by Frank Martin
A dangerous mix of alarm and anxiety propped Brad up in his seat. He couldn’t identify the object, which was a strange shape that awkwardly lumbered towards him. He hoped and wanted it to be an animal of some kind. There were deer and even reports of wolves throughout the valley. But Brad’s fear immediately brought something else to mind.
This thing was somehow different, though. The creature that attacked Randy was large compared to most things swimming in the lake. Just about the size of the ATV Brad sat on. Whatever lurked in front of him was bigger. Much bigger. Almost equal in height to those heavy-duty pickup trucks all the local rednecks owned.
Could it be the same thing that killed Randy? Did it really grow that much that fast? Or maybe that was just a baby and here was momma, ready to finish the job.
The questions paralyzed Brad as they worked their way through his drunken mind. Only when the thing stepped out of the wilderness and into the light of the trail did the danger become apparent to him. The snapshot of Randy suspended in the air, locked in the jowls of an unworldly monster, came flooding back. Features of Randy’s killer, slithering tentacles, slimy scales, and protruding talons, were all prominently displayed on the creature before him. Only they’d been amplified and enlarged as if jacked up on steroids. And staring Brad down was a bright red cross in the center of the creature’s face, which served as a glowing flare in the creeping darkness.
Without even thinking, Brad instantly dropped the bottle and threw his hand to the handlebars, kicking the ATV into gear. The wheels spun the vehicle around and the creature took off, barreling ahead with its tentacles wildly flapping from side to side.
Brad twisted the throttle as hard as he could, cranking the ATV to its top speed. While he had certainly gone this fast before, it was only ever on an open, paved road. Never on a trail with night fast approaching. And certainly never when his life depended on it.
Brad knew the creature was still chasing him. He could hear and feel the steady pounding of the earth as it ran. A pulsating rhythm of tremors shook the ground with every thunderous step, jolting the ATV through its tires.
As the trail wound around trees and bounded over hills while cutting across the valley, Brad tried and failed to fight the urge to look behind him. He glanced over his shoulder and saw the monster galloping like a demon escaped from hell. The red glow of its t-shaped eye intensified. Above it, a seam appeared to open, revealing a pit of sharply, serrated teeth. Brad couldn’t believe the creature actually had a mouth on its forehead.
Looking ahead of him, Brad tried to quickly think of ways to hurt the beast. To do something, anything to avenge Randy. Not to mention save himself in the process. But his options were limited. He was barely staying ahead of it, using all his focus to keep on the path at full speed and prevent himself from crashing into a tree.
Brad glanced back again. This time the creature was closer. It was gaining on him, whipping its tentacles back and forth just shy of the ATV’s back wheels. Its tongue flapped uncontrollably around its face, spewing a thick mucus in its wake. Brad could hear the creature breathing now, letting out a raspy snarl with every exhale.
He shifted his focus back to the trail and was shocked to see a tree fast approaching. Quickly pulling down on the handlebars, Brad veered the ATV hard to the side, following the trail around a steep embankment. He hoped the creature missed the turn, but it didn’t. Despite its size, the beast was remarkably agile, naturally pivoting into the curve without losing any speed.
Having never been this deep into the valley, Brad had no idea what to expect. He found that the path quickly turned again, and again, taking him down a twisty track of bumps and obstacles. The creature pursued him every step of the way, inching closer and closer with every second that passed.
Coming up to a large mound of dirt, Brad prepared himself and hit it head on. The ATV launched into a jump and Brad looked behind him to see the creature do the same. Realizing he was helpless suspended in the air, Brad released the handlebars as the creature wound up his tentacle and slapped the vehicle right out from under him. The mangled ATV flew to the side, rolling through the woods like a crumpled piece of paper. Nearly ten feet in the air, Brad continued flying ahead as a human rocket, eventually landing on his shoulder against the hard, unforgiving dirt. A moment later, the creature landed behind him with a booming quake that nearly popped Brad off the ground.
Desperation flooded Brad’s mind, adding to the adrenaline pumping through his body. He couldn’t move one shoulder at all and frantically tried to push up with the other. His throbbing legs couldn’t support his weight, though, and the boy collapsed, huffing in a face full of dirt.
He started crawling away from the monster, madly scraping the ground in front of him to pull himself forward. Brad knew it was futile, though. He was done for and closed his eyes, waiting for the creature’s teeth to sink into him just as they did to Randy.
Except the pain never came.
Instead, Brad felt a slithering tentacle slowly wrap around his leg before squeezing tightly against his ankle. The creature then pulled the teenage boy back, dragging him off the path and into the darkness of the dense forest.
Brad screamed and shouted for help, but he knew it was hopeless. These trails were made in an isolated section of the valley for a reason, far from any homes that might bother teenagers just wanting to have a good time. That didn’t stop Brad from trying, though. He yelled and yelled and yelled, even as the creature dragged him all the way back through the woods and under the water of Lake Oscawana at the bottom of the hill.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
When Sheriff Thompson woke up, he treated the morning like any other. He kissed his family goodbye, grabbed a bacon, egg, and cheese from Mr. O’s, and headed on to the station, not thinking much about the problems from the day before.
It wasn’t until lunchtime, when he received a call about a mauled pack of raccoons in the woods off Oscawana, that he realized something might’ve been wrong. The raccoons didn’t necessarily worry him. They did slightly, as they were part of a growing trend of animal mutilations in the area, but hearing the name Oscawana reminded the Sheriff about the previous day’s events and the missing boy out on the lake.
He told Brad that if his friend hadn’t turned up by dinner, he would look into the matter further. When the boy never called, Sheriff Thompson assumed everything was all right and forgot about the incident entirely.
Just to make sure, he picked up the phone and gave Brad a call himself. He received no answer. He called Brad’s parents to see if they had heard from their son. They hadn’t. Finally, Sheriff Thompson took his boat over to Brad’s house to see if he could find him there. He wasn’t there.
What he did find was the boy’s boat and car still parked in the same spots. The garage was open, though, and the ATV was gone. It was entirely possible that Brad took it for a spin and simply left his phone at home, but something wasn’t sitting right with the Sheriff. He had a bad feeling about all this. A feeling he wished he had a day earlier. But it was eating at him now and he was determined to get to the bottom of whatever the hell was going on.
Sheriff Thompson worked his way down the street, knocking on every door he came across. Some people weren’t home. Those that were, he questioned as to whether they saw either Brad’s car or boat coming or going since yesterday afternoon. Nobody had.
At the end of the road, Sheriff Thompson came upon the Hawkins’ residence. Knowing April had been over at Brad’s house the day before, he hoped maybe she knew something. Maybe Brad invited her back over after she left or she returned to take the jet ski for another spin. The Sheriff knew he was just speculating now, grasping at imaginary straws. Still, at this point the girl was the best lead he had, however pathetic that might’ve been.
As he approached the house, Sheriff Thompson took one last look down the street and saw the freestanding garage in front of Brad’s home. He walked the whole way there and would inevitably have to walk the whole way b
ack. He then said a little prayer, hoping that he would have some good news when he did.
After descending the steep driveway, Sheriff Thompson approached the door and gave it three solid knocks, ignoring the doorbell installed on its frame. Henry answered it a moment later, equally surprised and confused by the visitor on his doorstep.
“Hey, Henry,” Sheriff Thompson greeted him with a friendly smile. “You got a minute?”
After years on the job, the Sheriff learned that most people got apprehensive when a cop showed up unannounced at their house, regardless if they had something to hide or not. A smile went a long way, and it appeared to work as Henry smiled back at him.
“Sure thing, Sheriff,” he replied. “Come in.”
Henry walked away from the door to move deeper into the house, leaving the Sheriff to close it himself as he entered.
“What can I do for you in our little corner of the lake?” Henry asked as he approached the kitchen counter and started cutting fruit with a knife.
The Sheriff hung off to the side of the counter to get a look at his host’s profile. “You haven't happened to notice anything strange lately, have you?”
Henry glanced up from his task just long enough to flash the Sheriff a raised eyebrow. “I’m living with two teenagers. You need to be a bit more specific.”
He went back to cutting the fruit before he had a chance to see Sheriff Thompson’s troubled grimace.
“I wish I could,” the Sheriff noted. “I’m just not quite sure what I’m looking for.”
Having finished cutting the fruit, Henry was now focused on putting it in a bowl, too focused to continue the conversation. Not that the Sheriff could blame him. He wasn’t exactly offering much in terms of details.
Sheriff Thompson thought about other ways to frame the issue when a boy’s laughter drew his attention. He wandered through the open sliding glass door and out onto the balcony. Looking down, the Sheriff noticed Mark and April having a water gun fight on the grass down by the dock. Mark ran around the lawn, ducking and dodging his sister’s shots like an action hero in his glory. Contrary to her brother’s enthusiasm, April sat cross-legged on the grass, barely participating in the fight. She was basically a still target for her brother to continuously pummel with water. It seemed odd to the Sheriff that the girl didn’t appear to mind getting soaked so brutally.
“What about the kids?” he asked, shouting back into the house. “Have they brought up anything weird? Either something they saw in the lake or stumbled upon in the woods?”
Henry responded from the kitchen counter. “Mark hasn’t said anything and April and I aren’t exactly what you’d call close.”
“I know what you mean,” Sheriff Thompson agreed. “She’s a tough nut to crack, that one.”
“I think it’s just a teenage girl thing,” Henry said, his voice getting louder as he approached the balcony. “I’m sure she’ll come around eventually.”
Sheriff Thompson looked over to Henry as he joined him on the balcony with two slices of apple in his hands. “You’ll have to keep me updated. My own daughter’s going to be her age pretty soon. It’ll be nice to know there’s hope for me yet.”
Henry smiled softly and extended his hand, offering the Sheriff a piece of fruit. “You have my sympathies.”
Sheriff Thompson smiled, too, a show of gratitude as he accepted the apple. As they each took a bite, the two men peered over the balcony, watching the children play below. After a short while, Henry glanced over and looked concerned by the Sheriff’s perturbed expression.
“Is something wrong, Sheriff?” he asked. “You seem troubled.”
Sheriff Thompson sighed. He didn’t move, but he was no longer watching the kids. His focus had disappeared inside his own head, recalling the images and issues that weighed on him.
“A couple of locals have been finding mutilated animal carcasses while hunting,” he said, finally.
“Oh my,” Henry gasped in shock. “You think a feral wolf or something is out there?”
As his gaze drifted up to look out over the empty lake, Sheriff Thompson shook his head with a grimace. “I don’t know what to think, but the way this one deer was torn to shreds…”
He decided to leave the sentence unfinished rather than recall the sight for the hundredth time, choosing to turn and face his host instead. “And now I have two missing persons on top of it.”
Both shocked and confused by the news, Henry’s jaw fell as his brow furrowed at the same time. “Really?”
Sheriff Thompson nodded, mournfully. “Yeah. Teenagers.”
Henry shook his head while holding on to the same unsettled expression. “That’s awful.”
As more painful memories came flooding back to him, Sheriff Thompson’s gaze again drifted out over the lake. “Add that to the fact that a boy drowned in the lake over the winter and this hasn’t been a particularly good year for Oscawana.”
Although none of this was anything new to him, saying it all out loud somehow made Sheriff Thompson feel worse.
“It makes me nervous about what’s coming next,” he confessed, humbly.
“Jeez,” Henry groaned in disbelief. “Well, teenagers are known for planning pranks. You think it could be a joke?”
Sheriff Thompson shrugged, indifferent to the theory. “Anything’s possible, but I spoke with one of them yesterday and it didn't seem like he was kidding. April was there, too, as a matter of fact.
Henry’s back instantly stiffened.
“Oh, really?” he said, curiously. “Did she…say anything to you?”
Sheriff Thompson was put off by the way Henry’s demeanor changed so abruptly. The man seemed genuinely distressed by the Sheriff’s earlier revelations, but that side of him was now gone, wiped away in an instant by a feeling of alarmed nervousness that Sheriff Thompson couldn’t quite put his finger on.
“No,” the Sheriff replied warily after studying Henry’s anxious features. “Why? Was she supposed to?”
“No. No,” Henry stammered, backtracking over his probing question. “Oh, gosh no. Not at all. I’m just concerned about her. Missing teens and dead animals. I would hate to have to explain to her parents that Oscawana isn’t safe.”
Henry smiled again, but it somehow seemed different. Forced and unnatural. Not like the genuine show of sympathy that Sheriff Thompson was used to receiving from the man.
The Sheriff wasn’t suspicious of him, at least not yet, but the interaction made him feel uneasy. The time had passed for any apprehensiveness Henry might’ve felt from a cop showing up unexpectedly at his door. This was something else. It wasn’t just that Henry was odd. That, the Sheriff could deal with. But now he felt a sudden disconnect between them, and the Sheriff was uncertain how it got there.
Whatever it was, Sheriff Thompson knew he wasn’t going to figure it today. Besides, he had his hands full at the moment and remembered the real reason why he came here.
“April might know something, though,” he said. “Mind if I ask her a few questions about it?”
“Sure,” Henry replied, casually shrugging his shoulders. “If you think you have to.”
Henry’s tone slipped back to normal. He appeared relaxed and calm, gesturing over to the stairs on the far side of the porch.
Yet there was something about the way he phrased his answer that, again, didn’t sit right with the Sheriff. While his mood seemed at ease, Henry’s choice of words hinted at something bigger.
As he turned towards the stairs, Sheriff Thompson pondered what that could be. He didn’t know Henry long. The man just moved to Putnam Valley earlier this year. He always seemed nice, though. Accommodating and kind. A man would have to be to board his niece and nephew for an entire summer.
Then why did he give the Sheriff such a bad feeling all of a sudden?
Before Sheriff Thompson had a chance to think on the matter further, a loud crash boomed throughout the valley, interrupting his thought process. He looked up as swiftly as his neck woul
d allow and managed to do so just in time to see a hundred shards of metal and debris, pieces of what used to be Paul Dutchman’s sea plane, scatter violently across the surface of the lake.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Paul Dutchman scoured the kitchen counter for a pile of envelopes that just didn’t seem to exist.
“Where’d you put the mail, Susan?” he yelled deeper into the house.
“I didn’t touch it,” his wife’s voice shouted back.
The counter wasn’t that long because the kitchen wasn’t that large. The Dutchmans purchased the small cottage on the lake to get away from their more spacious apartment in the city. They were looking for something different and quaint to escape the rat race of their normal lives, which meant keeping their summer getaway the same as when they bought it. No renovations to the layout or updates to the appliances. Just a tiny kitchen with a single stove, one shelf pantry, and a worn, wooden countertop without anything on it.
Paul scanned the empty space one last time before realizing he wasn’t crazy. “Yes, you did.”
Susan entered the doorway, irritated that she even had to make an appearance for the conversation. “I think I would know if I touched something.”
“Obviously not,” Paul scolded, gesturing to the vacant counter. “I leave the mail right here every day, and there’s only two of us in this house. So if I didn’t move it, then who did?”
Susan shrugged, apathetically indifferent to her husband’s problem. “I don't know. All I know is it wasn’t me.”
Paul finally turned to face his wife, revealing a sneering scowl so vicious it twisted as he spoke. “You think our house is haunted with a ghost? Or was it the same pesky gremlins who misplaced those diamond earrings you just had to have?”
Susan’s body trembled and a wave rushed over her face, erasing all emotion in its path. Only a blank expression remained, staring aghast at the man before her. “Why do you have to be so obnoxious?”
