The sounds of her laughter echoed through the trees, childish and playful, somehow filling the park with its resonance. The trees had already begun to embrace autumn’s cool touch, turning from green to yellows and oranges and reds. It seemed to him that it had acquired a slightly sepia tone, like one of those home videos from his childhood. He could see her smile, feel the warmth of her touch, he could smell the faint perfume on her neck. They walked for what seemed like hours, through the trees and across the fields, talking and laughing. It was a beautiful day, any worry or care seemed so far away that it could never touch them, and they got lost in it together.
Images of her lingered in his mind when Mal woke from his troubled sleep. He reached over and shut off his alarm. Wearily he sat up in his bed pushing the sheets back he slid his feet off the bed and onto the floor. The cold hardwood floor wasn’t very inviting to his bare feet. He leaned forward resting his elbows on his knees, he slowly ran his fingers through his hair as if to brush out the last of those fading memories from his mind. He looked out his window at the cold, wintery world outside. Ice hung from the branches of the large sycamore that stood along the edge of his yard. The clouds blocked out the rising sun. He got up and dressed for work.
He liked arriving at work early before anyone else got there, preferring the solitude of the mountains in the morning with no one else around. He enjoyed being a Park Ranger, ever since he was a boy he enjoyed being out in the woods, he felt at peace out in the wild. He climbed out of his old jeep and walked up to the station door; the crisp morning air bit at his face as he fumbled for his keys to unlock the building. Pausing, he turned and looked up at the trees; the tops trembled and swayed as the wind blew through their boughs. Despite the wind’s persistent flow through the mountain the air was eerily silent to him this morning, as if the woods were hushed in silent anticipation of some unknown affair. Shrugging off the faint sense of dread he opened the door and went in.
The coffee was already brewed before anyone else came in. Tom, a man in his late fifties, with a round face, a linebacker’s build and graying hair, arrived first. He was a cheery man, keen on joking and having fun, he was well liked around the station. Smiling, he greeted him as Tom tossed his keys on his desk.
“Mornin’ Tom, how goes it?” Mal said as he grabbed a mug from the cabinet in the stations mini kitchen. “Can’t complain, got the chains on my tires last night, Carla kept tellin me that I was waistin my time that there wouldn’t be any snow this early, but I told her last year it did, and look who was right!” Tom replied as he brushed the snow from his shoulders. Motioning to the window behind him, Mal said, “Yeah, we got quite a bit there last night, I was a little surprised myself, but the jeep’s got that four wheel so it was no problem really, only slowed me down maybe five minutes or so, nothin’ major.” Incredulously, Tom said, “Ha, that old thing still runs?! I thought she’d have been retired by now, that old rust bucket!” Mal, not unused to getting picked on about his choice of vehicle easily responded, “You’d be surprised what ole Jenny can do, she got me outta many a ditches over the years.” Good-naturedly Tom replies, ”I’m surprised every time I get here and you aren’t broke down in the ditch.”
Mal just smiles and pours Tom and himself a cup of coffee. Mal is about thirty years Tom’s junior, and has always looked up to him. He grew up in the small town of Red Ridge, Montana, on the north eastern edge of Yellowstone Park. When Mal’s father left him when he was twelve Tom took him under his wing. He would bring Mal with him to work in the Park during the summer, and is the reason for his love of the Park now. They sat and talked as the others filtered in for the morning. After a brief meeting everyone headed out for the day, going to patrol their zones as more clouds slowly rolled in across the sky.
Mal’s zone was down near the lower falls, it was a large canyon area with a river cutting through the middle, splitting the mountains like a knife. He pulled up to a gate that blocked access to some of the back trails around the canyon. It was a small foot path mainly used by geologist studying the area. Lately there had been a lot of graffiti sprayed along the canyon walls along the path, most likely by some kids out to impress their girlfriends, so he made a point to monitor the area more often to discourage further vandalism. Getting out of his jeep he felt that same eerie feeling from earlier, the air was still and cool, he imagined it felt like a morgue with the faint smell of death hanging in the air. He shook his head, telling himself he was being dramatic, and headed down the path on foot.
The smell of the large evergreen trees jutting up along the path filled his nostrils, he breathed in the scents with delight, feeling silly now for his earlier feelings of dread. He had been winding along the path for almost an hour, the only signs of life the occasional chipmunk or elk searching for food in the early snow, when he came upon a tattered back pack mostly covered in snow. Crouching down he brushed the snow off it revealing a dark blue bag, like a school back pack, with deep purplish spots on it. Lifting the bag by the bottom and tilting it, he dumped out its contents. On the ground fell a can of green spray paint. He opened the front zipper of the bag, in it he found a student identification card, according to it the bag belonged to a Bryan Wilson of Mammoth High School.
Mal began to search the area. He walked about twenty yards when he spotted a splash of red on the canyon wall to the side of the path, deep red, almost burgundy, the stain looked as if a mad painter’s bucket was flung across the wall and had trickled down the mountains stone face. Searching on past the first spot he saw a shoe jutting up out of the freshly falling snow. His mouth went dry, when almost unbelievably, he saw a horribly torn human hand, severed from its owner, slowly being covered in the wet snow.
As if walking in a nightmare he slowly made his way to it. He began to bend over to get a closer look when a scream shattered the mountains hallowed silence. He stood bolt upright, immediately searching the area. Again, louder this time, the scream bounced off the canyon walls, masking its origin. The screams continued, louder and louder and louder still, until, out of the corner of his eye he caught a movement, so fast he almost missed it. From between two spruce trees exploded a young teenaged girl, wearing what appeared to be a crimson red shirt that flowed onto her jeans, partially staining them the same crimson red. Running directly into Mal, she fervently tried to push him to the side, clawing and digging her way past him. Trying to process all that was happening at once, Mal held tight to her, stopping her at least for the moment. Before he could ask her what was going on the trees once again exploded, this time what looked to be a reanimated corpse, slammed into Mal full speed, knocking him over and breaking his grasp of the girl. The wretched corpse shrieked as it fell on top of Mal, spraying blood and spit into his face. Its breath was putrid, like rotting flesh and sulfur, it burned his eyes.
The side of its face was missing, the muscles of his jaw were exposed, he could see them working its visible teeth up and down desperately trying to bite Mal’s face and neck. Tearing and biting the corpse attacked him, Mal kicked and wrestled free of its grasp. He quickly stood and spun around facing the corpse on the ground, the corpse leapt angrily at him like a rabid dog. Reeling, Mal stepped to the side and pulled the bear mace on from his hip, cursing himself for leaving his rifle in the jeep. Spewing through the air the mace foamed a thick white cloud on the corpse’s face, shrieking in pain it stumbled back. Empty, Mal threw the can to the ground; franticly searching for a weapon to protect him he scanned the snow covered canyon floor. Spotting a large stone to his right he lunged after it, just as the corpse turned to attack once again. Mal reached the stone, grabbed it, and spun around, swinging it with all his strength, catching the corpse across the side of the head with a wet thud. The corpse crumpled to the side, no longer shrieking or lunging, and fell into the wet snow.
Shaking, Mal leaned against the canyon wall to catch his breath. He looked to his attacker, wondering what was going on, who was that, or more aptly, what was that? He slowly walked over to it, holding the rock high poised to strike, and got a closer look at it. Kneeling and searching through the snow with his free hand he found a stick, using it he pushed the corpse over off of its side. The corpse was roughly the size of a young man, wearing tattered blue jeans and a Mammoth High hooded sweater covered in blood and sludge. The skin off its cheek was torn away exposing stark white teeth and jawbone, further down on its neck it appeared to have a bite taken out of the right side, severing the artery. Half of the right arm was missing, ending in a horrible stump. Mal’s stomach started twisting as he looked at the hideous mess.
Suddenly he remembered the girl. Standing and turning he looked back in the direction she had gone. In the fresh snow she left obvious tracks for him to follow, he wound around the side of the canyon wall tracing her steps. He followed them for about a quarter mile when they abruptly turned into a small cave too narrow for him to fit into. Pulling out his flashlight he leaned down and peered into the cave. He no more than bent down when he heard a slight whimper come from inside. Shining his light from left to right he saw her crouched in the corner, softly he told her it was alright for her to come out, telling her he was a Ranger and they were safe now. Furtively she started sliding out of the small crack in the canyon’s side. As soon as she was out she clung onto him like a scared child. Sobbing she begged “Please, oh God, oh God, please help us! Please, something got Bryan, you have to help him, you have to!” Leaning back and trying to calm her down Mal replied “Wait, calm down, listen to me, listen. I need you to tell me what happened, I need you to help me, I don’t know what’s going on. Help me out here.”
“A man,” she said between sobs, “we were, we were just messing around, just, you know, spraying our names on the walls and, and then he just- he just appeared out of no where. He was just there! He was just there, grabbing, and biting, and I don’t know- He got Bryan, he grabbed him, Oh my God, Bryan- He got him, he told me to run, run fast. So I did, I ran as fast as I could, and I hid, I hid all night. Then, then Bryan, he, was there, and ok, I ran out to him when I saw him. Oh, but the blood, he was covered, dripping, and then I saw his face, I saw it, so horrible, so gross, I screamed! I screamed, and he came running at me, I was so scared, he knocked me down, he kept trying to bite me, he was pulling my hair, and grabbing my shirt. I kept saying ‘It’s me! It’s me, Katie!’ but he wouldn’t listen, he just kept pulling and biting…” She paused shaking with fear, barely keeping from breaking down, “and so I kicked him, I hit him and pushed him away, he fell off me and I ran, he started chasing me and I ran and screamed, and then you, then you were there, and I thought you were the man, so I ran and you held me so I fought and ran to here… I ran here…” She broke down, sobbing she dropped to her knees. Mal bent down calmly soothing her.
“Come on, its okay, you are safe with me now,” He assured her. “Get up, let’s get you back to the station and cleaned up. We will sort this out, you are okay now, come on, it’s okay.” Slowly climbing to her feet she merely said ok, and began following him back to the truck.
Upon arriving to his truck he helped her into the passenger seat before going around and climbing into the driver’s seat. He started up the truck and turned on the heater, he then reached for his short wave C.B. radio and called the station. No one answered. He tried again, no answer. He checked his radio, made sure it was on and working and tried again. Again, he received no answer. Worried, he threw the jeep in reverse, spun it around and raced back up the mountain. All the way back up he mulled the events over and over again in his head, what was going on, what was that, who was the man, where was he at now and most importantly, was wasn’t anyone answering at the station. He prayed his instincts were wrong as he pressed a little harder on the accelerator, speeding up the mountain into the unknown.
