Tamer Animals

by Justin M. Woodward

  “Please,” he cried. “Please don't let him do this.”

  “Come on,” Jeb said. “Eye for an eye, what do you say? In this case, I guess you could say eyes, right? Goddamn, boy. That wasn't your brother, was it?”

  Jeb laughed and kept coming down the hallway. Sam was certain he was about to die a pretty gruesome death.

  Then he heard the gunshot.

  From the front page of the Early County Daily:

  AN EXERCISE IN TERROR

  Early County has been rocked to its core in a recent grisly discovery. Eight reported dead so far, and countless more bodies have been discovered packed into freezers and various other locations. The lead officer who worked the crime scene described it as the “worst possible scenario you could ask for in this line of work.” The officer, who wishes to remain nameless, said that the eight dead were the least disturbing thing about the case. Among the victims discovered was the body of Deputy Ben Dumear.

  Story continues on page 2A.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  What else is there to say? When it comes down to it, I don't know what talking about it will do. Kay says she thinks I ought to do the talk show, though. She says it would be good for me to get it all out there. I guess I will do it. I just don't feel good about it is all.

  They want to know all the details. They want to squeeze every last drop of information out of me. I've avoided interviews this long. God knows I wish I could avoid them until the end of time, but money talks. The bills are piled up, I've got three kids' college tuitions to pay for, and I figure, Hell, some words on TV, and our problems get a lot less problematic. I practically have to do it.

  Jeb's body fell to the floor in a lifeless heap. Sam slumped into the corner in the dark hallway and held his face in his hands. Stanton held his gun at the ready, waiting for another backwoods piece of shit to try him. He made the mistake of looking down at his ankle and saw that his foot was barely attached anymore. He tried not to think about it.

  “Hey,” he said to Sam. “Are you okay?”

  “No.”

  “I mean, are you hurt?”

  “No.” But Sam would never be the same.

  Elmer and John walked through the front door and saw Patrick's body slumped against the hallway doorframe.

  “Holy shit,” John said. He turned his head and vomited violently.

  Stanton called out, “Hey kid, is that you?”

  “Yeah,” Elmer said. “It's me. He's dead, Sheriff. The Goatman. He's dead.”

  Stanton turned to Sam, “Who else is here?” he asked.

  “There's the little girl in here,” Sam said pointing to the door next to him. And there's the old lady, 'Ma'. That’s all who’s alive anymore, I think.”

  “You boys need to get out of here. That crazy bitch could be standing in the next room with a shotgun.”

  “I’m not leaving you,” Elmer said. “We’re not leaving you,” he added, glancing toward John and Sam.

  “He’s right,” John said. “We need to find her. We need to make sure.”

  Stanton considered it for only a moment. “Here,” he said, handing Elmer his pistol. “Be careful.”

  “Stay here with him,” John said to Sam. “We’ll check out the rest of the house.”

  John picked up a knife and followed Elmer down the hall. The room at the end, the one Sam had seen Luna exit and enter, was locked. Turning, they crossed the dining room, only to be startled when they heard the scratch of a needle on a record player. An old tune from the 1950s bellowed from the open door beyond the dinner table.

  Elmer’s hand shook as he reached for the slightly-open door. He pushed the knob and it slowly swung open.

  In the bed sat Ma in a relaxed position. She was wearing what appeared to be an ancient wedding gown, stained in blood.

  The needle scratched on the warped record, as the old singer’s words became slower and slower.

  I’m wild again.

  Beguiled again.

  A simpering, whimpering child again.

  Bewitched, bothered and bewildered am I.

  The woman looked over at the two boys in the doorway and raised a rusty pistol from beneath the folds of her bloody dress.

  “I was hoping to have peace for this,” she said. “And don’t try to understand what happened here. No one will ever know the truth.”

  And then she put the barrel of the gun in her mouth and pulled the trigger.

  Stanton called everyone he knew to call. He needed an ambulance immediately. Sam still hadn't told anyone what he had seen in the room with the girls. He couldn't bring himself to talk about it. Elmer and John waited in the house with them until more police showed up.

  When the red and blue lights came through the front door, the group collectively sighed in relief. Stanton filled the officers in on everything he knew, and the premises were searched thoroughly

  Luna's bedroom window was open, the girl gone.

  Stanton was lifted onto a stretcher. As they carted him into the ambulance, a young deputy approached him. His name tag identified him as Wilson.

  “Sheriff,” Deputy Wilson said. “Sheriff, I have to ask you something.”

  The EMT stepped aside, annoyed.

  He continued, “Didn't you say that goat guy was supposed to be around here somewhere?”

  “Yeah, he had an axe planted in his head.”

  “That's what I thought you said, sir. Um… Sir, he's nowhere on the property.”

  Stanton's eyes widened. He didn't speak. The young deputy said, “I just wanted to make sure I heard you right, sir.” And he walked away.

  Stanton lay in a hospital bed in Dothan, Alabama with his leg wrapped and elevated. The TV was playing an old slasher movie. His face was sore from the broken nose he had suffered when hit in the face by the shovel, but nothing in his life had ever hurt as much as his foot did right then.

  He was still in a daze, though. He could remember being wheeled back into the operating room, and the nurse telling him to count backwards from ten. He remembered the old doctor coming into his room and telling him he would never walk on his foot again. The doctor had informed him that it had been all but completely severed by the shovel, and you could say that he had taken the news well in the sense that he hadn’t said anything at all. He figured the doctor must have been relieved that he hadn’t broken down like most people did when they received terrible news. He figured he’d give the guy a break. Besides, he had always been the “suffer in silence” type.

  A young male nurse entered the room. “Well, hey there!” he said. “Nice to see you alert this morning”.

  Glancing at the TV, he made a sour face. Jason was ripping some poor teenager open with a machete. The nurse picked up the remote and changed the channel.

  Stanton thought of saying that it had just been getting good, but he didn’t have the energy for humor anymore.

  Another nurse entered the room. “Sheriff Stanton,” she said. “There’s quite the crowd out in the waiting room to see you. Are you feeling up to having visitors?”

  “Sure,” he said, though he couldn’t imagine who would be waiting to see him. He had no family, no wife, and no real friends now that Benny was dead.

  “Okay, I’ll have them come in one at a time,” the nurse said. “We don’t want to overdo it.”

  Both nurses left the room and he was alone for a moment. Looking out the window, he could see that summer was in full swing. In the south, you can almost literally see how blisteringly hot it is outside during the summer.

  On the TV, Charlotte the spider was trying to warn Wilbur the pig what the farmer actually does with pigs. “It’s just how things are,” she said.

  A woman knocked on the door, and Stanton immediately knew two things about her: first was that she had a battered quality to her, a strong woman but another “suffer in silence” type. The second thing he noticed was that she was immensely beautiful. “Sheriff Stanton,” she said. “I know you don’t know me, but I owe a lot to you
.” In her hand was a bouquet of flowers tied together with a ribbon. She was wearing a black dress.

  “Is that right?” he said, sitting up a little straighter. He winced when his leg moved.

  She glanced at his bandaged leg. “Is it bad?” she said.

  “It is.”

  “I'm so sorry to hear that,” she said. “Well, let me tell you why I'm here. You saved my boy out in those terrible woods. John may never forget what he went through, but I will never forget what you did for him.”

  “Thank you for that. But it wasn't just me who had a hand in saving him. There was another boy who helped lead me to those kids.”

  “Yes. He's in the waiting room now. He can't wait to talk to you. He's been up here almost non-stop since you came out of surgery. He seems like a great young man. I'm curious though, how exactly did he know the boys would find trouble? John says that he tried to warn them.”

  “Ma'am, I wish I knew. But he was right about everything. He's a hero,” he said, remembering the bunk beds.

  “Well,” the woman said. “I've got a funeral to get to now, but I just had to stop by here and tell you how much I appreciate you.” She reached out to shake his hand.

  “Funeral?”

  “Yeah,” she said. “My husband. His name was Ronnie.”

  He lowered his eyes. “I'm sorry to hear that.”

  “You know what's so crazy? It seems like such a cliché to say 'don't be,' but that's honestly all I can say. Ronnie was a very bad man, Mr. Stanton. That's all there is to it.”

  “I understand,” he said. The woman turned to leave the room, and he called after her, “What's your name?”

  The woman turned and smiled. “I'm Kay,” she said. She set the flowers among the other flowers and cards and left the room.

  Kay and I were married two years later, and we still are to this day. She really is an amazing woman. She puts up with all my bullshit, and that’s saying a lot. She is great at helping me get around, too. Yep, I’m still crippled. I’d be lost without her.

  John went through a lot of counseling over the incident, and he turned out okay. He's a banker in Atlanta now. We named Kay and Ronnie's child after Kay's father, Stan, and we had a child of our own three years after that. We named him Benny.

  Sam Hall, that poor kid. He went through it all and came out a hell of a lot stronger for it. He’s in his twenties now, has a wife and a kid of his own. Sam’s father, Gary, drank himself to death about five years after Patrick died.

  There is someone who's been on my mind for a long time now, and I can't find him. If there's one thing I learned in all my years in law enforcement, it's how to find someone. I worry about him a lot. We spoke on and off for years, but after some time, we just lost touch. I hope he's okay. He really was a fine young man.

  Within a few moments of Kay leaving Stanton's hospital room, there was another knock at the door.

  “Come in,” he said.

  In walked Elmer with a sheepish grin on his face.

  “What the hell are you smiling at?” Stanton said with a smile of his own.

  Elmer glanced down at the chair by the door. He looked at Stanton. “You're in my room,” he said.

  “No, my chart is on the door. They let me see it. I get gold stars if I eat all of my applesauce.”

  Elmer laughed. He asked, “How are you feeling?”

  “Terrible.”

  “Yeah, I figured you would tell me that.”

  “I'm only truthful with folks I trust. Consider yourself lucky.”

  “Hey, I'm sorry for what happened to you. I feel responsible for everything that happened.”

  “You're no more responsible for what happened than Elvis is responsible for 9/11. You helped save lives.”

  “We did,” Elmer corrected him.

  “Yeah, we did. And we also made sure nothing can happen to anyone else in that house ever again.”

  Elmer stared at the floor.

  “Hey,” Stanton continued. “I reckon I ought to stop callin' you 'boy,' and I sure as hell ain't callin' you Elmer, so, do you have a nickname?”

  Elmer laughed. Leave it to Stanton to say what he really thought. “No,” he said. “I've never had a nickname. And Elmer was my great-grandfather.”

  “Great Grandfather, terrible name.” He thought for a moment and recalled Elmer's little brother, James, and how Elmer had saved him. “How about Bunk?” he said. “You look like a Bunk.”

  Stanton was surprised at how excited he was to return to work. Even with the constant stream of visitors, three months out of work had been far too long. The absence of Benny was jarring, though. There was a framed picture of him on one wall of the room with an American flag hanging above it. He smiled and went over to the wall. He saluted the picture of his friend, feeling silly. But it just felt right to pay him respects. He was a military man after all.

  There was a new Deputy starting that day, and he wanted to go check something before he arrived.

  After pouring some coffee for the road, he limped to his car, still trying to get used to the crutches. He started the car and drove to the Coheelee Creek Campgrounds. The reports had said that the Goatman had never been found, and no one had seen the young girl, Luna, either, but he had one place he wanted to check that wasn’t in the report.

  Arriving several minutes later, he got out of his car, grabbed his crutches from the backseat, and began limping towards the woods.

  EPILOGUE

  The perky young host for Good Morning America sat forward and chewed on one of the arms of her glasses dramatically. “And what did you find in those woods?” she said. The audience waited with bated breath.

  “You know what I found,” Stanton said. “That's why I'm here, isn't it?”

  Cheeks flushing, the girl said, “Oh come on now Sheriff, not everyone knows the full story of the Coheelee Cannibals. Tell the audience what you found.”

  He wished that he hadn't taken that third swig of whiskey backstage. He turned to the camera. “In the woods, I found the noose hanging from the tree again.”

  The audience gasped and he could see more than half the crowd were using their phones to record him. Hanging on to every word, thirsty for a good story.

  “Hanging from the noose,” he continued, “was the body of the girl named Luna. To this day, we don't have a last name for her.”

  “Because she was born right there in that house,” the girl said, excitedly. “There was no record of her. Isn’t that right?”

  “That's right,” he responded. Already, he was regretting his decision to come on the show.

  He could see Kay, John, Benny, and Stanley standing offstage. Kay gave him a thumbs-up. He continued, “The girl was completely naked, except for a suit made of goat fur, horns, and hooves. The goat-suit was presumably the same one the Goatman wore. It was draped over her body.”

  Gasps.

  The interviewer paused for effect. She continued, “Many people believe that the young girl was acting as this 'Goat Man' the whole time. What is your opinion on that, Mr. Stanton?”

  “It's horseshit.”

  The interviewer flinched. She glanced at her producer who was making the signal for commercial break.

  “When we return,” she said, “We will continue this horrific story.” The cameraman gave an 'OK' symbol.

  “What are you doing?” the girl said to him. “You can't use language like that on live television.”

  “I'm sorry, sweetie. I was under the impression that you wanted to hear the uncensored story.”

  “Well, the gritty, gory details are fine, as we said before the show. Just keep the language out of it.”

  The cameraman put his headphones back on and gave the interviewer another signal.

  “And we're back. Now, Mr. Stanton, please tell us about what was discovered in the house.”

  He paused for a moment and looked into the camera. If they wanted gritty and gory, they would get it. And they would never invite him back to be on Good Morni
ng America—or any other show—that was for sure.

  “The house was a farm for humans,” he said. “There were a dozen females of ages ranging from thirty down to thirteen. Each of them completely feral, mentally retarded, and inbred. There were machines attached to them constantly which milked their breasts. The milk was sold to a local market for years. The men of the house, the ones they called 'Pa' and Jeb took turns raping the girls repeatedly, keeping them pregnant. The women who endured this torturous life have all since died… Many died while still being milked and raped.”

  The interviewer tried to interrupt. “Mr. Stanton—”

  “When it came time for the babies to be born,” he continued on, ignoring her, “if they were girls, they were raised strictly for the milking. Nobody ever talked in front of them to keep them as animalistic as possible.”

  “And what about the male children?” the reporter asked.

  He sat back in his chair. “All killed,” he said. “The official story is that they were buried behind the house, but some believe that they were sacrificed to an entity of some sort. But, ultimately, they were of no use to the 'farmers'… so they were killed. We found more than…” He took a deep breath. “We found more than thirty infant skeletons.”

  All eyes in the crowd were on their cellphone screens, capturing this piece of history.

  “And the freezers?”

  “There was another room. Like a butcher's cutting room. This is where the… meat was stored. We found body parts in bags and jars. We found packages labeled with names like 'ribs' and 'backstraps'.”