#hw201

“You just need to keep an eye on the property. The City owns most of this place and they have pretty shallow pockets if you know what I mean. We put almost every other staff member on sabbatical. For the most part, it’s just you and the night shifter.”  

Emily nodded along like she understood and let the rest of the ride go as smoothly as possible until an old cabin came into view. It looked dusty; it’s wood paneling enveloped in the thick forest. There was an old grill and a hammock that had been wrapped inside of itself. The engine cut off entirely, and it made her ears ring.

She could smell the water, and hear the river trickling somewhere west of the structure. Chloe hoisted the one duffel bag out of the backseat and reached with her other hand for the rifle that Emily hadn’t known was there. She had never fired one off before, but that was one of the formalities that she blurred to get this position in the first place.

Her boots crunched on the gravel and she minded her weight on the creaking steps leading to the cabin door more than Chloe did. The door had been painted red at one time, a bloody-pulpy color that had faded away. There were sets of long scratches against the remaining color. Emily moved the pads of her fingers against the gashes and felt a chill run up her arm.

“What made these?” She asked. Chloe glanced up from her task of finding the keys to the cabin. Her crystal eyes reflected green under the trees. She narrowed them and finally grabbed hold of her prize.

“All sorts of animals out on Greer Island. Some of them are more curious than others.” She shoved the rifle into Emily’s hands. It was weighty and smelled old. “That’s why you have this.”

Whatever- free room and board. She could deal with a couple of bears and some daring deer. It was better than the cheap motel room and the scratchy sheets. It was a much better improvement than the backseat of her Toyota. She followed Chloe into the cabin.

A thin layer of dust covered the entire place; there was an old plaid couch and a matching chair that sat adjacent to the grey stone fireplace. A bookshelf devoid of much reading material was pushed against a far wall below a taxidermy bison that looked like it was missing an eye. The place had an open floor plan and lead directly into the kitchen. There were two closed doors that held firmly onto that crimson color.

Chloe set the duffel bag down with a loud thud, Emily felt her fingers clench around the barrel of the gun and her shoulders edge up to her ears. She stifled a profanity and took a few more steps into the little cabin.

“The fridge is fully stocked.” She continued, “I’m out here once a month to restock everything for you. There isn’t much service, but there is a walkie-talkie in the bottom right drawer that has enough power to get to the main cabin. If it’s storming, that’s not the case.”

Emily nodded again and tried to comprehend the quick instructions. Chloe talked too fast, she decided. But she listened eagerly. “What do I do if it storms?”

“Either use that gun or run like hell. You can try both but” Chloe frowned and ran her finger over the edge of the rickety kitchen table and picked up a layer of dirt. “Christ this place is dusty. Anyway, you have four patrols around the lake each day. It takes an hour for each one. Between them, you can do whatever you want except for swim in the water. That’s how you catch something nasty.”

“What exactly am I looking for?”

Chloe shrugged “Anything out of the ordinary. If you see people fishing make sure you check for their license. The date of expiration is on the top right corner. If they’re expired, ask them to leave and radio into the main cabin so they can keep their eyes peeled.”

“Ok.”

“And whatever you do, make sure you finish your last patrol before dark. The sun sets around Six right now but it’ll change to five soon enough. Make sure you have enough firewood and lock the door. Don’t open it until your morning patrol.”

“Ok,” She dragged the word out this time. Something about Chloe’s change in demeanor made her itch uncomfortably. There was a stillness to the air. “Sounds simple enough.”

“Like I said, not too taxing, you can get some writing done up here, I’m sure.” She was beaming again, like the desolate nature of her words hadn’t weighed so heavily on the atmosphere. She dusted her hands off on her jeans and informed Emily that her uniform was in the closet (Which she learned was the door to the left).

“Oh, and Emily?”  

“Yeah, boss?”

Chloe was standing with her hand on the door. She left the metal key they used to enter on the table on the clear spot that was wiped away earlier. Her eyes were that dark and stormy blue again. “Whatever calls to you in the middle of the night ignore it. It’s not real.”

Emily didn’t sleep well that night, despite the four-post bed being the closest thing she’s felt too comfortable in months. Chloe’s words weighed heavily on her, and she locked the three deadbolts that she hadn’t noticed before. She had located the radio and kept that on the nightstand until she fell into a fitful slumber.

The sun rose right at six and her alarm started blaring. She slid on the jacket with Lake Worth’s logo on the breast and the sleeve before following the clearly marked trail towards the water. It was a simple walk and it was too early for her to spot anyone fishing.

She ended up back at the cabin at 7:30 and collapsed in a cold heap on the dusty couch. It was oddly silent and she had two more hours to kill before she had to make the trek again. Chloe was right; she would get a lot of writing done here.

Emily brewed some coffee and downed two cups as she wrote a decent part of her manuscript, papers spread over the kitchen table. The alarm on her watch went off a few minutes before 10:00 am and she made her way back to the lake.

The autumn sun was warm against her cheeks and she decided to enjoy the walk more this time. She breathed in the scent of the season and kept her eyes out for anyone on the water. She checked one fishing license and went on her way.

Her next patrol wasn’t until 3:00 pm so she decided to crack open one of the many books on the shelf. She chose “The Howling” by Gary Brandner and settled onto the couch, getting lost in the cheesy horror novel from the ’60s.

Emily had fallen easily into the routine three days in; she did each patrol but struggled immensely to beat the sunset on her fourth walk around the lake. It was colder and it made her move slower.

The scratching started on the seventh day. Her world had grown colder and she had fallen into an easy routine of walking around the lake. She left the double-barrel rifle next to the front door but made sure the radio was strapped to her belt.

The first night she heard it was no different. She had nearly forgotten Chloe’s foreboding words, but it had become a habit to lock the door at night. She missed the moon and the crisp dark air. But even still, she headed the warning.

Emily had dozed off on the couch with the book at her side. It’s heavy spine hitting the floor startled her awake. The fire she had stoked burned out and her heart pounded in her chest. But that wasn’t what had stirred her, no, it was a dull scratching- barely noticeable if it weren’t for the quiet of the cabin.

She sat up and stared at the door.

It budged at the pure force of the animal on the other side, and Emily figured that she had been reading too much about the occult. As Chloe said, some beasts are more curious than others, and she had dead-bolted everything. She watched the door for a few more tedious moments before crawling into bed.

Emily saw the tracks the next day.

They were unlike any animal she had come across before; long and jaded. It’s nails dug into soft clay earth and trailed right up to her front door. There were fresh slashes in the red paint- and she swallowed back her discomfort.

She had to call the cabin on her fourth walk that day, the sun was setting faster than she cared to admit and she trudged through the icy path. An orange light coated the earth as she thought strangely of the animals around her. The particular animal that started to wait under her window at night, it’s breath fogging the glass. She made it to her porch just as the soft pink of the sky faded to a darker blue, almost black.

Emily had another restless sleep, like her first night in the cabin. There was the same scratching at her door and the radio crackled with feedback next to her. She wondered if anyone else heard the thing past her walls.

Chloe brought her new supplies on the tenth day, stating that the roads were a lot worse than usual and that a big snowfall had cleared out the entire grocery store in town. She presented her with stale bread and some orange juice that had enough pulp to create the fruit that it came from. Her boss stuck around and fried up some eggs.

“The scratches on the door,” Emily started.

Chloe stilled her movements, she had the blunt end of the spatula against the iron skillet. But it was just a beat where she was taken aback, barely noticeable. “Mm, have they been bad?”

“No. I mean, as normal as they can be. What kind of animal sounds like that?”

“We’re not sure. Not one you want to mess with.”

She tipped the pan over and divided the eggs evenly between the two before sitting in the rickety chair across from Emily. She didn’t wait to dig in, shoving a good heaping of the food into her mouth. Emily figured it avoidance.

“You said something about it calling out to me”

Chloe stopped the fork halfway to her mouth, a large glob of yellow yolk splashed into the grooves of the table. She lowered it and sat back in her seat. “Has it?”

“It hasn’t.”

“Good.”

She dropped the subject after that. They ate the rest of their breakfast in silence and Chloe left before the next time Emily had to trudge along the lake. It was getting harder, the colder it was, to get back to the cabin before nightfall. She gripped the radio tighter and let the eggs settle to the bottom of her stomach like rocks.

She put what Chloe said out of her mind until the scratching began again.

Emily had another fitful sleep. The air was growing colder and it made her chest ache. She rose when the sun did and took her first walk around the lake. She spotted two fishermen by the edge of the water and stopped just short of the tree line.

“Howdy,” one of the men said, he reached instinctively for his wallet, and Emily, drowsy from sleep, thanked him. “You’re new.”

“You’re out here a lot?”

She checked both of their licenses and watched as they effortlessly slid them back into one of their pockets. The sky was overcast and there was an odd stillness to the water. The man who had stayed quiet smiled widely and nodded. The fishhooks on his hat clinked together.

“Oh yeah, all the time. Most people don’t like to be out here in the cold but we love it. Fewer tourists and people trying to get a look at that dumb lake monster, they simply scare him off if you ask me.”

The other man shoved a pointed elbow into his friend “You know that shit ain’t real. It’s a money pit. Hell, they have shirts and bumper stickers. It’s nothing but a legend.”

“No, remember Mike? It hopped down from the trees an’ slashed all four of his tires. That’s why his hair is grey.”

“Mike Granger? His hair is grey because he’s an old lying bastard.”

Emily watched the exchange with wide eyes. She didn’t know much about this sleepy little town. She had pulled into the motel in the late hours and only spoke with one woman. Her voice was husky from years of smoking and the only vacancy sign in the place buzzed like a trapped fly. She should have paid more attention- should have eaten at a diner or asked Chloe more questions, even if she didn’t get the answers she wanted.

“I’m sorry… monster?”

Both men stopped their arguing and stared at her. She waited as her breath pooled past her lips. They were dried and cracked and tasted like blood. The taller one cocked an eyebrow and sent a narrow glance at his friend.

“Now, surely you didn’t take this job without knowing the Lake Worth Monster.”

She shrugged dejectedly “I’m afraid I did.”

“It’s a big hairy beast. Half goat, half-man, some bloke even said he can shapeshift. It’s got scales too and apparently claws long enough to slice tires. It’s been around since 1969 and our little town has capitalized on it since then. Like I said, a complete marketing scheme.”

Emily hugged her jacket closer and nodded. She thanked both of the men and continued on her way. She didn’t stop until she was back at her cabin. Her breath was shallow and she knelt down to stare at the long scratches on the door.

She struggled to put the beast out of her mind, to forget what the two strangers had said. She had checked and then double-checked the locks but still, she worried. Her eyes trained themselves on the ceiling and she listened as something crawled below her bedroom window.

Emily woke the next morning to the radio crackling. She reached for it blindly. “Hmm?”

“Emily, do you copy?”

“I copy.”

“I know it’s early. There’s been an accident. I need you to meet the sheriff down on the south side of the lake.”

Emily sat up and cursed herself for the quick movement as stars danced against her eyes. She pressed her palm against her forehead and blinked hard until they faded away. She squeezed the radio and told Chloe that she understood, even though she didn’t.

She saw the caution tape and the flashing lights that looked brighter under the half-risen sun. The sheriff was a tall woman with dirty blonde hair and soft pink lips. She was bundled up more than Emily and stood with her boots at the edge of the icy hardened shore. There was an overturned boat and the crackling of a radio other than hers.

“Emily, I presume?”

She nodded and her head was spinning “What’s all of this about?”

“Two fishermen are missing to the public.”

“What does that mean?”

“As far as anyone else knows, they’re just missing.” The sheriff grimaces and fixes her hat. “They were mutilated.”

Emily swallowed the dark feeling in her stomach. “By what?”

“You mean who?”

“Yeah, yes. By who?”

Emily didn’t’ mean by who; she meant what she had said and the sheriff stared at her as if she were to head back to the cabin and never speak of it again. Did this town have a vow of silence in the winters? She sheepishly kicked at the gravelly sand and listened as the woman spoke evenly.

“We don’t know. We were hoping that you had seen something but Chloe explained that you wouldn’t have. Said you were really good at your job and the time that these men were killed doesn’t line up with one of your patrols. I still wanted to speak to you.”

She could smell the blood and the way it mixed with the black water and looming fog. She wondered if they didn’t’ follow the rules and hadn’t gotten inside before the sun moved behind the horizon. This was the price to pay, for insolence.

Emily answered the remaining questions that the sheriff had before trudging back to the cabin. This time, she didn’t’ stop to feel the scratches on the door. This time she slammed it behind her and flopped onto the couch. She must have fallen asleep.

It was nearly dark, and she was late by the time she woke up. She had missed both of her midday patrols and wasn’t about to miss the fourth. Her body ached from the uncomfortable position she had winded up in. Emily slid on the jacket and thought twice before grasping at the shotgun behind her. It’s weight nearly throwing her off.

She was tired and the air was buzzing with electricity. There was a storm brewing and half of her knew that the rain would come down as slush instead of simple water. The twilight sky had clouds blocking a half-moon.

Emily had a job to do, and she wasn’t about to lose this one like she had the others. She had convinced herself, in the few weeks of solitude, that the manuscripts were coming along nicely because of the environment and the way she could listen to her own breath and the sounds of the cabin settling.

The sheriff and the boat, and the horrid scent of dried blood had been swept away with the wind. She kept further away from the shore, only stalling for a moment as the color in the sky began to fade away to black.

Emily didn’t know why she stopped. Why she listened to the ripples hit the shore and her own stilted steps against the sand. Her toes were numb, two pairs of socks not enough to keep the cold at bay. She recalled a conversation she had with Chloe the second time she dropped off supplies. This time she brought Emily a notebook and some pens- a few books about the Holocaust to lighten the mood.

It wasn’t a funny joke, but she chuckled anyway. “Thank you for taking this job, Emily. I’ve really taken a liking to you, you know?”

“I like you too, Chloe.”

She had flipped through the pages of the book and faired that if she got really desperate, she would give them a shot. She wasn’t’ much into history and neither was Chloe, seeing as she left them here with not much care.

“You been hearing weird things at night?”

“No,” She lied, setting the book on the step next to her “Whatever it was must have gotten bored enough.”

Chloe nodded and smiled before climbing back into her dusty yellow jeep and heading off to her next destination. Emily sat on the porch and watched her go. She breathed in the musty scent of the trees around her and flexed her fingers. Emily had made up her mind a few nights ago.

She wasn’t sure if she should watch the sun settle behind Lake Worth. If she should plant her feet in the sand and wait until whatever it was that wanted her came. A bit of caution tape was left behind, its plastic hissed in the wind so loud that she nearly didn’t hear the twig breaking.

Chloe had been hiding something; and as foolish as it was, Emily needed to know what. Those men, those that had settled onto the rocky lake with the intention of fishing had to be one of many. One of maybe thousands. Her morbid curiosity was too much.

Emily heard it before she saw it. She waited for something and nothing all at once, her breath solidifying in front of her as night finally fell. She hadn’t seen the way the sky lit up with stars all at once- but she enjoyed it now. Her eyes traced the constellations.

She clenched her eyes shut until those stars appeared within her mind and the sound of the water lapping at stones and sand and dirt moved over her ears. Almost too loud for her to hear it. Almost. Emily felt the heat of its sour breath on her shoulder, and even from where she stood, she knew it towered.