The Night Has Teeth

The Night Has Teeth

by

Randy Speeg



         “Are you sure that you don't want to pull over?” Carrie asked.

         “Yes, I'm sure,” Steve replied, glaring at her with his stop-nagging-me look.

         “The rain is starting to get heavy,” She said looking out through the windshield. The wipers squealed back and forth across the cold, foggy glass. Carrie leaned forward and switched on the defroster. “I can't even see the road signs anymore until we are right on top of them.”

    Steve heard the concern in her voice and the good husband side of his brain kicked in. “We're fine honey, it won't be that much longer before we get to the Virginia border. We'll probably out drive the rain before we get there.” As the words came out, he wasn't even able to convince himself. Despite the many times he had driven across this semi-mountainous West Virginian highway, on his way home to visit his folks, he still managed to get disoriented. “Baby, can you turn on the radio, maybe we can find a weather report.”

***

         The report given by the radio's static ridden voice didn't do anything to sooth Carrie's nerves. The rain was going to continue throughout the night. She looked out her window at the trees, shadowy hulks climbing up into the gloomy night. The forest beside them brightened with a flash of lightning.

         “What was that?” Carrie gasped.

         “What was what?”

         “I saw something, out there.”

         “I was watching the road baby, was it an animal…road kill?”

         Thunder boomed over their heads. Carrie jumped. She glanced out her window praying to not see it again. She didn't.

         “An animal?...Yes,” She said catching her breath. “But, it wasn't dead. It was...digging, I think.”

         “Digging?”

         “And it was...big...like a bigfoot, or something.”

***

         They spent the next few minutes in silence. The news on the radio slipped into a live version of Garth Brooks' The Thunder Rolls. Carrie glanced at Steve, who had his eyes glued to the highway, wondering what he was thinking.

         I know what he's thinking. He's thinking this is just like all the other times.

         And he'd be right. It was like the other times. All the times when she had seen something no one else had seen. She knew he didn't believe her, but she also knew, deep down, Steve wanted to.

***

         This had been happening to Carrie her entire life. It began with seeing odd creatures outside her bedroom window when she was nine, and by twelve the ghostly lights in the sky began to appear. It was as if they followed her everywhere, and only she could see them.

         No, that's not right. Others would see them—those UFOs, aliens, guardian-damned-angels. Fuck if I know what they are—but it was like their brains had a filter that blocked out the truth of what their eyes saw.

         And these things would vanish every time she attempted to point them out to others. The creatures were even more elusive than the lights—not only because they got away faster, but they came around less often—and for that, she was glad.

         Thank God for small favors. Carrie thought. Those nasty things scare the shit out of me.

***

         She looked out the window, remembering the thing she had seen a few moments ago.

         Was it one of them? Surely not all the way out here, and none of them had been that big before. Maybe I had seen a bigfoot after all? Carrie found some strange comfort in that thought, and then shuddered. Carrie, you are one seriously screwed up chick, you know that? Yes, unfortunately, she knew that all too well.

         The rain was harder now, falling in thick crystalline sheets. She stared through the water as it twisted and distorted the roadway ahead of them. She admired the hypnotic symphony of white lines and reflected halogen glow until her attention was caught again by something out ahead of them.

         “Steve, do you see that?”

         Steve gave a reluctant sigh and looked out toward her side of the highway. He expected to see nothing, but was surprised by the bright orange object they were approaching. Through the blurry, rain streaked windshield, he recognized the road sign but couldn't make out what it said.

         “Did you catch that?” He asked glancing to his wife.

         “Road Construction...Flagger Ahead.”

***

         “I never heard anything on the traffic reports about construction.” Steve said perplexed. He turned the radio dial and Garth hissed out of existence, replaced by silence.

         He kept turning until the numbers looped back to the beginning and stopped at the station that had been playing The Thunder Rolls, now just as silent as the others. Steve turned the volume up. A steady hiss of static poured from the speakers. It was as if the entire rest of the world had vanished from the airwaves. Steve shut the radio off.

         “I know we aren't that far into the hills, must be the weather.”

         Carrie didn't say a word. She looked pale. He started to ask her a question then stopped. He had seen that look before—the answers to any questions that followed that look were never pleasant.

***

         Steve lost himself in memories of the last time he saw that look on Carrie's face. They had stopped at a rest area a few hours before the rain started. Steve checked the Toyota's oil while Carrie used the restroom. Steve walked up to wash his hands when she came out holding the tiny white stick in her hand. The look on her face told him the answer. They had been trying for a baby for months now.

         Carrie turned to face the wall, not wanting him to see the tears welling up in her eyes. Steve, not wanting to leave her alone just now, opted to use the drinking fountain to clean his hands and dried them on his jeans. He hugged his arms around her, and didn't say anything. He knew she responded to his touch more than his words.

         They were both staring at the glassed in bulletin board next to the state highway map that was telling them YOU ARE HERE. The board was almost completely filled with missing person flyers. Steve had never seen so many in one place, not even in the post office where he worked. He looked at the faces of men, women, and children. His mind went to the child that he may never have, then Carrie began humming.

         That haunting tune of hers she always hummed or sang. The tune he remembers from the first time they met, when the whole world except for her vanished. Nothing he could do but go to her.

         He forgot about the child that wasn't. The world slipped away, and all that remained was Carrie and her song.

***

         Carrie shaking his arm brought him back to the present. “Steve, look.” Her voice trembled.

         Up ahead of them orange and white construction barrels, spaced across the two-lane highway, blocked the road. A sign—illuminated by road flares—read DETOUR and the arrow pointed to a tiny dirt road that cut into the forest to the right of them. Orange cones placed on the roadway cut a curved path directly onto it.

         Behind the barricade of barrels stood a tall man wearing a high visibility vest and a hard hat—but his resemblance to a road-worker ended there—he waved one of those big lava-lamp looking flashlights toward the dirt road.

         Steve slowed down as they approached this scene, watching the man—his face invisible in the dark except for every few seconds when his waving flashlight passed by. Steve was trying to piece together the flashes of the man's image to get an idea of what he looked like. He could make out a rather large, unnaturally elongated, chin. Deep coarse wrinkles—or were they scars?—marked his face. And deep set red eyes. Red? No, that must  have been the reflection of the road flares playing tricks of light...right?

         “I don't see any construction.” Carrie said peering through the windshield. “And why would anyone work in this weather anyhow?” She looked at the dirt road the sign and that odd worker were directing them to. “Steve, I don't want to go down there.”

         “Neither do I hon, but we don't have much choice.” Steve pulled off the highway and onto the detour. There was brief rumble of gravel under the tires as the pavement transitioned into dirt. Steve let out his breath, which he hadn't realized he'd been holding in since he began looking at that strange man.

         The little Toyota's shocks yelled out in agony as it rocked up and down over the unpaved road. Crooked branches scratched across the sides of the vehicle. The headlights did little to light their way through the pitchy blackness.

         Steve looked in the rearview mirror and could no longer see the lights from the highway. He glanced down at the fuel gauge—less than a quarter tank—and hoped that this detour wasn't a long one.

***

“Steve, slow down!” Carrie hollared noticing how fast the car had begun to propel itself through the forest-walled tunnel the road had become. The only things visible outside: trees, and dark.

         “We don't have a lot of gas hon...I don't want to get stuck out here.”

         Carrie looked at Steve's face and was unnerved by what she saw there. She had always known her husband to be strong and fearless. What she saw now, growing in his features were uncertainty and fear.

         Suddenly a large shadowy thing bounded into their path. Steve slammed the brakes. There was a brief crunch of metal, and then the shrill scraping of claws against steel and glass as the huge creature rolled onto the hood and scurried up the windshield onto the roof. Silence. Long scratches scarred the windshield.

         They looked at each other knowing the other's exact thought—What the hell was that? Steve hit the gas, the car jumped forward and the thing rolled down the back windshield, across the trunk, and onto the ground with a wet thud.

         They both turned peering out the back. “Go, just go!” Carrie yelled, but Steve just sat there; eyes wide, jaw dropped.

         “I want to find out what the hell that was.”

         “It's just a stupid bear. This is the forest Steve.”

         He looked at her with gapped amazement. “We both saw that thing...that wasn't a bear.”

         “Whatever it is, it's dangerous...look what it did to the windshield!”

         “It's probably dead. Is that what you saw early on the side of the highway?”

         Steve's question was answered by a low rumbling growl from behind the car. A monstrous clawed paw—covered in coarse dark gray fur—reached up and gripped the trunk.

         “Shit!” Steve shifted into drive and floored the gas pedal. The car launched into motion and the paw fell away; the claws ripping jagged lines through the metal. Steve looked in the mirror: it stood up on two legs and roared, it's eyes—reflecting the taillights—glowed red in the rain.

***

         As far as Carrie could tell the creature did not follow them. She kept herself turned to the backseat watching for it to come charging up the road. She was unprepared for the sudden stop when Steve slammed on the brakes once again. She flew toward the dash and would have cracked her skull had she not been gripping the car seat so tightly out of fear. She pulled herself back up and saw Steve panting for breath. She followed his eyes to see the old rusted junker that sat across the one lane road. There was no way past it: the forest's edge encroached upon both sides.



         “What kind of fucking detour is this?” Steve exclaimed hoarsely.

         Steve killed the engine and listened, expecting to hear the wet patter of huge paws rushing toward them. No sounds came out of the forest.

         “What do we do now?” Carrie asked, holding back tears, but Steve could hear them in her voice. He opened his door and stood up without exiting, raising his head up over the roof to get a better look ahead of them, past the junked car.

         “I think I see a light up there,” Steve said as he reached in and turned off the headlights. “Looks like a porch-light...probably a cabin, let's go.”

         “Go?” Carrie asked surprised, “Go where?”

         “Well, we can't just sit here, maybe we can use their phone? Our only other option is to going back in the direction of that thing.” Steve grabbed a flashlight from the backseat, shut the door, began to walk around the junker. Having no choice, Carrie got out and followed him.

         The cabin wasn't hard to find, the dirt road led right to it, and then ended. Steve saw a sign post sticking up crookedly from the ground. He raised his flashlight beam up the rusted skeletal remains of the post until it came to rest upon the sign perched at the top. NO OUTLET. “Great fucking detour!” Steve spat out sarcastically. He looked at Carrie, who was staring off to the far right of the cabin.

         “Look over there.” Carrie said and Steve swung the beam over in the direction she was pointing. The light revealed dozens of old, stripped-down, rusted out cars. They were scattered all about the clearing surrounding the cabin.

“I think I hear an engine; maybe the road continues over there?” Steve took his wife's hand into his and they began walking again.

***

         “There's your engine.” Carrie stopped next to an odd generator homemade from a car engine. Steve examined briefly, “This means they don't have have city power, and likely they won't have a phone either.” Steve climbed up the porch steps. Carrie right behind him followed.

         The porch-light that had led them to the cabin was actually an industrial sized bug zapper; like the generator, it was also home made. A hooked mechanics light with a wooden frame nailed around it, the openings covered with chicken wire and electrical wires leading to a rusty fuse box bolted into the log wall of the cabin. Below the bug zapper was a rotting pile of flies, mosquitoes, and various other unidentified flying insects.

         The windows were all boarded up from the inside; there was no way to tell if there were lights on. Steve knocked and listened for footsteps. After a few seconds, he knocked again and put his ear to the door.

         “Steve,”

         “Shh, I don't hear anything in there”

         “Steve,”

         “Carrie, I'm try—”

         She grabbed his shoulder abruptly and spun him around. He looked back toward where they left the car and saw the huge, shadowy bulk, and the glowing eyes. “Shit!” He wheeled around and began pounding on the cabin door. Almost instantly, the door opened.

         “Come in, quickly,” whispered a soft female voice.

         Steve grabbed Carrie's hand and pulled her inside. The young woman who opened the door shut it hastily behind them.

         The inside of the cabin was bathed in shadow, lit by only a few candles. They could barely see the woman standing by the door. “You'll be safe in here.” She spoke so softly; her voice was almost a perpetual whisper.

         “What's out there?” Steve asked between heavy gulps of breath.

         “The Night...It has teeth.” The woman spoke matter-of-factly. She moved away from the door, her movements were fluid and ghostly, she seemed to almost glide. Steve still had not gotten a look at her face; the room was so poorly lit. Carrie had her face pressed into Steve's shoulder sobbing from fear. He rubbed her back and made shushing sounds.

         “Does this road have an outlet...Miss?” Steve asked as the woman entered what appeared to be the kitchen.

         “Road?” She laughed softly, the sound almost a giggle. “That's our driveway, there are no roads around here.”

         “Then why the hell did the construction detour us through here?”

         “I don't know...that is most odd” Her voice came from farther away; she was no longer in sight.

         Steve sat Carrie onto a couch, the plastic covering crinkled loudly beneath her. He kissed her then turned to walk into the room the woman had gone into. “Listen, do you have a telephone or something?” He entered the empty kitchen, lit by a three-candle sconce sitting on the table. “Miss?” She was nowhere to be found.

         “Weird...” Steve turned to go back to Carrie and ran straight into the wall. The doorway he just walked through was gone. “Owe! What the fuck?”

         He spun around in a complete circle. Nothing, but four walls.

         “Steve,” a sultry young female voice echoed to him from behind.

         He turned to see the woman ascending a staircase that was now where only a wall stood a moment before. He saw her shapely legs under the sheer nightgown, and then she vanished up the stairs.

         This is nuts, he told himself. I'm loosing it.

         “Hey, stop!” Steve shouted and stepped to the bottom of the stairs,

         She was gone. He stared up into the dark and then he heard the song. The sweet lulling tune that he knew so well. Carrie's song. Without knowing what he was doing, he began to climb the stairs.

***

         Carrie sat motionless on the couch, unblinking, her lips moving; mouthing words, but no sound escaped them. She kept repeating what that woman had said, over and over in her mind.  The Night...it has teeth—The Night...it has teeth—The Night... She was startled out of her shock by the sound of the front door knob turning.

         “Steve—”She began to yell out for him, but then fell silent when she saw the solid wall where he had gone. The door opened and a man walked in closing the door behind him. He was very tall and lanky from what she could see in the room, now only lit by one candle, which sat on the mantel.

         He stepped toward her and she saw the orange vest he was wearing. It's that road-worker, what's he doing...? Her thought was cut off as he stepped close enough for her to see his face. His face was covered with deep-set wrinkles. He must have been a hundred years old. Closer. No, not wrinkles. Scars, severely deep scars—his face was ruined with them. Closer. No, not scars...

         They were now bleeding, dripping wounds—a piece of flesh fell from his face and smacked wetly onto the floor. Carrie screamed.

         “I'm sorry, did I scare you?” His voice was deep and rough, almost a growl. “Maybe you'll like this better?” In a blink of her eye, his face was healed and young. Even his filthy construction clothes had now become a new clean suit.

         “We've been calling you home, baby.” He said, his voice now sweet and gentle. He took her hands and lifted her from the couch. “Come now, your sisters are waiting to see you.” He began humming a tune. Her tune. How does he know my song? She wanted to resist, but all she could do was follow.

***

         Steve followed the song the stairs. The door at the top opened for him and he entered without pausing. Inside his mind, he was yelling at himself to stop, but the song was too strong.

That siren song filled his skull with sweet hypnotic tones. The room inside was lit with a single bulb hanging loosely from the ceiling. It flickered on and off, creating a disorienting strobe effect. In front of him was the woman lying on a bed. He could see her only during the brief flickers of the bulb. She writhed on the bed, the sheets—some kind of vinyl or plastic—made low crinkling sounds beneath her. The song continued, in-between heavy panting breaths. He could see that she was rubbing herself. She was getting off. He was drawn to her.

         As he approached the bed, another woman appeared to his right. He looked at her. Carrie? No, it wasn't her. The eyes were not Carrie's eyes, but her face was nearly identical. Her mouth opened and she joined the singing of the song. Steve stood frozen, his mind torn between the two sirens he could not resist; and the desperate internal need to RUN.

         His mind reaches out desperately for a piece of familiar reality and finds a memory to cling to.

***

         Night. Autumn. Rosewood Park. Steve is walking home from the bookstore after work. He's taking a short cut through the park, which really isn't shorter, but be doesn't care because it's a lovely night and he wants to enjoy it. As he passes the swings in the playground, he hears humming. He can't help but go toward it. She's beautiful; the young woman, humming as she swings herself back and forth. He goes to her, and after that moment, never spends another day apart from her.

         This is where Steve meets Carrie. Where Steve hears the siren song for the first time. This will be the last song Steve ever hears.

***

         “You always were such an independent child,” the man was leading her up the stairs talking in a sweet tone as he went. Up ahead of them, she could hear the singing and insane laughter of women and the anguished screams of a man—She recognized the screams as Steve's—and she wanted to run away, run for help, run until daylight, but her body held fast and kept walking. The man continued talking.

         “I had told you so many times not to go out in the day, but no, you refused to listen to your father, like a good little siren. You snuck out to play in the light, you wandered too close to the road, and they found you. Those awful people took you away. Mistook you for one of them. Raised you as their own. We called for you. We sent the creatures of the night to find you and bring you back home. But, you didn't understand our lullaby anymore, although you still sang it, and the creatures frightened you. You had forgotten us. They made you forget. Made you think that your past memories were only childhood nightmares. But finally we found a way to get you home.”

         They reached the top; he pushed the door open, and then pushed her inside. “Now go say hello to your sisters, they're waiting for you.” He snarled. She stumbled and fell to her knees at the foot of the bed. The two women were kneeling side by side on top of it, their heads down. Carrie could see in the flickering of the light that their nightgowns were bloody. They raised and turned toward her in unison. Blood and gore dripped from fanged snouts and she could recognize herself in them despite their transformation. Steve's ruined body lay between them. A river of red flowed down the plastic sheets and pooled on the floor where Carrie knelt.

         The man who had called himself her father cackled devilishly behind her. She turned and saw the beast from the forest. His fur covered snout spread in a hideous grin, saliva dripped from razor teeth.

         Carrie began sobbing into her hands, which were now covered in Steve's blood and bits of flesh. The blood mingled with her tears creating a red saline slush that coated her face. The salty smell filled her senses. It was the smell of the ocean. It was the smell of ghost ships, sea monsters, and watery graves.

         Carrie licked her hands and smiled.

         It was the smell of home.