by Kate Morris
He waited with his friends and held onto her.
“Probably just Royce messin’ with us,” Freddie said, although Tristan could see the fear in his eyes.
“Shh!” Spencer commanded as he also strained to listen.
Everyone was so quiet, but that wasn’t the only thing Tristan noticed. Even the crickets had stopped chirping. The frogs were quiet. No owls hooted. The night had ceased its nocturnal activities as if it, too, were frightened at what it had just heard. Tristan wasn’t afraid. He just wished he had a weapon.
“Stay right here,” he told Avery and released her hand.
He used his phone’s light to see his way to the small shed next to the house and opened the door. There was a chainsaw in it, and a wheelbarrow, some spare lumber and a half-empty package of shingles for repairing the cabin’s roof if it needed it. He did find a shovel and a crowbar. He took both. They were the only possible weapons. Rushing back to Avery, he handed the shovel to Spencer and kept the crowbar. The weight of the steel felt good in his hand. He picked up her hand in his again and held tight. That felt better.
It wasn’t that he was holding her hand because she was actually his girlfriend or anything or even that he thought of her that way. But she had a bad habit of getting herself into dire situations, especially lately. Getting attacked by some freak at the bar, chased down by something out on a walk, sexually harassed at work, secretly stalked by him. She was a walking disaster zone.
“What was that?” Renee whispered in fear.
“Shh, easy,” Tristan warned quietly and tried to listen.
“We need to get Royce and head back,” Spencer commented.
Tristan had never been in any sort of shit with any of these men. They were all assigned temporarily to the base outside of town for one reason or another. Only Spencer was Special Forces, green beret. The rest carried lower ranks. It didn’t matter to him. They all went through basic and AIT. They knew how to fight if they had to. It was whether or not they could perform if the situation merited it. Not everyone could.
“Let’s go,” Tristan said. “We don’t leave without them.”
“Where’s this go, Renee? The path they took?” Spencer asked her.
Avery’s friend, Joshua, the same one from the pics on her phone, just stood there looking as scared as the girls. Freddie wasn’t in much better shape, which led Tristan to think that his roommate hadn’t seen a combat mission yet in his service. He knew Freddie was a diesel mechanic, which was great if something broke down. That wasn’t going to help tonight, though. Technically, Tristan’s MOS was engineer, just engineer, a generic term. He was not an engineer of any kind. Some divisions that the Army created about thirty years ago didn’t actually exist, so technically, he was an engineer. It looked nice on paper. Technically.
“There’s a creek, a stream that leads to a lake. I don’t think they would’ve gone that far, though. The lake’s about a mile away. The creek is closer.”
“Let’s move,” Tristan said and led the group. He walked over to Freddie and handed him the crowbar. “Use it if you have to. I’m Leaving the girls behind with you. They’re weaponless. You’re in charge. Do not let me come back here and see you haven’t taken care of them. If we aren’t back in ten, leave. Get them to safety. Ya’ hear?”
“Yes, sir,” his subordinate answered immediately, forgetting their status of roommates and buddies. Tristan was pulling rank.
Then he turned to Avery, “Stay close to Freddie, okay? We’ll be right back.”
He released Avery’s hand, and she looked upset about it. Her pale blue eyes were wide and frightened.
“I want to go with you.”
He shook his head. “Not safe. Stay here. Leave us if we don’t come back in ten minutes.”
This time, she shook her head.
“Yes, don’t argue.” He turned his back to her and signaled Spencer. Tristan just kept going toward the path.
“C’mon, Spence,” he said to his friend, who nodded and gave Renee a kiss on the cheek.
They walked for a few minutes along the worn dirt path surrounded by woods. Tristan stooped, pausing a moment to reach under the hem of his jeans and remove the knife from his boot he had strapped there in a leather scabbard. It wasn’t that big, but it was better than nothing. He wasn’t opposed to bare-handed grappling, but he’d rather use something that left an even bigger mark than his fist.
“What the hell was that, man?” Spencer asked.
“Not sure. Wild animal?”
Spencer was quiet. Neither of them believed that. It sounded more human than animal, more animal in nature than a human would sound.
Then, as if on cue, it did it again, making that awful screaming sound as if it were in pain or in a rage. He wasn’t sure which, and he wasn’t sure where exactly it was coming from. They both froze in their tracks. Waiting. Listening. Calculating.
Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, Tristan caught sight of something white in all the darkness around them.
“Help!” Sheba screamed and nearly ran him down. She was wearing a white t-shirt and not much else. He was pretty sure the shirt was Royce’s because it had an emblem for Indian motorcycles on the left breast pocket.
“What happened? Where’s Royce?” Tristan shouted above her hysterical crying.
“Something…something…I don’t know. It attacked us. We were down by the creek. Was gonna go skinny dipping. It…what the hell was that?”
“An animal?” Spencer asked her.
She shook her head, her mascara streaking down her face and staining Royce’s shirt.
“Sheba, where is he? Where’s Royce?” Tristan asked.
She just trembled under his hands and cried. “Gone. He’s gone. It…took him, dragged him away.”
“A bear?”
That was the only thing he could think that would be able to carry off a man of Royce’s size.
“No, I don’t…I don’t know…a man? We gotta get outta’ here. Now!”
“Go back,” Tristan told her, shouted in her face was more like it. “Follow this trail. It takes you straight back to the camp. You’re not far. Go!”
She ran, didn’t wait or pause, just took off. He noticed her feet were bare and so were her legs.
“Ready?” Tristan asked his friend. Spence just nodded.
They kept going, came to a ravine and went down it. Tristan wished he had a gun. If it was a bear, he couldn’t stab it to death. Before the night was over, his strength and skills as a killing machine were going to be tested. He had this feeling many times in the past. It never failed to come to fruition. Each time, he’d had to kill people when that instinct kicked in. Tonight, he just wondered if his ticket would get punched or his enemy’s.
He could hear water gurgling. They had to have come this way. Sheba probably took off through the woods and got off the path at some point to have come at him from an angle. She was in a panic, so it was understandable.
“Tristan, here,” Spencer said, shining his phone’s light on blood near the bank.
“Where is he? He can’t have gotten far,” Tristan noted and looked around. He found a path in the sandy shore, streaks or drag marks. He whisper-shouted to his friend, “Here. Over here!”
Spencer joined him, and they followed it. Blood marked the ground here and there. It went about thirty yards until they found Royce. He was dead. Clearly dead. There were what seemed like claw marks on his face and his bare chest. His neck had a huge chunk missing as if an animal like a bear had bitten a piece out of it. His eyes were wide open and frightened, even in death. It reminded Tristan of the look Avery gave him before he left the campfire.
Then another scream came, this one more muffled than the last, and definitely not the same tone. This was a woman, and it was coming from the campfire.
“Go!” he shouted to Spencer, who took off up the hill.
Tristan passed him and sprinted. He had a better weapon than his friend. That’s why he should’ve gone fi
rst. That’s what he told himself. The truth he didn’t want to acknowledge was that he was scared out of his mind that Avery was being attacked by whatever animal just killed his friend.
He ran as if his life depended on it. In truth, her life maybe depended on it. Avery was not the kind of person who could take care of herself. She’d lived a protected, sheltered life. She was weak, soft. Whatever just killed Royce would kill her in half the time. Royce would’ve put up one hell of a fight.
Tristan held the light of his phone in front of him on the path and almost slid to a stop at the sight of blood again. Spencer ran into him. Tristan pointed at the blood in the silvery beam of light from the phone, and they moved forward more cautiously.
“Drag marks again,” Spencer located first.
They followed them off the path and into the woods. It didn’t take long to find the end of the trail of blood. Sheba’s dead body lay prone and unmoving, unblinking, lifeless eyes staring up at the night sky. Her abdomen shredded open, her throat cut.
“Fuck! Are you serious, man?” Spencer said with a mixture of anger and anguish.
“Let’s go,” Tristan said, snapping him out of staring at the dead woman. “Move it.”
He double-timed it back to the campfire where everyone was waiting for them.
“What happened? We heard someone scream. Was it Sheba?” Renee fired off questions.
“We need to go. Now!” Tristan stated and went directly to Avery because he’d already tried his cell phone for service earlier and didn’t catch even one bar.
“Where’s Royce and Sheba?” Avery asked him softly.
“Dead. We need to move. Come on,” he grabbed her elbow and pulled her along. Everyone gasped at once. Joella started crying. Renee was firing off more questions.
“But…” Avery said in the same quiet tone.
“Now, Avery,” he said, not caring whether or not the rest were figuring it out. He did, however, call back over his shoulder to the group, “Leave everything. Let’s go!”
He had just mounted the ATV when a roar and rustling of bushes came from behind and to their right. He yanked her arm, tugging her on behind him and fired up the machine. He wasn’t waiting around for anyone else. He had to get her to safety.
Someone screamed. Tristan swung in his seat to see Freddie going down, something on him.
“Dammit!” he yelled and got back off. Then Tristan wrapped an arm around her waist and slid her forward into the driver’s position. “Stay here, Avery. Stay back. If I go down, get the hell outta’ here.”
He took out his knife again and went toward Freddie at a sprint. Renee and Joella were screaming. Spencer was getting them out of the way.
“Hey! Get off him!” Tristan roared. This thing wasn’t the only person in the woods tonight who could be loud and induce fear.
He charged like a bull, dug the balls of his feet in at the last second, and plowed into Freddie and the…man that was on his roommate’s back. They all three went over. The man hopped to his feet even faster than Tristan did. Freddie didn’t get up. The man circled Freddie’s body as if sizing up Tristan. He was doing the same.
Tristan did his best to draw it away from his friend. He wasn’t going to refer to this thing as a man. It was not a man anymore. Something was wrong with him. There was blood all over its face. His eyes were huge and bloodshot, dazed as if it didn’t know where it was or what it was doing. It had a small chunk of a tree branch in its left hand about four inches long and sharp on one end as if it had chipped away at the bark and built itself a homemade knife. Had he stabbed Royce and Sheba with it?
In his peripheral, he saw Spencer rushing to Freddie’s aid. His friend didn’t sound so good. He was gurgling and making spitting sounds.
“Come on, motherfucker,” Tristan taunted. “You wanna’ dance?”
It screamed. This was definitely the first sound they’d heard earlier. It wasn’t human at all anymore. A human couldn’t make that sound. It was impossible. The sound it was making was like a mixture between a fox screaming and a bull elk’s bugling sounds. People couldn’t vocalize like that.
Then it charged. Tristan planted his feet but sidestepped quickly at the last second. The blow intended for him was partial, but it was still enough to knock Tristan sideways. They grappled. It tried to hit him square in the chest with its makeshift weapon, but Tristan deflected it.
Tristan raised his knife and jammed it into the thing’s stomach. It wasn’t even affected. Instead, he shoved at him, knocking him off balance and into a tree behind him. Damn, the thing was strong. It reminded him in a bad way of the man who’d grabbed Avery at the bar. That freak had been super strong, too. This guy wasn’t nearly as big as Tristan but was, somehow, stronger. It didn’t matter to him. He’d fought bigger and smaller, stronger and weaker. It wasn’t the size of the fighter. It was skill, stamina, and pure bloodlust. Who had more. Who was conditioned better. Who was willing to give all.
He raised his knee, braced his foot against the tree, and shoved off and into the thing. It screamed again, which in turn, caused Joella to scream louder. That was really helping. Tristan punched it in the side of its head. Then he stabbed it again, this time missing the chest and hitting the shoulder. It didn’t slow it down, either.
Behind it, Spencer yelled, “Tristan!”
He knew what his friend meant and shoved hard at the thing until they were dislodged again. Spencer raised the shovel and hit it in the back of its head. It staggered. He hit it again, missing its head because it had turned and was charging Spencer this time. It was charging on all fours. Tristan jumped on its back and plunged the dagger into its heart. It took three steps with Tristan hanging on it before stumbling. Then it fell to its knees and then the ground. Tristan stayed on until he was sure it was dead.
“Jesus Christ! What the hell is that thing? Is it a man?” Joshua asked from his position with the girls, except Avery, who was still on the four-wheeler where he’d told her to stay.
Tristan wiped his blade on the thing’s pants since it wasn’t wearing a shirt. It also wasn’t wearing shoes. It was, strangely enough, wearing soiled white socks.
“It’s a man,” Renee said.
“No, it’s not,” Tristan told them.
He took two steps toward Freddie when another scream rent through the air. It was close.
“Oh, my God!” Joella cried. “There’s more than one!”
Tristan checked a pulse on Freddie and got nothing.
“Let’s get out of here,” he barked, pushing people into motion. Not Spencer. He was already shuffling Renee toward their shared ATV. “Joshua, take Joella with you. Move it, dude!”
The guy was paralyzed with fear, so Joella grabbed his shirt. Tristan sprinted toward Avery, who moved back so that he could drive. He fired it up and led the way out. He wasn’t sure if anyone else could figure out the path in the dark, but he’d memorized it on the way in. It was just a skill he’d developed in the military. Always know your way out in case the shit hit. The shit had officially hit. They were in what he and his friends sometimes referred to as a shit storm.
He pushed the machine as fast as he could without being reckless. They made it back to the farm in probably record time, but Tristan wasn’t satisfied with that. They weren’t that far into the woods. They’d made a loop in a big circle of her farm.
The second they dismounted, Tristan walked away and called 9-1-1. When the dispatcher finished her introduction, he said, “Send an ambulance and the police. Send the coroner, too. We’ve got four bodies down.”
“Sir,” she said politely, “calm down.”
“I am calm. Look, lady, it’s a bloodbath out here. One of the infected just attacked me and my friends at this address. I killed it. Three others are dead. There’s more of them out there. Get the goddamn sheriff out here now!” He paced in anger.
“Sir, please describe the attack,” she went on, to which he complied. When he was done, she said, “Sir, are you sure it wasn’t
a bear? We’ve had multiple calls tonight about bear attacks in the area.”
“Look, lady, I fucking stabbed the guy. I think I’d know if it wasn’t a human. I’m Special Forces. This ain’t my first damn rodeo. I’d know if it was an escaped circus bear. Jesus! Just send help!”
“We have a four-hour wait right now, sir,” she said. “Just stay inside and wait for the police to arrive. We have you in the queue now, so just get somewhere safe and stay there.”
“What the…”
He hung up.
Tristan walked back to the group huddling near the barn. He stood beside Avery, who immediately clenched a handful of his t-shirt on his lower back so nobody would see. He wanted to wrap her up in a bear hug and tell her everything would be okay. What the hell? Where’d that come from?
“What’d they say? Are they coming?” Renee screeched.
He let his eyes fall to the ground as he thought a moment.
“They aren’t coming,” Avery interpreted. “They don’t believe us.”
“No,” he corrected. “That wasn’t it. She knew what I was talking about. She believed me all right. She was reading off a script on how to handle this shit. She’s just trying to smooth it over. It was just like the night in the bar. They know. They said there’s a four-hour wait…”
“What? We have like no crime around here. What’s the holdup?” Renee demanded.
“Good question,” Spencer said and removed his ballcap to swipe a hand through his hair.
Renee asked, “And who’s ‘they,’ Tristan?”
“The cops. The government. The hospitals. They all know what this shit’s all about, what’s happening. I’ve been checking around, putting my nose where it doesn’t belong. There was a bad attack at the oil refinery, too. Two, actually. People were killed there, too.”
“You didn’t tell me about that,” Spencer said.
“Me, neither,” Avery said as if she were perturbed at him.
Tristan just shrugged. He didn’t owe her an explanation, or anything for that matter, which made him wonder why he felt bad. “I found out a whole lotta’ other shit about this thing, too.”
