Part 2
Part 1: (https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/197npng/the_things_in_the_woods_part_1/)
The memory of Charlie’s disappearance lingered like a dark cloud over my life. Despite extensive search efforts, Charlie was never found. Not even a trace according to his father. The authorities speculated about wild animals or a tragic accident, but Marcus and I knew the truth. We knew what happened that night. We knew something had taken our friend, had dragged him off into the night, and done god knows what to him. I guess that was the one blessing of this whole thing, that out of everyone at least one person, Marcus, believed my story.
I was nervous to tell anyone about what had happened, and at first I said nothing but eventually he was the one I told. We’d been out searching when I recalled the story to which he then demanded I tell everyone, but unfortunately, the adults weren’t as quick to believe as my friend. Some of them never did, actually, none of them ever did.
Marcus and I grew distant, our friendship strained by grief and guilt. After we finally stopped searching we stopped seeing each other together, and as time passed his belief in my story faltered and eventually faded. He started to tell kids at school the tale, and any sense of community with my classmates was shattered. I was turned into an outcast by one of my very best friends.
For me, the trauma of that night manifested in relentless nightmares. Whenever I closed my eyes, I was haunted by the image of that long, hairy arm reaching into our tent, pulling Charlie away into the unknown darkness. Some nights I’d just see his horrified face staring at me, pleading for me to help him, but I never would, I never could. I couldn’t shake the feeling of helplessness, the suffocating dread that consumed me as I listened to the sounds of his abduction. I don’t think that night ever left me, and I don’t think it ever will.
Depression became my constant companion, a shadow that followed me wherever I went. I withdrew from my friends and family (the ones who hadn’t already abandoned me), retreating into myself as I struggled to understand what happened. The world seemed colder and darker as if the light had been extinguished when Charlie vanished. Nothing seemed to matter besides what had happened. Solving the mystery seemed to become an obsession, as I spent sleepless nights replaying the events of that night over and over in my mind, searching for some semblance of closure or understanding. But the truth remained elusive, buried beneath layers of fear and uncertainty.
I never gave up though, no matter how many people told me I was wrong or that I hadn’t seen it right I didn’t care I knew what I saw. I knew something had taken my friend. My investigations eventually led to me pursuing journalism in High School, but it didn’t take me long at all to realize that career path wasn’t suitable for my aspirations. Journalism was grounded in reality, and what I was after was supposedly nothing more than pure fiction. So I got into the private sector and eventually joined a small news site type thing for the paranormal and the strange.
Finally, I would be allowed to pursue and write about the very things that I wanted to. Due to living in the Pacific Northwest, I focused primarily on sasquatch although some other cryptids, myths, and other oddities slipped through the cracks.
I’d been working on a report about a rash of crawler sightings in British Columbia when I first came across the headline during my online research: THREE TEENS STILL MISSING, FRIEND CLAIMS IT WAS BIGFOOT. This was the first time I’d come across a report where the cryptid was actually involved in some sort of official investigation. I was so set on investigating it that I didn’t even care that I’d have to drive all the way up to Alaska.
-
Amidst the dense canopy of an ancient forest of towering trees, my old Ford truck rumbled along. It was an old lumber road I had to use, and it sure felt like one. The road was narrow and neglected long since past its prime. I had to drive slowly to not send us careening into one of the massive pine trees.
The engine spurted and growled in a vain attempt to get me to stop. The truck shuddered and shook with every bump in the road momentarily lifting me from my seat, but nevertheless, I continued, this was normal. My calloused hands gripped tightly to the steering wheel as I peered through the dusty windshield at the trees that loomed to either side of me casting eerie shadows over the dilapidated road.
As the truck lumbered forward, hissing in ever-persistent protest, I looked at the ominous clouds in the sky. They were dark and I could occasionally hear or feel their distant rumbles. I knew there was a storm to come, which only made me want to get to my destination faster. A loud thunderclap echoed through the valley and sent chills through my bones. I had to hurry.
Despite the worsening weather and the deteriorated old road, I continued more persistently than before. With every bend in the windy road, the truck lurched and swerved to either side, as if fighting some invisible force that wanted to sway me off course.
My knuckles whitened as I gripped the steering wheel tighter, my muscles tensing and my heart racing at every inevitable swerve of my truck. I cursed under my breath, my frustration with this situation growing with every second, but with that frustration, I felt the unease growing. Yet, my determination steered me forward, a stubborn refusal to surrender despite the ominous atmosphere this imaginary force was manifesting.
As my journey continued it grew darker and the forest felt like it was closing in around me. The trees seemed to creep closer and closer to the edge of the road as if all of them were cooperating to stop me. The air grew thick with tension, and paranoia began to grow in my mind.
A loud thunderclap vibrated my truck momentarily making me freeze with fear. The truck let out another growl of protest, and if I could I felt the truck would just pull over and not let me continue but I did.
The rain started coming down all at once. The droplets come down in a cascade making a cacophony of noise that quickly fades into a steady rhythm. Each droplet drummed on the thin metal roof of the truck with varying intensity. Normally the cadence of the rain would have been gentle and tranquil, but in this circumstance it was horrifying.
Within only minutes the rough dirt road felt more like a slip-and-slide than a road. The sound of the tires on the dirt now sounded closer to a mixer churning butter. I began to panic, worrying the truck would get stuck, and I wouldn’t make it but it didn’t. The ole’ trooper continued forward his growls hardly audible above the sound of pouring rain.
Not too much further down the road, I reached the turn-off onto the paved road. Relieved I turned off and began making my way down the road. I told myself I wouldn’t take another shortcut like that, but I knew that was a lie. This road was still windy but not nearly as bad as the dirt road. Eventually, the road led into the town I was looking for: Coltsdale.
Coltsdale was a very old town settled deep in the Alaskan Rockies. It was originally a mining and lumber town but had now become a tourist destination due to the nearby national forests.
As I drove through I saw many old west-style buildings that looked ancient and smirked. I’d been to a town like this before and I knew their scam. Despite their claims none of these buildings were original. They were all fake timber facades built to mask the modern design of the buildings. It’s pretty easy to spot when you’re looking for it but to the untrained eye not so much.
Signs for motels, shops, and restaurants passed by until I pulled in front of the town diner. Macie’s Diner it read in big light-up neon signage. It was quite odd to see the retro sign on a building that otherwise looked over a hundred years old. The façade was your typical old rural western building, although with much larger windows.
The parking lot was full of mostly old cars from the 80s, which was odd to me, combined with the sign it almost felt like I’d time-traveled. It was also odd because my old 1980 Ford F150 always felt out of place, but here in this old town it felt right at home. I pulled up the hood of my poncho before stepping out and pulling my satchel out with me.
I hurried across the parking lot trying to get as little rain on my pants and satchel as possible. I was in such a hurry I didn’t even look inside until I was drying my shoes on the mat. That’s when I noticed the floor was alternating black and white tiles. I looked up and it hit me all at once. The bright colors and strange retro vibes. The interior of the diner was built like one you’d see in the 80s, and suddenly the sign fit in a lot better now. That’s when I noticed the music, it was a song by Michael Jackson, I’m not sure what song but I recognized his voice clear as day.
The diner was a mix of what seemed to be tourists and locals and was actually quite busy considering the size of the town.
“Hullo, what can I do for you?” A young woman asked in an accent I couldn’t quite catch.
I looked around only to see a smiling young woman right next to me. She looked to be around 18 to 20, and she was wearing the typical outfit you’d see a waitress in the 80s wearing although instead of a skirt she wore slacks. Other than that she had long wavy red hair, bright green eyes, and a cute freckled face.
“Uh, hi,” I said awkwardly, “I just need a booth, I’m meeting someone here.”
She nodded and smiled at me, “Aye, right this way.” As soon as she said “Aye” I realized that she spoke with a Scottish accent.
You know I didn’t think about this before, but her voice was kind of paradoxical. The Scottish accent always comes from a strong-voiced male, so we prescribe it as a strong manly accent. That’s why it was so odd for me to hear it coming from this soft-spoken girl.
She led me to an empty booth against the front window. I sat down on one side of the booth throwing my satchel into the other seat and opening it. I pulled out my journal and tape recorder setting it in front of me.
Then I noticed she was still standing there: “You want anything to start with?” She asked.
“Uh…” I stammered awkwardly quickly scanning across the menu, “A ginger ale with a burger, no lettuce, no tomatoes, nothing but meat and cheese.” I explained.
She nodded before hurrying off to another table.
-
I sat there for a good long while. I’d been entertaining myself by looking at the missing posters on the nearby bulletin board to see if I recognized any of the faces. Needless to say, I didn’t recognize any of them.
Somehow I’d engaged myself so much I didn’t notice when the person I came here to see slipped into the booth across from me.
“Hi Detective,” Will said, his voice somber and weak.
I looked over to see Will Gardner. Will Gardner was 15, with long shaggy blonde hair, dark brown eyes, and freckles everywhere. From all reports, he was a very happy kid, but the impression the boy was giving off was far- far from happy. He had bags under his eyes, he looked dirty and unkempt, and I couldn’t blame him. After what had happened to him, what I was here to talk with him about, frankly I was surprised he agreed to meet at all.
“Hello Will, how are you?” I asked, hoping my genuine concern showed through.
“Like shit,” He mumbled weakly.
I paused unsure what to say, I was the youngest of six, and I’d never been good with kids partly because I’d never had the experience.
“I’m- I’m sorry for your loss,” I muttered, knowing in my head that probably did nothing, and was probably a shit response.
“So you want to know what happened?” He asked coldly.
I was surprised that he’d been the one to bring it up first, “Yes- yes I’d like to.”
“Welp, what’s another person that doesn’t believe me,” He joked, although it was more to himself than me.
“I can assure you…” I started before I was cut off, “Eh, I’ve heard that response before, you probably won’t believe me, but frankly I don’t care I am telling it how I saw it.” He said.
“I know you won’t believe me, but I believe you,” I said, hoping my truth showed through.
He nodded, I clicked on the tape recorder, and he began his tale.
“We all went up to Coltsdale forest, it was me, Matt, Ava, and Kelly, Kelly was my girlfriend. We- we were just going go up, make a bonfire, and drink some of the beers Matt stole, but that’s obviously not how it went.” He said, his face grim, his eyes dark and wet.
“We were all sitting around the bonfire, we were having a great time. Matthew was telling one of his great campfire stories. I can’t remember what it was- but like all of his stories, it was a great one.” A chill ran down my spine, and for a moment I flashed back a decade, and that face, Charlie’s face was staring at me again. I still remembered that amazing story he’d told that night. I shook that away and continued to listen.
“The story had the girls all shaken up, and I had to comfort Kelly. That’s when Bluebell, Matt’s dog, let out a bark. Man, I’ve never heard a dog bark like that. It sounded scared, but offensive, as if she was telling whatever she was telling to get away. The closest thing I can compare it to is the yell my dad made when a grown man cat-called at my older sister in a mall once. A mix of anger, disgust, and fear.” He explained, a disgusted look on his face when he talked about the man and his sister.
“Matt turned, got up, and looked into the dark treeline where Bluebell was looking. I thought it was odd because she was looking up, like way up, like whatever it was had to be in the canopy. Now I know dogs can just be weird sometimes, but I don’t know what the hell lives up in the canopy that could piss off a dog like that. Now I know black bears can climb trees, but you don’t see black bears much around here. I think- it’s cause we’re so close to the ocean. Only brown bears in this area.” He explained, and I was a little impressed at his know-how.
“Bluebell barked, then kicked up dirt with her back leg. I think we all thought she was about to run because we all flinched then Matt grabbed her collar. She let out another loud “get the hell away” bark. This one was so loud it kinda dazed Matt, and he reached up with his free hand to rub his ear. Even my ears were ringing so I wasn’t surprised, I was just worried about what the hell the dog was barking at.” He said, the confusion and fascination showing through the grimness in his voice.
“That’s when I heard something, I think we all heard it. It was this strange sound- I’ve- I’ve never heard anything like it- I’ll try my best to describe it to you, but I don’t think I’ll be doing the sound much justice. It’s something you had to have heard for it to have its impact. It sounded kinda like a coyote, or like I always imagined a hyena to sound, but not quite. It had a similar sound to laughter, but the low parts of the call were too low for a hyena and the high parts of the call sounded too high. In a way, the call reminded me of a bird, or at least the high parts did. The way I best describe it is this droning animalistic laughter with low-low growls in between. But even though I describe it as laughter it didn’t sound like laughter. It was more structured like laughter. I- I don’t know how to explain it.” He said, the confusion clear in his voice.
“That’s ok, you tried your best,” I said, in my mind, I focused on the word droning. Droning in my head was the only way I could describe the way the call that night so long ago just kept going and going.
“The “laughing” just kept going, there wasn’t like a pause, at least not for a while.” He said, “We were all just frozen with fear, unsure what to do. I think- I think most animal calls only last a couple seconds?” He said, although his tone made it sound like a question.
“Yeah most of them are pretty short,” I said affirming his conclusion.
“Right, well, I think this one- I think it lasted twenty, thirty, maybe forty seconds!” He said, “And that whole time we were all as still as statues, so scared we couldn’t do nothing. Then Kelly said we needed to run, we needed to get out of here, and Ava said something similar, but Matt was still over by Bluebell shaking as he stared into the treetops.”
“That’s when Bluebell barked again, and then again, she started going off like a madhouse and yanking at Matt and her collar. Matt was about to wrap his arms around her and pick her up when SNAP! Bluebell sprinted off into the forest, and before I could say anything he followed.” His face turned grim, and for a moment he said nothing. I was about to tell him he could take a break if he needed to, but he continued, “Ava started screaming for Matt, but all we heard was panicked yells for Bluebell and her barks. The barks didn’t seem to grow further, and I thought I could hear her claws scratching at tree bark. Then a new sound, or rather a lack of one. The calls stopped and were replaced by an ominous and oppressive silence. Even Bluebell had stopped barking.”
He paused to order a root beer and a large fry. I asked him if he wanted a burger but he said no. After the waitress came back with his order he continued, “I thought- I thought I could hear something moving through the trees, but I don’t know for sure.”
He paused eating a few fries before he spoke up again, “We were all so worried that Ava finally spoke up. She screamed Matt’s name a few times, he responded and we realized he wasn’t that far away. I reached down for the flashlight and aimed it into the woods. It showed Matt standing at the foot of a tree looking down at the now silent and cowering Bluebell. He was clearly confused about the situation, we all were, but we were more so scared than he was.”
He paused again, I could tell just the retelling was getting to him. I didn’t judge I was getting goosebumps just hearing the story partially because I already knew the ending. He ate a few fries and took a long slurp before he spoke, “You ever have recurring nightmares detective?”
“Yes,” I said slowly, wondering the possible lines of thought he could be going down.
“What happened next, it- it- I’ve never- every night since it happened I’ve had a nightmare about this moment.” His eyes teared up, “The moment when something appeared at the top of the circle of light above Matt. At first, I just thought it was a weirdly shaped branch, but then it moved. I know this is weird, but it moved like a snake. It was this big long hairy arm, but- but it moved like a snake. It slowly reached downward toward him, and as it did I saw more and more of its arm. One feet, two feet, three feet, and then four.” He paused taking a long slurp the sorrow in his expression, “It- It grabbed his hair. Now I know you’re gonna say I should have yelled, but from the moment I saw it, to the moment it grabbed him was probably only five seconds.”
“After it grabbed him by the hair he started screaming, and Bluebell started going off again. I didn’t see what happened next cause I dropped the flashlight. It broke on the hard forest floor. The girls both started screaming their heads off, Matt was screaming, and Bluebell was barking like a damn hellhound. Two things happened quickly. A loud crack silenced Bluebell, and Matt went quiet.”
Tears rolled down Will’s cheeks and he requested a break. During that, I added questions for later to my notes.
After a few minutes, he continued seemingly having gathered his composure, “I just- I just panicked, and grabbed Kelly’s hand and just started booking it. We ran through the forest as hard as we could, eventually, Kelly got ahead of me, but I didn’t mind to me it meant she was safer than I was. Then I- then I tripped. I don’t know what happened next, because I blacked out. I woke up the next morning, I had what felt like a broken ankle and a horrible gash on my head, but I made my way down the trail only to find that the car was still there.”
He gave me a nod, and I understood that he’d finished his story.
“So, you can take a break if need be, but I have some questions for you when you’re ready,” I said, looking down at my notes and the inquiries listed within them.
“I’m ready, no use waiting,” he mumbled.
“Oh- ok then,” I said a little taken aback by his forwardness about it, “Did you hear anything when Bluebell first started barking? Or any other weird sounds at all that night, or in those woods in general?”
“Um… I… I don’t think so… The only other thing that was odd was at some point that night the crickets and owls went silent,” He explained.
“Interesting,” I said, jotting it down, “Do you have a guess when?”
“Uh- no, it was some point after we got there, but before Bluebell started barking.”
“Ok, next question then, you mentioned you thinking it wasn’t a black bear or brown bear. What animal do you think could’ve done this?”
“An Ape,” He answered simply and matter-of-factly.
“Why do you suspect an ape?” I asked, having come to a similar conclusion but curious to see how he got his.
“Well, for one I saw that arm, and well I think that’s the only thing that could’ve made those sounds.” He explained, and I shivered at the mention of the arm, remembering the arm that haunted my nightmares.
“Speaking of the sounds, can you better explain them? Also, you described the sounds as hyena or bird-like, how do you think an ape could’ve made them?” I asked, once again very curious to hear his answer.
“Well, um…” He stammered, clearly thinking very hard about it, “It’s like they had the rhythm of a laugh, kind of like how Hyena calls have the rhythm of a laugh, but when you really listen they don’t sound like a laugh. Then the call had really high shrill parts to the laugh that almost sounded like a bird, but it also had really low growling-like sounds in between them. And well I don’t know if you’ve listened to many ape or monkey calls, but they seem like some of the only animals that can have that much variation.”
I nodded then asked, “Can you elaborate on the growls?”
“Uh- yeah, they kinda sounded like- well it’s hard to explain. I’ve listened to a lot of animal calls since that night, and oddly the growl sounds like the mix between a purr, like a tiger purr, and the cough of a smoker. I know that’s a weird combination, but in my head that’s the only way you can describe them.”
“Ok,” I said drawn out like I was trying to Frankenstein together the sounds he was describing in my head, but I just couldn’t seem to comprehend them.
I shook my head noting down the description before continuing with the next question, “You said the arm moved like a snake, what do you mean by that?”
“Well, I guess it didn’t move like a snake necessarily. It’s just that’s what I thought of. The way it slowly lowered, slowly reaching lower and lower, it was eerie and the first thing I thought of was a snake.” His face was scrunched up, like describing all of these things was hurting his brain in some strange way.
“What did the arm look like, and did you only see the arm?” I asked.
He responded instantly to this question: “That was one of the most uncomfortable things about it. I only saw the arm, no shoulder, no legs clinging to the tree side, just the long creeping arm. And as for appearance, it- it had dark- dark skin which looked to be mostly covered in dark brown or black fur. And the fur- it looked greasy.”
I took note of it.
“Ok, final question, has anyone had any similar strange experiences in the woods? Or has anything happened before or since that you find relevant?” I asked, pausing between each question to let him take them in.
Will thought for a long moment seemingly taking a great amount of time to comprehend the question, as if he was scraping the very back of his mind for a long-lost memory. Then at last the boy spoke, “I think there might be something related- a couple months before-” He paused taking a long heavy breath, “a couple months before my friends- before the thing happened, another kid disappeared. I- I think his name was Pike, yeah- Pike McNairy.”
I nodded noting down the name, “What makes you think Pike is related?”
“Well, he disappeared in the forest, just like my friends there was never any sign of him,” Will said grimly.
Will told me how to contact Pike’s father then thanked me for the food and drink before leaving. I found myself staring out the window. It had grown later, and darker, yet the rain still poured down as hard as ever. I imagined if my car had gotten stuck in that treacherous storm. I’d be out there in the dark forest, rain pouring around me, and that thing- the image of the hand popped into my head, and in fearful reaction, I slammed my fist into the table. A few people looked over with confused glances, before rejoining their lively conversations. I turned back toward the window. Trying to push the thoughts about the case that were creeping into my head.
As I stared out I watched the small figure of Will make his way across the parking lot, over to the sidewalk, and begin walking down the street. I felt angry I hadn’t offered him a ride home, but I guess I’d just assumed he had one.
“Um… sir,” the waitress said.
I turned around toward her, and she gave me an awkward grin, “I’m sorry to say, but if you’re not going to order anything else my boss wants you to leave.” She motioned with her head to an angry-looking man behind the counter wearing a striped shirt.
“Oh, um- in that case, I’ll get a slice of pumpkin pie,” I said flashing her a smile.
She smiled back, seemingly jotting the order down, “I’ll be back with your order shortly.” She said, before turning on her heel and walking away briskly.
In the meantime, I pulled out my laptop and started compiling my notes and the recorded interview into the post you are reading now. As I did, as I relistened to that interview the thoughts crept back into my mind, and before I could stop them they’d manifested into a single phrase: “They’re so similar aren’t they.” Uncontrollably, obsessively my brain almost subconsciously scanned through the details of both cases. The arm, the call, they- it had to be the same creature. It had to be. I had to find out.
“Your pie, sir,” She caught me so off guard I had to use every ounce of willpower to not yelp or react in fright.
I then looked toward the slice of pie in her hand. It was a large perfect slice of pumpkin pie with a swirl of whipped cream at the top. It looked delicious.
“Thank you!” I grinned, “and please,” I said, noticing what she’d called me, “Call me Tate.”
She smiled back, and this time it seemed genuine, “Ok- Tate, enjoying your pie,” She flashed another even larger grin before once again disappearing into the diner at the turn of her heel.
Huh, she’s cute, I thought as I made my first cut into the pie.
Unfortunately, this momentary jovial interaction did not distract my mind for long, nothing ever could. I knew- I knew after years of searching I’d finally found something that connected, something that showed it wasn’t some horrible vision, and I swore an oath as I took my first bite of pie that I would pursue this case until I found the truth, until I found out what happened to Charlie Baker.