Incident in Peace Valley

The night had started peacefully enough. Among those tall, beautiful trees, in this seemingly enchanted valley, it was hard to believe that absolutely anything could go wrong. This small region on the western coast of the United States seemed to be a haven, not like the heavily polluted cities, the monotonous suburbs, or even the tiny rural villages that made you sick to the stomach from all their ignorance and simple emotions.

The whole situation had taken place in Peace Valley, Oregon. Peace Valley was a name that, within time, would reek of irony. Still, when looking out upon the seemingly endless forests, over the acres of fertile land, even the most cold-hearted would be filled with a sense of kindness and warmth.

All of us under Officer Cooper knew differently. All of us, at first, were drawn int to the beauty land, but then again, all of us knew of the terrible threat that hid in this nearly unpopulated stretch of America.

Like I said, the night had started peacefully enough. A small rain had watered this land, clouding the sky. The few farmers that had taken advantage of the situation were in their homes, celebrating their soon to be grown crops. We officers had all stood at our posts, raincoats not doing any good to keep the water from soaking our clothes.

We had all grown sick of this hilly land, all of us yearned to go home to our families. We had just a few more nights in this valley. Assuming another body didn’t turn up, we were fine, and could go back to DC or wherever the hell the others lived. All of my FBI group was just praying that everything would remain calm, and no screams would ring throughout the night.

My post was on a secluded piece of land. I had friends within my FBI team, true, but damn how I wanted to be home again. I knew the others felt the same, maybe even more than me. This place, with tree branches swaying like some kind of ocean, ripples spreading with each gust of fierce wind, was no longer a haven.

"Looks like this is it." Cyrus commented over the radio. He had the closest post to me. I smiled at his remark, and hoped to God that it was true. Cyrus and I stood half the night, the puddles of water trickling between our feet.

That was before we got the message from Carl. Carl, the rookie in our group, had found something that would set the mood for days to come.

Carl had found puddles running red.

The body was like all others we had seen, stabbed over and over in the stomach, until it was nothing more than a bloody pulp of flesh. This time it was a farmer, one who hadn’t taken heed to the curfew that we had set. Evidently, he had paid the price.

By the time all five of us agents reached the site, the body had been placed under a sheet, surrounded by caution signs. Not that anyone would come out here, but hell, procedure was procedure.

The five of us stood morbidly around the figure. It didn’t mean anything. Although we’d check for fingerprints, we knew there would be none. All that this meant was that we wouldn’t be going home for another two weeks at best. We were stuck here.

Officer Cooper hadn’t shown up yet, but then again, he was always the last one at a crime scene. I guess it was his way of testing the people under his command. Although we all knew he would be here any minute, a sense of tension arose. With him, a feeling of justice was in the air. Without him, all hell broke loose.

Carl, with his young, boyish attitude, obviously didn’t catch onto our solemn mood. "So, uh, you think it’s the same guy?" He asked, attempting idle chit-chat.

Another agent, Richter, looked at him coldly. "How many goddamn serial killers do you suppose there are in this valley?"

Carl backed off defensively. "Whoa, what’s with you?" he asked.

Oh, no. Carl’s gonna get it. I thought. Richter’s temper is so short and with all this to add to it…

Richter moved until he was right up against Carl. "Listen to me, you little bastard. I’ve been with the bureau for fifteen years, and I know that this isn’t going to stop. You may think that you’ll be going home soon, but you won’t, this will go on and on, until either reinforcements arrive, or this whole area is quarantined, surrounded, and burned down! Do you understand me?"

Carl didn’t. "Well, Master Yoda, I’m sorry if I don’t have your experience, but what I do know is what’s important! You think you’re so big because you’ve been here longer than me, but that doesn’t mean anything! Just because your job isn’t doing itself doesn’t give you a reason for having a hysterical fit."

Richter turned around. The expression on his face showed that he was repressing anger. Behind him, Carl smiled. He had won.

The look vanished as Richter drove his elbow into Carl’s stomach. The rookie doubled over, only to be met by Richter’s knee. Carl fell backwards, blood spurting out of his nostrils. Richter punched forward but the shot sailed over Carl’s shoulder. Richter gave a brief gasp of pain as the rookie flung all his body weight into him. Carl, about fifteen years Richter’s senior, punched the older man’s gut twice, blood dripping out of his nose all over the place. Richter’s feet kicked up, sending Carl flying. The rookie hit a tree hard and passed out. Richter pulled himself up and lunged forward.

I leapt forward, holding Richter back. "Hey, calm down!" I shouted.

His strength threw me backward into a tree. I clutched my back in agony. "Oh shut up!" Richter bellowed. He ran up to the farmer’s body, throwing off the sheet.

"Damn you!" He kicked the body. "It’s your fault I’m here and not home! Couldn’t you have stayed inside? Why the hell did you have to go out, huh? If you had actually listened to us, you wouldn’t be dead! You and all your friends before you!"

He picked up the body and flung it forward. It bounced and twisted in a nauseating way. "GODDAMN YOU!!!!!!!!!" he shouted at no one in particular "Why do you kill these people? Right when we’re about to leave, you have to go and kill someone! Well, I’m sick of it! I’ll take you down any day. Come on, serial killer man, let’s fight! Get out of wherever you are and-AAH!"

A large man leaped out of the bushes, tackling Richter, pinning him to the ground.

Richter struggled to get up. He pushed, turned, and kicked, but the figure on him had him pinned. Richter moaned and gasped, when he suddenly found himself staring into the cold eyes of Cooper.

"Officer! Sir, I…" Richter suddenly realized what he had done in his rage. He glanced over at Carl’s unconscious figure. "Oh, Jesus…I…"

I smiled, despite my pain. I had known Cooper throughout my childhood, and ever since those early days, when Cooper had protected me from bullies, I knew that where Cooper went, authority followed. He had this way of staring at you, and making you instantly sober, free from panic, rational again. He was aggressive, true, but in a good way.

I knew all this because Cooper was my older brother. Even though he had a good ten years on me, that stopped nothing. Irrelevant of our differences, we were close friends. During childhood, he was my hero, my role model. He protected me, taught me, and encouraged me. In fact, I probably would never have never entered the FBI, had he not before me.

He had been troubled these past few months, even before we were sent here. His wife was considering divorce; his older son was a lonely troublemaker, the law always nipping at his heels. This all had him completely depressed, even before he had gotten stuck here.

Richter stared back at the figure leaning on the tree. "Oh, Christ, I’m sorry…"

Cooper glared at him. "You’re damn right you’re sorry. You’re the sorriest excuse for an FBI agent I’ve seen in a long time, and I’ve seen many a sorry excuse." Cooper himself glanced back. Cyrus, who stood over the unconscious figure, gave him the thumbs up, signaling that Carl would soon be back.

Cooper got up and paced across the grass. "Damnit, Richter. If this was any other night, in any other place, I would have you kicked out of the Bureau and sent home with your tail between your knees." He sighed. "But on this night, in this place…he was asking for it, and you let yourself loose. You’ll still be reprimanded and so will he, but only after this killer is caught. Are we clear?" Richter nodded his head, unable to speak. "How is he, Cyrus?" Cooper directed back at the tree.

No answer.

"Cyrus?"

It was at this point that we all spun around, and noticed the complete absence of both Carl and Cyrus. Cries of "What the hell?" And "Where’d he go?" arose. A thin trail of blood led away into the forest from the spot, and it was at this point that everyone unanimously and silently took off following the trail.

The first thing we saw when we cleared the tree was a corpse. It was neither Carl nor Cyrus. It was Cletus, a shepherd who many had thought the original victim of the murders, as he went missing the week of the initial killings. He lay, face up, a look of panic on his face. We took off into the forest seeking the two missing agents.

This was a lot harder than it sounds. The rain soaked the mud, washing it over with water. Everyone basically had to run around with a flashlight searching, blindly calling names. It was horribly confusing and overall unpleasant. It was not until we heard Larry’s frantic call over the radios that we realized what was going on.

All we heard was Larry saying "Oh, God, no, impossible, god, oh no, lord, oh no, I can’t believe it, no, oh god…"

Everyone took off to where Larry had found a mass quantity of blood. The only problem was, it wasn’t Carl’s.

Cyrus lay in a deep puddle, the water soaked red. His stomach had been stabbed over and over again with a knife. A bullet hole had appeared in between his eyes.

It was I who noticed the final gory artifact of the night. It was Carl’s severed thumb, lying by Cyrus’ head.

The night had claimed three more lives.

***

Larry and I sat solemnly the next morning. I swallowed a mouthful of omelet. Reinforcements would arrive in two days. Cyrus was dead. Carl was presumed dead. An autopsy was taking place. The bullets in both the shepherd and in Cyrus were from Carl’s gun. The omelet tasted like crap. Thoughts flew through my mind, every topic, every subject, blending together like the bacon and eggs in my breakfast. I looked at Larry, and saw the mixed expression on his face, and knew a similar mixture of thoughts was flying through his mind.

"Hey, wait a sec…" he muttered. "What if…what if Carl is the killer?"

I choked on a mouthful of food. "What?"

Larry went on. "I mean, think about it. Carl found the body first. The bullets were from his gun. Picture last night. Carl and Cyrus by the tree, the rest of us looking at Cooper. Suppose, Carl gets up out of the mud and takes off into the forest. Cyrus chases him, but Carl manages to shoot him. No, wait, scratch that idea. Say, Carl and Cyrus somehow split up. Carl runs into the shepherd. The shepherd draws a knife. Carl shoots him, grabs the knife, and upon finding Cyrus, drives the knife into him repeatedly. Cyrus, with his dying strength, shoots Carl’s finger off. Carl then, in a rage, fires a bullet into Cyrus’ head. Makes sense to me."

This idea kinda did make sense to me, too. The why element was uncertain but-wait a minute. My mind had found a flaw. "No, that can’t be. There were murders before Carl even got here." I told Larry in a clear voice.

Larry swallowed his bacon thoughtfully.

Richter ran into the cafeteria. Jogging up to my and Larry’s table he told us news in gasping breaths. "You…guys…better…get over to the…morgue. The doctor…wants to see all of…us." He panted. I had always thought of him as out-of-shape. Leaving our food to cool, the three of us set off for the morgue.

***

The head doctor behind the autopsy had found something. It was something that he could damn well call the most bizarre thing he had ever seen. All these murders made him uneasy, but when he had to do this, well, his door would be locked and watched tonight.

By now the FBI team was all in the room. The shepherd’s body lay, nude and dissected, on the table. Cooper impatiently drummed his fingers. With a slightly intimidated look on his face, the doctor began his speech. "Well, Agent Cyrus’ body was relatively normal. Cause of death was bullet wound to the head. This shepherd appeared normal originally, dead of natural causes. However upon flipping him over…"

The doctor flipped the body over, revealing a gaping wound in the back. The entire team gasped in unison. In the darkness, we had thought it was just a small gash, but now…it was huge.

His entire back seemed to be ripped open. One giant, jagged opening opened his spine, from his upper hip to the base of his neck. And it wasn’t a clean wound either, not like the kind a knife or even a saw would make. Holes were everywhere. Parts of the wound were deep and parts were barely torn at the skin. Some chunks were literally ripped out of him. It was almost like…something had been chewing at him.

The doctor raised a plastic bag. Within it lay an object, a bizarre, disgusting object that struck fear in all of us. "I found this protruding from a vertebrate in his spine. It was lodged in there deep."

It was a dog’s tooth.

"I did some research." The doctor explained. "This shepherd…he had a dog, which died some while ago. ‘Bout the time the murders began. It was turned in to the vets. Old thing, mangy, flea-ridden. Dead of heart failure. Thing was, they found its fur stained with blood, and several teeth missing. Its owner, Cletus here, was reported missing and presumed de-"

"We know about this." Interrupted Richter. "It was in our report. Dog biting owner who is mysteriously gone. Mysterious trail of blood leads into forest. What’s your point?"

Cooper growled silently. Richter was being a smart-ass. It was his nature, but it still was damn annoying.

The doctor glanced at Richter. "My point is that without medical attention, which this man clearly didn’t have, he would have been dead within several days!"

Richter backed off. It was true. So much blood would be lost, so much dirt in…this guy should have been dead. But his corpse hadn’t been there before. The area had been searched over many times.

"Secondly," the doctor went on. "This man’s organs are all decayed. Decomposed. He’s practically a skeleton, inside."

Larry uttered a muffled "Jesus bloody Christ" under his breath. "So, this guy died…"

"When the dog bit him, yes." The doctor brushed some blood off his coat.

"So…how does his corpse end up in the middle of a forest, an area that has been searched many times? Beats the hell out of me. I just know that-,"

A young woman burst into the room. Sweat flowed down her face. I knew she was a police official, probably the only one in a town this small. I guess she’d had a cushy job ‘till now, and with all these murders, panic was her main emotion. She turned to Cooper. "Sir…I’ve just had a report. Your Agent Carl…he’s been seen in the very eastern edges of the valley. On the cliffs…"

Before she even finished, we were all in our cars, driving.

***

The cliffs loomed up ahead. Before, we had all been on post within the valley, so the external cliffs were new territories. The eastern ridge, red rock, barren of vegetation, jutted up like some kind of bloodstained jaw. Our cars rode up a thin trail, climbing to the top of that steep, mountainous ledge.

We reached the farmhouse from which the 9-1-1 call had been made. What we saw was not a pretty sight, but my mind was on such an overflow, I could barely recall exactly what we saw.

A screaming sobbing woman. A bloody corpse, sprawled on a fence. Pigs running around, squealing. My husband! He was my husband! Footsteps leading into the forest. He shot him with one of dem new guns he did! Harry tried to stop him but he was too fast! Harry’s head, slack jawed, half severed from the body. Chunky flesh everywhere. Into the forest! After killing my Harry he went into the forest!

I can remember the team taking off into the forest. I drew my gun and leapt over bushes, randomly calling out "CARL!" in a bizarre and useless way. It was just one of those things you do, you know? It’s clear you wont get a reaction, but just for the hell of it you call out a name.

After several minutes, I realized I was alone. My team was elsewhere. Well, what remained of my team, now that Carl and Cyrus were gone. Alone I ran through the bushes. Alone I frantically called Carl’s name. And it was alone that I witnessed the showdown on the cliff ledge.

I’ll retell this as good as I can remember. From my vantage point, I could see a cliff ledge. It hung out over the valley, a board, something like those pirate movies where you could walk the plank. On the opposite end was a cave, a small one, but a cave nonetheless. And on the ledge…

Was Carl.

Carl was different. He swayed uneasily, and slipped, tripped, and acted unbalanced, like a toddler just learning to walk. It was a disturbing thing to see. This was a distance away, so I couldn’t make out his facial expression.

Evidently, I wasn’t the only one to spot Carl on that ledge. I watched from my spot as Cooper leapt over down from above and directly across from Carl, his back facing the drop-off downwards. Cooper raised a gun at Carl, and said something (I was too far away to hear). Carl just swayed there. Cooper repeated himself, but Carl remained unmoving. Cooper reached for his radio to report in. In that one moment of uneasiness, Carl whipped out his gun. Cooper fired first, his bullet hitting Carl square in the chest. Carl uttered a gasp and stepped back as his blood splattered the side of the cave. Then, just as fast as Cooper, Carl fired, the bullet nailing Cooper dead on, right between the ribs.

In that one second of Cooper’s dying gasp, I felt my heart leap into my throat, and explode there. Suddenly, the most bizarre memory entered my mind. We were just kids. Images, all sorts of images, leapt into my mind. Cooper, helping me study for the big tests. Cooper, bringing back wood and nails so that he could build me and my friends a tree house. And back in the past, way long ago, one of those memories you’re not supposed to remember, Cooper teaching me my first word.

What happened next was something I can’t clearly recall. My eyes were so blinded with tears, my mind with grief. As I remember, Cooper reeled back with the bullet. He fell back, over the edge of the ledge. But then, in a move that I had then labeled as "fucking bizarre", Carl leapt out and caught Cooper. He held him, hanging precariously over the ledge, and then pulled him back into the cave. More gunshots were fired. An uneasy pause. Then Cooper limped out. He staggered, then tripped, falling over the side of the ledge. As it was the side, he didn’t hit the drop-off, but instead the rocky hill. He bounced off it, almost like some kind of can, and rolled downward, his body rising and falling, smacking the ground on each fall with a sickening sound. Finally it fell off the end of the hill, and plummeted down into the dirt.

I sat alone, tears in my eyes, screaming frantically that Cooper was dead.

***

The night was cold and bitter. Larry, me, and Richter were resting in an encampment on the high canyon wall. We had driven our mobile quarters up to this place, as it was where the last murder had occurred. Mystery and confusion filled the air. Carl, as far as we could tell, killed Cooper. But Carl was dead…

last night

A bullet from Cyrus’ gun had been found inside his brain. It was impossible that he could have even been breathing on his own today, much less in a state to kill Cooper. On the back of Carl’s neck was another thing we hadn’t expected. A slash completely ripped open the back of his neck. Not just some tiny slash, but a huge one, one that would nearly instantly kill the rookie in our group. This whole god-damned affair didn’t make sense.

The forest area where Cooper’s body might have been had been found was empty. That, for variety, was explainable, as the corpse might have rolled off, or even sank into the mud.

I sat, in my small room, reading a book. It was some dumb horror book, load of short stories. The stories weren’t so bad, as the fact that I had seen twenty times worse horror out here.

And as I lay in my bed, the book dangling from my hand, that something in my mind clicked. Damned if I know what it was, but something told me exactly what was happening. It’s like there was a puzzle, and all the pieces were there, and you just needed this one little boost to show you how to do it. Well, that’s what it was like. Something in my book was the final boost, not that I can remember what it was.

I shot out of bed. Everything was perfect. In explanation, I mean. I knew entirely what had happened.

Leaping out of bed, I ran into Larry’s small room. He glanced at me odd, and asked in a calm what the hell I was so excited about. And slowly, I explained to him.

"Suppose," I began "Suppose there’s some animal-no, just some…thing. Maybe a mutant or an alien or something. Just suppose there is. Now, suppose this thing is like a parasite. It needs a host to survive. Like those worms, y’know? That live in your body. But this thing is an exception. It’s evolved much farther than worms. It can utterly take control of its host’s body. Use it for its purposes…"

"Purposes being what?" Larry asked. A look of doubt was on his face.

"I…don’t know. But what it wants is to move up. To find a stronger host. It will keep switching hosts until it reaches what it considers the most powerful and superior host. Now, suppose this thing can’t take over a body if it’s alive. Suppose it has to be-"

"Dead?" Larry asked. "Jesus, Ken. Have you fucking lost it? I mean what are we talking about here, Night of the Living Dead? Are you willing to tell me that all these murders have been done by some kind of…zombie?"

"Look, suspend your disbelief for one minute, okay? Play this one out." I saw Larry bob his head. "Now…the…thing first, oh I don’t know how to say it, surfaces near Cletus’ home. It sees this mangy, dead dog. It enters it. The next thing it sees in its new body is Cletus, staggering out. It leaps on him, mauling, ripping with its teeth. Blood, flesh everywhere. It enters Cletus, and finds him to be a much more powerful host than the dog, therefore abandoning the dog’s corpse.

"Now, Cletus is in better shape than most people here. But still, the thing fulfills its nature, going around, killing off people, entering them, and ditching the bodies, making this whole thing seem like one giant serial-killer. It goes on like this for months.

"That’s when we come in. Lonely night. Carl, lying with a nosebleed, us facing the other way. The shepherd sneaks up behind Carl, slits the back of his throat open, and enters him. Before Cyrus realizes what has happened, Carl grabs him and pulls him back, dragging him into the forest, where he stabs him over and over. Cyrus, in a dying movement, fires twice, first shooting off Carl’s thumb, and then landing one in his head. With interest, the beast-Carl draws its gun, points at Carl, and fires.

"Now, it moves on. It climbs up the hills and walks up the trails to the valley edges in Carl’s body. It kills old Harry here, and deeming him worthless, enters the forest. Our chase ensues, and the confrontation between it and Cooper occurs. That’s why Cooper’s shot did it no damage. As it tries to kill Cooper, it sees him falling over the ledge. That’s not good. Cooper is, after all, a healthy specimen. If he fell over, it would be the loss of a good body. It pulls him into the cave, in an attempt to take over him. However, Cooper isn’t dead. A shoot-out ensues within. Cooper manages to defeat Carl, then walks out. He is exhausted and clumsy, and accidentally falls to the side of the ledge, dying on the fall."

I glanced at Larry. His face was one of terror, his mouth open in awe. He believed me now. "Jesus…" he muttered "So…it is a parasite, then? But…" Larry muttered. "There are things we must know. Like what exactly it is. And whether it’s dead now."

"We’ll think about those later." I motioned towards the door. "C’mon. We gotta tell the others."

Just as I stood up to go for the door, it opened on its own. I drew my gun, and lowered it. It was just Richter.

Larry stood up. "Richter! We know who did it! It’s all explained. We-OH SHIT!!!!!"

Richter fell forward. As he did, we all noticed the four bullet holes in his back. Larry leapt out the door, inadvertently. Just as he did, a hand around the corner grabbed his throat. Larry gasped and choked. I couldn’t see whose hand it was, I just ran to help him. I tugged, trying to pull the fingers apart. And as I did, I saw something that made me let go of Larry and fall back onto the floor.

It was Cooper’s wedding ring.

I could recognize the thing anywhere. The solid gold band, full of nicks and scratches, easy for Cooper to remove whenever he went undercover. I fell back. In the panicky mess of thoughts, I recall Larry getting dragged off, screaming. I recall myself jumping up and locking the door. I recall a heavy pounding against it. And I recall my realization.

My theory had been almost right. All until the point where Carl had pulled Cooper into the cave. Inside, Carl had fired several more times to insure that Cooper was dead. The thing then entered him. Unused to the new body, it tripped upon stepping on the ledge and fell off. However it knew that there was no good life down below the valley. It ran back up to where it had last seen healthy specimens. Up here. It couldn’t have been that long a run, for something that feels no exhaustion. And now…it was coming for us.

I remember the fear, the shock of the realization.

Finally, after I had steeled myself, I picked up my gun and pressed my ear to the door. I heard a loud shuffling. It was waiting for me. Slowly I opened the window and climbed out.

Stealthily, I moved around the outside of the Mobile HQ. I crept up to a window and peered in.

There, leaning on my door, was Cooper. Only this wasn’t Cooper. This was something else, some beast of hell. His body was covered in slashes and bruises. Several bullet holes opened him up. His right arm seemed practically dangling from its socket. He leaned on the door as if he couldn’t stand on his own.

Then he swiveled his head, and looked right at me. Although with his eyes, it couldn’t be called looking. His eyes were empty blank, pallid. If the eyes were the window to the soul, then either these windows needed cleaning, or there was no soul. Personally, I think it was the latter.

The thing raised one of Cooper’s hands, the one that held the gun. It pointed it straight at me and fired. I had leapt away, and just in time as the window shattered behind me. The doorway burst open and there was Cooper, swaying like a scare-crow, with his dead-man eyes.

I ran. I ran like hell, away from that thing. I could hear its lumbering footsteps behind me, chasing me down. It fired several shots blindly. My mind was so cluttered I can’t remember exactly what happened. I just vaguely remember running into caution tape. Falling, flying, hurtling down. My arm, pulling down under me with a mortifying SNAP! My head thudding on dull stone.

And then, my memory is vivid again. I laid on the exact ledge where Cooper, the true Cooper, had died. The thing leapt down and landed right next to me. It raised the gun again and fired. I rolled between its legs as the bullet hit the ledge behind me with an explosive sound. Leaping into the cave, I realized I had hit a dead end. The thing turned Cooper’s head. It pointed its gun right at me. I felt that in that damp, cold cave, I would die, and my body would serve as yet another envoy of that thing.

CLICK.

The gun made an empty noise. I realized it was out of ammunition. The thing peered curiously at it. In that one second, as it stared into the barrel of the gun, I felt all my rage against this abomination boil up within me.

I leapt forward, pinning the thing to the wall. I kicked it hard in the stomach (which shook in a sickening way) and pushed it to the floor, holding it down with my foot. I grabbed the gun in mid-fall, reloaded it, and aimed down at my former-brother’s head.

And fired. His head shot up with the blow. I fired again. One of his empty eyes exploded into a cloud of vitreous humor. I fired again and again and again.

The body lay silent. Smoke rose from the barrel of my gun. A silence filled the room, like a smooth silky curtain. I looked down into his empty face. In the gaping hole that was his face…I saw the thing.

I believe that for some things, there are no words. This creature was one of them. The closest thing it resembled was some kind of pulsating beetle, with eight legs. Its body quivered and writhed like a bowl of gelatin. It was about as big as Cooper’s head, and fit in like a nut in a shell. It was full of holes from my shots. It twitched its multiple legs, striving to be alive. I sat for a while, and watched it squirm and writhe, my mind full of morbid fascination. And finally…it stopped.

I backed away from it, holstering my empty gun. Breath came back to me. In and out air flowed as I stepped away from the smoking corpse. My eyes were averted from the grisly mess the whole time. I did one foolish thing as I left the cave though. I looked back at the thing.

I glanced at the corpse of the thing. It was sitting up, not dead at all. It stared at me with its insect-like eyes. As I stared into them, I saw Cooper. It was the same Cooper I saw on the ledge, uttering his dying gasp. He uttered it over and over in the eyes of that thing.

I screamed. Throwing everything from my mind, I ran, climbing the cliff, ignoring all pain to my broken wrist.

***

What happened afterwards, you might ask. Little did. I got in Mobile HQ, and radioed the town for emergency police and medical help. They came, eventually, and bandaged up my broken wrist.

I was escorted back to Washington. After some time in a hospital for all my cuts and wounds (I did fall down while climbing) I reported to the head of the FBI. I told him my story, just as I have told you. He listened intently, and then ordered the government to do what they have done in previous situations.

Peace Valley, Montana is now a top-secret high priority military zone. It is kept off all maps, and is surrounded by electric wire. The cave where Cooper’s remains lie to this day is barricaded fiercely, not by men, but by cameras, robotic guns, and high-voltage fences. Soldiers patrol the outside of it day and night. What happened to the people in there? I don’t know. But they are now either high-level officials or just more corpses on the government’s high body tab. Who knows?

As for me, I went back to my home. I rebuilt my life without Cooper. I financially supported his grieving family for a while, and then they moved on. I married several years later, had two kids. Now I live with my wife and sons up in Seattle. My boys (twins) are both eight, now. It’s been thirteen years since Cooper died, and I mourn my big brother no less.

To this date, there are many more questions that I still don’t know the answer to. What the hell that thing was remains a mystery. It might have been some kind of mutation. You know, something gone wrong in evolution. It might have been an alien, landing on Earth right in Peace Valley, attempting its course in colonizing Earth.

There are other questions, too. Whether that thing is dead or alive I’m not sure. When it looked at me with its memory recalling eyes…I could have sworn it had twitched. And another question, this one more recent. I’ve known it had always wanted to find the most powerful host, moving from one minor one upwards. Now I’ve begun to wonder…what would it do when it had reached its most powerful host?

But these are things I pray I will never know the answer to.

Bio:I was born in Saint Petersburg, Russia. I live in California and enjoy travel. I have lived in Italy, France, Japan, and several other countries and am fluent in numerous languages. I hope you enjoyed the story!

E-mail: donbruce@rocketmail.com

URL: http://www.geocities.com/Area51/Labyrinth/5122

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