This Deep Panic

by Lisa Stowe

  Curtis felt a smile broaden across his face. A scared guy, a kindred spirit, rewriting his history. Practicing the dialog he should have said, wished he’d said, or planned on saying. Maybe convincing himself that he’d actually said those things. There was a time way back in middle school when Curtis had done the same thing. These days he knew he wasn’t a badass so instead he gave that dialog to characters in his manuscript. Created the fictional world he would never move through in real life.

  Whoever this stranger was, he’d be mortified to find out someone had heard him. Curtis stepped out where he would be visible. He bent over, fingering his bootlaces, and coughed loudly.

  All noise up ahead stopped. Except for the heavy breathing. Curtis coughed again.

  “Damn bootlaces!” he said loudly.

  There was a rustle in the bushes. Enough sound to allow Curtis to act surprised, as if he’d just now heard the noise.

  “Who’s there?” he said.

  “Are you a monster?” There was a distinct quaver in the voice from the bushes. “Because if you are, I’m a badass. Just sayin’.”

  Curtis covered his mouth to hold back the laugh. Then he straightened. “No monster here. Unless you’re one?”

  Ferns and salmonberries trembled, then parted, and Curtis saw a very overweight young man come through. His face was flushed and shiny with sweat, even on such a cool day. His trousers and shirt had tears in them and looked like they’d been slept in. His backpack straps were frayed. He looked no more than seventeen, maybe eighteen.

  “What are you doing out here alone?” Curtis asked, startled.

  The kid pulled his shoulders back. “What are you doing out here alone?”

  Ah, a defensive, prickly sort. Curtis should have guessed. He tilted his head to one side, studying the young man. Defensive but very scared underneath. Sympathy for the kid settled his own nerves.

  “I’m searching for a friend,” Curtis said. “And the cell tower repeater. Where did you come from?”

  “Silver Creek,” the kid responded, stepping closer. “On a field trip with an idiot teacher. We were at a cabin with food and everything. Safe. And he decides we’re going to hike out because he thinks that will be safer. Even though some of us kids have already died. We should have stayed at the cabin. Jennifer, one of the girls in my class…one of the popular girls, agrees with me. When we get out of this, he’s so fired.”

  Ah, delusions of girlfriends. Curtis remembered those days. “So where is she, this Jennifer? Did she come with you?”

  “Not yet. She’s going to follow as soon as she can slip away.”

  “Okay, then where is everyone?” Curtis looked uphill in the direction the kid had come from but saw no movement.

  The young man hesitated a moment. “Well, not really sure. I left them a while ago. Decided to go back to the cabin. But I guess I kind of got…turned around. Not lost. I can find my way through woods anytime. But the earthquake, you know, messed things up.” His face drained of color and he glanced over his shoulder. “And then there’s this…”

  “Monster,” Curtis said when it became obvious the kid couldn’t complete his sentence. Part of him felt relief, as if he’d just been handed proof that he wasn’t going crazy. “It’s something that eats people, I think.”

  “You’ve seen it?” The kid stepped forward.

  “Not seen it, just heard it.” Something tickled in Curtis’s mind again, a feather touch of a faint memory. But once again he wasn’t able to pin it down. “And I think there’s a second one back the way I came, but that might have just been some kind of wild dog. Hey, what’s your name?”

  “Michael. Who are you? And why are your jeans hanging from your pack?”

  “I’m Curtis. I’m a professor with the University of Washington. I was here working on gravity experiments when the quake hit.” Then he decided on honesty. Something to show Michael that he wasn’t alone in the world of being afraid and not being a hero. “And I’m drying out my jeans. I pissed myself last night out here alone in the dark when that thing went by.”

  “No shit!” Michael laughed, loudly. “I’ve been scared the last few days, but never that scared! ‘Course, I’m a badass, like I said.”

  All desire to sympathize, offer camaraderie, or be kind, flew away. Curtis decided he could pull his shoulders back and look tough, too. “Good for you. Nice meeting you.”

  “Wait, where are you going?”

  Curtis passed Michael and gestured with a hand. “Uphill, obviously. I told you, I’m looking for a friend.”

  “But-”

  “If you keep going downhill you’ll end up in Index. It’s been hit hard by the quake like everything else, but there are people. And a few houses left to hole up in when the monsters come out. You should be able to stay there. If you want to find that cabin in case your girlfriend shows up, you’re on your own.”

  Michael looked back the way Curtis had come from, and then looked uphill. “It’s dangerous out here alone you know.”

  “Okay. Thanks for the warning.”

  “Look, man, maybe I should go with you. For protection, you know.”

  Curtis grinned, keeping his back to the kid. “I’m not much for protecting kids. But if you keep going like I said, you’ll be safe soon enough.”

  “No, fool,” Michael said. “To protect you.”

  Curtis shrugged, grabbing a tree branch for support as he pulled himself upward. “I don’t really need protection. But if you want to come along I don’t mind the company. I’m not going to look for your cabin though.”

  Michael came up the trail so fast rocks and dirt tumbled loudly downhill. “Well, I guess, if you need the company, I can postpone going back to the cabin for a few days. Jennifer will wait for me.”

  “Not a few days,” Curtis said firmly. “Hours. By dark I’m going to be in Index. With people.”

  “So you don’t piss yourself again?” Michael snorted loudly.

  Curtis swung around, cheeks flushing. “Look, if you want to be out here tonight, fine, but you’re on your own. I survived last night with whatever that thing is. I’m not going to push my luck again. If you see that as cowardice rather than common sense, I don’t need company that badly. And I certainly don’t need someone tagging along that’s going to give me grief the whole time.”

  Michael raised both hands, patting the air. “Sorry, sorry.” He looked around at the forest, the mountains, the destruction, and then stared at the ground. “Sometimes I say things without thinking.”

  “I suggest you start thinking.” Curtis turned back to the trail. “You’ll find there’s a reason we have brains.”

  “Asshole,” Michael said.

  But he spoke so quietly that Curtis pretended he didn’t hear. Let the kid have the last word. Though he wasn’t so sure the comfort of company was going to be worth this type of company.

  Curtis started uphill again, watching the ground and where he stepped. The earth was so disrupted, so broken, that it took his full concentration to keep his balance. But as he walked, he felt the breath of a thought in his mind. Something there he should know. It was like those late nights at the university, working without sleep, his mind so shattered with knowledge that at times it was like everything slipped away and he couldn’t grasp a single concept.

  The heavy, labored breathing of Michael behind him didn’t help. The noise was like raising a huge red flag shouting ‘over here!’ to monsters.

  After several minutes of climbing, Curtis paused, not only to allow Michael to catch his breath and not have a heart attack, but also to get his bearings. The woods were opening up as they reached higher elevation where granite took over, dirt was scarce, and plant life found it harder to sink roots. Off to his left the fault line wavered upward. It was narrower here, probably also because of the granite.

  In the deeper parts of Curtis’s mind, where reality resided, he knew Henry had to be dead. Not because of the scrap of scalp left on the hood of his car, but because o
f the thing that had moved past him in the night. Something was out there eating people. It didn’t matter where it had come from or what it was. It was there, and Henry was gone.

  But Curtis had always been hopeful and optimistic.

  And so he looked uphill to judge how close they were to the cell tower and a grin spread across his face.

  “Almost there,” he called down to Michael. “See? The crest is just there.”

  Without waiting for a reply, Curtis started uphill again. Almost there. He’d see the reality and that would allow him to walk away from the hope. No Henry and no way to become a hero and fix the tower. And then, finally, he would go back. Downhill would be faster. He’d be with people and warmth and safety before darkness started sending shadows to sift down between the trees.

  The sounds Michael made as he worked his way uphill grew fainter as the boy fell farther behind. Curtis didn’t care. He craved the end of the trail, the crest of the ridge. To be able to see far, to see there was nothing more he could do.

  He pulled himself up over the last downed tree with the help of thick branches, and stepped out onto the somewhat level ridgeline. He straightened his aching back, put his hands on his hips, and lifted his face to the cool air, eyes closed in blissful relief. It was starting to drizzle again, fine misty drops gently settling in his hair and on his skin. He drew in a deep breath and opened his eyes.

  A man stood a few feet away, gun pointed at him.

  12

  Curtis stumbled backward, hands coming up as if they could stop a bullet. “Hey!”

  Even as he moved, the man was lowering the gun and raising his own hand. “Wait, wait, it’s okay.”

  Curtis came down hard on his butt, pain shooting up his spine.

  “Shit!” the man said. “I’m sorry. We heard something coming through the woods. We thought…well, like I said, sorry. You okay?”

  Curtis stared, one hand on his pounding heart, the other on granite, fingers pressed down tight. The man was solid, muscles obvious even under his coat. His black hair hung to his collar, damp in the drizzle.

  “You okay?” the man asked again, reaching up to shove his hair back out of dark eyes. “Need a hand?”

  “No, no,” Curtis said, shoving against the ground and heaving himself up. He twisted from side to side relieved nothing was broken and snugged his pack straps back up. “Wait, did you say ‘we’?”

  Even as he spoke, he saw people standing several yards back, near the remains of the fallen cell tower. A woman, with a rifle and a large German shepherd by her side and young people, all bedraggled, all with eyes wide with fear, all staring at him. Before they could respond though, there was a loud crashing in the underbrush behind him.

  The man immediately raised the gun, slicing the air with an abrupt hand motion, signaling Curtis to get out of the way.

  But Curtis recognized the sound of bellows. “Wait,” he said. “It’s okay. It’s just-”

  “Michael!” the man said. “You asshole.”

  There was relief under the words and the man lowered the gun again.

  A heavy, hot hand came down on Curtis’s shoulder. “Let’s go,” Michael said, low. “Come on, you wanted to go back. Let’s go.”

  Curtis pushed Michael’s hand away and stepped forward, reaching out to the man. “The tough guy teacher, I presume? I’m Curtis Jonason, a scientist working in the area on a gravity experiment for the University of Washington. Or I was. Until the earth quake.”

  In spite of the confusion in the man’s eyes, he also reached out and shook Curtis’s hand. “Ethan Reynolds. Environmental Science teacher.” He laughed shortly. “On a field trip.”

  Curtis stepped to one side. “And this, I assume, is one of your students.”

  Ethan’s dark eyes smoldered. “Yes. Yes it is.”

  “Hey man!” Michael stuttered out. “You were going to get us all killed. I was going back to the cabin where it was safe.”

  “You little shithead. You put us all in danger, taking off like that, leaving us to look for you. It was irresponsible, juvenile, and incredibly stupid.” Ethan drew in a deep breath. “And you stupid kid, the cabin is in the complete opposite direction from where you were headed! What the hell were you thinking?”

  “I was thinking I wanted to live,” Michael said. His words were brave, but he took a faltering step backward. “And you haven’t done a great job so far keeping us alive.”

  Curtis saw the quick flash of pain in Ethan’s eyes.

  There was a moment of silent tension before Ethan shook his head.

  “Yeah. Well, you still want to go to the cabin, it’s back the way we came.” He turned to Curtis. “Come meet the others.”

  Curtis glanced at Michael who stood still, sweat drying on his flushed cheeks. He shrugged and followed Ethan across the rough ridgeline to where the small group waited. He didn’t look back, and didn’t hear Michael following them.

  A girl with blond hair stared fixedly past Curtis at Michael. Her green eyes brimmed with tears, but they didn’t fall. Curtis paused, trying to decipher what he saw on her pale face. Fear? Relief? He couldn’t tell. Next to her stood a classically pretty girl with long dark hair and a tight tee shirt. Even in the chilly air she left her stylish jacket unzipped just enough to show the tee shirt. And cleavage. Her eyes were focused on Ethan as if Curtis didn’t exist. But he was used to that.

  He turned to the girl with tears in her eyes, making an educated guess. “Jennifer, right?” he asked.

  Her pale cheeks warmed with a quick flush as she turned her eyes to him and nodded.

  “Nice to meet you,” Curtis said, then thought Michael might need all the help he could get. “I’ve heard a lot of nice things about you.”

  Jennifer flushed but the woman with the rifle came forward before she could respond. Ethan introduced her as Anya, and then introduced the other students. Curtis sensed trauma behind all their haunted eyes.

  “Where are you going?” Anya asked. “Out here on your own?”

  “Here,” Curtis said, gesturing widely with his hand. “The quake opened a fault line from Index and I wanted to follow it to find a friend of mine. And I promised some people in Index I’d look at the cell tower to see if it was fixable. To see if there was any way to contact the outside world.” He stared at the downed power lines. “To call my mother.”

  Anya looked over her shoulder at the toppled tower. “I don’t think you’re going to repair that.”

  Curtis knew she was right. There was no way to fix total destruction. No way to call out. No way to find out if his mother was okay, or to get help to her if she wasn’t. It was hard to swallow past the lump that filled his throat. He pressed the palms of his hands into his eyes as if to push the sudden and overwhelming disappointment back inside.

  The young girl introduced as Lucy touched his arm. “Excuse me, but is it safe in Index? I mean, will we be okay there? Can we get there before dark?”

  Curtis dropped his hands, sniffled, and shrugged. “Well, I plan on being there before dark.”

  “Look,” the tattooed young man called Spike said, gesturing for Nathaniel and Lucy to join him. “We can talk later. We need to move. Or have you all forgotten what’s going on?”

  Curtis saw the terror that came into their eyes and the way the kids looked at each other and then outward, into the mountains, as if searching.

  Nathaniel put a hand on Lucy’s shoulder. “Sorry, but Spike is right. Mr. Jonason, we really need to be someplace safe by dark. Some of us have died. There’s something out here hunting us.”

  “We have my hand gun and Anya’s rifle,” Ethan said. “But I don’t think it’s enough. We can’t be out here once it’s dark.”

  Curtis shivered. “Oh, I know. I mean, I know there’s something out here. I haven’t seen it, but I heard it. It passed me last night. And this morning I found…” He looked at the fear in Lucy’s eyes. “Well, anyway, I plan on being in town tonight. There aren’t a lot of houses left standi
ng, but there’s people and fires.”

  “Can you lead everyone there?” Anya asked.

  When Curtis nodded, she touched the dog’s head as if to catch its attention.

  “Right. Then I’m going home.”

  “Wait!” Rowan caught Anya’s arm. “Even if we’re going to be okay, you won’t be! You won’t make it home before dark.”

  “I can’t…” Anya started, then paused for a deep breath that sounded like a sob. “Please understand. I need to be home. I have to go home. If that thing shows up I’ll shoot it. But I have to go.”

  “Ethan shot it.” Spike said, his voice rough. “That thing with antlers coming out of its head. He shot it. And it didn’t slow the fucker down. Didn’t stop it from killing Paul and Zack. Didn’t keep it from coming after us. You know it’s following us. It’s close. You don’t stand a chance even with a grizzly.”

  Curtis felt that feathered whisper in his mind again. But this time it didn’t float away. This time it settled and the thought coalesced as if ice flooded his system. “Wait, antlers?”

  “Come on, man!” Spike almost shouted. “We need to move!”

  “Oh,” Curtis said softly, thoughts racing. “Oh, sure. No, you won’t kill it with guns.”

  “How would you know?” Spike asked.

  “Because I…right, that reference in…and that story from…” Curtis realized they were all staring at him. “Sorry. It’s just, well, I just realized what it is.”

  “Tell us,” Anya said, grabbing his arm.

  “No,” Spike said, his voice intense. “Tell us how to kill it.”

  Curtis looked from face to face, uncomfortable with being the center of their focused fear. “Well, a couple references say you can kill it by fire, but who knows? I mean, how can you say definitively what kills a myth?”

  “That thing after us is no fucking myth,” Spike said.

  “Please, what is it?” Lucy asked.

  Curtis recognized the basic need to name something, to lessen the terror of the unknown with knowledge. That was something he easily understood. “Well, some Native American legends from the Midwest call it a Windigo. The Native Americans here, the Coast Salish, the Haida, describe it with antlers. You can’t see them unless they want to be seen. They…” Curtis paused as his thoughts raced ahead of his voice.