It doesn’t matter if your subject uses misdirection like a magician, or wears a monster suit and uses local folklore. The longer the trick, the easier it is to leave evidence. The road continued to wind around another bend a dozen meters past the Ferguson house. Following the tracks along the road past several houses, I finally felt isolated enough to talk freely and let down my guard. All I could hear were the crunching gravel rocks underfoot and a few distant birds on the wind through the treetops. Veronica slipped on the gravel staggering and sputtering.
“You know we can’t deal with this right now.” I said.
“No, you can’t deal with this. You’ve never been straight with me about anything.” Maybe Alison was right, maybe I was getting reckless.
“And you are?”
“Of course.” She threw up her hands and marched ahead, following the fraudulent monster tracks on the shoulder of the road. “At least there’s always the chance that someone will put me out of my misery.”
“Veronica.” I deflated. She was never going to cut me any slack. I noticed the disappearance of the tracks, and walked back to where I last saw them. As I was tracing the path, the large footprints stopped abruptly.
“Now what?”
“Ah.” I announced, finding a boot print several feet away from the last track in the loose gravel. Veronica came over to examine my find.
“I take it back, I guess he did find some arch support.”
“Maybe he’s tired of going the hobbit route.” I stood and stretched, looking up and down the road. Where was the stalker headed? This distance meant significant pre-planning.
“What sort of sick freak is this guy?” She adjusted her jacket, letting her attitude subside.
“The dangerous sort.” I walked past her to another track several strides away. “But who? And Why?”
“More like, what do we do when we find them?” She followed, making sure to only step in the packed gravel tire tracks.
“One question at a time, my dear.” My grin was met with a furrowed brow. I resumed following the tracks in the loose gravel when a loud rumble grabbed my attention. I lifted my eyes to see an old junk van speeding at us. I took her hand and we jumped into the ditch just as the van raced past. The man driving shook his fist at us. Coughing, I waved at the dust.
“Thank you, Ernest.” Veronica coughed.
“Love rural hospitality.” I helped her step up and out of the ditch. She pushed up the sleeves of her jacket, moving away from me.
“What are the chances that our Bigfoot would live in a junkyard?” Veronica pointed through the trees ahead at a gravel driveway filled with scavenged vehicles and various bits of junk. A ramshackle clapboard building overlooked the driveway and unkempt property.
“Yeah, wouldn’t bet against it.”
“You’re no fun.” She started walking up the driveway. I slowed my pace and paused when I realized that I had lost the tracks again. A gunshot rang out, and Veronica dropped.
“Veronica!” She collapsed into a heap in my arms, blood pouring from a dark spot on her chest. She gasped, and more blood flowed from her mouth. As she breathed, she made a ragged wheezing sound. A lung? “No you don’t, it’s-it’s going to be okay.” After gently laying her on the ground, I pulled off my coat and yanked off my shirt. I wadded up the shirt to use as a bandage and pressed it on the wound. It was stained black in a couple of breaths. She was going to die if I didn’t get her help.
Once more, I was saving someone I cared about from a lethal wound. Veronica gasped, gargling blood as she clawed at me. I tried my best to keep my emotions in check, but I couldn’t keep the fear from my eyes as I watched her die. Holding the bandage tight on her chest only made her cough out more blood. I caressed her cheek, streaking it with blood.
“You’re going to be fine.” Crying, she stretched a hand up to my face. “I know sweetie, you’re going to be fine. You’re going to be alright.” My voice cracked, watching the tears rolling down her cheeks. “You’re going to fine. We’re going to find our answers together, remember?” She coughed up more blood. “You can’t just leave, I won’t let you.” I stroked her face, streaking her bangs with blood.
“You get out of here!” A man shouted.
“You shot her!” Focusing on my blood-drenched hands, the pain overwhelmed me. I couldn’t take it anymore.
“You get!” The man shouted.
“Murderer!” I jumped up in anger, and another shot rang out. A sharp pain caught me in the shoulder and planted me face first in the dirt next to Veronica. My own blood poured out of a hole in my shoulder to mix with the gravel dust and sweat on my skin.
I lost my brother Alex, failed to protect Alison, finding her lying bleeding to death on the floor of her mother’s apartment, watched Jessica die in my arms and now Veronica. I could feel the blood on my hands. Light footsteps moved closer until a figure stooped next to us. I heard a laugh that made me lift my head. I saw Veronica coughing through a few more ragged breaths, and our visitor just out of sight above our heads.
“You can be pretty dense,” Jess sighed, making me recoil.
“Connor?” Veronica touched my shoulder. The entire scene was gone with the shake of my head. She had just walked up to me near the second junk car in the driveway when I stopped. Relief and fear switched in an instant. I lunged, knocking her down.
“Down!” I shouted as a gunshot rang out, and the shot impacted the tree where she had been standing. We scrambled over to a stranded junk car on blocks.
“How did they find us?” Veronica leaned back against the rusting car next to me. Heart pounding with a mix of fear and adrenaline, I shook off my initial relief at seeing Veronica alive. I still couldn’t shake the image of her bleeding to death.
“Did you hear where it came from?” I attempted to look over the car, but a second shot deterred me.
“At least we’re on the right side.” Veronica leaned her head back against the car.
“One good thing.”
“What is it with people shooting at you? Are you the prince of darkness? Do you even have friends?” she complained, but kept her head down.
“Got to have a goal in life.” Smirking, I looked for something to change our situation. Soldiers are trained to identify opportunities in combat that can provide a tactical advantage.
“You kids get off my property now!” an old gruff voice shouted. “You’re going to have to find someplace else to bed down. And if you’re thinking of stealing something or vandalizing my property, better know I’ve got plenty of rounds.” That was one such opportunity.
“Sir, we’re not here for any of that. We just came to ask you a few questions,” I shouted over the car to points beyond. Maybe it wasn’t our sniper.
“I’m not taking any papers or doing any surveys either, so you’d just better leave if you know what’s good for you.” The old man fired off another round causing the driver’s door mirror to erupt in a shower of glass and plastic. I pulled her close and covered her head as the debris rained down on us.
“No, we’re here about the demon!” I shouted over the rifle echo.
“What?”
“The demon! We’re here to ask about the demon!” I checked Veronica. “You okay?” She nodded.
“Why didn’t you say so?” The old man suddenly adopted a friendly tone. Letting out a sigh, I sank against the broken car.
“Lunatic.” Veronica cursed under her breath. As the shuffling footsteps approached, I stood and shook the debris from my coat.
The old man was balding with short silver and black hair. His clothes were a ragged mess of jeans, blue flannel shirt and a pair of brown work boots caked with mud. In his hands lay a large caliber, lever-action hunting rifle. An eager grin spread across his clean sun-baked face. Veronica rose up beside me glaring at the old man and brushing bits of glass and plastic from her silk blonde hair.
“We’re here to ask you about the demon.” I took off my sunglasses. Most subjects are unwilling to share information with an investigator, so you learn to be adaptable. Whether you’re posing as a security consultant or a lost tourist, how you present yourself determines the information you can gather from your target. You need to choose your cover wisely.
“You reporters?” The old man looked us over, assessing our appearance and choice of attire. Then there are times when you’re handed an identity.
“Yes, sir, we are,” Veronica bluffed, flipping out her jacket and causing bits of debris to sprinkle on the car.
“Well, sorry about that. I’ve had kids breaking and stealing stuff.” The old man opened the breech on the rifle ejecting the last round. “I’m Justin Boggs.” He extended his hand over the corner of the car.
“Michael Blackwell, WKBH Boston.” I handed him a station business card and turned on a city accent. “And I’m sure you recognize Jamie Sinclair.” I nodded to her. There are advantages to posing as a reporter, the greatest being recognition. People always recognize TV reporters but if you ask someone to identify a reporter, it’s a different story.
“I sure do.” He smiled at her. “Even more pretty in person, Miss.” Veronica brushed the wrinkles out of her skirt and faked a smile.
“Sir, I must say that was kind of dangerous.” She laid on a thick Boston accent. “We could’ve been injured.”
“Nah, I haven’t missed anything since I got my glasses.” I glanced at Veronica. Her frown meant she noticed the same thing I had. The man wasn’t wearing any glasses.
“Anyhow,” I started again. “We heard some rumors about this creature and the station sent us out to see if it’s good for a local piece.”
“Where’s your van?” The old man looked around.
“We got a flat back by the Ferguson place. Mike thought it would be quicker to walk and scout the area.” She brushed out her clothes again.
“Oh.” The old man nodded. “I saw you walking and thought you were some more local brats.” The man picked up the spent shell casing as we stepped around the corner of the car. “They’re always giving me trouble.”
“It sounds like it.” Veronica straightened her skirt and slipped on her sunglasses after cleaning them.
“So, Mister Boggs, what can you tell us about this demon?”
“Not very good clothes for around here.” The old man fixated on her legs.
“I know.” She shrugged uncomfortably. “Originally, we didn’t plan on walking so far.” She crossed her arms. “I think I’m going to see if I get a different producer next time.”
“Mister Boggs.” I drew his attention away from her.
“Please, Justin or just Boggs. No mister.”
“Okay, Boggs. What can you tell us about this creature, this demon?” I took out my recorder for the interview. “Do you mind if I record?”
“Not at all.” He watched me set the small recorder on the roof of the car.
“I’ll check for the tracks,” Veronica whispered to me.
“Right,” I agreed with barely a breath. She walked toward the road before turning back and walking up the driveway past me.
“What’s she doing?” The old man’s eyes watched her closely.
“Looking for the best spot for an interview when we bring the cameras back,” Veronica called out without missing a beat.
“She’s always picky about her shots.” I lowered my voice. The old man smiled and nodded without taking his eyes off of her. “Boggs.”
“Huh?”
“What can you tell me about this demon?”
“Oh, the demon. You came to the right place.”
“How long have you known of it?”
“Ever since I’ve lived here.”
“How long is that?”
“More than thirty years.”
“So, when did you first see it?”
“Oh, I don’t know. It must have been about the time I moved in. I was coming home late at night driving on this very road when I saw something a few yards ahead of me in the lights. It looked like a man walking across the road but as I got closer it looked at me. Big red eyes stared at me and it gave me a chill that ran right through me. In God’s name, I spoke a prayer and I can tell you I was afraid. The thing walked all funny and crossed the road in two steps.”
“Can you describe what it looks like specifically?” I noticed Veronica disappear from view somewhere behind the home.
“Sure, it’s covered in black fur like a shadow, tall, I’d say about eight to nine feet and it walks upright like a man. Its arms are kind of long and do this weird thing at the elbow.”
“Weird how?”
“It’s kind of hard to explain. Well, anyway it walks with this weird gate and it seems like it must weigh five of six hundred pounds.”
“Big, what are its behaviors like?”
“You mean, what’s it do?”
“Sure.”
“Well, it usually is just passing through and don’t care what we do. Other times it will rut through the trash for food and peer in windows almost as if it was wondering what we were doing.”
“Is it aggressive or does it tend to avoid people?”
“Most of the time it tries to avoid folk but it has chased hunters before. Like this one time, Jim and me were hunting and we heard it behinds us. Noises moving through the bush and a low grunt. We ran and it ran after us. We didn’t get a chance to see it but we heard it snapping through the brush after us, let me tell you, we didn’t go hunting again in that area. And another time, the Williams girl was parked with her boyfriend up on Elliot when it attacked their car, knocking it back n forth until they drove off. And it lets you know when you’re on his land too.”
“How so?”
“You’ll feel its eyes on you and if you don’t leave he’ll start chucking rocks at the trees around you.” It sounded too exact, too perfect.
“Has anyone ever gotten close?”
“Not that I’ve heard, but usually anyone with any sense at all takes off in the other direction when they hear it.”
“Hear it?”
“Yeah, makes these weird chattering sounds and a sort of clicking noise. In the distance, you can hear it some nights howling that sounds like some sort of siren wail. Sends chills down your spine when you hear it.”
“Have you seen it recently?” I spotted a glimpse of movement out of the corner of my eye. I could finally stop listening to the nut.
“Sure did, just the other night.”
“Where?”
“Right here! It marched itself right through my yard without so much as a pause or anything.” Misdirection? Either this man was the stalker or the stalker passed through here to lead people to him. Could the stalker be that creative?
“Have you considered shooting it?”
“Land sakes, no! Something that big, I don’t want to take a chance. I’m not even sure a shot would do anything to it. It is some kind of demon.”
“Point taken. Have you collected any evidence of it? Pictures? Footprints? Anything?”
“Never had a camera handy and never thought about saving any of its tracks.”
“Well, it would be very beneficial to everyone if you obtain anything even hair samples.”
“Found the perfect spot up back.” Veronica jerked a thumb behind her at the house. I switched off the recorder and dropped it into my coat. “Want to run back and grab the camera?”
“Sure thing.” I gave the man a nod and turned to follow Veronica down the driveway as she slipped off her sunglasses to hang on the front of her shirt.
“You want me to wait here?”
“Mike has got to fix the flat first, so it could be a bit,” Veronica called back. She was rigidly graceful, putting on the best celebrity-guise she could with the gravel crunching under foot. Continuing back toward the Ferguson house, we remained silent until I was satisfied the old man couldn’t hear or see us.
I caught her wrist forcing her to face me. I almost lost her. I gave her a light kiss and released her. She looked startled, but in a breath she was in my arms and we were lost in the moment. She broke the kiss first and put some space between us. We stared at each other in silence. What had we just done? I cleared my throat.
“What did you find?”
“Huh?” We started walking again. “Oh, the tracks went around behind the house, same boot prints as the ones in the road. Thing is, it looked like they might’ve continued away from his place.”
“So, it’s either him or someone else using him.”
“Uh-huh.” She touched her lips watching the ground. I probably just made things worse with her.