The Mountain Town

Josh Olsen ©2016

For those that wander.

Those that enjoy being lost.

Prologue

“It is only after we have defeated our demons, both inward and outward, that we may begin our quest for redemption.”

The man stumbled, dropping his flask and slipping down a hill of hard compact snow. That deep cutting, sharp snow that the chill of winter creates. The thick icy snow that crunches and cracks loudly under boots.

Panicking and gasping he stumbled to his feet, quickly glancing behind himself. Getting to his feet, he picked up his 30-06 Deer Rifle,

“Shit.” he whispers to himself as he attempts to clean the sticks and filthy snow from the action and the barrel of the gun with his frostbitten, frozen hands. Hair stands up on his neck, he knows, his years of hunting and tracking had lent him a sort of sixth sense.

He knew when something had him in its sights, slowly, meticulously, he shifted his eyes and neck to scan the surrounding woods, careful to not produce any unnecessary movement.

The dark, unforgiving pines revealed none of its inhabitants to him, but he could still feel the creeping sense of being stalked or being gazed upon by someone or something. He snapped back into reality quickly, fumbling with his frozen fingers to produce his flashlight from his coat pocket, then, he heard it, the hiss, the heavy pounding of breath. He whipped around quickly, pointing his weapon blindly into the infinite darkness.

Nothing.

Frantically, he whipped around in every direction pointing his meager source of light into the black. It seemed it was everywhere and nowhere at the same time, always behind him, always just out of sight. Sitting, waiting to strike. Whatever the hell it was.

Chills ran down the man’s back, the frost of winter blew a deep cold through his thick coat forcing him to shiver profusely. He couldn’t see the path or any deer trails that would lead him back to it for that matter. He was lost and disoriented and being closed in on.

The beast watched intently, savoring every panicked breath and movement of its prey, feeding off of its fear and desperation. Almost gaining strength and adrenaline from its stalking. It was enjoying every moment, it wouldn’t run, the beast knew that, cliffs to the river were to the east and the steep icy hill prevented his prey from going too far, back the way it had come. The creature was quiet, staying to the shadows evading the mans gaze. Waiting, savoring the preys descent into madness. Its torch will burn out, wait, stalk.

The man whimpered softly as he realized the once comforting beam of light emanating from his Mag-Light had been reduced to a dismal yellow glow eerily illuminating the vast army of pines. All at once he heard it, the shriek, the heavy pounding of breaths. He turned quickly pointing his weapon in its direction, its horrifying silhouette dimly visible as it closed in on him.

“Click.”

“Shit!” he yelled out. He had forgotten the jammed action.

The beast bounded towards him, slipping right past his side at inhuman speed, slicing into his right leg with one calculated strike from its hideous claws.

The man shrieked into the cold night air as he fell, clutching his nearly severed limb with his frozen hands, the leg now barely attached with a few small tendons and ligaments causing it to swing back and forth in the air. Blood spurted and sprayed from the wound, painting the fresh white ground.

Black surrounded his eyes, the pain was too intense, he was fading out. The beast appeared right in front of his face, the man tensed, too far gone to scream.

He smelled the horrific scent of the creatures mouth permeate his nose just before the creature shrieked and clasped down on the mans throat with its rows of rotting decaying teeth. The man gurgled and flailed in the air, his arms desperate to grab something, anything.

The beast tore at him from all over shredding him and devouring him at the same time. As quickly as it had come the beast was done and slid into the night leaving only shreds of the man as evidence of its kill. Disappearing into the black, the beast had one thought, it was still hungry.

Chapter 1

Stinging, that’s all he could feel in his head, it forced its way in through his ear stabbing his mind with its incessant noise. Clark Davis forced open his sleep deprived eyes begging him to close them again. He climbed out of his bed and stumbled toward the source of his pain, the damn phone.

Grabbing it off the wall stopped the noise but only for a moment before holding it up to his ear. He winced hearing Sheriff Arndt’s condescending voice,

“Clark?” the Sheriff belted out before Clark could even collects his thoughts enough to even say hello,

“Yeah?” he asked back.

The sheriff could hear the grogginess in his voice and saw right through it.

“Christ Clark, its 1 in the afternoon, why the hell are you pulling your ass out of bed so late? You’re not using the dust again are you?” The Sheriff sighed loudly into the phone.

“God Dammit Clark, I’ve told you your gonna end up losin-“

Clark cut him off. “Lose what? What exactly do I have that you can take now? I’m minding my own damn business is what I’m doing Jason, something you ought to take up learning real quick, and I’m also about to hang up this damn phone.”

“Wait, wait,” Jason stammered, “Clark, look, I’m sorry, it’s just….one of the deputies found something in the woods, and we, we think you should get down here.”

“Well what the hell for?” Clark snapped back, losing his patience.

“Listen Clark, we need you down here and its something I can’t,…discuss over the phone.” The static filled voice droned on as Clark pulled the receiver away from his ear.

“I’ll get around to it” Clark snapped down the phone on its mount and stumbled further into the kitchen to make his coffee.

“Yeah, you think I should come down, you think, you piece of shit” Clark laughed in disgust to himself.

“That corrupt sack of shit wouldn’t think to close the door if it was raining outside, so yeah, he gets to decide what someone ought to do. Sure.” Clark started his coffee and returned to the bedroom to throw on his boots.

Almost in unison, about 15 minutes later the doorbell rang and the coffee maker sounded off.

Clark shot up from the chair he was laid back in, “I swear to god, if its-“ He stopped as he flung open the door to see Deputy Macklin, barely 20 years old, almost too small for his uniform.

“Yeah what do you need son?” Clark asked, kneading the sleep from his crusted eyes.

“Mr. Davis, I’ve been instructed to bring you down to the station, your not under arrest, we just need you to identify some evidence we think you might have knowledge of.”

Clark’s curiosity peaked, something was amiss, he’d been shut in his house all weekend with the flu, or so he’d told himself. He couldn’t have done anything on one of his drunk rants or benders. Something was wrong.

“Just a second.” Clark went back inside to snatch his coat and followed the deputy outside through the frozen slush to his jeep.

They pulled up to the sheriffs station 10 minutes later, all of Clark’s attempts to pry some information out of the young man were all met with same response.

“Jason said you need to see for yourself.”

Walking through the thick wood door and shaking off the cold of the winter the Sheriff turned around to greet them.

Gritting his teeth and biting his tongue, Clark simply asked “Well, you got me here Jason. What do you need me so bad for you gotta pull me out of the warm of my house into the cold and drag me down here?”

Sheriff Arndt stood silent. Dismally, he directed Clark to the back of the station into the morgue.

Clark nearly threw up in his mouth when he saw what was on the table.

Grisly chewed up pieces of some person, an arm, well about half an arm, a shred of a foot, and some shreds of cloth.

“What the hell are you showing me this for?” Clark shot out, choking back vomit.

Just then, the Sheriff gestured to the deputy to open a footlocker. Pulling the contents out, he revealed a rifle, Earl Sheffield’s rifle. Unmistakably his, the notches in the stock counting his deer kills and the old tarnished tan finish.

“You’re not trying to tell me you think that this,-” Clark mumbled out, trying not to gag, his finger shook, pointing to the table.

Jason cut him off, “We know its him Clark, it was in the same area as his cabin. We’re sending off blood and fingerprint samples to one of the big labs in the city for legal, but we know it was him”.

“That dumb son of a bitch was asking for it, he had it coming” Clark choked out.

“Jesus, Clark,” Jason winced, furrowing his brow.  “You two were the closest thing either of you had for a friend in this town these days. We thought you’d want to know, I’m sorry for showing you this, but I knew that you’d have to see things for yourself.” Jason rubbed his temples, eyes shut tightly.

“We couldn’t tell anyone else.” Jason said, pulling the rifle from the table and stuffing it back into the locker. “Man had no family, no friends, everyone he knew died or moved away since Irene left, except you” Jason said, attempting to remain sensitive.

Clark shot back, fighting off the salt water that burned his eyes. “If that dumb old bastard wouldn’t have went and holed himself up in that damn cabin he’d be right here fine. Not torn all to pieces by some fuckin’ wolf. Damn it Earl.” he trailed off, mumbling to himself, visibly pained by his thoughts.

“Clark…” Jason started but was cut off,

“I hadn’t talked to him since last spring Jason, I don’t know shit.” Clark snapped back. “I don’t know where he was or what he was doing out or who with or why, I don’t know shit, so take me back to my house and leave me the fuck alone.” Clark stormed out nearly mowing over one of the deputies.

One of the other officers chased after him to offer a ride, but he wasn’t taking it, Clark was walking. As he walked out the door just within earshot he heard two cops talking.

“No way in hell a bear did that to that him. This time of year?” one of the younger officers said to another,

“I don’t know, its rare for damn sure. But I have a cousin a few miles down the road ran into a pissed off Grizz in the middle of December couple winters ago, barely made it out with his skin. It ain’t common, but it sure as hell is possib…”

The large oak door of the police station swung shut leaving Clark out in the cold beginning his trek home.

“Damn you Earl, you dumb son of a bitch, why the hell couldn’t you have stayed in Whiteridge? You just had to get mixed up with that dumb bitch and go and drink your life away up in the mountains, didn’t you you son of a bitch, well now your gone, woe is me, torn to shreds by some animal.”

Clark swore to himself during his trek back home fighting back the bitter tears, and brushing off the cold creeping its way inside of his coat.

“That’s a great way to be remembered, good going. Some drunk hermit killed by some animal wandering piss drunk through the woods at night. That’s how they’ll remember you Earl and its your fucking fault.”

Clarks thoughts continued to spin and twist on his long walk back home. It wasn’t until he reached his house and went to grab more coffee that he snapped. The lonely, gray cabin cracking and creaking in the wind was too much for him to stand.

“FUCK!”

Clark yelled out, punching a hole clean through a wooden cabinet. He flung open his liquor cabinet and grabbed the first thing he could reach. He needed to get out of his head. At least for a long while. He was all alone now. All alone in this shit town freezing to death, barely scraping by.

The dreams came again that night, as they always did, he almost preferred the nightmares over these alcohol infused recollections of past mistakes and regrets, as vague as they may be sometimes. It haunted him the most, what could have been, what he could have done.

But these dreams, these were far different than the nightmares, images of what he wished his present held, and what he could never have.

He could see her face as he always did in these dreams, she was back, safe and sound in his arms. With him able to care for her. It were these short moments that Clark was truly happy, in his dreams holding his little girl in his arms, she had come back to him at last. He hadn’t lost her after all.

A state of temporary euphoria and sanctuary surrounded him. This was far different than his rented happiness he gained from the liquor or any of the drugs. Always, he awoke from these dreams quickly snapping back into reality, realizing how dim his life was compared to the safe haven of his dreams. Reminded constantly of how alone, and how worthless he was. In the eyes of himself, and of everyone around him. He wasn’t that different from Earl after all was he?

Chapter 2

Not far from the town of Whiteridge, further up the great mountain, past the jutting, jagged peaks and slopes, was the Paradise Ski Lodge. A 5 star rated establishment, bragged about and detailed in almost every travel magazine in the world.

The hotel at the resort, which was the largest, and tallest building at the lodge, was one of the top stops for the rich upper class or even some celebrities during the winter months.

Hundreds would flock to the small town to find comfort in the enormous Paradise Hotel. The resort, equipped with all manner of luxuries and comfort was a priority destination for the rich and powerful. The guests leisurely spending the winter weeks or even months living in their massive private rooms, enjoyed the surrounding ski resort and the small quaint town just down the hill from it.

Buying food at the small town diner, the guests laughed to themselves about how it seemed that this town had been forgotten in time, its small knick knack shops on every corner, run by families, stuck in this town, sentenced to run the shops and stands seemingly forever. The small one roomed hospital and the police station, old wood twisted and warped,housed it. The old building sitting near the center of town.

The wealthy guests emanated an attitude of superiority and snobbishness to their small town, kind hosts. The residents of the town simply didn’t care or couldn’t afford to care, this spurt in economic activity every winter, every year would always help them get through the dull and fruitless spring. Keeping their families off food stamps or welfare checks. Either way, the residents of the town were always glad when February would finally roll around and send this league of rich prudish people back to their summer homes or beach houses and life could go back to the simple way that had allured the residents to this town in the first place.

The quiet security and family mentality the neighbors had with the other people comforted and reassured all who called this desolate place home. They looked out for each other and knew everyones’ name. A concept lost out in the modern, demanding, and chaotic world that they had moved here to escape either by choice or by the way of financial circumstances.

The people loved their town and so would endure each winter with a fake smile worn on their face accommodating their guests to make it through another year.

The tourism season was still a few weeks off though, the snow was falling but not quite how it would yet. The shops and bars were barren, save a few locals buying essentials. The Paradise Hotels vast hallways and rooms were dimly lit and the residents tasked with the upkeep of the hotel could feel intimidation from this massive structure and its eerily lit vastness. No large amounts of guests would be arriving for a few weeks still and the employees still meticulously cleaned and straightened everything so it would be just so for their rich guests. The early birds would be arriving next week or so but they were so few and far between, the town didn’t excite much when the first few groups of people or so would pour in. But as more and more would pour in, the people of the town would study them with a sort of hateful fascination.

Rich parents looking to beat the crowd and frantic to pawn their spoiled kids off on some poor ski instructor, rich businessmen coming in with their mistresses, no doubt assuring their wives back home that they were on a very important and urgent trip. The rich eccentric artist types looking for an escape or “inspiration” on this vacation, Searching for any cure-all for their writers block that had plagued them for so many years after their best works. These things may seem judgmental or not true, but that was how the people of the town were, everyone there seemed to think they could get a read on someone within the first few moments of meeting them, whether by some sort of instinct they thought they might have or because it brought them some form of obscure entertainment in this quiet dull town. Conjuring up stories and scenarios in their mind about every guest and newcomer that came to the town or the lodge. The isolation of the winter months could take its toll on the human mind and for many of the residents it had. They didn’t take to outsiders well and most took their preconceptions or impressions of guests as fact. Avoiding them or despising them in their mind while serving them with the fake smile plastered on their face.

The small shop owners and people of the town served the rich folks because they wanted to, they wanted to keep their small business afloat, some started by themselves or inherited from their parents, some only continuing the business because “Dad would have liked it” staying in this isolated town out of fear and out of loyalty. But the employees of the Paradise Lodge served the guests and waited on them hand and foot because they had to. Because Albert Sanders signed their checks, their meager salaries just enough to keep them afloat in this cold town.

Albert Sanders, the owner of the Paradise Ski Lodge and one of the richest businessmen in the state. Albert Sanders who visited the town every week, his greedy eyes searching for any opportunity to save a nickel or make a quick buck on the backs of the townspeople.

Aside from the winters, the animals, and the other dangers of the town, the townspeople still feared something they feared more than anything; Al Sanders, always greeting him with nervous smiles and anxious “Hello’s” because nothing could put you below the poverty line, and into his pocket faster than getting on Al Sanders bad side. The people in the town knew full well that Al could blacklist their business from all the rich guests at the lodge while they stayed, or he would have another shop erected in the same year selling your same goods for half the price of yours. Because why would he care? He wasn’t a resident, he lived 10 miles down the road in his private estate. If your shop withered and died, he’d have another one in, in the same year this time on his payroll. Maybe he’d bring you back to run it, maybe he wouldn’t. This was what every business owner and resident of the town feared most, it wasn’t the wolves that stalked the dark woods at night surrounding their homes, it wasn’t the bite of the unforgiving winter on its worst storms. It was the fear that all they had worked for would fail and they, like so many others, would be living out of Al Sanders pocket for the rest of their days.

This isn’t to say that Mr. Sanders was an evil man, he was after all a businessman, and he did enjoy the company of the small townspeople, the small coziness of the town when he would visit, much over the quiet coldness of his enormous mansion, his wife divorced living off somewhere with her settlement. His children, all moved away waiting for him to keel over to get their cut of his fortune.

All of his grandchildren that he had never met because “coming out this year wasn’t in the cards” or however his spoiled rotten children put it. His short visits to the town bar or shops or diners were all that he cared for now in his life, but even then when he would visit he could feel a disconnect between him and the townspeople. He knew in his head that some of them believed he “had it out for them” which he couldn’t blame them for.

Maybe he had been a little too hot headed with business transactions and plans in the past. Maybe he had been too cold. Maybe his employees needed more. But that’s all they were, “Maybe’s” he was an old man now and he felt too tired to tackle any of his regrets or second thoughts now. He simply waited now, waited for the cold to take him or his age. His frequent visits to the town the only comfort he had now. Finding comfort in the company of the people who feared him. “Too far gone now” he thought, “too far gone now to change people’s perception.”

Chapter 3

Nate Clawson glanced into the rear view mirror. His brow furrowed, annoyed by his spoiled kids bickering in the back seat. Of course he loved them all the same, but he couldn’t connect with them in ways that he wanted to, ways he wished he could. There was a disconnect and he could feel it whenever he’d spend time with them. They hadn’t grown up like he had, hadn’t had to fight for anything, hadn’t had to ever wonder whether they’d eat dinner that night or not. Partly, he knew this was his fault. Always giving into their childish wishes and whims, but he hated to see them sad, and fulfilling their childish pleas and wishes brought him a sense of purpose and need. His father had been useless to him, had never shown his face, save for a few weeks here and there infrequently. Desperately, he needed to prove to himself that he was better than him, stronger, but a deeper part of him knew he was only his children he yearned to connect with.

His eyes turned back to the road. The freshly plowed wet mountain asphalt, snowbanks piled high on both sides of the highway. Pine trees looming on both sides obstructed the view of anything past the high walls of snow or anything further down the road. His brow furrowed, he hated coming up here. The cold was unbearable and the outdoors reminded him of his childhood. The woods were no vacation to him then, they were a means of survival, something he liked to keep hidden in the deep recesses of his mind.

Sighing, he glanced into the passenger seat at his wife, her posh, extravagant coat zipped all the way up to her neck, her earrings hanging through her short, cut hair.

“Nothing but the best for Ashley, whatever Ashley wants, that’s how it goes.” he thought to himself. “Including this damn trip”

“Every damn year we take this trip” he thought to himself. Just to keep Ashley happy, keep her from going off. Their marriage was a sham and nearly everyone close to them knew it. Nate’s family, their neighbors and friends.

He couldn’t divorce her, no, she’d get the kids. He knew it and she knew it. Even if the judge happened to hear him out, Ashley would no doubt have her lawyers dig up his DUI charge years prior. He’d instantly be labeled the alcoholic father incapable of raising two boys. What a perfect picture that would paint for her case. They’d be taken away from him, the only things he cared about in this world.

Trapped with this woman for these next few weeks. He shuddered, their massive home helped him escape from her insanity when he could no longer bear it. He had only come along in an attempt to keep Ashley from poisoning the kids minds with her lies. He knew she was sleeping around, using drugs. She was the time bomb, she was the one incapable of raising children. But he’d never be able to prove it. No, she was far to careful for that, always an alibi, always 2 steps ahead of him.

Years of this gone by and he was still stuck in this same place. The private investigators, the cameras, the lawyers. All money down the drain. His contempt for this woman burned deep, deep inside of him.

Even now, in front of his children, it burned. Quickly, he snapped back into reality, realizing he was staring at his sleeping wife with a look of pure hatred. He quickly went back to driving glancing into the mirror to make sure his kids hadn’t seen.

He’d done his best to hide the fights and the darkness from them. He knew all too well what it was like to live in a family coming apart at the seams. And at this point, ignorance was better for his kids than honesty, and he was going to keep it that way.

He was still safe. He breathed a sigh of relief, his two boys were still locked in their juvenile argument in the back seat, disconnected from the tension and cold hatred of the adult world just inches from them. Slowly, his eyes turned back to the road. They were nearly there. Nate could faintly make out the snow capped peaks of the foreboding yet majestic mountain. Its view slightly distorted by the grey chimney smoke billowing from the town below.

Chapter 4

Clark strained hard with his eyelids, struggling to open them. Encrusted shut from days of sleep and drinking, he slid his eyes open. He hadn’t left the house in close to a week, what moments he could remember were filled with the gaps in between his liquor hazed dreams and him tripping over himself to the toilet to vomit or pass out.

“If somebody wanted to know the definition of feeling like shit they’d just have to take a quick look at me” he thought.

Clark squinted, trying hard to pry back open his eyelids that fought back tirelessly, trying to protect his retinas from the scathing rays of the sun peeking through the blinds. Clark stumbled to his feet, nearly passing out, his eyes blurring for a moment. He stumbled, almost falling over into the dresser.

He held tight to the windowsill in his small lonely bedroom, winded. He looked down at his bed studying it almost, “just big enough for the room but “just small enough to be cozy” at least that’s the way she put it,” Clark thought to himself. He hadn’t shared this bed with anyone in close to 19 years he thought to himself.

“No, wait, 20 years, this March” he corrected himself. “20 years, son of a bitch, had it really been that long?”

“20 long years wasted away with alcohol and hatred.” Clark braced for the tears he always prevented, always fought back by gritting his teeth, tensing his muscles up. But they didn’t come, he didn’t feel better, no, he felt, numb.

It didn’t feel good, no, this wasn’t a relief from the regrets and the pain he’d dealt with for so many years, this was a far worse alternative, a hollow, aching, empty feeling inside. He had emotions that seemed trapped, like a sneeze that wouldn’t come. Leaving him waiting, pondering and searching his mind for what the next move was, what he’d do to blame his life on this time, or what he’d drown his pain out in, but really, all he felt was a sort of tiredness, exhaustion.

His mind was too numb to feel and too tired to fight anymore. He reached for the nearby bottle, but his mind stopped him,

“No, that wouldn’t work for this.”

His rough hands kneaded the sweat from his brow as he racked his brain, searching for what action to take, what temporary remedy to patch over this seeping wound.

“I have no fucking clue what will work for this.” Clark was hit all at once with this sudden realization and consciousness of his life. The sudden grasping of how long he’d spent wallowing in self pity and despair, and how much time he still had left.

He’d wasted more than a quarter of his life away.

For what? To live in the past? To wallow in the pain and regret that lay there?

“What is the fucking point?”

It was all so…damn repetitive. The result was the same every fucking time. 20 Goddamn years since Cass had died and what did he have to show for it? 17 fucking years since he’d lost his little girl Lizzie and what had he fucking got to show for it?

No friends, no family, all he’d done was driven everyone away. Refusing to connect to anyone, lashing out at anyone that dared to get to close. All the odd jobs he’d done for people over the years were always just straight business. Collect his cash and go.

“They don’t want to know me and I sure as hell don’t want to know them.” He’d say to himself. That, or whatever lie he was choking on that week, and he’d go about his way.”

Pissing away what little money he’d come by on drugs or booze, he was lucky he’d paid this shack off long before Cass had died, or else he’d have been thrown out in the snow long ago.

“How would..” His mind ached and throbbed as he searched for questions he had long avoided answering.

“How will I be remembered?” he thought to himself.

“Like Earl? Some drunk recluse? Pushing everyone away until he’d have no one left but himself? Running out the clock until his life wasted away?”

“The only person in this world that I had left that was even close to a friend and I pushed him out of my life too.”

“Now he’s gone and I’m not far off if I keep this shit storm up.” His clenched fist pounded the mattress he sat on. Jagged bed springs and clumps of fabric bounded up and down on the old cot.

“Fuck!” he yelled out. His voice echoing off the abysmal log walls of his house. Further embedding his isolation into his mind.

“Not like this” he thought to himself.

“It,….. I can’t end like this.”

He wanted redemption. He wanted, no, he needed to change, as soon as he had thought it, had committed it. Doubts crept into his mind, his past struggles echoing off his mind.

“I can do this.” he said to himself, his voice saturated with a confidence that he hadn’t had in years.

He stood up straighter, as he climbed off the bed. The mattress creaked and groaned as he left it. Grinning to himself, he pulled his old heavy coat over himself and walked towards his kitchen.

An unseen edge of rug, curved up and waiting, caught his foot and sent him careening downward. Clark cracked his head hard on the corner of his dresser and was knocked out cold.

Chapter 5

Nate awoke in his plush, oversized bed in the Paradise Hotel to a loud crash. Tangled in the bedspread and groggy from sleep he quickly fumbled out of the bed into the kitchen. “What the hell are you doing?!”

He came out to see his 2 kids wrestling on the floor. The shattered remains of a decorative vase sat strewn out on the floor a few feet away.

The two boys quickly snapped up to their feet, their minds conjuring up something, thinking of an excuse.

“Dad, he pushed me into the-“

His father shot back quickly, cutting him off without the chance.

“Damn it Owen!, I don’t give a shit who did it, we’ve been here one day and you two are still fighting?” Nate’s temples hissed with the fire of a hangover, gritting his teeth, he rubbed them desperately.

“I suppose I’ll just pay for this too, no big deal right Wyatt?” Nate spit, pointing to the shattered glass strewn across the lavish carpet.

The 2 kids were frozen in their tracks staring at their father. Stammering in their heads, they stood still, not knowing what to do. Nate stopped his rant as his eyes adjusted, he looked around, getting a sense for the room. Just now coming out of his sleep,

“Where is your Mother?” Nate snapped.

“She….she went down to the bar an hour ago, she said she’d be back later tonight.” Wyatt said his voice wavering, shaking.

Nate got a foul taste in is mouth just thinking of his wife, if he could call her that, but kept his disgust to himself. Wyatt, the older of the 2 boys had just turned 17 a few weeks before they’d left, and Nate feared he was beginning to have his suspicions about his parents.

Nate however, still couldn’t quite see him as a teenager, he still just saw the bright eyed little 5 year old boy with the all of the questions.

“She is still their mother, they still love her” Nate thought to himself.

“Well,….” Nate started, “Clean up the mess now, and for God’s sake try to go 5 minutes without fighting.”

Nate stumbled back into his room his eyes still full of sleep, his tanned fingers rubbed them sleepily.

Slowly, he stumbled into the bathroom and got in the shower, the warm streams of liquid cascading over him enclosed him in a sanctuary of warmth. Allowing him, if just for a moment to forget. To just be.

Lost in thought in this brief escape, Nate drifted through his mind in utter relaxation.

“What the hell would I have done if we had come somewhere like this back in the day? The kitchen is bigger here than my parent’s house was for Christ sake.” He closed his eyes as the steaming water ran over them, running over his lips. Lazily, he slung an arm up against the cold, smooth tile, bracing himself.

“Dad would never have gone for it,” he thought. “Too good for people like us,” he’d say.

Mind swirling, Nate breathed out into the steam of the shower, remembering. Images filled his conscious conjuring up memories long forgotten.

Summer, back on the farm.

If you could call it that. Nate’s parents’ land hadn’t yielded a profitable bounty of crops in years. The soil had gone sour, right around the time his father had picked up the bottle again.

Back then, Nate’s grandmother would have had him believe it was the work of God. Some unseen deity punishing his father for living in sin.

Nate had never really bought into that, but if some God up in the sky was making his mom go hungry just cause his dad drank too much, he didn’t want any part of him.

“New boots.” he had said proudly to his father, holding the box out for him to see.

The thin paper crinkled loudly in the box as the fine leather soles shifted in the cardboard container.

“Just like yours! The same brand!” Nate had said, pulling them excitedly from the box.

Carefully, he scanned his father’s expression as he set them upon the ground.

“I was saving on the side for something. I couldn’t quite figure out what, but I saw these today and they had my size!” Nate said.

His father’s expression still mostly blank, sat slumped back in his chair, a bottle swayed lazily in his fingers, brushing the carpet as it hung low, swinging back and forth.

All at once, his dad shot up in his chair. A scowl worn on his face. The glass bottle fell, bouncing and rolling on the stained carpet.

“That what you think?” His dad warbled out,

“Think you’re better than me? Your old man? Just cause you got some shiny new clothes?” His dad wobbled on the ground, stumbling forward.

“Well boy, nice things don’t mean shit. Ain’t for people like us. Know why? Cause we’re the poor folks, the scum of the earth. You better wrap your head around that real quick.”

Snatching the boots from the floor, his father rumbled out towards the front door.

Nate followed, watching helplessly, fearing to fight back. Whatever his father might do if he pissed him off would be much worse than whatever was about to happen to his new boots.

The rusted screen door rattled and shook as his father kicked it open. With a drunken grunt, his father heaved the boots through the air into the muck of the pig pen.

Nate fought back tears that burned his eyes with salt.

“Shit. Just like us.” his father laughed weakly before turning back inside.

That was Dad’s way, looking down on others that had more. The way the wealthy looked down on the poor. “What in the hell do they need all that shit for anyway?”

“Too good for simple life? What more does a man need?”

All these years later and his Dad’s words still echoed in his head. All he’d accomplished, all he had, and his fathers words burned inside his head and made him feel that he had nothing.

“Maybe, he was right after all these years” Nate thought to himself. His voyage through the deep thoughts hidden in his mind was interrupted by a knock at the bathroom door.

“Dad?”, through the hiss of the shower he could barely make out Wyatt’s voice,

“Dad, we’re going to that hiking trail the front desk clerk told us about.” he heard Wyatt’s voice again.

“Alone? The hell you are!” Nate shouted through the noise of the shower.

“Dad! its not that far from the lodge and Owen is coming with me too, you were the one just yelling at us telling us not to fight, there’ll be other people out there too.” Wyatt shouted back.

The yelling had taken Nate out of this rare moment of thought and self reflection. A moment he seldom had. And had thrusted him back into his life of constant irritation and anger.

“Alright, but stay on the trail and watch your brother, and both of you bring your coats!” Nate yelled back.

He could faintly hear his son acknowledge as he heard him walk away. His head sticking out of the shower, Nate noticed a few bottles on the bathroom counter, liquor, from the mini bar. Nate swiped them off the countertop, returned to the shower, and turned up the heat.

Chapter 6

The boys snow boots crunched across the frozen snow into the woods, laces flopped back and forth with each step, the heavy snow clumping together on them as they walked. The tall pines encased in blankets of snow surrounded them more and more with each step.

“Are you sure Wyatt?” Owen asked his eyes panning the tops of the trees, scanning.

“Yes, for the last time bears don’t hide up in trees, quit being such a pussy.” his brother shot back.

Wyatt’s words stung Owen, and he fought back tears that would surely freeze, still scared, Owen choked out. “Yeah you’re probably right.”

“Wyatt too now?” he thought to himself, he had felt his parents grow more distant this past year, they always seemed busy, irritated, always in a hurry. Now his brother had adopted the same irritated and rushed demeanor as his parents. He would hardly even talk to his brother anymore outside of rides to school and in between. But as cruel as his brother could be to him, he couldn’t lose him too. “I just want my brother back” he’d think to himself, “I just need to be his friend”

They continued down the trail, Wyatt constantly swatting hanging tree limbs with a stick that he’d found, ambushing Owen with a downpour of frozen snow detaching itself from the tall trees.

“Wyatt!, stop!” Owen pleaded.

“What? I’m just testing for bears.” His brother shot back with a snide grin.

“Wya….” Owen started, but choked. Tears welling up in his eyes.

They were a few miles deep in the woods now, the tall timbers obscuring the light that the early winter sun tried desperately to punch through the gray clouds. This, combined with the melting snow that had found its way inside Owens coat was too much.

“I told you,” Wyatt started, “Quit being a pussy or I’m leaving you out-,”

Wyatt stopped and turned seeing his brother on his hands and knees sobbing. His little brother’s meager crying sucked the edge right out of his attitude,

“Owen,…Owen knock it off, what the hell are you crying for?” “Here, you want the walking stick?”

His brother didn’t respond, and continued crying. Wyatt approached his brother,

“Hey listen, I’m sorry about the snow and I didn’t mean to scare you either.”

“It’s not that.” Owen gurgled out between chilled tears. “I…I thought this trip would fix everything” he continued.

“Fix what? what are you talking about?” Wyatt asked.

“The family. Our family. We, we always have fun on this trip, but Mom’s gone all the time and Dad doesn’t ever talk anymore, they’re going to get divorced, and you, then you’ll leave too. Owen sobbed out.

“Hey,” Wyatt spoke back, more serious this time. “They aren’t getting divorced, parents fight, like all the time, there are people out there who never even knew their parents, and they aren’t on the ground crying and me? I’m not going anywhere what the hell are you talking about?”

He had gotten Owens attention, his younger brother had turned up to look at him and had wiped some of the tears off his face. “Are you sure?” Owen asked softly.

“I’m sure,” Wyatt stooped, leaning closer to his brother. “You’re 14 now Wyatt. Enough of this kid shit, things are gonna be fine, come on, lets keep going, I see a cool looking clearing over there.” Pointing off the trail aways, he stooped and grabbed his brothers hand helping him up. “Lets go.”

They continued on. Owen saw it almost immediately. Wiping away the chilled tears from his eyes, Wyatt was right, there was an interesting clearing, just another few yards down the trail and 50 or more feet off the trail. Strange looking, supernatural even, the trees, yet thick around the clearing left an entirely untouched circle shaped piece of land in the middle of it, despite the lack of trees and other shrubbery, the clearing was faintly, if even, lit. It was almost visibly darker than the rest of the forest.

Owen immediately grew a disdain for it, but he couldn’t get anything out before Wyatt hopped over the snow bank defining the trail boundary and yelled back to him.

“Come on!”

Owen quickly followed, his stomach a pit of anxiety, but it was either follow Wyatt or be left on the trail all alone in the woods.

The boys crunched their way through knee-deep snow to the clearing, filling the gaps between their snow pants and boots with sharp, scratching, frozen snow. Trenching around buried rocks and other hidden dangers of the forest, concealed under the blanket of ice, they trudged further forward to it.

Wyatt reached the clearing first with Owen close behind,

“Wow,” exhaled Wyatt, his breath still short from the walk. He gazed all around the small clearing into the darkness that the pines hid.

“This is actually kind of creepy,” Wyatt laughed, staring in awe into the dark abyss of the frozen timber. Owen had almost reached his brother when something caught his eye, he quickly whipped around to see, but found nothing, just the empty quietness of the deep woods. The trees rustled above. Snow swirled downward toward the forest floor, bouncing off outstretched limbs of the pines, obscuring the light that trickled through from high above.

“Owen” he heard his brother call, “Come on you’ve got to se-“ Wyatt’s voice was cut short and followed by a bloodcurdling scream. Owen snapped his head back to the clearing quickly horrified by what he saw.

Some thing, some creature, had appeared in the clearing right next to Wyatt. Its figure obscured by the shadows, Owen could make out its hideous unearthly like body, it walked on all fours, its muscular legs covered in patches of faded fur, pounded the frozen tundra with its feet, enormous paws with large claws protruding from each foot, pounding with each step, circling Wyatt.

Its long snouted head, opened to show rows of rotting shark like teeth letting out an ungodly snarl. Its spindly tail leaving a snake like trail in the thin layer of powder on the ice.

Both boys paralyzed with fear, watched the gruesome creature move with terrifying precision. Its rotten jaws snarling, poisoning the winter air with its hot, foul breath.

“Owen!” Wyatt started but couldn’t finish. As soon as he’d made the first sound the beast’s mouth opened wide, emitting an ear piercing shriek. Without warning it reared up on its hind legs and plunged its icy claws into Wyatt’s chest. The sound of claws penetrating flesh brought vomit to Owens mouth. He tried to cry out to Wyatt, to scream but his crushing fear crumpled his voice box until all that left his lips was a choked whisper.

Wyatt screamed and gurgled, his mouth filling with blood. The beast lifted him higher until it was standing fully on its hind legs, holding Wyatt high in the air, it pinned him against one of the tall trees. Its claws sinking deeper into his torso, Wyatt screamed grabbing the beasts claws, his legs kicking violently in the air. Blood spewing from his mouth, he turned to Owen outstretching one of his arms.

“Owen,” he gurgled. “Run!”

It was then the beast turned and noticed Owen, its stared into him and let out a loud shriek. Drowning out Wyatt’s dying screams.

The thing turned back to Wyatt turning its head and opening its jaws on Wyatt’s neck, Owen turned away screaming, “Wyatt!” “Oh God!”

Wyatt’s shrieks of pain were quickly cut off by a ghastly snapping sound. Owen didn’t see what happened next, he was off, sprinting frantically into the army of trees. He ran through the thick wood, slipping on snow and narrowly dodging tree limbs, his vision obscured by tears pain and utter terror. He wouldn’t turn back, but he could hear it now. The pounding, the heavy pounding the beasts enormous paws made, just as it had when it had circled his brother.

He ran as hard as he could, the thing was right at his heels, that he was certain of. The tears and cold blinding him, he wasn’t sure if he was running towards the trail or not. The pounding grew louder and closer, he could now hear its heavy breath. Gasping for air in this thin, suffocating altitude, he sprinted frantically, when he felt a sharp pain in his leg.

“Not a cramp, not now, dammit!” He thought, running as fast as he could possibly move, knowing his life was being held in the balance.

Just as he realized that he couldn’t possibly run anymore his forward extended foot caught nothing but air, followed by his back foot. As he fell off this sudden drop, he felt a tugging at his coat, followed by a tearing sound of the fabric as he fell. One of the beast’s claws had nearly found him. He hit the ground below the drop, luckily only 7 or so feet down.

But he didn’t stop. Sliding faster and faster he found himself sliding down a steep hill, wiping the tears and frozen snow out of his eyes as he slid, trying to see. Terrifyingly, realized he was sliding down backwards. He squinted to see he was leaving a dark trail of blood in the snow as he slid, had he hit his head? He frantically felt around the top of his head horrified, but he was relieved to find that when he looked up to the overlook that he did not see the beast.

Still sliding, and growing faster , Owen moved his arm and dug his hand sharply into the hard snow. He spun himself around, now facing the steep hill he was careening down. As he spun, his arm caught one of the pine trees rooted deeply in the steep side of the mountain. Sickeningly, he heard an audible snap, as his other arm was jerked sharply backward and broken at the elbow. This was too much, the darkness surrounding his eyes encased him and Owen passed out. His limp body slid further down the icy hill.

Chapter 7

“Where are they?!”

Nate, eyes spun,dazed, his head splitting from the shrill voice. Squinting in the light, he tried to discern who was screaming at him. Nate pushed his face of the flat, rough bedroom carpeting, his vision coming into focus. Drained bottles lay to his side, a nearby pool of vomit greeted him with its presence, assuring him it was his. Head stinging, Nate stood up and squinted,

“Ashley,” he moaned, “What the fuck do you want?” clutching his head, desperate to stop the stinging.

“Nate.” the blur, with the shrill, piercing voice talking to him. “Where the hell are the kids?”

Nate’s head spun, as he tried to formulate a response.

“They, err…they went on a hike” he mumbled out,

“Nathan!” she screamed, it is 5 AM! Where are the kids?!” Confusion and panic engulfed Nate, snapping him out of his haze temporarily. Glancing at the clock, he yelled back

“You mean they aren’t back yet?!” “Oh God.” “Ashley!” He yelled, stumbling as he stood up, falling downward, nearly vomiting. “We, we need to go to town.” Nate said frantically smacking his pockets, “My keys, God Dammit, where are my keys?”

Ashely retorted, “You can’t drive you drunk-“ she started but was pushed out of the way by Nate, clutching his keys and racing out of the room nearly crashing into the closed door. “Nate!” “Come Back Here!”

He ran, the dimly lit hallways seemed to span endlessly, the faded carpet pattern mocking him as he ran, its repetitiveness nearly tricking Nate into believing he had gone the wrong way.

Panicked and gasping for breath, he stormed the elevator door and slammed the button,

“Come on, Come on” “Fuck!” Nate yelled, pounding the elevator door, The door opening almost precisely as he bashed it. The metal doors slid open to reveal a packed elevator, full of drunk college kids, laughing, giggling.

“Shit!” Nate yelled, the college kids jumped, startled and confused by him. He frantically ran towards the stair well, descending them with the grace of a bull.

Lightheaded, stumbling on every step, Nate continued downward, 3 more floors to go.

Reaching the last flight, Nate tripped and stumbled, crashing down the metal stairs. Without missing a second, Nate snapped up and plunged through the door. Running, he pushed through the automatic lobby doors, knocking them off their hinges. So focused, so determined, the gasps and shouts from the lobby patrons and the employees bounced off his ears without a second thought. Bursting into the cold night air, Nate ran for his car. “The sherif station, he thought, they’ll know what to do.”

Reaching the sherifs station, Nate skidded into a spot haphazardly and jumped from the car, rushing inside. Scaring the receptionist half to death, he choked out through panicked breaths, “My….My Boys, I…I need help”

The receptionist sat at the front desk, unamused, and trying to calm him down, tried to go through procedure. “Sir if you require one of the deputies services please fill out this form and have a seat”

Nate, unfazed by her instructions, continued. “The woods,….they’re in the woods, they aren’t back…..”

“We are happy to help you sir,” the receptionist started, “but please fill out this-“

Nate, crazed from fear and confusion snapped. “God Dammit!” “My boys are lost! they went hiking and haven’t come back! We need a rescue team, we need a, where the hell is your sheriff?!”

Out of the corner of his eye he saw two men approaching, a hand extended his way, “Sir, my name is Jason Arndt, I’m the sheriff here in Whiteridge” “Did you say you were looking for a boy?”

“Two boys!” Nate shot back, “My sons, Wyatt and Owen!” They’re in the woods we have to find them!” Jason turned to the man next to him and turned back to Nate.

“Sir I think you should come with us.” Jason said, his face hung heavy with concern. “We have a boy in the hospital that was just found out in the woods, we’re stumped, we have no idea who he is, he’s in the hospital just down the street, he may be one your boys you’re looking for”

Nate, panicked looking all around simply offered a grunt of acknowledgement, and followed.

Chapter 8

Owen awoke, blinded by the piercing fluorescent lights of the hospital. Focusing his eyes he tried to make out where he was. It all came flooding back at once, his brother, the monster in the woods, this had to be a dream, this couldn’t be happening. Owen’s steady breaths turned to panicked gasps, trying desperately to sit up. He couldn’t, nothing would move, his legs, his arms. His arm! He had passed out from the pain but now could feel nothing in either arm. He heard people enter the room. Owen, slipped into more panic, he took short shallow breaths of air, trying desperately to move.

Nate followed Jason around the front desk of the hospital, if you could call it that. The fibers of the building reeked with age. The long faded, peeling wallpaper, hung on the dimly lit walls. Its age distorting whatever design it originally held. The front desk, a thick old solid oak structure, covered in scratches from its years of use. The most modern piece of technology in this whole building was the small T.V. hanging from the wall in the waiting room, its rabbit ear antennas bending on the ceiling, a commercial blurred by horrible reception played mutely on its abysmal screen.

The majority of guests, should they ever injure themselves while vacationing at the Paradise Hotel, were typically flown to the nearest hospital, a few miles down the road into the next town. The emergency helicopter housed in its storage room on the roof of the hotel whisking them away to safety. The guests of the Paradise Hotel expected the best medical care available, and couldn’t be subjected to the so called backwoods, primitive equipment the town had. Another great idea implemented by Mr. Sanders.

This hospital typically only served local citizens as Nate was quickly shown, the front desk receptionist shooting him a glare as he walked past.

They entered the back room. Nate’s eyes locked on Owen, lying on the gurney as soon as they entered.

“Owen!” he rushed to his side, His son laid still, his eyes, glazed, staring off. His arms hung limp at his sides.

“Oh God,” Nate’s eyes began to well up. Turning to the others he frantically yelled, demanding answers. “What’s wrong with him? He’s…Oh God, he’s dead isn’t he?”

A doctor emerging from a back supply room quickly jogged over, “Excuse me, what are you doing in here?” he demanded.

The doctor turned to Jason, “Sherif, who is this man?” “He’s this boy’s father James, he came into the station.”

Nate frantically turned to the doctor, “What’s wrong with my boy?” tears welling up larger in his eyes. “Well nearly nothing considering where we found him, he’s got a mild concussion, and his arm is broken, other than that he’s fine.” “Why the hell isn’t he moving then?!” Nate demanded.

“Oh I apologize, Mr…….” James paused,

“Clawson!” Nate spat out.

“Mr. Clawson,” James continued. “Your boy is in a state of temporary paralysis caused by shock. Be it from the cold temperatures or the injuries he sustained. Other than that he is fine I promise, we have already checked his spine and legs, no injuries, and he is responding normally to stimuli. So no brain damage is evident, he just needs to rest and he will come out of it in a short time I believe.”

Owen looked at them, wanting to scream, he could hear them, could hear every word. He just couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. “Dad!” he wanted to cry out, but it felt as if his voice had been stolen.

“You think?!” Nate shouted,

“Sir, please calm down, I’ve worked in this town as a physician for nearly 20 years, it can get unbearably cold on the mountain, easily putting someone into shock who isn’t as used to it as locals may be. I’ve seen this type of case hundreds of times, he will be fine, I’ve already set the mold for his cast and I should have it on his arm within the hour and I’ve given him something to make sure he doesn’t fall asleep with his concussion, he will be fine sir I assure you, once he comes out of this temporary state of shock he will be back to normal.”

Nate, finally accepting James’s word, fell into a warm pool of relief, “Oh thank God,” Nate exhaled, rushing to Owen’s side, holding him tight, his face pressed tightly into hospital gown he now wore, tears coming out of his eyes. “Thank god” he whispered.

“Mr. Clawson….” Jason started,

“Nate” Nate retorted quickly, still holding Owen tightly.

“Nate,” Jason started, his tone sounded worried, “Nate, didn’t you say back at the station you had two boys?”

Nate’s eyes shot open, his pool of relief immediately drained by panic and dread, he spun around, “Oh my God, Wyatt!” “My boy Wyatt, he’s still out there! We need to find him, a search team, how many officers do you have?!” Nate shouted.

Owen lay frozen, tears that wanted to come but wouldn’t. He wanted to shout at his Dad, cry and hold him tight. Tell him how his brother was dead, tell him about the horrific monster, that thing, that horrible creature that had killed him out in the woods, and had nearly taken him. Or how he ran until his tears froze solid and his legs begged to stop.

He wanted to feel safe, his beacon of sanctuary, his father was right in front of him. Yet he was paralyzed unable to reach him. He wanted to throw himself into his fathers arms and just let go. “Don’t go in the woods” he thought, “Dad please.” He couldn’t lose his father now too.

“Just Dane here,” Jason stated solemnly, gesturing to the deputy next to him, “he’s the only one on duty right now, the rest of my officers aren’t due at the station til 8 and it would take over an hour to round them all up. Most of them are probably still sleeping. If your boy is still out there Nate, we need to go now.”

“Alright then,” Nate said, panicked, “Let’s go.” He started to walk out but was stopped by Deputy Black.

Turning to the sheriff he said, “Hold up Sheriff, 3 people ain’t much of a search party, if we’re gonna cover any ground worth covering we’d need two groups, and that’d put one of us out there alone, and that ain’t ever safe, especially this early.”

Jason sighed, “You may be right Dane.” he responded.

Nate, confused and infuriated shouted at them. “What the hell are you talking about?! My boy is out there in the woods we need to move!”

“Jason?” A confused voice interrupted them from behind.

The men turned around to see Clark, fumbling to put his jeans on, his hospital gown crumpled on the floor behind him, a large bandage on his head.

“Clark!” Jason said, turning to the doctor, “You didn’t tell me Clark was up yet,”

The doctor shrugged, “I hadn’t gotten a chance to.”

Jason turned back to Clark, “Clark you’ve been in the hospital a couple of days, nobody had heard from you so we sent a couple officers to you’re place,”

“I know” Clark cut in, “The doc explained it all to me, tripped on something and gave myself one hell of a bump on the head, what’s all this…noise about?” Gesturing towards the men.

“We’ve got a boy missing up on the mountain, we’re trying to put a rescue effort together” Jason replied.

“How far up?” Clark asked.

“We figure somewhere near Silver Creek, about where we found this boy” Jason replied pointing to Owen.

“Hell, I’m in.” Clark shot back, grabbing his boots off the ground and sitting down to lace them up.

Jason stared at Clark for a moment, both with confusion and caution, “Clark, Clark are you sure you’re in the condition to-“

“What? This?” Clark cut in, tapping his bandage with two fingers, “Just a scratch. Besides, I can tell you need men. three people ain’t much of a search party, like blondie here said.” pointing to Dane.

Dane shot back a dirty look going unnoticed by Clark.

“What do you say Sheriff?” Clark asked.

Jason stood stunned, Clark hadn’t addressed him by anything other than his name for longer than he could remember, always his first name, spit from Clark’s lips as if they tasted of poison to him. But this, this was different.

He stared at Clark. “Well, if you really are sure that you’re feeling ok, then you’re right, we could use you.”

Dane interrupted, “Sheriff, you can’t be serious, the last thing we need is this drunk asshole up there with us.” staring at Clark with a burning look of anger, Clark stared right back, the feeling was mutual.

“Dane, we got a boy missing up in the hills, a tourist nonetheless, the last thing we need is that kind of publicity before the season,” Jason stated with a threatening authority, stepping closer to the deputy, now inches from his face, “Now take whatever this personal bullshit is you have and check it at the fucking door.”

Dane stared at Jason sizing him up, his gaze intensified, burning, he scoffed and turned away from Jason, he snatched his rifle up and continued out the door, “Lets fucking go then!” he shouted back.

Nate turned and looked at Owen, tears welling up in his eyes, “I’ll be back soon son,” he whispered, leaning in and kissing his boy on the forehead before turning to follow Jason. Clark hopped up from his seat and swiping his winter coat off the table he followed.

Chapter 9

The jeep ride up the mountain trail was quiet and rigid, the only sounds were the faint whistle of the car’s heater through the vents and the jostling of the gear in the jeep that rattled with each bump on the rocky, snow covered, dirt road.

Clark huddled himself further into his coat, attempting to stave off the cold that slipped through the cracks of the old jeep, the canvas cover whipping back and forth violently from the wind outside. In the front seat, Dane crossed his leg over his knee, his filthy boot rubbing mud on the dash with each movement of the jeep. His cocky demeanor permeated into the rest of the car, chest puffed out as he leaned back lazily, Clark scowled at him from the back seat, patting his pockets for a smoke, nothing.

Sighing, he looked out the side window, the snow covered pines becoming gradually brighter from the rising sun, turning the dark blue hue of the cold dawn sky into the soft powder blue of the early morning. His head hurt like hell but in this moment, things seemed like they would be all right. Sometimes this frozen wasteland truly was beautiful.

The sniffling of the man next to him snapped him out of his peaceful daydream. He turned to the man, Nate, he believed it was.

“Hey, mister.” Clark said.

Jason and Dane, looked back from the front seats, startled by the sudden break in the silence that had remained constant since they had left. Nate pulled his hand away from his face wiping away stray tears,

“Yeah?, Clark was it?” Nate asked back, sniffing slightly.

“Yep,” Clark acknowledged, “And it was Nate right?” he questioned back.

Nate offered a solemn head nod of acknowledgment.

“Listen, Nate,” Clark continued, “We’re gonna find your boy, see us here, we grew up in these hills we know them better than our own streets back in town.”

Nate, who had been unconsolable until this point, jumped on this small offering of reassurance. “I sure hope so,” he replied, some confidence returning to his fragile voice. “Do you have any kids?”

Before Clark could answer, Dane let out an audible laugh, startling all the men in the cab. Dane without even turning around continued, “Yeah, this piece of shit had a kid, once. Til his drunk, strung out ass made the state take her away. Heh, better off in my opinion.” The deputy said with a coldness that would make even the most cruel of men cringe.

Before Clark could respond, Jason erupted, “Black! I told you back at the station, lock that shit!” Furious, he turned toward him more directly, “I don’t want any of this bullshit from either of you.” turning back and pointing to Clark as well.  Clark’s anger boiled inside of him, nearly biting his tongue off, he held it in.

The jeep returned to its cold, awkward silence. About 5 minutes later, they arrived at the pull off for Silver Creek, not a moment too soon.

The headlights illuminated the faded, wooden sign, that bore the Creek’s name. Coated in a layer of frost, one could barely make out the word “Silver” from the old sign. Jason parked the car and the men exited the car hastily almost in unison.

Standing outside the jeep, the wind nearly tearing the map from his hand, Jason tried to articulate a plan through the glove he held, pinched between his teeth, the fabric muffling his words. His bare hand gesturing to the map had turned almost a ghostly white from the unforgiving cold.

“Listen, the way I see it, we should go 1 officer and 1 civilian per group, we don’t need any other civi’s getting lost out here tonight.” Jason continued, “So, Clawson, you’re with me, Clark, its you and Deputy black, now we’ll take this pass here-“

“Sheriff you can’t be serious,” Dane interrupted with his whiny, arrogant voice. “You can’t pair me up with this drunk piece of shi-“ He didn’t finish, Clark had had enough.

In almost one motion Clark threw off his gloves and grabbed the deputy by the coat, two fistfuls of fabric clenched tight in each fist, he turned and shoved the deputy backwards hard up against the window of the jeep, cracking it, Clark pressed his fists into the deputies chest harder and harder, teeth clenched, he hissed out “You son of a bitch.”

“Clark!” Jason yelled running over and pulling him off, he stood between them, arms outstretched keeping them both back from each other. “Both of you, for a moment, try to get it through your thick skulls that we’re out here for something bigger than your bullshit little quarrels, we got a missing boy and a panicked father here, and with shit like this we are wasting valuable time. Now, me and Mr. Clawson here are taking Apache’s Pass, and you and Clark are taking Pine Grove, work your way up the mountain from there.”

“Sheriff cuff him, we can book him right now for assault of an officer!” Dane yelled spitting through his teeth.

Jason stared, angrily at the Deputy, and took a deep breath. “Black, for once, will you shut the fuck up?” He said calmly, leaning down to pick up the deputies rifle he had dropped when Clark grabbed him.

Standing back up he continued, “As far as I’m concerned,” he said thrusting the rifle hard back into Dane’s chest, “It was long overdue.” The sherif calmly folded his map back up into his coat and started walking, “Alright! lets move!”

Chapter 10

Clark led the way up the rocky trail to Pine Grove. Upward he heaved his legs further along the steep trail. His legs burned and begged too stop, his legs wobbled and shook as they pressed on. Nearing the grove now, he could see the clearing in the distance. He continued on, lungs stinging as he sucked in long, heavy breaths of the cold mountain air. He hadn’t turned around to see Dane since they had started walking but he could hear his loud, dragging feet close behind him.

Seething anger covered Clark, defending him from the cold, his body too hot with fury to be effected. Dane’s words echoed in his head. Stewing over the words he clenched his fists as he walked. But still, with each passing step, he felt a little more rage, escape from his mind into the chilly morning air.

They climbed the final stretch of steep trail into the grove, both men panting heavily, Clark reached the top of the trail first. Shaking, he took a few more steps forward and put his hands on his knees, attempting to catch his breath. Sweat dripped from his brow, falling down, staining the pure white snow. His frantic breaths the only noise in the encompassing silence of the snow covered woods.

“You know, people go missing in these woods all the time,” He heard Dane say behind him.

Clark pushed himself up off his knees and stood up,

“Yeah? and that means we should just give up searching for this kid then huh?” He said turning around to face the deputy. Clark stopped dead in his tracks.

The deputy stood, staring meticulously, his rifle trained on Clark. “Funny thing really,” Dane continued, “People go missing all throughout the year from our little town up here in these hills, and it’s only when one of these rich little tourist pricks go missing is the only time anyone gives a shit.”

Clark stared intensely at the deputy, “What Dane? Your going to shoot me? How’s that little plan of your’s work with Jason just over on Apache? He’d hear the shot, how’d you go about explaining that you little shit?” Clark said unmoved, his voice unwavered by the instrument of death being pointed at him.

Dane shrugged, almost smiling now. The barrel of the weapon hung steady in the air, unshaken. “I tell them you attacked me, went for my gun, ain’t that hard to buy after that little shit show you started back at the jeep, ain’t nobody gonna miss you neither far as I’m concerned.”

Dane circled Clark now his eyes never leaving the sights of his rifle. “No, I think our little town would be better off without having to worry about you, you dumb drunk son of a bitch.”

“No, I think I’d be doing my little town a favor, he smiled. He continued circling Clark, his smile growing with each step. His gaze intensifying as he pressed ever more slightly on the trigger.

It happened all at once, Dane took another step, his boot suddenly caving through the hard pack snow, the old, long forgotten bear trap clasping down on his leg, its rusted metal teeth digging into his flesh. The horrible scream that escaped Dane’s lungs as the rifle fell from his hands, crashing into the snow a few feet from him.

Clark sprang into action, he sprinted towards Dane and snatched the rifle from the snow, he removed the clip and heaved them both far into the woods. “Damn you Dane you crazy son of a bitch!” “You’re gonna fucking kill me?” “What now?!” What the fuck now?!” Dane writhed on the ground, his hands pulling at the trap that held him tightly to the earth as Clark yelled, inches from his face, holding his fists back as tight as he could. Clark’s screaming was quickly interrupted, they both heard it, the explosion.

It was the cannon the resort would fire each day at the peak of the mountain to purge the mountain of any potential avalanches, normally a safety precaution for skiers.

They had lived there their entire lives. They knew what it meant.

Clark turned looking up the steep hills to the peaks far in the distance. “Oh, shit.”

Dane, unfazed by the cannon, continued to slither around in pain. The radio clipped to his belt blared, drowning out his shrill screams of agony.

“Did you all here that?!!” Jason’s panicked voice amplified from the radio. “Dane you dumb bastard, didn’t you radio them that we were up here?!” “Fuck, everyone back to the truck! We need to leave now!”

Clark started sprinting back toward the trail, when Dane’s cries snapped him out of his adrenaline rush.

“Clark!” “Clark!” “Dammit don’t leave me!” His previous arrogant tone had been replaced by a pitiful cry of panic, the fear in his eyes chilled Clark to the bone. Clark looked at the trail and looked back at Dane.

“God Dammit.” he whispered to himself, running back to Dane’s side, he clawed at the hard packed snow with his bare frozen hands, flinging clumps of earth and snow in every direction, trying to unearth the trap.

“Oh shit,” Clark said to himself, uncovering the trap from its snowy grave, it was worse than he thought, the trap’s release mechanism had long since rusted shut, and its metal teeth were gouged at least an inch deep into Dane’s leg.

He had to think of something quick, he could almost make out the faint rumbling of the roaring army of frozen snow and other debris cascading down the mountainside. He shivered, pushing the thoughts out of his mind. Carefully, he felt along Dane’s leg assessing the damage, Dane letting out a faint whimper with even the faintest touch, ignoring him, he felt down nearer to the trap, seeing if he could pry it open somehow. When he felt it. The hunting knife holstered under Dane’s pant leg. He quickly slid up the frozen denim, fumbling for the knife.

It didn’t take long for Dane to notice what was going on, “Clark?” he pleaded, “Clark, what are you….what are you doing?”

Clark unbuckled the knife and drew it slowly from its sheath examining it. A fine piece of steel, nearly 10 inches long and about an inch and a half wide, serrated. The knife itself was made up of a thick tough metal alloy, the razor sharp blade almost glistening in the early morning sun that shone downward through the trees. The weight was impressive, almost intimidating, but he knew what he had to do.

Dane panicked, now frantic, he pleaded with Clark, “Clark, please, no….what, what are you doing?”

Clark sat silent, his eyes fixed on the deputies leg with sheer focus, raised the blade high above his head.

“Clark!” Dane shouted, “God no!”

Clark brought the blade downward hard, its blade piercing the frozen soil right near the trap’s anchor, a jagged metal piece, buried deep in the earth. The deputy let out a terrified scream, his eyes shut tight. Clark pushed hard on the blade, trying to gain leverage to dig it out.

The once beautiful blade, now covered in dirt, started to bend and twist under the pressure. Slowly, the rusted trap anchor started to emerge from the frozen earth, higher and higher it rose. It was almost out of the ground when the blade snapped, an audible crack of frozen steel splitting clean in two.

Clark fell over hard, his weight and momentum driving him downward into the snow,

“Shit” climbing back up, his frozen hands almost being cut now by the sharp ice. He stood back up. The rumbling of frozen death had grown louder now, and grew louder with each passing second.

Clark bent down, gripping the frozen chain that held the anchor, he pulled upward hard with all of his strength, his back muscles screaming, the rusted metal chain dug deep into his frozen hands, his brain begged for him to stop, the pain had become almost unbearable.

Finally, the chain emerged from the ground making a sound like that of a stubborn root being ripped from the earth.

“Come on,” Clark said, hand outstretched, “We have to move.”

He helped Dane up, slinging his arm around his shoulder, they limped as fast as they could towards the trail, the roar becoming almost deafening. The radio filled the air with panicked yells from Jason, now back at the jeep demanding to know where the hell they were. Clark didn’t answer, a wasted second now could cost them their lives.

They were moving too slow, they would never make it back to the jeep, Clark stopped, yelling over the roar of the mountain

“Dane, up the tree now!” Gesturing to the tall pine just off the trail to their left. He bent on one knee interlocking his bloodied hands, “Come on!” Dane stepped into his hand with his good leg, Clark boosting him up as hard as he could, his wounds filling with dirt and snow from Dane’s boot. The deputy clasped the pine’s limb and continued to climb as fast as his wounded leg would allow the eerie jingling of the traps chain, could strangely still be heard through the rumbling.

Clark followed quickly, jumping high and grasping the branch tightly, his gored hands stinging with rough bark and sap. Clark climbed higher and faster, passing Dane in the tree, survival his only thought. As he climbed higher he was able to see over the tree line further up the hill, the trees shaking violently as if possessed by some other-worldly force, powder exploded up from down below as the tidal wave of snow crashed into the pines, the roaring invading his ears further.

He barely heard it, “Clark!” a faint voice called out. He didn’t understand at first. He heard it again, “Clark! Help!” He looked down the tree to see Dane stopped, stuck.

“Shit,” Hurriedly, he began to climb down, but the ice on his snow covered boot slipped from the tree limb, sending him tumbling backward into the tree. A sharp severed limb penetrated his coat gouging deep into the flesh on his shoulder.

He let out a cry and fell downward, bouncing off tree limbs trying to stop himself, finally, right above Dane, his swift descent came to a screeching halt. Crashing hard, torso first into a large limb, he stopped abruptly, the ice and debris shook violently from the branch showering Dane below. The sickening crunch of what he was sure was at least 3 or 4 ribs followed. The pain nearly made him vomit, black surrounded his eyes.

“Son of a bitch.” he coughed out.

He could see it now, looking downward it was clear what had stopped Dane. The anchor. Still attached to the trap the anchor had gotten caught on a limb. Dane hung frantically from the limb he was now on, screaming in pain, the trap stretched him back downward, digging deeper into his leg.

Clark jumped down, bounding off of the limbs with the precision of a cat, biting hard into his tongue to ward off the darkness surrounding his eyes as his ribs shifted inside of him.

He reached the limb and pulled the chain out of its snare just as the wall of snow burst through the tree line in front of him.

“Go! Go!” Clark yelled upward, leaping as high as he could grabbing the first limb he could reach, hoisting himself upward. His ribs shifted inside him, the agony made vomit once again return to his mouth, he ignored it, higher he pulled until he could bear hug the limb as tightly as he could. The avalanche passed just feet beneath his back as he dangled from the tree limb, the roar and the spray of the snow showering him in powder and other debris.

He refused to let go, his body begged him to, he only held tighter. The blood and sap on his filleted hands almost creating a sealant between them and the tree. Clark screamed, holding on for his life, snow and debris sprayed in every direction, filling the inside of his coat by the second. The roaring continued, shaking him to the core.

After what seemed like hours, the roar gradually was reduced to a rumble, and the rumble reduced back to the normal silence of the woods. Clark shot his eyes open, coughing. Powder and dirt filled his mouth, he pulled hard upward and began ascending further up the tree to a large limb where Dane now sat.

Climbing upward, he headed to where Dane rested, Clark’s coat arm was soaked with blood, now freezing solid. His hands were bloody and dripping, encrusted in dirt and bark. He reached the limb panting heavily, nearly passing out, he slumped onto a large limb near Dane and leaned his back against the tree catching his breath.

The deputy, wincing and trying not to pass out examined his leg, even from where Clark was sitting, it looked horrible.

“Here,” Clark said producing a flask from his coat, “We need to stave off infection as long as we can.”

The deputy shut his eyes tight, grit his teeth and simply said, “Alright, Go”

Clark lifted the snow clumped pant leg above the trap, 4 or 5 deep puncture wounds were on either side of the leg, the wounds a purplish color with the blood frozen to the trap around them.

Clark unscrewed the flask and poured the spirits into the wounds. Dane held in his moans biting his hand, but Clark could see the water welling up behind his eyes. Producing a small cloth from his coat, Clark dabbed at the wounds, drying them, Dane wincing from the smallest touch.

“Well the good news is,” said Clark, “Is that the trap seems to be stopping the bleeding for now, and it seems like its missed your tendons” he continued, examining the leg closely.

“Clark, listen…..” Dane started, through panicked, enormous gulps of air.

“Let me stop you there,” Clark interrupted. He looked deep into the deputy’s eyes and simply said, with a cold, calculated anger, “The way I see it,” he paused, “I just thought I was doing our little town a favor.”

The deputy was almost immediately silent, his eyes looked downward dodging a response Clark was waiting for. Clark, satisfied, turned to Dane again and said “Give me that radio.”

Chapter 11

Knuckles white, Jason continued down the road, his Jeep flying down the mountain trail with the avalanche still close behind. It had grown much smaller but he wasn’t taking any chances. He drove around corners with speed and precision that even Jason didn’t know he had. Nearly sliding off the road, they made the final curve and continued down the now paved road toward town, leaving the mountain behind.

Jason and Nate looked at each other, gasping for air, both with looks of tired relief, they had made it. It was then that the radio came on. An exhausted voice buzzed over the speakers,

“Jason, come in.” “Jason, come in, over.”

With a look of shock and relief Jason snatched the radio off the dash. “Clark?!” “Clark is that you? How the hell did you make it out of there?!”

“Me and Dane, we weren’t gonna make it to the jeep, we climbed a tree, it just missed us.” The voice buzzed again the static distorting Clarks speech.

“Hot damn!, You and Dane made it!?,”  “Yes!” Yelled Jason slamming his free palm onto the dash, yelling back into the radio.

“Now Jason,” the voice buzzed back, “Me and Dane are pretty banged up here, how long til you can make it back up to us?”

Jason thought to himself, quickly calculating. He raised the speaker back up to his mouth. “I’d need to get my chains on here real quick, and we’ll head right back up, it’ll be slow going but I probably figure about an hour til we can get back to Pine Grove, including our hike in, I’ve got enough snowshoes in here for me and Nate here, we’ll get there as fast as we can” Jason thought for a moment.

“What about evac? Can you both walk out? What’s the status of your injuries?”

The radio paused momentarily, before starting back up, the static distorted voice again blaring over the speakers. “I can walk fine,” Clark said, “I can’t say the same for Dane, he…..he stepped in a bear trap.”

Jason held the mic staring at it in shock, he wanted to say something but all he could get out was, “Jesus,”

“Yeah, he’s tore up pretty bad,” Clark continued, “Have you got a medical sled in your jeep?”

Jason came back through, “Yeah I’ve got all the supplies in here, we’re on our way, just hold on Clark”

“Just get up here as soon as you can, we’re in a tree right off the trail just before the grove, radio me when you get close” Clark said.

“Copy, are you two gonna be ok up there for that long?” Jason asked.

Clark turned, staring at the horizon, the early morning sun had finally poked up over the trees. Clark soaked up the warmth and turned back to the radio. “Yeah we’ll be alright, over and out.”

Jason breathed a sigh of relief, setting the radio back on its hook. Nate turned to him quickly, his words laced with panic. “If, If they made it through that……” he paused, collecting his thoughts, “then…..then Wyatt could still be alive too right?” he choked out through tears and sobs.

Jason looked hard at Nate, he had known this man only a few mere hours, but yet he felt a sort of connection, a friendship beginning even. He couldn’t do it to this man, not yet, not until they knew for sure, but Jason knew, he knew the mountain itself took people faster than any of the other dangers this forest had awaiting in its darkness. He knew the fact that even experienced locals like Clark or Dane making it out alive was a damn miracle.

But yet, he humored this panicked man’s frightened pleas, “That’s what we’re counting on” said Jason, looking Nate in the eyes. He saw a temporary break in the fear that had surrounded this man’s eyes since he had met him.

Jason turned away, feeling guilty almost. Who was he to give false hope? To hurt this man even further. Looking at the floor, feeling guilty, Jason pulled over sharply, “Come on” he said, turning to Nate, “We’ve no time to lose, help me get these chains on.” Throwing the Jeep into park, the two men burst from the jeep doors into the cold air and frost covered ground.

Chapter 12

Clark stirred, the light of his bedroom stinging his eyes, “Daddy” he heard it again. He pried his eyes open, blinded by the light. “Daddy” he looked up, his little girl Lizzie stood over him, her tiny, innocent face hovered inches above his. Her fine blond hair pulled back into tight little pig tails.

“Daddy, will you color with me?” her soft innocent voice asked. Clark smiled pulling himself up kissing her on the forehead, “Sure sweetie, Daddy just needs to do something first,” Clark said pulling himself out of bed.

He needed a drink fast, the ringing headaches of a hangover were starting and he could feel his thoughts returning. He quickly ripped open the cupboard doors examining the empty shelves. “No, it couldn’t be,” he thought to himself, “I can’t be out.” He pulled open drawers frantically rifled through cupboards and still came up empty. “Fuck!” he yelled throwing his glass hard, downward into the kitchen floor. His daughter jumped from the noise, staring up in fear at her father.

Clark ran to the calendar, meticulously, he ran his finger over it, trying to remember what day it was. “Shit, check doesn’t get here until next week, God dammit!” he thought to himself, his anger boiling over.

“Daddy, are you ok?” the soft, voice asked. He looked down at his daughter, her tiny hands clasped her coloring book close to her, her meager assortment of crayons held tightly in one fist.

Staring at her, Clark thought of it. He knew what to do. “Sweetie?” he asked softly, “go put on your white shirt with the kitties on it ok?”

His daughter stood still, a look of confusion on her face, and spoke, “But Daddy, that one is old, its all dirty and it has all the holes in it, don’t you like my butterfly one?” she asked softly, gesturing to her tiny blue shirt she now wore.

“Just!” Clark started, yelling, his eyes clenched tight, the headaches returning. He looked at his daughter now, a sad look of fear she now wore. Clark started again, regaining his composure, “Just, do as Daddy says ok?”

She looked up innocently and simply said, “Ok Daddy,”

She returned sometime later, now wearing the ratty, hammered clothes Clark had requested. “Good job sweetie, now come here,” Clark said producing a hair brush. He stooped down, pulling the hair ties out of her pigtails. “Daddy!” she protested, “I just learned how to do pig tails, don’t mess them up!”

“I’ll fix them when we get home” Clark said, annoyed, using the brush he slowly tangled her soft hair into knots, giving her hair a nappy, messy appearance. Clark stood up, examining his handiwork.

“Not quite,” he thought to himself. He turned around and started walking, he knew just what to do.

He returned sometime later, producing black soot and ashes from the fireplace, “Alright honey, stay still, close your eyes.” With careful calculation, he sprinkled the ashes into her knotted hair, rubbing the soot onto her cheeks and arms. “There,” he said. “Perfect, come with me honey.”

Clark glanced in the rearview mirror, Lizzie in her car seat in the back. Driving, Clark looked up and asked, “Now you remember what to say when the lady at the desk looks at you?”

Lizzie without looking up, twirled her small fingers together, “I cough and tell her that I am hungry.”

Clark smiled to himself, driving as quickly as he would allow himself, his head burning and stinging. “Good job sweetie, alright we’re almost there.”

They pulled into the parking lot, the pavement still wet from the spring, from the snow melting and the constant rain showers, the chilly air awaited them outside the car as they approached the building, the sign above the door read; WELFARE OFFICE.

The woman at the desk continued, “Well Mr. Davis, the only trouble here is this is the 3rd advance on your welfare benefits that you have requested in a 90 day period. I’m afraid there’s, there’s just nothing we can do.”

Clark looked back, producing fake tears that would fool even the craftiest of con-artists.

“I just,” he paused, sniffling, leaning in closer to the woman. “I’m sorry, it’s just, I just need, I need, to feed my daughter, I can’t stand to look at her like this anymore.” He continued looking over at Lizzie, the little girl covered in filth in the ratty clothes, sitting in the oversized chair at the desk.

On cue, Lizzie looked up and softly said “I’m hungry,” followed by a petite cough.

“Perfect” Clark thought to himself, he looked back at the woman at the desk, tears welled up behind her eyes, as she looked at the somber little girl.

She looked back to Clark, “Well,” she said wiping her eyes, “Since you have produced evidence of your search for employment, I’ll authorize this extension for you, just this once.” She filled out the rest of the paperwork and handed Clark the signed check.

“Oh thank you so much, God bless you,” Clark said, lying through his teeth, he stood up, scooping Lizzie up from the chair and left.

Re-entering his house, Clark set Lizzie down and hurriedly gathered his things. She started again, “Now can we color Daddy?” She asked, her dirt covered face looked up hopefully.

Clark, without even turning around, responded, “Sorry sweetie, Daddy is going to be out with his friends until tonight, he has some grown up stuff to do.” He continued, throwing his coat on and walking towards the door. “There should be some cereal in the cupboard, I’ll be back tonight” He said to her, still not looking back. He opened the door and walked out, the door slamming shut behind him.

Tears welled up in Lizzie’s eyes as she set down her notebook and began to cry. Her fragile sobs echoing off the cold, dark walls of the cabin.

Chapter 13

Clark snapped up violently, awoken from his dream, nearly falling out of the tree in the process.

Dane grabbed his coat from behind, “Whoa Clark,” pulling him back as hard as he could. “Are you ok?”

Clark looked at the deputy, but quickly turned away, doubling over, vomiting violently off the side of the tree. Running a cold sweat, Clark fumbled for his flask, unscrewing it and shaking it over his mouth.

Empty, not even a drop fell from the metal opening,

“God Dammit!” Clark yelled, throwing the flask into the woods nearly falling again. Dane turned, his speech slowed by the cold and the blood loss, “Here, you need to calm down,” he said, slowly extending his hand which held a two cigarettes and a lighter.

Clark hesitated, not normally someone to accept favors from someone the likes of Dane, but under the circumstances, he accepted. He took one, setting it in his mouth lighting it, turning to light Dane’s as well that now hung limply from his mouth, his lips blue and shaking.

They sat seemingly forever, suspended from the frozen pine. Waiting, huddling their coats close to stave off the cold. Dane was getting worse, they had to get out soon.

Finally, the radio buzzed, “Clark, come in,” “We’re nearing Pine Grove, do you copy,? Over.”

Clark grabbed the radio, exhaling he acknowledged Jason, “Copy, how close are yo-“

Clark started, but was cut off by the voices he could hear in the distance, he turned back to the radio, “Jason we hear you, keep heading east.”

“Copy” the voice on the radio said.

The voices grew nearer and nearer until Clark could begin to hear the crunching of the snow under their feet.

It was Jason who first reached the bottom of the tree, tugging a sled behind him. He looked upward, “Clark! lets go!” He yelled up. Slowly, with Clark’s assistance, he and Dane descended the tree, Clark hopped off the tree first at the bottom to help pull Dane off the tree, avoiding his marred leg.

“Jesus,” Jason said grabbing the first aid kit from the sled, rushing to Dane’s side, examining it, he disinfected and bandaged what he could. Turning to the deputy he said, “Dane, we don’t have the tools to get that off up here, just hold the chain so it doesn’t snag anything as we take you down and”

He stopped, they all heard it, they all snapped their attention up to the noise they heard, footsteps approaching.

Nate’s head finally appeared over the steep snowbank in front of them, they sighed with relief turning back to Dane, helping him into the sled as Nate stopped, exhausted, gasping for air and leaning on the first tree he could find.

“I hate to tell you this Nate,” said Jason laughing to himself, helping Dane into the sled, and strapping him in, “We ain’t staying for long, we got another long walk back to the jeep,” Nothing, silence.

“Nate?” asked Jason, confusion in his voice, he turned around to see Nate, on his knees, quietly sobbing,

“Oh my God” Nate whispered to himself, “Oh my God.” he sobbed out again.

Jason stood up, walking to Nate’s side, “Nate are you alright?” He continued over but stopped dead in his tracks, “Oh God.” The sheriff said his hand clasping over his mouth,

Clark ran over to see, immediately wishing he hadn’t. There in the snow, half buried, just feet in front of Nate was a winter coat, torn to shreds and covered in blood. Amongst the mess, on the tag of the coat, written with a faded permanent marker, one could make out just enough, the letter W.

W, for Wyatt.

Chapter 14

Sparks flew inside the operating room. Not normally a product of a surgeons tools, but after much deliberation between the men, James had concluded that the best tool he could use to remove the bear trap from the deputies leg actually sat out in his truck, his metal grinder from his shop back home.

Dane bit down hard on the cloth in his mouth, his leg shaking, both from the intense pain, and the stray hot sparks occasionally bouncing off his bare leg.

When asked why he hadn’t put Dane under anesthesia for the procedure, morbid as it may sound, James had simply said, “He didn’t want to accidentally go too deep with his grinder.”

Minutes later, the ancient trap gave way, its teeth pulling themselves out of Dane’s leg from its weight, Dane groaned in pain as the trap clattered to the floor beneath him. The doctor disinfected the rust filled wounds and bandaged them tightly, following the procedure with a full tetanus shot, as well as a high dose of morphine, Dane slowly drifted away into a calm sleep.

Outside, on one of the hospital beds, lay Clark, the nurse disinfecting and bandaging his mangled hands tight. She cleaned out the deep gouge in his shoulder, and wrapped a large bandage over his chest around his ribs. She left to wash her hands and to retrieve the painkiller. As she approached back to Clark’s bed.

Jason stopped her, “Just a moment Miss, please, police business.”

Jason pulled up a chair next to Clark’s bed and sat down, pulling the curtain shut around the bed and nightstand, he sat silent for a moment, almost searching for his words.

“Listen Clark,” he started, searching for his words, “Dane told me what you did….that was a damn brave thing to do Clark”

Nate stood beside Owen’s bed, his dry red eyes stinging, dried tears stuck to his face. Lost in thought he stood staring into the wall. Wyatt, his little boy, gone. All the times he could’ve had but hadn’t, all the things he had still needed to teach him.

His eyes began to well up again when Owen stirred on his bed, his attention shifted downward, Owen squirmed, squinting his eyes, finally he opened them focusing in on Nate.

“Dad” he said weakly, “Wyatt,” he began to choke up, “Wyatt’s…..”

His Dad stopped him, “I know son, I know” Owen leaned up in his bed, they embraced each other neither wanting to let go. Owen held his father tightly sobbing into his shoulder, Nate stooped down leaning in he held Owen tight, still staring into the wall, nothing left to feel.

He simply turned to Owen and said, “I love you son.” gripping him tighter.

“So with my full recommendation I don’t see why I couldn’t make it happen,” Jason continued, “In short Clark,” he said, looking into his eyes, “What would you say if I could get you to see your daughter again?

Chapter 15

Nate stood outside The Paradise Hotel, cigarette in his hand, once again he tried to light it, his hands trembling too much to stay still. All around him were noises, voices of guests arriving and the employees greeting them, the automatic doors constantly closing and opening, the noise of cars pulling in and out.

Yet, Nate felt as though he was in complete silence, completely alone. Staring at the frozen slush, his cigarette finally lit, he tried to put together words, sentences, some way he could explain this to Ashley. Scanning his brain for the best way he could put it. That their son, their son was gone, just, gone.

The smoldering end of the cigarette burned Nate’s finger, snapping him out of his daze.

“How long have I been standing here?” He thought to himself, examining the singed butt of the cigarette.

“Burned right down to the filter,” he thought, “I don’t even remember lighting it.” Flicking the burning stump of the cigarette into the nearby snowbank, he stooped and grabbed a handful of slush, trying to cool off his burn.

He sighed, turning towards the door, he dried his hands, gritting his teeth. He walked forward, his movements seeming almost surreal, the “Whoosh” of the automatic door snapping him back into reality yet again. He shook his head, and rubbed his temples, squinting his eyes. Trying to gain some sort of concentration, he continued forward, walking towards the elevator.

When he reached his room on the 4th floor, he raised his arm to knock, almost out of sheer habit.

“What am I doing?, this is my room.” He gripped the cold brass of the door knob and entered.

Ashley was already standing in the Archway when he entered, she was stooped over the small, side table, organizing something.

Startled by his entrance she quickly spun around, her look of content instantly replaced by a look of annoyance upon seeing her husband. “Hello Nathan,” she said coldly.

“Ashley,” he started, trying to find words, “I need to talk to you,” he grabbed his wife’s hand, leading her into the adjacent living room. She instinctively pulled her hand back at first, but followed.

He sat her down at the sofa, his finger aimlessly twirling one of the small tassels on its armrest, he sat, at a loss for words, not wanting to speak. He didn’t know how long he had been sitting there, but Ashley finally spoke,

“Well?” she asked, her voice encumbered by an annoyed tone.

He looked up at her, all the hate he had harbored towards this woman in the past years seemed to fade away as he thought. It all seemed so small and worthless now.

“Ash,” he stopped, thinking to himself, he hadn’t called her Ash in years. What had this all been for? The fighting, all of it.

“Wyatt,….. Wyatt,” he choked back tears, his voice cracking. “Wyatt is gone, our son is dead,” he said softly, tears secreting from his eyes, his hands quickly gripped over his eyes, wiping them away.

After some time he looked up, curious almost. Was it shock? Was it pain? What had kept her silence for so long? He looked at his wife, almost shocked. Ashely stared at him, unfazed, no hint of negative emotion.

“Really? that is,…interesting.” she said, staring at him.

“Ashley?” Nate asked, puzzled, furrowing his brow, he stared at her. “Are you not hearing what I am saying?” he stopped, he heard the toilet flush and the sink turn on in the bathroom in the next room, he looked up to see him enter the room.

Ashely’s attorney, Roy Dean, a short, red faced man. His bare scalp bore beads of sweat underneath his combover of his thin, rough hair. This weasel had been in Nate’s business and affairs for the better part of two years, searching for something, anything to make his money.

Nate’s blood pressure doubled just at the sight of him.

“What is he..?” Nate started but was cut off by Ashley, without even turning around

Ashley looking up, spoke to the man, “Roy dear, wait in the other room will you?” A grunt of acknowledgment was heard from the stocky man, and he disappeared into the hallway.

“Ashley, what the hell is going on?” Nate demanded, “Let me stop you right there, hold on a moment Nathan,” she said standing up and going to the other room, she returned holding what looked like a series of photographs. She sat down again. “Nathan, let me say this quickly.” “I’m divorcing you, I can’t take your abuse and neglect anymore,” she said coldly.

Nate was taken aback, “What?” “What the hell are you talking about?” “You’ve got no case Ashley!” “You want my money? You won’t see a dime of it you bitch!” Nate yelled.

“I’d keep your voice down if I were you Nathan, As you see” she said, holding out some of the photos, her acrylic nails tapping lightly on the backs of them. “I do in fact, have quite the case”

Nate examined the photos closely, they were of him, yesterday, or this morning, he couldn’t remember anymore. Passed out in the bedroom on the carpet, empty bottles at his sides, there were several, all like the one before it.

Ashley continued, cold, calculated, “As you can see, I have evidence of your drinking problem and neglectfulness that has hurt this family for years, Normally not much to go off of, a series of pictures,” she continued, her voice steady, unbroken, “But this particular episode resulting in the serious injury, and after this recent development, death of one of our children, you can see how that would appear quite worrisome Nathan,” Nate grimaced, unable to comprehend, to grasp, the coldness of what Ashely was saying.

He looked up from the photographs in horror, staring at Ashley, trying to put together words. “Our children were missing, and the first thing you thought to do was to collect, evidence?” The words secreted from his mouth as if they were a bitter poison.

“My children” Ashley quipped back.

“What?” Nate asked,

“My children Nate, at least after all the legal work is done, I’ve already shown what I have to Roy, both these photos of you and the photos I took of Owen, and he’s assured me that there isn’t a court in this country that wouldn’t grant me full custody, especially after this recent news, it’s a shame about Wyatt,” She said, her voice unfeeling. “But I will see to it that Owen is under the care of a stable, well balanced parent from now on.” a smirk beginning to form on her evil lips.

Nate couldn’t believe what he was hearing, he stared in confusion at this woman he thought he knew, but as he stared back at the blank expression of this woman, he began to comprehend, that he had no idea who this person was that sat before him now. “I,….You….”

Nate searched for words, nothing came out. He felt the anger boiling inside him, desperately he searched for something to say but all he got out was;

“FUCK!” he stood up, his one heavy arm sweeping the china and centerpiece off the table in front of them sending it all crashing onto the floor, shattering.

Nate stormed out slamming the door behind him, he turned around just enough to see her through the crack of the door, there sat Ashley, staring at him, almost grinning.

Chapter 16

“Shit,” Clark thought to himself as he looked down at his meager cards, poker never really was his game anyway. He clasped his cards tighter in his bandaged hands, trying to keep his face taut and serious, “Call” he said, leaning forward to put his chips in, he grabbed his coffee off the table and leaned back, wincing. The painkillers had taken most of the edge off, but he could still feel his ribs shifting around inside of him, the feeling was nauseating.

Clark turned back to look at Nate, sitting against the wall, cigarette in his hand, his gaze lost in the ceiling tiles. He leaned in close to Jason.

“Jason,” his tone quiet and serious. “What the hell do you think happened to that boy in the woods? Wolves?”

“More than likely.” Jason said, looking up. “I wish they’d shut down those damn hiking trails. Seems every year someone gets lost in those pines and we have to go haul their frozen ass out.” “But shit Clark, let’s talk about this later, the boy’s father is right there.”

Clark casually turned around catching a glance of Nate. The man hadn’t moved, still sitting, lost in thought. Clark’s brow furrowed, he had returned to the hospital almost an hour ago and still hadn’t said a word. Clark didn’t blame him though, the man had just lost his son. Nate readjusted himself quietly in his chair folding his arms and shutting his eyes, Owen, a few feet away sound asleep.

He looked back at Jason, now staring intently at his cards, “Hell Jason,” Clark started, “Don’t you have work back at the station? Paperwork? Something? It’s been a hell of a day.”

“Well Clark,” started Jason, still focused on his cards, his eyes darting back and forth from his hand to the river on the table. “That’s just what I’m trying to avoid, as soon as someone from Sanders Corp finds out about this whole mess that’s when my day goes from bad to even shittier,”

Clark’s brow scowled at the very mention of Sanders Corp. He could hear their typed and recited motto echoing inside of his head at the sound of their name.

“Sanders Corp, an agency of Sanders Travel and Tourism Inc. Created to protect the assets and interests of the company as well as handle and maintain relations with local populations.”

Everyone in town had heard the script, had seen what they did, whether the company was taking part of someone’s land deemed “unsafe” or were driving away business from the locals and directing guests to a more “efficiently equipped” establishment.

Everyone in town hated them but couldn’t afford to say a word. Being blacklisted by Sanders Corp. was the end. Someone might as well begin packing their bags then and there, cause there wasn’t anything left for them in this town after that.

“Sure is quite the shit show. Two kids missing, one dead, the other all kinds of banged up. Yeah, they’ll find me. They’ll show up going on about what statement we’ll make tomorrow.” Jason continued still not looking up from his hand. “Besides, I need to make sure my Deputy is recovering ok.”

He looked back at Jason, “The hell for?” he asked, a grin cracking on his face, “The doctor told us more than an hour ago, he’ll be fine to leave tomorrow, his leg is all stitched up and disinfected” he continued, still looking at Jason.

Jason stared, now intently at his chips, carefully and meticulously picking up a few from each stack as he replied, “Well, we can never be……too……careful” he continued, slowly. His gaze unbroken from his chips, he looked up and through his chips in quickly, “Raise you 10 Clark,” his tone immediately changing, his focus on nothing but the game.

Clark stared back, “So you’re telling me, you’re using Dane’s tore up leg as an excuse to get you out of some paperwork?”

“Well to tell you the truth,” said Jason, looking up, “That’s about more use than he’s ever been to me before.”

The room sat silent, Jason and Clark’s gazes fixed on each other, the air thick with the chest crushing pressure of the tension.

Without warning both men burst out into laughter, hysterical laughter. Near tears coming from their eyes, gasping for air and trying to speak between each burst of laughter.

Nate sat in the corner, still unmoving, drifting in an uneasy sleep.

Slowly, Clark and Jason began to regain their composure, sucking in desperate gasps of air as their thunderous laughter gradually reduced itself to a quiet snicker, and once again, silence. The distance between these two men, though in reality, only a few feet, now seemed to be greater than the darkest reaches of space.

The silence, almost suffocating, prevented either man from speaking, it seemed as if the stillness had sealed their lips, forbidding them from breaking it. The history these men shared, the distance it caused and held between them, in this moment, neither man could break free from it nor could they see it being broken. They sat in this uncomfortable muteness simply staring away, their gazes fixed on the floor. Could the past ever really be forgotten?

“Full house,” Clark said, breaking the silence and slapping his cards down on the table, “I need some air” he said sitting up patting his jacket searching for his cigarettes, Clark pushed his chair away from the table, the shrill screech of the chair leg on the concrete floor shattered the all encompassing silence, even stirring Nate from his hazy trance.

“Clark,” Jason started, but Clark didn’t hear, he was already outside. The sharp slam of the heavy oak door drenched the room once again in complete silence.

Chapter 17

The creature stood, hunched, well behind the tree line. Its dark, piercing eyes, stared upward, it had followed its trail, it was in there, it knew it.

Its head darted back and forth scanning the structure for a way in, the lights keeping the beast well back in its comfort in the dark abyss of the forest. Though it could no longer smell its prey it had tracked here, it knew it still lay inside. It could sense its prey’s heartbeat even, it stood, raising itself up on its hind legs, it savored each consistent beat, pining for the moment it would send the consistent pattering it listened to now, spiraling into a chaotic arrhythmic noise.

The beast scanned, its hideous snout misting clouds of thick steam into the cold night. Its rotting teeth drenched in a ravenous saliva dripped from the edges of its mouth.

Another one of them sat outside the structure, smoking. The beast couldn’t see this no, but it didn’t have too, the toxic smell of tar filled its nostrils, even from this distance.

The creature turned, continuing further along the tree line, scanning the building for a way in, an approach, the moment to strike. It’s massive paw-like feet imprinting deep inside the freshly fallen snow, each step sinking halfway up its long, powerful legs.

The beast could feel it, could sense it, it was getting closer to its prey. Scanning the windows, the glint of the fresh falling snow, shone off the blackness of each window. Some windows lit, others not.

Late enough in the evening, that others had retired to their warm bed, seeking refuge from the harsh elements that they now sat just feet from asleep in their ocean of warm unconsciousness. Late enough that there were none outside, except one, one still sat, the smoke filling the lung jarring cold.

It sat hunched, snarling, staring, the windows thin, vulnerable. Its only hinderance now being these incessant lights.

It didn’t fear the brightness, no, the beast was undeterred by such weak power.

The thrill of the hunt was what drove the creature forward.

Thinking, knowing almost, if something saw it, if it was seen even a second before it attacked, if something knew of it, knowing it did in fact exist in these deep woods and not just as a figment that rested deep inside the dark recesses of it’s prey’s mind, in its worst nightmares and fears, this mighty power the creature held could be weakened, all the pleasure it took in the fear of its prey, their descent into madness.

The beast snarled and began to turn around, it could wait, but just as it began to slink behind the tree line once again, the lights shut off. An audible click sound could be heard as the large floodlights ceased the projection of their beacon of light they had previously put forth.

The only sound that could be heard now was the sound of the falling snowflakes sizzling on the hot lights as they fell.

The beast turned, its muscles tensing, every ligament and muscle twitching, it snarled, and began its approach. It was coming for its prey.

Chapter 18

Ashley Clawson lay soundly asleep in her luxurious bed, its warmth cocooning her in a vast sea of comfort and safety. Protecting her from the harsh frost just outside her window, snowflakes swirled through the cold air with a comfortable aimlessness guided by the breeze that wafted throughout the snowy hills.

Roy lay beside her, his arm draped over her thin, fit figure. She lay, covered only by her wispy nightgown, her arms hanging over the thick flannel quilt, a handful of fabric gripped softly in each of her effeminate hands. The moonlight shining through the blinds glistened off the fine milk colored fabric of her gown. The blinds divided the light into rows of gleaming white projecting an eerie glow onto the bed.

The beast, well below, looked up the towering wooden walls of the Paradise Hotel. It was growing closer to its prey. Circling the floor level window, it leapt, using its mighty legs, propelling itself just above the 1st floor window, its long powerful claws dug deeply into the thick red cedar. Large shavings of the timber curled outward from underneath the beasts claws and fell down softly to the forest floor below as it climbed.

No guests of the hotel stirred, this early in the season there were, barely, if any guests staying on the lower level. Whatever guests were lodging at the resort this early were spread out considerably, usually not within 2 or 3 suites of each other.

The beast continued to climb, its muscles tensing and its fur standing straight up, it could smell its prey, could feel it, It was near, and the beast would now have it.

Reaching the window, the beast hung to the side, its claws still embedded deeply in the wood. It peered through the frost covered window, its heavy breaths fogging the glass. Pulling one paw out of the splintered wood, slowly, meticulously, it ran its claws softly over the pane of glass, producing a shrill screech.

Ashely awoke nervously, a cold bead of sweat tickling her back as it ran down. She had heard it, the scratching. She waited, listening carefully, her ears trained on the window to the back of her, not turning around, not wanting to stir Roy. She heard it again, the ear piercing screech.

Normally, one may chalk this sort of noise up to a stray tree branch brushing against the window in the wind. But she knew, this room she now resided in was nowhere near any trees, unlike the room upstairs that she had shared with Nate. She heard it again, it seemed to be growing louder, more menacing, more.…deliberate. A deep wave of panic washed over her, covering her smooth, fair complexion in prickly goosebumps that rose with her state of fear as it grew.

The beast drew in deep breaths of the cold mountain air through its nostrils, the sinister pleasure it gained from the fear of its prey filling the beast with energy and power, its hair standing up on end. Chills of ecstasy running over its massive form.

Ashley had heard enough, “Roy,” she started, jostling him softly with one of her hands.

“There’s something-“ Before she could finish, the thunderous noise of shattering glass filled the room. She whipped around quickly just catching a glimpse of it as Roy sat up quickly in the bed.

A hideous wild doglike creature now crept towards them, foam dripping from its razor like teeth as it growled. Roy’s sleep filled voice quickly escalated into a shriek. “What in the hell?!” “Holy Sh-“

The beast leapt high over him tackling Ashley off the bed, crashing to the ground. It’s heavy paws, pressed tightly against Ashley’s shoulders pinning her to the ground, the beast leaned in close, its foul breath bringing vomit to Ashley’s lips.  Choking it back, she shrieked in terror.

The creature drew in a deep breath through its nostrils, something was different, something about the scent. The beast growled deeper, staring into her eyes, its mouth opened revealing rows of jagged rotting teeth. Foam and drool dripped from its fangs covering Ashley in the foul liquid. It moved in closer, Ashley screamed as it moved towards her throat, mouth agape.

Roy, darted back quickly, he grabbed the first thing off his nearby nightstand that he could see in the darkness. His letter opener, an antique he had carried for many years. He reared up, yelling loudly he plunged the sharp end as deeply as he could into the creatures back near its shoulder,  the beast let out a roar turning around quickly, ripping the knife from Roy’s hand.

Shaking with fear, Roy now faced the beast. Steam rose from its snout, he trembled with terror, paralyzed with fear.

With one powerful swipe of its arm the beast struck Roy sharply, the force sent him flying backwards into the wall, nearly out of the shattered window. Roy let out a pained yelp, his breath leaving him as he struck the wall. He crumpled in a heap on the floor among the shards of glass and the wisps of snow that now blew in through the gaping window frame.

The beast turned back sharply to finish its prey, but it was gone. It’s ghastly head whipped back and forth, stench filling its nose, it looked up.

Ashley, through panicked gulps of air ripped open the bathroom door running frantically towards the window inside. The beast leapt forward, right at her heels, its massive shoulders crashing into the door frame, stopping it, restraining the beast. It roared and growled clawing at the air trying to reach its prey.

Ashley had reached the window, her shaking hands unlatched the window and pulled it up quickly. The frozen frame squeaked as the window struggled upward. Screaming, she tore through the screen. Her hand snapped the mesh out of its frame, sending it spiraling downward to the icy ground below.

The noise had stopped. Breathing heavily, she looked back. The creature was nowhere in sight. Cautiously she looked around, panicked breaths of relief escaped her lungs. Suddenly, the beast came crashing completely through the wall, entering the bathroom. Snarling, it fought the pipes and wires that held it back, tearing at them. Splinters of wood and shreds of drywall pelted Ashley as she screamed, she quickly turned around climbing through the window frantically.

Shredded wires and broken pipes hung from the destroyed wall spraying water haphazardly in every direction. Ashley pulled herself forward, further out the window her legs kicked in the air as she leaned forward. The balcony of the room below sat covered in snow 10 feet below. The ground stared back at her, far below. She panicked, hesitating for a moment. Pulling herself through, she held tight to the wall. Something burned deep in her leg, cutting her. She cried out in pain, screaming as she felt the creature dig deeply into her leg, she let out a scream and lost her grip. Narrowly missing the cold metal of the railing below, she fell. Swirling down through the snow and mist she fell, tumbling downward to the snow covered ground.

The beast advanced further, closer to the window, chasing its prey. A sudden pounding at the door captured its attention, snapping its head back to the room. Snarling, it bared its teeth creeping forward into the room. The wooden door to the room pounded, voices shouted just outside. Angry, the thing let out a loud roar. Its muscles tensed as it bounded back through the room leaping from the gaping hole back into the snowy night, the lights of the structure illuminated once again, the building alive with activity. It bounded forward as it hit the ground disappearing back into the darkness of the forest.

Chapter 19

Jason sat, draped in the silence of the hospital. His cards still clenched in his hand. Lost in thought he slowly drifted away.

It had been cold that morning, colder than usual, the normally constant breeze of the hills had ceased. The cold air of the base of the mountain now sat, freezing the town even more than usual on this morning.

He turned to his passenger seat, Dane sat, staring at Clark’s house, “What the hell do we need to wait for sheriff?” he asked turning back to Jason.

For the fourth time he looked at Dane, “Because Black, for the last fucking time, without Child Protective Services here to witness the conditions, we can’t legally take her without going through the courts ourselves, any more brain busters you got for me?” he shot back, annoyed.

Dane huffed and turned back to the house.

Jason hadn’t wanted this, for the longest time, foolishly, he had hoped Clark would pull himself out of this. Long ago, they had been friends. Or had they? Time distorted and warped his own memories. Searching, racking his mind he tried to remember, the times they’d had, so many years ago.

He closed his eyes, almost smiling as he remembered, leaving for a moment, this cruel reality he found himself shivering within. He remembered.

How they would frequent the diner with their wives, Clark and Cass, and him and Sandra, they’d sit for hours, talking, laughing, sipping on Heather’s famous coffee. Complaining about the cold or their plans for the deer hunt that year. Jason smiled sadly to himself. It seemed like ancient history now, almost seemed like those days had never happened in the first place had been only a figment of his imagination.

“Look alive, here they come.” Dane said, a grin showing on his face, his voice jolted Jason out of his daydream.

Jason looked down the asphalt road, wisps of thin snow swirling through the air. Two trucks now drove down the street towards them.

Jason sat up, letting out a exhaling deeply, he reluctantly unbuckled his seatbelt and sat up opening the door, he turned to his side.

“Alright Black, let’s-“ The slam of the passenger door cut Jason off, Dane was far ahead of him.

Jason sighed and climbed out of his jeep, the soft crunch of the icy snow under his boots audible in the suffocating silence they stood in outside of Clark’s home. The two trucks pulled up, a large visible CPS logo born on the side of one of the vehicles.

“Shit,” Jason muttered to himself, “What the hell did I tell you? No uniforms, no signs, nothing. Clark isn’t stable, he could be watching us right now, you dumb sons of bitches!” he hissed through as quiet of a whisper as he could force himself, at the two CPS agents that now stood in front of him.

“God dammit” he whispered to himself “Now we have to do this the other way, Black!”

Dane turned, “Yeah?”

Jason walked to the back of the jeep, “Kevlar, now.” He popped open the back window of the Jeep’s shell snow sliding off the sides as he lifted it. Reaching inside, he grabbed the vests, tossing one to Dane.

“God Dammit Clark, why does it have to be like this?” he thought to himself. He finished strapping on his vest and drew his pistol out of its holster, sighing to himself, shaking his head.

“Alright! Let’s go.”

It all seemed like a blur after that, they knocked, no answer from Clark, as was expected.  Next came the battering ram, the door broke off clean. Its old rusty hinges popping free from their mount, the door flew inward.

“Alright!” Jason yelled, “Clear every room!”

The men filed through the door, searching, but it didn’t take long, they found Clark almost immediately. Sprawled out, laying limply in his bed. His eyes were glazed over and a belt hung loosely from his arm, a tin box full of needles and cotton spilled across the floor. Jason’s heart sunk as he saw him, he immediately feared the worst.

“Oh God. Medic!” he shouted back through the doorway.

James emerged through the door, he was so young then, still just a paramedic. He rushed to Clark’s limp body, checking his pulse.

“Is he?” Jason began.

James quickly cut him off, “No, he’s not, but we need to get him to the hospital, immediately.”

Dane immediately cut in to protest, his arms folded tightly, leaning against the door frame, “I say we leave this piece of shit here. He’s had his chance, we go pull him back from the grave we’ll be back here in a month with this same shit.”

Jason turned to Dane, “Dane how about you shut the fuck up?” the words coldly spit from his lips, he turned back to James, “Alright, get him out of here. I want him sobered up and handcuffed to the bed, we’ll book him when he’s back out of it.” he handed James his pair of handcuffs and stood back up.

James left quickly to retrieve the stretcher from the ambulance, just as he had left,

Kevin Flaherty, an older veteran on the force, entered. “Sheriff, we found the girl.”

Jason’s heart sunk in his chest, he stared off into the distance, standing up, he followed.

Flaherty led him to a small cupboard in the kitchen just below the sink, Jason kneeled, looking inside, there in the darkness sat a huddled little girl shivering, dirt and grime covering her face.

Jason, held back tears, extending his hand, “My name is Sheriff Arndt, and your name is Lizzie right?”

The little girl still sat in the cupboard, shaking. Her eyes stared off into the distance blankly, tired.

“We’re here to take you somewhere safe ok?, You’re daddy was sick so we took him to the doctor. You can come with me,” Jason paused, his voice shaking, regaining control of himself, he continued.

“You’ll be safe, alright?” Jason said softly. Extending his hand, he reached towards her through the darkness of the cupboard.

Lizzie looked up, her sad eyes staring at Jason, she gave a soft nod of acknowledgement and climbed out of the cupboard.

Now out of the darkness, the officers could now see how bad she really looked. Her tiny innocent face obscured by dirt and grime was shrunken back. Her small cheekbones showed prominently, her small, ratty clothes hung limply on her thin skeletal frame. She shook violently with each step forward, both shivering and starving.

Jason could take no more, his eyed welled up with tears, all he managed to choke out was, “Oh god,”

One of the two CPS agents quickly stepped in, scooping Lizzie from the floor, holding her tiny frame close. “Tell that doctor of yours to wait,” the agent shouted at Jason, “We need to get this girl on an IV immediately!” he jogged out the door. Holding the girl close he shouted to James.

Clark came back, returned to his cold reality, his consciousness he resented. He was fully alert a couple days after that. He snapped out of his haze in the jail cell, yelling curses at the top of his lungs tearing up the mattress and destroying anything he could, it took 3 officers and a black eye from Dane to get him to stop.

When he was finally released, Lizzie was long gone. Carted off to a foster home in some neighboring state. Her location kept so confidential that only Jason was allowed to know. Even he was still required to be shown her case in a locked room guarded by two CPS agents.

He signed all the paperwork and they took her away. Crying for her Daddy, some of the color returning to her face as she screamed. That was the last any of them saw of the little girl.

It didn’t take Clark very long to retaliate, he appeared in the station the next day, catching Jason off guard. How he got past the other officers, no one could figure out. But he was there. Waiting in Jason’s office,

“You Motherfucker!” was all Jason heard before Clark’s clenched fist cracked into the back of his head, knocking him out cold.

He was lucky that the officers had heard the noise out in the hall or Clark may have killed him right then and there.

Clark spent 6 months in jail for that little stunt, only because Jason wouldn’t press charges himself, he got out and spent the rest of the year on house arrest.

So many chances. So many chances he had given his old friend and it had always come back to bite him on the ass. Was he doing it again? Foolishly giving his old friend another chance? Or was this finally his friend he had once known returning from the darkness?

Jason threw down his cards and went to the counter to grab the bottle of whisky that now sat there. Twisting off the cap he tilted the bottle back and took a large swig. He just didn’t know anymore.

“Jason” the radio started up, causing him to jump. Whiskey spilled over his lips and onto his shirt. “Jason come in over”

Jason grimaced, sighing to himself as he swallowed another gulp of whiskey.

“Yeah?” he said to the radio, holding it close to his mouth. His breath wafted out the scent of the liquor on his lips.

“We’ve uh, we’ve had an incident up here at the Paradise, a couple injuries, one of them we identified as Ashley Clawson, a guest up here.”

Nate’s ear’s perked up as he shot up from his chair. “Sheriff, that’s my wife!” he shouted.

The radio continued,  “Ain’t that boy you got down there in the hospital named Clawson too?”

Jason looked at Nate and turned back to the radio, “Sure is, and I’ve got his father down here; Nate Clawson. We’re on our way up, over and out”

He clipped the radio back on his belt and gestured to Nate as he threw on his coat, “Let’s go.”

Chapter 20

Ashley woke up on one of the leather sofas in the hotel’s lobby, an icepack held to her head tightly its cold numbing the pain of the bruise that throbbed. Someone stood over her, waving a flashlight over her eyes.

“Ma’am?”

She squinted hard, the light blinding her. All at once she felt the pain, her muscles hung limp and heavy, covered in bruises. She felt as if she had been hit by a train. Struggling, she tried to make sense of all of it.

Any attempt to remember what had happened was met with a blankness more blinding than the light shining in her eyes.

“Ma’am.” again the voice continued.

Her eyes began to adjust to the light. Squinting, she started to make some of it out. Standing above her were two or three hotel employees, their sleeves rolled up, faces hung with concern.

“Ye……Yes?” She mumbled out. Racking her racing brain, she tried desperately to remember.

The shorter of the 2 spoke up first, “Ma’am there was an accident, you fell from your window.”

Her eyes were distorted with confusion, almost asking herself, she continued. “Can you tell us what happened?”

Confused, Ashley stared back, “Happened?” “I fell from my window?” She was in a hotel, an inkling of organized thought began to creep back into her mind. “From my room?” She asked cautiously.

“Yes ma’am,” the worker continued. “From the third story. You’re lucky to be alive. Now can you tell us what happened?” “The room is destroyed, did you break the window with something?” She was interrupted by her co-worker.

“Sheila, you honestly think she could have done that to her room? You saw it up there, what the hell could have done that?”

Sheila snapped back, “Eli, I am just trying to keep her calm, you don’t need to yell at me.” Her tone timid, almost frightened.

Before Eli could respond, Ashley sat up on the couch, she gripped her head, she clutched at the bandage that held the ice to her head. The pain was blinding, she held her eyes shut tightly, trying not to pass out. “What, What happened to my room?”

It all came flooding back into her mind almost all at once. The creature, its hideous face, those teeth. Her mind raced, she clutched at her temples with both hands, bracing her mind as the night came back to her consciousness.

“Ma’am please, try to remain calm.” Sheila’s voice echoed softly outside Ashley’s mind, her mind soaring to intensely to respond.

She snapped.

“Oh my god!” Ashley grasped Sheila’s uniform tightly, the polyester jacket held tightly in her balled fists. Curling into her hands, she could just make out the word “Paradise” embroidered into the fabric.

“The, the thing!” she stammered out, her panicked voice echoing throughout the lobby. Guests peered into the lobby from the bar, confused at the commotion.

“Wait!, R-, Roy!” “Where is Roy?!” She frantically asked.

“Sheriff!” she heard someone call out, interrupting her, she looked up to the sliding doors of the lobby. From the snow that now fell softly outside, rushed a man, a policeman. Cutting through the other policemen that surrounded the door, he jogged towards her. Following close behind him was…Nate?

“Oh my god” she muttered to herself. “Nathan.”

“Ashley!” he heard his familiar voice call out.

“That’s her sheriff,” Nate said, he pointed to Ashley, sitting on the couch, her wet hair and panicked expression she wore on her face were all that showed through the thick quilt that wrapped tightly around her. She shivered profusely. Her frightened demeanor and soft shaking evoked a slight pity from within Nate. He sighed, gesturing to her. “That’s my wife.”

“Excuse me,” Jason said, pushing through Sheila and Eli.

“Mrs. Clawson, My name is Sheriff Arndt,” Extending his hand to Ashley, Jason continued. “Could you answer some questions for me? We can speak privately if you would like.”

Jason yelled back to the officers in the lobby without turning around, “Is she in the condition to be moved?”

Cal Macklin, a young, stocky man, Jason’s newest deputy, strolled toward Jason, his hands on his belt. “Yeah, we had a medic check her out, nothings broken, no signs of internal bleeding or concussion. She’s got all that snow we got today to thank for that, damn lucky I’d say.”

“Thank you Cal,” Jason said.

He turned back to Ashley, “Please come with me.” he helped her up, the quilt fell to her sides, a torn up nightgown hung around her.

Taking Jason’s hand, Ashley followed, limping slightly.

Jason led them into a nearby conference room and pulled up a chair. “Macklin!” he called out, “I want you in here, Dane’s still in the hospital,” letting Nate in as Cal approached.

Jason turned to Ashley who now sat sprawled out at the long wooden conference table, her hands held the arm rests of the old chair tightly. Her nails, painted with faded and chipped polish dug deeply into the chair as she sat. She shook, her eyes red with frightened tears.

The heavy oak door swung shut behind them, leaving them in silence.

“Mrs. Clawson.” Jason started,

Nate grimaced at the very thought of this wench sharing his name, “One more thing she can take from me.” he thought.

Jason continued. “Can you tell me what happened?” “I only got a few things from my officers, all we have to go on is a possible break in.” Jason sat down at a chair adjacent to Ashley, “How did you fall from your window?, Were you attacked?”

Ashley stared into the distance, the warmth of this room shielded her from the constant chill of the lobby, she absorbed the warmth, her body occasionally shaking from the infrequent shivers that pulsed through her. She drifted in a foggy haze of cautious security.

Jason, as even tempered as he was, was beginning to lose his patience.

“Mrs. Clawson. I need you to tell me what happened. I need to know if the other guests at this hotel are safe, now, were you attacked by someone?”

Finally, she spoke, “Not someone, some…..thing.” her tepid voice squeaked, almost in a monotone. her eyes staring blankly off in the distance. “An animal, some creature, it smashed through the window and it attacked me and Ro-“ She stopped dead in her tracks, her eyes shot up to Nate, his eyes already filling with rage.

“Roy?!” Nate yelled, “Fucking Roy?!”

Jason turned, shocked by the sudden uproar. “Nate!, Get yourself under control!”

Nate continued screaming, his fists clenched tightly, his finger pointing towards Ashley in a stiff utterance of condemnation, “Here’s the end of your fucking “case” Ash!, I’ve got two witnesses right here! The hotel registry too no doubt! Maids! The staff! You’re fucked!”

Jason stood up, staring menacingly at Nate, “Macklin! Get him out of here!”

Nate fought forward, screaming at Ashley, he clawed at the air as Cal pulled him out of the room. “I beat you, you bitch!” “I finally beat you!” his voice soaked in a raw anger.

The door swung shut once again, leaving Jason and Ashley alone. He sat down once again and turned to her, “Now, who the hell is Roy? What was that about?”

Ashley looked at Jason, defeated. “My attorney,” she said looking away, ashamed. “He was, staying in my room.”

Jason, sat back, he understood. Nate’s outburst wasn’t as unwarranted as he had thought.

“Well,” Jason continued, “That is irrelevant to my investigation here.” he tried to change the subject. “Now you said an animal attacked you? What do you think it was?”

“Not an animal. Or maybe it was.” her weak voice quivered, “God, I..I don’t know,” “Something I have never seen before, it wasn’t like anything I have ever seen.”

The door swung open once again, stealing their attention, Jason looked up, his face stretched back with aggression.

Deputy Macklin had entered once again, locking the door behind him.

Jason sighed to himself, turning his attention back to Ashley.

“Alright Ma’am, er..Ashley was it?” Jason asked, pulling a notebook from his pocket. He hastily jotted down a few notes and looked back up.

Ashley gave a faint nod of recognition, her stare once again on the floor.

Jason’s tone changed, growing annoyed, “Ashley, No animal in these woods can break through 2 inch insulated glass. Each of the windows on this place is acrylic coated to keep out the cold,” “Hell my sidearm probably couldn’t break it at first go. Your husband isn’t here now. So, I need you to stop lying to me, and tell me what you know about happened here tonight.”

“I’m not lying! Alright asshole?!” Ashley shot back, she had reached her breaking point, she sobbed loudly into her hands, her voice whimpering she continued, “Something broke into my room and attacked me and Roy, it smashed straight through the walls and tore up the room!” “Are you happy now?!” her voice shrieked into hysterics.

“Where is Roy!? Let me see him! I’ve told you everything that happened!” She continued screaming.

Jason, scribbled down his notes hastily through the chaos, his face bored, annoyed almost.

Ashley continued, “It chased me, I tried to climb out the window and my le-“ she stopped, she had forgotten about her leg.

She pulled her torn up nightgown above her knee scanning her leg where she had felt the creature’s monstrous claw dig into her.

“It, It scratched me, but there’s no mark, I felt it!” her voice cracked, panic and confusion engulfed her. “I felt it! It was right here!” It still stings, I can feel it! She ran her hands through her thick knotted hair, trying to make sense of it all. Her voice cracked, weakening to a quiet whimper.

Jason set his notes down on the scratched polish of the old oak table, he slowly outstretched his arms to calm this woman that now sat in front of him, when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned to see Cal stooping to whisper into his ear.

“Sheriff, this is going to sound crazy, but I’ve seen that room, this woman is hysterical no doubt, but, I have no fucking idea what in all of creation could have done that to that room, she may be telling some truth. As for the attorney, we found him in the room all sorts of banged up, he’s already being driven to the hospital in one of the ski patrol’s vans. I’ll let you know when he’s ready for questioning, but Sheriff,” his voice slowed, thinking to himself, “I think you’ll need to see the room for yourself.”

Jason sat back a moment, pondering this new information. His mind worked quietly. Something was wrong. There was something else to this and his mind itched at him for more.

Macklin, though new and young, was not one for nonsense. He was always composed and had a serious, by the book demeanor about him and it was for this reason that Jason had promoted him over Dane. Cal was wise beyond his years, and Jason needed someone like that in this town on his side.

He leaned forward, gently holding Ashley’s shoulders, soothing her, she violently shook, her panicked breaths sucking in air anxiously.

“Listen, Ashley, I’m done with my questions, alright?” his voice calmed, his words slowly left his mouth, almost whispering.

“This is Deputy Macklin, he’s just informed me that this Roy man you were staying with has been taken down the hospital. He’s going to be just fine alright? He’s going to drive you down there right now and they’re going to take care of you ok? I’ll talk to you in the morning when you’ve had a chance to calm down.”

Jason stood from his chair to help Ashley up, Cal covered her shaking shoulders in his confident hands guiding her outside through the door.

Jason sighed and swept his notes from the table, folding them up, he stood in silence, his eyes examining the cracked finish of the table, his fingers tracing it as he thought, taking a moment to determine his next move. Dirt stuck underneath his fingernails as he scratched at the  fine polish of the table.

Normally, with Sanders Corp, he had no reason to pursue a case, to persist and want more. He’d just wait for them to take over, wait for them to tell him what to do, and to sign his check. Allow he and his family to get by for a few more weeks. But something was amiss here, something that couldn’t be covered up, something he needed to know.

He heard a commotion outside as he walked towards the door. Confused, he reached for the handle. He jumped as the door burst open just as he reached it. Two Sanders Corp agents entered, he could see out in the lobby as the door swung shut, that Sanders Agents now swarmed the lobby, interrogating his officers. Some carried cones and tape, sectioning off the halls and bar.

Quickly he tried to stuff his notebook into his coat, he jumped back as one of the agents snatched it from his hand and stuffed it into an evidence bag that one of them held tightly in their hand.

“You are Sheriff Jason Arndt of Whiteridge correct?” one of them asked, a tall intimidating man he didn’t recognize. His beady eyes stared at him with an overpowering attitude of superiority, his thinning black hair gelled over into a greasy combover.

Jason stared up at him, one of the few men that he ever had to look up at. “I am.” Jason said coldly, his voice firm.

“We are affiliates of The Al Sanders Corporation, we understand that there was a break in on company property today, we are immediately taking over the investigation and seizing all evidence from local law enforcement as we head up this case, Please turn over any and all police documents or evidence pertaining to this matter.” His voice arrogant and condescending, almost as if he read his words from an unseen script. As if he possessed no means of original thought on his own. His hand outstretched, he looked into Jason’s eyes arrogantly, a narcissistic grin born on his face.

Jason looked back, his tone unbroken, “Fuck. You.”

The man stooped lower to Jason’s level looking right in his eyes, “Winter is tough here Arndt, can your little family really go without a paycheck?”

Jason backed off, his pride wasn’t worth more than his family, he couldn’t do that to Sandy.

“You already took my notebook, that’s all I had, I just arrived on the scene.” Jason said back, his voice noticeably cracking.

The greasy haired man smirked and stood back up. He turned to the other agent who stood silently, “Pat him down.”

The man threw Jason against the wall, spreading his arms and legs as he searched, “He’s clean,” the stockier man said to grease hair.

“Alright, Arndt” said Grease hair, producing a stained handkerchief from his jacket he wiped his hands. “You are to vacate the premises immediately, your other officers will follow shortly, on the conclusion of our questioning.”

Jason walked silently out of the room, he walked up to Macklin, who now stood in the lobby, an annoyed look worn on his face.

“Macklin, listen closely,” Jason whispered between his teeth, “Do we have photos of the crime scene?”

Cal whispered back, his eyes darting around the room, “We had Ray go up their to take some but I don’t know his status, your not thinking about-“ Asked Cal.

“Don’t fucking start with me Macklin, something doesn’t add up here. They’ve never been this aggressive, something serious is up.” Jason’s voice hissed through his clenched teeth.

Jason gestured to Cal’s chest, “Give me your radio, Now!” he said quietly, eyeing the Sanders Agents carefully.

Chapter 21

Ray Alberts stood hunched over the shattered glass of room 304, he shivered as he brushed the snow from his lens. Focusing the shattered window into frame, snow swirled into the room piling up on the now ruined carpet, freezing to it. The heat radiating from his eyes fogged his thick lenses.

Annoyed, he hurriedly photographed the rest of the room, or what was left of it, the window, the torn up bed, the bathroom, the marks on the walls. He didn’t know what had done this, nor did he want to know, just more questions for him to have to answer.

He wanted to get out of this room as soon as he could and quit freezing his ass off.

“What was the point of him working if Sanders Corp was going to take it all anyway?” he thought to himself as he snapped another photo, the flash illuminating the decimated room.

His radio buzzed with the sheriff’s voice, “Ray, listen to me, do not respond. If you are still in that room, get out of there with what you can. I want those photos on my desk, I do not want them in the hands of Sanders Corp, get the hell out of there, they’re on their way up, this is an order!” Jason’s voice hissed through the radio.

Ray stopped, nearly dropping his camera, he stared off into this distance, confused. Jason had always been the one to shut down any gripes from anyone about Sanders Corp, the first to remind everyone that they were the ones who signed the checks.

Something was wrong. Ray stood up, hastily, he gathered his gear, he could already hear voices faintly down the hallway.

He stopped at the door, clutching his gear, tightly, his chest pounding, “I can’t do this,” He dropped to one knee, starting to put the gear down, the footsteps were growing louder, Ray looked back at his radio, he didn’t know what would be worse, pissing off the Sanders people or getting chewed out by Jason and probably losing his job with the station.”

The footsteps were close now.

“Sanders, definitely Sanders.” Ray said to himself. Panic washing over him, he stood turning around waiting for the door to open, but the footsteps simply passed by. Ray looked back at his gear and the room, thinking to himself.

“Dammit.”

He quickly scooped his gear into his hands clenching it tightly.

Slowly, he twisted the knob and shut the door quietly behind him, broken glass and splintered wood crunched beneath his feet. He swung the door shut, locking it from the inside as he shut it, and turned down the hallway, his eyes ever darting behind him as he walked, he held his gear tightly in front of him, down the wide hallway he walked as fast as he could allow himself without looking suspicious.

Rounding the corner at the end of the hall, his heart slowed back down from its speeding pace, still, he didn’t waste time. He approached the stairwell cautiously, monitoring the elevator with an unfaltering stare as he passed it. As he entered the stairwell door, his sigh of relief was cut back into a panicked choke. He heard footsteps below him, and close.

His heart racing, he popped open the back of the camera tearing out a length of film. Hastily, he stuffed it into his coat pocket, the fluorescent lights scorching relentlessly on the undeveloped film.

Fumbling, his fingers clumsily zipped his coat back up, just as the stairwell door burst open. A panicked yelp escaped his lips as two tourists emerged. Staring at him confused, they continued down the hall.

Half laughing, half cursing himself out, he reached forward to grab the door once more, just as the elevators melodic tone rang out, echoing through the sprawling hallways.

“You! Stop!” A group of agents emerged, followed, curiously, by another police officer, Ray knew who he was, but had never spoken to him before now.

“Billings? You’re, You’re with the Sanders Corporation?” Ray asked, his timid voice stammering, confused.

Gary Billings smirked viciously at Ray, his intimidating, bulky figure towering over him.

“A lot of us on the force are, you can’t expect us to live on that shit pay forever Alberts, ‘cept maybe a queerboy virgin like yourself. How much does Jason pay you anyway to snap those little photos for him?” he coughed out through a half laugh, laced with the dry phlegm of his tar ridden lungs.

The agents grabbed him from both sides, stripping his gear from his hands, stuffing the equipment into black bags, cinching them shut. Briskly, they patted him down.

Hand resting on his gun, strapped loosely in its holster, Gary smiled coyly at Ray, “Best be wise and keep your mouth shut Alberts, wouldn’t want to turn up missin’ like some shit-brained tourist.” Smiling, he turned around following the agents down the hallway towards the room. Leaving as quickly as they had come.

Trembling violently, Ray didn’t waste time, ripping the door open frantically, he ran down the stairs, his hand clutching the pocket in his coat that held the film. He reached towards his radio, but stopped, something was seriously amiss with this, and he didn’t know who he could trust.

Chapter 22

Clark’s hand trembled, the bottle held tightly in his hands shook, its seal unbroken. “It’s not worth it, God dammit, it’s not worth it.” His hand shook more violently, the bottle fell from his hand bouncing harmlessly off of the stained shag carpet of his cabin.

His lip quivered, he ran his rough hands through his thick, matted hair, his thoughts racing. Hands shaking, they finally came to rest on his eyes, his palms absorbing the bitter tears that now streamed forth.

“Fuck.” his voice cracked as he sobbed.

Jason’s words ran over and over again in his head, “See your daughter again,” his head throbbed, begging to be numbed by the liquor that now rested on the floor.

“I don’t deserve it, I don’t deserve her, fucking god dammit” his voice a faint wail, his eyes shot up quickly, making sure. It was; his door was locked.

He turned back, resting his head in his hands.

“Baby you can do it, you can get up” his voice pleaded, his coarse hands traced the line of his wife’s soft face, her jawline especially prominent. She had lost so much weight.

“Cass, please, I know you can do this, you’ll feel better if you come eat, please come eat baby,” his voice cracking, he kept his voice as low as he could, Lizzie lay asleep quietly in her crib adjacent to the bed.

“Clark” her weakened voice exhaling, “I know what I have,” she paused, her strength weakening. “For what time we have left, please just lay here with me, that’s all I want.” salty tears staining her beautiful face.

“Ok baby, Ok.” Clark lay down next to his wife, tenderly holding her in his arms. His heart sinking as he held her. She was so weak, so fragile, her thin skeletal frame he feared he would crush as he held her.”

Slowly, she lifted his arm to her lips, she laughed, her laugh turning quickly into a violent cough. “You’re warm” she said, smiling, her voice dry and tired. Tenderly, she kissed his arm, holding it tight. “Remember when we painted this room?” Her sunken eyes scanned the room, thinking of the memories she so deeply cherished now.

Clark held back tears, his arms around his wife, he held her so deeply, wanting to embrace her so tightly he would never lose her. “Remember?” he let out a soft chuckle, “Hell, we were sleeping in the kitchen for a straight 2 weeks til you got the color right,” His mouth smiling sadly, warm tears welled up behind his eyes.

Cass laughed to herself, “Excuse me? I remember you having a problem with every color I put up in here. How did you put it? Too feminine?” She laughed weakly, holding Clark’s strong arm closely to her. “There must be a good inch of paint on these walls from that.” she smiled, burying her face into his warm arms, his soft flannel shirt gently brushing her cheek.

And for a moment, everything was forgotten, it all became so simple. The two of them lay silently in happy remembrance, the stillness of the room blanketing them in its warmth.

Clark felt it, warm tears dripped down his arms, running down onto the bed. Before he could say anything, Cass spoke up, “Clark listen, when I’m gone,”

Clark stopped her, “Don’t.”

She continued, “No, please, listen, when I’m gone, it’s gonna hurt baby, its gonna hurt a lot, but I need you to be strong. I need you to be the strong, amazing man that I fell in love with, I need you to be strong, for her.”

Clark jolted awake in his armchair, a shiver ran over him. It had seemed so real.

Exhaling deeply he sat back in his chair, his gaze upon the ceiling, deeply he drifted in thought.

Maybe he didn’t deserve to see her again, but he had to, if not for him, to tell her about her mother, to prove to her there was someone unlike him, someone good, someone beautiful.

Chapter 23

Macklin stood outside the pharmacy, directly below the dreary, faded 1 hour photo sign. He stood dressed in civilian clothes, watching.

Casually he lit a cigarette, watching the dark jeeps of Sanders Corp. drive down the icy road towards the police station, slowly, he turned around, nodding to the clerk at the front desk inside.

“What in the hell is that?” Jason stepped back, his arms folded, he squinted hard at the blurred photo that now hung, dripping in the dark room.

“Well Sheriff,” Ray said, staring downward, rolling his sleeves back up around his elbows, he soaked another photo in the solution. Arms outstretched he hung the dripping photo carefully on the line to develop.

Shaking off his hands, he readjusted his large spectacles and turned back to Jason. “I believe we may be dealing with an Ursus Arctos, possibly Horribilis.” Ray walked to the nearby desk and sat down pulling a large textbook from the desk, worn from frequent use. Hastily he flipped it open fumbling through the pages, stopping occasionally to readjust his glasses.

Jason, arms still folded, walked to the table, annoyed, he tried to think, “What?”

Ray looked up at Jason, his face bored, “Well yes, I know that does seem a bit far fetched, but you asked for my best guess.” Without missing a beat, he turned back to his book, scanning the pages in the dark room.

“Ray,” Jason said, losing his patience, walked over to the desk, “Don’t you know it’s bad for your eyes to read in the dark?” he grabbed the side of the book, shutting it hard, nearly smashing Ray’s fingers.

Ray looked up, startled, “Sheriff, what was that for?” his voice angry but still with a hint of cowardice.

“I just got felt up by one of those Sanders bastards, I intend to remain ahead of them on this.” pressing harder down on the books worn cover, Jason leaned in close to Ray, who now shook in his chair like a frightened child.

“For once Ray……WILL YOU SPEAK FUCKING ENGLISH!?” Jason’s voice echoed off the walls of the dark room, shaking Ray to the core. “What, do, you, think, happened?” Jason enunciated each word with a cold precision.

“A….A B-Bear, Sheriff,” Ray said, looking up into Jason’s fierce eyes. For a moment they sat in silence.

“God Dammit Ray!” Jason swept the book off the table, sending it crashing into the wall. “How does a bear climb 3 stories up a sheer wall?” “How does a bear get through 2 inch reinforced glass?” “On the second story with no leverage?” Jason turned back to the photos, yelling, “How Ray? How?” “How do you gather, a God Damn bear broke into the room?!”

Ray watched in terror from behind his thick lenses, shaking.

Jason leaned in close to the overexposed photo, looking intently.

Jason didn’t, or didn’t want to believe. That woman had told him a creature had attacked her, and the fear, the fear in her eyes as she screamed at him was something Jason had seen only maybe once in his life. His mind squashed and suppressed the memories that danced into his conscious, desperate to forget.

“Ray? How do you figure it was a bear from…” Jason paused, walking to the photos that hung from the line. “…a few scratches and a trashed room?” Jason said squinting hard at the pictures trying to make something out.

“Claw marks,” Ray whispered out, almost so quietly it was nearly inaudible.

“What Ray?” Jason turned around, staring back, “Ray you better think carefully this time before you speak, you’re the only lead I have left on this, so think twice this time. And for God’s sake, translate.”

“Claw Marks,” Ray repeated, shaking.

Jason sucked in a gulp of air furiously, ready to tear into Ray, a barrage of insults arming themselves just behind his teeth.

Ray stammered, “Sheriff, they have to be! They’re too precise! I measured them!”

Jason stopped, half willing to listen. “What?”

“I measured them!, all exactly an inch and a half apart! Nothing could do that, that deeply in wood anyway, and be that precise!” Ray shook violently, leaning back in his chair away from Jason.

Jason turned around looking closer at the pictures, tired, he hung his head limply. He closed his eyes tightly and exhaled.

A few moments later the door opened, Mr. Singer, the drug store owner, poked his head in, just enough to not ruin the photos with the piercing light.

“Sheriff, its time” Jason turned around, hurriedly grabbing his coat off the hook, and snuck out the back door.

Something was amiss in their little town.

Jason shut the door quietly turning around, crashing directly into someone.

Jason and Nate fell hard, crashing onto the frozen snow. Jason stood up quickly ready for a fight, his fists clenched. As Nate stood up, he loosened them,

“Mr. Clawson?” Jason asked, confused, he lowered his fists.

Nate rubbed his hands together, brushing off the snow. “Sheriff, I need to talk to you.”

“How did you know I was here and not at the station?” Jason asked.

“I recognized your jeep.” Nate retorted, dusting the snow from his jeans. “The guy out front wouldn’t let me in. Said he was a cop.” Nate rolled his eyes. “So I snuck around back here, I figured there had to be a back door, and well, now I found you.” Nate said.

Jason thought for a moment, more confused by the minute, “Well, What is it?”

“When my wife, er…” he stopped, “When Ashley said something attacked her, it got me thinking about something Owen said to me, at first I thought he was still in shock, but I figured it might help, he-“ Nate stopped, his throat choking up.

Jason leaned in close, concerned.“What is it?”

“A monster, said some sort of monster chased him and his brother. And it was this thing in the woods that,…killed my boy, killed Wyatt.” Nate’s voice was an utter whisper now, seconds away from bursting into tears.

Jason started to dismiss this idea, trying to comfort Nate but stopped himself. Ray’s words repeated in his mind, “Exactly an inch and a half apart.”

“Son of a bitch, the coat!” Jason thought to himself.

“Fuck!” he yelled, running past Nate. Hopping the fence into the next property, he ran toward the police station.

Chapter 24

Jason dug his pocketknife hard into the crack of the window. The frost sealing the edge shut cracked and the window popped up. He had always kept his office window unlocked, he never knew when he’d get a minute to smoke in private, here at the station where Sandy wouldn’t see and scold him. Hell, she still thought he was trying to quit.

Pulling himself up into the window, he lifted one of his legs, digging his cowboy boot into the cold metal of the electricity meter just outside.

Gasping as his boot slipped free of the icy metal, he pulled harder, falling with a loud thud into his office.

Standing up quickly, he could hear voices outside. Intently, he listened. They were interrogating someone, but hadn’t heard his less than graceful entrance.

He stood up, his eyes glanced over the room, “I can’t believe this place isn’t in shambles, they must have just started.” he thought to himself as he slid the window shut.

Slowly, he walked towards the door, his feet cautiously avoiding the spots on the floor where the knotted old wood creaked. Hands shaking, he reached the door, carefully, he gripped the old brass knob, twisting it, he locked it.

He exhaled slowly, “That ‘oughta buy me some time” he thought. Warily, he walked to the closet, he couldn’t be too careful.

Pulling the closet open he pulled the torn up coat from a small box that rested in the corner, he held it up to the light, examining it. The fluorescent lights shone through the massive rips in the garment, illuminating the stains of dried blood.

Looking upon this now, he didn’t know why something didn’t seem strange when they had first found it. Nothing in these woods could have done this.

“Jesus,” he whispered to himself.

Just then the muffled silence of his office was broken by the loud shaking of the door knob, Jason’s heart stopped, the rattling grew louder and louder as his thoughts raced, thinking of a plan.

And then, he knew what to do, though he didn’t like it. Pulling off his own jacket he pulled the torn and bloodied rag of a coat over his arms, his large frame stretched the fabric, some of the threads popping and snapping. He winced with each tone of the popping fibers.

The rattling had grown louder and now had turned to pounding. Jason slipped his coat over himself once again and zipped it up tightly just as his office door burst open, splinters exploded from the door as it was kicked open, a Sanders agent stood outside, staring in shock at Jason. “Uh, Boss,” the agent started, turning to someone outside “We’ve got someone in here.”

The man moved, letting someone else in the room; Grease Hair.

“Arndt,” said Grease Hair, “What a surprise, your officers all said that you hadn’t returned yet,” “How……” his voice trailed off as he searched for a word, “Strange” he said, a sadistic grin curling up.

Jason shrugged, “Must have missed me, it has been quite a morning.” as bored of a tone as he could safely execute.

Grease Hair’s snide grin turned into a violent scowl, he stepped aside, allowing other agents inside.

“Tear the place up, pat him down,” he said staring at Jason, grinning once again.

About five men entered, and like a machine they moved from one end of the room to the other. Investigating every inch of the office. Pulling open drawers, ripping photos from the wall, tearing files from folders. The papers floated down to the trash covered floor, muddy work boots stamping on them.

A stocky man turned Jason around, patting him down.

Jason smiled to himself, they wouldn’t find anything, however, not wanting to seem suspicious, he protested.

“Can your men be a little more careful? I’ve got personal items in here.” Jason said.

Grease hair piped up first, “You don’t have anything personal Arndt, We own you.” he said chuckling to himself, “You’re our bitch.” he continued chuckling.

Jason scowled at the man, his mind raced with images of cracking this dirtbag’s skull with his fists. He smiled, imagining him on the ground coughing, as he choked on a mixture of his own blood and powdered teeth. Nothing would have stopped him either, save the better judgment of himself as he thought of his family.

The room now stood in shambles, “Are you done here?” Jason asked.

Grease Hair stood smiling, casually, he strolled over to the window, opening it, he produced a long black cigar, putting it into his mouth, “Not quite,” gesturing to his men, “Strip search him,” said Grease Hair, his voice muffled by the cigar he held in his teeth.

Jason’s heart stopped, “Fuck you! How is this necessary?!” Jason yelled, fighting off the armed men grabbing at him.

“We at Sanders Corp.” Grease Hair said, puffing on his cigar. The room filled with the freezing air outside. “Like to leave no stone unturned.” he said grinning ear to ear as if he were reciting each word from memory.

The men tore off Jason’s coat, revealing the torn up rag he wore underneath, dried blood stains and all, they tore it off him, throwing it to the floor as they continued.

Grease Hair laughed to himself as he strolled over to Jason;

“What the hell is this Arndt?” he said stooping as he grabbed the ragged coat off the floor.

Jason, now naked, stood shivering, his heart pounding.

Grease Hair laughed deeply, “You people never cease to amaze me, squatting in your shacks with these rags you call clothes.” He threw the coat down to the floor in disgust, gesturing for his men to follow him as he exited leaving the door ajar.

A few of the other officers still sat outside, staring at Jason in his office.

Jason grabbed broken door and slammed it hard, he shook with anger. He stood bathed in the cold that wafted in from outside, though Jason didn’t shiver, he stood steaming in the cold air, hot with fury.

“Motherfucker!” Jason yelled out, Punching a hole deep into the wall.

Chapter 25

After collecting himself, Jason redressed, throwing the coat back into the closet. He shut the broken door hard, forcing it back into the cracked and splintering frame. He barged out of his office, staring down any officer that dared to look at him.

Leaving the police station, he noticed a crowd gathering around the outside of the drug store, if Macklin was still at his post outside of the shop Jason couldn’t see him, the crowd would have absorbed him completely. Jogging up the road, he reached the store, pushing through the crowd, he found that stapled to one of the wood beams outside of the store was a notice. it read;

Notice to All Citizens of Whiteridge

Last night, as some of you may hear from employees or your local law enforcement officers, there was a break in at the Paradise Hotel. We have already found the party responsible with help from the local police force and will hold them responsible to the fullest extent of the law.

As many of you know, the tourism in the winter months helps all business here in Whiteridge, both local and corporate alike. We at Sanders Tourism and Traveling Inc. would appreciate you to refrain from discussing this incident with any guests or tourists

in the town. It is unnecessary as it may cause a disruption in profit in some of the local businesses. This sign will be removed in two days time. So please, let your families and neighbors know of this recent development.

Thank You.

Jason scoffed at the sign, only he and a few of the officers knew what a crock of shit this was. But everyone in town knew that the Sanders Corp. didn’t give a flying fuck about anyone in the town. They knew that they couldn’t be trusted. No one would say anything though, they knew how powerful they were. Jason looked further down, The sign continued;

On an unrelated matter, several tourists have expressed concern about a bear that has been seen near and on resort property. We understand this is uncommon and would like to avoid any unfortunate incidents involving wildlife with any of our guests or townspeople. As we know, our neighbors in the town of Whiteridge have a very rich culture of hunting and trapping, and is home to many local citizens who are well seasoned in hunting and tracking. At this time Sanders Tourism and Traveling Inc. Would like to offer a reward of $10,000 to any person(s) who are able to trap or kill the offending animal.

For any questions on this matter please ask your local law-enforcement officers.

Thank you for your time, we look forward to another successful and fruitful season this year.

Sanders Tourism and Traveling Inc.

The crowd murmured louder and louder as more read over the last lines.

“$10,000” Jason said to himself. “What the hell are they thinking? That’s just what we need, a hundred people in the woods popping off their rifles at the first thing that they see.”

The crowd was getting louder, some shouted to Jason as soon as they had noticed him, demanding answers.

“Is it true sheriff? 10,000 dollars?” some shouted at him, Jason had to gain control and fast. He pulled a chair up near the front of the crowd, standing on it.

“Alright everyone quiet down, I can take questions one at a time!” Jason yelled over the crowd, “But first, let me address this reward.” Jason thought quickly, he had to think of something.

“As you know these woods have many tourists this time of year, we can’t have a high level of people hunting every day near the lodge. As such, you will need to obtain a permit from the station first.” the crowd groaned loudly, some shouting things at Jason, nonetheless he continued,

“And….” he stammered, struggling as he tried to keep his voice above the crowd. “…And schedule a day to go out with either yourself, or a party of up to 4. If there are too many people out it can go from dangerous to deadly real quick.”

“I know that and you know that, any of us could sure as hell use this money, so let’s be smart about this.” Jason breathed deeply, thank god, he had thought of something. Slowly, he continued.

“Now, any questions?”

All at once the crowd erupted into a roar of incoherent noise, everyone trying to shout over the person next to them.

“One at a time Goddammit! One at a time!” Jason shouted over the crowd.

Languidly, the crowd quieted down, “Alright, that’s better,” Jason said, pointing out in the crowd, he said “Alright you, Everett, what have you got for me?”

Everett Becker spoke first, “Well sheriff,” he started, his slow, sauntering voice encumbered by alcohol, projected over the crowd lazily, some strained to hear.

“Just wanted to have you set that 10,000 aside for when me and Elroy go drag that bear out of the woods here tomorrow.”

The crowd erupted once again, Jason, annoyed, shot his voice back out over the crowd. “Quiet!, Dammit Everett!” his voice raised to its limits, he tried to maintain his feeble grip he had on the crowd. “A question this time please!”

The crowd quieted once again, it seemed to be growing larger by the minute, the entire town appeared to be standing in front of the store.

Maggie Bartlett piped up next, everyone knew her throughout the town, as she was always the first to call the police about anything, about whatever was drastically endangering her family’s well-being that day. “I need to know that my children are safe in my own backyard, what are you doing to make sure no one goes out without a permit?”

Jason spoke up almost with no thought, “A penalty of 1,000 dollars and 10 days in jail, I am serious about this! We will have patrols of officers monitoring the trails constantly.”

This time it wasn’t the town muttering, it was Jason’s own officers, Macklin had appeared next to him and even he whispered to himself.

Jason had had enough. “No more questions!” The crowd shouted at Jason as he stepped down from the stool. “He shouted over the crowd as he stepped down from the chair, he now stood eye to eye with them.

“Bring any questions with you when you get your permit at the station!” Macklin and some of the other officers stepped in to break up the crowd.

Jason quietly slunk back into the darkened drug store leaving the noise outside. He sucked in a relieved breath just as a hand grabbed him on the shoulder. He gasped, choking on his air, he turned around.

“Mr. Clawson?!” he coughed out, attempting to slow his heartbeat.

“Nate, Sheriff, call me Nate,” Nate said back in the darkness of the drug store.

“Alright…..” Jason started, exhaling deeply, “Nate. What the hell are you doing in here?” Jason asked trying to catch his breath.

“I stayed behind, they won’t let me in anywhere else, not even the hospital, I figured the best place I could catch you would be in here, owner must have forgotten about me.” Nate continued, his tone growing more serious, distinct.  “Listen, Ashley is in that hospital with Owen right now, I know it. I can’t let her take him from me, I can’t lose him, he’s….he’s all I have left now.”

Jason thought for a moment. He didn’t want to interact with the Sanders goons anymore today if he could avoid it, but, he saw….opportunity. Now that that woman had calmed down out of her hysterics, maybe he could get some succinct answers from her. At first it had been merely a gut feeling but this reward business had gathered all of his attention.

The Sanders Corporation were greedy and tight fisted, they would slit your throat for a penny given the chance, they wouldn’t be offering up reward money unless they themselves believed there was a legitimate threat to their cash flow.

Jason hated himself for his foolishness as soon as he though it, but, he reconsidered. Could there really be something in these woods? Something menacing? Something unnatural? The things he had seen these past days made him question everything that he had thought he had known. He needed to know, he needed to protect his home, his life.

“Alright Nate, let’s go pay your wife a visit.”

Chapter 26

Nate and Jason walked towards the police station, the ice crunching below their feet. Nate pulled hard on the officer’s uniform he now wore, just too small for him.

Jason scanned the room, all but a few of the Sanders Employees had left, but there was no sign of Grease Hair. Jason breathed a sigh of relief.

Trying not to rouse any attention Jason went by the book and checked in at the front desk.

Alivia, the receptionist, recognized him immediately and smiled. She had always found him to have a rugged, handsome way about him, the thought of the bristled whiskers on his hardened face brushing against her neck sent shivers through her, goosebumps rose and her cheeks reddened at the mere thought.

Of course, she attempted to gain his attention whenever he would pass through the hospital, ever so innocently of course. She had known his wife, Sandra in school, herself 2 years behind her, she knew she had a temper about her and feared what that woman may be capable of.

Jason was taken aback for a moment, the careful tone of her soft, silken voice, he would avoid the desk normally as much as he could, but now it stirred him deep inside, he could have her anytime and he knew it.

Regrettably, he allowed himself this moment, he gazed upon her, his tired eyes consuming every color, every tone. Her flowing black hair, her tight oil colored skin emanated a satisfying light brown hue. A welcome change in color from this white frozen wasteland. Time had been kind to her, she neared 40 but neither her complexion nor her voice that radiated youth with each word, revealed this secret.

Jason snapped back into his cold reality, cursing himself for being so juvenile, he cleared his voice, “Alivia, we need to speak with some of the patients, police business.”

Alivia was unshaken by his sudden change in demeanor, she had him wrapped around her finger, whether he would admit it or not. It was then that she noticed Nate, “Who is he?” she asked inquisitively.

Jason responded quickly as he had rehearsed through his mind, “This is Nathan Burbank, he’s a transfer from Crestwood, he’s new in town.” He grimaced at his own hollow lie, he could care less what this airhead knew, but he couldn’t risk the remaining Sanders agents picking up on him.

“Mmm…” Alivia sighed, looking at Nate, “I’m very sorry for you.”

Nate forced out a hollow laugh of acknowledgment.

“What patients do you need to see Sheriff?” she said flipping through the clipboard on her desk, pausing for a moment she carefully pulled her hair back slowly, tying it up. Two stray strands of her soft, dark hair still hung freely, grazing her brow delicately.

“Ashley Clawson, and Roy….” Jason slowed looking at Nate, his gaze inquiring.

“Dean” Nate spat out hurriedly, he began shifting further away from the desk. Trying to catch a glimpse of the beds in the other room.

Jason turned back to Alivia, “Ashley Clawson and Roy Dean, both tourists.”

Alivia ran her fingers through the pages, mumbling under her breath, “Clawson…..” “Oh here she is…” she said stopping on a page, “Oh…Sheriff it says here she checked out.”

“What?!” Nate clamored,

Alivia, not noticing, continued flipping through the registry, stopping. “That Roy fellow as well. Sorry Sheriff,”

Nate broke past Jason, running into the next room.

“Is he alright?” Alivia asked confused,

“Yeah” Jason belted out quickly, not giving it a second thought, he followed Nate quickly,

Nate entered the room scanning the beds, he breathed a sigh of relief, Owen was still in his bed, he sat up above the covers reading a book. He looked up,

“Dad!” Owen exclaimed, slowly, he stood up, a hint of pain hid behind his eyes, he began walking slowly towards Nate.

One of the few remaining Sanders Agents quickly stepped in the way, “Please son, back to your bed, we aren’t quite done with our questions yet.”

“Where is my wife?!” Nate demanded,

Another Sanders Agent that sat at the table stood up, a woman, “Wife?” she asked inquisitively, “May I ask who you are referring to officer?” she asked, addressing him with a cold professionalism,”

“Ashley Clawson, she was a patient here today,” Nate continued, his voice still raised loudly.

The woman stared at Nate confused, “I’m sorry, Ashley Clawson departed with her husband Roy a couple hours ago.”

Jason stood in near awe, the cooperation of this agent took him aback.

“Husband?!” Nate yelled, livid. “I am her husband! This is our son Owen!” He yelled gesturing towards the bed.

“I am sorry,” the woman started, “The Ashley Clawson that was a patient here stated she had no children during our questioning, you must be mistaken.”

“She’s a goddamned liar!” Nate yelled, angry tears began to form on behind his eyes, his mind raced in confusion, “We had two sons!” Nate’s voice began to crack, “Owen and Wya-“

“Had?” the woman began.

Jason stepped in quickly, cutting him off,  “Miss, we just had a few questions to ask the couple,” Jason could hear Nate fuming behind him as the word “couple” escaped his lips, “Can you tell us where they are?”

The woman's cooperation seemed to dissipate almost immediately, immediately resuming the stiff mold of her comrades, “I am sorry, I cannot divulge whereabouts, although it would do no use, Mrs. Clawson and her husband departed Whiteridge, nearly an hour ago.”

“Departed?” Nate thought to himself, with a sudden horrible realization, he bolted out of the room.

“Shit!” His voice echoed off the cold linoleum floor as his damp boots squeaked shrilly with each bound.

Jason confused, watched as the outside door burst open, thin snowflakes floated outside in the evening twilight.

He wasted no time, he turned back to the woman, trying to maintain his temper, he needed as much as he could get out of this woman, “Well, may I ask why you are interrogating this boy?”

The woman opened her mouth to speak as the outside door burst open once again loudly.

“Sheriff!” Nate yelled, “She took it! She stole my car!” he shouted as he bounded back into the room.

Jason’s attention shifted, “Are you sure?”

Nate yelled back, “Of course I’m sure, she’s the only one who had the other key!” I have my set right here, he said producing a set of keys from his pocket, jingling them.

Jason leaned into his radio, “Macklin I need you and 2 other officers to get down the canyon now, look for….” he looked back up at Nate.

“It’s a dark red Range Rover!” Nate said back.

“Dark red Range Rover,” Jason spoke into his radio again, “license plate number,”

Nate spoke again almost immediately, “49-Y2815”

Jason repeated the information just as he was interrupted by the Sanders woman, “I am sorry, you cannot do that, the Clawson’s have signed a confidentiality contract about yesterday’s events, any details divulged from them will forfeit their settlement, there is no use in tracking them down, they would simply refuse to cooperate.”

“Settlement! She wanted the money goddammit!” Nate shouted, he now paced the floor, seeming as if he would explode at any minute.

Jason spoke back to the woman calmly, almost smiling, “This isn’t for any details,”

“Then what, may I ask is it for?” the woman asked back calmly,

Jason looked up from his radio as Macklin’s familiar voice projected from it,

“Roger Sheriff.”

He looked straight at the woman and responded simply, “Car theft.”

Chapter 27

Nate had followed Jason up the street to the station, leaving Owen to drift away into sleep. He hadn't wanted to send him back to the hotel alone, after all, they were all either of them had left anymore.

He and Jason now sat on the old pine benches in the front room of the station. A storm howled as snow flurries swirled outside. The large flakes seemed to swarm in groups as if they were a flock of birds, swaying back and forth in the freezing wind.

They stared out through the large pane of glass, a thin wispy smoke billowed up from the cigarettes they held lazily in the "V"  of their two fingers. Macklin sat in the worn office chair at the front desk, his head slumped back, asleep. The storm had come almost as soon as they had left the hospital. A storm that had brought the entire fury of the mountain with it. Snow, hard and heavy snow, fell from the sky, the wind howled and whipped in every direction that shook the building with each gust.

Even Jason or Macklin, two locals, seasoned in driving in the deep snow and ice, couldn't hope to maneuver the treacherous mountain pass in this blizzard.

Gone was Nate's wife, and gone was Jason's only witness and only hope to finally make sense of all of this.

The two men sat in near silence in the ever-present hum of the radiator that laid a blanket of stale heat over the damp wood floor, coddling them in the musty warmth of the police station. All others sounds were muffled through the soft descent of the snow just outside.

"The first heavy snow of the year and we get it today," Jason thought to himself.

"Ain't no use in waiting for it to stop anymore." he thought as he stared out across the pristine, white powder, that blanketed the town.

Across town, over the peaks of the tall pines and the swirls of the falling snow. Everett and Elroy Becker, trudged through the thigh deep snow, into the woods. Staying close to the tree line they used this unexpected cover to their advantage.

"I still don't know why we didn't put all this shit on the stretcher." Elroy said, struggling with the 2 bags that now hung off his back. The straps heavy, digging deep into the padding of his coat pinched his muscles with their weight.

"Cause you dumb fucker, you want to cough up a thousand bucks? I sure as hell don't," Everett hissed back, snowflakes clung to his dark red mustache, the smell of booze escaping into the chill of the night air . "Now keep up. Sooner in we're in the woods the better."

Slowly, they hiked into the woods. Everett taking frequent breaks to suck more whiskey from his rusted flask.

Finally, they came to a stop, with a muffled thud Elroy heaved off the packs down to the snowy forest floor. Pulling open the bag, he reached into it, producing a large bear trap. The chain hung limply, jingling quietly in the forest, the sound eerily echoing off the frozen bark of the pine trees.

Things went they always did, Everett slumped back against a tree, barking orders as his cousin worked on. Elroy shook his head, trying his best to block out Everett’s drunk nonsense as he worked. His skilled, trained hands set the trap, the muscle memory almost seemed to assemble it for him.

Everett continued his drunken noise, his arms waved back and forth in the flurries of snow, his slurred words echoed throughout the woods. Elroy thought about telling him to shut his mouth, knowing he would be scaring away anything that they hoped to trap out here, but he didn't dare, his cousin was a violent drunk.

The trap set, he walked towards Everett, now pointing at the sky, going on about some story he'd "Heard from some injun' in Smithfield" Elroy sighed and sat down next to him. Elroy rested on the ground near him, tuning out his mumbling. He scraped his foot on the forest floor, using his boot to gather all the snow into one dirty pile as he sat.

They hadn't even set the bait, but he didn't care, Everett was too drunk to notice, and if Everett didn't care, he didn't need to care. He sat staring out into the vastness of the snow-blanketed forest.

With the cream moonlight shining down upon the new fresh snow he almost didn't need the flashlight he now held. He sighed and switched it off, restoring it to his coat pocket. He laid further back against the tree, relaxed, and sucked in a deep gulp of the night air. The cold didn't have it’s usual bite, he didn't know why but it almost seemed as if whenever it would snow, the cold seemed to take a walk, leaving behind the warmth that the beauty of the fresh fallen snow radiated.

It was then, clear as day that he heard Everett speak, not the drunken, garbled nonsense he was accustomed to, but in a clarity that Elroy didn't know that his cousins alcohol soaked mind could still manage. Clearly, Everett turned to Elroy, looking off to the side of him staring, and said; ”Elroy?”

Elroy stared back, confused, he slowly turned his head around. "What are you staring a-"

He turned, his body paralyzed every muscle with fear, there, mere inches from his face was some ungodly monster standing on all fours.

It was something out of a nightmare. It's snarling teeth dripped forth a steaming saliva that fell upon the snow. A stomach churning stench emanated from the beast's snarl. With a guttural roar, it reared up on its hind legs, lashing out with one of its filth encrusted claws.

Elroy ducked quickly, the razor sharp claws passing just over his face as he ducked into the thick snow. He didn't see what happened next, but he didn't have to, the sound was enough. The creature, just missing Elroy as he ducked, skewered Everett against the tree with its menacing claws. Everett, his reflexes slowed from a lifetime of drinking, let out a sickening groan as the sound of ripping flesh filled Elroy's ears.

Elroy rolled around looking back up above him, the fresh fallen snow clinging to his warm face. The creature lifted Everett high into the air over him. Blood poured down onto the snow, blood that drained heavily from Everett's wounds. The sickening liquid showered over Elroy as Everett was lifted over him, causing him to sputter and gag.

Everett's screams were muffled by the snow that encased the forest. Though they were no less ear piercing to Elroy.

Higher the beast lifted him before bringing him down hard against the ground, right on top of Elroy. One of the beasts claws penetrating clear through Everett's thrashing body dug deeply into Elroy's arm. Elroy muffled his shout hoping the creature wouldn't notice him, he restrained himself as his mind begged him to call out to Everett, but what could he do?

Again the beast lifted Everett's body into the air, shaking violently. The blood had begun painting the snow a ghastly red. The beast roared, angry, it brought Everett down again hard, but this time directly into the center of the bear trap.

The armed trap’s metal teeth clasped hard down onto Everett's torso, the teeth digging into his ribs. His shrieks returned to their former ear splitting volume as his arms fumbled for the teeth. Pulling hard against the trap’s jaws, his legs writhed on the snow covered ground, attempting to free himself from this grisly trap.

With Everett now trapped, the beast wrenched it's hand free of it's grip on him, the claws making a grotesque sucking noise as they were ripped from his body. It’s mouth opened once more, the heated breath of it's snarl fogged the cold forest air. Its teeth, dripping with saliva, oozed upon Everett as he screamed.

His breaths were shallow and gurgled, the trap restricting his crushed lungs. In almost one motion, the jaws of the hideous monster clasped down on Everett's throat, Gurgling, he screamed. The beast shook him back and forth, tearing the trap from the frozen forest floor.

Suspended from the beasts jaws, Everett’s body hung limply like a rag doll as the beast shook him back and forth.

In moments Everett's horrified screams were replaced by the muffled snarl of the beast and the faint jingle of the frozen chain in the all encompassing silence of the forest. It's ghostly chimes broadcasting throughout the woods.

The snow was falling harder now. The wind howled and blew it into a blinding fury of white. Elroy wasted no time, the creature’s attention was elsewhere, gripping his wounded arm tight, he ran, disappearing into the storm, a macabre choir of chimes jingling faintly behind him.

Chapter 28

The police station was packed the next morning and well into the afternoon. The snow had still not slowed, but that didn't stop nearly everyone in the town with either a gun or a trap from trudging through, in some parts, nearly waist deep snow.

Jason had retreated to his office, his boots kicked up on the table, snow melting in the warmth of the room dripped upon his old pine desk, soaking into the wood.

He took solace in the sound of the muffled chaos outside his door. He smiled to himself, he was lucky he hadn't thrown out the old door that now hung from the bent hinges. Sure it squeaked and the water outside had gotten in and swelled it, but it was better than nothing.

He twirled the glass of whiskey in his hand, examining it as the melting ice cubes clinked against the fogged glass. He had poured it for himself nearly an hour ago but hadn't touched it, still he stared, far too deep in his thoughts.

Slowly, he brought the glass to his lips, the warmth of the liquor washed over him. The anger and frustration he had stewed on the past week seemed to melt away with each comforting sip. He pressed the cold glass against his temple, exhaling deeply. When a sudden knock at the door ripped him from his temporary state of bliss.

Hastily, he poured out the remaining contents of the glass into the trash can. Jason cleared his throat, ”Come in.”

The door opened to reveal Clark, standing in the doorway, his face pale and eyes bloodshot. Macklin stood closely behind him.

Jason stood up quickly, “Clark!?” Jason’s heart sunk, “Not again,” he thought.

“Jesus, you look like hell, what happened?"

Clark spoke up, but each word seemed to be a struggle, sweat secreting from his pores as he tripped over every syllable. "I've been uh...taking a few days to myself, trying to get cleaned up,"

Macklin spoke up, "Is he ok Sheriff?"

"Yeah he's fine, shut the door." Jason said. Waving away Macklin, he turned back to Clark. "What do you mean by getting cleaned up?"

"I mean I'm quitting drinking, for good." Clark said weakly but nonetheless proud. The swollen door struggled to shut behind him.

Jason sat back in shock. Who was this person that stood in front of him? Could it really be his old lost friend? Cautiously, he spoke.

“That’s…That’s great Clark.” his mind was empty, unable to think of what else he could say.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said, ‘bout me seeing my daugh-….Lizzie again.” Clark continued, his dry raspy voice struggling. His eyes squinted hard under the fluorescent light bulbs. “And I thought, I’d better be presentable.”

Jason thought for a moment, in the chaos of the past few days, he had nearly forgotten his offer to Clark. Jason sat still, thinking to himself. He wanted to open himself up, allow his old friend to return to him, but the wounds he had suffered in the past still lay raw and stinging. He needed more time, needed to see if this man who now stood in front of him, had in fact returned from the darkness of his past. He couldn't allow it, not yet at least.

“Clark, let’s talk for a minute,” Jason said, fishing through his pockets, he produced two cigarettes, bent and wrinkled.

Clark’s brow furrowed, but he listened. Accepting one of the cigarettes from Jason’s outstretched hand, he placed the warm, dry paper in his mouth.

“Over here,” Jason said gesturing to the window as he pried it open. The cold air rushed into the artificial warmth of the room. “Sandy will have my ass if she finds out I’m still smoking.” Jason said leaning against the edge of the window, lighting his cigarette. “Now, about your daughter,..”

Clark listened intently, joining Jason near the window.

“Now you’ve no doubt heard about this reward money,” Jason said, casually taking a deep drag.

Clark listened, confused. Unable to decipher Jason’s cryptic expression.

“Now I could get on the phone right now, and have the paperwork started to allow a visit. But like you said yourself, you want to be presentable…..stable.” Jason continued. Casually he blew the cloud of smoke out into the sea of shallow flakes that fell from the gray sky.

“Clark, you’re one of the best hunters I’ve had the pleasure of knowing in this town. I figure you got as good a chance as anyone of taking down that bear they’re trying to get, if not better. With my help I’ll get you a special permit. Go hunting any day you please.” Jason lowered his voice as he spoke, knowing full well the level of chaos that would ensue if anyone heard him in the crowd outside.

“$10,000 is a hell of a lot of money Clark, for anyone, don’t you want to be set up? Be…a different man than that little girl remembers? Be able to offer something? Jason said, examining Clark’s face closely for a response.

Clark thought for a moment in silence, Jason clenched his teeth in preparation for the fight he was sure would follow, but it never came. Instead Clark said calmly, “Alright Sheriff, I’ll do it.” he paused, thinking. “But, I could use some help out there, one man ain’t much against a whole town out hunting, think you’d be up for a little hunting trip?” Clark said smiling.

Jason stood quietly, could it really be? His old friend changing his ways at long last? His mind raced with the old faded memories of the old hunting trips. The memories that time had distorted and nearly forgotten.

“Alright Clark,” Jason spoke up, “Hell, I could use an excuse to get out of here anyway, how ‘bout we head over to the shop and get a few things and we could try heading out tomorrow.”

Clark stared vacantly out the window, his lips shut tightly.

Jason stared, confused, “Clark?” he asked, turning out the window to look, a wave of shock washing over him as his eyes saw it.

There, just 50 feet from the window, stumbling out of the tree line, was a man, limping and covered in blood.

Chapter 29

He had collapsed almost as soon as they had reached him. Ice and frost clung to his eyebrows and facial hair, some fingers hung limply, black with frostbite. The words echoed in Jason's mind once again. "Something in the woods."

As fast as the deep snow would allow them, Clark and Jason carried Elroy to the hospital, each struggling step packing their boots thick with snow.

The man lay delirious on the bed beneath them, Jason demanding answers from James nearly every breath he took. "What the hell happened to him James?" "What could have done this?"

James looked up at him for a moment, confused. "Done this? What do you mean by that Sheriff?"

Jason paused for a moment. Carelessly, he had sounded more worried than he had wanted to. "I mean, hurt him like this?"

The doctor looked back down at Elroy, almost bored. "Well as far as the blood, I do believe that it is not his...."

Jason looked down at the man, confused.

James continued, "From what I gather, there seems to be nothing wrong with our friend Elroy here at all, save for the frostbite. I'm going to have to sedate him and take these 3 off." he said, gesturing to the black, throbbing fingers on Elroy's hand.

The man on the bed groaned, his eyes rolling back in his head, almost unaware of their own motion.

"Well who's blood is it?" Jason asked puzzled, "I mean, what, or who’s could it be?"

"An animal?" the doctor almost asked himself, boringly. "It's a shame, I figure he must have gotten a little too sauced up and got lost out there, happens a few times a year, you know that more than anyone Sheriff."

Jason looked at James, a confused look on his face.

"James, this is Elroy Becker here, he's got that drunk Everett for a roommate. I don't think...." Jason stopped, he looked down at the blood that covered Elroy, his mind raced, not wanting to believe. "Oh God,"

Clark connected the dots first, “Oh God. Sheriff you don't think he offed Everett? Elroy's one of the most spineless men I've ever met-"

Jason stopped him, "It's not that much of a long shot Clark, think about it, he get's tired of Everett beating on him all the time,” Jason said, adding the thoughts up in his head quickly, “The man takes his opportunity, then he takes off into the woods after he sees what he's done,"

Jason scowled now at Elroy's unconscious body, taking his handcuffs out, he locked Elroy's uninjured hand to the bed.

Looking back up at James, Jason continued. "Do the surgery Doc, and I want him awake in 1 hour," Jason said turning to leave.

Just then, Elroy snapped up in his bed, his hand grabbing the first thing he could find; Jason's arm. His eyes were foggy with a thin glaze over them and his black, pulsing fingers, hot with infection, gripped Jason's arm tight. His pupils swelled with delirium as they searched blindly.

Clark jumped back startled as Jason yelled out, tearing his arm from Elroy’s grip. James, set in his robotic ways, continued almost too calmly.

Elroy's eyes staring off in the distance, he struggled with each word.

"Oh god...." "God no...." his voice grew frantic, he drew pity as he whimpered out each word. "Something out there, God no, there's something out there. Something horrible. Something."

Panic washed over Jason as this delirious man reaffirmed these fears he held in the back of his mind, not believing or not wanting to believe.

”What Elroy?!" "What did you see?!" Jason shouted.

Clark and James were taken aback for a moment, confused at Jason's unprecedented change in tone.

“My arm! Oh God my Arm!” he clawed at his torn coat, screaming as if his blood were cauterizing his veins as it pumped throughout his body with each heartbeat.”

Jason yelled, frantically trying to snap Elroy back into coherence. “Elroy! There’s nothing on your arm! Your hallucinating! Tell me! You need to tell me what you saw out there!

Elroy mumbled as his eyes fell back, James appeared behind him, catching him before he fell back onto the bed, an empty syringe in his unoccupied hand.

"I'm sorry Sheriff, he isn't stable, you can talk to him after I save his hand from that infection.” James said. Grabbing some bandages from a nearby drawer, he went to work.

Jason held in his temper, it would do no good anyway. Trying to reason with James was like talking to a wall. He was a man very set in his ways. He didn't know how his wife didn't kill him over it.

As Jason left the room, one of the many wooden cabinets hung open, unfortunate enough to be in Jason's path. Grabbing it, he slammed it hard, the old rusted screws snapped, popping the hinges from the wood. The solid pine door fell to the ground with a loud clatter. Jason stormed out of the room, his attention unbroken.

Clark yelled at Jason “Where are you going?” he shrugged it off and looked back to the doctor. Glancing down at the bed, he froze.

"Oh god no.” he thought, his blood chilling to a cold ice. It was her. Laying on the bed below him was his wife, her face a sickly pale, her eyes sunken back in her tight skin, stretched against her wispy frame, ghostly almost.

It pained Clark the most to have her be seen like this, only because this was the only person the doctors knew, not the woman he had married, not the woman he still knew existed inside, if only just.

The woman who's heart ached for those she could not touch with her kindness. His wife, the warmth of her smile that could stoke the fire in the coldest of hearts. This wasn't her, not this person the doctors knew, not the person they had seen wither away before their eyes. They had only just held the wilting flower that had bloomed so beautifully for so long. They didn't know, and Clark felt sorry for them, unaware of the incredible woman they would never know.

“Fuck!", Clark's head stung sharply, his eyes closed tight as his knees weakened. Grabbing the nearby wall to support himself, he tried desperately to stay in reality. Cold sweat slid slowly down his forehead and sides, chilling him. He looked down at the bed again. Elroy lay below him, unconscious. He didn't see the Doc, but it didn't matter.

"Clark?" he heard someone ask behind him, his anxiety began to melt away as he heard it.

"Oh thank God, Doc..." he said, turning around, his heart nearly stopping from what he saw.

There on the vacant bed, lay a body bag. Slowly, he heard the metal teeth separate. One by one they popped open as the metal ring of the zipper descended. A figure rose up from within the dark rubber fabric of the bag.

Clark's brow sunk, curving upward, a sorrowful plea of despair.

"Oh god, no....please" his voice was weak and pitiful. His wife, hardly recognizable, sat up on the bed, turning her head slowly towards him.

Her muscles, stiffened with rigor mortis, popped and snapped with each passing second as she turned to face him. Her matted hair hung flatly. Strands of hair pressed and stuck against her pale, rotting flesh.

The hair on Clark's neck prickled up sharply, rising from his back to the top of his head. Panic sent cold shivers to his fingertips, his heart pounded.

Slowly her eyes opened, the blank, dilated pupils fixated on Clark. With a deliberate sluggishness, her mouth twisted upward, opening into a sinister grin, revealing her black, decaying teeth.

Rising in volume, her slow whispering voice began to speak to Clark. Her tepid breath escaping lightly, like that of a snake, hissing almost at Clark.

"FFF.....Failure." Grinning with a twisted smile, her eyebrows spiraled downward into an evil scowl.

Over and over, she hissed it, "Failure." "Failure." each word uttered with a malicious satisfaction.

Clark's heart pounded, begging her to stop.

"No, Please....Please God....No." his voice was just a whimper now.

Her voice grew louder and louder echoing off the edges of his brain. He pleaded, he begged, pleaded with the voice. He begged for his sanity, pleading for peace, for serenity, for calm.

"Clark!" James stood over him.

Clark coughed. The smell of ammonia hung pungent in his nostrils.

"Oh thank god." James said, capping the smelling salts in his hand.

"Doc..." Clark said, "What in the hell..."

"Clark, you collapsed. What happened? Are you alright?”

The demanding nature of his words irritated Clark further.

Clark stood up, James protesting incessantly as he walked away.

"I quit drinking, haven't quite been myself lately." Clark said, the words robotic, unthinking. Walking towards the door, he could feel the stinging in the back of his head becoming more prominent.

"Clark!" The doctor shouted. "You really shouldn't be walking!" the slam of the heavy wooden door shutting cut him off into his own silence.

Trudging through the snow that hadn't seemed to have stopped in days, Clark made his way to his house. The plows swept by as they had during the days prior, attempting to keep the snow at bay. The smell of gas hung heavy in the air of the falling snow. The black, dirty snow was piled high in the drifts that surrounded the road. Keeping the town’s road clear was a daunting enough task for the plow drivers in the heavy snow, let alone the long and winding mountain road.

Because of this, the slow stream of tourists had stopped completely, a testament to the rest of the townspeople the strange nature of the goings-on in their quiet little town.

Clark continued down the slush and snow filled road, the cold flakes finding a way into the inner workings of his boots.

The low bellying of a diesel engines horn drew Clark out of his thoughts.

“Fuck,” he said to himself, turning up to wave an apology to the driver.

“Here I am, the asshole stuck in my daydream walking down the street like a jackass,” he thought.

“Sorr-“ his voice ceased in shock.

“You running again?” His wife yelled at him from the passenger seat of the truck.

“Get out of my head Goddammit!” Clark screamed, pleading with the voice within his own mind.

It was hers, her soft, gentle voice.

“No it isn’t! It’s not her! She’s fucking gone!”

The inner turmoil of Clark’s mind churned what little contents his stomach held, into an acidic froth. He vomited onto the pristine whiteness of the snow. The bitter bile of his seething insides set on his tongue, causing him to wretch. He shook violently, sweating in the cold of the snowy air.

“Are you okay honey?” her soft voice asked.

He wouldn’t turn, he wouldn’t look. Wouldn’t see her soft, forgiving eyes, the persuasive warmth of her smile. Her smile; that which would make him feel that all was right in the world, time and time again.

“I am okay, because you are not fucking real!” the voices fought in his head, angry and bitter.

“You are just what you are expected to be. Worthless. Nothing. You are trash.” She hissed.

It wasn’t her voice, he knew that, he knew that. But it echoed off each corner of his throbbing mind telling him that it was.

“Don’t do this, don’t turn her against me” Clark thought.

“That’s right. You need me, Without me, you cannot be.” The voice hissed, the anger biting like venom with each word.

Clark, his cabin within sight, made a break for the door. “I can’t….” he panted under his breath, “I can’t do it….”

Creaking open the door, he entered through the smallest crack he could fit and slammed the door hard behind him. She wouldn’t be shut out, but he couldn’t be sure.

He had cleaned all of his liquor out a few days before, but in habit, he frantically searched everywhere, every inch of his cabin. Tearing open cupboard doors, ripping open mattresses, violently pulling clothes from every drawer. Nothing.

“Fuck!” he yelled in his suffocating loneliness, dragging his arms across his table, he swept his belongings onto the floor clattering.

Then, it came to him.

No, he couldn’t, not that.

He needed to.

Slowly, he walked to her old dresser, the dust sat thick on it, untouched for so many years. He gripped the old brass knobs and pulled the drawer open, the old wood creaked, begging to not be disturbed.

There it lay. He gripped the old bottle in his rough, calloused hands. The glass bottle, dyed a Christmas green, shook in his hands. Tears fell upon the bottle, melting the brown dust away with each drop.

“I can’t believe she saved this.” he thought to himself.

“Wine, a bottle from our wedding night…..nearly 20 years, My god…” he sighed to himself. His shaking hands produced a knife from his pocket, fumbling with it until he heard the audible click. He held the knife to the bottle as he tore the foil away. Popping the cork, his shaking hands caused some of the liquid to fall upon the filthy carpet, soaking it.

Trembling, he held the bottle to his lips, the intoxicating liquid just inches from his tongue.

This time, she whispered right into his ear. He heard her again. “Do it.”

Like a great fire lit inside him, anger boiled inside Clark.

Determination.

Clark brought the bottle high above his head, gripping it tightly.

“You aren’t real!” he shouted with a fury he didn’t know he still had. He brought the bottle  down hard against the old wooden dresser, shattering it. The shards of glass, sticky with the liquid, embedded themselves deep into his hand. He didn’t notice.

Again and again he brought his hand down upon the shards, breaking them into finer pieces with each blow. The glass digging further and further into his already bandaged hand.

“Fuck!”

He hit for the years he had wasted in sorrow.

“Fuck!”

He hit for the time he had given up. The time he had lost.

“Fuck!”

He hit for the life he would never know.

Panting heavily, Clark sucked in heavy breaths of the hot air, his chest rising and falling violently. His hand pouring blood hit the carpet audibly. Clark fell back into his chair and sat back. In one motion he lashed out, kicking a hole into the old dresser.

Chapter 30

Jason opened the door to the photo lab.

Still reading in the dim glow of the dark room, Ray looked up, his glasses hung limply on his nose, a book sat unfurled on the desk.

He looked up at the Sheriff, unamused, he pushed his glasses back up, the heavy frames constantly sliding down his long nose.

Seeing Jason, he folded the crinkled pages of his book shut, careful to save his place. He looked up at Jason.

”Come to make another mess?" he asked annoyed. He took the glasses off, setting them down on his book, rubbing the sore notches on the bridge of his nose.

The book, fraying outward radically from use, caused the glass to slide down the cover, falling off the table. Ray lunged for the falling glasses, missing, he jammed his finger into the side of the desk.

Jason managed to catch the glasses just before they hit the floor, dusting them off on his jacket, he extended his arm out, handing them to Ray.

"Look Ray," Jason started, "I'm sorry, things got out of hand earlier," Jason said, his meek tone as authentic as he could produce. He would need to sell it if he wanted Ray's help, he was a quiet man, but he didn't hesitate to let you know you had pissed him off, and could hold a grudge like no one else.

"Oh, you’re sorry," Ray said, his voice heavy with sarcasm and annoyance.

He paused, fogging his glasses and cleaning them, he continued. "You ask for my opinion and you lose your shit. What the hell was that about anyway?"

Jason thought back, the tension still simmered deep within. What he wouldn't give to hear the sound of Grease Hair's skull splitting underneath his fist.

Clearing his throat, he turned back to Ray, "There was a lot happening that day, you know that Ray. Going against Sanders Corp.? You know me, I'm the last person who would do that, let alone ask someone else to.”

Placing his glasses back on, Ray sat quiet for a moment, silently pondering.

Jason continued, "Look Ray, I can sit here and apologize all day, I'm here because, I think you might be right." Jason winced at his own words, his suspicions, minor though they may be, he still flinched at the sound of his own foolishness.

Ray looked up, puzzled, "The bear? You think it was a bear? he said, examining Jason’s expression through the thick frames of his worn, scratched glasses.

"Not a bear Ray, I....." Jason thought over his words in his mind, the sheer foolishness of what he was saying, caused him to shake his own head.

"I..I don't know Ray, I think there’s something…something out there." his voice trailed off.

Ray raised an eyebrow, "Something? What, like Bigfoot?" Ray chuckled to himself as he sat back in his chair. The old wood creaked as he laughed, ”Have you finally lost it Sheriff?”

Jason scowled back at Ray, "No, you jackass, I've got two victims that have both said they were attacked in the woods, and Sanders swooping in like they did? You can't tell me you believe that was a normal visit Ray, come on, you’re smarter than that."

"Victims? Who? That boy who went missing in the woods? A boy? A tourist nonetheless?” Ray scoffed.

“Some boy's panicked stories? That’s what you want me to buy?” Ray asked, his voice doubtful, almost mocking.

"Elroy Becker," Jason said

"What?" Ray asked, intrigued.

"We've got Elroy over at the hospital right now and he's all sorts of torn up.” Jason replied.

Whatever intrigue had inhabited Ray's face now faded away. ”Since when is that news? Everyone knows that drunk Everett is always beating on him." Ray said, his arms folded, unconvinced.

"That's the thing," Jason said, gesturing towards the door. He leaned in closer to Ray, "We've scoured the whole town for that asshole Everett, and he's nowhere to be seen. His house, the bar, the alley, nowhere. And here's the thing." Jason leaned in further, his voice shrinking to a near whisper.

"The Doc says Elroy's got someone else's blood all over him."

"Oh god," Ray leaned back, "You don't think?"

Jason stopped Ray quickly, "No I don't, and neither should you, Elroy ain't got the stones to kill anyone, you know that and I know that."

"I don't know Sheriff, it seems to me all your “evidence” here can be explained away if you look hard enough.” Ray furrowed his brow, standing up. “You sure your alright?" Ray said, examining Jason closely, "When's the last time you got a full night's sleep? These short days can do a number on a your head."

Jason sighed, shaking his head as he rubbed his tired, closed eyes.

"Look Ray," he said, looking back up.

"I didn't come here to convince you, I came here because I need your help." Jason reached into the bag he held at his side, producing the old, torn coat. "This is the coat of that boy who went missing out in the woods, see these?" Jason said, holding the coat up, letting the dim red bulb filter through the gaping holes in the garment.

"Oh my God.” Ray said, quickly getting to his feet, grabbing the coat from Jason he examined it, "What in God's name...." Ray said to himself, his voice trailing off.

"Still think it's a bear?" Jason asked, allowing Ray to study it, taking satisfaction from the fact that he might not be going as crazy as he had thought.

"I don't know about those people in the hotel," Ray paused, laying the coat out on the desk. "But whatever did this, was not any animal I've ever heard of in these mountains."

"You sure Ray? Sure this can't be explained away?" Jason said, wanting no doubts, no doubts left in the back of his mind, gnawing at him. "What if say...that boy's brother did this.

Troubled young kid, dysfunctional family, gets picked on a little too much by his brother, stabs him out the woods and makes up a story."

Jason's tone evolved from rhetorical to inquisitive as he heard himself say these words out loud. Now that he heard himself say it, he didn't know why he had never even so much as considered it. But before he could think any further, Ray interrupted his sudden epiphany.

"Not possible," Ray said, now measuring the tears in the coat with a tape measure.

"What do you mean? Jason asked, walking over to the desk.

"Well these are from puncture wounds. The blood obviously, and the fabric is ripped inward. But none of them are the same size, unless that kid brought a whole butcher shop out with him in those woods." Ray said, quickly jotting down some notes.

Jason looked at the coat closer, trying to make out Ray's frantically scribbled handwriting on the yellow notepad.

"That would indicate an animal attack, gored by claws. But these are too clean, too precise, unlike anything I have ever seen or read about.” Ray said, almost as if he was thinking out loud, shocked at his own words as they left his mouth.

"Ray," Jason belted out.

Ray snapped out of his trance, his head still spinning quietly.

"I came here because need to know if I can somehow connect these two incidents, the hotel and this one, do you still have those photos we developed?"

Ray nodded, his mind working far too quickly to manage any words.

“Would you be able to, I don’t know….to compare those marks on the wall at the suite with these here?" Jason asked, his thick finger pressing down on the coat, the flakes of dried blood cracking.

"Well it could be possible," Ray said, thinking. "But I'd need to know the dimensions of this wall, otherwise it could be anyone's guess, and I'm sure Sanders already tore that whole room out."

Jason thought for a moment, "I've got it," he said, pulling his badge from his coat. "Here, Ray, take this, go to that same level, all the rooms in that block are pretty much the same design, I've been up there for enough domestic disturbance calls that I probably damn near know the layout of every room in that place. Take this badge up and have them let you in a vacant room. We're far enough out in the season that there should at least be 1 or 2. That would get you the measurements right?" Jason asked, eyeing Ray's face, frantically waiting for a response.

"I..." Ray stammered, thinking to himself. "Yeah...that could work." he said taking the badge from Jason's outreaching hand.

"Great," Jason said, turning to leave, he stuffed the coat back in the bag, hiding it under Ray's desk.

"Sheriff," Ray spoke up.

"Yeah?" Jason asked, his back still to Ray.

"Be careful who you trust." Ray said sternly.

"What?" Jason asked, looking back, walking towards Ray.

"One of your officers, Billings, he's working with Sanders, that much I do know, I don't know how many others."

Jason stood staring angrily. Silent, he thought over this new information, he had had his suspicions, but the confirmation hit him deep.

Ray waited for another episode out of Jason, surely one that would lead to him cleaning up his stuff once more, but nothing happened.

Jason simply said, "Thanks Ray, radio me when you have something. I need to go talk to Elroy"

"One more thing Sheriff, Whatever did this-," Ray said, pointing to the bag, "It punched clean through. Clean through in one strike. If there is something out there, it’s big, damn big. Pissed off too. Take care of your family Sheriff, stay safe."

"Same to you Ray," Jason said. He turned opening the door, quietly he said to himself, "Same to you.”

Chapter 31

Jason opened the old creaking double doors to the hospital. Alivia at the reception desk caught his eye immediately. Her arms held closely to her, trying to retain whatever warmth they could manage. Her thick, plush sweater hung over her thin, feminine fingers. A magazine lay folded out on the desk, absorbed in her tabloid, she hadn’t noticed Jason come in.

For a moment, Jason considered warning her, telling her to stay in her house, stay safe.

Quietly, he pondered his motive for this, was it merely him warning another human being of danger, keeping another life safe?

Why?

He reassured himself of this, but something gnawed at him something deeper in the recesses of his mind. Could he be that sure? Was it because of some ulterior motive? Self reassurance seeking only worsened his doubt of himself and his mind. Of course he didn’t love her, didn’t want Alivia. He had a wife that he loved, two kids that were his world. He didn’t want anything in his life that could destroy, decimate even, his entire life and everyone in it. But a fraction of thought in the back of his mind said that on the loneliest of nights, the fights, the yelling, sometimes he would drift away, think of the solace, the comfort that only the warmth of this beautiful woman held at his side would create.

His mind raced. Was this really how he thought how he felt? Of course not, he yelled in his mind, trying to drown out the gnawing, incessant words of the doubt his mind persistently put forth. He wanted, needed himself to be the good guy, the crippling self doubt that ate away at his conscious, his peace of mind, could all be washed away if he could live a good life, could be a good man. But the fears of what he might do, if he should falter, crippled him with self doubt and anxiety any moment he lay too still to be able to think.

Snapping out of his daze, his introspective fear and doubt, he looked up to see that Alivia was staring at him, a concerned look born on her face.

“Everything alright Sheriff?” her soft, breathy voice brushed over his ears. Every word seemed to exit on the wings of a gentle exhale.

Jason nodded, walking forward without saying anything. If he stayed away, there would be no doubt, no second guessing. He shook away these foolish thoughts, snapping back into reality. There were far more pressing matters than his private wallowing in self pity and doubt. He cringed and hated himself for being so foolish, so juvenile. Seeing the Doc, he took the opportunity to allow himself to occupy his mind with something, anything, something other than this foolishness.

“Hey Doc,” Jason started, but he stopped, something was off.

“What had I come in here for again Goddammit?!” Jason thought to himself, he hated the doubt, the second guessing. He was old but he wasn’t slipping, not yet, he was fine, just fine.

“Oh, hello Sheriff,” James said, turning around. Peeling off his latex gloves with an audible, “Snap!” He balled them up and discarded them into a nearby waste basket.

“I am sorry, I know you were hoping to question the patient. But I had to send him home,” James said, not bothering to look up at Jason, strolling over to his desk, he kicked his feet up and started fumbling with his pipe.

Jason, still trying to get his mind back in order, stammered for a minute.

“Patient?…Elroy? You sent Elroy home? What the fuck for?! You said he needed fingers amputated, and you “just decided” to send him home?” Jason shouted out in utter confusion, stammering with his words.

The Doc shrugged as he lit his pipe, “Hew wu prfc…..” The pipe muffled his words, shaking his head, he pulled the old wood pipe from his mouth, thin wispy smoke rising upward.

“He was perfectly stable, no sense in keeping him here. As for the fingers, yes they did come off, but that man was an army medic, so I gave him a bottle of painkillers and the necessary bandages and sent him on his way.” Casually, James went back to puffing on his pipe, feet kicked back in utter contentment.

Jason stared at the Doc dumbfounded, he couldn’t imagine in any scenario where anyone who had just had a surgery done would be casually sent on their way. He opened his mouth to reason with James, ready to let fly an onslaught of obscenities, of his anger that he had held in, the frustration he couldn’t deal with. But, he stopped himself, he knew where Elroy was and James wasn’t of much use anyway. Turning to leave, he stopped.

“Wait, Doc, where’s Clark?” he said, turning his head as he scanned the room.

“Oh!” The Doc exclaimed, standing up, he pulled the pipe from his mouth. “I was meaning to tell you that. He collapsed after you left, before I could do anything he stormed out, someone needs to go check on him Sheriff. But I can’t leave.”

Jason’s stomach swirled, his chest an acidic pit of anxiety.

“Oh Shit.” he hissed out under his breath, turning, he jogged out the door, he burst through the heavy double doors out into the snow that still fell heavily from the white sky.

Outside, Jason fumbled with the keys to his jeep, cursing himself as they fluttered from his clumsy hands, spiraling downward into the soft powdered snow.

Searching frantically, he scoured the snow with his hands blindly, every passing minute seemed like an hour. Jason’s hands at last produced the keys from the mass of white. Holding them in his hands, he took his time, shaking the dry, cold powder, that clung to his keys and his freezing hands.

His wheels spinning angrily in the slush and ice, he raced down the road. He told himself it was nothing, wanted to believe it was nothing, but the past made him doubt every word his mind produced. Nervously, he told himself it made sense to go to Clark’s house, after all Elroy’s cabin was just a few house’s down from Clark’s. He’d just go check on a citizen in his town, after all, a good Sheriff takes care of his people. Nodding to himself, he swallowed his lie, staving off the pressing, bitter anxiety that demanded to be dealt with.

No reason to fear, he said to himself, nothing out of the ordinary. But the screech of his wheels as he nearly slid into Clark’s front yard convinced him otherwise. Bursting from the cab of his Jeep, he trudged through the snow in long, panicked strides.

Wildly, he pounded on Clark’s door, he wouldn’t let this happen again, not again.

“Clark!” he shouted, his cold hands begging for him to stop the percussive frenzy he was unleashing on the warped wooden door. “Are you in there Clark?!” “It’s me Jason, open the door Clark!”

Audibly, he heard the latch click, the door struggled to be opened from behind, it’s twisted shape jammed into the doorway protested its movement as it popped free. Clark stood in the doorway, squinting at Jason, the sea of white outside blinding Clark as it illuminated the darkness of his cabin.

Jason’s panic melted away as he was greeted by the warmth of Clark’s cabin, his friend was alright, thank god, he was alright.

“Something you need Jason?” Clark asked, puzzled by the raging noise that had brought him outside.

“Just uh….” Jason stuttered, realizing now, how foolish he had looked in his panic, “Just checking up, Doc’s orders…said you collapsed and took off ‘fore he could move, you alright?”

Clark thought for a moment, his eyes studying the snowy trees in the distance. Taking a deep breath in, he looked back at Jason.

“Yeah…..Yes I am.” he said confidently, relishing his own words as he said them. “Come on in, I’ll put a pot of coffee on.” Clarks said, opening the doorway wider, gesturing to Jason.

Jason, hands on his knees, still trying to catch his breath, obliged. Following Clark into the old, creaking cabin, he swung the crooked door shut behind him.

Chapter 32

Elroy, lay in his bed, shivering. The thick, wool quilt draped over him, his two remaining fingers clenched the warm fabric tightly, each movement caught the bandage on the old fraying material causing it to shift. But he paid it no mind, he had loaded up on the Doc’s meds and his pain had all but disappeared. Well, besides his arm that still burned faintly, a light, stinging sensation, like small embers just below his skin, refusing to go out.

His arm. Where that, that thing had stabbed him. That monster, that thing that had killed his only remaining family left in this world. Everett’s writhing, thrashing body was still fresh on his mind, the blood. Oh..God, there had been so much blood. Elroy shivered underneath the quilt, the warm material enveloped him in its safety, it’s glow. It had kept the cold of the elements outside at bay. But the chill of what he had seen still sat rooted deeply, chilling his bones as he shook.

Staring at the empty bed across from him, he pondered what he would do next. It was funny, he thought, he had spent his whole life in recent memory, imagining, fantasizing, about what his life would be like, if he were alone, were free from the handicap of his drunk of a cousin. But now, as he sat in silence, he realized his life, all he knew, revolved around Everett, taking care of him. Dodging his drunken fists as he sponged the dry sick off his clothes, turning him on his side, wiping the drool and vomit from his lips so he wouldn’t choke to death on his own bile. But now he was gone, gone forever like everyone else he had the misfortune of knowing.

He stared at the snowy, fogged window just above Everett’s old bed, night closing in just outside. He could remember a time when the best moments of his life were gazing out that window as Everett slept below, his only few moments of peace. How he would stare out into the vast expanse of the mountains, of the wilderness. Wondering what awaited him, what he could do, what he could be if he ever mustered the courage he so desperately pined for, to be able to not care, to get up, to leave, to think and live for himself.

He sighed quietly, his breath breaking the silence of the dark cabin. Now he could do just that, could do anything he wanted, but he didn’t care, didn’t want it after all.

Just down the street, only a few houses away, Jason sat on Clark’s old ragged sofa, glancing into the crack of the open door that sat just a few feet from the couch, peering into Clark’s room. He could just make out the stale carnage that lay strewn about the floor and the bed. He heard footsteps approaching him from behind.

“Well I hope you take it black Jason, I’m fresh out of milk.” He heard Clark’s familiar voice behind him.

“Only black for me.” he replied blankly, his stare still fixed on the wrecked room through the thin crack of the door.

The glass of the two mugs clinked together, Clark’s shaking hand set them down on the old worn coffee table. It was then that Jason saw the blood soaking through the ragged, dirty bandage on Clark’s hand as he filled the mugs, steam misting up over his wounded fingers.

“Christ.” Jason said, wincing at the wound.

“What the hell happened Clark? Is that…Is that glass?” Jason stared, picking up the lone mug that now rested on the table, “And what the hell happened in there?” He continued, gesturing to the room.

Clark sat in the armchair adjacent to the sofa. Resting the mug on the armrest he sat, wincing as he picked shards of glass from his dripping hand.

“Well,” he started, his voice gruff. “I’ve finally gotten around to getting rid of some of Cass’s old stuff, and one of those damn, frilly vases she had shattered on me,” he continued, not looking up from his wounded hand as he pulled the jagged shards out.

Jason saw through this lie almost immediately, but, he didn’t press further, his friend was alright, and that was all that mattered at this moment.

“Damn,” Jason said, shaking his head as he brought his cup to his mouth, the steam depositing small beads of water in the whiskers of his unshaven, tired face.

He chuckled to himself, “You know…Sandy’s got this damn uh…watcha call it…Replica, of the Eiffel tower, you know that big ‘ole building they got in…France? Well anyway I hate the damn thing already,” Jason laughed to himself, sipping his coffee. “She keeps it above our fireplace at home, says it’s good to know about other cultures or some shit like that.”

“So, I get home from work one day, freezing my ass off and I go to get a fire going. I grab the matches off the top of the mantel and that thing comes crashing down right on top of my fucking head.” Jason laughed again, Clark chuckled, his eyes now looking at Jason, his wounded hand forgotten, if just for a moment.

“I wasn’t laughing then I’ll tell you Clark, That thing must be cast out of solid steel,” Jason laughed again, “Cause that thing hurt like a bitch. So…I..” Jason stuttered, catching breaths under his laugh. “I lit the fire and I chucked that son of a bitch in there.”

Clark laughed, “Oh shit.” his mind relaxed. The sanctuary of the past rubbed the knots of tension out of his worn muscles.

“You’re telling me” Jason laughed, “So Sandy, I’ve never heard her scream so loud in my life right? So next thing I know, she’s over there, she’s got her oven mitts on and she’s fishing around in there trying to grab the thing out.”

Clark struggled to catch his breath as Jason continued.

“So, she snatches it out, and next thing I know, she’s chasing me around the room with this fuckin’ red hot chunk of metal, and the kids are hollering and I’m running around trying to get away and I’m knocking shit over, and the dog’s barking and losing his shit. A fucking sight to see man I’m telling you.” Jason’s laughter was nearly thunderous now, Clark’s loud laughter joining him right alongside.

Slowly, the laughter died out. They sat quietly in a comfortable silence, nothing being said, but no hurry to break the peaceful silence.

Elroy stirred in his bed. There was no way he had imagined that one, he listened intently, he heard it again, the scratching, the noises that he couldn’t explain, and didn’t want to know the source. His eyes shut tightly, he tried to reenter his peaceful sleep, but the beating of his panicked heart grew more rapid by the second. The pounding echoed off the insides of his skull, refusing his mind’s terrified pleas to be allowed to rest.

Then, he heard it, the window, the one he had stared out for countless hours before, his window into a better life, his dreams. The scratching, not the noise the tree branches made guided by the wind’s gentle hands on the chilly air of a breezy winter night. The horrifying noise he now heard, dug into every inch of his cringing body. Long, constant scrapes, like nails on a chalkboard, the sound was nauseating. He clenched his eyes shut, his quilt gripped tightly in his one remaining fist. He wouldn’t look, he refused, didn’t want to see, didn’t want to know.

The noise continued, scratching, perpetually gnawing at his mind until all that was left was the echoing of the sound in his ears. Consumed by his fear, his stomach a pit of nausea and terror, he wrenched open his eyes, paralyzed in fear by what he saw.

There, in the old faded window, just mere feet from his bed, was the creatures face. It’s razor sharp teeth snarled, it’s hideous snout covering the old window in a thick steaming fog.

Elroy tried to shout, to scream, but the fear that now held him had stolen his voice away.

Jason and Clark stood on Clark’s porch cigarettes in hand, the foul smell of the tobacco floating away into the pristine chill of the night air.

“No, No, I’ve got a better one,” Clark said, “Thanksgiving, Shit I don’t know, God Damn, too many years.” Clark laughed, half sighed to himself. “You read somewhere…Shit what was it,” Clark said, smiling to himself as he thought. “You read that if you cut a turkey in half, it would cook twice as fast,”

Jason spoke up for himself, “Hey it worked didn’t it?” he said laughing.

“Shit Jason, I’m not saying it didn’t work but who’s bright idea was it to try and cut a frozen turkey in half? We couldn’t do it, so you went and grabbed your handsaw from the shed?” Clark said laughing.

“Not one of my smarter moments eh Clark?” Jason said, chuckling.

“Hell it probably would have worked if we would have remembered to wash it off first, We sit down to eat and the whole thing tastes like we’re taking a bite out of a 2x4.” Clark said.

Laughing loudly, Jason tried desperately to suck in some of the night air to regain his breath.

“What about…Clark…” He struggled, his words short as he gasped for air, struggling to stop laughing. “What about that time..”

Down the street, the sound of something big hitting solid wood echoed throughout the night, cutting both the men’s voices off immediately.

“Shit,” Jason whispered to himself, tossing the smoldering cigarette he held into the snow, hopping over the porch’s railing, “Come on Clark!”

Clark joined him on his side, jogging towards the source of the noise. “What the hell do you think that was?” he yelled to Jason, a few feet in front of him.

“My guess is a fucking car. Goddammit, people never learn, what do they expect trying to drive in this shit. Let’s just hope everyone’s ok, sounds like it hit a house.” Jason shouted back. Fog rose from his mouth with each word into the cold air. They continued down the street as fast as the thick snow would allow them.

“Clark!” he shouted back, “Can you go back to your house and grab my radio? It’s on your tab..” Jason stopped dead in his tracks.

“What in the fuck.” Jason whispered to himself.

Clark joined him, “What’d you say Jas…” He stopped dead in his tracks, he had seen it. “Mother of God.” his voice quiet, he froze.

Jason and Clark squinted in the darkness, frozen in shock. On the side yard of the house in the darkness was something big. Something alive. In the dark, Jason frantically searched his vest for his flashlight, pulling it out, he lit it, shining it on the mass. The men both nearly vomited when they saw.

A massive, dog like, monstrous creature was hunched over. Shattered glass and splintered wood was strewn around it. They didn’t have to see anything to know that it was eating something. The primitive snapping of bones and sickening sound of tearing flesh hung heavily on the air.

“Jason, shoot that thing, shoot the fucker!”

Jason snapped out of his trance for a moment, struggling with his revolver, he dropped the flashlight, shining on the beast through the snow. As he pointed the weapon at the creature, Clark shouted to the side of him in a frenzied panic.

“Oh fuck. Jason, that’s Elroy Becker’s house!”

Jason’s cold, shaking fingers struggled to pull the hammer back in the darkness, Clark snatched the flashlight off the ground quickly, illuminating the matted hair of the creature standing on end in the darkness.

Suddenly, it turned to face them. Its menacing eyes stared deep into the men, a guttural growl bellowed out from its teeth.

“Oh shit! Jason shoot!” Clark said, facing the ungodly creature that growled and roared as fresh blood dripped from its hideous teeth.

The gun went off in the darkness, the flash of the gunpowder illuminating the sides of the houses, the shot burrowed itself harmlessly into the thick logs of the cabin just to the side of the creature. The beast growled at them, a deep, threatening growl as steam rose from it’s bloody kill below.

Snatching up Elroy from the ground, or what was left of him, the creature bounded off into the woods, with a speed and a movement that seemed almost otherworldly. Jason managed to pop off 5 more shots as the creature fled, but all to no avail. The shots, random and poorly executed, hit the surrounding trees, sending drifts of snow cascading downward that swirled throughout the night air slowly, creating almost a thin fog that floated down the trees, the beast disappearing into the night through it.

Jason’s holstered his gun, panting. Clark shone the light on the side of the cabin, the cabin was nearly destroyed. A gaping hole surrounded by splintered wood and water spraying, pipes broken hung rusted, icing the ruined floor of the cabin with the slush that poured down.

A bloody mess lay on the snow. Steam still rising from the site of a fresh kill.

Doors in the neighborhood began to open, people came outside, muttering to themselves. The people adorned with the combination of their pajamas and winter coats as they stumbled through the snow, squinting in the darkness, they tried to make sense of the commotion they had heard unfold outside.

Clark turned to Jason, “We’re going to have some explaining to do here Jason.”

Jason turned back to the cabin, “No Clark, when these people see this, they’re gonna want to know, want to know what happened, what that was, if they’re safe. But the truth is, there ain’t a goddamn word I could say to them that could explain this.”

Chapter 33

The townspeople trudged through the thick snow, winter coats pulled haphazardly over their robes, clutching their sides tightly. The cold bit at their exposed flesh, searching for a way in.

Jason rushed out into the street, his boots struggling on the icy undercoating of the snow that blanketed the street.

“Everyone stay back!” Jason shouted, his arms stretched outward, palms open. Smoke still wafted from the hot barrel of his empty revolver that sat in his holster. Ripping his radio from his side, he turned around, tossing it to Clark.

“Clark, shit. Hurry and radio Macklin, tell him we need him over here now!”

Jason turned back to the crowd, “We’ve had a gas leak, please stay back.”

The crowd now stood right next to Jason, some standing on their toes, trying to catch a glimpse of the wreckage that stood in the house behind him.

“I said back! Everyone, its not safe!” The crowd continued as if they had not heard him, their eyes locked on the house in the darkness, trying to make something out.

“Goddammit,” Jason said to himself, loading a round into his revolver, he extended his arm into the air, firing. The crowd jumped back, startled at the noise, some cursed at Jason. “I said it’s a gas leak goddammit!, another explosion could happen again at any minute!”

“Well if it was an explosion, how come there ain’t no smoke?” a voice said in the crowd, the darkness obscuring his face.

Jason grew angry, frustrated at his embarrassingly hollow lie. “We can sit here and ask questions all night while your house could be filling up with the stuff as we speak!” Jason shouted to the mass of people in the dark.

The people grumbled in disbelief, Jason’s scare tactic was obvious and the crowd wasn’t buying it.

“Come on Sheriff you expect us to believe that bullshit? Tell us what’s happening! We have a right to know.” the same voice shouted from the crowd.

His mind raced, still in shock and reeling from what he had seen, Jason was out of answers. But these people were panicked, scared, and needed something to believe.

“A bear,” Jason said quietly, shaking his head. They would never buy it.

As empty and as weak of a lie as it was, the crowd muttered to themselves, their voices fearful and panicked. Some tried desperately to catch a glimpse of the house in the distance, hidden by the darkness.

Jason looked up in shock. He took his opportunity, “Yeah…., a bear, the one that ad was posted about. We found him out here tearing at the side, I didn’t want to scare anyone. I’m sorry. Go home and look after your families, we’ll get this cleaned up by the morning.”

Slowly, the crowd murmured to themselves as they began to disperse, some yelled back to their houses, their children peering out through the door.

Jason exhaled loudly, relieved. But another voice quickly silenced the crowd.

“No bear.” A gruff, deep voice said, somewhere near the back of the crowd. Peter Marris. An old man now, had lived in the further reaches of the town, longer than anyone else could remember. “Some thing, some creature I ain’t never seen in these hills.” his gruff voice rumbled again.

What was left of the crowd stood silent as they stared at Pete, no one knew him well enough to be a judge, but he had been here longer than anyone else, and the mountain would do things to your mind. Everyone knew that. They couldn’t imagine what havoc it had wreaked on this old man’s consciousness in the years he had called this desolate place home.

“Well thank you Pete, but I can assure you that it was. A big old grizz.” Jason tried to play off the scare tactics he had used prior once again, this crowd needed to get out of here fast before they started asking too many questions. “Now Pete, if you think you have any information for us that could assist us, go ahead and come by the station tomorrow.”

“But as for everyone else, Me and the rest of the boys have our work cut out for us for tonight and I don’t wanna make my wife worry for any longer than she has to alright? So you folks would be doing us a service if you could show yourselves back to your houses, we’ll have this cleaned up by morning.”

The crowd began to leave as he could begin to make out headlights down the road. “Shit,” he thought, turning to run and meet the car, “The lights.”

“Clark, make sure everyone stays back or leaves, I’m gonna go meet Macklin.” he said, jogging away, his strides high and strained as he struggled to move through the thick snow that fell softly from the black sky.

Clark nodded, turning back to the few that remained as they began to lose interest and trekked back to their warm homes, ushering their children quickly back inside.

Jason met the cruiser running to the drivers window. “Macklin, cut the lights…” his voice stopped.

The driver was not Macklin, but instead Jason was instead met with the old, angry eyes of Billings.

“Gary?” Jason asked, confused. “Where’s Macklin?”

“Fuck if I know where that little bitch is, I still had my radio on, thought I’d come down…” Billings said, his face obscured in the darkness of the cab.

Ray’s words ran across Jason’s mind as he stared into the car. He didn’t want this Sanders piece of shit anywhere near this, but if he did anything now Billings would know what he knew.

“Well Gary,” Jason said, trying to keep his tone as civil as possible. “It’s quite a shame actually, as far as me and Clark over there figure, seems a bear got a little to close to our friend Elroy Becker, busted up his windows and hauled him off. We haven’t gotten a chance to look any closer, but fuck, it ain’t going to be pretty in there.”

Billings stared forward squinting. “That piece of shit Davis is over there?” his voice annoyed, angry. He sat back in his chair as he pulled the car out of park.

Jason breathed a sigh of relief. He was distracted enough not to ask any questions. Same as Gary ever was, only worrying about himself.

“Well me and him were chatting when we heard this noise” Jason said, pulling the conversation even further away, “We came out here just in time to see that God damn bear drag poor Elroy off into the woods, we figure it must have busted in his sliding door.

Billings sat in a malicious silence, mulling over whatever it was his dim mind could manage to entertain with the rusty hamster wheel that powered it.

“I got almost everyone to leave, head up their, block it off Gary,” Jason said, breaking the silence.

Without a word, Billings revved his car forward in the snow, the cracked tires churning out blackened snow as they crawled forward.

Jason turned facing the taillights, the soft red glow shining into his eyes as they rolled away.

“Motherfucker.”

Chapter 34

"Clark shut the door." Jason said, pulling open his desk drawers frantically, fumbling with the contents.

Clark swung the door shut, struggling to fit the knotted lumber into the frame before finally popping the door into place with an audible slide and pop.

"Jason," Clark exhaled, as he kicked his boots together breaking free the snow that clung to the fibers of his jeans, the melted clumps showering down upon the faded linoleum. "What in the hell was.....IS that thing? I mean...Oh god, I mean Elroy Jason....Jesus."

Jason offered little than a grunt of acknowledgment that could be heard over the rustling of papers in his drawers as he searched. The scouring of his desk was concluded with a loud "Ah.." as Jason pulled a large bottle from it. Setting the thick glass down on the desk, collapsing into his chair, he poured his whiskey.

The amber liquid cascaded downward into the foggy glass. His mind a blur of questions and worries he could never hope to silence. Clutching the glass he took comfort in the burn of the liquid as it warmed his throat, numbing his mind, if only for a moment. Clark's voice echoed obscurely somewhere, Jason sat in his chair his eyes fixed on the cracked paint that hung dully on the walls.

"Did you see their faces?" Jason asked, almost to himself.

"What?" Clark said, confused, he walked up closer, trying to get Jason's line of sight, his attention, his face concerned.

"Fear, I mean real fear..." Jason took another long drink from his glass, twirling the lukewarm liquid around in the glass. "I've never seen anything so terrifying....I mean, somethings have come close. Some poor girl getting beat on by the piece of shit she's shacked up with, a mother's eyes when I have to tell her she won't hear her boy's voice no more."

Jason's eyes looked but they didn't see, he was fathoms deep in the darkness of his mind, the questions he asked but never really waned an answer, the thoughts he contemplated but couldn't even begin to question.

"But God, I've never seen that kind of fear in someone's eyes, those people out there, they knew, they knew that I knew, maybe they don't quite understand, or maybe they just know, deep down, that I couldn’t possibly have an answer."

Jason looked up at Clark, snapping back into the reality he knew, his eyes met Clark's with a intense fearfulness, "We're in trouble Clark, We are in serious trouble."

Clark stared off, his questions roared inside his own mind quietly.

"I can't do it, I can't." Jason said to himself. "How the hell could I? You saw that thing Clark, the way it moved, the size of it, how can I go out there and tell people with a straight face that they are safe?"

"We get the officers," Clark said, "We go out there and we kill that thing Jason, what do you mean what do we do?"

"Those men have families Clark, kids, how can I send them out there after that, that thing? Even if they did believe me Sanders has got people in my department, they'll shut me down, fire me.”

Clark wanted to turn away, as much as he enjoyed witnessing someone wallow in self pity, seeing someone as strong as Jason lose hope was a little more than disheartening.

“My family Clark…..I still have to feed my family.” Jason breathed out to himself, his eyes locked on the floor.

"Jason if someone sees that thing at the resort or down here at town nobody's family is gonna be safe…Ain’t no one gonna be able to live here anymore, last year wasn't exactly a success if I remember right…..and if people start leaving this early, we're gonna be in bigger trouble. Cause we’re gonna starve to death long before that thing gets to us.” Clark said, pulling a chair up to the desk and sitting down leaning in.

“Jason. We're gonna bring in all the officers tomorrow.” Clark hit his hand hard down onto the desk, stealing Jason’s attention. “We tell them what's happening and we get up there and start trapping and stalking that thing, Sander's can't say anything, they know what's happening already, a bear? They knew about that thing I'm willing to bet. They knew about it and they sent us out to go kill it, like a fucking guinea pig.”

Jason’s eyes looked up, the faintest ember visible in his eyes transformed into a roaring inferno by the second.

“Son of a bitch Clark, You may be right” Jason’s voice had returned to an infectious confidence, he sat up straighter in his chair, mulling the idea over in his swirling mind.

“They wouldn’t do anything that would make them lose money, hell, there are even a couple boys that hate Sanders more than I do, they'll be out there for anything if it means defying those bastards, even if they are freezing their asses off." Jason said standing up.

“I think it's just about time I took back my town.”

Chapter 35

There are moments when the silence of the world is….in a word, uncomfortable. Suffocating even.

It presses on the ears with its absence of sound, the inner recesses of the mind begging for a noise, a sound, a minute whimper of an audible note.

The town of Whiteridge sat embalmed in this silence. Gone were the familiar sounds of the frozen woods, the chirps and barks of its creatures. The sun shone downward, but didn't warm, didn't melt away the frozen clusters of ice that clung to every fiber of the thick trees. The wind didn't howl, or rustle the pines. The cones didn't fall, didn't tumble downward, tumble down through the nest of branches bounding off the timber it struck, sending it off on in sudden erratic changes in its course, its journey ever changing.

The faded blue tarp hung limply over the Becker house. The absence of wind forced the lifeless fabric to hang dully, depressed. The frayed material hung from nails driven into the roof as haphazardly and as quickly as Clark could do it, for fear he would slip and fall off the icy roof, and that whatever was out there would come back. The icy dirt lay bare, exposed on the side of the house, its white covering stripped away.

The melted snow and blood stained the rug just inside the gaping hole in the house. Jason had figured Elroy wasn't too concerned about the carpet now,and it was better than too many people asking questions, or worse, panic.

A stray deer now stood inside, its tongue lapping up the salty liquid that soaked into the fibers of the carpet. Standing in the silence, the animal relished the perfect calm. No sound to perk its ears, no reason to run, to fear.

The two men lay asleep in the office. Clark sprawled out on the sofa, his damp coat stretched over him. Jason sat back in his desk chair, head knocked back, his hand resting on his stomach. His dry, cracked fingers interlocked as they rose and fell with each breath. His camouflage ball cap hung over his tired eyes, rustling his gray whiskers as it slid down.

Someone, popping open the warped wood of the door, jolted both men awake violently.

Jason bolted upward in his chair, his eyes, weary with sleep met Macklin's,

“Macklin what are you-….Oh God....My neck," Jason rubbed at his howling muscles, trying to wipe the sleep from his eyes.

Clark laughed to himself, "I've had worse nights of sleep" he said, his arms stretched out as he yawned, his voice distorted with fatigue.

"I saw your Jeep outside sheriff, didn't think anyone would be here this early," Macklin said, steam rolling from his coffee in his hand.

"Yeah," Jason mumbled out through a cigarette, his hands patting his coat, "Well I didn't exactly plan on it if that makes you feel any better,." Lighting his cigarette, he rubbed at his neck, his fingers winced at the plethora of knots plaguing his neck. An amount of knots and tangles that could only have come from a night spent on a wooden desk chair.

"God dammit," Jason stood up, extinguishing the light on his boot, "I better call my wife.." His boots clomping hard on the floor as he rushed out of the room.

"Well, what happened last night to you two?" Macklin asked, his voice somber, his eyes staring off.

Clark's heart sunk, the fog of the early morning had staved off the events of yesterday from his mind if only for a brief moment. "I... I think it would be easier for you just to see for yourself kid.”

Jason walked back in the room, the spiraled cord of the phone dragging behind him, the elastic spool of wires bounding up and down with each step.

“Well, Sandy’s pissed." Jason said dully, his mind elsewhere. The events of the previous night had obviously graced his conscious with a reminder of their existence, his face morose, his eyes stared off, thinking to himself.

"And you Macklin, where the hell were you yesterday? breaking out of the haze, Jason demanded, "I call you and I get that piece of shit Billings,"

Jason dropped the phone, it clattered to the ground, the leash of its cord pulling it backward over the carpet as it slid out of the room.

"What you think you can just take the night off? Too cold out for you?" Jason's breaking point screamed for mercy from the weight that now pressed down on it.

Macklin's eyes stared down at the floor, his gaze seemed it would set the floor alight any second with its intensity.

Jason continued, "You should've saved me some time when I hired you, let me know ahead of time, that you were some…25 year old irresponsible jerk off, who wasn't good for nothing. Maybe saved me a little time.

Clark spoke up, he could sit through no more. "Hey Jason that's enough! What the hell is your deal?”

Macklin turned his head up slowly, his eyes meeting Jason, threatening to melt them right out of their sockets. His eyes held a fury that a young man's eyes shouldn't know.

"My problem?!" Jason continued his tirade, "I'm trying to teach a little responsibility to this pissant, he turned back to Macklin, inches from his face, he seemed to spit each word as if it were venom, its bite harsh and unforgiving, "You see....boy. When you-"

Macklin's fist met Jason's eye socket, cutting his words off at the root. An audible crack surged through the room, sending Jason stumbling backward into the wall. The thin panel board that covered the walls caved in with a loud crunch.

Jason's wide, strong back sunk deep into the wall, a old rusted pipe met his spine, narrowly stopping him from bursting into the adjacent room. Jason let out an audible grunt, the wind escaping his lungs as he hit it. Scrambling to his feet, he cocked his fist back turning to charge at Macklin.

Clark slammed hard into Jason, pushing him up against the wall, the faded paneling popping and cracking from the pressure.

"That's enough!" Clark yelled, his words laced with spit, inches from Jason's face, "This type of shit doesn't solve nothing!”

"You better get off me Clark" Jason hissed back, his eyes a special glaze of sleep deprivation and alcohol.

Jason was bigger, but even he never contested the fact that Clark could damn well hold his own in just about any scrap he could find himself him.

Jason clenched his fist tight and wrenched it free, he shoved Clark back, and began to swing out when his eyes locked on Macklin. He lowered his fist, the young man, standing opposite from him, stood trembling quietly, his fist shook and his eyes were wide, staring off in a perpetual stasis of morose.

The sight of this, and the dull throbbing of his back muscles, violently coddled Jason back into reality.

"Macklin...I..what am I...doing....God damn. My back." Jason breathed out, stepping toward Macklin.

Clark eyed him suspiciously, whether as a precaution or because his tired eyes begged to rest on something.

"Macklin I'm sorry, I... I don't know what got into me...I.." Jason stumbled with his words, embarrassed, but the turmoil still spun inside his mind, begging for an outlet.

Macklin's voice shook as profusely as his outstretched fist, "Sheriff, I'm...Oh god, I'm so sorry."

Jason spoke up, "Macklin I was way out of line, it's my fault.”

Macklin fell back into the chair behind him, his hands rubbing his eyes, kneading the sleep from them. "My wife...we lost our baby last night."

Jason's heart sunk, "Macklin I'm...Oh God, I'm sorry." Jason sunk into his chair, spinning aimlessly on the rusted wheels.

Wrought with guilt and confusion, Jason stared out the window. The early morning light just crossing the peaks of the mountains, illuminating the fallen snow, the sun shimmered off of their white crystals. The towering, ominous pines swayed in the chill of the morning air. Swaying back and forth, the tall husks of lumber stirred. Menacingly almost, they moved. The army of pines surrounded the town, commanded by their celestial general. They moved in perfect unison, creaking back and forth in the silence of the snow. An army, circling, moving in on its enemy.

Chapter 36

Howard Bell stretched out in his armchair,yawning. The sleep on his breath emanated chills that cascaded down his sides. This ground level suite he sat in, was graced with a large window providing a view of the surrounding forest. It was unlike him to have a smaller suite such as this he now resided in, but he had taken the room as a last effort to return to his roots. His latest works had been, lackluster to say the least. Hollow attempts to connect with the readers he had lost and his followers saw straight through it.

Washed up, a footnote, all the things they had called him, the things he’d read in the papers.

He had always hated the cold, the unforgiving bite of the snow.

“Poetic in a way,” he thought to himself, “That something so beautiful would carry the harshest sting.”

But, it was his only recently failing career that had forced him outside of his comfort zone into these jagged, icy mountains, and hopefully, he thought, back into the nebula of prosperity his career had once been.

It had come to him late at night, so late he hardly had the energy to scrawl down a few barely legible sentences before he dozed off. The setting for his next book, one that would draw him back into the light. A period piece, not his typical bread and butter but it was risks like this that great art was made from.

A deserting Union soldier during the civil war, lost in the pursuit of his destination, untouched by the ravages of war, takes up refuge from a blizzard in a small cabin. The sole owner, a beautiful southern belle by the name of Anna. Of course these forlorn individuals were destined to fall madly in love, the danger and scandal of this forbidden affair only fueling the burning passion between these two lost souls.

“God.” he thought to himself, “It’s garbage, utter trash.” Disgusted with himself, he flung his coffee mug across the room, the ceramics shattered on the gloss of the thick wood beams of the room.

Sitting back in his chair he lit a cigarette. It had always been in the back of his mind, though he wouldn’t always acknowledge it. He realized now that part of him hoped to die when he had made the journey up here. He was after all nearing the better part of 60.

A cold perhaps, or age. If he just drifted off in his sleep, little more than a shrug or head shaken in pity would await his memory if he did. No reason to suspect a thing.

“I am after all an old man,” he had thought as he packed his bags. Anxious to get away, anxious to leave his world, the world he scorned. The ex wives.

“Wives” he chuckled to himself, “Nothing more than shrieking vultures, their beaks dripping with saliva, waiting to pick my corpse clean.” His adopted children were no better, all awaiting a piece of his pie.

He stood up, his feet shuffled in his slippers. Discernible veins pulsating and writhing with his steps. Pulling a tin from his trunk he produced his pills, a flask of gin was next. Shuffling back to his warm seat he stared out over the vastness, the seemingly endless cloud covered mountain tops that stretched out for miles. “I might as well have something to look at as I go.” he said, settling down in his chair. Holding the pills in his frail wrinkled hand, he took a deep breath.

A man appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, pounding on the window, his hands soaked in blood, streaked across the clean glass. The noise had caused Howard to jump, the pills fell from his hands and rolled on the floor.

“Oh God, You need to let me in!” The man pleaded, his face distorted with fear that he had never seen the likes of in his 60 years.

Howard trembled, his body shook from fear and the age that plagued it. Frantically, he looked back and forth, his mind raced, searching desperately for a way to help.

“Oh God, there it is! Hurry!” The man shrieked again, pleading with him through the glass.

Howard trembled, paralyzed by fear, he saw it. Just at the edge of the woods, an enormous figure, still distorted by the dimness of the early morning, crept toward the man. Its movements inhuman, the creature was a foul, sordid sight and it sickened Howard’s stomach the more he stared at it. Though he didn’t know why.

He couldn’t move, couldn’t help the man that pleaded for his life, just inches from him, separated by a mere pane of glass.

The man screamed, a chilling wale echoing off of his very bones. The creature was close now, inches from the man.

The man outside made no sound now, trembling in the snow, steam wafted upward from his panicked breaths. Rearing up, the beast lunged at him, taking them both through the window. Glass exploded in all directions, slashing at Howard’s skin as he fell backwards in shock. The ghastly creature tore at the man who now offered little more than a gurgled whimper as his eyes rolled back in his head.

Howard scrambled to his feet, his old joints begging for rest. Glass cut his feet as he fled the room, tearing open the door, he burst into the hallway shrieking. The beast tearing at its mutilated prey behind him.

Chapter 37

“Now, some of you are going to ask me for an explanation, but you’ve all seen what’s left of Elroy’s house by now, and you should know. I don’t have anything for you that you can’t try and figure yourself.” Jason said.

His officers, or rather, some of them sat in front of him in the station. Most had opted to stay home with their families after the events of last night and the wreckage that the sun had revealed today. Jason didn’t blame them.

Clark sat to the side, smoking a cigarette. The freshened bandages on his hand yellowed from the toxic smoke.

Jason’s wife Sandra and his 2 kids sat in his office in the back. Sandy, her gaze wrought with worry sat fixated on her sewing. Of course she worried about him, as anyones loved ones would that have someone dear working on the force, she knew that, and after all these years she had grown accustomed to that stagnant worry that plagued her mind, always reminding herself of its existence from the pit of worry deep in her stomach.

But this was different, Jason had always been her rock, her reassurance. She thought of his voice. “All’s well down here baby doll.” his gruff tone over the phone as she would hear every night when the worry and panic grew too great and she frantically dialed the phone. That was all it took, just his voice to melt all her “what if’s” away. Make her feel as if all was right in the world, but when Jason had burst in the door an hour ago, she had seen a look in her husbands eyes that she had never seen in her life.

“Now I don’t know what Sanders has said to any of you, but this takes priority, this…thing. It is a bigger threat to you and your families than those assholes I can promise you that.” Jason said.

Murmurs were heard throughout the men, Jason was never one to speak ill about Sanders, a reminder of the silent truth that they all knew, they lived in Sanders pocket. Some laughed to themselves in disbelief, shaking their heads, whether in denial or defiance Jason didn’t care, he continued on.

“Report to Dane to be separated into your patrol groups, but first, call your families, tell them to lock the doors and stay away from the windows, it will keep them safe.” Jason said again, reassuring himself as well as best he could.

“You lying sack of shit!” A voice burst from the crowd, Anderton, another man that Jason had his suspicions about stood up.

“I was at the paradise, whatever that thing was got into a room on the 3rd fucking floor!” The man’s words shook, a combination of fear and anger powered his voice as he spoke.

“You’re gonna tell us with a straight face we’re safe in our little cabins? The Paradise is a goddamn fortress!”

The men all erupted into a roar of noise as he spoke, others looked at each other in disbelief, some rushed to the phone.

Jason struggled with his weary mind to formulate a response, peering over the shouting heads, he could see his office door, still shut.

“Thank God.” he thought.

The heavy oak door to the entrance of the station was heard down the hallway, swinging open it clattered as it shut, the howl of the wind cut off as footsteps clomped up and down.

The borderline hysterical men jumped back, startled, they stared at the archway in the hall. Tensing up, they held their breath staring as the footsteps drew closer.

The thin figure of Ray Alberts swung around the corner,

“Sheriff!….What in..” Ray stopped, the pack of men standing ready to pounce exhaled loudly as they saw the thin, wiry figure of the photographer.

Jason snapped back into reality, if only for a moment. He struggled to keep his mind focused. Seeing a familiar face, he breathed a sigh of relief, forgetting for a moment. “Ray, what-“

Ray cut him off, his brow furrowed with concern, “Sheriff, something big is going on outside.”

Chapter 38

The muffled sound of the outside, covered in snow was overshadowed by the hiss of snow hitting hot engine, and the whir of spinning tires trapped in the snow. Stretched down the road into the head of the mountain pass, was a line of cars, bumper to bumper. At least 40 automobiles struggled to move in the snow. Some slid forward haphazardly gaining ground in various directions. In the distance, underneath the archway of trees, down further into the mountain pass, figures trudged frantically through the snow back toward town.

A family approached Jason, a man and his wife, sheltering their 2 kids with their coats as they trudged through the snow toward the station.

“Are you the Sheriff? Please, you’ve got to help us. Something attacked the hotel, dragged a couple of people away, we need to get out of here, please!” hysterical, the man ignored his wife’s muffled insistence that he quiet down, the children below them, cried, eyes red from tears.

“Oh God,” Jason whispered to himself.

The mess of dirty black snow and multicolored metal of automobiles dried his tired eyes out at the sight. He opened his mouth to speak, to plan, but he was cut off.

“Everyone, lets go, Anderton, take 3 men over there and start bringing everyone inside, leave the cars in the road, Clark, come with me, lets see how far down this shit show goes.” Macklin yelled out.

Clark, startled at the orders and confidence the young man exuded, drew his coat closer around him and followed. The other men struggled through the snow toward the cars, some of their eyes cautiously darted around the tree line, searching.

“Wait a God Damn minute!” Dane shouted from the doorway, leaning on his crutches, “They can’t all fit in the station!”

Jason took charge, quickly.

“The Casita!” he shouted. Some of the men stopped and had to think for a moment, searching for the image in the back of their minds.

The Casita was the smaller, older motel within the borders of the town. Everyone had wondered for years how it had managed to stay in business so long, with The Paradise just up the road.

But the owner, Mr. Morales, was one determined son of a bitch, as the locals put it. Migrating to the town from god knows where, he had erected the motel with private contractors, putting touches from his “homeland” as he called it.

The old rundown building was furnished with elaborate Spanish and Mexican architecture. Known as the MexMotel around the town, Mr. Morales insisted he was well versed in his culture, though he didn’t look to have a lick of spanish in him, the town didn’t care either way.

Jason knew these rich snobs wouldn’t like it one bit, but it would have to do.

“Well, what the fuck are you standing around for?” Jason shouted, pulling his hat down tighter he followed Clark and Macklin.

The men continued toward the cars as Jason struggled to catch up.

Reaching the end of the cars, Jason saw it, a massive pine tree had collapsed, blocking the road out of town, the only road. What he didn’t see was Macklin or Clark, some of the people exited their cars, noticing Jason, and tried to get his attention. Jason didn’t hear them, except for a faint hum that buzzed somewhere outside of his mind.

“Jason!” Clark’s familiar voice found Jason’s wandering mind and brought his attention to the two of them, just off the road near the tree. Jason almost didn’t recognize it at first, the snow had almost completely camouflaged it from the naked eye, he had to squint to figure out what he was looking at.

Realizing what it was, his heart jumped up into his throat,

“Dark red Range Rover.” Nate’s voice echoed in his head.

Clark and Macklin stood stone faced, staring into the drivers side door that stood ajar. Jason walked around to meet them, but vomit rose in his stomach as soon as he saw it. Blood was everywhere, soaked into what was left of the seats, the metal of the doors twisted and gnarled. Blood ran red down the sides, frozen to the sides of the cars, animal tracks were close in the snow, from deer and rabbits, no doubt licking the salty liquid from the mess of twisted metal.

Jason doubled over, retching, vomit painted the snow a sickly green.

“Oh God…..” Jason coughed out. “Clark,” He said standing up, “Take my badge, keep those people back, Take Macklin’s radio, tell the station we need a Jeep out here to bring these people back to town, No way in hell these cars are getting anywhere in this snow.”

Clark took the badge and fought the snow back to the main road.

“Macklin, give….read me that license plate number you took down a couple days ago. The Clawsons.” Jason said, stooping behind the vehicle, wiping away snow from the back, searching for the plate.

Macklin put it together quickly, “Oh my God, Sheriff….” his voice faded out to a mumble, trying to make sense of it.

“Just read me the plate,” Jason said, breathing on his snow covered hand, fighting off the bite of the cold.

Macklin produced the spiral notepad from his pocket, flipping through the pages, the falling snow sticking to the paper, he found it, “49-Y2815” “Sheriff, do you think that, thing, Elroy?” His words came out jumbled, his fear hindering his voice.

Jason stood up, not speaking he walked around to the opposite side of the car.

“Oh dear God,” Jason trailed off, he thought for a moment as he stood up, wiping some of the stray sick from the whiskers around his mouth, “Macklin make sure to remind me to find that man Nate Clawson and tell him the news when we get back.”

Jason stared at the tree just off the road, and back to the car, thinking for a moment. “Somethings off Macklin, this tree fell too recently for them to have swerved and gotten attacked out here by that thing, the snow is too shallow on that tree, it would have piled up just like on the rover.”

Jason thought for a moment, walking over to the car once again, he swept the snow off the side, careful not to lacerate his fingers on the metal.

“Oh my god,” Jason whispered to himself as he uncovered more of the side, he ran his fingers over the marks, his heart racing. Impact marks were deep in the side of the car, the same shape he had seen before, in the photos, on the coat.

“Mother of God, it pushed them off the road.” Jason said to himself. What in God’s name was this thing? Some…thing that could push a full sized automobile off the road, going god knows how fast?

“Sheriff, you can’t be serious…What could do that? That’s impossible,” Macklin spoke almost to himself, his voice quivering, almost answering his own questions within his mind.

“Macklin, we need to get back to the town, quick.” Jason said, walking back to the road.

Suddenly, the thought entered his mind, he begged it not to be true. Jason ran as quickly as he could to the base of the fallen pine, its large snowy branches littered the road. The massive tree lay sprawled out, almost lazily all over the pavement.

At its thinnest point, the tree was still a solid 2 feet wide. It would take days to cut this up and haul it away in this weather. Reaching the base of the tall conifer, Jason’s worst fear was confirmed. There, at the base of the tree, were the same marks he had seen so many times these past few, crawling, agonizing days.

They were trapped, trapped by that thing.

Chapter 39

It had gone over easier than he had thought, gathering everyone up. The people had moved almost without any fuss into The Casita. They didn’t ask any questions about the road. They simply followed silently, their minds bogged down with too much confusion and panic to question it. Though Jason just believed they were glad to get out of the cold, and worse, the woods.

Morales sat behind the desk grinning happily as he checked out key after key, his joy seemed it would overflow with each ring of the register. Jason had protested Arturo charging the panicked people at first, but the voices of some of the panicking tourists had overpowered his, assuring Arturo they would pay, saying anything they could to get inside somewhere safe.

He had found Nate, and his boy Owen in the lobby of the Casita, surprisingly, to him. Though when he thought about it, it wasn’t that crazy. Too much had happened at The Paradise for either of them to return to it now. Jason didn’t blame them.

His voice as hushed as he could manage over the bustling crowd, the sound of boots clomping the snow off and children crying.

Jason spoke. “Nate can I see you back at the station?” Nate stared back, his eyes tired, worn. It seemed he had aged 20 years in the past week.

“Yeah, anything Sheriff. Come on Owen.” The boy, hair matted and nappy, followed.

Clark and Macklin, sat back in the police station, staring at each other unsure of how to continue. Other officers sat at their desks, staring off, others discretely passed flasks back and forth, the warm comforting liquid topping off their courage.

The old oak door popped open, Jason and Nate entered followed by Owen, the snow had begun to howl with the wind, furiously outside.

“Macklin,” Jason said, approaching the men, “You and Dane take my Jeep up to The Paradise, get anyone who’s still up there down to The Casita. Tell them whatever you have to, I don’t want any loose ends up there.”

“Hold the fuck up.” Billings gruff voice broke over the room, casting silence over the murmuring officers. “You’re not authorized to do that.” Billings said, approaching Jason with a scowl on his eyes.

Jason looked back, a built up fury just behind his eyes, “Just try and fucking stop me, Sanders piece of shit.” Jason hissed back, fist locked at his side, he stood ready.

Billings smirked back at Jason, “I’ll report you right now, I’ll have you and your family begging for scraps from now til spring.”

“There’s the fucking phone.” Jason said, his tone serious, unshaken, “While your at it, get that slime up here to clear the road.”

The officers, watched, unable to look away. Macklin, stood behind Jason, hand on his gun, his gaze focused on Billings.

Billings and Jason stared back at each other, the tension rising with each passing second, cold sweat ran over everyone’s brow as they watched with fixed attention.

Billings coughed out a tar laced laugh, “You are one dumb asshole Arndt. If that thing out there doesn’t kill you first, I fucking will.” Walking past Jason, he stepped towards the phone. His strides long, cocky.

An audible sigh of relief filled the room, Macklin pulled his hand off his gun, relaxing.

“Nate, Could you follow me?” Jason said, “Leave your boy here with Macklin, he’ll keep an eye on him.

Jason knew that Nate wouldn’t care too heavily about the news but he’d spare the boy if he could, it was his mother after all.

Leading Nate back to an office adjacent his, near the back, he slid a door open, slipping inside.

“Nate, a tree fell a ways down the road, me and a couple other officers went to go check it out and today and well, we found this, sliding open a drawer on the vacant desk, Jason pulled forth the bent license plate from Nate’s car.

The metal clattered down on top of the wooden desk. It’s twisted shape caused it to spin sideways until it slowed to a stop.

Nate stared at the license plate. Unsure for a moment, what it was he was staring at. All at once, it clicked.

“The car?!” Nate exclaimed, “Where’s the rest of it? Where….” He trailed off, confused.

“Listen Nate, there’s something out in these woods. God knows how long its been there, Jesus, it could sure as hell explain some of the disappearances. But, it got to your wife and that Roy fellow as far as we can tell and killed them, Car is a fucking mess and the whole scene really. God Nate, I’m sorry.” Jason said solemnly

Nate stared off, silent. There is a point where a man’s mind can no longer comprehend the gravity of a situation anymore after it has been subject to so much. After a while, it all becomes white noise hissing somewhere outside their consciousness.

“We also believe that it was this same thing that killed your boy,” Jason racked his mind, the name was slipping, too much was in his mind trying to be processed, “Wyatt” Jason breathed out. “If there’s anything we can do for you or your boy, let us know.”

Nate stared off, his breaths shallow and infrequent. A single tear ran down his cheek onto the chapped skin of his lips, the salty liquid soaking into the dry pores.

Looking back up at Jason, he breathed deeply, “What can I do to help?”

Clark stared at the boy, Owen. He was at least a teenager Clark thought to himself, but he was very small for his age, his worn denim jeans swung back and forth with his legs that didn’t touch the ground as he sat on the chair adjacent him.

A small, young boy was a large part of his appearance, but Clark noticed all too well, so were his eyes. The boy’s eyes held a solemn quietness that age should not have bestowed upon him yet. Clark had seen the same look before, and he shuddered to think about it, Lizzie.

Shaking his head, he turned away, his mind trying to press the unpleasant images from his mind. But, a shout down the hall snapped him out of the unconscious haze of thought.

“You fucking bastard! You can’t do this!”

Down the hallway, near the phone that hung on the wall, Billings yelled. His gruff, heavy voice, shouted into the receiver, his face red, his gray whiskers looked painted on, contrasted with his beet red, sweaty face.

Jason jogged out from the office hallway near the other end of the building, Nate following closely behind.

“Billings!” Jason yelled, his tone exemplified his willingness to deal with the alcohol logged asshole that stood at the other end.

Billings didn’t even turn, didn’t notice Jason screaming at him from across the room. With a loud clatter, he yelled out.

“Fuck!” he dropped the phone to the floor, its elastic cord causing it to sway and bob back and forth. Billings kicked the front door open, his slow jaunting walk leading him out into the storm that swirled and howled outside.

The door swinging shut to the outside, Jason strolled over to the phone, confused. Pulling it up by the string it dangled by he pressed his ear to the phone.

“Hello?, Who is this?” Jason asked into the faded yellow phone.

“Who is this?” A familiar voice replied over the static of the phone.

Jason scowled, hissing back into the phone, “You know damn well who this is. Cut the shit and send your men up to clear the road! We’ve got people trapped here.”

The arrogant, all too familiar voice of Grease Hair paraded over the line.

“Sorry Arndt.” his malicious voice cackled over the receiver. “Sanders died in his sleep last night, his brat kids are liquidating the whole company, we’re packing our shit up over here. Good luck with your little one horse town.” Grease hair cackled to himself as he was cut off by the receiver clicking.

Jason’s eyes furrowed, wrought with a fury. “Don’t you fucking dare hang u—, God Dammit!” Jason slammed the phone down on the hook hard, again and again until plastic cracked and splintered, flying haphazardly in every direction as he reduced the phone into mere bits.

“Fuck!”

Taking a moment to compose himself, the phone lying in piles at his feet, he took a deep breath, turning around to address his men. “Well that’s it, Sanders ain’t coming. Everyone group up, we’re going out there.”

Chapter 40

The contents of the arms locker in the station really were quite pitiful. Strewn about the table in the station, were little more than about 8 or so hunting rifles, boxes of ammo of various contents sat next to them. The first group to go out, or rather, almost anyone who was left. Nate, Billings; after he had wandered back in off the street, Clark, Jason, and Anderton, selected some of the rifles off the table. Picking them up, they slid back and forth the knobs and gears attempting to break the orange rust, clinging desperately, inspecting their rifles intently.

“God, Clark, how in the hell would it even know where to begin looking for those two? Let alone that the car speeding down the road was theirs’?” Jason asked, shaking his head as his sore fingers tried to pry the action loose of its rusted grip.

“I was thinking the same thing about Elroy. God…what are we dealing with here? Why him? Coincidence?” Clark asked, staring back at Jason, a cigarette poking out the side of his mouth, smoke sizzling upward.

“That part of town is covered in cabins. How would it know where to find him?…did it watch him…go back or something?”

Billings yelled back, his back was turned to the other men, he watched out the window intently, the bite of his bitter coffee stuck to his gray mustache as he talked. “This is a God damn animal we’re talking about here, it doesn’t think, it doesn’t feel, it ain’t that smart.” Billings continued scowling off into the distance, searching his mind for a plan, something he could do.

The men stared across at each other all sitting at opposite ends of the square table, staring at each other for answers that they knew none of them had. None of them wanted to get up, to venture out into the unknown. The unforgiving vastness of the deep forest where this otherworldly creature laid in wait for them. They sat in silence, praying Macklin would never finish putting the chains on the Jeep outside.

“Wait a minute, son of a bitch.” Jason said, shooting up in his chair, “Shit Clark, Elroy when he was in the hospital, he was screaming about some cut on his arm wasn’t he? Babbling about that thing out there.”

“So? He was shouting all kinds of shit. Plus I ain’t the one who’s memory anyone should be picking, it ain’t exactly the best.” Clark said, sitting still in his chair as he took another deep drag of his cigarette.

“God Dammit Clark, I’m just asking if you remember that or not.” Jason shot back.

“Yeah sure, I remember him saying something like that.” Clark said back, maintaining his lazy position in the chair as he fiddled with his rifle.

“Listen, Ashley….Nate’s wife,” Jason said, thinking to himself as he spoke.

Nate looked up intently, staring at Jason. His gaze transitioning from the back office door where Owen sat playing with Jason’s kids.

“When I was talking to her she said the same exact same thing almost, cept it was about her leg.”

“Shit Jason, what does that matter?….” Clark began.

“Cause it just doesn’t make any sense Clark. That’s just too random of a coincidence. Both of them were screaming about some mark that wasn’t there.” Jason shook his head, resting it on his palms.

“So what would that mean?” Macklin asked to himself almost, “That it…marked them or something?” Macklin laughed, scoffing at his own idea.

“I think you may be right! It marked them, and, and…..it tracked em down again after. Followed their scent or its own scent on them or something. I don’t fucking know.” Jason said, standing up, mulling over the idea in his mind.

Nate spoke up, “Well how would it know to attack Ashley in the first place? It attacked her right in her room, and she never left that hotel. She never sets foot outside the spa or the bar when we come here. I can fucking guarantee that.”

“Oh really?” Billings shot out his voice at the table once again. The group grimaced, just hearing him speak again.

“Could you guarantee she was fuckin’ that lawyer she was with? Or did that slip by your radar too?” Billings laughed.

Nate shot up in his chair quickly, the screech of the metal on the linoleum caused everyone to jump in the chairs.

“Billings, shut the fuck up!” Jason shouted back, “Or I’ll test my theory out on you, you dumb cocksucker, tie you out to a tree out there and wait. Wait for it to come and sniff you out.”

Billings glared back, shutting his mouth.

“That’s a good question Nate, and the only hole in that idea.” Jason said, trying to put the argument out of mind. “What about Roy though? Maybe it was coming for him-“

“Wait,” Nate said, cutting him off. He shot up in his chair, a look of sudden realization hanging on his face. “Did you recover anything from the car?”

Jason listened intently, staring back at Nate, confused.

“Yeah,” he said, standing up, pulling a suitcase out from behind the front desk, “Two of these.” Jason said, setting it down on the table.

Nate clicked open the case, rifling through the contents. “Oh my God,” he said. Eyes wide, he pulled a slashed up coat from the case. “This is Owen’s coat, she…she must have stolen it…more of her evidence.” Sprawling the garment out across the table.

“These marks here.” Nate gestured to the torn arm of the coat, shredded to pieces. “Are these the same you saw on the car?”

Ray spoke up first, “Those are the same as the ones in the room I can tell you that,” his fingers played with his glasses, as he straightened them up on his face.

“Oh shit,” Billings said, rushing to the table, he snatched the coat off the tabletop hurling it into the fire that crackled and popped beside them.

“Billings what in the…” Jason yelled, but quickly understood.

“If that thing’s scent is on that coat, its just ringing the dinner bell for that fucking thing, we probably should burn the whole case here too.” Billings said back, staring out the window, he gestured the men to do it.

Clark hurled the case into the fire, the garments and articles smoked and melted, filling the station with a black toxic smoke. Jason backed up, fanning it out the windows. The group coughed, staring intently out into the dark. Any of them ready to jump at any moment and start firing.

“It’s a good precaution,” Jason started, “But I think we’re safe, that case has been in here for a good 3 or 4 hours.” Jason said, still staring out the window, his eyes scanning the darkness at the tree line.

“Eh….Can’t be too sure,” Clark said, his fingers holding open the vinyl blinds that rattled with each shudder. “Best to burn the other one.”

“Look, either way, that thing is gonna find us all sooner or later if we don’t get out there and kill it.” Jason said. Fixing his eyes on the door down the hallway, his brow furrowed at the sound of his children playing.

“Oh my God, Owen.” Nate said, standing up, rushing towards the hall.

“Nate listen to me!” Jason hissed, standing in front of the hallway, blocking Nate. “Owen is safe here. But he won’t be much longer if we don’t get out there. Look, it looks like that thing just got his coat, just missed him. There’s no blood or anything on the coat like there was on Elroy or Wy….” Jason stopped himself dead in his tracks, staring at Nate’s eyes.

Eyes welling up with tears he fought back frantically, Nate spoke. “Let’s go.”

Chapter 41

Even with the thick chains wrapped around the all rubber tires, Jason’s jeep whirred and spun, struggling to get up the snow and ice covered roads. The group sat in the seats, silent. Each bump in the road shook them back and forth. Eyes peered out the fog covered windows, scanning the woods, eyes darting back and forth, clutching their rifles tight.

Pulling up to the turn off on the jeep trail, the group of men sat in silence for a moment, some stared at the floor, the heater droning on, struggling against the vents, a faint whistle blew on as the heat filled the car.

Clark stared out the window, the trail to Silver Creek was near them. Snow was still shifted and piled high on the trail from the avalanche, Clark shook his head as he looked further into the woods.

“God Damn, Deja vu.” He thought to himself. It had only been a week since they had come up here the first time, that boy, Dane, the bear trap, it all seemed like ancient history. The haze of his battle with his addiction blurred the memories he searched for, trying to remember more, but recollections of only days prior were hazy at best as he struggled.

Nate was the first to exit the vehicle, pulling the latch, the door popped open. Swinging open the loud, squeaky door of the Jeep, Nate slid out onto the snow. Crunching underneath his feet, the swirling snow and wind outside found its way inside the warm oasis of the car, chilling the other men to the bone, stirring them from their perches.

“Nate, Anderton, Macklin, you take the left branch off the trail up here,” Jason said, pulling a bandana tight over his mouth and nose, his red, chilled flesh burned at the very touch of the fabric.

“Clark, you, me and Billings are right here,” he said, gesturing to the trail further up, opposite.

Jason hated the fact that he had to work with Billings one second longer, and he didn’t love the idea of sending out two of his most inexperienced officers out with a tourist. But he didn’t trust that bastard Billings to be left alone with anyone besides himself, and he sure as hell didn’t trust him to watch the station.

Not like he could have brought Dane anyway. His leg had healed considerably, but not enough to hike in this shit. He trusted Dane enough to not ensue a panic if one of the tourists at the Casita wandered down to the station asking questions. But Billings was a wild card. He had no idea what that asshole would do.

Reaching the first break in the trail, Jason passed a radio to the 3 men. Looking back at each other, they separated, unsure of what to say, unsure if they would see any of each other again. Clark and Jason stared at the shadows of the men disappearing further into the white flurries. Billings stood behind them, frantically scanning the pines, the shadows, thinking for sure one of them had moved.

Jason kept his eyes peeled on the back of his head. Billings was a coward for damn sure, but a coward could still try something stupid. Onward they fought the snow, their boots filling with the icy chill of the frozen water. As it melted into the fibers of their clothes, the heat of their bodies working against them, soaking their clothes as the cold of the forest froze the boots.

Nate scanned the trees, he walked with the young man…Macklin, he remembered. Close to his side was the other man that he didn’t know. Anderton…he was pretty sure was his name.

He didn’t know Macklin very well, he had only seen him around during the past week. Always around in the shadows, lurking behind someone in authority, loyal.

He smiled, though he didn’t know this man very well, he felt a connection with him, something that rang true inside of himself. A window into the past, into himself as a younger man. Always watching, trying to learn from those he looked up to, desperate to prove himself, to show he could take care of himself.

Startled, his eyes caught a shadow next to him in the tree line, swinging widely to the side, he turned. Pointing his rifle frantically into the woods, he spun too zealously, his rifle nearly pointed at Anderton as he shook.

“Watch out!” Anderton shouted, swatting the barrel of the rifle away, the cold metal bouncing off his palm. “God Dammit!”

“Sorry,” Nate said, shaking his head, his body overrunning with the chill of adrenaline caused him to shake.

Macklin chuckled to himself. He couldn’t help but laugh, this city dweller had no business holding a rifle. The past few days had been hell, but the sight of a full grown man shaking in his boots holding a rifle like a broom made him laugh deeply.

“The hell are you laughing at?” Nate snapped back, embarrassed.“You think its fucking funny-

Nate was cut off, a sickening crunching sound filled the night air, echoing off the inner workings of their eardrums. Both men turned slowly behind them to look, nearly vomiting at what they saw.

An enormous animal-like arm hung from the tree above them, claws hung razor sharp from the bottom. Two of them, were deeply embedded in Anderton’s skull just below the jaw, they held him tight as he thrashed back and forth. Gurgling, the man kicked his legs in the air as blood poured down, painting the snow a dark red. The thing’s paw covered most of his face but they could see just enough to know that the claws had penetrated the soft flesh under his jaw and were protruding from both of his eyes.

“Oh my God.” Macklin whispered to himself, both men stood frozen to the ground with fear holding them tightly in place.

Anderton blindly kicked in the air, his body shaking back and forth. Frantically, he gripped at the claws hooking him up in the mist of the night air. Holding them tight he pulled at them as he kicked and screamed through a mouth filled with blood. The creature hoisted him higher and higher, up into the cover of the snow filled trees.

Snow showered down, knocked off its perch of the long brushes of pine needles. The man’s frantic cries were cut off sharply with a sickening crunch of flesh and bone. With a loud whump against the hard, snowy floor, a pair of legs fell down from the trees, spraying Macklin and Nate with a gut wrenching mixture of saliva and blood.

“Holy Mother of God.” Nate yelled, “Run!”

Turning to run, Macklin far ahead of him, Nate fought the deep snow, his legs screaming, begging him to stop. Branches snapped and cracked high above, the two men frantically scurrying across the snow.

“Radio the others!” Macklin screamed back to Nate in the darkness, “We’ve got to warn them!”

“That poor bastard back there had the only one! We’ve got to get out of these woods!” Nate yelled back.

Macklin thought for a moment, as quickly as he could under the circumstances. Whether out of stupidity, or bravery, he cut around the next tree, doubling back to where they had come from.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Nate called out, just able to make out Macklin’s silhouette in the black.

“I’ve got to warn them! Keep Going! Get back to the Jeep!” Macklin’s voice could just be heard in the distance.

“God Dammit,” Nate hissed to himself, he had no choice, he kept going.

Macklin cut through the darkness, his flashlight lost back somewhere back in the snow, his only guidance; his faint memory of the direction they had come from. Pine trees and sticks whipped him in the face, stinging his eyes with the sharp bark and cold snow. Faintly, in the dark, he could make out the red that covered the snow, already freezing solid.

Sliding to his knees he came to what he could only imagine in the dark was Anderton's severed legs and torso. Gagging and vomit filling his mouth, he felt around in the night for the radio.

“Shhh…” Billings put his finger up in the air, “Can you hear that?”

Clark and Jason stopped, their ears perked up, stinging from the cold, listening for something, anything.

Out of nowhere, the radio blared, static and panicked yells filled the air.

“Jason! Clark!” Macklin’s familiar voice was distorted by static and terror, “Anderton’s dead. That thing is out here! It can hide in the trees!”

Chills of panic swept over the men. All at once they pointed their rifles into the sky, scanning the trees with their flashlights.

Nothing, quiet. Stillness was all the forest had to offer the men. The groups panicked breaths filled the night sky, silence pressing in on their ears.

Staring into the crosshatched pattern of the trees sparkling in the eerie glow of the flashlights, Billings saw it first. A terrifying creation staring back at him directly into the beam of his light, its eyes afire with the shining light. Viciously, it hissed and growled back at him.

“Kill it!” Billings shouted out.

Rifles popped off into the the snare off trees and branches, snow showered downward onto the group, blinding them.

“Where is it?!” Clark shouted, scanning the sky and surrounding wood.

Jason shook the snow from his rifle, staring into the darkness, his flashlight not reaching more than a few feet outside of the cluster of light it formed.

With a guttural roar, the creature jumped downward, pouncing down on Billings, slashing his arm, its claws gouging deep within his arm. Snow exploded upward all around the creature as it landed on all fours on the snowy ground.

“Holy Shit!” Jason screamed, unloading a close range shot from his rifle into the creature.

The creature shrieked loudly, hissing, it batted Jason’s rifle out of his hands.

Disappearing into the night, Clark popped off a few fruitless shots at the creature, its movements quick, inhuman.

“God Dammit” Billings spat out, clutching his arm. Blood seeped out between his filthy fingers, blood dripping upon the ground. Each drop audible, scratching every man’s ears with its noise in the silent forest.

Pulling his revolver from his side, Billings winced, letting go of his arm and cocked back the hammer, pointing it at his head, ready to pull the trigger.

“The fuck?!” Jason yelled, swatting the pistol out of the way just as Billings fired, the shot echoed out in the desolate woods, narrowly missing both the men’s heads. The shot rang out loudly, causing their ears to ring.

“Get off me! I’m not letting that thing get me! Not me!” Billings writhed and squirmed on the ground desperate to break free of the hold that Clark and Jason held him fast in.

“Billings you dumb son of a bitch!” Jason shouted, wrenching the gun free of his grip tossing it into the distance. “Your the only chance we’ve got now, if that thing does come back for you, we kill it alright?” Jason screamed into Billings hysteric face, just inches from it. “Clark help me stop the bleeding!”

Clark jumped to the side of Billings, sliding to his knees. Pulling a pocketknife from his coat, he cut the torn garment, wrenching and ripping it free from the long flannel coat now soaked in blood.

Billings screamed loudly, his voice frantic and pleading, pitiful. “Oh God it burns!”

Jason and Clark stared at the wound preparing to dress it, but the slash seemed to heal before their eyes, disappearing almost instantly.

Both men shot up to their feet, staring at where the ghastly injury had once been.

“What in God’s name….” Clark said, whispering it out to himself.

Billings had stopped writhing, he too now stared at the arm, magically healed.

All men stood silent in shock. Clark scanned the trees staring, Jason leaned against a tree, watching the woods.

“Jason what in the hell are we dealing with here?” Clark asked, staring at the ground where Billings now lay, quivering and cowering in fear.

“I don’t know Clark, I just don’t know.” Jason said, stooping to the snow, his hand running through the stiff, frozen flakes.

“But its hurt, and if we hurt it, made it bleed, we can sure as hell kill it.” Jason said, gesturing to a sickly green and red mixture on the ground, a trail of flecked patches leading out into the woods.

“What are you suggesting? That we go out searching in the dark?” Clark asked, annoyed.

“No.” Jason said simply, turning around, staring back at Clark,

“We’ve got Billings now, we bring this thing here, we bring it to our court. And we kill the fucker.” Jason said, pounding the snow hard with his fist, standing up.

Helping Billings to his feet, Jason grabbed the radio from the ground, covered in frozen snow, he dusted it off, adjusting the knobs. “Macklin, come in.”

Macklin had reached the Jeep finally. His few and patchy whiskers were stuck together with clusters of frozen snow. Panting, he opened the door. Inside the cab, he gently set Anderton’s wallet and gun. His wife deserved something of his, and it was all he could find quickly enough.

Resting one arm against the side of the jeep, and taking a deep breath, he covered the ground in his dinner.

A snap of a twig in the distance caused him to spin around gasping, choking on remnants of his own sick. He pointed his rifle at the source of the noise when he heard a familiar voice call out.

“Don’t shoot Goddammit!” Nate’s voice could be heard in the darkness, pulling his flashlight from his pocket. He shone it into the forest, searching. Nate limped back to the jeep from the woods, his strides slow and shaky.

“Are you alright?” Macklin asked, lowering his rifle. Staring at Nate puzzled, noticing the man limping. Carefully, he watched the trees out of the corner of his eyes.

“Tripped on a log, I’ll be fine” Nate coughed back, inching closer to the truck. “You gonna help me or not?”

Macklin slung the rifle over his shoulder, jogging up to join him, he helped brace Nate up against himself, slowly moving towards the Jeep.

A sound behind them startled them both. Macklin spun around quickly causing Nate to lose his balance and fall on the hard, cold snow.

“Macklin! Don’t shoot God Dammit!” Jason’s voice called out, the 3 men stumbled out of the tree line, lucky to be alive.

Chapter 42

Billings hands shook as he gripped his coffee, struggling to bring to his lips. Nate sat in the back room, staring blankly as Owen talked with the other children.

The rest talked in the next room, trying to bring Billings back to normal consciousness, the once proud, vicious man sat in the corner of the room sipping his coffee quietly, whimpering pitifully.

“This is horse shit Jason!” Clark demanded, sitting across the desk, he stood up, staring out the window of the office. “That thing could be coming here right now! We either get rid of him or we go kill this thing right now!”

“Sit down Clark!” Jason shot back, a scowl on his face, “You think I don’t fucking know that?! The man is in shock, the second his body gets a good dose of that cold out there again he’s gonna collapse, or worse. Then what good is he to us?”

“Clark has a point Sheriff,” said Macklin, lowering his voice, “You have your wife and kids in the back room and if your right, your bringing that thing right to them!” he hissed out, his hand on his gun as he watched the windows steadily.

“Don’t you dare bring my kids into this!” Jason whispered out loudly, scowling back. “You don’t think I fucking know? I’ve been watching those windows since the second we got here, if he dies where the fuck are we?!” Jason stood up, walking over to Billings, still shaking, forcing him to sip some of the coffee.

“Square one, that’s where.” Jason said, looking back up.

“That’s all well and good Jason.” Clark spat out, “But when he does recover, what do we do then? What’s our game plan huh? We go out shooting blindly into the snow?”

Jason pressed his hands down onto his desk leaning, staring off, he thought to himself.

“The Paradise!” he exclaimed. The overlook on the east! We get someone up on the balcony as a look out and us down on the floor level. We sit there ready to blast that thing we and we may just have a chance, that balcony overlooks the clearing, we’d see it coming from a mile away, no surprises.”

Clark thought for a moment, clutching his rifle as he leaned against the doorway. It could work, and Clark knew it, though it wasn’t much of a plan. Sitting and waiting to be a hot meal for that thing wasn’t much better. Shit, it was the best they had.

“We’d need shotguns, if that thing gets close enough to us we need some serious knock back power, get it out of our face real quick…” Clark thought to himself, trying to make it sound as if his suggestions had some merit to them.

“Spotlights.” Clark said to himself, thinking.

“So far that thing has only killed in the dark as far as we know, maybe it doesn’t like light, maybe that could stun it, give us a chance to take it down.”  Clark said.

“That room had lights, the room in the Paradise.” Macklin said quietly.

“I’m not talking about a couple of 60 watt bulbs here kid, I’m talking about a spotlight. Piercing light, blinding.” Clark said, standing up. “We burn that thing’s god damn eyes out.”

“If it has eyes.” Macklin scoffed back.

“I don’t hear you shooting any suggestions here! I’m getting real tired of the shit kid.” Clark spat back at Macklin, staring angrily.

“Look you haven’t seen what I have!” Macklin said back firmly.

“Anderton….oh my god, what it did to him…” Macklin thought to himself, horror behind his eyes.

“That….that thing..that creature is….its something evil…vicious.” Macklin stared back up at Clark, “It’s not going to go down easy.”

“Clark…” Jason said, turning back around. “Even if that would work. Where are we going to get a spotlight? You’ve seen the shit we have around here, it ain’t exactly top of the line.”

“The floodlights!” Clark said, “We tear one of them off the side of the hotel, get it to where we can aim it, can control it. That’s what we do, get it as close as we can and burn the fucker up. Then as soon as we can, we blast it with everything we’ve got before it can even try to run.”

With a loud click and whoosh overhead, the power went out abruptly. The room was covered in utter darkness. The men shot to their feet, staring upwards. Their eyes struggling to adjust in the black.

“Shit.” Clark said. Pulling the action back on his rifle, an audible click echoed in the room.

Jason barked out orders rapidly, “Clark get into the cupboard outside the office! We have some oil lanterns and flashlights! Get them going!” Jason rushed out of the room to tend to his frightened and screaming children just next door.

Running out of the room, Clark tore open the cupboard, fumbling blindly with its contents. Flashlights rolled out and fell upon the ground, lanterns jumped out, shattering at his feet. Hands shaking with adrenaline, he lit the flashlight. Shining the comforting beam of light in the darkness, he lit the remaining lanterns.

“Clark! Bring a light in here!” Jason’s voice called down the hall. Grabbing the lantern from Clark, Jason held the light up to his child’s face, gently brushing a tear from his face.

“It’s okay son. I’m here.” Jason handed the lantern to Sandy, huddling his children closely.

Jason stood up, “Come on Clark we-“ Jason’s voice cut off as he nearly tripped over Nate, still sitting silently in the darkness, Owen clutching to him closely.

“Shit, Nate. Come on! “We’ve got to go!” Jason said leaning over, offering a hand to the blank stare of the man. “Nate! Come on!” Jason yelled in the dark at the unresponsive man.

“Fuck it!” Jason yelled, shaking his head, he continued out into the darkness of the hallway, faded paintings hung on the wall dully illuminated by the dim flashlight sat eerily on either side of the hallway.

Clark opened his mouth to speak but was cut off loudly by a horrifying shriek, just down the hall in the office, Billings.

Rushing into the room, both men saw Macklin, sitting on the ground close to Billings. Billings thrashed back and forth violently as Macklin struggled to steady him, he held the flashlight close to the man’s arm that shook, seeping with blood, just where the creature had struck him.

“It burns! Dear God, help me please!” Billings yelled out, his chair shook as he thrashed back and forth, threatening to tip over.

“Macklin! Try to stop the bleedi-“ Jason started, a loud cry in the other room cutting him off, Nate.

The two men rushed down the dark hall, crashing into objects in the darkness as they fumbled around. Gradually, they made their way to the source of the screaming.

Clark shone the light into the room, Nate stood in the corner pressing against the walls, clutching his leg as he shook back and forth.

“God Dammit!” Nate yelled out, striking the wooden paneling to his side from the pain, his hand print soaked with blood leaving an impression on the wall. Owen sat at his side, trying to calm his screaming father. The man’s leg weeped blood through his torn up pant leg.

Staring into the darkness, Jason made the connection. “Oh my God Nate. What did-“

The wall exploded. Splinters and metal shards flew in every direction. The creature burst into the room from the howling storm outside, shaking snow from its matted hairs, it growled and hissed. Saliva dripping from its jaws stained the floor as it strode forward. Eyes locked on Nate.

“Clark shoot!-“ Jason said, turning to Clark, stopping dead at what he saw. Neither of the men held a rifle.

Jason snatched his wife and children up, pulling them from the room as they screamed in terror. Leading them down the dark hall, Clark and Jason fought the darkness back to the room that held their weapons. Macklin rushed by them, clutching a lantern, he rushed toward the carnage.

None of the men could speak to each other, their lips sewed shut from complete and utter horror.

The creature eyed the man, cowering in the corner as he screamed. It’s hair perking up with the ecstasy of the hunt. Its prey’s stench filling its nostrils that steamed in the cold night air. Suddenly, its attention shifted, its stone cold eyes locked on the boy, just feet from it. It could sense him, feel him. Its prey that had escaped it, had eluded it for so long.

The creature growled loudly at Owen, it’s new prey within its grasp, it inched closer, cornering the boy.

“Dad! Help me!” Owen cried out, his arm stretching out towards the safety of his father as the thing closed in on him.

Nate pulled away, dodging his son’s outstretched hand. Silently he ran by the creature, disappearing out into the night.

Owen screamed. “Dad!” his voice cowered into a whisper, iced to the floor from fear, he stood defenseless against the ungodly creature, mere inches from his face. It’s stench filled his nose. Opening its jaws, the creature reared back, ready to pounce.

With a yell from the darkness, Macklin smashed his lantern down hard on the creatures head, glass and flames exploded into his hand.

The creature shrieked. Doubling over backward it rolled onto the broken glass, and splinters of wood. Writhing on the ground, it desperately tried to douse the flames that burned its skin and fur, melting its hairs to its enormous body. Writhing back and forth, its razor sharp claws slicing dangerously through the air, cut deeply into Macklin’s chest. Macklin screamed, clutching his chest he fell over, blood seeping through his fingers.

Rolling to its feet, the creature darted out into the night snow, its fur still smoldering and smoking. Disappearing into the trees, the night once again fell into silence. Owen rushed to the man’s side who lay on the floor. Clark and Jason burst into the room, rifles pointed out as they scanned the room. Lowering their rifles, they rushed to Macklin’s side.

Nate ran. Through the low hanging pines and snow covered rocks, he ran. Sprinting through the dark woods, low hanging branches whipped and stung his face. Carelessly, he had neglected to grab a light. The darkness and swirling snow reduced his sense of direction and sight into a state of almost nonexistence. Chills of fear pulsed over his body as the cold cut and bit his face, taking the feeling out of his fingers and toes. He began to slow when he believed he had put enough distance between him and the station, when suddenly the ground gave way.

His leg soared downward under the snow, sinking into a crevasse between the large rocks below. Falling forward, his body pressed all his weight on the trapped leg. Snapping loudly, the bones broke. Trapped, he screamed face down in the snow, his shrieks muffled by his snow filled mouth and nose. Frost clung to his eyebrows as his pant leg filled with blood.

Black surrounded his eyes as he fought to free his leg, nearly vomiting he tried desperately to pull the shredded mess of tissue and bone free of the mountains grip.

He froze. Loudly, he could hear heavy footsteps sounded behind him. The hot, foul stench of the creature’s breath filled the air.

Nate turned to face it just as the creature’s claws sunk deep into his chest, silencing his screams into a mere gurgle. The creature pulled him upward, high into the air. He could feel the flesh of his trapped leg giving way, tearing. With a grotesque popping noise, the limb tore straight from his body. Hanging limply in the air, his remaining strength allowed him to scream faintly, his mouth choked with blood. The creatures jaws surrounded his skull, silencing him.

The snow howled and blew deep within the forest, the only witnesses, the pines.

Chapter 43

“Oh thank God, he’s still alive,” Jason breathed out, his two fingers pressed to Macklin’s neck. The young man lay on the ground, unconscious. His shirt was torn open, but no wound was seen below. His dark red soaked shirt and hands stood as the only evidence.

Jason stood up. Grabbing his pistol, he slipped it into his holster. “Clark, we’re going to the Paradise, now.” Stooping down, he grabbed Macklin by the wrists. With a loud grunt, he began dragging him down the hall.

“What are we gonna do with him?” Clark said. Snatching up Jason’s rifle that lay on the ground, he gestured to Macklin.

“Well we can’t exactly leave him here can we?” Jason said, looking up as he breathed heavily, pulling the man down the hallway.

“We drag him into the Jeep.” Jason exhaled dropping Macklin’s arms to the floor, “And hopefully he wakes up before we have to drag him up on the mountain. That thing slashed him. It could be coming back any time. I’d rather be ready.”

“Billings you whimpering sack of shit, let’s go.” Jason said, turning his head into the room. Staring back down at Macklin, he sighed. “Fuck he’s heavy.”

Jason stopped as he stooped once again, something catching his eye as he leaned down. Staring back, he gazed into his wife’s eyes, heavy with sadness, concern. Her hand pressed hard against the glass of the office at the end of the hall, the warmth of her love fogging the pane of the window.

Jason turned away, he wouldn’t do it. Wouldn’t say goodbye. His mind lied and twisted itself, if he didn’t acknowledge it, it wouldn’t happen. Everything would be fine if he didn’t think about it, he’d be safe and more importantly she’d be safe. But his mind jumped, snapping his gaze from the floor. He looked back up, gazing into Sandra’s eyes. Their stares sang sadly with each other.

His filthy, dirt encrusted fingers scratched and ruffled his grey whiskers as he gazed back. Sighing heavily, he turned to go. Clark standing on the opposite side, stooped to pick up the man that lay trapped in his state of absent conscious.

Walking slowly down the hallway, his boot kicked open the door to the outside, out into the swirling snow and biting cold of the mountain.

Hoisting Macklin’s limp body into the cab, sprawling him out in the back seat. Shifting his legs to the side, Billings climbed into the cab, swinging the squeaking door shut. Clark shuddered walking to the opposite side, Jason spoke to him as he loaded the trunk. “We’ll have to stop by your cabin first Clark, we need your shotgun. How many shells you think you have left?”

“Shit…”Clark said, thinking, his hands scrambled inside his pockets, escaping the cold. “Maybe a little more than half a box. Not much more.”

“It’ll have to do.” Jason said, reaching up to close the trunk’s swinging door, bringing it down hard, the resting snow shook and fell to the ground.

All in the car were silent, Clark, Jason, and Billings stared out the windows, silent. Clark held the rifle on his lap, his breath fogging the window of the jeep as he leaned on it. Macklin’s head hung limply, his mouth hanging open as the shaking of the jeep caused his head to jostle back and forth like a rag doll.

Clark spun around in his chair, trying to steady him. Sliding his head back into a notch on the headrest, the young man’s head came to rest. Clark breathed out, turning back to the front of the car.

Billings held a cigarette lazily in his hand, not smoking it. The embers fizzed and burned quietly, whips of smoke glided upward. The smell of stale cigarettes and old clothing hung heavy in the air of the cab.

It seemed to transition in an instant. Clark’s eyes hanging on the dimly lit road through Jason’s dirty windshield. But now he found himself sliding the door open to his home.

This place seemed almost frozen in time, he noticed it now. He hadn’t changed nearly anything since Cass had died, a picture from the past hung in front of him seemingly. Exhaling, he strode through the living room, his snow covered boots cleaning the dirt from the dingy, filthy carpet.

“Now where are you off to?” A voice asked him from behind.

Clark froze. Hairs prickled up on his neck, as he squinted his eyes, fighting. He turned around slowly.

“You’re leaving me all alone again?” Her soft voice asked. Her soft hair hued with gold hung thickly over her shoulders, she stared off, brushing stray strands from her beautiful, sparkling eyes.

Clark ignored her, turning back to his gun cabinet he rifled through the drawers, searching for shells.

“When are you coming back? She asked with her soft voice. Brushing Clark’s ears with every breath.

“Baby you can’t go again, don’t leave.” she said again. Clark squinted his eyes, gripping onto reality with all of his might. He knew she wasn’t there but his mind tried to tell him that he could still feel her warm hands on his cheek.

Slowly, he breathed out deeply. “I didn’t leave. You died.”

Clark braced for what would come next, unsure if he had the strength to fight through once more as he had so many times before.

“I know, I know.” She whispered out softly. “I just…I miss you.” Her head rested on Clark’s shoulder, her soft cheek rubbing on the flannel.

Clark raised an eyebrow, he turned to face her, for once unafraid.

“I miss you too. God dammit I miss you so much.” Clark cupped her hands in his, bringing them to his lips. His firm, worn hands completely covered her thin feminine fingers.

“So don’t go then. Stay with me.” She whispered, her kind eyes watching his, observing.

“Cass I can’t. I can’t live in the past. I can’t stay.” Clark said back, his eyes watering with an encroaching lonesomeness.

Her eyes stared off, thinking.

“I understand.” she said back. “Just….don’t forget me.” Her thin figure seemed to wisp away into a thin mist that Clark could not hold onto. The warmth of her embrace turned to a cold chill of solitude.

Clark stared at the floor. On his knees he turned to a photo, faded from dust and sunlight he picked it up. Softly, he brushed away the grime with his palm.

“I won’t baby. I won’t.” He sighed out. setting the photo once again on the shelf.

Scooping the gun and shells off the carpet, he turned to leave. Staring up at the ceiling as he floated about his thoughts.

His own eyes in the photo stared at him as he left the room.

Cass had protested the photo at first, her being so pregnant. But she relented under Clark’s reassurance. After all, when would they ever come to the Grand Canyon again?

Would they even have time for themselves to travel anymore as they had loved so much these past years? Even after the baby arrived? Cass’s mind had raced with anxiety and doubt clinging closer to Clark’s arm as the tourist took their picture.

He was all she needed, her rock, her reassurance that everything would work out, that they would be happy, be together forever, grow old together. She sighed with content. Clutching Clark’s large, muscular arm tighter, leaning into it, she smiled happily for the photo.

Chapter 44

The jeep gave the last of its life to the men as it struggled with even the slightest of curves and bumps in the road. The chains dug hard into the asphalt and dirt below the frozen ice. The wheels whirred and choked as they fought the incline up the hill to the Paradise. The engine gagged and sputtered on the gas it sucked in from the cold.

Macklin jerked awake quickly, scaring the hell out of everyone else in the car. But after looking around for a moment, cold sweat running down his forehead, he simply grabbed the rifle near him, clutching it. Transitioning back into the present almost seamlessly, he sat quiet, staring out the window as they drove. He ignored the blood running down his hand, dripping onto the floor, the shards of glass dug deep into his hand but he didn’t notice.

Rounding the final corner, pulling back the curtain of pines, they saw it.

The Paradise was almost unrecognizable. The once proud and extravagant building hid in the darkness in shame. Glass was shattered everywhere as the headlights revealed, the smashed crystal sparkling on the snow. Not a single light flickered in the darkness, a ghostly wind howled throughout the abandoned building.

“Oh my God.” Clark said, his eyes scanning the structure.

What few cars remained were torn to shreds, unrecognizable, save for the shreds of rubber that still clung to the tires. Power poles leaned lazily against the building, wires swung limply in the breeze, walls were torn to shreds, claw marks and blood left behind painted a ghastly picture in the minds of the group. Clark popped the Jeep door open swinging out into the snow. Quickly, he jogged towards the building.

“Clark.. Goddammit!” was all Jason managed to get out before the door swung shut once more cutting him off.

The wide, double automatic doors swung open and shut, jammed on a leg that lay in the snow and dirt. Clark choked back vomit as he kicked the limb out of the way, pulling the doors open. Glass crunched below his feet as he shone his light inward. Rifle pointed out as he scanned the lobby.

Turning back to the Jeep, he gestured for Jason.

The jeep rolled forward toward the chaotic scene. The window struggled to roll down with the frost that clung to it.

“The doors are gone, you can drive right into the lobby.” Clark said, his eyes scanning his surroundings.

“Why the hell would we do that?” Billings quipped back in the dark.

“Protect it.” Jason said out loud, thinking.

“Exactly,” Clark said back, “If shit goes south, at least we won’t have to go far to make a break for it, and that thing can’t tear up the car if we’re watching it.”

Billings scoffed, turning back forward, silent.

“Bring it in Jason, I’ll watch your back.” Clark said, rifle pointed out into the darkness.

Jason rolled the jeep forward, letting his snow covered boot off of the brake. Sparks flying, the doors slid slowly open. The ghostly beam of the headlights shone into the massive lobby. Glass and blood covered the floor, furniture was tipped over and torn to shreds. The jeep hummed steadily in the darkness of the lobby, two slim beams of light shone out into the dark. Illuminating the blood covered wall and broken window.

“Jesus,” Jason breathed out.

“Shitty thing is,” Macklin sighed out, loading his rifle. “Is the only people still up here were probably employees….locals.” Macklin pulled the action on his rifle shut loudly, hopping from the Jeep.

“Hold up.” Billings whined out, as Clark joined the men at the side of the Jeep. “The plan was to use a spotlight, just how the hell do we do that with no power?”

The men looked at each other, it hadn’t crossed their minds.

“Well there has to be a backup generator or a switch somewhere. Auxiliary power or something.” Jason said.

“There is!” Macklin exclaimed. “That snow storm last month! This place was the only part of town that had power and all the lines were knocked out.”

“Well shit kid,” Clark said. “That could be anywhere, look at the size of this place.” Clark shone his flashlight over the ceiling, the once grand Chandeliers were missing, torn straight from their perch, they lay in pieces on the ground.

Jason looked at Billings, “Well Gary, now’s the time to prove us your worth.” He scowled at Billings, inching closer to him, “You were in the the thick of it with those Sanders shits. Surely they showed you around the place a time or two.”

Billings’ eyes darted back and forth at the men staring at him. “I know where it is, but hell if I’m going down there. I don’t care what you say.”

Jason pulled flashlights from a duffel bag in the jeep, tossing one to Clark. “Oh you’ll care.” he said, moving closer to Billings. “You’re gonna take Clark right to it or we’re gonna tie you to the Jeep and let that fucking thing come right for you if you say otherwise.”

Switching on one of the flashlights Jason waved it around the room, examining it. “So Gary,” Jason held an anger on his voice that frightened even Clark standing at his side. “What’s it going to be?

Billings stood staring back in the dark, staring for a moment.

“God Dammit.” Billings took a flashlight from Jason and walked toward a maintenance closet, pulling it open. The door squeaked as it pushed a mound of snow over on the carpet.

Billings turned back to the men, “Well, come on God Dammit, no time to waste.”

The men followed Billings’ shadow into the closet, their eyes adjusting to the dark.

Billings shone a flashlight on a floor layout map, pinned to the wall, the men squinted at it trying to make it out.

“The second basement here,” Billings said, his finger casting a shadow on the map as he traced over it. “There’s a maintenance locker with a mobile generator. It’s got wheels, but fuck if that matters with the elevator out. Me and old reliable here, are gonna have to haul that heavy thing up here if we want to get the spotlight going.”

Clark scowled at Billings, restraining the muscles that twinged and itched in his fist.

“Why drag it up here?” Macklin asked, arms folded squinting in the dark.

“Cause queerboy, if that thing corners us down there with no exit, you two won’t be around much longer.” Billings tore the map from the wall, folding it up. “Any more questions?”

Jason turned to Clark, putting a hand on his shoulder. “For the love of god Clark, be careful down there.”

“Macklin” Jason said, turning to the door, “Let’s find a good spot with our backs to the wall. Somewhere to keep watch.”

“Shit.” Clark said to himself, pulling his rifle up off the nearby table, “Let’s go already.”

Hurriedly, Billings led them both to the maintenance shaft. A large, sealed metal door that let out an audible “whoosh” as they pulled it open, the metal door creaked as it swung heavily against the wall. Slipping inside, Clark pulled the door loudly shut behind them, locking it from the inside.

A darkness they had not yet known waited inside of the shaft, no windows let any of the light from the shining moon outside in. Clark struggled with his pocket, fumbling to produce the flashlight from it. Clicking the switch, he lit it.

The shaft was truly an abysmal place, water stained walls cornered them on both sides, smelling of damp carpet and mold. Cracked bricks chipped from the walls, coating the wet floor in a scarlet powder. Rusted pipes and doorless frames stood stretched out in the long hallway that awaited them.

Clark took the lead, Billings shook as he shined the flashlight down the hallway. The light danced on the walls, causing their shadows to jump and shake on the floor and walls. Their eyes playing tricks on them.

Shots echoed high above their heads. Clark jumped, turning to make a break for the door. Billings large, heavy arms stopped him. “Don’t! If we don’t get that generator we’re all as good as dead.”

“Fuck!” Clark yelled, ripping the radio from his belt, he switched it on. “Jason!? Jason?! Are you alright?!” Nothing more than static and fuzz answered, the concrete walls suffocating any signal that fought to escape the walls. “Shit!”

Jason ran to the vent, the hole in the wall the creature had escaped into. Firing several more shots aimlessly into the darkness of the vent he tore a flare from his belt, striking it. The bright red light burned in the dark sizzling on the cold snow of the vent as he tossed it inward.

“Macklin!” Jason shouted overhead to Macklin who leaned on the bannister of the next level. “Get Clark on the radio! We need to warn them!” Jason squinted into the dark red light of the vent, trying make something out.

“Nothing but static!” Macklin called back, running to the stairs, descending them quickly.

“Shit.” Jason whispered under his breath, running for the maintenance door.

“Well where the fuck is it?!” Clark shouted in the darkness, smashing another lock from the row of lockers with the butt of his gun. Tearing the metal door open, he searched it frantically. Pounding could be heard now on the maintenance door far down the hallway. Clark aimed his rifle into the darkness up the row of stairs, waiting for the door to burst open at any moment.

Billings stood behind him, tearing open more lockers as he searched for the generator. “Clark! Clark! I found it-“ Billings voice cut off. A loud crashing noise could be heard behind him. The sound of metal sliding on concrete.

Clark raised an eyebrow in the dark. “Billings? Everything alright?” Clark spun around, staring at Billings down the dark hallway. Billings stood still, shaking, his light shaking as he shone it upon something on the floor. A metal grate, from one of the air vents.

“Macklin!” Jason shouted behind him, “Try to find another way around!” Jason slammed the heavy catering table once again into the heavy metal door, the thick wood of the rolling table cracked and splintered with each impact.

Gary Billings turned up to look at Clark in the dark. His light shining into Clark’s eyes, blinding him.

“Clark?” he asked. His voice whimpered out a weak and pitiful cry.

It was then that the thing appeared behind him, its enormous figure hidden in the darkness.

“Oh my God, Billings!” Was all Clark could get out before the claws burst through Billings’ chest, knocking the flashlight from his hands. Billings shrieked loudly, mouth spilling blood as he was ripped backward into the darkness.

The flashlight spun and rolled towards Clark on the ground. Billings frantic gurgled cries could be heard down the hallway in the distant. In one motion, Clark snatched the light from the ground, scrambling to the locker where Billings had stood.

The creature shrieked loudly down the hallway, causing Clark’s hair to stand on end. Reaching the locker, he stooped to grab the generator when something hit him. Hard.

Billings corpse was heaved out from the darkness, striking Clark hard. The force caused him to fly backward, crashing through a door at the end of the hall. Laying in a mess of stagnant water and splintered wood, Clark’s eyes spun, trying to get their bearings. Billings’ limp corpse lay on top of him, the heavy body pinning him to the floor as he struggled.

Clark’s eyes adjusted to the darkness of the hallway, scanning the distance, he froze. Out of the darkness, the creature strode forward, its powerful legs bounded off the floor with each step, its massive, rotting muscles twitched with every move. Its full form shrouded in the darkness of the shaft. Clark struggled to break free, the thing was inches from his face. With a loud screech, the thing opened its massive jaws, latching onto Billings corpse. The massive teeth sunk straight through the body, piercing Clark’s leg, puncturing almost to the bone.

Clark screamed, shaking in the darkness, the creature pulled backward, ripping the corpse from him, tearing flesh from his leg.

Clark screamed in the dark, his hands fumbled in the darkness, grabbing at his wound that spouted blood. The creature dragged the limp corpse of Gary Billings backward into the darkness, heaving it over its head far down the hallway. Clark shook as he fumbled for his shotgun in the dark, the thing had noticed him. Slowly, it strode closer to him by the second, it snarled in the darkness, sickly saliva dripping from its fangs.

Leaning his head back in pain, letters glowing in the dark caught his eye.

AUXILIARY POWER SWITCH.

Clark clutched at the wall to his side, bracing and pulling himself to his feet. Blood still spurting from his wound had coated his hands, causing him to slip and fumble with the switch.

The creature was hardly a foot away now, it snarled and hissed at him, rearing up, ready to pounce.

The thing leapt through the air at Clark just as he slid the latch of the switch upward. It’s razor sharp claws tore deep into his arm, knocking him backward into the wall. Clark sat dazed against the bricks as the lights switched on loudly. The floodlights of the basement kicked on audibly, shooting a blinding light all throughout the room.

The creature screamed, rolling backward onto its side, fumbling in the darkness, its black eyes struggling to adjust.

Clark wasted no time, snatching his shotgun from the ground, he aimed it at the writhing creature, unloading a shot point blank into the creature’s side.

The thing let an ear piercing shriek from its hideous jaws, echoing off the stone walls of the shaft. Clark clutched his ears, eyes squinting and teeth gritting from pain.

Snapping to its feet, the creature bounded down the hallway into the vent, its heavy body wincing with each leap. Dark blood dripped on the stained concrete floor as it ran, scrambling into the vent it disappeared. It’s hind legs narrowly missing being hit by another shot from Clark’s gun, far at the other end of the hall.

“Run you son of a bitch.’ Clark breathed out, laying back against the wall. Exhausted.

“God Dammit.” Jason yelled out. The sudden light had blinded him temporarily. Aiming once again at the rusted hinges of the door, he fired his rifle, once, then twice.

The mighty metal door fell backward hard, crashing upon the floor. Dust sprayed upward as it smashed the concrete floor. Standing back up, Jason sprinted down the stairs into the shaft.

Another sound at the doorway caused Clark to shoot upward, bracing against the wall. His shaking arm quivered as it pointed the shotgun at the doorway. Jason’s familiar face appearing in the gray basement.

“Jason.” Clark breathed out. Clark dropped the shotgun to the ground, the metal and wood clamoring against the floor. “Jesus, I almost shot you.”

Before Jason had a chance to speak, Clark pushed himself off the wall toward him. “We need to go. We can’t let that thing get away.”

Clark tore a long strip of fabric from his coat, moving to tie it tightly just above the wound on his leg. Before he even had a chance, the wounds on his leg and arm healed miraculously.

“Shit.” Clark breathed out.

“Oh God no,” Jason whispered out, “Clark.”

Clark dismissed him as he stooped down to the ground, pulling his gun from the floor. “Ain’t nothing to worry about if we go kill the thing. Let’s go.”

Clark spun outside the doorway, ascending the stairs quickly into the lobby of the hotel.

Reaching the jeep, Clark yelled out to Jason. “Keys!”

Jason tossed the keys, jingling in the air to Clark. Snatching them, Clark pulled open the door to the Jeep, starting it.

Jason jumped into the passenger side seat, slamming the door shut behind him. The wheels spun and whirred on the snow covered carpet, all at once catching ground, lurching them forward out the front door, smashing through the metal frame of the sliding doors.

The jeep disappeared around the side of the hotel just as Macklin came running out from the hallway on the second floor.

“Wait for me! God Dammit wait for me!” Macklin shouted into the night as the Jeep disappeared.

“Clark!” Jason yelled, trying to break through to Clark’s conscious mind. Clark sat quietly, eyes focused on the road, knuckles white as he clutched the leather wheel.

“Clark! How do we even know where to go?!” Jason yelled again.

“It’s wounded Jason, I gave that son of a bitch a run for its money.” Clark fumbled with more shells in his jacket pocket, setting them upon the dash.

“It’s losing a lot of blood. We chase it in to the forest and finish it off. This ends now.” Clark spoke calmly, collected, more sure of himself than he had been in years. The past be damned, this was his job to do.

The jeep spun forward in the snow toward the mountain trail, just big enough for a four wheeler. The Jeep lurched onto the dirt and snow covered trail, trees and sticks whipped and smashed against the car as it rolled down the trail. The headlights illuminating a ghastly trail of dark red.

“There Clark!” Jason yelled out, pointing to the trail of blood.

“I see it.” Clark said calmly, gripping the wheel, the Jeep sped forward into the dark.

“Clark!” Jason shouted, wrenching the wheel from Clark’s hands. Red plastic fencing appeared in the distance, lit up in the headlights. It was the tall vinyl fence blocking off the east cliffs of the mountain. Narrowly, they dodged it.

Clark shook off the surging adrenaline from their narrowly avoided demise as he continued through the woods.

“Jason get your rifle! If you see it..shoot-“ Clark’s voice transformed into a desperate gasp, rounding a corner, a felled tree blocked their path. Jerking the wheel, the jeep spun hard into a snowbank, sending the car down, flying down a hill adjacent the cliffs, missing rocks and trees by mere inches.

“Clark!” Jason shouted in the chaos. Rumbling of tires and snapping of branches echoed loudly throughout the forest. The front wheel spun awkwardly, catching a large rock, it flipped the jeep into the air like a toy, sending them further down the hill. The car smashed and rolled into the mountain. Clark’s head whipped hard against the glass of the window, cutting his eyes to black.

Chapter 45

“You ever going to get up today?” her soft voice spoke to him.

His cheek rested softly against his pillow, his bare chest lay comfortably against the blanket of his bed. Exhaling loudly, he rolled over onto his back, facing her.

Her beautiful face, inches from his, her soft hair tickled his bare chest as it brushed lightly against it. Leaning up, he kissed her softly.

“Oh God Clark, morning breath.” Cass laughed as she plugged her nose, kissing him back.

Clark pulled her down close as she leaned in, holding her tightly against him in their bed. Brushing her hair from her brow, he kissed her head gently.

Cass laughed, “As I was saying” she said, as she pulled herself away, standing up. “Are you getting up anytime soon? I’ve got breakfast waiting, come on.” she turned to leave disappearing behind the doorway.

Clark breathed deeply, sucking in a long breath of the morning air.

Cass’s head appeared once again in the doorway. “Oh by the way…” she said smiling. “Happy 24th birthday, you old man.” She laughed to herself as she turned to leave. “Now come on!”

Clark sat up in his bed, spinning to his feet, he stood up, rushing after her. Before he could follow, the room disappeared into white.

Stinging. That’s all he could feel in his head. His eyes, his ears, his head all begged for relief from the pain. In the distance he could hear the horn honking endlessly. Noisily.

Slowly, he pulled his throbbing head from Jason’s steering wheel, the horn ceased. Eyes adjusting in the darkness, he stared out through the shattered windshield.

“Jason!” Clark shouted out into the dark, hand clutching his head that weeped blood.

“Clark!” A voice replied from the dark. “Over here!”

Clark squinted in the dark, faintly he could make out Jason, nearly 10 yards from him, he could see him.

Slumped against the tall orange and red vinyl of the fence, Jason lay on the ground, clutching his leg.

“Clark! I need some help over here!” Jason clutched his leg, his voice laced with pain.

“I think my leg is broken-” Jason froze. Out of the trees, just in the distance, he could see the creature emerging from the trees in front of him. The creature snarled angrily, agitated. It limped slowly toward him, blood flowed heavily from its side. Teeth bared, it moved slowly towards him, growling.

“Oh God! Clark! Get your gun!” Jason shouted out in the dark.

Clark sat up in his seat, eyes scouring the cabin, he searched for the gun. But to no avail, like Jason, the gun had been ejected, lost in the crash.

“Shit,” Clark hissed to himself, trying to stand up in the wrecked car, his foot pressed the gas pedal. Loudly, the engine accelerated, jarring him from the noise.

Clark sat back in his seat, staring out through the shattered frame, he could see the creature, just feet from Jason now, blood seeped from its side.

“God Dammit.” Clark said to himself. Screaming loudly, he hit the gas hard, shifting the car into gear. The wheels spun aimlessly in the air, trying to grab, to hold something. The frame of the jeep hung tightly to a rock behind, restricting it.

“Shit. Shit. Come on.” Clark yelled, smashing the steering wheel with his hands.

“Clark! Help!” Jason cried out again, frantically, he kicked his leg in the snow, trying to distance himself from the creature that growled at him, its teeth bared.

Suddenly, the thick rubber of the tires caught the rock below it, jerking the car forward into the night. Violently, the car jolted forward, ripping the bumper from its mount. The car slammed forward, smashing against the creature, pinning it to the fence between the jeep. Trapped, the thing hissed and slashed into the air.

The tires of the jeep spun angrily in the snow as the creature fought back against the mass of metal crushing it.

Shrieking, the creature lashed out it’s claws, searching for anything. One of the flailing claws met  Clark’s throat, slashing it open.

Clark sputtered and gagged, clutching at his bleeding throat. Loudly, he yelled, slamming the car hard into reverse. The wheels spun backward on the snow, slamming him into the rocks once more, Clark’s head whiplashed backward into the seat, dazing him, it tore his wound further open. Blood spilling onto the seats and floor, Clark yelled out loudly slamming the car into drive. The jeep rushed forward.

Jason could only watch. “Clark! No!”

Once again the Jeep smashed against the creature. This time the plastic vinyl of the fence gave way. Plastic exploded out the other side as the creature and the jeep burst through, both of them tumbling downward hundreds of feet to the rocks and trees below.

Epilogue

Jason stared into the mirror for the hundredth time, straightening his tie, combing over his hair, checking his teeth.

Sandra strolled up to him, grabbing his tie, fixing it. “Will you stop? You’re worrying over nothing. You don’t have to do this you know?”

Jason turned back to face his wife. “Yes, yes I do.” Jason said quietly. “I promised him I would.”

Opening the front door, Jason walked from his house to his car, his new car. The new shiny black pickup. Impractical he knew. For all it would take was one good ice storm for the salt to eat through the fine, jet black coat of paint. But he didn’t care, it reminded him of a different time, a more simple time.

Rolling backward out of his driveway, Jason drove through the town. Shops bustling with customers covered the streets, people smiled as they talked.

Raising his hand, Jason waved at Macklin, walking down the street with his son, Owen.

Adopting him was an easy decision. Macklin smiled happily as he walked down the street with his boy, uniform crisp and pressed. Owen looked up at his new step father, safe, protected, and as much as he didn’t think it was possible, happy.

Jason had made sure they knew, that they all knew, what Clark had done for them. How he had saved them all, had been so fearless and unquestionably brave. Jason would make sure none of them ever forgot it.

Rolling down the mountain road. Jason gazed up on the trees and mountainside. Beautiful. It had been so long since he had left the town, he had almost forgotten what it had looked like.

Hours passed as the mountains crawled past him slowly down the road, when finally, he came to it. A small house just 5 miles outside the big city, breathing out loudly, he stood up, stepping outside the car.

He stood at the door, shaking, minutes passed before he worked up the courage to even knock.

Shaking and breathing heavily, Jason jumped when the door finally opened.

A beautiful young woman met him as she opened the door, golden hair cascaded downward, her face young, confident. Her eyes were strong and insightful as she stared at him.

“Yes?” she asked.

“Li-“ he choked on his breath. Ever so slightly, the smallest noticeable bump of a child graced her figure, just below her colorful summer dress.

Coughing, he cleared his throat, “Lizzie?” he asked.

The woman looked back at him, confused.

“Do I know you?” She held the door open wider, her left hand held the door, a diamond ring adorned on her finger.

“I’m sorry.” Jason breathed out, “Let me start over.” Extending his hand, he spoke to her, “My name is Jason Arndt. I was a good friend of your father’s. I was hoping…I wanted to tell you about your father. He was a good..he was my best friend. I’d be honored if I could just talk to you for a little while about him.”

Lizzie’s mouth hung open slightly, she stared back at Jason.

“Please, come in.” Opening the door wider, she led him inside.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Josh Olsen 2016©