The Winter Creek Beast Read online

  “Knock it off, Jock. You’re not scaring me.” She waited for a few more minutes, expecting him to say or do something to try to prove her wrong. When he didn’t, she couldn’t help becoming worried about him. That was when she smelled something burning.

  After a couple of sniffs, she covered her nose. “Oh, gross.” The smell was a mix of burning cloth and meat, causing her heart to skip a beat. Images of Jock having fallen into the fire flashed through her mind. But if he had, why wasn’t he screaming?

  Somehow knowing he needed help, she pulled one of his shirts on and crawled towards the front of the tent. When she stuck her head out of the opened flap a scream she never thought herself capable of making erupted from her at the sight of Jock laying half in the fire with a wide gash across his front from hip to shoulder. For a moment she thought she could see his blood bubbling before she pushed herself back into the tent.

  After seeing the size of the wound, her mind screamed bear attack and she pulled her legs up to her chest as tears flowed down her cheeks. As fear surged through her, she fought to remain in control as much as she could and focused on what she knew about bears. There was an old saying about what trees to climb to get away from certain ones but she couldn’t remember more than that. The only weapon they had was her pocket knife. They didn’t even bring their cell phones, choosing to leave them in the car instead.

  With each passing second, her fear began to fade as she was sure the bear was chased off when Jock fell into the fire. That was the only reason she didn’t hear anything. Janet knew the tent was a poor defense against whatever it was that killed Jock and that knowledge helped her to decide on trying to reach the car.

  After taking a few deep breaths to try to calm down, she pulled on her pants and shoes before making sure the keys were in her pocket. There wasn’t anything she could do for Jock except to get away. With a trembling hand, she pushed the tent flap aside and looked out. Nothing around her was making a sound except for the fire. Even the crickets had stopped their chirping.

  With a shaky breath, she pulled herself out of the tent and started to make her way towards the car. The last thing she wanted to do was panic and run. If the bear was still nearby running would entice it to chase after her and she’d be dead.

  Each step moved her closer to the edge of the clearing. When she reached the brush a menacing growl behind her made her freeze. Her mind screamed at her to run, but out of some morbid curiosity she couldn’t explain, she slowly turned her head to see what had made the sound. Her eyes settled on the large beast standing behind her tent. It had to be seven feet tall and looked as solid as a fur-covered brick building. Saliva dripped from its mouth as its tongue lapped back and forth.

  It’d been waiting for her, like this was some sort of game! The realization dawned on her as it continued to stare at her, daring her to move.

  All she could do was slide her right hand into her pocket. It was the side facing away from the beast so it wouldn’t see what she was doing. She pulled the folded pocket knife out and with practiced skill, pushed the blade open. The click of the blade locking into position brought a roar from the beast, but it sounded more like a laugh to her.

  Janet knew she was doomed, but if it caught her maybe she’d be able to give it a wound that’d make it back off. Deciding she had no other choice, she sprinted into the woods toward the road and the car. She heard the beast behind her as it crashed through the brush and closed the distance between them. She wouldn’t make it more than a handful of steps before it caught her. Out of instinct, she lunged to the left as the beast leaped past her. She was still alive, but now it was between her and the car.

  Before she could take another breath, the beast struck her with a force she never imagined possible. As she fell, she wondered if that was what being hit by a shark was like. It was her final thought before sharp teeth tore into her neck.

  Chapter 3

  Aside from an emergency call from the Lancaster’s teenage daughter about needing someone to kill a large spider, the following days passed without much fanfare for the Sheriff’s Office in Winter Creek. It was the way of things in the small, sleepy town and the people living there enjoyed it.

  For all intents and purposes, the Mitch Rhodes case was classified as an accident and the mayor even did a brief press conference over the tragedy of Rhodes’ passing. It meant the town played host to six, count them six, reporters from the surrounding area. Not quite the stir the mayor expected, but then Jay always thought he had delusions of grandeur.

  Of all the people in the town, the Sheriff was the only one that couldn’t find any peace. Since finding Rhodes’ body something continued to nag at him like an annoying itch. The problem was, he couldn’t find the answer because he didn’t know the question to ask. The more he tried to corner what caused him to feel uneasy, the more distant the reason became. It got to the point where he took an afternoon off to visit his grandfather. It wasn’t something he did often, but he needed someone to talk to that would understand him.

  Jacob Bearfoot was the oldest living member of Jay’s tribe. At a hundred and fifteen, Jay believed him to be the oldest living person in the world. Whenever he went to visit, Jay had to fight against the urge to run away and feel like a child next to the man. It was for that reason he remained sitting in his Jeep staring at the small cabin his grandfather lived in for several long minutes.

  He wanted to go inside. Hell, he needed to see his grandfather. But the fear he’d felt since his parents were killed in a drunk driving accident when he was twelve wouldn’t allow him to move. From the moment he first stepped into his grandfather’s presence following their deaths, he’d been wrapped in a fear he couldn’t explain. Jacob had taken him in and raised him as if he was his own. It was their tribal custom, but few followed the Old Ways anymore.

  Jay felt a pang of regret at having forsaken the Old Ways himself, but a man had to live and put food on the table. The time where one could go out and hunt without fear of being accosted was gone in most places. Besides, relying on the land or anyone but himself wasn’t something he’d ever been good at doing. Sure, Jay had gotten better as the years passed, but given he was in his late forties he didn’t foresee the habit being kicked to the curb anytime in the future. His was a life of bringing order to a chaotic world and protecting those weaker than himself. It was a noble belief, or so he thought before he told his grandfather his decision to become a policeman. The look on the old man’s face was one he’d never forget for as long as he lived.

  Jay pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his breast pocket and started to pull one out when his radio crackled with Edith Baxter’s voice.

  “Are you gonna sit there all day, Sheriff? Go on, best to get it over with.”

  Despite himself, Jay burst into laughter and put the cigarettes back in his pocket before picking up the handset and clicking it on. “One of these days you need to tell me how you do that.”

  “It ain’t nothing, darling. I just know you, is all.”

  Smiling and shaking his head, he responded, “Roger, out.”

  Once the handset was back in its cradle, he slid out of the Jeep and walked towards the cabin’s door. “Alright, it ain’t nothing you can’t handle. Just walk in and talk with the man.” His voice was low enough that he could barely hear himself talk. Shaking his head, he made a mental note to stop talking to himself. At least in front of his grandfather.

  Jay paused at the door with his hand raised to knock. It was his last chance to leave, but if he did so would he find the understanding or peace he sought? Muttering a curse, his knuckles struck the door three times. A click told him the door was about to be opened so he took a step back just as it swung in and an ancient, wrinkled face appeared.

  The years had been relatively kind to Jacob Bearfoot. Despite his age, he had little trouble moving about as his joints and bones refused to deteriorate as they were supposed to. It was due to that that he stopped going to a doctor. Being poked and prodded as some
one tried to explain his health had grown tiresome to him. He wanted to celebrate being alive and healthy, why couldn’t they understand that? He only had one ailment, and that wasn’t more than a small hindrance to him.

  Jacob’s glassy, milky eyes settled on Jay as though they could see him. “About time you came by.”

  Jay shifted his weight from one foot to another. He hated being under the scrutiny of those eyes. They made him feel awkward, as if they gave his grandfather an insight into his soul. “Been busy.”

  Jacob harrumphed and turned, leading the way into his home without a single word. Jay paused a moment before following. With each step he chastised himself for coming and acting like the young boy he felt like when he was around the man.

  After closing the door behind him, he had to take a few seconds to allow his eyes to adjust to the dim interior. “Want me to turn on a light?”

  Jacob didn’t slow as he reached his chair, an old plush recliner he’d had for twenty years. “Do you want to turn on a light?”

  Jay felt as though he were being tested, so he shook his head. “Just saying, it might be easier on company.”

  Jacob waved his hand at nothing in particular. “Only the truly blind need light to see by.”

  Wonderful. Jay knew it was pointless to argue, so he let out a breath and sat in the chair across from his grandfather.

  The pair remained sitting in silence for several minutes before Jacob spoke. “Something you don’t understand worries you.”

  Jay didn’t move a muscle as he stared at his grandfather. The man stated the obvious, but there was something about his voice that cut through Jay’s cynicism and doubt. Moistening his lips, he explained finding Mitch Rhodes’ body and that something about it didn’t sit well with him.

  Jacob remained quiet as he listened, just like he always had when his grandson had something to say. As the words wound their way into his mind, he reached out with his senses into the spirit world. When his guide brought him the answer he sought, the old man’s breath caught in his chest.

  The sudden change in Jacob’s demeanor surprised Jay and he leapt from his chair to offer some kind of aide. As soon as he touched his grandfather’s shoulder, he saw an image of a large beast. It snarled and growled at him as it stood upright and reached seven feet in height. It was something he’d never seen before and the power of the image caused his knees to buckle. Swaying, he dropped to a knee before he fell.

  Jacob was the first to recover following his initial shock and the sharing of the beast with his grandson. Out of their entire tribe, he was the only one that understood what it meant. Resting a comforting hand on Jay’s back, he waited for his grandson to compose himself. “You saw a cursed skin-walker. A creature with great strength and desire to kill as punishment.”

  Jay looked at his grandfather with a shocked expression. It’d been years since he heard that term used outside of a Hollywood movie. He started to shake his head despite a voice inside of him telling him it was true. “They’re only a legend, something used to scare children.”

  “No, he is your killer. You will accept this when you need to. I cannot hasten your heart anymore than I can change your mind.”

  Jay remained motionless for a long time as his mind worked over the myriad of ideas and thoughts his grandfather’s words had stirred. Had he not spent most of his life feeling intimidated in the man’s presence, he may have learned something. For that, he was sorry. It didn’t mean his grandfather was right, did it? Old superstitions didn’t belong in the twenty-first century anymore than… he stopped himself from finishing his thought. What if his grandfather was right? “What can I do?”

  Jacob waited patiently for his grandson to clear his mind. At hearing the tone in his question, he knew Jay was ready. “I am the last protector of the Old Ways. The last of the shaman.”

  Jay’s shoulders slumped under the weight of failing to continue his tribe’s duty. He felt ashamed for his life and for calling himself a Native American.

  “The fault is not yours. We must all follow the path the Great Spirit lays before us.” Jacob paused as his eyes seemed to refocus on his grandson through his cataracts. “Winter Creek is your tribe now, and you will have the strength to do what you must when the time is right. Take this.” He held his hand out clenched in a fist.

  Jay hesitated a second before reaching out. When their hands met, Jacob opened his hand and let a small knot of dark brown hair fall into Jay’s hand.

  “With this, you will do what you must.” Without another word, Jacob sat back in his chair and closed his eyes.

  Knowing it was time to leave, Jay let out a relieved breath before heading for the door. Once outside, he looked at what his grandfather had placed in his palm. His eyebrows rose at seeing the hair. After rubbing it between his fingers, he thought it felt like human hair but it was way too coarse.

  Shaking his head, he put the band of hair into his pocket and headed for his jeep. He had hoped to learn something from his visit he could use. Instead he feared his grandfather’s mind was lost. If that was so, why did he feel as if his question was answered?

  He reached his Jeep in time to hear Edith trying to reach him. Melvin needed him out on Old Mill Road immediately. With his uncomfortable experience forgotten, Jay climbed into his vehicle and pulled out while switching on the flashing red strobe on his dashboard. After twenty minutes, fear tightened its hold on his stomach when he spotted the flashing lights of his deputy’s car.

  Chapter 4

  The beast knelt next to a small creek and dipped its hand into the cool running water. In seconds, the current filled its palm and it lifted its cupped hand towards its mouth. Of all the things it was capable of, such an action came as naturally as it had during the beast’s previous life.

  After all the years since its new life began, the beast only wished to remember what it had been like to be human. For too long, it had been forced to live as a mockery of what, and whom, it had been. Aside from a few things such as drinking, it couldn’t remember more than the image of the witch casting her spell on him. That memory had become a blur under the urge to kill and destroy anything different than itself. Even the reason for the uncontrollable rage was forgotten.

  The beast finished its drink and was about to have another when a sound off to the side caught its attention. A doe and her fawn stepped out from the foliage to drink. Watching the pair, the beast rose and leapt for them with a snarling roar.

  The beast’s rage echoed through the woods for a few miles, but by the time it reached where Sheriff Lightfeather stood, it was little more than a faint echo. It was still enough to catch the Sheriff’s ear.

  “You hear that?” He turned his attention away from the gruesome scene they were investigating and toward where he thought the sound originated.

  “Hear what, Boss?” Melvin lowered the handkerchief covering his mouth and nose long enough to turn and answer Jay before re-covering his lower face.

  “Not sure.” The odd sound came as a welcomed distraction from the pile of rotting meat that had been a human being a few days earlier. His eyes narrowed in an attempt to see through the trees and foliage. “Thought I heard a growl or scream. Something…”

  Melvin shrugged. “Maybe it was a bear. Aren’t they supposed to be eating a lot this time of year?” He wasn’t just talking about the sound the Sheriff heard. After driving past the car parked alongside the road he decided to have a look. When there wasn’t a white shirt or anything tied to it, his hopes of it being a breakdown were dashed.

  Being the deputy meant he needed to check to make sure the campers or hikers were safe. If that’s what they were. With all the stories about drug traffickers using the backwoods to grow their shit, he made his way along the path with his hand on the butt of his service revolver. He never wanted a nine millimeter more than right then, and he made mental plans to talk with Jay about upgrading their side arms when they were back at the station. That’s when he saw the first body. It’d been r
ipped apart and ravaged so badly that there was no way to tell who or what it’d been.

  His courage left him along with his lunch and he hurried back to his cruiser, its radio, and shotgun. After nearly choking on his words, he managed to relate his location and situation to Edith. She took care of the rest.

  Now with the sheriff and Doc Fredericks there, he wanted nothing more than to go home. Maybe he’d call his brother to see if he could get a job working in construction.

  Jay was so lost in his own thoughts he didn’t notice his deputy’s uncomfortable appearance. He couldn’t forget the image he’d seen at his grandfather’s. As much as he wanted to say it wasn’t real, he couldn’t find the strength to do so. “Maybe, but something tells me it’s something worse.” His hand rose to touch the pocket where he’d tucked the tied lock of hair his grandfather had given him. It took him a moment to understand what he did and his face flushed in embarrassment as if he were caught touching himself. He lowered his hand and turned back to the scene of the grisly murders. He was sure of that much now. Something out there was killing people and not for food.

  When Doc Fredericks approached him and explained what he thought had happened, Jay was curious that it didn’t surprise him. It was as though he expected to hear the details of how it appeared the couple was hunted for sport. The idea wasn’t new to him as he’d enjoyed watching the slasher films of the 1980s. Instead of the fictional naked women running around being slaughtered like sheep for having low morals, he was faced with the reality those movies were based on.

  He was about to thank the Doc when the man caught his attention with a line made famous in the movie Predator. “There’s something else.”