Willow Wood

He closed the car door harder than expected. Then he just stared at his reflection in the shine of the black Cadillac. The lamp of the parking lot provided ample glow for him to make out the contours of the wrinkles just below his sullen eyes, bloodshot and sunken. His hair was ruffled enough to appear a disorganized organization of dark brown threads, curly and not unpleasant. He hated the sight of it, though. Always. There was no assortment that brought him satisfaction, so he had committed himself to giving them their own leeway. There was a speck of something on the end of his nimble nose. He flicked it away and then turned toward the diner.

 The booths were filled. He could see that through the windows. But the bar still had some open slots. He listened to the pluds of his footsteps in the after shower puddles, and though he did not look down, he could hear the disrupted water droplets emitting their customary pecks against the macadam. LARRY’S blared in neon red over the entry with an annoying hum and the occasional spitz of a shorting electrical wire. Just before passing inside, he saw the bright instant of sparks as the Y blew out to make the sign read LARR’S.

 The silence was interesting and unbearable, a complexing paradox. He was used to the busy noise of New York streets, but here no one talked. They just ate and let be. He would only hear the periodic clank of spoons in soup bowls, slurps on coffee mugs, and crumples of evening newspapers. Even the single waitress was so graceful that her tray of servings never made a sound as she danced around the room. He watched her fit, model body - she had to be in her forties but she didn’t look a day over twenty; her eyes showed older wisdom - admiring her plump breasts as they wiggled within her brassiere. But then he scolded himself mentally. It was no way to treat a woman, even if the sentiment was not overt.

 He took the stool nearest the entrance where the bar curved toward the floppy kitchen door. As he sat, the waitress sent him a bewitching smile and he got caught in her flawless face. Her curly red locks formed a perfect frame, elucidating the blue mascara around her eyes and accenting her dark crimsoned lips. What was most fascinating to the investigator in him was how she had vigorous energy, showing not even the slightest sign of fatigue. She finished delivering a platter of steak and eggs then twirled toward the backside of the bar, elegantly slipping the tray inside the cup of her left arm as she went. She wiped her hands against the green smock apron masking her striped uniform as she approached him.

 “Hi,” she said. There was too much joy in the voice for such a dismal setting. “New to Willow Wood?”

 He found himself nodding before he could process the action, and then he added a grin for kicks. “Just here for a short time.”

 There was a pause as she sized him. She was smiling the whole time, but he knew that was what was happening. He’d been through it enough. Most people didn’t appreciate him snooping in their towns, liked their personal space and secrets to remain personal, as it were.

 Then she extended her hand. “Well, let me be the first to welcome you. I’m Meredith Leitzer.”

 He shook it. “Pretty name. German in origin, I’m assuming.”

 She giggled. “Indeed. How did you guess?”

 “I’ve made a living off observations. I’m a journalist from Brooklyn. Name’s Clint Wellock.”

 “Journalist, huh.” Still too cheery. Way too much. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. What can I get you?”

 He thought for a moment then said, “Just a coffee. Black.”

 “Comin right up.” She turned to the coffee maker behind her, just below the service window, setting the tray down beside it. “I’ll have to make a new pot, though. Been a busy night.”

 “No worries. The fresher, the better. I can wait.”

 As she started the pot, he peered through the window at the moderately chunky chef, cooking away at something that smelled of coriander and garlic. His beard was way too long and lacking a hairnet, which made Clint happy that he had declined a meal. The white tank top that he wore was permeated by extravagant sweat stains, one near the nape of his neck shaped like Alaska.

 “You know,” Meredith said as she spun around to him, her palms resting against the countertop, “we don’t get many journalists in these parts. Most locals to the Rockies keep to themselves. Not that I mean to pry too much, but what brings a New Yorker all the way to North Dakota?”

 And there it was. Just like that. The ultimate question. Why? Truth be told, he didn’t even know. There were rumors. Juicy ones whose details he needed to hammer out for himself. It was a journalist thing he couldn’t explain. A deep hunger that aches in more than the stomach. An itch that absolutely had to be scratched. A cancer he had to eradicate.

 “I’m here to see her.”

 The silence grew. He didn’t think it possible, but it enlarged. The clanks, slurps, and crumples stopped. He noticed the man next to him make a full body slide in his direction, tan sports coat coming open as he lay his newspaper on the counter, atop his platter of food. Clint felt the whole room scanning him and knew he had struck true. Even the chef had turned to examine him through the window, beads of sweat running down his chin and into the collar of his shirt.

 “So it’s true.”

 Meredith was looking straight into him, one of those soul searching glares. Then she cleared her throat. As the murmur of gossip began, she whistled to quiet everyone and said, “You all go back to your business.” She hurried around the counter and dragged Clint outside by the wrist.

**********

She plopped him down on a bench beside the entry. He could feel a wad of used gum smush into his pants. It was warm and gooey, and he knew it would take forever to get all of it out.

 “Hey,” he said, “what’s the deal?”

 “The deal is you are about to open up a can worms you don’t want to be dealing with.” Her stare was stern, a strand of her auburn hair splitting one eye.

 “Look, the last thing I want is to start trouble. But news of your little secret is getting out. And I can smell a century-making story that needs to be told. The President wants to mobilize the National Guard to take care of the problem, but the issue with that is that no one knows if you folks are for real. You need someone to clear the air and make your tiny town presentable again. Or do you all want property values to continue plummeting and ski resorts to close? I know Butch Resort is close by and has brought many tourists through.”

 She sighed, crossing her arms. She took a seat beside him. She reached into the pocket of her apron and removed a blue lighter and a pack of Camels. She flipped it open and slipped one between her lips. She flicked the lighter open and struck it a few times. When it caught and flamed to life, the soft glow made it look as if the camel on the package was roaming the dunes on the image’s skyline. The tip of the cigarette turned orange and she heaved in a long draft, exhaling it slowly.

 She held the pack out to him. “Want a smoke?”

 He shook his head. “Three years clean.”

 She smiled. “Good for you. I always wanted to quit but keep finding a reason not to.”

 There was a long silence between them. He allowed it. A semi went by on the roadway past the parking lot, kicking up a gigantic spray of rainwater. The hiss was otherworldly in the night. He listened to it, absorbed it, let it wash into him. It was alien in distance but natural in substance. He closed his eyes and imagined the scent of her smoke clouds to be sea foam from crashing waves. The vapory feeling wasn’t that far off. A metaphorical ocean mist.

 “Look,” she finally said, brushing her fingers through her hair, “you seem like a nice guy. And truth be told, I kinda like you. I know we just met, so I hope that’s not awkward.”

 He smiled. “No, it’s not.”

 She grinned back. “Good.”

 “But...”

 “But there are certain things in this world that people were never meant to know, much less see. And the Grey Mare is one of those things.”

 The Grey Mare. It was the first time he had heard the name spoken. Some said she was darkness itself, spawned from the coldness of the night. He’d only read the reports, but hearing the name made it finite, real, and the genuine belief in Meredith’s tone cemented that sensation.

 “What do you know about her?”

 Meredith shivered. “Only what I’ve heard. I haven’t seen her personally. Gabe Mabery was the first to report her. He’s the town roughneck, keeps to himself mostly. Most locals were incredulous like you when he brought it up, but eventually there were more sightings deep in the woods. Hunters came across her especially, almost as if she was protecting the wildlife. But then she started appearing on people’s properties, starting fires to businesses, and killing family pets. It was like she stepped out of a nightmare, you know?”

 He nodded, but kept quiet.

 She went on: “No one really knows who or what she is. You want my guess, she isn’t from this world. She’s probably from another dimension or something. But she is real.”

 “That’s interesting because most of the reports I’ve read call her a spirit.”

 She nodded. “I’ve heard those too, but her behaviors seem too real to me. I’m no paranormal expert or even all that religious, but most conjurings that I’ve heard of have limited energy and can only affect the environment and those within it so much. If she is an apparition or spirit - if you wanna use those terms - she is the most energetic one I’ve ever known. I’ve seen the shows and nothing has ever set fires or killed animals with such frequency. And now, people have started disappearing, to add to all the mess.”

 “Disappearing? You mean like...taken?”

 “That’s all I can think of. Bill Mettly would never leave Willow Wood. This place is all he’s ever known. Connie and Alec Timmel were always talking vacation, but they left in the middle of the night, leaving their kids and business uncovered. Phillip Dexter was the only child to go missing, nine-years-old, and his parents have been on a hopeless search ever since.”

 “What about Sherry Newen? She is the only one I’ve heard about.”

 Her lip began to quiver. She looked toward the road as the tears began to slip down her cheeks in neat rows. “Oh, yeah. Sherry.” Her voice cracked. “I’m sorry. I put her out of my mind.”

 He put his hand on her shoulder. “If you can’t, it’s okay. I’ll ask someone else.”

 She gave a wave. “No, no. Those folks inside are more likely to give you a beating and chase you out of town than talk. Besides, Sherry was my best friend.”

 “What happened?”

 She took a moment to wipe her face and blew her nose with a tissue from her apron. It was a sickening honk, but she looked better afterwards, despite the ruined mascara. “She vanished like the rest. Only the sheriff later found her body down by Menzie Creek. She’d been severed in half and then tossed by the shore after her entire insides had been sucked out.”

 Gruesome. Truly. There was no other viable term. Then again, diabolical about summed it up as well. Whatever or whoever the Grey Mare was, she was carnivorous and dangerous, threatening humans and wildlife alike with no distinction. Yet perhaps there was some method to the killings. “Is there anything special about the disappeared? Anything they share in common?”

 “Nothing,” she said. “Except that they are all locals, unlike me and a few others in town.”

 “So no tourists or visitors have been harmed?”

 She straightened, sniffling. “Come to think of it, no. Do you think she is intentionally killing people from town?”

 He scratched at the stubble beneath his chin. “I don’t know. But that is definitely a pattern. I need to find her and find out.”

 Meredith stood frantically and whirled on him, getting close. “No way. We need to tell the sheriff. Get him involved.”

 Clint shook his head. “And what is he going to do about it?”

 “Gather the troops, start a search party, hunt the thing down.”

 “Unlikely. He is more likely to chock it up as coincidence and keep looking for new leads. Cops are skeptics. It’s ingrained in their training. He probably doesn’t even believe the Grey Mare is real. He probably thinks there is a serial kidnapping going on or that people just jumped town since Sherry was the only one to show up dead. Tell me I’m wrong.”

 She couldn’t. He could tell. She froze and shrunk back away from him, crossing her arms once more.

 “It will have to be me,” he said, standing. “I’m the only one that seems interested at this point. And I’ve never let anything scare me away from a good story.”

 He started for the Cadillac and then felt her hand on his own. “Wait.”

 She left him and went inside. There was a commotion in the back through the service window between her and the chef. Then she came storming through the entrance to the diner yelling over her shoulder, “Just take it out of my pay, Jerry!” Slung around her arm was brown leather purse and she was wearing a black sweater with sleeves that ran down just past her wrist, tiny sparrows embroidered masterfully around the edges of the cuffs.

 She walked past him to the car. “I’m coming with you.”

 He turned to her as she opened the passenger door. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”

 “And why not, Mr. Wellock?” He didn’t like that look. It was too stern for such a quiet night.

 “Enough people have gotten hurt already.”

 “Well,” she said, “I can handle myself plenty fine. And I wasn’t asking.”

 With that, she slipped inside and slammed the door. He stood there for a moment, contemplating what had just taken place. Then he smirked and jumped into the driver’s seat.

**********

“What journal do you report for?”

 These were the first words she had spoken in about twenty minutes. She had convinced him that the first place to start was Menzie Creek, where Sherry had been found mutilated, and it was further away from town than expected. It was still part of Willow Wood city limits, which she had explained included vast acres of forest. And she wasn’t lying. The last sign of civilization they had encountered was a rusty pickup headed back toward town in the eastbound lane. And the terrain was rough. There were several steep inclines they had had to traverse with even steeper declines and bends. It was everything one expected from the Rocky Mountain experience.

 He looked over to see her slouched back with her shoes off and feet propped up on the dashboard. The appearance was charming and accented her features even more, which caused his attraction to her to grow. Her legs were so smooth he was afraid she was going to slide out of the seat unwittingly. He realized he was starting to like her too, but most likely for the wrong reasons. So he shook it off again.

 “Times, believe it or not,” he said. “I only did small stories before this one. You know, puff pieces. Nothing that would catch eye. Get any rewards or anything. But I always wanted that major story, that one big one that would turn things around. Make a difference.”

 “I can get that,” she said. “There’s something in all of us that causes us to want to make a difference in others’ lives. I’m unsure how a story would do that, though.”

 “You would be surprised. Everyone learns new information most quickly by hearing it conveyed through story. That’s why we are so obsessed with novels, narrative poetry, and nonfiction. They provide a link to the real through invoking the imagination creatively in ways that basic data processing do not. Even ancient cultures recognized that fact, perhaps more so than our own. That’s why the Bible is chock full of stories and the Ancient Greeks told tales about sea monsters and gods.”

 She smiled. “Fascinating, mister writer man.”

 He laughed. “No, I’m serious. Our brains are wired that way. We receive truth best through the communication of story. Unfortunately, our minds are not so good at filtering out the lies, which is why everyone believes different things. We’re gullible creatures.”

 She nodded. “On that we can agree.”

 They rode for another few moments in the quiet. There was no one on the road, so Clint had the high beams blaring and could see everything. Not that there was much to see. The highway was desolate and enveloped by only trees. He hadn’t observed any side roads for the past five miles. If there was truly a beast out here terrorizing the town, it would have ample space and coverage to hide. There was no doubt. And human inactivity in these parts would limit encounters significantly, unless the creature itself was instigating said encounters.

 They passed a sign for mile marker one twenty-two. It flared up in its neon yellow for a split second, but his excitement had them soaring at eighty-five. It was just another blip in their lives.

 “Let me ask you something,” he said.

 She turned to him folding her arms around her waist and pushing up those beautiful breasts. “Shoot.”

 He was caught off guard by the sight and had to pause for a second to collect himself. He cleared his throat a few times

 “Are you all right?” she asked.

 “Yes. Yes, I’m fine. Just felt a tickle in my throat. Think I got something caught in there.” He brushed away the sweat from his brow and coughed once, to make it appear authentic. Then he continued. “How long have the strange events with this thing been happening?”

 She sighed. “About as long as I’ve been in Willow Wood.” She looked out the windshield. “Don’t you go accusing me of anything, though.”

 He laughed again. “Why would I go accusing you of anything? You’ve been the only person willing to give me answers since I got into this place.”

 “I don’t know. Sometimes local legends spawn local problems with local solutions and local instigators. And I’m local. I’ve been running my whole life like I don’t fit in and sometimes I’ve gotten mixed up in situations where people just want someone to blame and will find any reason to pass guilt and shame.”

 “Well, I’m not local and I don’t pass any accusations without proper evidence.”

 “Good to hear. The turnoff to the creek is coming up”

**********

It came up quick. A skinny dirt road that squiggled and zagged. He made the sharp right turn faster than anticipated and nearly lifted the Cadillac of the ground. Surprisingly, Meredith never made a sound. She remained quiet and simply watched everything as if it was a typical daily happening. He expected at least a curse word or two, but none came.

 “You’ll take this about two miles,” she finally said. “Then there will be another path to the left that we will have to walk to the creek. Too small for cars.”

 He nodded. “So why the Gray Mare?”

 “Pardon?”

 “Why do they call it that?”

 She sighed. “Oh, no particular reason. That was all Gabe Mabery could think of to call it. He said it looked like a horse from his worst nightmares, only it wasn’t one. It was partly humanoid in shape and seemed to think and act in like manner. As in, it had intentional behaviors rather than instinctual ones.”

 “Reasoning.”

 “Exactly.”

 “So when we encounter this horse, what do you think we should do? I mean, I just want the story. I’m not ready for combat.”

 “It could just be a horse for all we know.”

 He shook his head. “I doubt it. If it performed all the kidnappings and killings you described, the likelihood of it being a horse is slim to none.”

 “Unless it wasn’t the horse that did the killings and the people missing really did just leave.”

 “If that’s the case, then how do you explain Sherry?”

 She held back any response. When he looked over, it was clear she was having trouble formulating one. She was examining her reflection in the passenger window intently and giving that occasional flick of the eyes that indicated deep, serious thought. Then she looked back to him. “Very true. I can’t.”

 “Neither can I. And it also wouldn’t explain the missing child either. It’s unlikely he just bailed on his parents, not a nine-year-old. No. He was taken.”

 Everything was darkness and shadow, the tall shadows of trees that blipped in and out of focus through the rays of the high beams. He had slowed down a great deal for this trek since traction on the dirt road was nearly inexistent. They came around another sharp curve and then a long bend was visible ahead.

 “That’s the last part of the path,” she said. “It ends up ahead and then the trail begins to the left. That’s where we’ll have to walk.”

 “I hope you have your walking shoes then.”

 She smiled. “Actually, it’s muddy and sloggy. It’s easier to take barefoot.”

 He raised his eyebrows. “Interesting. Not usually something I do on the first date, but hey, you only live forever.”

 She giggled, that same cute one she had done in the diner. “Settle down, cowboy.”

 The bend wasn’t as long as he thought. They came around fast, and he had to slam the breaks to keep from colliding with a massive oak. “Nothing like cutting it close.”

 He exited the driver’s side and went to trunk. He popped it open and started rummaging through his unopened suitcases. He listened as Meredith got out and walked to him.

 “Were you expecting to skip town fast?” she asked.

 He laughed. “Not exactly. Just haven’t been around long enough to get unpacked or even a hotel room. I got in and drove straight to Willow Wood, straight to the diner, in my trusty luxury rental, courtesy of generous benefactors who want to see my story succeed.”

 He pulled out two large spotlight flashlights and handed one to her. “It seems like you were expecting this.”

 “Oh no. Not this. But as a journalist, you never know where the evidence will carry you.”

 “I guess not,” she agreed.

 He removed his shoes and socks and threw them into the back. Then he made his way to the front left where the trail began, and she stuck to his heels. The black was thick and harsh, unnerving. The first step nearly swallowed his entire leg in a void of mud. The slurp was loud enough to send away a flock of bats resting on a branch above them.

 She grabbed his arm and hoisted him out. “I told you.”

 He nodded. “Good call on the shoes.”

 The crickets picked up their chanting as they both lugged on, and he could make out the faint questions of an owl in the distance. There was even a small splash up ahead to indicate that the fish were out. This forest seemed more active at night that any he had ever been to.

 “How far to the creek?”

 “About a hundred yards.”

**********

When they neared, the mud gave way to a long bed of pebbles that put quite the strain on his feet. He kept trying to find a soft spot, but there was none. The rocks merely shifted with his weight and shot pain up his ankles, so he focused on ignoring them.

 The creek was narrow, probably no wider than five feet. Too far to jump, but shallow enough to traverse. It probably provided an elegant water supply for the local wildlife, which could suggest some explanation as to why Sherry had been found on its shore. The moonlight glistened off of it enough to illuminate the surroundings, so he clicked off the flashlight and heard Meredith do the same.

 “Where was Sherry found?”

 She pointed down the shore to the right. “About thirty feet that way.”

 “You know these distances pretty well.”

 She sighed and strained to keep back the tears. “Hard to forget. They called on me to identify the body.”

 His heart hurt. A beautiful creature like her should never have to go through that. “I’m so sorry.”

 He pushed on in the direction of Sherry’s end, going as slowly as possible to avoid what bruises he could on the balls of his feet. Meredith kept close behind. He would hear the crunch of her steps shortly following his own.

 It wasn’t long before a trail of dark crusted crimson became visible just shy of the tree line. There were tiny spots to begin, but they progressively increased in size as he and she got closer. When they reached the source, they found a massive puddle of coagulated blood.

 “This is where it happened,” she said.

 “Curious.”

 “Pardon?”

 He crinkled his brow. “They would have cleaned up after processing the crime scene. As much of the blood as possible would have been collected as DNA evidence, so why is this still here?”

 He looked up at her. She had her arms crossed again and was shivering. “I don’t know. But I don’t like this.”

 The crickets and owls had stopped. He noticed in that moment the absolute silence, a kind of quiet that cut to the bone. And as he examined the creek, he couldn’t make out any fish. So what had made those splashes earlier?

 “Sherry always liked it out here,” Meredith said. “This was her favorite spot to come.”

 “Perhaps that’s how she encountered the Mare.” He started scanning the surroundings as he said this. He didn’t feel like they were alone. His voice was distant. “It probably came out of the woods to drink while she was here walking and meditating or something.”

 “But what about it’s other kidnappings and killings? The pattern shows intention.”

 “Yeah. I was just offering hopeful sentiment.” He scratched his forehead. “Do you feel different out here? This place is like another world.”

 She nodded. “I want to go.”

 “But what if it’s close by and we can track it. Maybe we can see what it is up to.”

 “Yeah, and end up it’s next victims. I don’t think so. We came out here for evidence and there is nothing except Sherry’s blood.”

 He shook his head. “No. Not Sherry. They would have definitely collected all that. This blood is different. It looks like a cross between living and dead, partially coagulated.”

 “That’s not possible.”

 “Yet here it is.”

 They felt the screech before they heard it. The high pitches caused latent rumbles through the ground, and some of the trees vibrated, showing the location of whatever had made the sound. It was not far. Maybe about fifty yards down the shoreline. Though the glow of the moonlight was strong, they could not make anything out at that distance other than a legion of shadows, likely only bushes and foliage at the base of the forest edge.

 “What the hell was that?!” she shrieked.

 “Shhh! Don’t let it know where we are.” But he knew it already did. That screech held a tone of awareness that was undeniable. Whatever had made it was stalking them and likely had been since their arrival.

 Then he saw it. Something scaling the trunk of an oak. On cue, the top of the tree shook and released a cascade of leaves to their muddy graves. He lost it again in the canopy overhead.

 He motioned to her. “Move back toward the trail and keep the flashlight off. I’m hoping the darkness will conceal us.”

 He took her hand. She was trembling harshly, but she began to stir. He slowly coaxed her onward. Not being able to locate the menacing creature, or whatever it was, was worse than seeing it for the first time. Though technically, they hadn’t seen it. It still maintained enough distance and stayed aerial so that they could make out nothing but it’s silhouette. It was definitely conscious of their presence, and he was praying that they would be able to slog through the muddy pathway back to the car before it could reach them.

 But it was to no avail. A debilitating weight crashed into him from overhead and then slung him into the creek. The chilling water washed over him and flushed his nostrils until he was coughing and spewing. He rolled over on his back, gagging until it was all out. He produced a horrid cackle as liquid fled his lungs.

 When he looked up, the sight terrified him. Standing on two legs was a slender grey mass, skinny as a skeleton. It stared at him through orange orbs, snarling. Its snout was elongated like a dog and rimmed with razor teeth. The long scraggly fingers on it hands - hands, not hooves or paws - had thick talons like pincers, and its knees bent backward rather than forward. He could feel the sting of its energy. It screeched again and the pitch was deafening. He had to cover his ears.

 Meredith was behind it screaming. She was barely audible beneath the screech. The creature was fully focused on him until his gaze shifted to her. Then it noticed the other presence and spun around. Its movement was fluid and weightless. It pounced on her and grabbed her by the leg. She gave him a final look of horror before the thing took off, dragging her into the woods. Her screams continued to echo all the way.

 “MEREDITH!!!”

**********

He ran. Hard. Following the trail. The grass was still matted enough from their exit that he was able to. His feet were killing him, swollen, but he paid them no mind. His only thought was Meredith. He need to reach her and defeat that thing. He had no clue how he was going to accomplish such a feat, but he had to try.

 The crickets and other woodland creatures gradually resumed their symphony, aware that the threat had passed and had no quarrel with them. He picked up speed as much as he could without getting tangled in any bushes or shrubs at the bases of the trees. Jagged sticks were everywhere, and he seemed to discover each one, splitting them with heavy steps. His heart was going a mile a minute. 

 When the first cut ripped open at the ball of his left foot, he hardly noticed. He pressed on, leaving a maroon streak in his wake. But as he reached the edge of the forest where a clearing awaited on the other side, a big branch spilt beneath him and stabbed into his right foot, momentarily crippling him.

 He cried out and collapsed, reaching down for the wound. Blood seeped out around it and ran down the bottom of the appendage in zagged rivulets. He wiped away the dirt and bits of leaves and then braced himself. Taking rapid, deep breaths, he snatched the end of the stick that remained outside the foot and yanked. The pain was excruciating, and he gave another bloodcurdling cry. He fell back in the leaves, heaving and sighing. The dirt was comfortable against his cheek, and he lay there for a few seconds, feeling lightheaded. But then he pushed himself up. He had to cover the wound or he would bleed out.

 It was a mess. A black hole with a red ring spoked like the sun. He watched the blood rivers continue to fan out and drip off into the earth. Then he removed his jacket and ripped a long strip of fabric from the shoulder of his T-shirt. He placed the flat end over the wound and wrapped the rest of the strip around the foot. He tied a knot at the top. As he tightened it, he groaned as a stinging burn shot up his right leg.

 He reclined on his elbows, staring up into the forest canopy. Brief glimpses of moonlight sprinkled the shadows. The wound would be fine as long as he got back to civilization soon. It would surely be infected if he did not clean it out, and he would have to be examined by medical personnel. But for now, none of that mattered.

 He spun to his stomach and lifted himself into a shaky stance. He wobbled for a quick second and had to steady himself against the trunk of the nearest pine. But his balance slowly returned.

 He limped toward the opening twenty feet away. Each step was agony, but he ignored them. As the trees disappeared, he found himself in the midst of a wide field sloping upward toward a cliff face. The light was dim but strong enough to glisten off the blades of grass, illuminating their bright green hues. There were no signs of life.

 “Meredith!!!”

 Nothing. The first tears started to come. He swiped them away with his jacket, which he was now pulling beside him by the sleeve.

 “Merediiiith!!!”

 A cool breeze waved over the field, closing up his pores. He watched the goose flesh spread and started to laugh for no reason at all.

 He made his way to the edge to find that the field made a steep drop about three hundred feet into another collection of woods. He just stood there trying to see if the trees would move. If the creature could climb trees with those talons, it could easily scale and descend a rock wall. But they remained still.

 Then he notice a large dark shadow forty feet to his right at the base of the cliff face. He turned and walked over. It was the opening to a cavern. Crystals and geodes were spread throughout and refracted the moonlight into a collage of colors. Almost everything was visible and from what he could see, it looked empty. He wanted to climb in, but there were no suitable access points and a fall would surely kill him. It was at least a sixty foot drop and there was no telling what mayhem awaited in the shadows.

 He finally thought of his phone and pulled it out. He clicked and held the side button several times, but nothing happened. His little bath in the creek had fried it. His brother had always told him he needed to get a waterproof phone because he was always getting caught up in the weirdest situations, but he never listened. If only his brother could see him now.

 He threw it on the ground and turned back toward the tree line. He would have to get help from town. He was out of options.

 Mid turn, he froze. The creature loomed five feet away, towering over him with wild grunts and sighs. Its nostrils spewed steam each time, and Clint watched the clouds sparkle and fade as his heart stopped. He was bewildered. There was no explanation as to how it had approached him without sound. The stealth was preternatural, and he knew its intentions had to be nefarious in nature. Fresh red crusted around its teeth. He hoped and prayed that it did not originate from Meredith.

 They observed each other for what seemed countless seconds. He wanted to run, but he knew it would be pointless. The thing had moved so quickly when it had attacked Meredith that there was no way he could beat it.

 A long tongue seeped out from those bony jowls and licked the rims. Then the tip flicked at the air before slithering back inside. The serpentine action was alien, accenting the monster’s otherworldliness, but it also felt right, like it belonged.

 It screeched that horrid, ear-piercing sound again and then charged him. Clint tried to scream, but there was not enough time. The move was so quick that the mass of the beast hit him square in the chest, driving the air from his lungs. He went flying into the opening of the cavern, into the mouth of the abyss.

**********

When he woke, he was clueless to where he was. Something squishy was beneath him. He thought he was dreaming and was sleeping on a waterbed in some sketchy motel with his ex-wife on one of their occasional one night stands. But when he reached over, there was no warm body beside him. Just a dusty rock floor.

 He rolled off whatever he was on and grunted. Everything was sore, but he was alive. He lay on his forearms catching his breath. Specks of dust invaded when he sucked in and coated his dry mouth. He coughed.

 He wanted to see what he had been resting on and immediately regretted the decision. The deflated body of a man was beside him, still clad in his sheriff uniform. His badge glinted in the refracted light. He had been torn in two, the bottom half of his torso lying two feet away in a pool of blood. Nothing else was visible. No entrails, no guts...nothing, as if everything inside him had been vacuumed clean. The only part of him that retained some semblance of humanity was his face, which glared up at the opening overhead with a lifeless stare.

 Clint hollered, a doglike bark, and scrambled to stand. He instantly felt the sting from the hole in his foot and grimaced. He limped over to a big stone and sat, looking around.

 The place was covered in bodies, most strewn about the floor but others pinned against the walls by thick vines. All of them were split and empty like the cop. He felt as if he were in a spider’s web and almost expected a giant one to creep down through the opening with its eight hairy legs and four pupil-less eyes. But, of course, it did not. This was the lair of something far more sinister.

 A well of bile sprang up in his throat. He leaned over and vomited beside a man in a construction getup. It was orange and green and filled with red chunks, matching his dinner of vodka sauce linguine and pea soup. Even my meals are odd, he thought. The shame was it had probably been his last meal and he couldn’t even keep it down.

 He wiped away the remnants with the back of his hand and turned back to the cavern. That was when he saw Meredith. She was tethered to the wall across from him. She was stark naked but she was intact. Her head was resting above her left breast and her chest rose and fell. He was struck by her beauty once more, as if it was a living thing crawling through his brain, but his excitement at the sight of her alive overpowered his arousal.

 “Meredith!!!”

 He ran to her and started tearing off the vines. They came off with relative ease in his adrenaline strengthened grasps.

 She started to stir. “Wha-”

 He wrapped his arms around her waist and lowered her to the ground.

 As soon as her feet hit the cold surface, her eyes flipped open. She slapped him and screamed. “Get off! Leave me alone!”

 He held her tighter. “Meredith, calm down! It’s me! It’s me!”

 She relaxed. “Clint?” Then she looked around the cave. “Where is it? Where are we? Why am I naked?”

 He released his grip but kept his hands on her waist because she was swaying slightly. Her skin was so smooth and warm. “We are in a cavern. I think it’s that thing’s feeding ground. And I have no idea why you’re naked. Everyone else in here still has their clothes. Maybe it thought it would be easier to eat you without an extra layer. Can you walk?”

 She nodded. “I just need a second.”

 He led her to the stone where he had been sitting and allowed her to rest. He didn’t know how long they had before the mare came back but he refused to leave her and she was in no condition to be traipsing around the forest. Besides, he needed to find a way up. There were no other entrances to the cave.

 “I’ll look for your clothes,” he said. “Do you have a phone?”

 She nodded again. “It should be in the right pocket of my jeans.”

 He walked the circumference of the cave searching as best he could, but he found nothing except more bodies. So he moved on to searching their lower halves for anything of use. It took all of his might to keep from throwing up again, but he was successful. It was probably the only successful objective he had completed the whole night.

 He should have listened to Meredith and gotten the police involved, but he was so certain they would do nothing. Now, his intuition, true or false, had gotten them into a bind with no means of escape. How he wanted to climb back on that plane and fly straight back to New York. He never should have taken the contract for the story. He was always going against his better judgment for the money.

 “CLINT!!!”

 He whirled. The mare stood over Meredith, licking its chops once more in that alien yet realistic fashion. He ran and jumped between them, staring down the beast. It stepped back, clearly not expecting the intrusion. It reeked of something sour and death.

 “You want to eat someone, take me,” he said. “But leave her alone. She has no part of this. It was my idea to come after you.”

 He had no reason to talk to it. It likely had no understanding, and he thought this to be true...until it snickered.

 Then it talked. “That’s the plan.”

 “Wait. What?”

 It dawned on him. All the bodies were male, men and boys. Not a single woman was among the deceased. The only one had been Meredith and she still lived. It hadn’t touched her.

 “Clint.”

 He turned around. A bed needles bit into his neck and ripped away a chunk of his flesh.

**********

He pressed his hand into the void and felt the warmth of his life spilling over and through his fingers. He collapsed into the body of the chef from the diner, halved and deflated like the rest. When he looked up, Meredith stood over him, chewing, her lips doused in the maroon of his blood. It coated both of them and had begun to slide down her chin.

 He looked to the creature and watched it transform. There were sickening pops as its bones reconstructed and grew fat and flesh. The snout slowly compressed into the face of a woman. She stood there, just as naked as Meredith...watching, smiling.

 “This is Sherry,” Meredith said. She crouched down over him as another nude woman approached from behind. They were all exquisite specimen. Even in his pain and dying he could not evade such thoughts. “And that is Connie Timmel.

 “As you can see, they are both very much alive.”

 He swallowed and choked as blood started to rise into his throat. His breathing increased as panic was setting in. A sliver of it squeezed out the side of his mouth and descended across his cheek.

 “I’m sure you have a lot of questions, but I’m not sure you have enough time for me to answer them all.” She scratched her forehead. “Where to start? Well...you were right about stories. People learn most from legends and tales, especially when they believe in them and see their truth. It makes them cautious and ready to deal with trials and troubles.

 “The problem today is that most people no longer believe, calling myths and legends ‘tall tales’ and ‘pure fiction.’ Tsk, tsk, tsk, such a shame.” She laughed. “You see, we are what the Ancient Greeks came to call Sirens. Well, I am. These two are part human. I made them. All it takes is a single bite. Like a vampire. And good thing too. Sherry was dealing with stage two lymphoma and Connie had a serious weight issue. I cured them, you see.

 “I know, you are probably confused because we are supposed to be like mermaids and sing songs to lure men into our grasps, but the truth is that our beauty is plenty sufficient, as you’ve come to learn. I heard all your dirty thoughts and desires. I know plenty well what you wanted to do to me. And I’m sorry that your pathetic, weak mind was so drawn into the temptations and lusts of men. If only God had designed you stronger and gave you an iron will like Odysseus. Did you know he is the only one who ever escaped us? Pity, too. He looked so delicious.”

 Clint groaned and cried.

 Her hand morphed into that skinny claw and she reached toward his chest. “Oh, Clint. I can’t have anyone reporting us. We just got settled, you see. This place is ours now. And we are working so hard to clear it. I would hate to lose all that progress.” The talons pierced into his ribs. He watched as the crimson streams washed out into the night. “I’ll be damned if I am going to let anything ruin us.”

 She grabbed his heart and squeezed. He felt the heavy burn as the veins and vessels snapped away and the muscle was pried from inside him. His blood sprayed over her, coating her skin and tits in red flecks, and she only grew more attractive. Then everything went dark.

**********

Meredith saw him stare into nothingness and knew it was over. She still held the heart as she rose. She waited for the reflexive pulses to cease and then lifted it to her mouth. She took a long bite and closed her eyes, savoring the sweet salty taste. The tendons and ligaments parted with ease. There was still enough juice inside for it to spew out and over her face. It fled down her cheek and neck, made its way down and over her left nipple, and came to rest in the crevice of her bellybutton. She blindly handed it to Sherry, who did the same and then passed it on to Connie.

 “The diner is clear,” Connie said, raising the flesh to her mouth.

 Meredith opened her eyes. They were snake eyes, orange and red irises split by the black lines of misshapen pupils. “Then it is done.” She turned to them. “Return to the sisters and bring the rest of this town to its knees.”

 They bowed to her. Then they jumped and climbed the stone walls into the stars.

**********

She closed the cruiser door harder than expected. Then she just stared into the glare, straightening her suit coat with the help of her reflection. The street lamp offered ample glow for her to see her straight brown hair falling into soft curls against the collar. She snatched it and pulled it up, organizing it into a ponytail with her fingers. Through the driver’s side she could still view the display of her dashboard computer and the image. Beneath the man it read WELLOCK, CLINTON.

 She turned to the diner. The booths were full. She could see that through the windows. But there were some vacancies at the bar. She listened to the clacks of her heeled boots as she traversed the cracked macadam. The sign eclipsing the entryway blared in neon red SHERRY’S. It had a steady hum that permeated to her bones like nails on a chalkboard.

 The silence was unique and irritating, a complexing paradox. She was used to the busy noise of New York streets, but here the conversations were soft. A low rumble that was soothing and refreshing yet too foreign. She immediately noticed that all the occupants were women, fit and attractive to male standards, and she wondered if a bus of models had broken down on its way through town.

 She took the stool at the end of the bar where the counter curved toward the flimsy door of the kitchen. There was a waitress at the other end talking to a couple other women. She went to the coffeemaker momentarily and filled two glasses that she brought over to them. She did so with such grace that she almost floated. Then she noticed her new guest and made her way down. Her hips swayed gently in the tight jeans and the smock apron covering her white tank top complimented the attire, despite being scarred by drink stains. Everything was fitted to her curves to perfection.

 “Hey there,” the waitress said. “First time in Willow Wood?”

 She nodded. “Just here for a short time, I hope. Special Agent Alice Reaver with the FBI.”

 The waitress extend her hand. “Pleasure to meet you. I’m Meredith Leitzer. Sherry is in the back. We both run this place. What can I get you?”

 “Coffee, please. Black.”

 “Comin right up.”

 She watched the waitress return to the coffee pot and fill another glass. “Not a lot of men in this town?”

 “Pardon?”

 “I see only women here tonight.”

 Meredith smiled. “Oh, that. It’s ladies’ night. We do special events like that to quell the boredom in town.”

 “Really? Interesting. I figured you would have more attention with all the hullabaloo about the Grey Mare.”

 She maintained that smile. It was too cheery in such a dismal setting. “It’s all legend. We get some people here now and then, but once they realize the hoax, they turn tail pretty quick.”

 “Right. Makes sense.”

 “What brings you our way, Special Agent? As you can probably guess, we don’t get many FBI agents.”

 She laughed. “Yeah. I bet you don’t. Quiet North Dakota is not our typical stomping ground.” She reached into the interior pocket of her suit coat and removed a photo of Wellock. She handed it to the waitress. “Have you seen this man? He flew out this way to write a piece on your Grey Mare and he hasn’t been seen or heard from since.”

 Meredith took a quick glance. “Oh, yes. He was here. But I sense something more to this than just a Bureau investigation. What is he to you?”

 Alice sighed. “Okay. I also happen to be his ex-wife. I’m concerned about his wellbeing.”

 “Ex-wife? Shouldn’t you be partying or something?”

 She laughed. “That seems to be the American thought, but we stayed close friends after the divorce. Any idea what happened to him?”

 The whole room shifted to her and she felt their gazes perusing. She looked around at all the smiling faces and got the eerie sensation that she should run, but she remained. She turned back to see the waitress inches from her face.

 “Well, now that, Special Agent,” she said, “that is a story.”