Crota

by Goingback, Owl

  Skip sat up in his bed, staring out the window, watching the traffic that came and went from the medical center’s parking lot. It was still early; visiting hours had just begun, so few cars were moving about. He watched a big Buick chug out into the street, vapor ghosts swirling from its exhaust pipe, and wished that he were leaving with it.

  Turning away from the window, he thought about switching on the television but didn’t. There wouldn’t be much on except talk shows and soap operas, and he wasn’t fond of either. He would have tried to read had there been anything worth reading. Someone, probably one of the hospital volunteers, had left a couple of dog-eared Reader’s Digests on his nightstand, but Skip couldn’t focus his eyes to read them.

  There was a knock at the door. He looked up as Katie and Lloyd entered the room. Katie wore a white knit pullover sweater and a pair of brown slacks. Lloyd was in uniform.

  “Good morning, hon,” she said, setting a brown paper sack on the floor by the foot of his bed.

  Skip glanced at the sack, trying to figure out the contents by its shape.

  Books? Mysteries? Westerns, perhaps? Aspirin?

  Katie leaned over and gave him a kiss. “How are you feeling today?”

  “Bored shitless with a headache,” he replied.

  “Well, that’s better than yesterday.” She placed her right palm against his forehead, checking his temperature.

  Skip removed Katie’s hand, holding it in his. “I’ve got a concussion, not the flu.”

  She smiled. “You can never be too careful in a place like this.”

  Lloyd pulled up one of the two plastic chairs in the room and sat down facing Skip.

  “When are you getting out of here?” he asked.

  Skip shrugged. “I don’t know. The doctor hasn’t been in yet today. In fact, I only saw him once yesterday and that was just for a few minutes. He said he wanted to keep me under observation, but I don’t see how he can do it if he’s never here. If he doesn’t show up soon, I’ll sign myself out.”

  “Oh no, you don’t,” Katie cut in. “A concussion is nothing to screw around with. You’re not leaving until the doctor says you can. Lloyd can handle things for another day. If he can’t, then call in the FBI, the CIA, whoever. But you’re staying put.”

  Lloyd raised his eyebrows in an expression of shocked surprise.

  Skip smiled. “See what I have to put up with? She’s a regular warden.”

  “And don’t you ever forget it,” she said sternly.

  Skip grew serious again. “Have you come up with anything yet?”

  “Not a damn thing,” Lloyd replied, moving his chair closer to the bed. “We’ve checked everywhere we can possibly think of looking. Nothing. That bear of yours is probably in Kentucky by now.”

  Yesterday, between one of his pain-pill-induced naps, Skip had found the strength to sit up long enough to tell Katie and Lloyd about the monster that had attacked him. They were the only ones he’d told. Katie believed him, but Lloyd, it was clear, did not.

  “It wasn’t a bear,” Skip said, feeling a flush of anger warm his face.

  “Oh Jesus, here we go again,” Lloyd sighed. “Look, we’ve been through this before. It was dark. Everything happened fast. Your eyes can play tricks on you--”

  “I know what I saw,” Skip said.

  “There were witnesses. They said it was a bear. Brown even got a couple of shots at it as it ran away.”

  Skip didn’t like being called a liar. “Damn it, Lloyd. Could a bear wipe out a herd of cows and a Hereford bull? What about the Jerworski kid? Could a bear have hung him in that tree? I don’t give a fuck what Brown says he saw. That asshole wouldn’t know a bear from a kangaroo in the first place.”

  Skip was interrupted by a sharp knock at the door. They all turned to see who it was.

  “I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” Mayor Sonny Johnson said as he entered the room. He was followed by a tall, thin reporter from the Logan Gazette. The reporter carried a 35mm camera and a spiral notebook.

  I knew I should have locked that damn door.

  Skip forced a smile. “No, Mayor, not at all. Come on in. We were just debating, that’s all.” He shot a look of warning to be quiet to Katie and Lloyd.

  Skip disliked Sonny Johnson intensely. He considered him a weasel. Without his glasses, he even looked like one: skinny, long neck, black hair greased flat against his head. The mayor had a way of coming across so nice it made Skip want to puke. Maybe it was the country boy accent he used, which was about as phony as his smile. How he ever got elected mayor of Logan was anybody’s guess.

  “Good, good.” Mayor Johnson smiled, stepping farther into the room. He favored Lloyd with a nod before turning his gaze on Katie, where Skip noticed his smile became more of a leer.

  Bastard’s mentally undressing her.

  “It’s so good to see you again, Mrs. Harding,” Mayor Johnson said. “You’re looking lovely as ever.”

  “Thank you, Mayor,” Katie replied, shifting uncomfortably under his gaze. “Good to see you again.”

  Skip cleared his throat. “Something I can do for you, Mayor?”

  Mayor Johnson let his gaze fall away from Katie. Softening his smile, he turned to Skip.

  “I was just on my way to Warrenton for a business meeting and thought I’d stop by to pay my respects and see how you were doing.” He squeezed past Katie, stepping up to Skip’s bed. “How are you feeling?”

  “I’ll live,” Skip answered with something of a frown. He noticed the reporter positioning himself at the foot of the bed. Skip watched as he removed the lens cap from the camera.

  “Glad to hear that.” The mayor moved even closer. “I can’t begin to tell you how much I appreciate the fine job you’ve been doing for this county...risking your life and all that. After you get out of here, and after that bear is rounded up--and I’m sure that will be very soon--I’m sure we’ll all rest easier.” He turned to Lloyd. “Right?”

  Lloyd coughed. “Yes, sir. I’ve got extra men working on it now. We expect to nail it before sundown.”

  The mayor nodded in thought. “Good, good.” He turned back to Skip. “Anyway, after this all blows over we’ll have a little celebration over at my place...pass out a few citations for a job well done. That sort of thing. It’ll be great for publicity. Speaking of which...” He turned and nodded at the reporter.

  “I bumped into Phillip here on my way over. He’s from the Gazette. He wants to take a few pictures of us together for tomorrow’s paper. I said you wouldn’t mind.”

  I do mind, you idiot, and you know it!

  “It’s okay, isn’t it?”

  No, it isn’t okay.

  “Sure. Why not?” Skip answered coldly.

  “See, Phillip? I told you the sheriff wouldn’t mind.” Mayor Johnson beamed. He leaned over and put his arm around Skip’s shoulders, striking a pose. Skip gritted his teeth to keep from flinching. The reporter raised his camera, focused and clicked off three quick shots. The camera’s flash left colored dots swimming in front of Skip’s eyes.

  “There, that ought to do it,” Johnson said, removing his arm from Skip’s shoulders. The embarrassing photo, Skip clad in striped pajamas, would probably end up on the front page of the paper.

  “Gentlemen, be sure and contact me the moment you find anything,” Johnson said, moving toward the door. He had reverted back to his official, I’m-in-charge voice. Obviously, with the photo session over, he was anxious to be on his way. “I would stay and chat, but I’ve got an important meeting to attend.”

  With those parting words, the mayor turned and exited the room. The reporter followed him.

  Katie sat down on the foot of Skip’s bed and burst out laughing. “He means he has a meeting with Janet Baker at the Oasis Motel.”

  “Shhh...he might hear you,” Skip cautioned.

  Lloyd sat back down on the yellow plastic chair. “It’s almost as if the bastard’s enjoying himself,” he said, shaking his head in disg
ust.

  “He’s enjoying the publicity, that’s for sure.” Skip shifted in bed. “He thinks he’s some kind of celebrity now that the cable news networks have picked up the story about the mutilations.”

  “Wait till Hard Copy does a story about it,” Katie commented.

  “Oh, God,” Skip said. “You mean it’s going to be on Hard Copy too?”

  “Nothing definite, just a rumor I heard.”

  “Great, that’s all we need--more publicity,” Lloyd grumbled. “This town is filling up with tourists as it is. I swear, the next person I catch on Cemetery Road with out-of-county plates, I’m gonna lock them up and throw away the key.”

  Skip grinned. “Now, now...temper, temper. I thought you liked being sheriff.”

  “You know better than that,” Lloyd said. “There’s too much politics and paperwork involved. Damn phone never stops ringing. No, I’ve had a taste of what it’s like at the top, and I don’t like it. The sooner you get your heinie back to work, the happier I’ll be.”

  “Oh, I almost forgot,” Katie cut in. “I stopped by the library on the way home yesterday and picked these up for you.” She picked up the paper sack she had brought and handed it to Skip. Opening it, he removed several library books.

  “Books?” Lloyd questioned. He stretched his neck to read the titles as Skip removed them from the sack. Though the titles and authors varied, each book dealt with the subject of monsters and unexplained happenings in North America.

  “Here we go again,” Lloyd said.

  Katie wheeled on him, her eyes bright with anger. “Damn it, Lloyd, what makes you so sure you’re right? You weren’t even there.”

  “I don’t have to be there to know there are no such things as monsters, UFOs or abominable snowmen.”

  “And there aren’t any bears in this part of the country big enough to kill a full-grown bull and half a dozen cows.”

  “Agreed,” Lloyd replied.

  “Okay, then you explain it,” she challenged.

  “I can’t.”

  “Then why, for God’s sake, are you so quick to put Skip down?”

  “Put him down? I’m trying to protect him.”

  “Protect him?” She was puzzled.

  “Do you have any idea what will happen if talk of a monster gets around? Not only will you have every looney-toon in the state showing up here, but there’s a good chance of starting one hell of a panic. And what happens when election time rolls around next year? Do you seriously think anyone will vote for a man who claims to have seen a monster?”

  “Not claims. Has seen,” said Skip.

  “Maybe,” Lloyd clipped. “You want to end up in a rubber room, then you just start shouting monster and see what happens.”

  “What do you suggest I do?” Skip asked. “Keep my mouth shut until someone else gets killed?'”

  “If you shout monster, someone else will get killed. Every idiot this side of St. Louis will be out there looking for it.” Lloyd got up and crossed the room to the windows, staring out at the parking lot and street beyond. “Monster, bear, whatever--we need to keep a lid on this thing.” He turned back around. “Let us do our job. With the additional men we have helping from the state police, there’s no way it’s going to slip past us. Hobbs is not that big a county. If it’s still out there, we’ll get it. And if it does turn out to be some kind of monster, then you’ll be a celebrity. If it doesn’t, then you’ll still have your reputation.”

  He glanced at his watch. “Listen, I’d love to stay and chat some more, but I’ve got to get back. I’ll keep you posted on everything that’s going on.”

  Lloyd said his goodbyes and headed out the door. Skip grimaced and laid back down. It still hurt to sit up for very long at a time, but he wasn’t about to let Lloyd see his discomfort.

  “He can be such a pain in the ass,” Katie said.

  “Yeah, he can. But he’s still the best man I’ve got on the force. I guess I can overlook his other faults.”

  “But he doesn’t believe you.”

  “Do you blame him? It’s not something that’s easy to believe. If one of my men had come to me with the same story, I’d have sent them to see a psychiatrist.”

  Skip picked up one of the books and began thumbing through it. “Weren’t there a few Bigfoot sightings in Missouri about ten years ago?”

  Katie picked up one of the other books, flipping through the pages. “Here it is: Momo, the Missouri monster. Says the sightings took place on the outskirts of Louisiana, Missouri, back in July of 1972. Witnesses describe the creature as being about seven feet tall and completely covered with hair. Another person describes it as looking like a cross between a man and a gorilla.”

  “What color was it?”

  “Black.”

  “Nothing about glowing eyes?”

  “No, but it says monsters were also sighted in Fayetteville, Arkansas, and Peoria, Illinois, during August of 1972.”

  "Busy summer,” Skip commented. “What else you got?”

  “How about a story about the Ghost of Paris, Missouri?”

  He laughed.

  Katie turned the page and read a few lines. “Here’s one dated 1947 from Piney Ridge, Missouri. It’s about a creature killing sheep and goats.”

  Skip sat up, interested. “What else does it say?”

  Katie scanned the page. “Not much, I’m afraid. It says that when hunters went after it, it killed their dogs.”

  “No description?”

  “No.”

  “Damn.”

  “There’s a couple more monster sightings listed from Union and Mountain View, Missouri, but they’re just Bigfoot reports. Wait...here’s another, but it’s from Massachusetts.”

  “Read it anyway.”

  “...In the summer of 1972, cattle and sheep around the town of Rehoboth were being mysteriously killed.” She skipped to the next page. “Oh...never mind--they’re talking about a mysterious panther.”

  “Scratch that. What attacked me is definitely not a panther. It’s not a bear either. Hell, it’s not like anything I’ve ever seen before.”

  “Could it be a mutation? You know, like in those science-fiction movies?”

  “Like that thing in Prophecy.”

  “That’s the one.”

  Skip shook his head. “I don’t think so. Don’t ask me why, but I think what I saw was an original, not a mutation.”

  “But where did it come from?” she asked.

  “I don’t know, but I’m damn sure going to send it back.”

  Katie closed the book. “That’s enough monster stories for now. You’d better get some rest.”

  “But I’m not sleepy!” he argued.

  “Momma knows best,” she said. “I’ll leave these on the table. You can glance through them later.” She leaned over and gave him a kiss, mussing his hair slightly.

  Lying back, he started to drift off as soon as he closed his eyes. The last thing he heard was the sound of the door gently closing as Katie stepped into the hallway.

  The woods behind his grandmother’s house were dark and mysterious. For a boy of six who had wandered off after supper and gotten himself lost they were downright terrifying. Skip would have cried had he not heard his grandmother calling for him. Her voice, though scolding, was like a foghorn to a storm-tossed ship, a beacon of hope to steer by.

  Following the sound of her voice, he soon saw a flickering light moving between the trees in the distance. It was the light of a lantern, the one his grandmother always carried when she went out before dawn to milk the cows. But as he drew nearer to the light, it began to move away from him.

  Skip cried out to his grandmother, begging her to wait for him, but the light drew farther away. He had to run to keep up. Sweat ran down his face and into his eyes; a stitch formed in his side.

  He reached the clearing beside his grandmother’s house in time to see her climb the steps to the front porch. She paused in the doorway, looking back at him, waiting for him to foll
ow. It was funny, but the light from the lantern made her look ghostly, like she wasn’t all there. He could have sworn that he could see through her.

  His grandmother turned and entered the house. He called her name and raced after her. He reached the front door in time to see the glow from the lantern near the end of the hall. He followed.

  The folding ladder to the attic had been pulled down. He watched as his grandmother climbed the rungs. The light went with her, leaving him in the dark. Skip wasn’t allowed to play in the attic, but he didn’t want to be left alone in the dark either.

  “Grandma?” He touched the ladder, placed a foot lightly upon the bottom rung. “Grandma, is it okay if I come up?” There was no reply. The darkness closed in around him. He swallowed hard and started up.

  Peeking through the opening, he saw his grandmother leaning over a large wooden chest. Reaching into the chest, she removed something wrapped in what appeared to be fox fur. She turned toward him, holding the bundle out to him. But as he reached out for it, the bundle disappeared. His grandmother vanished with it.

  Skip awoke with a start, his heart beating madly in his chest. He was still in the hospital, not in the dusty attic of his grandmother’s house--the house he now lived in with his family.

  Jesus, what a dream.

  Although a faded picture of her sat on the mantel, he hadn’t really thought of his grandmother in years, let alone dreamed about her. What a dream. Strange. He had never gotten lost in the woods behind her house. And to his knowledge, she had never owned such a chest. So what did it mean?

  It’s just a dream, you dummy. It doesn’t mean a thing. Just a side effect from all the junk they’ve been giving you. You’ll probably be seeing pink elephants next.

  At least that would be better than seeing monsters.

  Wiping the sweat from his forehead, he rolled over and went back to sleep.

  Chapter 12

  Lloyd wet his comb under the faucet, shook it and ran it through his hair. He smiled at himself in the mirror. No...too happy. The serious look was better. He frowned. Perfect. That’s the way he wanted to look on his election posters. Maybe he should put on a few pounds, touch up the gray a little.