Since you don’t have a concealed carry permit, you will have to wear the holstered weapon OUTSIDE of any clothing so it’s not illegal, the pawn shop employee tells me in a thick southern accent. Although I too was raised in western North Carolina, my father trained himself not to have an accent after getting into real estate and dealing with rich out-of-state clients, and my mother is from Hunnington beach California, so I never really grew up with a southern twang like the vast majority of my friends. So, is it legal to jog the greenway park with this thing flashing on my hip, I asked the employee, replying to his prior statement. Well, you’ll most definitely get some sour or alarmed looks, maybe even a Karen or two giving you a “HOW DARE YOU” speech, but you just ignore em, there aren’t any signs prohibiting it, so your one-hundred-percent in your constitutional rights and there is nothing them or the corrupt boys in blue can do about it, he says to me more enthusiastically as he turns his hip and lightly taps the absolute cannon of a revolver he has displayed. The boyish grin leaves his face shortly after, now being replaced by a look of cautiously hidden fear, as he looks intensely in my eyes.
A young girl like you should find a nice safe gym to go jog in. The greenway isn’t always safe, especially for college students right now, he tells me with genuine concern in his now lowering voice. How do you know I’m a student and what are you implying by its dangerous “Right Now” I ask with subtle panic in my voice. I saw your college I.D. when you payed for the weapon, plus I had to run a mandated background check during the three-day waiting period for approval, he says matter of factly. I apologize to the man, letting him know that I’ve been a bit on edge and jumpy lately.
Listen, he says in an almost whisper, as he leans across the glass counter and looks around carefully for any ease-droppers, before he begins. Have you experienced anything weird out there, he asked? Have you noticed anyone following you, or just ANYTHING AT ALL that would be reason for concern, he concludes? Yes, I say without even thinking, um, I mean, it’s nothing, I’m probably just being paranoid. Is it like your being followed, or smell something foul at the same time all the forest critters go dead quiet, he asks even more hushed now? Yes, I answer in an alarmed whisper, have you experienced it too? What the Hell is up with that? The man paused for a long moment, seeming to have some sort of inner conflict, the kind of decisional turmoil someone has when their keeping a secret that morally tears them apart. The man stayed like this for a short time, before he finally exhaled loudly and looked into my eyes.
For the past six months, this township has found two dead college students killed by unidentified predators, YEAH, Missy Martin and James Caldwell, I say interrupting the man with the pre-existing knowledge. They found them up by Alberts Mountain, close to the abandoned fire watchtower, I think the paper said it was a bear attack or something. NO, the man yells before quickly composing himself and once again lowering his voice! He looks out the door to see if any customers are about to come in, before he continues. The bodies were found ripped to pieces just off the side trails of the greenway, they moved them to Alberts Mountain because it’s a posted Bear sanctuary and the town didn’t want to lose the presence of the tourist that pour into greenway park daily, not to mention the park boarders the brand new golf course, so they don’t want members going elsewhere, let alone lose more business the rich folks pristine country clubs up in Highlands. The man started rubbing his face in the palms of his hands while sighing, the kind of gesture someone does when they are extremely tired or stressed out, before letting go of his head and staring downward, like he was almost ashamed of something.
I was there you see; he began. They sought out volunteers…locals to help move the evidence and not ask too many questions. The town even “donated” money to my shop, I guess so I would keep my mouth shut, and I intended to, told myself that it was the right thing to do, how we would all catch the beast responsible and keep money flowing into the town with our silence, so we could all take care of our families. It’s funny, the things you can compromise to with a good enough excuse, how you can convince yourself that you’re doing the right thing in the end, the man said shaking his head, still not able to re-establish eye contact with me. Here we are though, no creature or predator caught in over six months, no leads and now YOU, are coming in here like THIS…can’t avoid it now, no room for compromise left in my soul, just what needs to be done…what I should have done all along. I can’t have yours or anyone else’s blood on my hands again.
Locals know something is fishy anyway, I mean yeah, sure Alberts Mountain is a black bear sanctuary, but in all my fifty-eight years not ONE person has been attacked up there, and now two kids in three months, I don’t think so. People just don’t want to think about the implications of all this, so they pretend it’s alright, because the second they question it fully, is the second things become real, and my dear, ignorance sometimes truly is bliss.
Wait right here, he says before walking into the backrooms of the store, where they keep pawned and private goods. After about three or four minutes of hearing loud shuffling sounds and the tinkling of metal, the man reappeared holding a bulky, yet compact, revolver and a Walmart grocery bag full of small heavy boxes. That nine-millimeter Beretta is a very good weapon, hell, it’s what our military uses, but it’s not quite enough for bears, let alone anything bigger or potentially more dangerous, the man says. This here, is a 357. Snub nose and packs a far greater punch than the Beretta, plus I replaced the standard rounds you wanted with high grain instead, giving it more destructive power. I can’t afford to, but the man cuts me off with a wave of his hand and a half-smile. It’s on the house, he says while handing everything to me.
One more thing, he says to me before I can even properly thank him. Here, he states, as he puts a revolver auto-loader down on the counter, already loaded with shiny chrome looking bullets. I had a few of these babies’ custom made for me by a friend after the first cover-up, even then we knew something wasn’t right. The teeth and claw marks didn’t make any logical sense, I mean they were canine, we knew that much, but the size and specific shape was…impossible! The only scientific explanation was some kind of mutated Dire wolf that managed to stay hidden throughout the ages or…an ACTUAL fucking cryptid! Although this idea was met with mockery when I brought it up, there was no denying something unknown and extremely lethal was killing people without leaving a trace of evidence, RIGHT smack in the middle of the local park. My friend, who also helped volunteer that day, didn’t fully believe me, but couldn’t fully deny it either, so he made up these special rounds in case the impossible was, well…possible. There silver tipped, he says, answering the look of growing confusion displayed upon my face. I don’t know what the hell is out there, but just maybe these will help, he says before wishing me luck as I exit the shop.
As I glance back into the stores window before getting in my car, I can see the man praying now with his head bowed, closed eyes directed downward at tightly clasped hands, as he nervously mutters something I cannot hear. What the fuck is going on in this town, I say to myself as I turn the ignition and start backing up, reluctantly trying to focus on my biology class in twenty minutes, instead of the impossible wilderness horror, that is slowly encroaching upon my life.
My doubts towards the man’s story, or more specifically my doubts that he is just fucking with me, are snuffed out like water on a blazing campfire, as I look up the value of what he just GAVE to me! Easily over one-thousand dollars for the weapon and ammunition, not to mention the sterling silver bullets and auto-loader. Whatever the truth is, he completely believes what he said, making me acknowledge it as fact even more than I already had. None of this can ACTUALLY be true though, I mean this isn’t a story, this is real life, where the only demons are depraved and diabolical humans, or maybe even large corporations that have corrupted the nation until we were dubbed “Corporate America “…but not literal monsters of fang and claw. Is this some sort of elaborately un-tasteful pre-Halloween prank? I mean, it IS the month of October, but this town is more of a “We tolerate Halloween” rather than actively promoting it, let alone embracing the holiday to the point of the residents acting out a collaborate unified plot, that borders on sheer cruelty. Either way, it’s becoming evident, that something is most definitely very wrong!
Things are not progressing as they should, not following the natural order of events dictated by my premonition…which is unheard of for me. Instead of the dream following the pre-determined natural sequent of events, like a concrete unwavering order form the universe, its playing out more like a suggestion, that can now be influenced by unknown elements outside the realm of my control, even act independently, despite the shackles of pre-determined fate. There remains no doubt in my mind that she is VERY special, if she was born across The Veil, she would most likely be a powerful force to be reckoned with by now. Her latent psychic potential has ACTUALLY allowed her to alter the pre-existing timeline and therefore mold the natural course of events, of reality herself, to her will. I doubt she even realizes that she is doing so, with her subconscious mind’s primal defense mechanism tapping into her latent, yet powerful potential. I’m going to have to watch her every second now, to ensure she doesn’t accidentally draw in other forces to foolishly come to her aid. They will all just get in the way, they won’t understand what TRULY is happening, they can’t comprehend the implications of my mere presence here, let alone the universal need and overwhelming desire to hunt my prey, to end their foul and corruptive existence from the earth forever!
As I watched the beginning of the rising sun, with futile effort, try and cut through the early morning fog like a spot-light in a hurricane, I stared curiously at myself in the mirror, hardly recognizing the battle maiden that gazed back into my emerald, green eyes. I couldn’t get back to sleep after a nightmare had woken me up at 3:33am, a vision of a pale humanoid Hellhound of impossibly tall height, and a handsome man with one blue eye and the other, a glowing intense shade of yellow. So, capitalizing on my coursing adrenaline, I went ahead and did my morning push-ups and pull-ups, before donning the tactical gear I bought from the army surplus store the day after I visited the local pawnshop…I still can’t get that employees face out of my mind. With the nine-millimeter strapped to my right hip, the three-fifty-seven holstered under my left armpit, tactical combat knives fastened on my left chest and right boot, mace in my cargo pocket and a Bear Grills Perang machete on my back, I look like I’m about to go jogging through Hell itself.
I know there is something unholy and hungry awaiting me on my run this morning, something that has already killed at least two people and has methodically been stalking me for over a week. So why go at all, you may be asking yourself, and it’s a very good question? KA, as Roland The Gunslinger from The Dark Tower Series would say, which loosely translates to destiny. All I know for certain is that I’m supposed to go out there this morning. An undeniable and powerful force has been pushing and steering me ever since I first became aware of the anomaly within Greenway Park, and although it strongly warns me of danger, it even more tenaciously alerts my soul to something else, something FAR greater and more deeply interwoven within my own personal fate.
I have never felt anything like the aura of otherworldly power that has been slowly growing inside of me, ebbing and flowing with profound charged energy, like a super-cell storm, trying desperately to break free of its nimbostratus prison. I felt the manic balance of fear and excitement as I walked slowly to my front door, both preparing myself and embracing the feeling, as I marched towards war, and all the glory and horror that come with it. I felt powerful, alive and supremely driven in a way I never had before, like I had been living a half-life of quiet desperation, to then be awoken by the universe itself, so it could reveal to me, my true identity. That’s what it felt like you see, like the old Jenn had ceased to exist, had burnt to ash within the asylum of her own problems and hateful turmoil, for a phoenix to then rise in her place…like becoming the paragon of what you are, or ever could be.
All I know for certain is that something powerful cries out to me specifically with esoteric purpose, and I intend to answer that clarion call…I will go on this hunt.
Cover your weapons, as to not alert it to your potential, I heard a voice say, as it eased its way into my mind, like a suggestive thought that gained more life and awareness with its every word. The voice was right, my chances of success will increase the more vulnerable I initially appear.
I grabbed a dark green hooded raincoat from my closet, one that went down past my knees so it would fully cover my weapons, and then downloaded a specific Rife frequency to my phone. You see, ever since I had developed the psychic inclination that my foe was inherently canine, I thought to capitalize on a potential weakness. When I first started college, the stress and anxiety well…blocked me up. After chugging a double dose of MiraLAX, I stumbled upon the Rife frequency for constipation and thought to give it a try. The sound was annoyingly invasive to say the very least, like a digitalized version of nails scraping on a chalkboard! If you don’t know what I’m referring to, go ahead and take a moment to search it on YouTube…I’ll wait. Now, did that horrible sound actually help my condition, well, I don’t know, because I couldn’t even listen to the noise long enough to find out. My point being, if this is the most annoying sound that I have personally heard, then a creature with hyper-sensitive hearing should be affected by it on a far greater level. I turned the lock screen off my cell phone to have the frequency ready at a moment’s notice and started off on this odyssey in a slow jog.
As my steadily advancing form cut through the exceptionally thick fog like a small plane parting the clouds, the voice in my head spoke again, warning me of impending danger as the hairs on the back of my neck stood up with a noticeable electric charge. It sees you now little one, be careful, the voice said as I forced myself not to look around nervously, not wanting the entity to know that I was already aware of its presence.
After half-a-mile of jogging at a slow but steady pace, the first tell-tale sign of trouble wafted its way into my nose with its sickly-sweet rot, forcing me to breathe through my mouth to avoid the repugnant scent. As I began closing in on the one-mile mark of my run, the voice spoke once again, louder and more grounded within my conscious mind now, making my spine tingle with the very presence of its words. When you reach the throne, it will make its move, the voice warned me, referring to the tree stump that someone had carved into a rudimentary child sized throne, that sat next to a bench facing the river. The forementioned landmark was only about four-hundred yards away, making me slow my pace and gently touch the pistol holstered on my right hip, underneath the green raincoat. I began to slowly trace my fingers across the gun’s barrel so my reflexes would be ready to act at a moment’s notice…it was time.
She is more aware of the reality of what lurks within these woods than I even imagined, has she become mindful of MY true nature as well? I doubt it, for whatever I am, both angel and demon alike have considerable vexation when attempting to locate or control me, a trait that has proved to be very useful in retaining my privacy and clandestine lifestyle. I watch her close in on the one-mile marker of her run with a nervous concern, as I circle my fingers around the silver amulet, knowing that her potent psychic abilities have turned this flawless premonition, into a haphazard free-for-all, affecting everyone and everything now involved.
A familiar yet alarming scent forces me to release my amulet, and to begin scanning the immediate area with my heightened senses. NO, not now, I think to myself, as a man in his late fifties clad in full tactical gear begins to inch out of the forest with what appeared to be some kind of automatic rifle, parallel to the girl’s position. It’s the pawn shop employee! With chaos mere moments away from unfolding everywhere, I simply do not have the time or focus to try and read the mans present intentions. All I know is that he is here to kill, rather it be the girl or…its too late, she is about to reach small throne looking tree stump, I HAVE to act now!
As I approach the wooden stump, I undo my raincoat just enough to allow access to my weapons without visibly revealing them and put on a show of mock confusion for my stalking spectator. I need not PRETEND to be afraid though, for that emotion swims through my veins vigorously, making my blood pump hard with its authenticity. I hear something large land about thirty feet behind me, making a pronounced yet muffled thud as it hit the asphalted section of the greenway, like an experienced predatorial cat leaping from a great height. Not yet little one, the voice instructs me, it’s not aware of your tactics, be patient…be brave.
I steel my nerves and quiet my mind before I reluctantly turn around to face my pursuer, confident that my rapidly growing psychic inclinations towards combat and the paranormal, would harden my resolve upon first seeing the creature. However, NOTHING could have prepared my fleeting sanity for the ungodly and impossible image that now stood before me. It was SO MUCH worse than any nightmarish imagining that my sheltered human mind could ever have conjured.
At first, I just saw a whitish-grey fleshy mound hunched over and staring at me with two enormous burnt, orange-colored eyes, with the mist so prominent that its full visage was still mostly concealed. Although I had somewhat tamed my frayed nerves, the loud cacophonous sound of snapping and reforming bone, muscle and tendon made me jump back, as the creature began rising to its feet, its eyes now blazing with unnatural life, like two flaming jack-o-lanterns! It must have reached nine feet tall by the time the monster’s spine finally stopped cracking, with it now standing fully bipedal, as it began showing me dirty white fangs, within its sinister grin.
A tall dogman of unthinkable design stood before me now, completely hairless with greyish white skin and ears standing straight up, comparative somewhere between a German Shepard and a bat.
Lure it in, and then feed it silver, the voice calmly instructed me…and I listened.
Following the instructions given, I began to beg and plead whilst cowering my body into the lowest possible position, all but prostrating myself to the advancing creature. The more frightened I appeared, the more I could somehow SENSE the monster’s annoyance at me, for it wanted to hunt, not be fed. Its grin turned into a scowl as it closed the final distance between us…and I was ready.
NO, PLEASE NO, I whimpered as it finally approached me, and then did something I was NOT fully expecting…it spoke! You disappoint me Jennifer, I thought you would be more fun, I thought you would be more of a, FUCK YOU, I said interrupting whatever bullshit monologue it was saying, as I drew my .357 and unloaded everything, point blank, directly into the canine abomination. Three of my silver bullets found their mark, piercing his right chest, left shoulder and grazing his head while taking an over-sized ear clean off.
The Dogman tried jumping into a nearby tree, before the sizzling and smoking flesh around the bullets entry wounds forced him to lock-up and fall to the ground, where he writhed around briefly, before quickly getting up and composing himself. I foolishly used up all six of my silver bullets with my first initial attack on the beast, hoping beyond hope, that my surprising onslaught would finish the job early. I could see the smoke that churned out of its bullet wounds start to die down, making me realize in regretful horror, that I missed EVERY vital organ, effectively wounding, but mostly just pissing the nine-foot monstrosity off! With now trembling hands, I attempted to draw the nine-millimeter out from under my left arm, where it remained holstered, just to have my uneasy grip drop it to the asphault with a mettalic clank, before I could even THINK about aiming it! As the creature lowered itself to pounce on me, its abdomen was hit with two shots in quick succesion, forcing it to leap an extraordinary distance into the river, where it went still and silent after the first splash.
Are you okay, a man said as he appeared from behind a large Oak tree, clutching a similar revolver to mine in his grip, just with far more tactical attachments customized into the guns frame.
It was the fucking guy from the pawn shop!
HELL NO, I’m about as far from being okay as someone could possibly get, I remarked, as the man ran over to the riverbank to check on the creature’s status. Dammit, I can’t see shit, he said gazing intensely into the mist covered water. His skin is the same color as the fog, so it’s impossible to, but the man was cut-off as a rock exploded on the side of his head and would have probably killed him if he wasn’t wearing an old-school camouflaged combat helmet, the kind of battle attire that would look right at home in the movie Full Metal Jacket. The blow still almost knocked him unconscious as he fell to the ground, clenching the left side of his face where blood was slowly beginning to trickle out.
I sprinted for the pistol I dropped, just for the creature to then cut me off, landing in front of the gun I was running for with alarming speed, causing me to fall backwards on my ass unceremoniously. However, as my palms hit the ground to steady my descent, my right hand landed on my cellphone, where I wasted no time in hitting play on the frequency I downloaded. As the creature moved on me, moderately staggering now due to the damage it just took, the Rife frequency started blasting through the calm morning atmosphere like an air-raid siren. I threw the phone in the opposing direction of the pistol I dropped, desperately hoping to increase my chances of making it to the cellular device while avoiding the monsters elongated reach and razor claws. As the beast grabbed its head, letting out a high-pitched howl that hurt my eardrums, I tried running around him in a wide arc, hoping to safely circle around to my fallen pistol. Unfortunately, about halfway through my improvised plan, the Dogman reached the phone and smashed it into plastic and metal debree with one large stomp.
I know some of you may be asking, why even throw the phone and not just hold it to your person? Well, in the almost three seconds I had to contemplate this decision, I kept having a vision of it just following the noise all the way to its source and dispatching me rather easily…so I made a choice.
Once the sound dissipated into the ether, the creature instantly locked its burnt orange eyes onto my emerald, green iris’, with its mannerism’s now devolving from patient predator to rabid killer. As the beast began its frenetic charge towards me, its body was riddled with automatic fire, forcing it to halt its advance and take notice of its attacker.
RUN, the man shouted, as he emptied his magazine and then pulled a pistol-gripped twelve-gauge from behind his back, peppering the creature with buckshot before it closed the distance on him. The monster was substantially wounded now, with the previous silver still boring smoking holes in its flesh and moving dark lines tracing up its veins, like it was being hurt far greater on an internal level.
Instead of killing the man directly, it grabbed him and jumped into the water, and then up the opposing side of the riverbank, where it carried him off into the woods, as they both disappeared into the depths of the misty forest. The second I thought it was potentially over, was the second I heard the man scream, followed by the atrocious sounds of something being eaten alive…like wet fabric tearing around breaking twigs.
I wasted no time in picking up my fumbled pistol, and as I frantically scanned the immediate area, I saw something chrome and shiny glinting through the pervasive fog about one-hundred feet away. It was the mans revolver, and if I recalled correctly, there should still be at least three shots left in the cylinder…three SILVER shots.
I made it all of ten feet before the creature landed on the weapon, seemingly out of nowhere. As fresh crimson blood slid down its lower jaw, the monster’s wounds began to heal, even the ones caused by the silver, although not as quickly. Before I could let myself hesitate, I emptied all fifteen nine-millimeter rounds into the tall Dogman, with almost every bullet meeting pale flesh. The creature acted more annoyed at the folly of miniscule projectiles than hurt, and with a dry click of my empty pistol, I pulled the Perang machete out with my right hand and bear mace with my left, letting the spent handgun fall meaninglessly to the ground.
PLEASE, I pleaded to the voice, don’t leave me alone now dammit, don’t let it end like this! Oh, you are not alone little one, not at all, the voice answered in a confident manner that sounded as if it knew something I did not.