Anis

The night fell as silently as she crept. It was her time. The only time she could escape the confines of her daytime world was when the sun descended below the horizon and the sounds of the night beckoned to her. She had been cursed with a beauty that was so intoxicating that any man to lay eyes upon her would instantly try to possess her. Men had died while fighting for that sole right. Neighbour pitted against neighbour, brother against brother. The village could not survive as long as she was allowed to roam free. Finally, one fateful event led to this horrid bondage and hell that she lived. She recounted the story to herself every night. There would never be respite for her soul. Not ever.

That summer had been wonderful. The weather had been warm enough to swim in the Lake.  She loved the Lake. It was so deep you couldn’t see the bottom which made the water look black even though it was clear and fresh.  It was bordered by tall, lush evergreen trees and jutting quartz that glistened in the sun.  The sound of cicadas and a variety of wild birds echoed like a symphony within the confines of the evergreens. She often went there alone to lie in the sun or swim in the cool water that felt like silk against her skin.  

It was during one of these visits to the Lake that she met Lawrence. It was a happenstance, a chance meeting that only the stars could arrange.  She had been swimming in the Lake, floating on her back with her eyes closed to the rays of the sun.  Her clothes hung on a branch near the shore. She didn’t hear the approach of footsteps on the path; it was covered in old pine needles and as soft as a rug. She did hear the inhalation and gasp from a few meters to her left. It startled her and she splashed as she turned toward the sound. Standing amongst the branches was a young man. She thought he was the most beautiful creature she had ever seen. From the glisten in his eyes it was apparent he thought the same of her. 

The sound of a whistle woke her from her short reverie and she turned away to swim quickly toward her clothes. She recognized her father’s whistle, the one that called the children for dinner and to come in for the night. As she reached for her clothes she looked back to see if the young man was watching her but he had vanished. She dressed quickly and ran home through the darkening forest.   

Her family’s farm bordered on the forest and she emerged into the cornfield that looked as though it would yield a wonderful crop this year. She saw her sister in the distance and waved to let her know that she was on her way; no one ever wanted to be late for dinner or late for anything for that matter.  Her father was a hard man with little patience for whim or play. He would only tolerate tardiness if it was because of work that needed completion.  Her mother had died three years prior from an illness that had gripped the community and taken the souls of almost one-third of the village…many of them children and elderly. Since then, her elder sister had taken the role of matriarchal duties and supervised the household. Since her other two siblings were boys there was not a place for her at the farm. Her sister was fiercely controlling and did not delegate any duties to her, which was fine since she had no interest in the mundane. Since she was a girl, her father and brothers had no interest in what she thought or did and so she was left to herself to dream her days away and live the life of a divine nymph to run wild in the woods and pastures.  She had no friends because of her beauty and sweet demeanour.  The young women from the village hated it when she came to the market with her sister because all of the young men would have eyes only for her.  She seemed oblivious to the men’s lust and longing or the women’s jealously and venomous words. She smiled sweetly at everyone, regardless of how they looked at her, because that was her nature. It was unfathomable to her that anyone would hurt another by design.  She was accustomed to nature and animals and therefore to a natural order of co-operation. She was aware of competition among animals for mates, food, and habitat but it didn’t occur to her that people would be cruel simply out of petty jealously or lust. 

The following five days were just the same, except for the visit from the young man. She had hoped he would show again but he never did so she continued to do as she always had and explored the woods, shore, and pastures. On the sixth day, as she was absent-mindedly picking wildflowers and positioning them in her long golden curls she saw a figure approaching.  She could tell it was a man but she could not see his face with the sun in her eyes. He seemed to be nothing but a shadow. His gait was long and confident. It wasn’t long until he was close enough for her to see his face. She didn’t recognize him from the village although he looked vaguely familiar. His hair was dark, thick, and curly tied back forming a short tail down the nape of his neck. He wore a white shirt that was open enough for her to see his broad chest.  The sleeves were rolled up, displaying strong forearms that ended at large hands that looked like they could carry three maidens her size. 

As she gazed up from the ground she noticed his eyes were green with a touch of brown in them.  They were looking at her in such an intense fashion that she suddenly felt very uncomfortable.  She struggled to her feet so quickly that she almost tumbled over but he reached out and steadied her by holding her arm. It was a gentle grasp but it startled her nonetheless. She could not remember ever being touched by a man before and it occurred to her that she liked it.  Blushing, she pulled away and thanked him.  He looked down upon her and asked her name to which she replied “Anis”. He introduced himself as Charles and told her that his family had recently purchased the estate upon which she was now sitting. She began to apologize for trespassing but he interrupted her and told her that she could pick wildflowers in the pasture anytime she pleased. Anis smiled and offered him a small bouquet of what she had picked. As he took it from her their hands brushed and she felt a sliver of electricity run through her. It was an unfamiliar feeling but a very pleasant one that she craved as quickly as it dissipated.  

He offered to walk her home but she declined. She wasn’t sure how her father would react if he saw her with a stranger. She knew how her sister would react. Her sister had often warned her about men and that they could not be trusted. Anis did not believe this but she was still cautious and did not want to spoil this wonderful new feeling by being chastised endlessly during dinner.  Charles bowed ceremoniously and she giggled. He smiled and she felt her heart skip a beat. She wished she knew what was happening to her but she had no one with whom to discuss it; she certainly couldn’t ask anyone in her family. She whirled around and gracefully sprinted for home as Charles looked on. 

When she arrived home her father noticed that her face looked flush. He examined her face carefully   as she sat at the table and asked if she felt ill. Anis said she felt well. When asked about her flushed complexion she said she had been running through the fields and the fresh air must have been responsible. This seemed to appease her father but not her sister who looked at her suspiciously.  The family ate silently and when dinner was finished, Anis rose from the table and began clearing it immediately. When her sister tried to engage her in conversation she simply started talking about her day in such a fast pace that her sister had no chance to intervene. With a sigh of relief Anis put the last of the clean dinner dishes away and excused herself for the night. As she lay in bed she found herself thinking of the young man she had met earlier. She felt a tingling sensation in parts of her body she had not felt before. It was a long time before she finally fell asleep. 

The next morning her sister informed her that she needed Anis to accompany her to the Parish to attend to a pressing matter. Anis agreed and they set off along the narrow dirt road that was dry and dusty after so many dry days. Anis hoped that her sister would not try to talk to her and was relieved when her sister maintained her silence all the way to the Parish. They arrived when the sun was nearly directly above them and beating down with a relentless brightness and heat. It was a relief to open the big wooden doors and enter the cool interior.  The Parish was made entirely of stone with small windows along each wall. It was dark and it took a few minutes for their eyes to adjust to the shadows. Anis had not inquired as to the nature of the pressing matter but now that they had arrived she became curious.  She turned to her sister but her sister was walking quickly toward the altar and a dark doorway beyond it. Anis followed quietly and began to feel a twinge of annoyance.  She had agreed to come along and the least her sister could do was share information with her. 

As both young women entered the doorway a tall, thin figure in a sand-coloured robe appeared. Anis recognized him as Brother Gregoire, the Keeper of the Parish. He nodded at her sister, who then quickly retreated to the back of the Parish. Anis was visibly confused as Brother Gregoire motioned her to follow him to his ante-chamber. Once in the room he pulled a chair from the corner and invited her to sit down. He began to tell Anis that her sister had come to him several months earlier when she noticed the villagers paying inappropriate attention to Anis. Anis asked what he meant by inappropriate but he continued as though she hadn’t spoken. He explained that girls that were as attractive as Anis could fall victim to the wickedness of the flesh and that she must avoid this at all cost. Anis was completely confused; she had no idea what he was trying to tell her. He went on to say that Anis should not be in the presence of any men without the presence of a chaperone. At this point he stood in front of her and said a blessing in Latin. Anis got the impression that it was the end of the sermon and rose. As she left the room and returned to her sister she was frowning. Her sister asked if the discussion had gone well and Anis looked at her angrily, accusing her of trickery and dishonesty to get her to the Parish.  Her sister was taken aback. Anis had never responded to anyone with such a tone and in fact had hardly ever shown anger at all for a very long time. This feeling of betrayal was new to Anis and she felt as though a door had been opened that would never again be closed.  She brushed past her sister and flew down the path toward the Lake instead of the road home. Her sister called after her but to no avail. 

When Anis arrived at the Lake she sat down on a moss-covered rock and cried lightly. She didn’t know why she was crying nor did she understand any of the feelings swirling inside of her. What she did know was that she felt as though she had done something wrong and terrible and sinful to incur a sermon from Brother Gregoire. She was also angry that no one would explain anything to her but expected her to follow some sort of new rule. For years she had been left to herself with no supervision or rules and suddenly she felt as though a net had been thrown over her.

As she sat there quietly crying a shadow emerged ahead of her from behind a tree. She wiped her face and looked up to see the young man who had been watching her the day she was swimming in the Lake. She could see his hair was fair and his eyes a very dark brown. His features looked familiar and it dawned on her that the man she had met in the pasture looked very similar. The young man walked tentatively toward her and knelt down in front of her. He took both of her hands in his and gently kissed each hand. When he looked up and into her eyes she felt an incredible warmth rush through her. He rose slowly, carefully pulling her up and closer to him. She gasped as he put one arm around her waist and the other under her chin, tilting her face slightly upward. Her heart began to race and she felt breathless as he pulled her in even closer. He leaned in and their lips touched. It was a light touch, like the touch of a feather. She trembled slightly and this seemed to make the young man very happy. He kissed her again but this time he lingered and his lips pressed on hers harder. Anis felt a quiver run up her spine and was suddenly afraid. She didn’t know why she was afraid but she tried to push him away. He held on even tighter and his kiss became more passionate as he parted her lips with his tongue and touched the tip of hers. She wanted him to stop but at the same time her body responded to everything he did as though she had no control. As he pressed her into him she could feel the muscles in his chest and the strength of his arms. She felt excited at his fervor and cherished the thought of being able to control him by her reactions. She kissed him back and she suddenly felt another hardness pressing into her. This hardness caused another ripple of excitement to run through her. As they fell to the ground he reached down and pulled up her skirt. She felt his hand exploring her and she felt wave after wave of ecstasy. She cried out but not in pain; all she knew was that she never wanted it to end. Before she realized it he had positioned himself on top of her and she felt him penetrate her. With every thrust she cried out and held him tighter. His breathing became faster and heavier as he continued to make love to her. 

When it was over he kissed her forehead and held her. Anis had never known such pleasure. She was so lost in the moment that it didn’t even occur to her that the sermon had been about this exact situation. It didn’t occur to her that the timing of it all was oddly synchronistic. They lay entwined for a very long time until the cicadas started and she realized how late it had become. She realized suddenly that when she got home she would be subjected to a very long night of lectures and possible punishing chores. She didn’t care, though. It would be worth it after what she had just experienced. She did know well enough that she could not tell anyone what had just happened. She would simply tell them that she had cried herself to exhaustion and fell asleep. This may even appease her father and if her sister felt any remorse at all about deceiving Anis perhaps she would also let her alone. 

Anis looked into the eyes of the young man who looked back into hers with such emotion that Anis was brought to tears once again. He wiped them away and kissed her cheeks. For the first time, he spoke and told her everything would be alright. He said he would come to her soon. She smiled and they embraced one last time before she rose and began for home. When she reached her farm she found her father pacing madly on the front porch and her sister sitting on a stool crying. As she approached, both looked up and ran toward her. Rather than chastise her they both embraced her. Anis had underestimated how worried they would be. She felt a stab of guilt lying to them about falling asleep but they were more interested in her safe return than the reason for her absence. When she finally crawled into bed she was exhausted. She fell asleep with the face of the young man on her mind. 

The next morning everyone was awakened by cries and yells from the yard. As the family filed out of the house, her father in the lead, Anis could see almost a dozen villagers in the yard and they looked very angry. One of them, the Elder of the village, the only one left after the illness took all the others, came forward and spoke to her father. She could see her father’s face turn ashen. Fear started to run through her as though her bones were brittle and ice. She looked at her siblings and could see that same fear in them. Her father turned and looked at her with such a look that Anis thought she would faint. His eyes looked dark and stormy and suddenly she was afraid. He rushed toward her and grabbed both of her arms and shook her so violently that her brothers had to restrain him. He fell to his knees and began to sob.

As the story spilled from his trembling lips Anis also fell to the ground feeling such a deep sorrow that she had never felt before, not even when her mother had died. The two young men she had met recently were brothers. Unbeknownst to her, the dark-haired one, Charles, had been the eldest and the fair-haired one (Lawrence, as she learned) had been a bit younger. They had both wanted her and had fought over her since the day Charles told Lawrence of their chance meeting in the pasture. This had prompted Lawrence to move faster than he had intended in order to make his claim upon Anis. When Charles heard what had happened from Lawrence he became enraged. Lawrence had told him he intended to ask Anis’ hand in marriage the next morning. The brothers started to fight vehemently. They’re mother was unable to stop them and had run into the village to request assistance. When she returned with a few of the men they came upon a terrible sight. One of the brothers was impaled upon a sharp branch that was protruding from the woodpile. His face was swollen and bloody. The other brother lay upon the ground not far away, clutching at his throat which looked as though it had been cut. A large, bloody knife was on the ground between them. Both brothers were lifeless. They had killed each other for the love of Anis. 

Upon hearing this, Anis began sobbing uncontrollably. She pulled away from her family and began running toward the Lake. The villagers wanted her punished, believing her responsible for their deaths and calling her a murderess. Her sister was crying and trying to tell them it wasn’t the fault of Anis that she didn’t realize the power she had over men. As the villagers chased her, Anis ran ever faster toward the Lake. She reached a point where she could remember jumping in the water with her siblings. She looked back and while she didn’t see them she could hear the men and women from the village approaching. She started to back up and slipped on the embankment. Losing her footing she fell several feet, hit her head on a rock, and slipped under the dark water.  When the villagers arrived they could not find her. They searched the bank thinking that she was hiding. They watched the water to see if she had gone in but she did not surface. 

After a thorough search the villagers abandoned the shore and went back to the farm. Several of the men stayed there for three nights to see if she would return but she did not. Her father aged very quickly after her disappearance and the shame of the family resulted in her siblings having to take her father away where nobody would know of their story. The farm fell into ruin as the roof to the house collapsed and weeds and vines began to dominate the structure.

Now Anis emerges from the Lake every night to walk the woods and the quiet, lonely streets of the village. Her cries can be heard from afar and it sends chills through all who hear them. Occasionally a villager goes missing and witnesses have said they saw the man walking toward the Lake with a beautiful woman with flowing golden hair and a figure so sweet that no man could resist. They say she is a Banshee and when they hear her cries they know that someone will die that night. 

Anis is no longer lonely or sad. She has the souls of the men who worship and follow her to keep her company in her deep, cold domain.

WHITE POWDER

It was hotter than any other year he could remember, and he could remember a lot of years doing this job. He wished he could remove his fedora and suit jacket but that wouldn’t be professional and he needed to remain professional. It was hard enough to get modest housewives to open the door let alone invite him in. It was always the same story – “my husband wouldn’t like it”, “I can’t make any decisions without speaking to my husband first”, “my baby is sleeping”.

Occasionally, though, he would come across a woman who was not afraid of her husband. Usually these women had been raised in a big city and moved to a small town or the suburbs after getting married. They were bolder and more adventurous. This town was tougher than most. He had counted five churches. He wondered how that could possibly be practical in a town so small but thought perhaps they catered to a large rural population.  He had considered doing rural runs but farms were more likely to have the man of the house home. If he was lucky, the man would be in the field but it was too much of a risk that he might have come in for a drink or to fix something. No, it was safer to stick to what he knew.

He pulled out his kerchief and wiped his brow before shoving it back into his pocket.  The next house on his list sat back from the road at the end of a long drive.  He saw the figure of a woman kneeling in front of a garden, methodically digging holes and placing plants in the holes.  He walked slowly up to her while clearing his throat. He didn’t want to startle her so badly that she would excuse herself and disappear into the house before he had a chance to speak with her.

The woman turned to look at him. Her hair was golden in the sun, pulled back into a loose bun. A few strands fell into her eyes and she brushed them away absently with a gloved hand.  He was struck by how beautiful she was yet plain at the same time.  She wore no makeup but her skin was flawless with just a few lines around her eyes and mouth to show she was not a young maiden anymore.  Her eyes alternated between blue and green depending on how she turned her head. She blinked at him, as if for a moment she wasn’t sure there was actually someone there.

She apologized, saying that she had been lost in thought and hadn’t realized he was there. She said she hoped he hadn’t been standing there too long in the heat. He assured her he had not and told her there was no need to apologize.  She smiled a smile so radiant that for a minute he forgot his purpose. But the pain in his head started to make his eyes blur and he raised his left hand to massage his temple.  She noticed the movement and thought it was from the heat. She told him he should come in out of the sun and get something cool to drink before he fell down in a faint.  As she rose he noticed how graceful she was, as if gravity had no impact on her movements.  One strap of her sundress fell off her left shoulder and she left it there as she removed her garden gloves and tossed them on the ground next to the yet-to-be planted flowers.  His eyes fixated on the white line it had left on her tanned, smooth shoulder.

She motioned to him to follow her around to the back of the house where a large porch offered cool, shaded respite.  Pointing at a very comfortable looking rocker she told him to rest and she’d go inside and make some fresh lemonade. Again, she smiled that smile. He gulped and nodded. Words escaped him.  While she was in the house he looked around the yard. It was a well-manicured lawn bordered by tall cypress trees. In the middle of the yard was what looked like a bird-bath or sun-dial. He couldn’t be sure because the sun was glinting off of it, obscuring a clear view.  He noticed a hole in the cypress near the back of the lawn that looked like a doorway with a path that led beyond.  He couldn’t see beyond but it didn’t matter; he wasn’t here to admire landscaping.

A few minutes passed and she returned with a tray containing a large glass pitcher filled with what looked like the most refreshing lemonade he had ever seen.  There were two highballs and a plate of watermelon.  He hadn’t realized his throat was parched until he saw the lemonade. He removed his hat and brushed his hand through his thick, wavy black hair. He had been told he was handsome, which was helpful in his line of work.  She set the tray down on the table next to the rocker and walked around to the back of his chair. He started when she put her hands on his shoulders, suggesting that he remove his jacket as well or he’d get heat stroke.  Slowly she pulled his jacket down over his arms and pulled it from behind, folding it and laying it across the porch railing.  He rolled up his shirt sleeves, showing well-toned forearms.

She was smiling again and he couldn’t take his eyes off that smile.  As she poured them both some lemonade she made small talk about how this was the hottest summer she could remember and she could remember too many summers. She blushed when she said this, realizing she was giving away information about her age.  As she handed him the glass, their fingers brushed and he felt a tingle of electricity run through his system. He hadn’t felt that in a very long time. He lowered his eyes hoping she wouldn’t notice the brief moment of lust.  He knew that he better start on his pitch before he lost his nerve. It had been too long since his last sale and he really needed this one. In fact, one could say his life depended on it.

He put down his glass after drinking half of it in one gulp and then cleared his throat.  He steadied himself and his gaze and looked up at her. She sat there quietly and expectantly.  He found this odd since most people were suspicious of strangers coming around and were generally unfriendly to unsolicited sales.  He began his story by asking the woman if she was married. Again she blushed and lowered her eyes. He quickly said that what he had to sell was for men, that he wasn’t trying to flirt with her.  She smiled and looked up. “Yes, I am,” she replied. “I removed my ring before gardening so that I wouldn’t ruin it.”  He nodded understandingly and said that he had come across other women who had done the same which is why he always asked.

“Does your husband ever feel really tired when he gets home from work? Does it ever feel like he just doesn’t have enough energy to pay attention to you the way you would like?” he asked.

She nodded and lowered her eyes. Her smile had faded and he regretted having to ask these questions.  He leaned in and told her that he had something that would change things for her and make her life so much more exciting.  At this she looked up inquisitively, her eyes searching his face to see if he was telling her the truth.  He swallowed hard at that look and reached down to open his briefcase.  Inside was a little brown box filled with a white powder that looked as fine as talc.  Her interest piqued, she leaned in a little closer and he could smell the jasmine emanating from her hair.  For a minute he forgot why he was there but then she broke the silence by asking what it was that he had in the box.

“This,” he said, “is a miracle powder.  Half a spoonful of this in a drink before bed and he’ll be a changed man within a day or two!”

He went on to explain that it was tasteless and odourless so her husband wouldn’t suspect a thing.  She smiled widely and cupped her chin in her right palm as she rested her right elbow on her knee.  As she leaned over he could see a little more of her cleavage and the familiar electrical shock went through his system again.  He reminded himself that she was married and there was a higher and more important purpose for him to be here than ogling this woman.  Although he did consider that he could return here after a bit and reintroduce himself. 

She looked at him coyly and asked how much it cost.  He smiled his best smile and told her it was a bargain; that he only had this one left to sell and he wanted to be heading home so he could give her a deal.  This was a lie, of course. He had no home to which he could return.  It had disappeared a long time ago along with everyone and everything he had ever known.  He showed her the price tag and told her that he was willing to go as low as half the price. She sighed and furrowed her brow. It wasn’t the look people got when they couldn’t afford something; it was more the look people got when they couldn’t decide whether or not they wanted to do something. Afraid that he might lose the sale, he reached over with his right hand and took her left hand in his. It was petite and cool in his large, warm hand.  She glanced up and they locked eyes.  For a moment he wasn’t sure he could go through with it but then she suddenly said that she would very much like to purchase the powder. She withdrew her hand and stood up, telling him that she had to go inside to find the money that she had put aside for just such surprise gifts.  She whirled around so quickly that she created a jasmine scented breeze that kissed his rough skin so sweetly that he closed his eyes to try and memorize the moment.

She returned with the cash and they made the exchange. She thanked him profusely and said that his timing was impeccable as she was starting to worry about the state of her marriage. She said she had felt as though her husband was losing interest in her and that nothing was as she had dreamed it would be after marrying him.  She grasped his hand in both of hers and squeezed.

“But you really must go now because he will be home soon and although he has been a bit distant lately he can still be fiercely jealous,” she whispered in his ear. Her breath on his neck was almost too much for him to bear. He picked up his hat and coat, retrieved his now empty case and started down the stairs of the porch.  He began walking around the house but she stopped him and said she could hear a car approaching. He hadn’t heard anything but the urgency in her voice convinced him that she couldn’t be laying.  She hurried down the stairs and grabbed his arm.

“This way,” she said, “just follow the path at the end of the garden and it will bring you out to a road that leads straight into town.”

He realized she was pointing at the opening in the cypress trees that he had noticed earlier.  She told him he should hurry, that there was no time to waste.  He quickly made his way to the path and stepped through the cypress.  He was surprised to find himself in an orchard and noticed that it wasn’t as hot back here as it had been by the house.  He assumed this was because of the shade from the trees.  He looked around to ensure he was still on the path, and once satisfied that he was he began walking.  The day had turned out better than he had hoped.  The muscles in his legs and arms had started to diminish and he knew that one more day and he wouldn’t be able to stand up let alone walk.  His eyes were still somewhat blurry but he could still make out his way.

After what felt like a few hours he came upon a dirt road that was dusty and looked as though it hadn’t been traversed in quite some time.  As he stood there he realized that she hadn’t told him which way to go in order to reach the town. He looked in both directions and finally made out a house in the distance to the east, so he started in this direction. At the very least he could get directions.  The sun had started to wane behind him and his shadow grew long in front of him as he walked. It always amazed him that his shadow would show his true form even though no one else could see it.  He was lost in thought and didn’t notice the vehicle approaching him from behind until it was almost upon him. He jumped at the sound of the horn.  A rusty old Chevrolet pulled up beside him and the driver leaned over to the passenger side and looked at him carefully.  It was a young man with unruly red hair and a copious amount of freckles scattered on his face and arms.  The kid asked the salesman if he needed a ride and after the salesman acknowledged that a ride would be wonderful, the kid opened the passenger door from the inside.  The salesman climbed in and noticed a thick smell of tobacco and sweat.  The kid grinned and started moving the car forward again.  Neither spoke until they got closer to the house.

“Where ya headin’?” asked the kid. “Are ya headin’ into town? ‘Cause I’m goin’ there myself right now.”

The salesman nodded and they drove past the house.  The house was decrepit. It didn’t look as though anyone had lived there for quite some time.  There were shudders hanging loosely off the windows and they would no doubt be swinging in the wind if there had been one.  There was no front door anymore, just an open black doorway that made the house look like a face with a mouth agape in a never-ending scream.  A child’s wooden swing on a rope hung from a very large and very old oak tree.  The land around the house was overgrown with weeds and brush and through the brush he could see the hood of a vehicle.

They drove on for another half hour before the salesman could make out the outline of buildings and realized they were close to the town. He told the kid that he could drop him off anywhere along here. The kid looked at him with that same grin and said he’d drop him at the local inn.  As they drove into town the salesman noticed that there were quite a few vacant storefronts. The only businesses that he could see were open were a barber, a convenience store, a post office, and a bakery.  He realized this wasn’t the town he had passed through before his last sale; there were no churches in sight and very few people for that matter.

The kid turned a corner and pulled up to an old mansion that had been converted into an inn.  It was called Shadow Lane Inn.  The salesman got out and thanked the kid for the ride. He tried to offer him some money for gas but the kid waved it off and said it was just the hospitable thing to do for a stranger.   The s alesman stood there for a moment while the Chevy backed out of the drive and headed back the way he had come.  Turning, he looked up at the old stone house. It looked very inviting compared to the rest of the town and he walked confidently up the steps and through the big oak door that had a sign saying ‘Please walk in’.  The house was cool and smelled of cooking and flowers.  He realized that he was very hungry and was pleased that the inn also served food.  An old lady appeared out of a doorway and slowly made her way toward him.  He noticed she was slightly hunched and seemed to be in pain with every step. Arthritis, no doubt, he thought to himself.  She stopped in front of him and managed a small smile.

“Do you need a room?” she asked.

He confirmed that he did indeed require a room and that he was also interested in dinner if that was available.  She smiled again and said that he was in luck because dinner would be ready within the next half hour.  She took his arm and led him into a small room which held a desk and several filing cabinets.  Opening one of the desk drawers she pulled out an old key, the heavy kind from those very old locks that he thought were obsolete.  She handed it to him and told him that his room was the third door on the left as soon as he climbed the stairs. She told him that she would accompany him but that her arthritis was really acting up on her.  The salesman smiled charmingly and told her that she needn’t worry about him.  She shuffled out of the room and headed toward what he assumed was the kitchen.

He walked into the large foyer and looked up. It was a remarkable sight looking up through the staircase.  He was amazed at how many floors there were as the house hadn’t looked that big from the outside.  In fact, it looked cavernous from the inside.  He stopped counting the floors at five when he heard a screech from one of the rooms on the main floor.  As he made his way toward that door it suddenly opened and a young child skipped out.  She looked to be no more than ten years old.  The salesman asked if she was ok; he told her he had heard a scream but she just looked up at him innocently and smiled as she skipped away.  He looked back at the door that had closed behind her and grasped the handle but the door was locked and wouldn’t budge.  He put his ear to the oak door but he heard no noise from the other side.  Shaking his head he told himself that the child must have been playing and that sometimes their shrieks of fun can sound like shrieks of pain.

The salesman returned to the staircase and made his way up to his room.  The rug on the floor looked a little worn but overall the room was clean and inviting.  The large, four-poster bed was covered with an inviting looking down comforter and the four pillows looked like clouds.  There was an armoire in the corner that had a closet on one side and drawers on the other.  The long window was slightly ajar to let in what little breeze there was but even still the room felt cool.  There was an en suite with a pedestal sink, toilet, and claw-footed bathtub.  He noted ruefully that there was no shower but he figured a bath was better than nothing and at least he didn’t have to share the facilities with other boarders like at his last stop.  He hadn’t brought a valise with him because he wasn’t going to be staying long.  Oddly, the landlady hadn’t asked him about that. All of his other landlords had asked why he didn’t have any luggage and always regarded him suspiciously because of that.  He lay down on the bed and started to think back to how all of this had started.  He remembered the Civil War and how he had been in the deep south fighting for the north and Lincoln’s vision.  He remembered what it felt like to be pierced by the blade of the Southern soldier’s bayonet and how he had fallen face down into the mud and thought that if the wound didn’t kill him then drowning in the mud surely would.  He didn’t remember how he came to be in the old rundown cabin in the bayou but upon waking up he was amazed that he was still alive.  There had been a moment where he thought he might actually be dead but an old man had wandered in and started speaking to him in a way that cooled his blood and he knew that only someone alive could feel that much fear. 

The old man was angry and venomous.  He was missing most of his teeth and those that he still possessed were black and chipped.  His grey hair and beard were matted and greasy and the wrinkles in his face were so deep that he hardly looked human.  After ranting about a son that he had lost to the war he had pulled out a white powder. The salesman didn’t want to remember all of this but he couldn’t help it. Some memories just wouldn’t stay down.  The old man told him that he had laid a curse on the young northern soldier, a curse of immortality. The old man poured the white powder into a glass of water and drank it.  He started to deteriorate even more right in front of the young man’s eyes.  As he faded, the old man told him that the recipe for the white powder was on the table beside him.  He said that as the soldier would age he would also start to deteriorate and it would be painful beyond his worse imaginings.  The only way to stay the pain was to have another man ingest the powder and his life force would regenerate the soldier.  The salesman remembered thinking that he would never do that; that he would never murder another man just so that he could live.  However, as the years passed and the pain set in he found he could not tolerate it and every time he tried to kill himself he would wake up to intolerable pain.  He also found that he wasn’t aging which was a problem as his wife and children aged.  He had realized at that time that he had to start moving on and never stop long enough for anyone to notice.  The salesman sighed as he lamented his fate and let his mind drift to the beautiful woman he had met earlier that day.  He fantasized about what it would be like to be with her and considered that once her husband met his demise perhaps he would stop by to console her for a little while.  This cheered him slightly, when he heard a faint knock on his door.  He opened it and looked down upon the little girl he had seen earlier. She giggled and told him it was dinnertime. Turning to skip down the stairs she motioned for him to follow.

The salesman closed the door behind him and followed the child down the stairs and down a long corridor.  The corridor was dark, absent of any light apart from the light behind him.  At one point he put his hand on the wall to ensure he was walking straight. He could still hear the girl giggling when she opened another door, a sliver of light pouring over her.  She looked different somehow now, as if she was impatient and naughty.  She pointed into the room indicating that he should go in.  The salesman entered the room but couldn’t get a good look at it because the light shone in his eyes.  All at once he felt strong arms grab him from behind and another set of arms grab the bottom of his legs from the front and pull up so that he was pulled off his feet. He started to struggle but found that he couldn’t move much because the arms that held him were too strong. He was placed on a table and his limbs were secured with what felt like leather straps.  He cried out and asked what was going on but all he could make out were muffled whispers. 

As his eyes adjusted to the light he could make out five figures in the room, all wearing masks of some sort. The masks were gruesome, as if they had been skinned from actual people and donned as one would a Halloween mask.  He did notice that one of them was quite small and realized with horror that it was the little girl.  His mind was reeling, wondering what the point to all of this could be since he had no valuables with him.  A hunched figure made its way behind his head, the old lady no doubt, he thought with a mind that was trying to think too quickly.  She pulled a leather strap over his forehead and secured his head to the table so that he could not move.  There were more whispers and then they all left the room, turning off the bright fluorescent light that had been swinging like a pendulum above the table. He heard the door latch and footsteps leading away from the door.

As he lay in the dark he tried to determine what he had stumbled into and how he could escape.  It occurred to him that he might not escape and it also occurred to him that it might not be such a bad thing.  Since he had failed at taking his own life perhaps if someone else took it then he would remain dead.  He was surprised that this thought had not occurred to him over the years, but he was skeptical it would work anyway since he always regenerated and came alive again.  The only regret he had was that he wouldn’t be able to spend time with the lovely lady he had encountered earlier in the day.  He had no regret that her husband would die; from what she had said it seemed she would be better off with someone else.  At some point he drifted off to sleep and didn’t wake again until he felt a tugging on his clothes.  He woke groggily and had to squint because the light was on.  He realized that his clothes were being cut from his body and soon he was entirely naked and shivering on the table.

His eyes, finally adjusted to the light, noticed that all five figures had gathered around the table and were holding forks and knives.  They had removed their masks and he recognized the child, the old lady, and the freckled kid who had given him a ride to town.  As he turned his head to the left he saw, with horror, that it was the beautiful woman to whom he had sold the powder. She smiled sweetly at him as if they were still sitting on the porch drinking lemonade.  His throat was dry and he couldn’t speak but she started speaking instead.  She introduced the fourth figure, the only one he hadn’t recognized, as her husband. He was a tall, auburn haired man with perfect skin and that same charming smile.  She said they had been waiting a long time for someone to wander into their domain and they were very grateful for his sacrifice as it meant they could continue to live again.

With absolute dread he realized that he hadn’t been invited to dinner; he had been invited as dinner.  He also realized that while he had been sizing the woman up to sell her his powder she had been doing the same to him as to whether he would make a decent meal.  She had no intention of giving the powder to her husband.

As they all started in with their carving and growling and crunching and slurping he had a brief epiphany that this was perhaps the only way that he could find peace. He realized that there was no regenerating from this and he was indeed breathing his last breaths.  For a moment he was also grateful but only a very brief moment before he starting screeching in pain and fear.  It wasn’t long before the screeching stopped.  It wasn’t long before he finally found peace.

AZ451

 “How many times are we going to go over this?”

“How many times are we going to go over this, SIR”, barked the Staff Sgt.

The young constable shifted uncomfortably on the hard, wooden chair and kept his eyes on his hands folded on the table in front of him. He knew if he looked up the Staff Sgt. would see the anger in his eyes and maybe even be able to tell how much his young protégé despised him.

“What I mean, SIR, is that I’ve told you what happened at least 10 times. There is nothing else I can tell you,” responded the Constable wearily. They had been going at this for five hours.

The Staff Sgt. looked at Constable Sims with disdain. He hadn’t liked the look of this Constable the first time he saw him walk in from the Academy. The kid just looked like trouble, and Staff Sgt. Walker knew what trouble looked like. He had seen guys like this before…cocky, smart-ass, know-it-alls who thought that just because they got great grades at the Academy that they know all there is to know about policing.

“You’re going to tell me what happened until I have a report that doesn’t read like a campfire ghost story. I shouldn’t even have to be interviewing you right now. But your report is shit and I can’t allow it to be entered into record.” retorted Walker, his voice starting to become raspy after the pack of cigarettes he had knocked back since the interrogation started.

Sims looked up at the clock. Every time the second hand ticked by it made a loud audible clicking noise that was very unnerving. He wondered if these clocks were made specifically to do this for police interrogation rooms. It was 1 a.m. and it seemed as though the clicks were getting even louder. His head was pounding from missing dinner and the thick dark sludge that the office secretary liked to call coffee was making his stomach hurt.

Walker banged his large, calloused hands on the table in front of Sims face. Sims jumped and blinked.

“How does a cop get so many callouses on his hands?” asked Sims.

“What?” Walker blinked and stepped back. “What the hell are you rambling about? Concentrate, Constable! Back to the subject!” replied Walker.

“Ok,” said Sims, “one more time. But this is the last time. I won’t repeat it again.”

“At 13:10 this afternoon, November 23, I was on patrol on Forestry Rd. when I noticed an abandoned red, two-door Chevy pick-up truck, licence BITEME, with the driver’s door ajar.  I pulled up and stopped behind the truck and approached the driver’s side. The bed of the truck was empty except for a few busted up skids. There was no one in the truck. The keys were still in the ignition and there was a lunchbox on the passenger seat.

I walked around to the front of the vehicle and noticed that there was blood and matted fur on the grill.  The dent was really deep. The hood of the truck had caved in but the windshield was intact; it did not look as if he had hit a moose. I surmised that the driver had hit an animal which had then run off into the woods. It made sense that the driver may have been armed with a rifle and followed the animal to put it down.

I walked back to my cruiser and requested an owner ID for the truck.  The name came back as Mr. Cromwell, the Red Lake mechanic. He has a shop on Birks Dr. I called in my location and situation before going back to the truck to remove the keys, shut the door, and secure the truck.  I was concerned for the safety of Mr. Cromwell since he’s 72 yrs old and it was -18 with the wind chill.  I decided to follow his tracks in the snow. It looked as though whatever he had hit must have been significantly injured because there was quite a bit of blood and matted fur along the path as well.  It also looked as though whatever it was had been dragging one leg.

I walked for approximately 1.2 km when the tracks suddenly stopped. Both set of tracks and the blood trail just ended. There was no sign of a struggle and no sign that either the injured animal or Mr. Cromwell had walked off in a different direction. They had not back-tracked or else I would have seen them. There was no point in going further without a trail so I returned to my cruiser and decided to come back to the station to get a search party together.  I returned to the station at 15:30.”

“Sir, I don’t understand why this report is unacceptable. It contains all the facts.”

Walker looked at Sims, narrowed his eyes and leaned in closer to him while keeping his hands off the table. “It’s unacceptable,” responded Walker as though he were speaking to a three year old, “because tracks don’t just end. They may end if there is a body or a carcass there, or if there is a stream, or if there were rocks and no prints. But tracks in snow don’t just END.” Walker sat back and ran his right hand through his thick mane of white hair while he shut his eyes and sighed.

Sims remained quiet. He had nothing more to say. He had offered to escort the Staff Sgt. to the site but the Staff Sgt. had said he had more important things to do than indulge newbies in their pranks. Walker was familiar with new recruits who would get bored or just cabin fever during their first winter in Red Lake. They either purposely played pranks on each other or began to imagine the most unusual experiences.

Walker was tired too. This little exercise with Sims would have ended a lot sooner if not for the fact that not only was Cromwell still missing but the two men who had volunteered to search for him had also gone missing. Darkness fell early in Red Lake in the winter so the men only had an hour and a half to do a quick search of the perimeter. They were experienced rangers who happened to still be in town after arriving to provide winter survival training to the three new recruits who had arrived in Red Lake six months before. Walker was beginning to regret not accepting Sims’ invitation to visit the site immediately. He was wondering if it was time for a transfer.  Complacency was a very dangerous thing for a cop to experience but becoming skeptical of the facts just because they didn’t make immediate sense was even more dangerous.

“Ok, Sims. We’re done here tonight. Go home and get some sleep. Be back here by 08:00 tomorrow.”

The constable slowly rose while keeping his eyes on the Staff Sgt. He had heard stories about how new recruits could never quite be sure what other officers may do to keep the recruits vigilant. For all he knew, this could be a test and the Staff Sgt. was waiting for him to volunteer to stay until the disappearances were resolved.

Walker sensed the constable’s trepidation and chuckled. It felt good to know he still had the power to keep his officers on their toes. He could see Sims stop and look at him with a suspicious sideways glance.

“And Sims…I have calloused hands because I chop my own firewood. I don’t buy it from the old lady on the shore like the rest of you. If you knew where she got her wood, neither would you. I’d be willing to bet that once your two years is up here you’ll be heading south again so it’s no big deal to you.”

Sims looked at Walker curiously. He was shocked that Walker had shared the reason for the callouses. In the first speech Walker gave the recruits when they arrived he had insured they understood who made the decisions and that those decisions were final. He had also made it clear that he didn’t have to explain himself to anyone and wasn’t interested in getting to know any of the recruits on a personal level; everything was to remain professional.

Sims was especially interested in why Walker would slip up by saying something cryptic about firewood, especially after his comment about the report sounding like a ghost story. He exited the interrogation room and walked to the lunch room to rinse out his coffee cup. He knew that if he left it for morning the coffee residue would be impossible to remove. He also made a mental note to start making the coffee himself.  The station wasn’t large; there were two offices, a lunch room, a reception, the interrogation room, the locker/evidence room, the weapons/ammunition room, and three cells. During the night shift it was deathly quiet. The cells happened to be empty and the only lights on were in the reception, the interrogation room, and now the lunch room.

By the time Sims reached the reception Walker was already there waiting for him. Marley, the town’s drunk, or at least one of the town’s drunks, had stumbled in and was sitting on the scuffed green linoleum floor, hugging his arms tightly around himself while rocking from side to side. Walker looked at Sims and rolled his eyes.

“Ok, Marley, need a warm bed to sleep in tonight?” said Walker as he walked around the counter toward the scruffy man in three layers of torn clothing. “It’s your lucky night, we happen to have a vacancy.” 

Suddenly Walker stopped and put his right hand on his sidearm. As soon as he did this, Sims did the same. Walker began to back up slowly while keeping his eyes on the old man on the floor. The Staff Sgt. wasn’t a burly man but he was fit. At 6’2” he towered over most of the people in town and his thick torso, arms, and legs denoted a man who would be hard to take down let alone defeat. It seemed odd to Sims that Walker should be acting overly wary about a short, malnourished old man who was high most of the time on moonshine.

Without taking his eyes off Marley, Walker motioned to Sims to move around behind the old man and hold his position. Sims did so, without question. As he got closer he was able to see what had caused Walker to become so alert.  There was matted blood in the old man’s beard and hair.  His eyes were transfixed on some invisible subject and he was whining unintelligible words under his breath. The shoe on his right foot was torn on one side so that the sole would flap when he tried to walk but the other foot was shoeless. The sock on his left foot was drenched in blood but his foot seemed to be intact.

“Marley!” shouted Walker, trying to shock the man out of his reverie. “Hey. Marley!” But the old drunk didn’t even blink let alone look up.  Walker looked at Sims and shrugged. Sims shrugged back.

“Listen Marley,” said Walker loudly, “you can’t stay on the floor like that. We have to move you into a cell so that you can sit on a bed instead of the cold floor.  Myself and Constable Sims are going to get closer to you and help you stand up. Do you understand?”  No response.  “Marley, I don’t want you to make any sudden moves or try to resist or someone might get hurt. We don’t want anyone to get hurt tonight. We all know how the Doc gets cranky when he’s called out of bed on a cold winter night.”

Still no response from the rocking sack of clothes on the floor.  Walker nodded to Sims and they both started to slowly advance toward the man. To their relief he did not struggle but only stood up when each of them put a hand under each elbow.   They walked him slowly back to the first cell and sat him on the bed.  From here they could get a better look at him to see if he was injured and needed medical attention.  Neither officer could find a wound that would account for the blood.  They gently laid him on his back, left the cell, and secured the lock.  The old man lay in his bed, still rocking and mumbling while his glassy eyes remained transfixed on the ceiling.

“Do you think we should call the Doc?” asked Sims.

“No,” said Walker quietly, and then turned to go into one of the offices.

“But, sir…”

“Sims, I said no. Go get the mop and wash up those bloody footprints.”

Walker switched on the light and walked toward a door at the back of the room. Sims stood in the doorway of the office. From there he could see reception as well as the cell. All thoughts of going home to bed were forgotten.  The blood in the old man’s beard and hair had made him think of Cromwell’s truck. Sims was a third generation cop. One thing he remembered his dad and grandfather always saying was that there were no coincidences. Red Lake especially didn’t have odd coincidences where blood was involved. There was always a victim and there was always a cause…usually some angry logger who just got paid and spent nearly his entire paycheque on booze.

Walker pulled a wad of keys out of his pocket and singled out an odd looking one which he used to unlock the door. In the small closet there was only a filing cabinet with four unmarked drawers. Walker opened the one second to the bottom and pulled out a thick file. Sims turned toward the utility closet to retrieve the mop and bucket. It was at that moment that all three lines on the phone started ringing. The sound made both officers jump. They hadn’t realized just how quiet it was until the shrill bell of the phones sounded. Sims ran to the reception and answered the first call while Walker answered the second. They alternated like this for 45 minutes until finally Walker approached Sims and motioned for him to end the call then put all lines so that they would go to voicemail.

“What the hell!” asked Sims incredulously. “I’m getting calls from all over town about strange noises on roofs, dogs going missing, and one crazy dude who’s pissed that his satellite dish was knocked down. I’ve checked the weather but there are no wind warnings. And as for dogs…well, sometimes they take off when they smell prey.”

“I’m getting the same calls. Except there is one that is more serious and we have to go check it out in person. Mrs. Worley called and said her husband went out to check on their dog a half hour ago but hasn’t returned. She’s called all the neighbours but no one has seen him. She said he wasn’t dressed to be out in the cold this long and she can’t leave the babies to go looking for him.”

Sims sighed and both men went to get their gear.  The animosity they had felt toward each other earlier in the evening was all but forgotten. Not only did they dress for the drop in temperature to -28 they also retrieved the kit that they had been using when the survival instructors had been teaching them recovery techniques.

“Call Thoms, Healey, Reilly, and Norris to come in. All hands on deck tonight.” Instructed Walker.

“What about Sally?” asked Sims.

“Not necessary. We may need her tomorrow for coordination but for tonight let’s stick to officers.”

Sims made the calls quickly and briefly relayed the message that they were going on a possible search and rescue. He ensured they were aware Marley was in the cell and that the office would be locked after they left so the Constables were to all bring their keys since they didn’t know who would get there first.  When they asked why the whole staff was being called in Sims simply told them that they would have to wait on a report until after he and Walker returned.  The officers didn’t argue. Everyone knew that time was essential in this weather when searching for someone.

Walker and Sims exited the building, securing the door behind them.  The wind bit at their exposed skin.

Snow swirled up in wintry dervishes, whipping it around in unexpected directions. Both men made their way to the 4X4 all-terrain vehicle they used for off-road assignments and climbed in.  It felt like a freezer but the engine turned over easily and the interior heated up quickly.   Walker drove as Sims kept a keen eye open for any sign of movement along the route.  It took them only ten minutes to reach the Worley house and on the way all had been dark with no sign of life except the odd light on in a window.

As the officers walked towards the house the door burst open and 5-year-old Hailey came running out, crying and screaming. Her Little Mermaid pajamas were covered in blood and her eyes were big, round, and unblinking. Walker looked back at Sims who nodded, scooped up the trembling little girl, and whisked her to the truck as Walker pulled out his sidearm and advanced to the front door.  He barely stepped into the foyer when the smell hit him.  It was a musty smell mixed with blood and the smell of freshly baked cookies.  The living room was empty and the tv was showing an infomercial, the typical thing people watch when they can’t sleep.  Only one lamp was lit.  He moved to the kitchen and saw the cookies that Mrs. Worley had been baking still on the baking pan while they cooled. He knew Becky Worley well, he had delivered the little bundle that was out in the truck when Becky went into labour while the Doc was out in the bush attending to an industrial accident. He knew that Becky baked when she was really worried. Walker turned his attention to the hallway that led to the bedrooms. He was filled with dread, thinking about what he might find.  There were still two children unaccounted for as well as their mother, not to mention the father who was MIA.

As Sims sat in the truck holding Hailey her wails tapered off to a pitiful whining sound as she sucked her thumb. He was about to say something comforting to her when he saw Walker come stumbling out the front door and vomit on the closest bush. He heaved two more times and then tried to stand up. Sims could tell that Walker was labouring just to stand upright.  The sight of his commanding officer in this state was unnerving and Sims could feel a bit of panic start to weasel its way into his already confused mind but when Walker marched over to the truck and climbed in he had the air of authority he had always portrayed and Sims immediately chided himself for doubting the Staff Sgt.

Walker slammed the door closed and started the truck without saying a word or even looking over at Sims.  He quickly backed out of the drive and started heading toward the station.  Sims knew better than to ask why they weren’t going to look for Mr. Worley or where the rest of this little girl’s family was but most especially he knew better than to ask what had made Walker puke his guts out on the front lawn of the Morley home.

Final Police Report by Staff Sgt. Mark Walker

November 25

It is 16:15 on Nov. 25 and I’m the only one left to leave a report. The past two days have been hell. The population of the area before Nov. 23 was over 4,200 souls. This morning, as I patrolled, I found two other people besides myself. By noon, they were gone.  I’m sure by this time tomorrow I’ll be gone too.

In fact, I can hear them coming. That soft sound like flags flying in the wind. So soothing if you didn’t know what it was. But I know what it is. I know what they are. There is nothing soothing about them.

Thoms and Norris shot each other. Friendly fire. The thing was between them but when they fired at it the thing took flight.  Healey died trying to save 150 children locked in the library. Someone panicked and knocked a candle over. The screams were unbearable and drove us all mad but we couldn’t reach them, they had chained the doors from the inside. The staff and teachers thought it would be safer. Safer. We broke some windows trying to get in but that only fuelled the fire and made it worse. It was over in 4 minutes. The longest 4 minutes of my life. Reilly deserted. Or I should say, tried to run. He didn’t get far. He got as far as the corner and then we could hear his screams echoing. We weren’t entirely sure he was dead until we found his arm in the parking lot, his torso on the top of the SUV, and his head…well, what was left of his head, in a bush around the corner from the station.

Sims and I seemed to make a good team. I was wrong about that young man when he showed up here. Turns out he was more like me than I cared to admit. We managed to rescue 1300 people and gather them in the rec centre where there are few windows and a strong cement structure. Once we had deputized a few of the men who were still coherent and able to maintain order, Sims and I started searching for survivors door-to-door. But it was always the same. Dismembered bodies, flesh eaten off most pieces. Blood. Lots of blood. And that sound. That maddening soft swooshing sound.

While we were getting food and other supplies at the FoodMart we heard the explosions. The first explosion shattered the windows in the FoodMart. We ran toward the recreation centre but before we got there we heard two more explosions. By the time we arrived there was nothing left of the building. There were charred bodies in the parking lot. We found no survivors.

I can hear them outside again. I know they’re waiting for me. It’s all the fault of that damned old woman. She was warned about not taking wood from that area of the forest. She just wouldn’t listen.  I hope she was the first to go, even before Cromwell. It would serve her right. There are lots of bodies we didn’t find but no one could have survived the storm yesterday without shelter.

Sims. A brave young man. He died this morning. He died while taking one of those monsters down with him. We had a plan but something went wrong. We waited for that soft noise, the sound that always precedes the carnage and screams and devastation. We waited for them, waited to ambush them. We finally saw them. There were only five of them. Only five! Only five had completely destroyed the town and killed all those people. It was hard to see them. In the reflection off the snow they almost looked like they were optical illusions and they were graceful. Graceful! I hate myself for even writing that.

Their bodies were fat and round. They didn’t look like they should be able to fly or stay aloft. They looked heavy but when they landed they made no sound. They had four legs that held claws sharper than any talons I’ve ever seen. The claws were able to peel back the metal on a car as though they were easily opening a can for dinner. I guess they were. Having dinner. Their wings were white as well. I thought I could see feathers but Sims said he thought they were like leather. Their heads looked like a spider with eyes all over it. Sims thought they looked like birds. Before I could stop him he ran at one of them and started shooting with his Glock. He was able to mortally wound one and the others turned on it savagely but then one saw Sims. He was gone in less than a minute. Totally ripped apart.

That’s not how I want to die. I have written this account so that there is a record of events. I can’t wait for help to come. I can hear them outside now, clawing at the walls and the roof. I can hear them. They mock me. I have saved one bullet. I’m going to use it now.

Official Report by Canadian Armed Forces

Military Police

Arrived November 30, 0700 hrs by air.  Perimeter has been secured and no civilians will be allowed access.  All military personnel are required to wear HAZMAT gear and maintain a high level of alert at all times.

A complete sweep of all structures and surrounding environment has yielded multiple human and non-human casualties. Identification of humans will be difficult and in some cases impossible. A makeshift morgue has been set up 2 km east of the town.  Non-human casualties identified as dogs, cats, birds, and other possible household pets as well as numerous deer, moose, and rabbits.

Only one male victim has been located intact. All other casualties have been dismembered, burned, de-gloved, and/or disemboweled. There is no source of power for electricity, water, or communication. First observation yields evidence of sabotage.

Male victim intact looks to have died from a single gunshot wound to the head. A laptop has been recovered with what seems to be a final dissertation by the lone deceased male.

Confidential Report

Classified

Unauthorized distribution of AZ451 has resulted in mass casualties in northern Ontario.  Disciplinary action has been taken against offending parties.

While the incident was unfortunate we now have data on how AZ451 will work on the human psyche.  It was released and distributed as an airborne substance and inhaled by human and non-human subjects. Preliminary results show no effect on non-human subjects. Preliminary results show extreme aggression and increased strength resulted in human subjects attacking each other without prejudice.

Upon further examination of journals and notes left by some of the subjects, the results were not the same for all subjects. Some subjects became the aggressors while others became delusional victims. Notes indicate victims and aggressors believed they saw creatures attacking them and their families. Descriptions ranged from flying creatures with talons or claws or hooves. The heads of the creatures ranged from spiders to birds to wolves.  Some creatures were described as slithering or bounding as well as flying.

Final male victim suffered delusions only.

Soil, plant, and water samples are all clear of AZ451.

Conclusion: AZ451 is a viable biological weapon in highly populated urban areas. It will leave the natural environment unharmed and uncontaminated.