The Deep, Dark Woods

Frank Ellis, a retired Massachusetts cop is on the hunt to catch a werewolf in the depths of New Hampshire. Little does he know it takes two to play such a deadly game.

“THE DEEP, DARK WOODS”

By,

Bradford Corvi

 

 

 

 

The evening was surprisingly warm for a New England autumn. October was reaching its end and the snowfalls of New Hampshire were a monster of itself. Having now been a retired Massachusetts cop for a month, I had seen my share of monsters over the years.

            The sun was settling down over the Red Maples and I knew the hour was drawing close. With only my Bloodhound, Rusty, by my side, a pack of beef jerky and my old Remington, I knew I was in for a long night. I always carried light whenever I was on the hunt, since I had no desire to set up a mobile house in the thick of the woods. Throughout the trip, I swore up and down this would be the last time I fire a weapon.

            With my wife, Susan, staying home in Quincy, Massachusetts, reminding me to take my pills after every meal, I was glad to get away. For a moment, I put aside my wife and focused on what lied ahead. I cared deeply for my wife, but I was annoyed with everyone treating me like a toddler, right after my heart attack last spring.

I was well aware who I was"Frank Ellis, fifty two years old, registered Republican and the proud owner of a new, blue Ford F-150. You could put it on my tombstone and I’d be perfectly fine with it. I had been coming up to New Hampshire all my life, but this was the first time I ever stepped foot in the distant town of Roxbury.

It was centered deep in Cheshire County, with a population of only 228 people. It looked like no outsider had visited in fifty years"like it was abandoned by the rest of the world, just isolated by trees and hills. Surely, anyone could leave, but it seemed no one ever did. Maybe they were all contempt with living alone. I understood that at times.

            Everyone who lived here appeared gentle and set, but kept silent at my reasons for being there. Yes, hunters came through all the time, but my purpose was more than chasing deer and fowl. It was filled with doubt, and no one showed the slightest sense of confidence in my doing.

            One mention of her name and the townspeople all snickered grumbled. Vivian White was the wealthiest woman in town and it seemed the people resented her for that. She had spent the last eighteen years as a widow and lived on the far end of Roxbury. Her house was far enough to keep the children away and the mailman skeptical of his deliveries.

            Her home was of fine brick, which her husband Albert, built with his own two hands. All she did was contribute a pumpkin patch in the back yard. Personally, I found her manner like an elderly aunt"weary, but generous. We sat in her parlor and she held nothing back.

            Vivian had contacted me through my local gun club in that I had the most experience in hunting wolves. For the last two months, one had been spotted the woods surrounding Roxbury. She showed me the papers revealing the horrific headlines of three deaths. A fourteen-year old boy was discovered mutilated by a river on the night before Halloween, and the other read of a mother her five-year old daughter slain in the same woods. My heart sank over the stories.

            The details were grave with claims of a giant wolf stalking the woods. My imagination sank to the notions of werewolves. I told Vivian, if everyone’s going around sighting Big Foot and Jersey Devils, I wouldn't rule it out. Being the old lady she was, my humor was not to her liking.

Everyone in town seemed concerned, but far too nervous to take action. I had to give the old lady credit, for calling me and stepping up for my help. Once she revealed her pay of $60,000 for the wolf, I felt the room was spinning. Before I departed, she gave me two requests. One was to bring back a piece of the wolf, whether it was a paw, a tail or head, she needed to be sure it was dead.  I found it odd, but kept that to myself. Her second favor was far more interesting.

            Over the fireplace was a wooden box placed next to her husband’s urn. With her back towards me she placed what was inside in a tiny sack and handed me the bag. I asked her what was inside, but she would not answer. All she said was a plea, that whatever was inside, I wouldn't open it until I encountered the wolf. Her message was clear in her elderly, witch tone.

            “Do not open it until you see the wolf.” She said. Hours had passed and I could still hear her gravelly voice. Still, I accepted her request and with her check waiting for my return, I agreed and set out with my dog.

            The sky had gone from crimson to black and I knew right there, the hunt had began. He could see me. He could smell me. Most men went to great lengths to hide like camouflage, but I didn't have the time. I tied the sack around Rusty’s neck like a leash"knowing I had to pack light as possible if I was to catch a wolf.

            In catching a predator of this caliber, I had to be honest with myself and step further into the shadows. I reached into my cooler and tossed out two slabs of raw venison in the hopes he’d sense the fresh carcass. Rusty and I stepped through the trees and out from my jacket pocket, I reached out my Knight and Hale caller. I placed it up to my lips and blew out the squall of a Jack Rabbit in distress.

            I puckered my cheeks tight to make sure I blew the sound right. Rusty’s ears perched up, but the wolf was far from the spot. The wind was whispering like a dark, deadly secret"ordering him to turn back. As usual, I defied and hiked forward.

            “What the hell are you doing?” I asked myself. “ You've killed many wolves before. Why should this one be any different?”

            Maybe it was the loneliness of the town, or the request of an old, superstitious widow paying top dollar to collect a dead wolf. The town raised too many questions, and I was afraid to discover the answers.

            The meat was spread out, but the only creature I could spot was an owl that leered down from a high branch. I always thought there was something sinister about their eyes"like a murderer’s intent to strike and my sweat began to perspire. These were private hunting grounds I was hiking and the atmosphere brought a scent of its own.

            I suddenly felt a revelation of myself. I was confident, but I was also old with an unstable heart. My wolf-hunting days should’ve been far behind me. For what was left, my only motivation was Mrs. White’s money and it didn’t take much to shake off my nerves.

            There was no party to ride with and I was miles away from Roxbury, not that I would walk about their streets at night. Rusty stood by my side and his snout began to dig deep in the dirt. I followed the trail that lied by the Otter Brook Lake and an instant he picked up a lead.

            I called out the Jack Rabbit squall for the third time and suddenly I heard a response. Not a scream, not a screech nor a howl, but the snapping of tiny branches. My first thought was a bear, but the thumping was far too light for such a massive beast. With the moon as my light, I raised my Remington and cocked back the trigger.

            Rusty stood alert and began growling into the dark. My rifle was at attention and my eyes were straight. The branches had stopped breaking and the owls had long flown away. There was a slight sound tampering in the dark. My hearing opened wider. I toyed with the idea of paws patting the grass. Whatever it was I could hear it stepping closer.

            I stood in suspense, only to be shocked by relief. I lowered my gun at the presence of a deer. Its eyes stared straight at my body as if asking for directions. There it stood, in all its beauty and my affection drew near.  For a brief moment I enjoyed its presence until a grim shock of nature dived forward and swiped it all away.

            Out from the shadows, a massive Gray Wolf leaped out and tackled the dear. I was so stricken I fired a shot but missed entirely as it dragged the dear back into the darkness. Rusty let out a series of barks as I fell off my feet"rattled by the attack. I lay in the dirt and suddenly my heart began to beat wildly. It brought me back to the day I collapsed on in my driveway. I was suddenly visited by bad memories. Like an unwanted guest, the taunted me.

            I felt no pain, but my breath was drawing short. Within seconds, my legs went numb and the sweat began to drizzle down my forehead. I could hear the wolf howl and my mind sank to the worst of my thoughts. He was near. The beast was a few feet away from me and I, the hunter, had become his prey.  God forbid the wolf called out an entire pack to feast on my flesh. I’d drown myself in the lake before I let that happen.

As my body was curled in the fetal position, I reached into my jacket and took out my pills. Like water in the desert, I quickly consumed my thirst for recovery. I swallowed them whole, and my senses were slowly forming together.

            “Rusty! Get back here!” I hollered out, but it was too late.

            Like a dart, he shot out into the dark and I was in no state to chase him. I eased up from the dirt and picked up my rifle. As I tried to gather my gear, I noticed something dreadful. Something was lost, and it was essential not just to kill, but to survive. My eyes scattered around, but being surround by darkness, my box of ammunition was nowhere in sight. Needless to say, I panicked.  I opened the chamber and noticed I had three rounds left inside. Three rounds"it was all I had, but nothing that I needed. With Rusty lost in the woods and my lost ammo, I felt trapped.  It was as if the wolf himself was trying to catch me, and he was having the upper hand.

            I cocked back my rifle and ventured on into the woods. It only took me a few feet before I encountered the wolf again. Our eyes locked. His large, callous eyes reminded me he owned the woods and to escape, one must pay with his life.  The moonlight shined well onto his thick fur and it made me wonder just how far I had gone into the woods.

He had just finished devouring the deer as he licked his lips like a true savage. I had never seen a wolf of such size. His built was impressive and his look was far unique than other breed I had seen in my years. His fur was a mixture of gray and black and his eyes were like gold. Even with strips of flesh dangling from his chin and lips smeared in fresh blood, there was something captivating about him.

Like the wolf he was, he stood on all fours and growled and sneered at my presence. I had seen this before, but he did next something I only dreamed of seeing. I was too stiff to notice it, but his front legs weren't legs at all. The wolf stood upright, like a man and his front legs were massive arms with claws like daggers"just itching to pierce my skin.

My jaw dropped and my feet froze like ice. He was bigger than me and revealed all of his fine, razor teeth. I could see the deer was just a mere snack and he wanted my body as main course, but I wasn't stuck with fear entirely. As I stared deep into his predator eyes, I remembered why I stepped out here. I raised the gun high so his eyes would meet the barrel. My finger leaned into the trigger and I fired.

The wolf lashed out his hand and carved his claws into my arm so deep, that I dropped my rifle while the shot was delivered. I nicked his ear, and my arm dropped with blood. With my rifle a good two feet across from me, I crouched at the mercy of the beast. As if events couldn't turn any worse, the old lady’s voice emerged in my head again. I stood before the wolf, but without that damn sack she told me to use I didn't know what to think. With my luck, it was likely a box of damn silver bullets, like in the movies, not that it would've done me any good with my own gun lying two feet across from me. It was out of my sight and my only dog was nowhere to be heard.

My body was furious with pain and the wolf seemed charmed by the sight of my suffering. In his own sadistic manner, he circled me while I pressed my right hand into my left arm. He was taunting me, but I blind in finding a way to escape his sight. For the moment, all I could think of was Susan, my grand kids, and my fine cut lawn that I’d never see again.

Suddenly the wolf seemed to howl a tune. It was grim, like he was planning on singing it at my funeral, after he’d rip my chest open like a sirloin steak. I stood motionless and defeated and the wolf seized the advantage. I cried out for help, but far out the reach of a nearby house. The wolf pounced upon my chest and barked like the sick, mad dog and his breath was as rotten as a corpse. My eyes drowned in tears but I did not belt out like an infant. My screams were silent as the wolf stood above my chest with some sort of vengeance to bite down and snap his teeth into my skull.

I tried to wrestle him off, but with one arm bleeding excessively and my heart pumping rapidly again, I stood no chance. The smell of fear was ripe on me and he embraced every scent of it. I swore to God I would die as a werewolf’s dinner, until my eyes shifted towards the right. The wolf noticed my focus had changed and the wolf eased off to see who had arrived.

Like he was Heaven-sent, Rusty stood with the old lady’s bag tucked under his teeth. The wolf stepped off and he carefully made his way towards my dog. Rusty tossed out the bag, but the wolf kept his eyes on him. I tried doing both and watching my dog while grabbing the back. At that moment, I reached into the bag for the first time and was quite impressed with what was inside.

It was sharp, it was vicious, and it was beautiful. I now held in my grip, a silver Bowie Knife with jagged ridges along the side. It was perfect. I was still in rough shape and even with such a fine blade; I still had to pace myself. I let out a tearful scream as Rusty and the wolf started to crash with their teeth and claws.

Never in my life, had I seen Rusty turn like a savage and fight toe-to-toe with such a predator. Who knew Bloodhounds could act so aggressive? I watched in suspense with the knife clenched tight in my good hand. My throat dropped into my stomach when I saw what occurred next. The wolf swung his clawing hands into my dog’s shoulder and in an instant, the blood began to squirt.

Rusty let out a whimper and hobbled away, but the wolf showed no sign of letting down. He marched towards Rusty with the intent of a full-on kill, and I was not standing by. My strength was small, but enough to tackle the wolf from behind.

He elbowed me in the eye and I was once again on my back with his hands carving into my rib cage. He lout a long, fearless howl as the moon glistened over the lake and just like him; I too, seized the moment. With the dagger locked in my grip I drove the silver Bowie Knife right into the wolf’s chest.

His cry was shrieking in pain as I continued to carve my way through his beastly flesh. The wolf froze with the intense burn of the knife and I showed no sign of retreating. He didn't want me out of his sight, and that’s just what I promised him. I wasn't leaving that wolf till his eyes closed and his breath paused for eternity.

The wolf had gone from howling to screaming in anguish as I carved deep and pulled out the souvenir. The old lady wanted something in return and I had decided what I was going to give her. I dropped the knife and reached in deep with my bear hands. I pulled out his heart which continued to beat madly for about a minute. The wolf fell over by my side and we were both lying in blood.

The air tasted sweet, like rising from the water after seeming to drown. Someone had died that night and I was relieved it wasn’t me. All of a sudden my eyes opened wider. I got back my wife, my grand kids, and my porch which I was craving to see again.

Rusty hobbled over and I wrapped my arms around him. Now that I had time to breath, I pulled out my gauze tape and wrapped some strips around his shoulder and my arm. The Bowie Knife was drizzled in blood and I didn't even bother to wipe it off. I put the blade back into the sack and I carried the heart back to the cooler. My watch read 10:45 pm and the idea of crashing on the seat of my truck seemed pretty sweet.

The hike was long, but Rusty and I didn't care. We picked up the cooler and arrived back at the truck. I carried him inside and I climbed into the driver’s seat with the door locked. I kept the engine off, but with these new models I could still play the radio. I had always liked Outlaw Country and I let the sweet, somber voice of Willie Nelson take me away with his version of Georgia. I leaned back and kept my eyes closed till the light of the sun returned and I swore to myself and the Lord above I’d never hunt again.

The next morning I drove up to Vivian White’s manor and wasted no time in stepping to her front door. With the cooler in my hand I rang the doorbell twice. She opened and greeted in her violet, silk bathrobe. I could see she was speechless in my return.

“Can I make you some coffee?”

“No thank you, Mrs. White, I really should be driving back. You can rest assure though, I found the wolf.”

Vivian nearly dropped her teacup on the coffee table. “He’s dead? You caught him?”

“Why do I get the feeling I’m not the first to attempt this?” There was something she held back. Like a great shame or guilt of a burden. I couldn't drive back to Massachusetts without knowing.

“Mr. Ellis…I’m afraid I haven’t been completely honest with you. I know you’ll think I’m crazy but we folks here in Roxbury have superstitions of our own.”

I was intrigued. I had no idea where she was going with this, but I agreed to hear more.

“You’re well aware of my late husband, Albert. He built water refineries in Cheshire County. He gained a reputation for shutting down businesses by making deals with the state. Albert just happened to know the right kind of people, as you can see we've lived pretty well because of it.”

“I see.” I was still clueless over her words, but I continued to play along. “It seems every time I mentioned your name, everyone here in Roxbury turned me away. Is this the reason why?”

“I wouldn't put it past me. This town has always been my home and I have no desire to move anyplace else. Mr. Ellis I don’t want to waste any more of your time and thank you for slaying that wolf. Here is your $60,000 like I promised.” Vivian said as she reached into her purse.

I accepted the check and folded it into pocket. But there was still something I just had to ask. “Mrs. White, why did you call me? I read the papers and I can see this town has been deeply affected by the murders but you called me personally and paid me a ridiculous amount of money. I don’t hunt for cash. I do it for the simple sport.”

“After the second murder, police noticed evidence of wolf prints, but there hasn’t been a wolf sighting in these parts for thirty-five years. I knew this was no ordinary wolf. Two men before you tried to hunt it, but never came back. By all accounts, you shouldn’t have either, yet here you are, sitting here in my living room. I can see you escaped with by the skin of your teeth, but nevertheless, you stand alive.”

            “As a cop, I’ve spent the last thirty years of my life reading people. This wolf was personal to you. This was no just another animal. When we first met, I noticed how tense you became when I joked at the idea of a werewolf. Now after last night, I saw enough terror to make me believe anything. So Mrs. White, I’m going to ask you, where is your husband’s grave? Clearly a woman of your status could afford a fine burial with a casket. There is nothing in that urn above your mantle is there?”

            Vivian lowered her head and tucked in her lip. The tension was as thick enough to cut it with the Bowie Knife and she simply nodded in agreement to me.

            “Why didn’t you tell me? Does anyone know? And what made you so sure of his transformation?” I know it was a lot at once, but how often in life do you meet someone whose husband is a Goddamn werewolf? This was something I’d take to my own grave and I wasn’t leaving without a story to drive back with.

            “Albert loved hiking. It was the only time he felt relaxed. Every Saturday evening he’d walk the trail by the lake. The one time I never went with him, I ended up regretting it ever since.”

            “He never came back?”

            “No. That’s just it. He returned hours after midnight with blood dripping from his forehead and a high fever. I was stricken with paranoia and asked him what happened. He told me he couldn’t remember a single thing. His neck was itching and I thought he had gotten rabies from a raccoon or something. As I ran into the next room to try and call the doctor I hear him making all sorts of noises. He screamed, he growled and grunted"like an animal.

            I returned to the parlor and collapsed in fright at what I saw. His clothes were ripped off and his entire body was captured in fur. Albert turned and stared at me for a moment. I collapsed in tears and like a helpless child, I pleaded for him not to hurt me. He howled at the chandelier and crashed through the dining room window and out into the wild. Sometime later, the death of that boy hit the papers and the one of the mother and daughter sent half the state into shock, I knew I had to do something. He turned eighteen years ago. Who knows how many people he’s killed since?”

            “And then you found out about me?” I concluded.

            “I asked around and through the local gun clubs, they gave the list of some names in Massachusetts of guys who specialize in wolves. The first two had only gone after deer and pheasants.”

            I sat up from the sofa and handed her the bloody sack. She was relieved to hear the knife had done me well, and I couldn’t thank her enough. I told her in some way, it saved my life. Just as I stepped out the door I handed her the cooler. I told her since she told me to not open the sack till I found the wolf, I told her not to open it until I had stepped in my truck. I filled up the second favor and gifted her with a piece of the wolf.

            I made my way out onto the driveway and I climbed inside into the seat. I turned on the ignition but rolled my window down. Suddenly I felt terrible. Her scream was so shrieking and frightful I was afraid she’d drop dead right at the sight of what was inside. The sound of her shrilling cry sent my entire body to shivers and I slid the gear in reverse.

With Rusty sitting next to me, I hauled the truck down the road and vowed never to return to the old lady’s house. Even in broad daylight it gave me the creeps.  I’m sure she expected a paw, or a tooth. I had given her the heart of her husband and I wasn't heading home the same way again. The drive was long, but I didn't care. I just wanted to get away…far, far away.

THE END