“Enough, Mr. Durant! I’m getting a little tired of your monster stories. Play that song for the jury if you think it will help, but I don’t want to hear another word about it.”
“I…I think we’re getting close to where…where it happened.”
Elliot, the ADA, and their four armed escorts emerged from out of the trees into a circular clearing. Sunlight shone through the opening in the forest canopy to reveal bare dirt and patches of grass growing in an open space almost thirty feet across. The hard-packed ground revealed no footprints or other signs of having been recently visited other than one glaring exception. In the center of the clearing, in a scraped-out shallow pit, were the ash and charred remains of an old campfire.
“That’s where we were staying,” Elliot pointed toward the cold fire pit. “Our tent was right here, next to the fire. I don’t know where it went. It was still here after…” He swallowed thickly and glanced at Dirk. “After.”
“And your family?” asked the guard holding the shotgun. He glared at Elliot with narrow-set, dark eyes sunk deep in his long face. His cheeks, red from the hike, and heavy frown lines etched along his nose and mouth made Elliot think of an evil ventriloquist’s dummy. On his chest the guard wore a silver name badge with T. Wallace etched into it in black letters.
“The tent was ripped open from the top and when the creature crawled in, we ran outside to get away.” Elliot paused and glanced again at the district attorney. The ADA sighed, but otherwise said nothing. “We ran out and went that way.”
The group moved in the direction Elliot had indicated. When they reached the tree line at the opposite end of the clearing from where they had entered another guard cleared his throat to get their attention. He gestured toward a spindly oak tree, and they all turned to see a filthy, black-and-white sneaker laying on the ground.
“That looks like Michael’s shoe,” said Elliot. “We were barefoot when we ran into the trees. I think it must have fallen there when the tent got dragged away.”
“Where did you go from here?” asked the district attorney.
“We ran, but didn’t get very far before it caught us. It grabbed Laila first.”
“Your wife?”
“Yes. It grabbed her before we got more than a few feet into the trees.”
“So, we should find her around here somewhere?”
Elliot nodded, unable to speak for a moment. A tear crawled from his left eye and tracked down his cheek. He tried to wipe it away, but the chain around his waist stopped his hand before it could get close to his face. He sniffled and hunched his shoulder to his cheek instead, using his shirt to blot away the wetness.
“Yeah. Somewhere close by. The boys won’t be far away either. The thing was...too fast. We didn’t have a chance.”
“But you got away, didn’t you?” asked the guard named Wallace. He had an ugly tone to his voice, and his lip curled up in a sneer. “How do you think you managed that?”
“It let me go.”
“And why would it do that?” asked the ADA.
Elliot shrugged. “I don’t know. It just did.”
But Elliot was lying. He did know why it let him go.
A screech echoed through the trees; a high-pitched wail like the sound a hurt child might make. The deputies startled and glanced around the trees, trying to gauge how far away the source of the cry might be.
Elliot flinched. He knew the sound, and what it represented. He opened his mouth to warn the others, but Wallace was already shouting orders.
“Trent, you and Mitchell go check that out. The rest of us will stay with the prisoner.”
The guards, Trent and Mitchell, nodded. The two men disappeared into the trees, moving as quickly as possible while still minimizing the noise of their own passage. Elliot saw them draw their service pistols before he lost sight of them in the dense growth. Several minutes passed as Elliot and the remainder of his escort waited for their return.
The cry repeated, but this time it was followed by shouting and the sharp report of gunshots. The shouts turned to screams, and in turn were cut short a moment later. The group strained to hear any further activity, but there was nothing left to hear. Silence ruled the forest again.
Elliot did not move. He was frozen in place; not from panic, but rather from resignation. The new silence that surrounded them was eerie. No birds sang, and the normally incessant hum of insects had completely stilled. Only a faint rustle of leaves in the trees as the wind blew past disturbed the utter calm.
“Trent!” called out Wallace, breaking the moment. “Mitch! What’s happening?”
A faint galloping noise sounded in the distance, growing louder by the second. Something large was running directly toward them, moving fast and steadily through the obstructing trees and brush. Wallace brought the shotgun up to a ready position, and the other two guards drew their pistols from the holsters at their sides. The ADA, unarmed, sidled closer to Elliot. Whether it was to protect him, or put him in the path of whatever was approaching, Elliot did not know.
A green and yellow blur flashed through the group of men. Wallace’s shotgun fired as the guard was struck by their unidentified assailant; the blast ear-splittingly loud at such close quarters. The shotgun pellets flew harmlessly off into the trees as Wallace disappeared. There was no more than a splash of blood on the ground to announce that the man had ever been with them.
Elliot turned to face the attorney standing behind him. “Monster,” he said.
Dirk’s eyes were wide with panic and shock. He didn’t seem so eager to discount Elliot’s story now.
The creature flashed past them a second time, sending one of the two remaining guards staggering drunkenly while clutching at his throat, trying to stop the blood that geysered from his opened carotid artery. His partner
