The Lumberjack

by Erik Martin Willén

  Slowly, the prey looked up, to stare at a person who sat in a comfortable armchair, his upper body hidden in shadow. When they realized the floor was covered in plastic, they both screamed loudly.

  Nero waited for the storm to calm down.

  “I’m confused, Anthony and Eddie.” He used their names to make it more personal. “Both of you are blaming the other, so I find myself on the horns of a dilemma. You see, that both of you are guilty is a fact; but in the end, I’d rather just deal with the one who originally came up with the idea of killing the kittens, because it had to be only one of you.”

  Anthony shouted, “You doing all this for some fucking cats?”

  Nero raised his eyebrows and gave the prey a strange look. Again the blaming started, but now both prey got more and more courage back as they listened to each other’s lies. Finally Anthony got some of his wits back, too. Or so he thought. “Hey, man, think you so tough, why don’t you just release me and we go man-on-man, you and me. Tough guy cracker motherfucker.”

  Nero smiled inside, and then he leaned forward and said, in a perfect imitation of Sir Anthony Hopkins in Silence of the Lambs, “You’re trying to test me. I will eat the guilty one with some fava beans and a nice bottle of Chianti. Now: who’s the guilty one?”

  Silence, and then both boys looked at each other; and for a moment, their reaction caught Nero off guard. Both looked at him with dead eyes, and then came the threats. Finally, there they are, their true selves, something that no one can hide from in the end: true psychopathic sadists, he thought.

  Had it been a person with a decent character in their places, he or she would have begged; but never a monster, once unleashed. Now I have the both of you, guilty as charged.

  Before either victim realized what had happened, Nero had moved swiftly; and with surgical precision, he sliced off the left ear of each, using an old, rusty, but very sharp knife.

  Ten minutes later, after much screaming from pain and horror, they calmed down, still breathing heavily and crying some; and before any of the prey could make threats again, Nero spoke to them for the last time.

  “I’ll have this for dessert, and later I’ll come back for some testicles tartare.”

  He walked towards the stairs; and suddenly he tripped. Nero cursed aloud, and his fall seemed genuine and painful. There was a snapping sound when he hit the ground, and he rolled around, screaming in pain. He rolled back and forth while glancing at the prey. Yes, there was the hope in their eyes again.

  “Oh my God, oh my God, I must have broken it.” With those words he ran back upstairs, holding his forearm, leaving the knife behind him.

  Nero let go of his arm, then walked upstairs and into a room where his second skin was strung up on a scaffold, tossing aside the green twig he’d use to mimic the sound of a broken bone. He looked over the suit.

  There was some damage to the bear skin, and even to the inner layer, which was made of Dragon body armor interspersed with Kevlar. The exoskeleton itself, constructed of a high-tech titanium alloy, extremely light and strong, also needed some repair. He would fix everything before he returned to Skull Creek. But would he have the time? There was some serious damage here.

  Once in a while he glanced at several images on a computer screen, which displayed the two morons downstairs. He had turned off the volume, tired of listening to their blabber. In between their cries of pain and fright, they lay there blaming and screaming at each other. If it took too long, he would just go down there and snap their necks. Nero didn’t torture…well, he might play with his prey like cats do, but he wasn’t a sadist like the two downstairs.

  Finally, the idiots found the knife; and what did they do when they got loose? Both tried to stand up and take a swing at each other! Nero walked over to the door leading to the basement and rattled the lock, then he bumped into the door a few times.

  The prey heard him, and stopped bickering. Even after they cut themselves loose, they fell to the floor several times because neither idiot realized that their hands and feet were useless until the blood flow through them normalized again. Eventually, the boneheads managed to stand up.

  They looked around the place for weapons, found some tools, and then, to Nero’s surprise, they actually used the stairs. When he turned the key in the lock, both prey ran back down into the basement. They found another door in the back, and entered a room that would remind anyone of a midlevel dungeon, with horrible tools on the walls—sometimes used by Nero to modify and repair his second skin—that inspired them to move faster toward the only entrance leading outside.

  Nero opened the basement door and shouted angrily after them. Out they ran, clumsy little pecker-heads clad in only their underwear. Had they surveyed the basement more carefully, they would have found a large, advanced first aid box, and a fridge containing some water and even some food. After all, Nero wanted—or rather, needed—a challenge. Probably wouldn’t be one now though, he thought sadly. Sometimes life wasn’t fair, not at all.

  They didn’t try to get inside the house and take care of me like they promised, he thought, a little disappointed. However, it was expected: one thing all sadists, rapists, and sociopaths seemed to have in common was that they were all cowards. Had it been three of them, then there would most definitely be an alpha emerging, and they would have tried to get inside the house.

  Nero tossed the disgusting ears into a trashcan; he would burn them to ash later. Cannibalism was as foreign to him as it was to any other normal person. The idea of it sure scared the hell out of the prey, though.

  He suddenly lost interest in the prey outside, running for their lives. They wouldn’t be any challenge at all, and he did have to tend to his second skin. Well, he’d done it now, letting them take off into the forest.

  He walked over to the kitchen table and prepared his supper, a salad with some bread croutons and vinaigrette. He had baked bread, too, and the steam from it gave the kitchen a nice, homey fragrance. Nero carefully prepared a cheese platter with ten different cheeses, all imported from Europe. With his supper, he would enjoy a bottle of perfectly chilled Alsace.

  As the wine was breathing to perfection, he walked outside on the porch and drank some fresh, cold, clear water from a bottle while leaning against the railing. Suddenly, a solution to his problem of hunting down the pray emerged—literally emerged, from the forest. A large black-and-gray wolf regarded him calmly. It was enormous compared to an average wolf, and its sheer size would scare the wits out of just about anyone. Not Nero, of course. He whistled softly, and the beast moved submissively toward him, whining and snarling, with its head bowed and bushy tail between its back legs. Nero scratched the beast behind its ears. It plopped down on the porch, and then lay on its back for him to pet its chest.

  Along the tree line were over thirty pair of eyes observing the strange scene.

  “You’re hungry, aren’t you, my dear Alpha wanna-be? I was going to leave them for you and your family…but that isn’t what we wants now is it? We wants to hunt, don’t we?”

  The wolf rolled over and sat up like a trained dog, with its tongue hanging out as it breathed heavily, looking at Nero with eager anticipation.

  “What the hell. It’s your lair too.”

  He motioned with his arm and made a growling sound; and with that, the giant wolf took off into the forest, followed by its pack, which had been watching curiously. Nero looked after his pups, smiling; he needed to take care of his second skin after he had eaten, and then focus on a more in-depth plan to take care of the primary prey in Skull Creek.

  * * * * *

  OUTSIDE, THE forest was dead silent. Ted Hagglund, AKA Tarben Nero Hammond, listened to Beethoven while enjoying his supper outside on the porch, watching the sun set over the mountains. Nero liked Beethoven; it made him calm.

  Wolves howled in the far distance.

  Sally: “To summarize; the political crisis and the millions of refugees from the Middle East and Africa are splitting a once-unified Europ
e. More on this during our late news report this evening. Over to you, Richard.”

  Richard: “In South Africa, near the border of Botswana and Zimbabwe, another mass grave has been found containing six to eight bodies. It appears to be similar to the mass grave discovered earlier this year in Namibia, where eleven bodies were found. Two of those bodies have been identified as Americans, and authorities are still keeping their names from the public. Some of the remains appear to be those of local poachers who disappeared a year ago. The FBI has sent representatives to aid in that investigation. Whether or not they will also investigate the latest mass grave we don’t yet know; they have yet to comment.

  “Now for some fresh Entertainment News. Believe it or not, we have more to report from the tiny mountain town of Skull Creek. Several days ago, we reported on a possible homicide and a man-eating grizzly bear. Authorities are still searching for the grizzly, which they intend to put down. Your turn, Sally.”

  Sally: “You might remember we also mentioned the serious multi-car auto accident that occurred outside Skull Creek at about the same time. Well, here’s something new. Remember Christina Dawn? As a famous child star, she had several blockbuster movies, but her fortune hasn’t been nearly as great as an adult actor, especially these past few years. Now, perhaps, she’s a falling star—and when we say falling, we mean it literary. Take a look at these images.”

  A short clip followed of Christina rappelling down the rescue truck ladder, then falling a few feet. The image froze. Another picture appeared, a glamour shot of Christina.

  Richard: Yes, we have confirmed the fallen star really is Christina Dawn. Apparently, she helped save the day with the local fire rescue team. We’ll have more on this extraordinary news once we can reach Christina for a comment.

  Sally: “Some of these stars must really be desperate—literally trying to hang on to their stardom.”

  Laughter in the studio.

  Richard: “Boy, Sally, Skull Creek really lives up to its name these days.”

  More laughter.

  Sally: “Next we have Paul with the latest weather forecast.”

  * * * * *

  “PLEASE SHUT it off,” Christina told the nurse who was helping her get dressed.

  “Is that really you?”

  “Sadly, yes.”

  Christina left the hospital that day, but not after she had signed four autographs—her first in Skull Creek.

  Outside waited two of Tom Billing’s security people, both dressed casually, trying to fit in with the surroundings. The sun shone bright and the sky was clear, the air smelling insanely fresh. Must be the oxygen emitted by all these huge trees, she decided, as she glared at the security men.

  Holding up his hands in a defensive posture, one declared, “Mr. Billing only wants us here to make sure you’re all right. We’ll leave soon, or whenever you want us to. He did, however, insist we check out your land and see if the bear is still around.”

  “Thank you, Peter, I know the old man is a bit protective.”

  “He only wants the best for the people he cares about.”

  Christina turned to the second man, “I know, Kevin. By the way, any news about the kitten?”

  Kevin answered, “It’s too small to be adopted, but the vet has your name unless the real owner shows up. She doubts that anyone will show, so we put your name up for adoption.”

  “Thanks, guys.”

  Kevin drove the black Chevy SUV down Main Street and stopped outside Hancock Tool Supply. Peter got out and opened the door for Christina, and then Kevin drove off. At first Christina felt uneasy, looking around because she didn’t want to draw any attention to herself. She whispered to Peter, “Please let me get the door next time.”

  He just nodded and backed away from the main entrance.

  “Christina, hey there, they let you out this morning? I thought it was this afternoon? Frank and I were going to pick you up,” Claire shouted from across the street, waving.

  Christina stopped a moment to take in the strange scene taking place across the street. Claire walked on the sidewalk dragging a cart. At first Christina thought she had grocery bags on it, and she actually did have some, but there was also a passenger, sitting high and mighty, staring backwards at the scenery: Winston.

  Christina clasped her hands over her mouth, trying to hold back laughter, but she failed utterly when Winston barked and Claire stopped, rolling her eyes at Christina. Winston struggled of the cart, walked over to a fire hydrant, and marked his territory; and then he really struggled while climbing back up into the cart.

  Christina remembered that either Frank or Claire had said something about rolling Winston when they first met, but she hadn’t put much thought into it until now, and she couldn’t hold back her laughter; but she did try to subdue it. From behind and to her side, she heard, “Go ahead and laugh. Christina, that dog is incorrigible. Met my match with that one.”

  Frank dried his hands on a cloth while looking at Claire as she patiently let some traffic pass. They honked their horns at Winston, who apparently was a town favorite. Winston ignored everyone, remaining regally on his throne as Claire crossed the street. Frank helped his wife with the cart and groceries, while Winston stepped off and bullied himself into the store. As he entered, he barked, informing everyone that he was back and that no one had better be in his chair.

  “You all right, Christina?”

  “I’m good. How’s Nugget?”

  “Sorry I didn’t come and visit; been busy and all. Nugget is getting better. He’s in the back, hopefully not in Winston’s chair.”

  A flurry of loud barking from the back told them a different story.

  “Come on in, Christina. Just have to check on the little ones.”

  Another loud, protesting bark made Frank hurry.

  “Claire, I need to pick up some supplies and such before I go back home,” Christina noted.

  “No worries, Christina, we’ll get you what you need. I can’t say how happy we are that you bought the property!”

  “I’ve been looking for a new place for quite some time now, and I know that this is it. It just feels right, despite my misadventures!”

  “Well, since you’re going to live here, you might want to get to know some of our friends. This weekend there’ll be a Hee Haw Party at the Old Red Barn, and it’s a good way to meet some of your new neighbors.”

  Claire bit her tongue, knowing full well that this might not be something Christina would enjoy, given her background, and she held her breath. Christina noticed the tension. She smiled and said, “I’d love to come. I might have to wear a pirate patch over my black eye, though.”

  “Oh, come now, that bruise is almost gone. Your friend?” Claire nodded her head towards Peter, who stood in the back of the store looking at something. “Saw you come with him and another fella.”

  “Friends of Mr. Billing, actually, only here for a short while.”

  As several customers entered the store, Claire said, “Why don’t you join Frank in the back, and I’ll be with you guys shortly.” Claire looked over at Peter. “You’re welcome too.”

  Frank was in the kitchen, putting on some fresh coffee. Christina looked around, and Frank nodded his head towards the living room; and there on Winston’s chair lay a patched-up Nugget. Winston lay on the floor nearby, waiting impatiently for his opportunity to reclaim his throne. Hunter showed up from a back room, wagging his tail; Christina kneeled and petted him, while talking that baby-talk people sometimes used when talking to dogs. A pitiful whine from Nugget let her know that he, too, wanted to be petted.

  “Is it okay to pet Nugget?” she asked Frank.

  “Sure, just don’t touch the bandage.”

  Christina walked over, and Nugget suddenly struggled and got down on the floor. Winston rose immediately and went to stand next to the chair, barking triumphantly.

  “Crap, stupid dog,” Frank muttered, and hurried across the room, checking on Nugget’s bandage.


  “I’m sorry, I…”

  “Not your fault, hon, he would sooner or later have needed to move anyway. It’s just that I’d rather be the one to carry him. Dogs don’t realize how much they’re hurt sometimes. Their loyalty is overwhelming.”

  Nugget whined and lay down on the floor on a blanket, and Christina kneeled next to him while carefully stroking his head. Hunter soon joined them, while Winston reminded Frank impatiently that he needed help getting into his armchair.

  “What happened?” Christina asked eventually. “Claire said you guys had a brush with a bear or something.”

  “We think it was a big brown bear or a grizzly, but we’re not sure.”

  “Weren’t there two dogs? I thought Hunter was also hurt?”

  “No, the other dog was a police K-9, Officer Whitney’s German Shepherd, Tango.”

  “Is he okay?”

  There was a pregnant silence, and then Frank shook his head slowly. In a low voice, he replied, “He didn’t make it, I’m afraid. He’ll be buried this afternoon with honors and all that.” Frank had tears in his eyes, but he shook off his somber mood. “So, coffee?” he asked cheerfully.

  He poured three cups, and when Claire joined them with Peter, he grabbed a fourth and filled it, too. “We can’t say enough how happy we are that you want to buy the lodge, but after everything that’s happened, are you really sure?” the older man asked.

  “Frank, I’m sure. All these things happening…they’re just life, and me learning how to live in Skull Creek. This place is definitely my new home, and even though I don’t know that many people in town, what I hear so far is mostly good. Besides, Mr. Billing made me sign the same documents you guys did, so now it’s my property like it or not.”

  “Yeah, well, we do have some shitheads here too. Heard what them boys did to you. Half the town knows, and I doubt we’ll be seeing them around here anymore.”

  “We have that kind back in L.A. too. Those sorts of people are everywhere, I’m afraid.”

  Claire joined in the conversation. “Afraid you’re right, but I see Mr. Billing left you with some of his soldiers.”