The Lumberjack

by Erik Martin Willén

  Peter and Kevin knocked on the back door, and after saying said hello to both Nugget and Hunter, they joined the others. Claire handed both a cup each of steaming hot coffee.

  “So, girls, time to get to bed, it’s getting late,” Peter stated.

  Both Christina and Tammy scowled at him; Peter just shrugged. Finally Christina admitted, “He’s right, Tammy we’re going to need some rest before we go rafting tomorrow.”

  “You’re doing what? In this weather? I don’t think so!” Kevin protested.

  Tammy brushed by him and patted his cheek, hard.

  “Oh yes we are, my dear.”

  “Are you two insane?” A stunned Kevin and Peter stared at the girls when they followed Frank into the store.

  * * * * *

  THE STORM had returned, and with it, so had Nero. He drove his truck slowly, following a long line of cars and trucks away from Skull Creek and up into the mountains. However, they met as many vehicles going towards the town as there were leaving.

  It seemed that the authorities had finally gotten some measure of control over almost everything. Many vehicles from other roads closed in on Skull Creek, and every hotel, bar, salon, and seasonal night club quickly filled up. People hadn’t been discouraged from visiting Skull Creek by news of the riot; if anything, the news had encouraged them to join in the party, despite the often-repeated footage of the leaping tiger taking down George the cameraman. Numerous Harleys bearing men either burly and hairy or small and wiry—there seemed to be only two types of bikers—were interspersed among the cars, flashing their club emblems on their jackets. And of course, there were more media trucks.

  Nero took a shortcut through the woods, and eventually he reached his current dwelling. He had the perfect opportunity to take care of some final entertainment before he left here and returned to his home far to the north; perhaps he would make it after all? He thought of the letter he had sent to Einar Leeu; perhaps it was a bit premature. Then again, he could always send another. He went inside and picked up a large crate that normally would have taken two people to carry. He placed it in his truck in the hidden compartment where he had once put the two young men, passed out with an oxygen tank between them. He moved the tank; he had refilled it before he returned to Skull Creek, just in case he needed to bring some entertainment with him before he left.

  He drove for over an hour, to a preselected area, where he hid his truck. He took a few deep breaths, inhaling the clean air while enjoying the rain showering him. Nero drank some of his homemade herb tea and ate several energy bars. He finished his meal by chewing on a handful of coca leaves. Once he’d finished eating, he removed his body armor and homemade exoskeleton from the truck. He checked on the rigging and the various springs, and finally examined the bear fur with the attached, hollow head. At the moment, it smelled clean; but that would soon change, once he had dosed it with the stink.

  Finally, he put on his second skin. Now he could finish this season’s hunt in peace. He had to choose between removing the seed—the wealthy landowner, Mrs. Tulip—or returning to the mine and finishing up his work there. Most of the mine workers would be in Skull Creek getting drunk, he figured…well, once the authorities had cleaned up all the mess. He smirked as he thought of it.

  He smiled even more when he thought of Christina Dawn and her friend. But they were forbidden fruit. He sighed; something inside him had woken up when he had seen Christina.

  That he should stop for now and return home he no longer contemplated; he was too far gone. He wanted to do more; he had to do more. It was an inner force that urged him on, and now it was time to destroy the mining operation and hunt down any weak two-leggeds that might still be there.

  It was still dark outside, with the exception of the streetlights. Malik stood dead calm, waiting outside the Mayor’s office, the anger building up inside him like a volcano waiting to erupt. He was sure the politicians behind the closed door were screaming and planning for the next scapegoat to be led towards the altar for sacrifice. If it was him, then be that as it may, because the only thing he had on his mind was the fierce desire to hunt down his best friend’s killer. His only friend’s killer.

  Malik had examined the situation, and had come to the conclusion that when his friend had come to him in a time of need and urgency, he had turned his back on him. Carlos’s story about a monster chasing him for fifty years…he should have embraced his friend, and said he believed in him and would be by his side. Instead, he had been typical law enforcer Malik Washington. He passed a rough hand over his face and took a deep breath, wanting to do something he had almost forgotten how to do: just give up and cry.

  He clutched a folder with a few documents in it, and once in a while hit his leg with it.

  The woman had to repeat his name twice before he heard her.

  “Sir? Sir? They’ll see you now.”

  The stare he gave the woman made her look at him in horror as he walked toward the mayor’s office. She swallowed hard and blurted, “No, not there, sir, that one, they’re in the conference room.” She nodded at a door further away.

  He walked over and grabbed the door knob, looked down at his spit-polished boots, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath; he then opened the door quickly and stepped inside. He found himself in a surprisingly large room, and to his confusion, there were only women inside. That really took him aback. At first, he looked behind himself to check to see if he was in the right place; and when he looked back, some of the women frowned at him. He knew full well that both the Mayor and the Governor were women, but all their aides?

  About ten women sat going over notes, and when Malik entered, nearly all of them stood up and moved away to the side of the room. Some began talking and laughing while helping themselves to a breakfast buffet.

  The Mayor sat at the short end of the large conference table, away from all the commotion, reading some documents through glasses perched on the tip of her nose. Another, much older woman stood with her back turned next to her, her hands behind her back, looking outside into the darkness. He had previously only seen the Governor on television, and he knew the rumors about her obtaining her position only because she was a black woman. Malik didn’t give a shit what color her skin was; he harbored a visceral hate towards all politicians.

  The Mayor looked up from her papers, nodding to a chair next to her. He ignored it, so she did the same. The Governor said, “You have 24 hours, Undersheriff Washington, and then I’ll let the Feds take over. That’s the best I’m willing to do.”

  Malik was hesitant, something he hated, because now he was flabbergasted. “The three deputies who found Carlos da Silvia’s body and used their weapons against the perpetrators will be taken off duty…for now,” she ground out.

  “With pay?” Malik asked.

  “Of course.”

  “Good,” he said firmly.

  The Mayor, who believed strongly in decorum, looked up at him over her glasses and scowled at him, not just for his tone and smartass answer, but also for not using the Governor’s title. “Can the fair go on?” she snapped.

  Malik turned to the Mayor. “Yes, Madame Mayor, it can, and I believe it should. We can’t let disturbances by the criminal element alter our lifestyle, and we have sufficient help from neighboring counties and the National Guard. They have found and captured the lion and one of the tigers, and there are good leads on the second one. Besides, that one won’t be a danger to anyone for a few days.”

  “It won’t?”

  “No, Mayor,” he said grimly, “not with its belly full and all.”

  The Mayor just shook her head at Malik’s morbid comment. “And what about the other dangerous animals?”

  “Almost all the circus animals have been captured except for a couple of mountain lions, and according to the park rangers, they have returned to the wild and are no more dangerous than any other mountain lion in the region. I doubt that the rangers will be looking for them.”

  “Yeah, I got
that impression also last night. For now, Malik, you’re the Acting Sheriff.”

  The Governor, still with her back turned, motioned for him to join her. “Are there any leads regarding Sheriff da Silva’s death?”

  “Yes, Madame Governor, there are many, but just one solid lead. This.” He took a paper from his folder and laid it on the window railing. It was a copy of the drawing of the monster that Carlos’s wife had shown him. The Governor tilted her head and looked at it, then looked back outside. “Where did you get that?”

  “Carlos’s wife gave it to me a few days ago, asking me to help him. He had been acting weird…differently in the last few days.”

  The Governor continued to study the darkness outside, as the town started to wake up. “Not much to go on. Wouldn’t sit right with the people while having their breakfast in the morning, knowing that some monster is running loose killing people, now would it, Sheriff Washington?” She snorted and continued, “Then again, the damned media would love it, I’m sure.” She turned her head, staring at him with a neutral expression. “Your thoughts?”

  “A human being murdered my frie…” He stopped himself, not wanting to sound to emotionally attached to the case, and then continued, “A human being murdered the Sheriff, and I suspect that from time to time, this madman might dress up like an animal.”

  “But there were no indications that anyone actually saw something like that.” The Governor nodded at the drawing. Malik had nothing to say, because he didn’t want to get into any details. Normally, he wouldn’t have shown the drawing to her; but in 24 hours, everything would be turned over to the FBI. He had a million and one questions about that soaring through his mind, but decided not to get entangled in a long meeting. Now he was in a hurry.

  There was some commotion outside the door, and the Governor turned, facing Malik. “Twenty-four hours, and then the Feds will take over either we like it or not.”

  “Surprised they haven’t already.”

  The Governor smirked.

  “Oh, they tried. But, well, let’s say I have a different opinion on how some things should be run in my state. And then there’s the media circus.”

  “You got a call from the big boys in the White House, didn’t you?”

  The Governor smiled pleasantly at Malik. “I’ve never liked being told what to do, so I’m not going to tell you what to do. With one exception.” She turned back toward the window as the door was forced opened and three men wearing suits charged in. “You go and do some hunting now, Sheriff Washington,” she continued. “Go and find Carlos da Silva’s monster, while I take care of my own.”

  Malik left the room, ignoring the FBI agent shouting for him to stop. He was a changed man, because he no longer hated politicians…well, not the ones inside that conference room. So much for not being judgmental, he thought, as he hurried back to his new office.

  * * * * *

  CAL HARRINGTON drove like mad, honking his horn now and then. Once in a while, he pushed hard on the temporary bandage holding back the blood-flow, while steering with his legs. He cried and cursed out loud, screaming at oncoming traffic. He was grateful for the scarce traffic this morning, but whenever he did meet someone, he honked and shouted at them to move aside. Had he looked in the rearview mirror and not been so confused, he would have noticed the patrol car chasing him with lights flashing and sirens wailing.

  He finally reached the main street of Skull Creek and hit the accelerator. He had to, because he was getting weaker and weaker; his left side felt ice-cold, and he no could longer move his left arm. Another patrol car tried to intercept him, but failed. When he reached the Sheriff’s office, he almost ran over a large black man in the middle of the street. The big man threw himself to the side of the road just in time.

  Harrington stopped and stumbled out of the car. He had forgotten to put the car in Park, and it rolled into a stationary police SUV. He himself fell to the ground, bleeding profusely.

  Malik heard someone shout “Look out!” and looked up and saw the oncoming threat. He jumped to the side, sliding on the gravel, to avoiding getting hit. Bruised and lacerated, he then scrambled to his feet and drew his gun. What the hell NOW? He wondered. Had everyone in Skull Creek gone crazy?

  Then he heard the thin wail from the heap next to the mining truck that had barely missed him. “Help! Help us, we’re dying! It’s killing everyone! Help…”

  Malik holstered his gun and ran toward the injured man, who he could now see was bleeding like a stuck hog. From the Sheriff’s Department charged two deputies, and behind the truck came two highway patrol cars. A crowd was starting to gather as Malik kneeled next to the bleeding man. “Someone get the paramedics! Nine-One-One!” he shouted.

  He leaned over, trying to hold the panicked man on the ground. He kept screaming and crying and squirming, and Malik had to adjust his grip; and when he did, he dropped his folder. A sudden gust of wind flipped it open, and some of his documents flew out. “Hey, hey, c’mon now, relax and just tell me what’s going on,” he said to the injured man, who was cut up bad and looked like he might yet bleed to death.

  The man didn’t smell of alcohol, and Malik spoke to him calmly. There were running steps from the direction of the Mayor’s office, and Malik looked up and found himself surrounded by uniforms and civilians. The Mayor and the Governor pushed themselves through the small crowd. “Oh my God, Sheriff, you okay? I saw the whole thing from the window!” the Governor exclaimed.

  She was interrupted by Harrington, who shouted, “Dead, murdered, they’re all dead, help!”

  Everyone froze, staring at the injured man, then a deputy stepped forward to turn off the engine of the mining truck.

  “Please give them some room,” the Mayor ordered.

  “Someone get the paramedics,” the Governor shouted.

  Then Harrington said something that made everyone really stop. “Monsters…monsters…help me!”

  “Hey, man, c’mon, try and calm down and tell us who did this to you,” Malik said, doing his best to help sooth Harrington as a deputy ran up with a First Aid kit and started working on the man’s injured arm.

  Harrington sat up with Malik’s help, and it seemed like he was just about to say something when his eyes went wide and he suddenly screamed, pointing at Carlos’s drawing. Coughing up blood, with his last bit of strength he uttered two words: “The Monster.” He then passed out in Malik’s arms.

  Malik tilted his head up, first looking at the Governor and then at the Mayor. He eased the injured man to the asphalt as the Governor and Mayor looked back at him with equally frightened expressions. Malik could feel cold chills, followed by goosebumps, and looked down at the injured man.

  He let one of his officers begin CPR, but when he realized the size of the blood pool around the man and saw his unusual stillness, he knew it was useless; the man was dead.

  Someone shouted, “Look up there! The mountain is burning!”

  Thick, dark smoke intermingled with the first rays of the morning sun as the fire on the distant mountain fought for dominance. As everyone stared, Officer Whitney charged out of the police station, interrupting. “Malik! We got a hit! Carlos’s cell phone—we got the GPS! We think the killer has it!”

  A man in a dark suit stepped up next to Malik; both stared at the burning mountaintop. After a moment, the stranger said, “I’m not going to step on anyone’s toes, but for what’s it worth, you’re going to need my crew and me. Something terrible is happening in this town, and you need as many people fighting it as you can.”

  “Did you bring many shooters?”

  “Enough. I hope.”

  * * * * *

  THE SMALL police station was jam-packed with different flavors of law enforcement officers, all of them focused on Malik, who was giving them a short debrief. Many looked shocked, and there were many doubtful expressions when he related parts of Carlos’s story. He finished the meeting by unveiling a large poster, an image of the monster drawn over fifty years a
go from the five-year-old Carlos da Silva’s testimony. Anna-Maria had made him a copy when she contacted him. Now the rest of the police and feds looked at the strange image, which looked like some hellish mix between a bear and a wolf. The more they looked, the more some of them became concerned; but the majority gagged silently to themselves.

  “Like I said, I believe it’s a man, or more than one, and they dress up like this.”

  “Halloween is around the corner, so it makes sense,” the leader of the FBI special team joked.

  Malik, frustrated and tired, knew full well that he was losing this case. His voice harsh, he said loudly, “I hope you’re right, that eventually we can all laugh at this once it’s over. Then again, some of us can’t, because this thing murdered our sheriff—and my friend.”

  His words made the room fall into silence.

  Malik turned to FBI’s Special Agent In Charge. He didn’t even remember the SAIC’s name and couldn’t care less. “You wait for ground support before you charge that mine. Do we understand each other?”

  In a hostile tone, the FBI agent said, “You worry about your crew, and I’ll take care of my own.”

  When the room cleared out, someone standing behind him cleared her throat. “Yes, Ruth, what is it?”

  With the help of her cane, she walked slowly up to Malik. She stared, looking him over from head and toe.

  “Don’t you do anything stupid and end up like that good man Martin Luther King, you hear me now, Afro? I can’t lose two Sheriffs in a day, now can I?”

  Her voice failed her. She looked down at the floor, and when she raised her head, her eyes were red, and she did nothing to hold back the stream of tears coming from them.

  Malik suddenly had a change of heart when it came to this old woman; there was something motherly happening here. She closed her eyes and shook her head back and forth. She stopped suddenly, and then she gave Malik the deadliest and coldest stare he had ever seen. “Find that motherfucker and bring me his scalp.” She turned around and wobbled slowly away from him, and then continued, “Or you can make your own fucking coffee from now on.”