Are you okay? You’ve been in a coma for a couple of days, and we didn’t know if, or when, you’d come back to us!”