eager little monsters
by chris winters

A short story by Chris Winters

Eager little monsters.

It was seven months ago that Mike took the job of assistant den father for the Wildcats Youth Organization, specifically, troupe seventeen out of Sackworth, New Jersey.

Mike squatted in the hard dirt, and helped Randy drive the first tent spike into the ground.  Randy was nine years old, had greasy blonde hair, and large green eyes.  He also had a serious overbite.  His front teeth hung over his swollen bottom lip like piano keys.

Braces were not a luxury these kids could afford, thought Mike.

Mike enjoyed working with the Wildcats Organization.  The kids were all hard luck cases, but good natured, and Mike felt important showing them the ropes.  The boys were young enough that they hadn’t yet realized they had been dealt a pair of twos in that unfair game of five card stud that was life.  They were, if nothing else, eager little monsters.

Randy was pounding away on a tent nail and looked up at Mike after each blow.  He was sweating, and getting a little frustrated.  It didn’t help that he missed as often as he connected.

“Cmon, only three more spikes to go Rand”, said mike. 

“Jesus, this is tough!”, Randy whined loudly.

“Hey, watch the language buddy”.

“Yeah, whatever…”, Randy trailed off.  But, he was a trooper and kept working.

Mike had agreed to take the boys camping at Eagleclaw Lake.  The Den father, Dan, had gotten a chest infection two days ago, and had asked Mike to take the boys alone. It was fudging the rules slightly.  Mike was not technically allowed to watch the kids overnight without Dan present.

 It was a two-hour drive from Sackworth to the campsite.  The countryside this far from the city was easy to get lost in.  The last leg of the journey involved taking a twisting, dirt service road that was so enveloped by leafy trees that the rhythm of shadow and light reflecting off the hood of the truck created a strobing effect that was hard on Mike’s eyes.  When they eventually arrived, packs went on backs, and they debarked and walked the rest of the way to Eagleclaw.

Eagleclaw Lake was quite large, about six miles across, and asymmetrical. The far side was not visible from the camp’s vantage point, and the shoreline was intercut with fallen trees, and jutting peninsulas.  Foliage was everywhere.  The whole area was very secluded.  In fact, there were no other campers in view at all.  It struck Mike as a little odd for this time of year, but at least the boys could run free without getting in too much trouble.

Randy finished with the last of the tent spikes and theatrically fell to the ground in exhaustion. Mike laughed. High fives were exchanged.

All the boys had work to do.  Mike had gathered the group, and given out the assignments.  Tommy and Aaron would head into the woods to collect dried branches for the fire.  Matt and Deloy were already unloading and unpacking the last of the boxes.  Phillip and Mick were inventorying the supplies.  Randy was helping Mike pitch the tent.

While the other boys were busy, Mike walked over to Tommy and Aaron and instructed them to not wander more than a few feet into the trees. His tone was serious.

“You guys know the drill, its easy to get lost out here. I can trust you, right? No more than ten feet into the tree line, and always within ear shot.”, He told them.

“Sure Mike”, said Aaron.

“Absolutely”, said Tommy.

The two boys ran a few feet, and Mike saw Tommy punch Aaron in the arm. 

Mike knew the boys were close, and were friends outside the Wildcats. 

Aaron suddenly stopped, and looked into the trees.  He was fixated on something.

Mike walked over.

“Hey Aaron, what wrong?”

“We should see what’s over there, I think I see something. “, Aaron said.  “Something red.”

Aaron was pointing to Tommy’s right, and through the woods.

Mike stared, and finally saw it. It was definitely red, and stood out among the browns and greens that dominated their surroundings.  Every so often it caught the light and flared brightly.

 “ Alright, lets go check it out.” Mike agreed. He looked over at Phillip, Mick, Randy, and Deloy.

“You guys gonna be alright?”

They all nodded.

“Alright, lets go check it out.”

Tommy and Aaron took off at a sprint.

When Mike caught up to the boys he saw what had caught their attention.

It was an animal of some kind, probably a dog. It lay half submerged in the lake with only its head and front legs above water.  The dog was caught between the branches of a fallen tree that ran from the shoreline and delved beneath the water.  The animal must have weighed around sixty pounds, and had a strong harness buckled around its torso. There was also a muzzle around its head and jaws. The harness was thick, a bright red vinyl material, and it was fastened with large metal rivets. The rivets were catching the light, and that’s what had grabbed Tommy’s attention.

Tommy and Aaron were standing ankle deep in the water, about two feet from the carcass.  

“Whoa, look at its bones…”

“Yeah, is it a dog?”, asked Aaron, standing next to him.

“Yeah, sure looks like it. “

“Wicked”, Aaron declared.

Mike considered following the boys into the water, but was not eager to soak his shoes. 

“Hey guys, cmon back to shore.  I’m not kidding.  Don’t mess with that thing.”

They were focused on the body, and didn’t respond.

Tommy grabbed a long branch, and began poking the dog.  The eyes were a milky pale aqua, and the fur was a deep black, and was horrible matted. You could make out the rib bones poking through where the flesh was decomposing.  Both ears were nearly missing. Its mouth hung open in a permanent grimace exposing its many three-inch teeth.  The tongue hung off to the side, a fish belly colored strap of flesh bobbing in the water.

“He’s so dead”, Aaron stated.

“Yeah”, Tommy said, while inspecting the harness with his stick. “He’s dead alright.”

Mike was getting annoyed.

“Guys, I’m not kidding, Cmon back.  Don’t make me come get you.”

The boys continued, oblivious to him.

Tommy noticed something under the body, in the water.

“Careful, T, don’t touch it”, Aaron yelled, excited!

Tommy ignored the advice, and reached out for a closer examination.

“I want to read it”, He said.

Tommy began reading loudly as he examined the object caught under the dog. “Specim…something….6430…something, more numbers, C...A…N…I…N…E.…batch 14…, and it looks like someone’s signature”, read Tommy.

Aaron backed up to give Tommy some room. Both their feet and legs were already soaked. Tommy turned and took a step, but his left foot caught on a root on the lake’s bottom, and he suddenly fell backward on top of the animal.  Water splashed in all directions.  He got entangled in the branches, and the carcass. Tommy stood up and heaved the dog away from his body and into the reeds. It broke into two pieces as it flew through the air, and landed with a sickening splash out of view.

The boys stood in shocked silence. They were both drenched, but Tommy got the worst of it.  He had nasty scratches across his arms.  There were mud and leaves in his hair, and some dark fur was stuck to his face and hands.  He looked like a nightmare.

The boys ran to the shoreline, and Tommy began to quiver.  Mike knew he was about to cry.  Aaron tried to brush off the leaves as Tommy tried to compose himself.             

“God Dammit, guys”, Mike yelled! “ You wouldn’t listen to me.”

Mike started pulling Tommy towards the campsite. 

Tommy was in no mood to put up a fight.  He walked slowly behind, not saying a word, only sniffling. 

Aaron followed.

They arrived back at camp, and saw the orange tent was now set up.  The boxes were unpacked.  Phillip was talking sternly to Mick about something.

Mick was very thin, and wore large, cheap, plastic glasses.  Mike always kept an eye on him.  He could sometimes be very mean, and was known to be a bit of a bully.

“Dude”, yelled Aaron! “Tommy fell in the water!”

All the boys turned.

Chaos ensued.

The boys began talking at once.

“HEY”, Mike yelled! 

They all grew quiet.

Mike took a breath and calmed down a bit. 

“Alright, alright, lets get Tommy cleaned up.  Deloy and Philip, finish with the boxes, and Aaron and Mick, go get the firewood.  And come right back.”

The boys started off towards the woods, and Mike walked Tommy over to the tent.  He got some towels and water, and began to clean him up.

“Take off your clothes, strip down, you’re a mess.”

Tommy was still upset, but obliged.

Mike cleaned up the scratches on Tommy’s arms with Neosporin from the med kit, and handed him a towel to dry off with.  Once Tommy was presentable, and calm enough to drink a pop, they walked back to the rest of the group.

Aaron and Mick were back, and sitting by the boxes of supplies.  Matt, Deloy, and Philip were there as well, and all the boys were laughing and talking in hushed tones.   They had obviously been discussing everything that happened.

Mike addressed the group with his hands on Tommy’s shoulders.

“Alright guys, we had our first little adventure, didn’t we.  What do you say we all play a little ball, and then build the fire and make hotdogs.”

Everyone cheered, and the trip was back on track. 

Tee-ball was uneventful, although Mike noticed Tommy still looked flushed and was moving a little slower than normal.  The sun went down, and as the heat broke and a chill crept into the air, they built the campfire.  After hotdogs, Mike told a couple of ghost stories.  He kept an eye on Tommy who was fidgeting.  His forehead had beads of sweat shining in the firelight. Soon enough, it was time for bed.  It was no small feat getting the five boys into their sleeping bags.  They were arranged in a circle with everyone pointing inward.  It felt safe inside the large orange tent, and Mike could still smell the cinders from the campfire outside.  Despite everything, Mike thought, not a bad day.  He was tired. 

The sounds of the woods filled the air, and he closed his eyes.

Mike woke up. 

He was groggy, and he slowly got to his knees. 

It wasn’t morning yet. 

He tried to rub the sleep from of his eyes as he glanced at his watch. 

2:45am. 

The tent was too quiet. 

He looked around at the sleeping bags, and saw they were all empty.

God dammit, what now.

Mike quickly put on his shoes and jacket, and grabbed a flashlight. 

The night air hit him as he emerged from the tent.  It was windy, and at least ten degrees cooler from the breeze coming off the lake.  Looking around, he couldn’t see any sign of the boys.

“HEY GUYS”, he called out.

“GUYS, don’t worry.  I’m not mad.”

Nothing.

He listened more intently, but could only hear the sounds of the woods. 

Mike walked over to edge of trees to the east, and investigated. 

No sign of the guys anywhere.

What the hell is going on?

What did they get into now?

Good god, what’s that smell.

He wandered back towards the campsite, and finally saw something.  One of the boys was standing fifteen feet in front of him.  The boy was slightly bent over, standing at a strange angle, like a busted mailbox. 

Mike couldn’t tell who it was, but he was relieved.

 He squinted.

“Hey buddy, what’s going on. Is that you …Mick, …Aaron?”

The kid let out a screeching howl, and lunged.  His limbs moved like a puppet with some cut strings, and he was scratching the air in front of him as he approached.

Mike stood dumbstruck.

He now saw it was Phillip. 

Phillip normally had a brown buzz cut, a ruddy complection, and freckles on his fat cheeks.  He was prone to anxiety, and was often a victim of Mick’s abuse. 

This Phillip was the color of sour milk, and it looked like patches of his hair had fallen out.  His shirt was missing, and there were deep maroon scratches covering his torso.  His nipples were jet black and shiny in the moonlight.  They were leaking fluid.  Blue veins were visible throughout his chest and face.  His eyes were crazed, and his teeth were gnashing back and forth.

Phillip let out another animalistic moan.

Mike ran. 

He ran as fast as he could, into the woods and away from the camp.  He stopped after a few minutes.  All he saw around him were trees. Shadows. Sharp threatening angles silhouetted against the moonlight.

He was disoriented. 

Finally, he saw the lake to his left, and he knew he could follow the shoreline back to camp if need be. But what the fuck is going on? Phillip needs serious help. They needed an ambulance, and maybe the cops.  Double fuck.

Mike checked his pockets and realized his cell was back in the tent. He was wearing tennis shoes and dark purple sweat pants, a yellow New Jersey State tee shirt, and a green jacket.  He had his watch, a flashlight, and not much else.

            A wail carried through the night, and Mike’s nerves ignited. 

The wail sounded yet again, but this time a chorus formed.  Three, then four, then five screams were heard, and Mike tried to steady himself by clutching the tree nearest him.  Warm urine ran down his legs and crackled in the dried leaves at his feet.  He tried to figure out what his next move was.  Small puffs of air formed in front of him with each exhale. 

Maybe he could wait it out till morning hiding in the woods.

As the wails continued, he realized he had to move before they found him.  He needed to get help.

            He considered the phone again, but knew there was no way he could make himself go back to the campsite.  It was only about half a mile back to the SUV.  He could drive and get the cops.

            He began the hike back to the truck by walking parallel to the campsite through the woods. He tried to move as silently as possible.  The crunch of every footstep nearly caused him to panic.  Soon, he was making decent time and approaching the main trail that would lead him back to the SUV.  The boys’ cries, while bone chilling, at least revealed their location.

He broke free of the trees, and started walking on the grass path that ran the rest of the way out of camp.  He picked up his pace until he was jogging.  The SUV eventually came into view, parked where he had left it in a clearing by the road.  He was about twenty feet away when he realized he didn’t have the keys.  They were back in his jeans, which were on the tent floor next to his sleeping bag. 

He stopped.

He had to go back.

            Mike crept back up the trail and thought of the boys as he went.  They were all good kids, and now this. 

The night was all around him, overwhelming his senses.

            It took Mike thirty minutes to make it back to the edge of camp.  He had a large stick in one hand that he held like a club.  His other hand held the flashlight.  He still heard the boys’ cries in the darkness. 

He was shaking as he moved to the tent.  The coast seemed clear.  He pulled one of the entrance flaps open with his stick, and aimed the flashlight inside with his right hand.  It was empty.  He saw his jeans on the ground next to his sleeping bag, and quickly picked them up.  He grabbed his phone as well.  He decided to take a moment and put on the jeans, first taking off his shoes, and then putting them back on after he was dressed.  He didn’t bother to untie them.

            The cries started again, and this time at least two of the boys were close.

            Mike peeked through the tent flap and saw Deloy and Matt standing together.  They were rocking back and forth.  Blood was dripping from Deloy’s nose, and Matt had one finger that was bent at a ninety-degree angle.  Occasionally, one of them would violently let out another yell.  Other times, they would simple mutter to each other in little fiendish grunts.  They both had scratches on the face and arms. 

When they bumped into each other they would nip and spit.

            Mike found his courage and slowly exited the tent.  He stood up, and once again made a break for the trees to the East. 

            Deloy and Matt almost immediately gave chase.  The boys moved more quickly than Mike thought possible, but with a stumbling gait that left them clumsy.  Mike made it to the forest and turned to follow the same path he ran the last time, parallel to the camp. 

Matt and Deloy crashed into the forest after him, but they had trouble navigating the terrain.  Mike was able to gain some ground.  He ran up the trail at full speed.

            Once again, the SUV came into view.  He checked all the seats with the flashlight making sure there would be no surprises.  He then pulled the keys from his jeans pocket, and quickly got in and locked the doors.  He put the keys into the ignition, and it started on the first try. He turned on the headlights, and shifted into reverse.  As he pulled away, he saw six figures approaching the clearing. 

Suddenly, they stopped and five of them began working together, swinging wildly, biting, and tearing at the sixth.

            Mike put the truck in drive, and quickly fled the scene.

Once again, he heard the boys screaming into the night like banshees.

He flipped open his cell and dialed 911.

Mike drove the SUV back towards the highway and didn’t notice as he passed a yellow sign tacked to a tree by the side of the road.  The sign was hard to read through the thick foliage, but in bold letters it stated: WARNING.  FENNYPARKER LABS.  PRIVATE PROPERTY:  TRESPASSERS WILL BE PROSECUTED TO THE FULL EXTENT OF THE LAW.