by Josh Olsen
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 s
ide 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.
