Tracked Down

By: Thomas Caton
September 9, 2008

Desperate to convince himself that all was not lost, Codey Simmons slipped the rifle back inside its soft bag and waded through the marshland towards the forest. The rifle, a present from his late brother, Darryl was something he treasured dearly.

Darryl had died of a heart attack aged 29 just over two years ago and each time Codey held the rifle in his palms it was as though he was clinging on to his brother. With Darryl there, nothing could go wrong. That was how it had always been.

With the mud slapping and squelching beneath his crotch, Codey attempted to find firmer ground. It seemed, however, that anything within walking distance was of the same density of that below him. Twenty metres from the forest, he decided to persevere, and continued.

Codey had been following three men for a number of hours, already. They had begun their day in the Black and White Forest, creeping up and down the various streams that filtered downward from the Belltop River. There they remained.

They had been hunting down a Big Cat that had been sighted in the neighbouring town of Barfick, and it was believed that the jet black predator –supposedly the size of a small pony- was fond of the fresh water that moistened the area.

‘Twenty thousand dollars!’ remarked one of the men. He was around nineteen, with a lumberjack shirt and chainsaw attached to him.

‘Yeah, but we’ve got to find the stupid thing first,’ said another, sounding exasperated. He was in his mid-thirties, tall and slight. His face said Pissed Off. The third man, also in his thirties, was crouching down listening attentively for any disturbance in nature’s unrehearsed symphony. ‘Do you hear that?’ he asked.

‘Hear what?’ said the second man, standing close behind him. There was definitely something in the near bushes.

‘That!’ said the third man. He turned to the nineteen year old, who stood away to his right. ‘Jimmy! What you think it is?’’

‘Dunno,’ Jimmy shouted back. ‘Sounds too big to be a cat.’

‘They say it’s a helluva size!’ said the second man.

‘Who told you that, Carmichael?’ asked Jimmy.

‘It’s all over Barfick,’ Carmichael countered, looking less pissed and more serious.

‘All over any place within a ten mile radius,’ said the third man.

‘How comes we’re the only ones out looking then, Joseph?’ Carmichael said.

‘Because we’ve got balls, perhaps?’ Joseph replied.

The three men gradually moved in the direction of the sound, huddled together in a small and tight pack. Joseph led; he was flanked on his right by Carmichael, whilst young Jimmy followed behind.

On the other side of the bush, Codey Simmons waited for his chance to shoot. He was ready to blow their heads off, then take the Big Cat home and snatch the twenty thousand dollar reward from their clutches.

Jimmy pressed forward to the front, chainsaw whirring through the humid air. It was nifty of him to bring such a contraption. No animal, giant panther, or otherwise would come near him with the meat cutter to face. What Jimmy didn’t anticipate, though, was the bullet that tore through the fabric of his shirt and lodged itself in the lower part of his stomach. He hit the deck immediately and in a sick twist of fortune sliced his left leg off. The blood sprayed so high that Carmichael was momentarily blinded. Joseph crouched beside Jimmy and fired a shot into the bushes. Codey was frightened by how close it actually was. Carmichael fired a shot too, but this was way off the mark. Codey fired back and sliced off Jimmy’s scalp. The chainsaw continued to drone. Carmichael retreated a little and lay on his belly with gun at the ready. Joseph stood for the final time as Codey let rip with a couple of rounds that knocked the man into a sleep he would never wake from.

With both his friends dead, Lawrence Carmichael pressed his blood stained face into the soggy ground and prayed for God to show mercy. His wishes were soon answered. ‘Get up!’ a voice from in front of him said.

Carmichael lifted his head. Joseph was sprawled out to his left, and Jimmy lay dead in front of him. The youngster’s left leg lay beside a small rock and already flies were hovering over it.

Beyond the swarm of flies stood a man, around the same age as Carmichael, pointing a rifle straight at him. It was Codey. ‘I want you to get up, leave your gun on the floor and knock this off.’ He kicked the red plastic of the chainsaw. ‘No false moves,’ he snarled. ‘And when you’ve finished, I’m going to walk toward you slowly. I won’t hesitate in killing you, so don’t try anything on. I want the twenty thousand.’

‘You killed my two friends for money?!’ Carmichael asked, sounding utterly revolted.

‘I don’t want anyone standing in my way. When I kill that beast it will be the making of me.’

Carmichael wanted to snap the man’s neck in two and feed it to the Big Cat himself. ‘You’re fucking sick!’ he shouted.

‘Maybe I am, but you’re one lucky man. Believe me…if I wanted to, I could have killed you as well. Now do what I’ve asked.’

‘And what then?’

‘We’ll find the puddy cat of course!’

‘How are you going to manage that?’

‘Don’t you see?’ Codey taunted, ‘I’ve got the perfect bait.’

Carmichael was at a loss for words. He did as he was told, and then stood his ground. The bodies of his two friends stared up at him from the damp forest floor. He was then overcome with guilt, when he remembered it was his idea to go looking for the wild creature. How could things have got so bad in such a short period of time?

Codey walked towards him with his gun fixed firmly on him. ‘Can you dig?’

‘Dig?’ said Carmichael.

‘Dig holes.’

‘Oh no fucking way!’ Carmichael would rather die than become a temporary gravedigger. Codey laughed.

‘Just let me go and by the time I get back to Barfick,’ Carmichael pointed east, ‘you’ll be well on your way. I wouldn’t say a thing,’ he pleaded.

‘You won’t get chance too! Once the cat comes along, you and your friends will be its pierce de resistance, or as the local rag might put it; its unfortunate victims.’ Codey sneered viciously. ‘I’ll wait here for a few days and when the time’s right I’ll kill it. A few days of roughing it and I’ll be twenty grand better off!’

From behind them in the depths of the B and W Forest, a hurried sound ground to a halt. The pair of men looked at each other with both fear and confusion gleaming in their eyes. ‘I hope it’s hungry,’ said Codey. ‘Why don’t you walk towards it? It’ll be quicker that way.’

Carmichael wanted to run in the opposite direction, in the hope that the cat might attack Codey. He couldn’t. Frozen by his own indecision, his thoughts threatening to break him, he shouted loudly for help. Codey gripped the rifle with all his might and waited for whatever was there to show itself. He fired a shot rocketing into the high trees in the hope that it would scare the thing off; for now at least.

Codey was about to speak, when the black figure appeared, galloping toward him and Carmichael. ‘Get ready now,’ Codey said, ‘he’s coming for you.’

Carmichael could only watch, as Codey took three steps back and aimed at the gigantic beast. It was as big as the rumours had made out. Its muscular physique was irresistible to the eye. Carmichael knew this and braced himself for the worst. He was hypnotised.

The creature –the size of a gorilla, not a small pony- moved with grace and seized both Jimmy and Joseph in its jaws. Their limp bodies swung like soaked clothes on a windswept line. The cat scrambled back into the darkness with enough meat to see it through for the next couple of hours. This didn’t mean Carmichael and Codey were out of danger; not by any means.

‘Lucky escape, uh?’ said Codey, pressing the rifle into Carmichael’s back.

‘Where are your from?’ Carmichael said, sounding terrified.

‘Down in Grigcastle.’

‘Not far from me. I’ve got relations down there. Do you know, Alf Joslin?’ Carmichael whimpered. His panic was giving Codey goose bumps of delight.

‘Yes. Good mechanic. Fixed my car just a few weeks ago,’ he said crisply, ‘but let me ask you something; do you know Darryl Simmons?’

‘Darryl…Simmons?’ Carmichael said, as though the name meant nothing to him.

‘Yes. Darryl Simmons. Died a couple of years ago. Heart attack. Ring any bells… Lawrence?’ On hearing his first name Carmichael’s eyes widened.

It seemed like a good idea at the time. Carmichael had been the one with the idea in the first place. It was he who suggested the group go to the outward bound centre for the weekend to develop their interpersonal skills. It was he who suggested it would build moral within the workforce. Darryl Simmons was Carmichael’s understudy, and it was Carmichael who practically forced him into participating; much to Darryl’s annoyance.

‘How fitting you should die in the woods too,’ said Codey. ‘He should never have gone. You had to threaten him, though, didn’t you?’

‘He had potential, I just wanted him to realise it!’ squealed Carmichael.

‘If you hadn’t made him go, he’d have still realised his potential. All for a fucking weekend of rope swings and climbing frames. He told me how you casually told him that he attended or lost his job, and even when he told you of his complaints…’ Codey broke off and dug the rifle into Carmichael’s lower back, forcing him on to his knees. ‘Don’t dare look at me,’ Codey continued. ‘If you do, I will kill you…slowly’

Carmichael was at his wits end. Fear of death was one thing, knowing he was probably going to die was another, but not knowing how he was going to die was too much. He played the scenario in his head. Codey would shoot him, leave him writhing in agony for hours, the black cat would approach him, toy with him and finally tear him to pieces. He screamed in horror.

‘Did you know, Darryl well?’ asked Carmichael, his lip trembling.

‘He’s my brother. This is retribution. I’ve waited a long time for this. All I had to do was wait.’ And Codey had waited; he’d waited for his moment. Watched Carmichael from the shadows, and tracked him down like a hunter.

‘So, you’re going to kill me because I wanted your brother to come along with us?’

‘In one,’ Codey said coldly.

‘Don’t hurt me, please,’ he said.

‘Too late for that,’ Codey said. He took four steps back, and fired a shot that ripped open Carmichael’s left wrist. The man winced in pain, keeling over and gripping his left hand in agony. Codey stood over him and levelled the butt of the gun at his right shoulder. ‘Here’s the kitty!’ he lied, and sent Carmichael to the ground.

Lawrence Carmichael had never felt pain like it. He knew that if this intensity continued he’d be as dead as Joseph and Jimmy were. He wouldn’t even be buried properly; the kitty would see to that.

With both his arms out of action, Carmichael could only sit up and wait.

‘Had enough, Lawrence?’ whispered Codey. Carmichael despised his forename and looked up with disdain. Codey grabbed him by the collar, dragged him across the ground and then whistled loudly. The high-pitched sound travelled half a mile into the forest and found the ears of the black cat who having devoured Joseph, was now gnawing at Jimmy. It stretched its front limbs and slackened its jaw, and then in a turn of speed so unrecognisably sharp, it burst through the long bush and headed back to the two men. ‘I know what attracts Big Cats, Lawrence,’ Codey said in a threatening voice. ‘It’s amazing how much you can learn when you have the passion.’ He picked up Carmichael’s own weapon and pumped two bullets into his back. Carmichael jolted backwards and landed face up amongst the leaves and soil.

His final minute on earth was his most terrifying. The birdsong died, the ground shook, a shadow flitted across his vision and then the beast was upon him. Its jaws were the last thing Lawrence Carmichael ever saw.

By the time Carmichael’s body was swallowed, Codey had snuck away to the relative safety of the bushes from where he had wiped out Joseph and Jimmy. With the rifle that Darryl bought him at his side, he braced himself for the final killing. Suddenly, he was filled with deep anguish and shame that he didn’t expect. He had killed two innocent men (three innocent men, part of his mind kept reminding him), and now he was on the verge of destroying an animal; a feral creature that had terrified a number of folks, yes, but an animal, nonetheless.

Watching the magnificent creature stroll towards him, Codey wanted to weep. He looked at Darryl’s rifle and remembered how Darryl had always made things better. He’d always made him smile when he felt he couldn’t; made him do things that he felt were not within his capabilities. He tipped the gun, pressed his finger over the trigger and pulled.

The cat jumped back with fear in its eyes and sprinted back to the safety of the darkness. Fifty yards away, Codey Simmons lay dead.

*

Nine days later, the cat was killed by police marksmen who received a distress call from an elderly woman named Mrs Tanell. Sheila Tanell lived on the outskirts of Barfick and claimed that the beast was in her garden; officers heard no more of her story.

After shooting the cat to death, they searched the entire house and garden for the old woman, but eventually gave up.

When the carcass was cut open, there was no doubting where the undigested Mrs Tanell had ended.

The policeman present at the post mortem was even more stunned to discover the remains of four other bodies. Each had mysteriously died from gunshot wounds.

It became apparent that the remnants were those of the four men who were last seen just over a week earlier venturing into the B and W Forest.