Carniforest: A Bedtime Story

. . . circling the bear, like wolves circling an elk calf, the deer slowly closed the gap between themselves and their intended meal. The terrified black bear dint stand a chance in hell against the three large does. They were hungry and she was next up on the menu. With the speed of an arrow launched from a compound bow the largest of the trio was on the bear, fangs sunk deep into her throat. A final attempt to struggle free and then a life ending gasp, the bear was done and the feast was on. They ravaged their victim tearing flesh from the bone with no effort. When at last they were done gorging, all that remained of the once noble bear was some scraps of fur, blood soaked bones, and the skull staring up from the snow with what appeared to be tears in her now dead eyes.

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CARNIFORESTA bedtime storyBy Allan KelsonAuthorHouseCopyright © 2011 Allan KelsonAll right reserved.ISBN: 978-1-4634-2288-2Chapter One It had not rained this hard since the day I met my friend. We had gone through some rough times, Trent and I, but we always managed to come out on top, no matter what. As we sat there in the make shift enclosure we had hastily made for ourselves to escape the relentless February rain, we began to think back. We tried to avoid the subject as long as we could, but somehow recounting that most evil of times was inevitable. "Ya know" Trent began; If it hadn't been for those damn Radner's we could have probably made a go of it in Aspen. "I know, I know," I said, wishing the subject had not even come up. My companion Trent is a bulk of a man, standing all of 5'8" and tipping the scales at a whopping 275 pounds. He resembles a redwood trunk more than a man. I found it amazing that he had escaped, when so many others more fit and agile had fallen victim to the ordeal. But here he was none the less, and I was damn glad of it. Because what Trent lacked in physical attributes, he more than made up for in his eerie intelligence about our menacing enemies. And I'm sure that if not for my friend I wouldn't be here today. More than once I can remember him pulling my ass out of the fire just in time; or showing up guns blazing when I believed I had fought for the last time. You see Trent and I had been fighting this evil war for what seemed like an eternity, we had seen a lot, so much so that I wish I could forget a lot of the situations that we got ourselves into. There had been times that I was so terrified by the predicaments we found ourselves in that I had just wanted to curl up and cry. We had definitely seen the worst of the worst out here, and this couldn't possibly end soon enough for me. However I do know that someday when this is only a bad memory, I would be able to look back and know for certain that through it all there wasn't another living person, man or woman that could have watched my back better or done more to help me stay alive than Trent. By the same token I am sure he felt the same about me since I always seemed to be Johnny on the spot when he was in dire need. Although Trent was definitely more aware of our surroundings than me, I was able to be of help to him because of my expert marksmanship abilities. There had also been numerous occasions when it was me that came up with a strategy to get us through a hopeless situation. Together we made one hell of a team and I had no doubt that together we would emerge from this horror movie we now lived in, very much alive, war torn from battle but alive none the less. As we sat there in the rain filled forest talking about past victories and near misses, my thoughts eventually drifted back to a less hectic and dangerous time. It was New Years Eve, my wife Marty and I along with our close friends Bob and Joan Hammond had been celebrating since early in the evening. We were traveling along a dirt road outside Manitou Springs where our companions, the Hammonds' lived. Not one of us was really fit to be driving, but as usual I took the wheel. I felt safer driving than I would have felt in the passenger seat with someone else swerving and dodging traffic. As we made our way up the winding hill to their cabin, by cabin I mean "woodland mansion", our friends though we love them dearly do not know the meaning of frugal. Their cabin was a three story home on fifteen acres of heavily wooded land, just outside the Manitou Springs town limits. It consisted of five bedrooms, four full bathrooms, a kitchen that would rival any of the five star hotels, and a living room the size of a small house. Additionally there was a large billiards room with a wet bar and on the lower level a twenty five seat home theater and an Olympic sized swimming pool. Marty and I had stayed there on many occasions, since the Hammonds spent most of their time abroad. We were there so often that most of the other locals that lived nearby thought the home was ours and treated us as if we were the rich neighbors. As I prepared to turn into the long driveway to the cabin, I noticed an eerie light just over the ridge. I stopped the truck and trudged through the ankle deep powder till I could see over the edge. Below in the ravine was an overturned pick-up truck. I struggled to try and see if I recognized it, since we knew everyone who lived along this road. The snow was so heavy I couldn't even make out the color of the truck. With the rest of my fellow travelers passed out in my truck, I began to traverse the snow covered rocky incline towards the truck below. As I approached it from the driver's side I could see there was someone inside. I moved with a greater sense of urgency to reach the vehicle and hopefully help the occupants to escape the wreckage. I figured they had gone off the road because of the snow, and possibly the consumption of spirits celebrating the holiday. As I reached for the door I soon realized, that even if my perception for the cause of the wreck were correct, the circumstances surrounding what happened after that was no accident. The events that unfolded before me next will live in my nightmares for the rest of my life. I was startled back to reality by their horrible wailing. Something was obviously caught in one of the traps we had set before it started to rain. I wondered how long it would take for it to either die from its wounds, or be discovered by the other deer and be dispatched. "Hey Trent", "Shhhhhhh", he said, with a finger over his mouth. I waited for a signal from him before I spoke again. Trent had an uncanny ability to feel their presence even when no sound could be heard. His natural abilities have a lot to do with our survival success to this point. He lowered his finger, letting me know we were safe, at least for the moment. "Damn it Wiz, you're going to get us nailed one of these days. When you hear them screaming wait a while before you speak. Those damn things are always close by when the smell of blood is in the air". "I know and for the 87th time I am sorry". I always seemed to be the one making crucial mistakes, and Trent always kept me honest about it. I was about to begin saying what was on my mind, when suddenly the screaming turned to snarling and the woods seemed to come alive with that awful growl, the growl that has come to be known as, pre-death for anyone and anything that finds themselves in the wrong place. So far we have managed to stay alive through it all but it's not for a lack of ignorance and bad moves. We just seem to be a little luckier than most. Trying to shield himself from the noises of death and the relentless downpour, Trent had managed to fall asleep leaning against his rifle. We had not slept in three or four days and I was glad to see he was able. I listened a while longer and then I too fell into a restless slumber, the living evil was taking a break, the nightmares would begin. Marty and I had only been married a relatively short time. She was everything I was looking for in a wife. She was kind to a fault, an animal lover to rival most, she had a hippies' quality about her that made her appear exactly as she was, a peaceful happy go lucky friend of nature. We met online through one of those computer dating services, Match. com I think it was. It was a short time before we fell for each other and started dating. Our first date was a ride on my motorcycle to a bar in Manitou frequented by bikers. We sat and talked for a couple of hours effortlessly. I had a rule that I could only drink two beers when I was riding and so after a while we got on the bike and started for home. We went on several dates after that and moved into an apartment together a month later. Seven more months passed and we were married. We had a drive thru service at a Vegas chapel. We thought we would be happy together forever, and up until that New Years Eve we were. The party was elegant by anyone's standards. Everything you could want was there, from the finest food to the most luxurious drink. Off in one corner of the banquet hall a band played requests. There had been music and fun all evening and it surely would not end with the stroke of midnight, but that was still a while off as it was only ten fifteen. Everyone there had received a special invitation from our host, Colonel Jordan Rogers. He had been a dedicated Airman and officer in the Air Force for over 26 years, and had survived numerous conflicts in various wars. He was a young Lieutenant during Desert Storm, and a more matured captain in Bosnia. The Colonel finished up his career in Iraq, where he was wounded during the first few months of action there. After that he decided it was time to consider options and rather than make a widow of his young wife, he decided to surprise her and threw this party. He was giving this New Years Eve party for two reasons. The first was obviously because of the holiday, the second to celebrate with his friends and family his yet to be announced upcoming retirement. When Sarah, his wife, heard him announce his decision to retire she broke down and sobbed for the better part of an hour. She was so overjoyed at knowing she would have her husband back that she didn't know how to react. Sarah then spent a good portion of the night celebrating by dancing to nearly every song with my wife and Joan. The three of them had been very close friends for several years and they always had fun when party time came. We all danced, ate a marvelous five course gourmet meal, and made many return trips to the bar to get refills on our drinks. At that inevitable point when the alcohol began working its magic on me; I became the substitute lead singer for the band. I staggered around the stage, thinking for a short time that I was part of some classic rock band. I helped entertain the guests with a raucous and very slurred version of Free Bird. I was aware of the drunken quality of my singing, but, none the less it was received with a roaring round of applause by my equally inebriated friends. I took the stage a couple of more times, however the effect created by the first song could not be duplicated. As the night continued Marty and I made plans for what we would do after the festivities ended. We had decided that we would drop off the Hammonds', who had ridden with us to the party, and then head home, we enjoyed watching the New Year sun come up from our balcony. We had no way of knowing how short the remainder of our time together was, or the sinister series of events that would end it. I scrambled back up to the top of the ridge where I had left my wife and friends sleeping 5 minutes earlier. I was in shock, caused by what I had just witnessed 35 feet below in the red snow. All I could think of was getting back to my truck and getting out of there as fast and as far as I could. Before I could reach the safety of my vehicle I was stopped in my tracks, lying there in the snow ahead of me was a sight that no one should ever see. Laid out like sides of beef were my companions, brutally ravaged and dead. As I stood staring into the horrific blood stained heap that was once my wife and friends, all I could hear was an insane scream. I realized the scream I heard was coming from me, from my mouth. Almost as soon as I stopped screaming, I could hear it. The growl I was hearing was unbearably intense. At once I realized that the things, those evil snarling beings, were all around me. I will never know the series of events that led up to it, but Marty and the Hammonds had gotten out of the truck and were ambushed and consequently slaughtered by whatever had attacked those people in the accident below. If I was going to avoid the fate of my companions I would need to act now and act fast. As I turned to run I slipped to the ground hitting my face on the bumper of my truck. Blood began to flow out of the large gash on my cheek. It was then I realized what I was up against, by the glow of the headlights below in the ridge ahead of me, the ridge that I was going to investigate when the onslaught began, I saw them. There were at least five of them, possibly more in the shadows. I regained my footing and slid into my truck. I no more than slammed the door shut behind me when one of them rammed his massive antlers into the door breaking the glass. I started the truck to escape, but they all began ramming the vehicle. With thunderous booms they struck again and again, trying to separate me from my temporary safety. I floored the pedal and when the rear end righted itself I found myself sliding down the ridge with my enemy close behind. I shifted into four wheel drive and steadily gained speed and escaped the canyon. Still being pursued I hauled ass away from the grisly scene. I could not wrap my head around what I had seen, they were deer, but they were evil. The deer I had just seen, as unlikely as it sounds, had fangs. The ones that I saw in the light all seemed to have blood around their faces. They looked as though they had been face down in buckets of blood; the buckets, and the blood, were that of my dear Marty and my friends. What the hell had just happened? In a matter of a few minutes I had lost my wife and friends to some form of killer deer. And life as I once knew it had changed forever. I could not have known at that time just how involved I would become in this macabre story of deer and death, but soon enough I would become intertwined in a series of events that would haunt the minds of the most fearless of men. As I drove, I wept for the loss of my wife, I blamed myself for her death; if I hadn't gone to see the accident she and the Hammond's would still be alive and riding with me. I couldn't have known what was about to transpire but never the less I blamed myself. I would have to live with this for as long as I breathed. I awoke from the deafening silence, the rain had finally stopped. I scanned the area I had fallen asleep in and found my knife and .357 magnum still safely lodged in my belt. I was constantly checking to be sure they were with me because I was sure I would be in need of them both again. Trent had obviously risen before I did, I could smell the faint aroma of what had become the "new coffee". It was nasty but with a lack of the real thing it did the trick. "Thanks for the wake up juice bud", I said. "No worries Wiz, I was up anyway". One day Trent started calling me Wiz, he said it was short for Gwizzy since the situations I found myself in early on in our journey always left him saying gee wiz, or more often, what the hell? We sat there in silence for a good long time, sipping our coffee. Neither one of us wanted to talk about what we had heard the previous night. Although we had spent many a night amongst the monsters it was something that I would never get used to, no matter how long this ordeal continued. Inevitably the silence would end and we would be on the trail again, skirting our way through the sometimes dense forest keeping an ever vigilant eye and ear out for any sign that we may be walking up on some trouble we didn't want. We traveled strictly by the light of day for good reasons. One was that we would be better able to see further ahead and thus would be able to see what was around the bend before we got to it, another reason was because of the nature of the beast we avoided, they seemed more likely to move and feed at night. These deer or what used to be deer were unlike any animal I had heard of or seen since. They had developed an extremely nasty trait, these deer were carnivores. We had witnessed them devouring many animals including some that most certainly should be eating them, and under normal circumstances would have. The deer hunted in what seemed more like a pack of wolves, than any herd of deer I ever heard of. For reasons known only to our maker, these deer developed fangs and the need and desire to devour flesh. Like the werewolves of legend these deer traveled mainly at night, perhaps to catch their mammalian prey off guard while they rested or slept, and maybe it was to be less noticed as they traveled under the cover of night. There was certainly some daytime activity, we had many encounters during the daylight hours, but it seemed less likely that we would engage them during day, and even if we did we stood a better chance of defeating them in battle if we could see our enemies thus that's when we did the majority of our traveling. During our walk this day we encountered other travelers with the same goal we had, and that was to find a suitable place to hold up for a lengthy period of time thus increasing our chances for survival. We tried to convince them to travel with us because we believed we knew of such a place, and that was where we were heading. I described the castle to them that we were headed to, but whether they didn't believe me, or they had simply made up their mind to go the other direction, they declined. They said they had heard there was a place in Aspen that would be a good place to live for a while. It seemed that the more we tried to explain to them what had happened to the compound in Aspen the angrier they became. No matter what we said we could not convince them that we had left there a short time ago and the compound was overrun with deer as we left. They apparently got tired of hearing our story, bid us good luck, and continued their journey to what would surely prove to be a disappointing end to their travels. We had passed only a handful of people along our journey and hopefully these men would not be the last. They all seemed to be coming from the direction we were heading in, and having already been where we were headed they had no desire to join forces with us and travel together. We had the same reasons for not joining them in the direction they were traveling, since we already knew there was nothing to gain from a trip in the other direction. We both hoped that we weren't on a path of disappointment, and kept faith that the ones we passed hadn't come from as far as the castle. (Continues...) Excerpted from CARNIFORESTby Allan Kelson Copyright © 2011 by Allan Kelson. Excerpted by permission of AuthorHouse. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

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