Chapter Eight
THE LOCAL FOREST RANGER, Lewis Stevens, was an old man with long, yellowish grey hair that matted against his face in an oily tangled mess. He had a week’s old stubble growing on his gaunt face and he sucked hard on a mangy cigarette that he’d started smoking earlier that day. Classical music, from a radio station 30 miles south, rolled in through the speakers, accompanied by the occasional hick-up of white noise and static. Like everyone else in this town, he drove a beat-up old truck that got 2 miles to the gallon and had more rust spots than chrome or quality paint.
Lewis was tired. He was tired of this crap-hole town and the people that lived in it. He was just thankful that he didn’t have to hang out here much, as his cabin was several miles into the forest, away from people. He hated people—how they looked and acted, how they treated each other, and the fact that they were always glued to the television or watching some sicko blood fest of a movie. He had visited the town’s two-screen theater today, hoping to catch a good Meg Ryan flick, but instead had to sit through some movie where they tortured back-packers in Asia. He was pissed and disgusted that someone would actually spend money to make a film depicting torture for pleasure, and even more disgusted that people would pay to see it. To him, it was nothing more than a snuff film that belonged to the pimps, whores, and drug addicts in the city. He had seen only 30 minutes of it before getting out of his chair, demanding his money back and telling off the manager of the joint for showing such crap. Though not a perfect angel himself, Lewis did know when something was wrong with a society, and he wanted no part of it.
The night was darker than usual. A thick setting of fog had rolled in before the storm, and he could barely see anything as he drove through the winding roads of the forest. It was hard to startle Lewis Stevens, man of the wild, protector of the forest, but on this lonely journey back up to his cabin in the forest, something gave him a pretty intense fright. He’d been driving and through the swirling fog, and he could swear he’d seen a woman standing on the side of the road, looking pale and scared and alone. He laughed about it after the initial shock wore off, and blamed it on the 30 minutes of movie he’d endured earlier that evening.
One long drag and he finished his cigarette. He flicked the smoldering butt to the floor and exhaled deeply into the cab. He lowered the window a few inches to air out the cab and allow some cool air to ventilate the stuffiness he felt around him. Up ahead, some more headlights cut through the fog, but pointing at a different angle than they should have. The lights cut through the fog up and to the side, illuminating the trees that bordered the road. Lewis grumbled something fierce as he slowed his truck down enough to stop just before reaching the source of the lights. He climbed out of the car and made his way through the fog that weaved around him like specters in a ghost story.
“Anyone out here,” he called into the night, just before he realized that the truck was upside down and resting on the crumpled cab. He stared at the truck a few seconds, sorting out the twisted mess of metal, and realized that the truck belonged to the Hacoms in town. He took a few more steps toward the heap of metal. Broken shards of glass crunched beneath his boots, reminding him of the sound of breaking bones. For the hundredth time, he cursed that stupid horror movie. The fog was so thick that even a few feet away from the truck it still blocked a full view. He knelt down beside the cab and looked inside, trying to wave the fog away and clear his vision.
“Hello?” he asked into the darkness, “Tim? Jamie? You’ll all right in there?” His dirty gray hair hung around his face and he knew that if someone was looking out at him, he’d be a scary sight to see. He heard a slight scraping inside the cab, followed by, “Jamie?” The voice was quiet and pained, belonging to Tim Hacom. Lewis climbed even further into the cab and reach around inside. He stopped short, recoiling slightly when his hand brushed up against a matted wet pulp of bloody hair and skin.
“Tim, is that you?” Lewis asked, “How bad are you hurt?”
“I can’t move my legs,” Tim responded weakly. “My legs are stuck underneath the dash board. It think… they’re broken. Is Jamie out there with you?” Lewis backed his head out from the window of the cab and glanced around, even though it was next to impossible to see anything in the fog. He shook his head and leaned back inside. He remembered the woman on the side of the road, the one who had startled him. He brushed aside the thought, focusing on the task at hand. Focusing on saving the dying kid.
“No. It’s just me out here. Where is your wife?” Tim replied, “She went for help. You didn’t see her on the road or anything? She’s been gone a long time and I’m really worried.”
See, Lewis thought, this is why the human race is dying. This guy is so preoccupied with that woman of his that he’ll bleed out while worrying about her. Stupid really. He leaned further inside to try and see how much of Tim’s legs were underneath the dash. The fog had seeped into the cab of the truck, making it hard as hard to see inside as it was outside.
“Tim. Are you bleeding?” Lewis asked, not really caring but trying to keep the kid talking. Lewis knew that if he was still bleeding, he’d have been bleeding for a long time and should have been dead from loss of blood. Lewis could hear Tim feeling around his body, searching for cuts and gashes. Tim said, “no, I think everything dried up. I think I’m okay except my legs.”
“Okay,” Lewis said, “I’m going to run back to my truck to get a flash light, I’ll be back in a few seconds.” He hesitated, “I don’t know if I can, but I’m going to see if I can get you out of here.”
“Can you look for Jamie? I think she’s out there and I think that she needs help.” Tim asked, again going back to that confounded woman of his. Worry about her when you can actually do something about it, Lewis thought angrily. He almost said so, but stopped himself. He knew he was too grumpy, especially with other people.
“Listen, I’m sure Jamie is okay, she probably made it to town and the sheriff is on the way.” He stood up and made his way back to his car through the swirling fog. He opened his door and rustled around under the seat. A few seconds later his hands settled on the cold steel of his flashlight and he pulled it out, clicking it on to make sure that it still had life. A bright beam of light cut through the darkness. He pointed the beam outside the truck, and the light caught something that made him jump slightly. For a second, it had looked as though something stood several feet away, watching him. He had distinctly seen a pale face through the fog, framed by something black. He shook his head and grumbled, “Damn movies.”
He walked quickly back to the overturned truck, sure that his mind was playing tricks on him. Of course no one was out here, he reassured himself, its damn cold. He leaned down and shone the flashlight into the truck.
“Still okay, there Tim?” he asked. Tim looked over at him and smiled into the beam. Tim said, “Mr. Stevens. I thought that sounded like you. I am sure glad that you drove along, this has been one rough night.” The boy coughed, sending a fine mist of blood and slobber into the air. Lewis shook his head, knowing that the kid was in rough shape.
“I’m sure the night has been hard,” Lewis responded. He moved the light away from Tim’s face to his legs to see how badly damaged they were, and as he did, he saw the face though the window just beyond the other side of the truck. It startled him so badly that he almost dropped the flashlight. His breathing intensified and his heart pounded so hard that it ached inside his chest. He tried to ignore the overwhelming anxiety building within him and pointed the beam of light everywhere he could, trying to catch another glimpse of whatever prowled out there. He tried to tell himself that it was an animal, but no. He had seen the face, grotesquely similar to a human face, but different.
Tim’s legs were pinned from his knees down, and Lewis didn’t think he could get the kid’s legs free without climbing inside the truck and pushing up on the dashboard with his legs. Even then, the legs probably would not come free without cutting some of the dash away. Lewis found it hard to concentrate, though. He kept looking over his shoulder, or glancing through the broken windows of the truck. The image of that face burned in his mind, and he was unable to think of anything else.
“What happened, Tim?” he asked, trying desperately to focus on the task at hand. Tim shook his head slowly, getting weaker by the moment, as if just being awake and talking expended too much energy.
“We were driving along, coming back from the lot I just bought, you know, where I’m going to build our home.”
Lewis nodded—he’d seen the lot several times while visiting different areas of the forest—Tim continued, “Jamie said she saw something standing on the side of the road, then she got to acting really strange. She kept touching her head, and then she screamed at me for no reason. Next thing I know, some bozo threw a huge rock at us and it smashed our windshield.” He stopped and he looked sheepish, if it was possible at a time like this, in the middle of the night, pinned beneath a truck that had flipped over, “I guess I just lost control of the truck and we crashed. Pretty much everything is a blur since then, except when Jamie left.” He tried to push up on the dash to free his legs, but the effort was futile. He continued, “I’ve been awake for an hour or so, a little less dizzy and groggy. I’ve been trying to get out from under here since, but” he nodded to his unmoving legs, “as you can see, I haven’t had a whole lot of luck.”
Lewis was afraid to shine the light anywhere else but at Tim—he was sure that something lurked and waited for him out there in the fog and shadows, and he didn’t like it. The feeling was strange to him because the forest had never made him afraid—a sensation that only added to the uneasiness. He asked, tentatively, “Have you seen anything strange out here?”
“Not really. Just heard animals and things out there in the woods. I think the mind really plays around with you more when you’re alone in a place like this.” Tim chuckled a little, and then more seriously, “I can’t stop thinking about Jamie, though. I think she might be in trouble. I mean, she should have made it to town by now, even walking.”
Lewis thought for a moment, sweat building on his dirty hairline as well as on the small of his back. The white face floated in his mind, leering and mocking, waiting for the flashlight beam to wander away from reality and into the unknown. Goosebumps swelled on Lewis’ skin, causing his arm and leg hair to stand on end. For a moment he wondered about the anatomy that fueled the feeling of fear and the effect it had on the body. He realized he had a decision to make. Everything added up in his mind, reminding him of something that had happened a week ago in the woods. Something he had tried very hard to forget. Those memories and the feelings associated with those thoughts came flooding back. He remembered the bodies. The monster. It felt like a dream, and he still didn’t know if it was real or not, but the thoughts caused the fear ache in his belly.
“Lewis?” Tim asked, trying to break the silence, “What do you think we should do?” Lewis watched him lie there in the truck, completely helpless. He answered, “I need to radio for help. The radio is in my truck.” He motioned with the light and his head toward his vehicle, still dreading the fact that he would be alone in the fog for a few moments before reaching the safety of his truck. He stood reluctantly and turned away from Tim. Something big and dark swished through the fog between him and the truck. He jumped back, almost dropping the light once again. A branch cracked to one side and he thought he heard a whisper in the darkness just beyond the beam of his light. He started toward his truck, but suddenly he lost all orientation and sense of direction. His light cut into the fog, supposedly in the direction of his truck, but he couldn’t be sure. The shadow crossed again in front of him, again darting through the beam of light. Lewis saw a leg, long and grey, and part of the body, as the thing darted into the darkness. His arms and legs seemed to lose all feeling and became cold. He forced himself to take a step closer to his truck, lying to himself about his situation, trying desperately to feel a small amount of comfort.
“The radio…” he whispered, and stepped forward. He stepped on some glass and it cracked, causing him to jump slightly. Sweat ran down his shoulder blades and into his pants, pooling in his already damp underwear. Glass, not from under his foot, cracked only feet away from where he stood. He flung the light in that direction and caught another hurried glimpse of a figure, crouched over and snarling. He threw the flashlight in the direction of whatever had joined them out in the middle of the forest, (probably only a bear, the rational side of his mind kept insisting) and chugged for his truck. He jumped inside and slammed the door shut, panting for only a fraction of a second before turning the ignition and starting the big diesel engine. He jammed the truck into gear and sped off into the swirling fog, not once looking into his mirror. Tim was on his own tonight, he thought. He had no idea what had happened out there in the fog or why he felt the way he did, but he wanted no part of it. Forest ranger Lewis Stevens, man of the wild, drove quickly home, slowing only once to flip on the cab light and glance quickly in the back seat, making sure he had no unwanted passengers.
To be continued next Friday, September 25, 2015, the full novel to be revealed in parts by Halloween.
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© 2008, Derrick Hibbard. All Rights Reserved.
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