Chapter 3:
A Quiet Little Place
Wilk was the definition of a secluded small town. A menagerie of shops packing into one street offering everything from a stiff drink to antique toys. The big store chains were absent leaving the mom and pop shops to flourish. There wasn't even a fast food joint. That was too bad, I would have killed for a few chicken nuggets. The only building that seemed out of place was settled at the end of the main street. It was a monstrously garish thing that lorded over all the others.
Boots hit the white covered curb. I paused under the first street light resting my weight against the pole. That walk was downright murder, I must have burned every calorie I took in over the last week just making it up here. I retrieved a protein bar from one of my cargo pockets. It was a little melted from my body heat but that was nothing new. It's odd how being hungry always made anything taste like a five-star meal.
A banner swayed overhead as I licked the wrapper for every trace of the gooey chocolate substitute. An embroidered wolf was sewed into it, head pointed up in a howl as a basketball colored moon rose in the background. 'Home of the Wolves." it exclaimed. I snickered at the irony.
The first building to greet me into Wilk was naturally the town's welcome center. Its front window was large, open and cooled by a thin coat of fog. I wiped a clearing, the accompanying squeak echoed around the sleeping street. Spying inside pamphlets were lovingly spread out underneath, each a different suggestion. The spotlight, prominently being focused in the center, was the local basketball games. The rest were a mix of local food joints, mountain hiking, climbing, fishing, the same you'd find in any mountain town.
"I had my fill of this mountain, thank you." I thought musing over the rest until one drew my attention. Its presence among the mundane felt like the owner did it out of some begrudging compromise. In the mixture of horse riding lessons and "Rancher for a Day" flyers, there was a surprising sight.
"Hunt for the Green-eyed Beast of Wilk?" I couldn't help but say it aloud. Not only is there one up here but they even have tours for it. Now I was really confused on why no company had looked into this town.
Continuing down the line of shops, life was quiet, only the street lights giving signals of their presence. Rebecca's styling, Barry's barber, Chris' drug and pharmacy, Jill's sandwich shop and Wesker's hardware were all silent. Doors were all locked tight. Nothing unexpected in this weather. However, the next store rubbed me all sorts of wrong.
"Logan's Pub" was imprinted on to the glass. Stillness was the only thing I could see through the dark window, there wasn't even so much as a nightlight. A bar, here, in this snowstorm, was like an oasis in the desert. You really couldn't do much in a storm like this but drink until the place is dry or the snow clears up. People would do it by candlelight if you let them and owners always did. The money they made on days like this was magnificent.
The door shuttered as I tried the handle, dead bolted. Their hours posted on a sun-bleached sign. A crudely markered '2pm - 12am' was scribbled under today's hours. I judged the time was about seven pm, even if I was off by a few hours I'd still be asking for a drink right now. After I stashed my weapons around back, of course.
A little B and E would be easy. Some pain and a little twist of the knob and I'd be inside. Then, knowing my luck, a scared hostess would be phoning the local police screaming about a heavily armed man in her newly converted cafe.
That would be quite vexing to Jenni, she had lost her taste for bribery, after the last small town sheriff. She offered more than a fair amount, her mood was generous having taken out a group of Gowrows. It was one of my first real missions. Jenni did the lion's share of that, very colorful, operation. The noise that came from him after she viced down during their handshake was so cringe-worthy I shed a tear for the greedy bastard. He probably still had issues with his right hand after her polite persuasion talked him into being more 'charitable.' All I did was slash his tires on the way out. I know it was petty, but if the man had a choice I know which one he would have picked.
I searched the street again for anything that had signs of life. Only to find more of that same stillness blanketing everything like it was part of the snowfall. My eyes soon settled on a mechanic's shop that sat across the road. No lights, no movement, no surprise. That was until I noticed the open garage door.
Cautiously I made my way over. Taking care not to trip coming down or going up either of the street's curbs. A sign called this place Burr's Auto, 'Number One Mechanic of the Wolves Basketball Team.' I rolled my eyes, was it some type of subliminal message to get me to buy a tee shirt or something? I gave it a quick slap. The accumulated snow drifted to the ground pulling my attention to a peculiar disturbance.
They were faint but definitely there, remnants of footsteps. Something else had visited this shop. The marks were filled by the storm, leaving only a pattern of depressions barring anything other than guesswork. There was a good amount of them too, I would say about six pairs of thin legs, far too skinny for a human. Unless a rogue gang of eight-year-olds was running around like the children of the damned. Couldn't agree that the town wasn't setting that mood perfectly though. Man, I hated those kids but more distressing was the fact that all the tracks led straight into the open garage.
It was heaven being inside.
"Solid ground was so underrated." I thought kicking off the remaining snowshoe. A small prayer came out vowing never to put another one on again.
The snap of the gun holster's strap coming undone was like a crack of thunder in the silence.
"Hello?!" I waited a few moments as the words when unheeded.
My voice should have been enough to spur action from most creatures but I wasn't letting my gaurd down. The gun would remain in the holster with my hand resting on top of the custom forty-five MAC-10. I wouldn't draw unless I was sure it was a target, less I wanted to cause Jenni's premonition of civilian injury to come true. People thrusted into the world of monsters usually don't take it calmly and one jumping out of some makeshift hidey-hole screaming for help can startle the best of us.
The place felt normal from what I could tell. Having never been here prior, there could have been a car embedded in the ceiling and I wouldn't be able to tell the difference between an accident and some eccentric interior design. Thankfully, the only car was found on the floor settled over one of the work pits. Tools lined the back wall as tires lined their base. It was a tidy place, the owner obviously cared for it.
So when I sniffed something familiar my heart dropped. It was an oily odor that had a tint of copper. Just a quick whiff had my mouth tasting pennies. In these short years, I had sadly gotten used to the smell of blood. That's when I knew this was going to get a lot more complicated.
I've seen a fair share of them, even seen a few walking around trying really hard for an overly aggressive hug. Though the picture that was painted with this corpse was far from just simple bites. The car hid the details but I doubted it was done deliberately. The body was savaged, chest and ribs blossomed out revealing a hollow cavity. The insides were flung about as if there was a rush for the best pieces. Even the head was a mess, devoid of any signs of age or even sex. It was a nightmare of gore that made a hardened stomach twist.
This was clearly not done by the target. The female would be hard pressed to get in here let alone behind the car. I ran down a few common creatures that were known for leaving such... personalized displays.
Undead were known for these kinds of acts. Although it could be easily ruled out with the simple fact the corpse was still here. Judging by how snow-covered the tracks were it had plenty of time to start looking for its own meal.
A werewolf maybe, they could be extra vicious when first turned. Again, the prints outside didn't come close to matching. Thank Christ, taking out one of those things without backup was suicidal. Though there were rumors that some accountant did it years back but that smelled of such drunken hunter self-aggrandizing bullshit. Jenni and I still have a standing bet on it that she won't admit losing. I'm still waiting for the money, even after six months.
Maybe a Wampus? It was definitely a better fit for the tracks but they sucked you dry not tore you apart. They were mean, pissy, big cat bastards that normally shied away from towns. Only taking livestock or the occasional lost hiker. We bagged one that took out a family on a camping trip in North Dakota. Their remains weren't even close to this mess.
Out of ideas, I called it in.
"Arrived in town, one gory Jackson Pollock painting found." I said over the comms. In this work, everyone coped in a different way. Some became serious, no-nonsense killing machines. Others found strength in religion. Some took to the drink like the most hardened sailors. Some did yoga. Mine was a sprinkling of dark humor.
"Repeat... everyth... af... in town..." Jenni's voice crackled harshly in my ear.
"Of course." I chuckled before hitting the mic again. "Corpse found, repeat CORPSE FOUND in town. Unnatural circumstances!" A raised voice never helped with a bad connection but it does make you feel better. That and kicking a car door.
"Cor...pse? How m... find..." Her replies were getting worse.
I couldn't wait to tease her about this equipment failure. She gave me so much shit for the snowshoes after all. These comms must have been quite a sum with the way she hyped them up like the second coming. Teasing her I gave them two, maybe three jobs max before they melted or failed outright. This was job number four... Damn, I was one off.
My only choice was higher ground for a better signal. This meant going through town with some unidentified creature lurking around. Misinformation was worse than no information in this line of work. Packing silver bullets for a werewolf, only to be greeted by an earth golem that eats the stuff is a situation not many hunters live through.
However, staying put was not something Jenni taught me. In this business taking some chances was necessary or you would just die slow.
The gun was drawn and with a whip of my arm the gun's stock snapped securely into place. Its shape was odd but it did amazing work distributing most of the kickback over the forearm rather than the wrist. It was like night and day when it was set. Sadly, didn't quite eliminate the bastard MAC-10's personality, nothing could take the angry drunken mule out of it, but it made it ridable. The part I loved was the fact it needed only one-hand.
With a weighted sigh, I step back out into the snow. The cliched crunch sent a tired ache through my legs.
"Let's get this over with." I thought scanning the street. The white outlined each structure giving a bloated feel to them. Every street light was amplified by the snow as it seemed to play off dozens of natural mirrors. The majority of the buildings were one story affairs with no real way of getting any height. The ones with enclosed second floors were best left avoided. Clearing two whole levels by oneself was risky. What I needed was something like... I spotted one about one block down on the opposite corner of an intersection. A restaurant, or maybe a bar, had a shabby outdoor area for rooftop dining. That will do nicely.
Not too long after crossing the street I sadly discovered the creature's dining habit hadn't been confined to just the mechanic's place. A snowdrift had hidden another body in the archway of a shop. I nearly stepped on it before seeing the outstretched hand in a frozen claw reaching for the store's door. Guiltily I brushed off the layers of snow from the body with my boot, I couldn't afford to be caught on my knees. The farther I went down the more the red consumed the white until the bones of the spine protruded upwards. It mimicked the same brutal style as the previous, though with this one they did not bother flipping him over and went straight through the back. I gave a quiet apology and moved on.
The intersection was surprisingly wide. Its cross-street stretched out of town into the unknown with little decorating either run. Remains of a home, the only one I had seen thus far, lied in a heap of ash and wood about two hundred yards down one of the offshoots. Fire seemingly had claimed it. Embers still peeked with orange eyes as the noticeable smell of firewood permeated the air with each gust of wind. My left arm ached as the slivers of heat drifted over. I gave it a hard shake cursing the feeling, the last thing I needed was an added distraction. All the other building showed scars of various degrees of damage. Broken windows and smashed doors were the most common. Although a few walls had gaping holes torn through them. Something really wanted in. Their size passable if an adult didn't mind crawling. The whole thing felt like it was done by a raiding party of mad Vikings.
"Backup would be nice." I mumbled.
My destination stared at me from the opposing corner, its peaceful demeanor was like some dark invitation to an unhappy ending.
"Well, you only live once." An amusing thought until the image of a vampire played in my head. I gave a small chuckle as I double checked my weapon, then in a burst, I rushed across the street.
'The Drunken Drifter' was another bar. Its demeanor more rusticly humble then 'Logan's.' This seemed to upset someone as the front window was completely shattered inwards. The same thin prints from the garage marked the area. Glass and snow decorated the first ten feet of the inside, covering high tables, chairs and even some of the bar. This being a corner shop another large window faced the main street. Thankfully it was still intact with a menagerie of colored flyers blocking a good portion of the view at eye height. Anything that hid my presence was welcome.
Even on the lip of entry, I whiffed a familiar smell. I quickly played with the idea of finding another roof. I dismissed it quickly. For now, whatever invaded this town didn't seem to noticed my intrusion and another stroll might not be so lucky.
The bigger pieces of glass snapped and splintered as I stepped over the former window's frame. Its interior had signs of a struggle, furniture was a disarrayed mess. The street lights gave enough illumination to catch fresh crimson coating most of it. I slowly headed towards the bar, it would make a decent bunker if I was dealing with anything that could fight at a range. Two stools squeaked as I pushed inwards against the bar. My little 45-millimeter mule always at the ready. The bar's stock was decent from what the darkness didn't hide, driving my want for a nip of whiskey into almost a necessity.
Looking before you leap was a cliche but I was glad for it. Behind the bar, tucked into the corner, another mangled body was gutted. Torn to ragged chunks, innards littered the back area. The thing went right through the man's bright orange hunter's jacket and judging by the absence of the pieces, whatever did this didn't stop to spit them out.
The opposite side fared no better, another set of remains sat under a dart board. A chair gripped tight in her hands. This woman must have put up some type of fight as her body was not in tatters but that didn't mean they let her off easy. She must have gotten a couple of good shots in before the end. One of the chair legs snapped to a point and glowed with a faint orange glow. The creature's blood if I was lucky. I gave a nod of respect to her fight.
I settled back against the bar. The events had my head racing for conclusions of the culprit. Truth was I had no idea, which only helped to increase my nerves. Placing my gun on the bar I started to fish behind the counter with my right hand. I didn't care what I pulled up just that it was liquor.
The bottles gave a clink as I found them corralled together and with a random hand I pulled one free. I didn't bother reading the label a quick sniff would be enough. It was a sweet honey smell giving it away as some type of cheap whiskey. Not really my thing but I let it bite my tongue anyway. I surrendered to the stool as I let the hot liquid dull the pain of the day.
This bar was a place I could have seen myself in joying if I got out much other then the job and the decor wasn't so... raw. I looked around imagining the past. The slab of a door, even without the crude barrier of tables and chairs, must have been a bitch to open in this weather. To bad whatever this thing was didn't exclusively use only doors. The remaining large window was filled with more than just flyers. Pictures of the patrons lined the outer frame detailing their lives before the end. My heart ached, nothing deserved to go out this way, even the guilty. I follow the frozen scene of smiling face from top to bottom until my gaze met another's.
Every muscle in my body went tight as I stared into a pair of orange eyes that sat on the other side of the glass.