The thick fog slowly swirled past the gaslamp, barely visible in the moonless night. Tendrils of fog swirled in the flickering light, like a creature alive. In between the evenly spaced lamps was impenetrable darkness. The city had been overly optimistic about expansion and placed these lamps in an otherwise open field, along muddy lanes they had faith would one day be brick roads. There were a couple of lone buildings, their shapes barely visible in the fog, windows with flickering lights, beacons in the dark. Somewhere out here was a killer, one who preyed upon those who used this as a shortcut to the city. The deeper darkness to the north was Chicago, pinpoints of light barely visible where the street lights followed the main road that ran along the edge of this land. Turning Elias looked behind him, back there was his home, amongst the urban sprawl that forms around any large city.
A train whistle sounded in the distance and echoed thickly across the damp field. Tonight he hunted, knowing that while he did he also became the hunted, by a man he had known all of his life. Recent events had led him to believe his uncle was a killer, and something even worse. Seven victims had been found in recent weeks, throats torn out, drained of blood, then gutted for the soft parts that lay within. Each one had been found near this open plot of land, a place where they had played as children. His uncle Matt was only two years older than him, and they’d grown up more like best friends than family. This had been their stomping ground as boys, and they both knew it well.
To the west the land became a dense bog, and the smell of damp earth and decay hung heavy in the air as he headed that way. To his right something blocked out one of the gas lamps about 100 yards away for a moment, then was gone. Whatever it was it made no sound as it moved and soon passed in front of the next gaslamp. What still perplexed him was the fact that he never noticed any change in Matt’s behavior. It was the bloody clothes with flecks of flesh stuck to them that he’d seen when he visited him two nights ago. He’d seen them heaped in a corner in the bathroom, waded up and sticky. Out of curiosity he had picked them up, and quickly dropped them when he realized what was on them. On leaving the bathroom Matt’s attitude seemed to change and animosity filled the air, his speech became more ominous, and his eyes had an eerie crimson gleam.
“Have you been to our old fort lately?” Matt asked.
“What? I haven’t had a reason to go there since we were kids. Now they got that new development going on out there, so maybe it’s not even there anymore.”
“No, it’s still there, hidden back in the bog. They haven’t torn up that area yet, the land’s too soft and swampy.”
“Oh, I didn’t know. Why did you ask?”
“Just curious.” Matt gave me a look that said it was more than just an off the wall comment, it was almost like a challenge of some kind.
That day when he read about the most recent victim, a young woman he knew well, and the fact that she had been found near the bog, he knew Matt was somehow involved. He had gone to his house to confront him about it. Walking towards the front door he saw Matt in the kitchen. As he watched Matt’s face melted, turning into something with thick short hair, and a mouth full of gleaming fangs. He must have gasped because the Matt thing turned his way, and he ran. Behind him he heard a guttural howl as the window shattered and something landed heavily on the ground. Elias silently moved into a thicket of bushes and hid in the darkness. For several long moments he heard it moving around stealthily, no doubt searching for him. In the distance there was a howling of some distant beast and Matt answered its cry, then turning ran off in that direction.
Elias went home, grabbed his shotgun, loaded it and went back out, heading for the bog. Somewhere out there on a small hill that stood above the surrounding swamp stood a stand of ancient trees. Beneath then was a giant thicket of thorn bushes that stood ten feet tall. On the south side, beside one of the old tree was a barely noticeable gap. Once you went through the gap there was a clearing inside that was ten to fifteen feet across, an oasis amid the thorns. Elias and Matt had spent many days there in their fort, safe from the world outside. Now that haven from his youth may have become something less than safe.
Standing at the foot of the bog, the fog swirling into the thicket of trees and undergrowth he took a deep shuddering breath. Ahead of him, deep within the undergrowth something large moved, going deeper inside the bog. Checking the gun to make sure that the shells were loaded and the safety was off he stepped forward. In front of him, hanging from one of the braches of a tree, was a tuft of thick hair. Reaching out he plucked it loose and tried to examine it in the darkness. It was very thick and course, and smelled musky, and faintly under the muskiness was a hint of something else, like soap?
Working his way into the thicket he finally found the gap into the hidden clearing and stepped inside. The smell of a wet animal was strong as he stepped out of the thicket. He sensed movement in front of him, and shadows shifted within shadows. Cocking the shotgun he lifted it up and pointed at the place he thought he sensed Matt.
“Matt?”
“Eliasss…” something answered.