Rogue

by C. G. Mosley

  “Something else on your mind, Agent Milk?” Emmerich asked curiously.

  John waited a beat longer before finally deciding it wouldn’t hurt to broach the subject. “What about the rogue wood ape?” he asked.

  “What about it?”

  “Are you not concerned about it? I mean, why are you people not putting forth just as much effort to catch it as you are Kurt Bledsoe?”

  “I suggest you ask Sheriff Cochran that same question,” Emmerich answered. “He knows better than most that studying wood apes is nothing new to us. However, studying a human/wood ape hybrid is a much different ball game.”

  “So, you’re not going to help us?” John asked, almost pleadingly. “The thing killed a kid.”

  “And that is concerning,” Dr. Emmerich said. “Actually, if I were you…”

  His words trailed off as if he’d reconsidered what he was going to say.

  “What?” John asked, urging him to continue. “If you were me…what?”

  “Well,” Emmerich said, and he paused again as if he were considering the best way to phrase the statement.

  “Spit it out,” John said impatiently.

  “Very well. I was just going to say, given the fact that this particular wood ape is rogue and has seemingly now developed a taste for human flesh—a child’s flesh specifically…I just think perhaps Halloween would not be a good idea this year.”

  John considered what he’d said a moment, trying to understand. “Are you saying we should cancel Halloween in Dunn this year?”

  “There will be a lot of young children out and about collecting candy,” Dr. Emmerich said matter-of-factly.

  “So, you think this thing is going to go after another child as soon as it gets the chance?”

  “I’m saying it’s a good possibility,” Emmerich replied. “It wouldn’t be a popular decision to cancel the evening festivities, but is it worth the gamble?”

  John felt a headache coming on. He hadn’t considered any of what the doctor was saying but he had to admit that it made a lot of sense.

  “Thanks for your insight,” John said. “I’ll have your specimen ready to go first thing November first.”

  “We will be there at eight a.m.”

  “Understood,” John answered.

  All he got was dial tone in response.

  Chapter 9

  “I can’t let you do that,” Sheriff Cochran said, his face stern and expressionless.

  Cliff’s jaw dropped open and he held his hands out, palms up. “Sheriff, how is anyone supposed to know if we trap the thing if I don’t hang around?”

  Cochran shook his head. “How are we supposed to know the thing has been trapped when you’re dead and can’t tell us?”

  “Sheriff, this would not be my first time to hide and watch,” Cliff continued. His eyes were wide and pleading. His tone wasn’t frustration but more helpless.

  Cochran sighed as he contemplated what Cliff was suggesting. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, it would be extremely helpful to have someone nearby to monitor the traps. If the wood ape was caught, they’d have to move very quickly.

  “Alright,” the sheriff said finally, his voice full of reluctance. “I suppose you know far more about this thing than I ever will.”

  Cliff smiled and nodded in agreement. “When we catch it, you’ll be the first to know.”

  Cochran bit his lip. “I better be,” he muttered, turning away.

  ***

  Emma shifted in her bed uncomfortably, her face contorting from the pain. “No, absolutely not,” she grumbled while the bed squeaked. “There is no way in hell we’re going to cancel Halloween.”

  John drew near her and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Please sit still,” he said. “The more you rest, the quicker you’ll get back on your feet.”

  She seemed to ignore him. “Although, I have to admit that bastard Emmerich makes some good points. We should start making plans with the sheriff to make a strict curfew on Halloween.”

  John nodded and refrained the urge to roll his eyes at her ignoring him.

  “And I think it’s a good idea to contain trick or treating to the town square. It’ll give us a tighter area to control.”

  “I don’t know if that’ll go over well with the people of this county,” John said.

  She sighed and rubbed her eyes. “Yeah, you’re probably right,” she said. “And I can’t say that I blame them.”

  “Well, up until now, the presence of wood apes in the area has been more or less a myth,” John said. “The disappearance and death of Lucas Hurst has changed all that. People are talking and they know what’s going on. I believe if we start declaring martial law here, it’s going to do nothing but ratchet up their fears even more.”

  “So, you’re saying we do nothing?”

  He considered it a moment, then said, “I think your idea about a curfew is a good idea. Outside of that, I think that the sheriff’s department needs to patrol every area with a heavy presence of trick or treaters. We should try to give the illusion that things are as normal as we can. Mr. Cold wouldn’t want us bringing unnecessary attention to any of the paranormal goings on here. He’d want us to try and eliminate that attention.”

  “You’re right,” Emma agreed. She then looked down at her leg, wrapped in a heavy cast.

  “So, you’re going to be wearing that for several weeks?”

  “Yes,” she grumbled. “I suppose I shouldn’t complain. I should be happy to be alive.”

  “Yeah, you should,” John replied.

  “How is Kurt Bledsoe?” she asked.

  “He’s resting comfortably in a jail cell,” he answered. “Shelly has some experience working in a vet. Turned out to be a big help.”

  “Well, isn’t that convenient?”

  “I’d say so,” John said. “He’ll be safe there for now, but as of November first, we will have to turn him over to Walker Laboratory.”

  Emma turned away and her face turned a bit somber. “I owe him my life,” she said. “Do you think they will take care of him?”

  “I do,” he answered. “They wanted to take him immediately, but I didn’t think it was a good idea. Once he’s healed and in that lab, you and I are going to check up on him regularly to make sure they do what they say they’re going to do.”

  “And if they don’t?”

  “Then we get Cold involved,” John said. “He’ll make sure that they do.”

  Emma nodded, seemingly happy with that response. “Halloween is tomorrow. There isn’t a lot of time to prepare,” she said.

  “We’re back to that again, are we?” John asked, placing his hands in his coat pockets.

  “Sorry, I just can’t get it out of my head,” she replied. “I’ve got a bad feeling about it.”

  John shifted his feet and then decided to sit on the edge of the bed near her injured leg. “Look, Sheriff Cochran already had big plans for him and his men to be on patrol throughout the night. All we need to do now is get a little more organized on the specifics of this effort and what the contingency plan is if things go bad.”

  “Do you think things will go bad?”

  “No,” he replied without hesitation. “I don’t. As a matter of fact, Cochran has been consulting with Cliff Lowe on the matter. No one knows that thing better than he. Perhaps he’ll know something that we can use to our benefit to make it a non-issue.”

  She screwed up her face. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  “What?” he asked, confused.

  “We’re not placing the fate of hundreds of children in the hands of Clifford Lowe,” Emma said.

  “Of course not,” John scoffed. “But it’s a start.”

  He glanced down at the white cast wrapped around Emma’s leg then retrieved a black marker from his coat pocket.

  “I came prepared,” he muttered as he pulled the cap off with his teeth.

  Emma smiled and looked on as he signed his name in big block letters.

  ***


  “How is he?” Sheriff Cochran asked the second he walked through the front door of the station.

  “Resting,” Shelly said, rising to meet him. “Sheriff, I’ve never seen anything like that. Are we in danger here keeping that thing in the building?”

  Cochran smiled at her and gave her a pat on the back. “It’s fine, trust me,” he assured her.

  He began to walk away, but then paused to look back at her. “Are you alright?” he asked.

  She looked back at him and he could see the tiredness in her eyes. “I’m fine, Sheriff,” she said. “It’s just a lot to take in.”

  He sighed, removed his hat, and then turned it in his hands as he considered what to say next. He knew he could trust Shelly, but what she’d just been through and saw was more than he’d ever wanted her to endure.

  “Shelly, I apologize, but I have to ask…”

  “Sheriff, I’m not going to say a thing,” she answered, knowing full well what he was going to ask. “You know better than to assume anything different.”

  He nodded and forced another smile. “Go home and get some rest,” he said. “I’m going to need you here tomorrow. It’s going to be a busy day.”

  Shelly stared a moment and he feared briefly she was going to argue. “Alright,” she said finally. “I’ll be back first thing tomorrow. If something changes with the…”

  “I’ll call you if I need you,” Cochran said. “I’m sure everything will be fine until morning.”

  She nodded, then retrieved her purse and left the building.

  After making a brief stop in his office to review the mail that had been left on his desk, Cochran headed for the jail cell where Kurt Bledsoe would be resting and healing from his wounds. The cell was usually reserved for use as a drunk tank, and it was the first one to see upon visiting the jail. Cochran placed his hands on the bars and leaned forward. The wood ape that Kurt Bledsoe had become didn’t have the same smell as the other ones he’d encountered. Though it wasn’t a pleasant smell, it was nowhere near intolerable or sickening. The dark fur on Kurt’s chest rose and fell with each breath his new frame took. Cochran thought back to the events of nearly a year ago. He remembered the horrifying situation he found himself in once he’d become trapped deep in the bowels of Walker Laboratory. It was there where Kurt Bledsoe saved his life by taking on an alien creature that he still had trouble believing was real.

  Kurt suddenly moved, rolling slightly onto his side. He was laying on the floor with a rolled-up towel serving as a makeshift pillow under his head. He made a slight growl when he moved, and Cochran could tell it originated from pain. He was just about to walk away when Kurt rolled again, this time toward him. His green eyes flickered open and there was a long moment where the two of them stared at one another.

  “I suppose I’ve never taken a moment to properly thank you,” Cochran said. He slowly knelt so he’d be closer to where Kurt was laying. The green eyes followed him. “I want you to know that Marie is fine. She moved over to New Orleans. She just had to get away. She said you’d understand.”

  Kurt blinked but his mouth remained a straight line. Though there was no response that Cochran could see, it was very apparent that Kurt was listening to his every word.

  “And you’re probably wondering about your best friend Tony,” he continued. “He’s good. He’s attending college at State. Every time I speak to him, he asks if I’ve seen any sign of you. I can’t wait until the next time he asks me that question.”

  Kurt continued to stare.

  “Damn, I wish you could talk,” Cochran said, a tad frustrated. “I wish you could tell me what you know of the rogue. I’m sure you know something that would help us out.”

  Kurt’s eyes widened and his brow furrowed slightly at the mention of the rogue wood ape.

  “Sore subject, I see,” Cochran said with a chuckle. “I appreciate you taking him on to protect Agent Honeycutt. She wouldn’t be here anymore if it weren’t for you.”

  His expression softened as he continued to listen to the sheriff.

  “Kurt, I’m fairly certain that you understand me, so hear this,” he said, moving his face a bit closer to the bars. “In a couple of days, I’m going to be forced to hand you back over to Walker Laboratory. How do you feel about that?”

  Kurt moved his massive head upward so he could look at the ceiling of the cell. All at once, his entire demeanor seemed to change at the mention of the laboratory.

  “You’re not keen on that idea,” Cochran said as he watched.

  For a long moment, he didn’t know what to say. He just watched Kurt lay there, staring at the ceiling.

  “I’m sorry, Kurt. I’m so sorry that this has happened to you.”

  Kurt closed his eyes tightly and the sheriff looked on sadly as a single tear rolled down the young man’s new face.

  Chapter 10

  Cliff Lowe found a comfortable log to sit on and stayed there for the remainder of the day. It became quite a chore to keep his eyes open, but he was determined to stay focused on watching and listening for the rogue wood ape that was responsible for murdering Lucas Hurst. While he waited, Cliff did something he didn’t ordinarily do. He took in the sights before him and made a point to observe his beautiful surroundings. He took a deep breath and his nose picked up the scent of pine. It was truly a wonderful place for one to sit and think, he decided. Over the years, he’d spent so much time watching the wood ape and studying its habits that he had completely forgotten the beauty and solitude that the forest provided. It was good for the soul.

  Despite his newfound appreciation for the forests of Baker County, Mississippi, Cliff found himself often yawning. His eyelids began to grow more and more heavy. There were many times he considered taking a brief nap, but he knew full well the danger such a careless act would bring. Cliff also knew that Sheriff Cochran was depending on him to alert him to any sightings of the rogue wood ape as soon as possible. He had traps set, sure, but he was not completely sure just how effective they would be.

  As the minutes and hours ticked by, the sun drifted further into the western sky. Before long, the world around him began to darken. To his dismay, the wood ape seemingly stayed away from its den for the remainder of the day. Cliff began to accept that the creature probably would not be returning until the morning. After some careful consideration, he decided that he would be unable to see the wood ape return at sunrise if he is asleep. With reluctance, he finally trudged back to his home, ultimately deciding a few hours of sleep in his bed would do him good.

  Cliff took a quick shower, brushed his teeth, and then put on the clothes he planned on wearing the following day. When he awoke from his slumber, there would be no time to waste. He’d simply roll out of bed and head straight into the forest to check the traps. Minutes after his head hit the pillow, he was snoring and fast asleep.

  ***

  The annoying repetitive tone of the alarm clock on the nightstand next to him caused Cliff to sit up immediately upon hearing it. Just as he’d planned, Cliff grabbed a heavy coat and then headed into the cool, damp air just moments before twilight. He shoved his right hand into his coat pocket and felt the cool steel of the Colt 45 in his palm. His hand on the weapon seemed to give him comfort and strangely kept the building anxiety he’d been experiencing in check. As he neared the area where the wood ape den would be found, he noticed how eerily quiet the forest had become. It was normal for that time of the morning, he knew, but there was a tension in the air that seemed to suggest something else was contributing to the lack of sounds.

  When the entry of the den came into view, Cliff glanced over at the first trap he’d set only to find it had not been tripped. The other traps were difficult to see in the dim light and he soon realized he’d have to get closer. He had not been so nervous about venturing near the den when Sheriff Cochran had been with him. Another set of eyes—and a man with a gun—had made him a lot more comfortable.

  Cliff pulled the Colt 45 from his pocket fo
r the first time. With careful steps, he padded across the leaves and pine straw to make as little noise as possible so he could get a visual on the other traps. The next one that came into view was still set just as the first one had been. Cliff sighed and began to wonder if the entire effort had been in vain. He felt his heart rate increase as he moved past the entry of the creature’s den, but it was necessary to get a good look at the next trap. It too was still set, but something else caught his eye that gave him a chill. The leaves on the ground were splattered with something dark and wet. It was clearly blood.

  The sight made Cliff stop dead in his tracks as he began to realize that one of the traps had indeed worked. The location of the blood, however, gave him another unsettling realization. The trap may have indeed been tripped by the wood ape, but it was apparently unsuccessful in keeping the beast immobilized. Slowly, Cliff began to back away. Suddenly, he couldn’t help but wonder what he was doing there in the first place. It had only been four years ago when the very beast he was trying to trap had grabbed him and nearly killed him.

  What the hell am I doing?

  Cliff turned and his brisk walk evolved into a jog. The desire to keep his movements quiet had disappeared and were now replaced with his instinctual desire to stay alive. As he again made his way past the entry to the wood ape’s den, a low growl erupted from within the primitive structure. The sound was sinister and terrifying. Cliff began to run, and no sooner had he begun to hit his stride, the wood ape burst from within the den. It threw both of its long arms above its head and released a terrifying howl of rage.

  Cliff could not resist the urge to look over his shoulder as he ran. The wood ape glared at him and it was obvious the creature remembered that Cliff was the person responsible for the loss of one of its eyes. The jaws of one of the bear traps was clamped down onto the right wrist of the wood ape. Its hairy arm was matted with blood and the large hand was enveloped to the point that it was useless. Despite the beast’s injury, Cliff knew firsthand that it was quick and there would be almost no chance of outrunning it if it decided to go after him.