by C. G. Mosley
Deputy Billy Stratton swallowed so hard John could see his Adam’s apple bob as he did so. He was clearly nervous.
“Alright, let’s get on with it,” Cochran barked, water now dripping steadily from the brim of his hat. “If you find anything, call it out over the radio immediately…that clear?”
The deputies all nodded in unison and began to move away to their respective search zones.
“Where should I go?” John asked.
The sheriff looked him up and down and shrugged. “You don’t know these woods, Milk. It would probably be best if you stay with me.”
John shook his head. “No, you’re already very undermanned for this job as it is. I’m going to carry my weight. I can find my way back to the road.”
Cochran nodded. “Alright then,” he said, and then he glanced further up the road. “I suppose you could go about a hundred yards that way and start making your way through the forest.”
“That’s too far out,” he answered and then glanced over his shoulder at the forest on the opposite side of the road. “Why isn’t anyone focusing any attention over there?”
“We were going to do that once we’ve combed this side,” the sheriff answered. “If you want to get a head start, knock yourself out.”
There was another flash of lightning and the rain poured harder. “I think that’s exactly what I’m going to do,” John said as he began to walk away.
“Fire your gun if you find anything,” Cochran called after him. “I’ll come running.”
“Will do,” John answered.
Seconds later, he disappeared within the shadows of the forest.
***
The poncho turned out to be of minimal use to John as the torrential downpour hounded him relentlessly. That, however, wasn’t the worst of it. What he hadn’t prepared for was the matter of his footwear being inadequate for the muddy conditions he now found himself in. What he needed was rain boots but unfortunately what he was wearing instead were black dress shoes.
Damn things are ruined, he thought sourly. As he wandered deeper into the forest, his mind seemed to stay focused on his shoes and where he’d be able to find new ones the next day. He’d tried using his flashlight but soon decided his chances of finding the wood ape would be much better if he kept it off. His eyes adjusted quickly to the dark environment and the lightning flashes every minute or so were a huge help for visibility.
John kept his gun firmly in his grip and his eyes scanned all directions in front of him as he continued to keep his concentration on his shoes. Suddenly, without any real understanding of why, he began to feel uneasy. At first, John had a hard time understanding what had brought on the feeling, but it clearly got worse with every step that he took. He felt as if someone, or something, was watching him. With every breath he took, it felt like whatever it was, it was getting closer to him. He abruptly whipped around to look behind him just as a flash of lightning ripped across the sky overhead. John blinked as he saw what he thought was a shadow moving quickly across the forest floor, obviously trying to avoid being seen.
Am I seeing things?
John kept his eyes on the area where he’d seen the shadow until another flash of lightning occurred. He saw nothing. A strong gust of wind tore through the forest, whipping up rain-soaked leaves as it did so. John instinctively returned his attention to where he’d been heading and as he began to move forward again, the uneasy feeling returned. Without hesitation, he whipped his head around again to look behind him. This time, he clearly saw it as the lightning flashed.
The wood ape was nearly eight feet in height, with hair so dark it was almost black. John couldn’t tell if the beast’s hair was truly that dark, or it was the raining making it appear so. He couldn’t make out any facial features at all but what he could clearly see was the thing moving toward him.
“Stop right there!” John shouted as forcefully as he could. “I mean it, stop or I’ll shoot you!”
The thought occurred to him that most likely the creature had no idea what he was saying. He wondered if it even knew what a gun was. If it didn’t, then it would most certainly not see it as a reason to stop advancing toward him.
John kept the barrel of his gun trained on the creature as it continued to lumber toward him. He walked backward but was quickly losing ground to the approaching wood ape. It soon became very apparent that the beast wasn’t going to stop. Just as John squeezed the trigger to stop it in its tracks, his heel caught a rock and he toppled backward, the shot firing innocently into the air. His bottom splashed into the squishy muck and his shoes were unable to grip the soft earth when he attempted to get up.
Before he even knew what was occurring, the wood ape reached forward and grabbed him by the ankle. It was at this point John realized he’d lost his weapon in the thick mud around him. The beast kept moving forward and dragged John behind it.
“Stop it!” he yelled while he thrashed violently to break free of its grasp.
John dug his fingers into the earth as hard as he could, a frantic yet futile attempt to stop the creature’s progress. The result of his efforts only produced long, thin trails where his fingers raked through the mud. The grip around his ankle was tight and felt like a vise. There was no point in trying to pry his leg free; he simply wasn’t strong enough.
He began to consider the possibilities ahead of him. Was he about to be bludgeoned to death? Would he be eaten alive? Could the wood ape be taking him to its den where the final thing he’d see would be the remains of young Lucas Hurst? John tried to push the thoughts aside.
Think, damnit…
Suddenly, without any warning, the wood ape stopped and released its grip.
John wasted no time in trying to crawl away. He frantically tried to get to his feet again, but his haste worked against him. Ultimately, he began to crawl as quickly as he could. All he could think about was putting as much distance between he and the wood ape as humanly possible. John soon stopped his efforts as a realization occurred to him. He glanced over his shoulder to see that the wood ape wasn’t pursuing him. It had remained in the same spot and John could see the hulking beast breathing deeply, its shoulders rising and falling slowly.
Lightning flashed again and illuminated John’s surroundings just long enough for him to get a quick look at the wood ape. The creature was staring at him and its eyes were bright and green. There was something on the ground behind it and John cringed when he realized what it was. The woods were dark again, but he could just make out the silhouette of the creature and the object mere feet behind it. John, suddenly feeling that the beast wasn’t interested in hurting him, began to crawl toward the object on the ground. When he got within ten feet of it, the wood ape bolted. John could hear it crashing through the forest, seemingly eager to get as far away from him as possible.
He could hear someone calling out to him from somewhere behind him. He almost answered them but as he realized what he was looking at, a lump rose in his throat that prevented him from responding. Lightning flashed again and his worst suspicion became reality.
“Son of a bitch,” Sheriff Cochran said somberly just as he stopped behind John. “You found him.”
Chapter 3
“Here, drink this,” Emma said as she shoved a steaming Styrofoam cup in John’s face.
He waved her off.
“I’ll pass,” he said, sounding defeated. “What I need right now is sleep.”
They were back in the sheriff’s station—specifically the breakroom—and sunrise was roughly two hours away. Emma leaned against the counter that expanded across the entire back wall of the room. She pulled the cup of coffee back and took a drink for herself.
“Take the car back to the apartment and get some sleep. If anything further is needed from you, I’ll get with you later.”
John felt that he should argue but as he glanced down at his now mud-caked pants and shoes, he knew he had no real good case to do so. Emma seemed hesitant to believe his wild tale of the wood
ape dragging him by the leg at first. She tried to suggest that maybe he’d bumped his head and since there had been so much talk about the creature prior to his encounter, perhaps he’d imagined it, or maybe even dreamed it when he’d been temporarily knocked out. He hadn’t been knocked out, of course, and it took him raising his voice at her to finally make Emma believe him. Reluctantly, he rose to his feet and prepared to leave.
“You’re right,” he said, stifling off a yawn. “I’ll get some shut-eye for a few hours and I’ll come back, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.
“No rush.” She walked over to him and gently grabbed his arm, tugging him toward the door.
“Damn, I’m not an invalid,” he grumbled.
“I know that,” she said. “But if I don’t start ushering you to the door right now, you’ll change your mind and I’ll have to spend another hour trying to convince you all over again.”
As they moved down the hallway, John caught a glimpse of Mrs. Hurst through the blinds in an office window. There was a man in a suit with her. John guessed he was probably a preacher because he appeared to be praying with her. The woman was still sobbing, and she looked much more exhausted than him. He couldn’t imagine the hell she was going through.
“Poor woman,” Emma said. “She was so hopeful when I was speaking with her after you guys left. She said she believed God was going to protect her son and get him home. I wonder how she feels about God now.”
“Well, she’s currently in there praying to him, so there’s that,” John replied. “Besides, God didn’t do this.”
Emma rolled her eyes. She did that a lot. “Well, he sure as hell let it happen.”
John shook his head and sighed. “The thing that did that to Lucas didn’t have anything to do with God. It was evil.”
They finally reached the exit and, once outside, Emma walked with him to the car.
“Are you going to be alright without the ride?” he asked as he took the keys from her.
“Are you kidding? Sheriff Cochran is my own personal chauffeur. He does whatever I ask him to do. You know that.”
John thought back to the brief conversation he and the sheriff had had about Emma on the drive to look for Lucas. He smiled. “You should go a little easier on that guy.”
“I’ll think about it,” she quipped.
“You do that,” he replied, opening the door.
Emma stared at him very hard and he could tell she wanted to ask him something but was contemplating how to do it—or whether she should do it at all.
He paused and looked at her. “Something on your mind, Honeycutt?”
She sighed and bit her lip. Her eyes looked up at the moon in the sky, partially hidden by the remnants of storm clouds that had rolled through a short time earlier.
“It’s nothing,” she muttered. “I’m sure things will make a lot more sense once you’ve had some rest and we can discuss it then.”
He raised an eyebrow and then proceeded to take his dirty coat off. “Discuss what exactly?” he asked, tossing the coat onto the passenger seat.
She smiled and shook her head. “No, it can wait. It should wait.”
John glared at her and then shut the car door. “I’m not leaving until you spit it out.”
Emma crossed her arms and closed her eyes. “Damn, I’ve got to learn to keep my mouth shut.”
“Don’t see that happening any time soon, now spit it out.”
“Fine,” she said quickly. “The wood ape.”
“What about it?”
“You really think it was Kurt Bledsoe?”
He pinched the bridge of his nose and shut his eyes, trying his best to keep his cool. “Really? I’ve got to explain this all over to you again?”
“No!” she snapped. “You don’t. Go home, get some rest. We can talk about it later.”
“Sure, and when we do, my story will be exactly the same,” he answered. “I know what the hell I saw. The damn thing wasn’t trying to hurt me. It was trying to show me the kid’s body.”
She pushed a lock of blonde hair out of her face and took a deep breath. “And you are positive that the thing had green eyes?”
“Yes, I’m positive,” he answered firmly. “The eyes appeared human. It’s just the way Cochran described them in the report you yourself completed after the incident at Walker Laboratory last year.”
“Alright,” Emma said, holding her hands up. “If that’s what you say you saw then…I guess I believe you.”
John shook his head and opened the car door. “Well, that’s mighty gracious of you,” he growled as he got behind the wheel. He slammed the door shut and then sped out of the parking lot.
Emma watched as the taillights on the car disappeared into the darkness.
We’ll see how you feel after you sleep it off, she thought defiantly.
***
“Rise and shine,” Sheriff Cochran said. He playfully knocked Emma’s propped legs off the desk in front of her. The chair she was sitting in squeaked in protest as her entire body shifted forward.
“What the hell?” she snapped, suddenly awake and annoyed.
“If you were gonna do this, why didn’t you just go with Milk?” he asked.
The sheriff plopped a ceramic mug of coffee in front of her. It slammed harder against the wooden desk than he intended and some of the dark liquid sloshed out. Emma eyed the steaming mug and then went for it.
“What time is it?”
Cochran glanced at his watch. “Almost two o’clock. You seemed to have fallen asleep while filling out that paperwork.”
“Yeah,” she replied, yawning. “I thought I could hold out until Milk got back. Apparently, I was wrong.”
The sheriff noticed a file on her desk with the words WATKINS LABORATORY written on the tab. “What the hell is this?” he grumbled, reaching for the file.
Emma slammed her down on top of it. “Not for your eyes, Sheriff,” she said. “I’m sorry.”
He shot her an icy stare. “Not for my eyes, huh? Honeycutt, I don’t know if you remember this or not, but I lived that shit and saw it with my own eyes.”
Emma looked down at her hand on top of the file and chewed at her lip. She then gradually moved her gaze up to meet Cochran’s. He was right. He knew pretty much everything in that file. The real reason she’d pulled it in the first place was to let John look at the pictures and other documents related to Kurt Bledsoe. She wanted to discuss the matter with him again when he was rested, and this time, she’d have the pictures.
“Alright,” she said after contemplating the matter for a few seconds. “I suppose you’re right.” She pulled her hand away and the folder off the desk.
He thumbed through the documents and then momentarily stopped on a photograph. “Look at his eyes,” he said, holding it up.
Emma looked at the image of the wood ape and then to the brilliantly green eyes. “Yes, I’ve heard a lot about those eyes,” she said.
“There isn’t another creature around here with eyes like this,” he said. “Reason being, this particular wood ape is part human. Milk said the one that grabbed him last night had these eyes and there is no doubt in my mind that it was Kurt Bledsoe.”
She sighed and took another gulp of coffee. “Okay, so here is what I don’t understand. If you guys are so hell-bent on that wood ape being good-hearted, part-human, Kurt Bledsoe, then why the hell didn’t he intervene and save Lucas Hurst’s life?”
Cochran flipped through a few more documents and shook his head. “I can’t answer that,” he said. “Maybe he tried and was too late.”
“Or maybe sweet little Kurt Bledsoe was preparing to make a meal of Milk but was spooked when you showed up suddenly. Maybe Lucas didn’t fill his belly—did you ever consider that?”
He gave her a sour look and then tossed the file back onto the desk. Some of the paper inside it came out and spread across the wooden surface. “You are one stubborn-ass woman, you know that?”
He walked away and Emma took the op
portunity to flip him off when his back was turned.
Sheriff Cochran made his way further into the building until he reached his office. No sooner did he sit down at his desk did his phone ring. He glanced over at it and gave it the same sour look he’d just shot Emma. The phone was apparently unfazed because it continued to ring. He cursed under his breath and snatched it up.
“Yes, Shelly?” he grumbled.
“Sheriff, there’s a man up here to see you,” she answered.
“What does he want?”
“He says he has some information about the incident last night with the Hurst boy.”
Cochran suddenly perked up. “I’ll be right there,” he said, slamming the phone down.
As he made his way back up the hallway, he paused and motioned for Emma to follow him when he reached her. She said nothing but got up and followed him the rest of the way. Once they reached the lobby, they met a man dressed in overalls, a white T-shirt, and a red baseball cap waiting for them. He appeared anxious and desperate to speak to someone in authority as quickly as possible.
“Sheriff Cochran,” the man said, holding out his hand. “My name’s Clifford Lowe, but everyone calls me Cliff.”
Cochran nodded and shook his hand firmly. “Nice to meet you, Cliff,” he replied with a smile. “This young lady here beside me is Emma Honeycutt. She’s an agent with the federal government. Shelly here said you had some information regarding the incident last night?”
Cliff seemed to ignore the question and eyed Emma curiously. “Sheriff, is she F.B.I.?”
Cochran glanced at her and chuckled. “No, not at all,” he murmured. “We could tell you which specific department she works for, but then we’d have to kill you.”
Cliff’s eyes widened but stayed on Emma. She stared right back at him and forced a smile.
The sheriff’s gaze moved back and forth between them for a few awkward beats before he finally said, “So, how about that information you’ve got for us, Cliff?”
Cliff finally broke eye contact with Emma and glanced over at him. “Oh, yes,” he muttered, seemingly coming out of a trance. “The wood ape that took the boy…I know exactly which one it was.”
