"Officers are on the way, stay there…" The operator tries to keep him calm, using the voice she was trained to use.
The only words that matter to him are, help is on the way. So sorry, I'm really sorry, he thinks as he hangs up the phone. I never should have gone to sleep. What kind of friend am I? Skinner looks at his phone and turns up the volume. He had turned off the volume when he was out on the hunt.
The first officers arrive in fifteen minutes, but it felt like an hour to Skinner.
"Who are you, young man?" one of the two officers asks as he walks to the SUV.
"Skinner, I mean Biff, Biff Johnson," he speaks to the officer too fast. He wants to tell him to get in the woods. "My friends are out there, please go find them."
"We will, Mr. Johnson, please give us just a minute," he tells Skinner.
One more police car pulls in, carrying two more officers. They walk over to Skinner and the other officers.
Skinner fills them in on all the information he has. He explains he wasn’t drunk, showing them his bites, pointing to the ticks still on him. Within fifteen minutes, the officers are on the move and ready to go in the woods.
Now he's missing his friends, Skinner dials Bob’s number repeatedly. He hopes he'll soon get an answer from the other end. He remembers all the stuff, good or bad it didn't matter, that his friends and him have done during their friendship. Anything to keep his mind busy.
One officer will be stationed to stay at the lake to watch and wait for signs of the boys. The other officers will enter the forest to search. An officer walks over to the SUV, chats small talk, and gives Skinner updates. Skinner can care less what the officer is saying; he just wants to know when his friends are found. He wants them here with him and he has been ordered to stay put in the vehicle.
"Don’t want to add one more to the missing," one of the officers tells him.
Skinner's stomach growls and he feels guilty for being safe and hungry. Help is on the way; hold on buddies! He digs around the interior of the truck, looking for something to eat. He needs to fill the void in his stomach. Crackers with cheese in a nifty little tray, are resting on the backseat, he knows they're Erick's. His stomach is overpowering his emotions, he opens up the small container, and the smell of cheese hits his nose. He eats the snack and then gets a beer from the cooler.
Chapter 11
Dark
"Greg, Greg, wake up man, I’m sorry! I didn’t know you were there!" Bob screams at his friend.
He's more scared now than when he was being stalked. How in the hell did he shoot his friend, his true friend?
"Please man, please be alright!" Bob tries to steady his voice as his lips tremble.
He bends down next to his buddy to search for the bullet wound, knowing he must apply pressure. Blood is oozing from his friend's left shoulder. He tears the shirt away from the area. Close inspection lets him know he hadn’t hit anything vital. His friend will be okay if he can get him help soon. Bob takes the pieces of shirt in his hands and begins applying pressure. He gets out his cell phone with his free hand and shakily dials 911. Next, he tries Erick’s phone; the voice mail service answers so he hangs up. He then tries Skinner and still gets no answer. Bob doesn't want to relieve the pressure on his friend's shoulder so he puts the phone in his pocket. He must wait for help.
He listens to the dark world and hopes he'll never hear that awful "crunch" sound again. It is an unusual sound for this kind of forestry; a sound which scares him.
Bob can feel Greg stir around with some groaning sounds as he tries to wake.
"Come on Greg, wake up." Bob pats him on the face as he is pleads for him to recover.
Greg’s eyes slowly open for a second then shut tight again.
He's going to be okay, I know he will, he thinks. Bob sits next to Greg and holds one hand on the wound while softly patting his friend's face with the other.
Half an hour goes by before he opens his eyes again.
"What happened? Where am I?" Greg almost whispers. He's still lying on the ground with his friend next to him, his skin as pale as his body is weak.
Bob can hear the quivering voice and it's noticeable, by the look of relief so plain on his face.
"You’re okay, it's going to be okay," Bob replies. He cradles his buddy’s head against his legs.
Gently, Greg's eyes shut, but not fully as his mind tries to interact with this world. He opens them again. His pain is clearly showing deep into the glassy orbs.
"My shoulder hurts like hell," Greg quietly speaks, but with a little more strength to his voice. His lips are no longer quivering.
"Here," Bob says as he puts a bottle of water to his friend's mouth. "Drink this."
Greg gags slightly when he receives a few sips down his dry throat. The cool water in his mouth improves his wakefulness and makes him feel slightly more alive. He takes a few more sips and the cool water hits in the bottom of his stomach. A wave of nausea comes over him, but passes just as fast as it came.
"That's enough," he says to Bob.
* * *
Erick is still wandering listlessly around the forest, lost with confusion. Damn, how could I let this happen? he thinks to himself. He knows he should sit down and wait. Earlier he heard a gun fire and he hoped one of his buddies got his prey.
He knows they are looking for him, they had to be, his friends will get help. Oh well, at least I found some mushrooms walking around this forest. He tries to keep his mind busy. The pockets of his hunting jacket are stuffed full and he pats them to verify the mushrooms are still there.
What is that? He hears something that put chills down his spine. Don’t move, just listen. His brain now kicks into overdrive. Erick stands still like a statue in a fountain, which way did that come from? he thinks again. Dark is now falling in on him with barely enough light to see in the woods, shit this is the last thing I need! His thoughts are not reassuring.
Crack!
He hears behind him and he spins around to see what it might be, nothing. He can’t see more than ten feet away, damn the dark, this last thought chills him. Erick still holds his gun to his chest, and he now slowly raises it to take aim. Although he's not hearing any sounds from the noise maker, he knows something is peering through the thickness of the trees. He decides to stay on guard. He feels something's profoundly wrong in his soul.
Swoosh!
The sound fills Erick's hearing followed by air flowing forcefully around him like a fan blowing on high. Then he hears a....
Hoot hoot.
He sees the grandiose owl soaring through the night air, as the leaves floating through the darkened space settle back to the cold earth.
"Damn bird!" Erick yells at the lovely nocturnal beast.
His heart thuds so hard against his chest it's as if it's blasting in a coalmine. He can feel the vibrations deep in his inner core. He returns to his guard duty. Now with some hope, the owl might be his noise maker.
* * *
"What happened?" Greg asks him again when he realizes he's somehow hurt. The pain is dreadful.
"You were shot and I'm afraid to tell you this, but I'm the one who shot you," Bobs says, with clear regret in his voice. "I’m sorry man, really sorry."
His eyes are tearing up, purely from the regret. He hopes his friend will somehow forgive him; he truly didn’t mean to do it.
"It’s okay, man, I’m still here…" Greg’s voice is weakening and fading out, "I’m tired." He closes his eyes once more.
To watch his strong friend struggle this way is heart breaking. As Bob sits there with true remorse, the tears flow down his cheeks. He hopes help will be there soon. Bob sends a text messages to the other two. Why aren't the police here yet? Where are Skinner and Erick? These questions go through his mind, while he sits there crying like a child. He looks at his phone. The battery indicator shows only one bar left, damn, he knows he better call someone before his phone goes dead. He tries Skinner and still no answer. He will keep trying to con
tact Skinner every ten or fifteen minutes, or until his phone battery is gone.
In the meantime, he needs to make one more very important call.
"Hello."
He feels relief and dread as the person answers.
Bob takes a deep breath.
"I have some bad news," he tells Greg’s father on the other end of the line. "Yes, help's on the way and when we get to the hospital I'll call you again."
After he hangs up from the call, he looks at the phone, 7:43 p.m. The battery light is blinking. The woods are dark and in the stillness of the night, he hears a growl, an unmistakable sound, somewhere in the distant forest. He hopes whatever made that sound stays away.
* * *
Erick still has a dreadful sense something is watching him from the wooded area. He swears he can hear low breathing, just waiting for the right opportunity to show itself. It isn’t long before he hears the eerie noise break the night air silence. Erick listens closely to the crunching noise. It sounds more like footsteps.
YES! His chest pounds in excitement, they found me.
"OVER HERE!" he yells, his voice carrying loudly. "You’re lucky I didn’t shoot your ass." He lowers his gun and the only reply he receives is a low depressing growl.
"Oh shit!" he screams in pure panic. All thoughts of rescue are gone from his terrified mind. His pants are suddenly wet down one leg as he softly cries and begs for his life. He lifts his gun quickly and tries to keep it steady. He can see eyes, glowing blue eyes, and teeth shining as if they are crystals in a cave.
Grrrrrowl….
The sound makes its way through the entire forest.
Oh Lord! Don’t let me miss, Erick thinks as he feels the heat of the creature's breath. He closes his eyes tight and pulls the trigger.
Bam!
The gun fire echoes off the blacken trees in the darkness.
Erick feels the teeth penetrate his wrist and he opens his eyes. The animal rips the rifle from him along with his right hand. He sees it spit out his gun with a hand still attached to the trigger. Erick's scream is unreal, not a sound attributable to any man. The animal twists its head back toward Erick and studies him for a few seconds. Erick can't stop screaming as he's losing touch with reality. He sees the creature open its mouth, and a large tongue extends from its deep, dark throat. The tongue is rough and slimy as it licks Erick from his torso to his forehead. When it slides across his face, Erick stops screaming. It's trying out the menu before taking a full bite. The hard slap of a paw against his left cheek sends him to the ground. How did I miss? is his last thought as his brain shuts down. The animal of the Black Woods is clawing him around the forest floor like Erick is a cat toy. It rips flesh with each blow of its oversize paws and protruding knife-like talons. Teeth dig into Erick's neck to pull a fresh hunk of meat into its mouth. The scene is so bloody, that everything within twenty feet glows red. When the creature’s sure its prey is dead, it lets out a deafening cry. All wildlife in the area run away, fear shooting through their small bodies. The large creature rises upon its hind legs, almost sitting, then leaps into the air and disappears as quickly as it arrived.
Erick’s body is no longer recognizable, his head is only pieces of flesh mangled with clumps of hair. His clothing is torn to shreds, gun lying beside him, useless. Scattered on and around his body, are mushrooms dripping with thick red liquid.
The animal sits in the forest using its large porous tongue to clean the blood from its paws while it waits for the next victims.
* * *
The first two officers enter the woods together and cross the marshy area until they're on solid ground. They separate to cover the land more quickly. The youngest officer goes north while the other travels west. They know the reputation of the woods, but it's their jobs to serve and protect. With guns at their sides, the officers feel confident they're prepared as they walk alone in the Black Woods.
The other two officers are still at the lake with Skinner. One is almost ready to proceed into the woods as soon as he finishes the details with the other officer. He's worried to enter those woods and he's sure the other officers have their own emotions about this rescue. Two of the officers there tonight did a recovery in the woods once. They went right in, found the person, the body, and right back out. Most who enter don’t make it far into these woods before something happens. This is different, these boys have been out for hours now, and they may be to the other side. The Black Woods is a long, narrow area, only two acres across and twenty acres back; more than likely, they have wandered off the Black Woods area, or at least the officers hope so. The last call for these woods was over two years ago, not long enough for them. The third officer is ready for the search and he swiftly enters the woods.
* * *
Brad Presley is one of the first officers to enter the woods. He walks north as he searches. He's a young, energetic man who is ready to take this on and retrieve the lost. As he’s the new kid on the force, he’s never been on a missing person call. Excitement pumps fast, but within thirty-five or forty minutes he's spooked and slowing down. The woods are so dark; he didn’t expect that. He's carrying an inadequate flashlight, shining in a straight line only about seventeen feet. Shit, he thinks when he trips on every root and rock. He scans with the lousy light, and all he sees is hills, big hills. This area is maybe around forty acres, but including up and down the hills, it’s double that. He can see some other lights bobbing around in the woods like some old scene from a scary movie. He knows they are co-workers fundamentally doing their jobs.
Brad stops to take surveillance of his surroundings.
"Greg, Erick, or Bob, can you hear me?" he says loudly. "Officer Brad here to help." In a few minutes, he'll move on if there's no reply from the young men. Faintly he can hear someone else yell the similar call, as they all look for the missing.
He is wishing the state issued better flashlights when he hears a slight scratching sound. Not much of a sound, but enough to make him stop and listen some more. After a bit he decides he's letting his mind get the better of him so he moves on. A strange and eerie feeling washes over him, as his skin prickles with goose bumps.
He must change his thoughts, so he thinks about his wife of just three months to relieve the dreadful feeling. He never thought he would find someone like her. She's his perfect life partner. His mind is lost in thought when he hears the scratching sound again. It seems to be coming from over head. He looks up and studies the treetops, nothing he can see. His nerves are now tingling like he has stuck his finger in a light socket.
* * *
Greg's fully awake now. He speaks with Bob as they try to build a plan.
"I remember the way back, it's only about an hour," Greg says. "Help me up so we can get moving."
"I don’t know if that's a good idea. You’ve lost a lot of blood and you need your rest," Bob says.
"I understand, but we've got to try. I need a doctor." Greg pushes up his body with his right arm. He slowly rises, but wobbles to his knees and falls back to the ground. The earth is growing cold along with the night air and he's losing body heat with wet pants and half a shirt. He figures it won’t take long before his body will react to the elements. His arms are heavy, too heavy for him to lift.
"Please help me," he pleads to his friend.
Bob knows what Greg says is true; they do need to get out of there fast. Bob gets to his feet and turns around to squat in front of his friend. He looks like he's going to take a dump right there.
"Ah man, if you have to do that, go someplace else." Greg still has his sense of humor.
This put a smile on Bob’s face, it's good to hear his friend make a joke, and it actually gives both boys the expectation of a safe return.
"You dumb shit, grab my shoulders and I'll let you tag on my back," Bob says, and smiles.
"I can’t, my arms are too weak. Sorry man," Greg says. He tries to think of some other way, when he notices it's dark. "Hey, what time is it?"
"
I don’t know. My cell phone died. Why?" Bob doesn't understand why it matters.
"No real reason; just wondering, it feels late," he answers.
"I don’t think it’s all…" Bob starts to reply, but Greg stops him with a wave of a hand.
"What happened to you earlier? I mean, what scared you?" He remembers why he's there with his friend.
"Oh, it sounds stupid now. I thought something was stalking me and I felt like I was on the other end of the hunt. Stupid huh?" He shrugs his shoulders to indicate his own disbelief.
"It does sound stupid, but you’re not the one to get spooked, so something must have been going on," Greg says as he tries to stand again. "Where's the help? Did you call anyone?"
"Hell, yeah, I’ve called and I don’t understand it. They should have been here a long time ago," he says with a sharp pissed off tone, not intending it for Greg, but out of aggravation that no one's there.
"Where’s my cell phone?" Greg asks.
Bob looks shocked, he hadn’t even thought about Greg having one, but of course, he would.
"I don’t know I didn’t see one. Check your pants," Bob tells him.
"I didn’t have it in my pants. They were wet so I put it in my shirt pocket," he says, and pats his chest for the phone. "No pocket on that side, it’s gone."
"Shit," Bob says, and he drops to his knees. He digs around the ground searching for the cell phone.
Greg tries to help by patting ground around his legs the best he can.
"Did you move me, you know, after the accident?" he asks Bob. He didn't want to say "after you shot me."