Nothing Ever Happens

That yawning maw of shattered teeth still haunted Steph’s nightmares.

A picture of those final moments of life marked by sheer terror – the face of a man who knew he was about to die.

A month on, and the dreams kept up, driving her from the meager depths of sleep snagged since her boss – and friend – Sheriff Pinewood’s mutilated corpse turned up in the woods bordering this sad excuse for a town.

The morning Steph awoke drenched in sweat from yet another nightmare, she relished both the cool summer breeze flowing through her open window and the promise of a new sheriff arriving today.

At least having another person around beat jumping at every little creak of her wooden desk and rustling of the trees outside the station window.

******

“Sheriff Parks?” Steph walked toward the newcomer at the station entrance, hand raised.

The woman before her accepted the handshake with a firm grasp, angular features softening in a subtle smile. “Call me Kim. Deputy Barnes?”

Steph nodded, as they stepped into the station office. “Steph. Glad to have another person around here. It’s been quiet.”

Steph took a seat, as Kim peered out the window at the clear view of the tree line. “That sounds awful what happened to Sheriff Pinewood. Do they have any idea yet what could have happened?”

“The bite marks on his body were textbook for an animal attack,” Steph said, booting up the office computer Pinewood had sworn must have been going on two decades. “But the other injuries looked like blunt trauma.”

When the phone rang, both women started. Steph answered.

Local delinquent Joey bringing his uncle’s drugs to school yet again.

******

Steph wasted no time hauling the kid into a cell this time. He wouldn’t get off easy again.

“I didn’t do nothin’!” Joey said, as the bars slid shut.

“Shut it, Joey,” Steph snapped. “You’ve been dealing that garbage at school long enough.”

“You ain’t got proof!” Joey shouted, gripping the bars. “Last time you pulled this, they found it was just Tylenol. We can’t afford nothin’ more.”

Steph turned without another word. She had given it all up for this town, just as her dad had given it all up for her.

And she wouldn’t stop until the scum of the lot got what was coming to them.

No sooner had Steph left the station, that Sheriff Parks appeared in the driveway.

“Deputy…” she started, “Steph. I found someone in the woods. I think she might know something about Sheriff Pinewood’s death.”

Steph frowned. “In the woods?”

Parks nodded. “I couldn’t get her to come with me. She looked scared out of her mind…almost feral. She snapped at me, then ran back into the woods.”

Steph thought for a moment, chirping cicadas the only sound to split the afternoon silence. She might need to lock up extra tight from now on.

Parks shook her head. “Sorry, I guess I’ve been on edge since…well, I lost my daughter not too long ago. Drive-by shooting.”

“I’m sorry,” Steph inclined her head.

“It was my own fault,” said the sheriff. “I wouldn’t give her space, and she wanted more time with my ex. So she ran off.”

“Glad to be out of the city, I’ll bet,” Steph said, hoping her sincerity came across.

“Anyway,” Parks continued, heading into the station, “got your text about that Joey kid. I’ll run his plates. If he’s still bullying his classmates, we have to go harder on him.”

Steph had to raise her brows at the sheriff’s swagger – an urban elite, if she ever saw one.

******

Stepping inside her front door, Steph sighed at the silhouette of her dad sitting at the kitchen table, outlined against the setting sun.

“Right where I left you…” she muttered, “let’s get you up—”

She froze at the sight of a light-yellow liquid trickling down her father’s leg, pooling on the floor beneath his wheelchair.

Still, those dark eyes stared straight ahead at nothing.

******

“Didn’t sleep well?” Parks asked, as Steph poured herself a cup of coffee.

“It’s my dad…” Steph began before choosing her words carefully to avoid rambling on. “He’s not doing too well. Advanced Alzheimer’s.”

Parks nodded. “I understand. My dad…well, I barely remember him, but I know he was fond of hunting. I always wanted to go out more with him before he left…”

Now, it was the sheriff’s turn to trail off.

“Any sign of that wild girl?” Steph prompted.

“Saw her on the walk home last night,” said Kim, brewing her own cup. “She was doing her best to hide behind some shrubs, but… I got her to talk this time.”

Steph quirked a brow at the sheriff’s wording.

The ghost of a smile flitted across Parks’ lips. “Clearly, I didn’t take her in, Deputy. Just asked her if she lives out there, had any family nearby, all that. Joey’s plates came back, turned up a Cliff Sage. Looks like he’s been suspected of heading up a meth lab out in the woods for a while now.”

Steph’s blood ran cold. Cliff Sage – one of several suspected dealers Pinewood had been scoping out.

All at once, she set her jaw in indignation that a woman from the city had connected the dots so fast in Steph’s neck of the woods.

“First thing tomorrow,” Steph said, turning to leave, “we take the truck out and search for your girl.”

“Sounds good,” said Parks. “By the way, seems the kid’s powder was just Tylenol again. I’ll let him out.”

Steph just continued on her way, fuming. Her mother gone years ago, her father a shell…this town gone to shit. And now, a wonder boss.

******

The lanky man stooped in the dirt outside the entrance to a dilapidated barn, hand over his mouth. When she and Parks approached, Steph could’ve sworn she heard a muffled scream.

“What’s going on here?” Steph asked, stepping forward before Parks had the chance.

The man - Cliff, as the plates had indicated – turned to face them, eyes red-rimmed.

“My boy’s dead,” he said in more of a croak than the attempted sneer. “Can’t you popos leave a man in peace—”

“Joey?” Parks spoke up. “That’s not possible, we talked to him not 24 hours—”

“Shut it!” Cliff bellowed, and Steph had to purse her lips to keep from flinching. “For all I know, you had somethin’ to do with it. Wanted us lowlifes outta of here?”

“Animal predation or suspected foul play?” Parks asked.

Cliff quirked a brow. “Predation?”

“Attack,” Steph said.

“Now, don’t you go schoolin’ me, little miss—"

Before Steph could move a muscle, Parks stepped up into Cliff’s personal space.

“You really want to test us? If your boy passed away, show us the body, and we’ll take it from there.”

A tense silence stretched thick enough to slice with a pocketknife.

Cliff smiled, chapped, scabbed lips stretched thin. “Look at them pearly whites. You can tell a lot about someone by the state of their teeth. Talkin’ down to us. Your old pal Pinewood was the same way.”

Steph’s hackles rose. “Was he gettin’ too close to something, Cliff?”

“I haven’t admitted to nothin’,” Cliff said, grey eyes flitting to hers.

Spurred on by her rising frustration and nerves, Steph took off toward the barn behind Cliff.

By the time Cliff turned to stop her and Parks grabbed his elbow, Steph had forced open the old wooden doors—

A metallic stench assaulted her nostrils – grim, yet not unexpected.

Withdrawing the small flashlight on her keychain, she swept the light around the shadowed space, from haystacks to loft, and…a ladder, surrounded by drying blood.

She stepped nearer, the smell growing stronger – a pair of sneakers, jeans, a plaid shirt, and…a face.

What was left of it, anyway. The lower half with skin blanched and moist, even in the dim lighting. Jaw twisted at the wrong angle.

“Head bashed in with a ladder,” Steph called, swallowing a cough at the odor. “No sign of animal predation that I can see.”

“Joey never goes up the ladder,” said Cliff. “He was tryin’ to get away from something—”

As Steph pulled out her cell phone to dial the coroner, she overheard Parks murmur to Cliff.

“We’ll be in touch with any updates on how he died,” the sheriff said.

At this point, Steph had to wonder if these meth heads might be crazy enough to start turning on each other. They hadn’t seen it happen yet within families, but who knew anymore.

These two, though – word was that Cliff and his nephew had been two peas in a pod.

No clear motive. Still, she had no sympathy for folks who turned to dealing, no matter the hardship.

“While we’re here,” Parks continued, “you two weren’t keeping a woman here, by any chance?”

“What’re you gettin’ at now?” Cliff said, and Steph had to admit he sounded sincere.

The deputy didn’t catch Parks’ reply, as the coroner picked up.

******

Steph packed up her things as soon as Joey’s body had been hauled off for examination. The daylight had long since waned by the time forensics showed up to take in the ladder, and the fatigue wore heavy.

Bidding a quick goodbye to Parks, she stepped outside the station’s rear door for a rare quiet moment to just… shut her eyes and appreciate the gentle breeze on her face, the setting sun through the tree leaves.

Anything that didn’t involve her withering father or a mangled corpse—

Steph’s eyes snapped open at the crunch of a twig just beyond the nearby tree line. Squinting to make out anything in the darkness gathering between the branches, she stopped short at a sound.

A coo of sorts. Shrill, yet soft. Almost like an owl.

All at once, determination drowned apprehension. Steph refused to keep being scared – of leaving this town, of abandoning her dad, of being shown up by a city sheriff.

If there really was a wild woman living in these woods, Steph had to get on top of this. She had not spent her life protecting this place to have the wool pulled over her eyes.

More of her dad staring at the wall.

Steph almost thanked the sheriff for her unexpected after-hours call. Anything to avoid the dreariness of home.

“Meet me at the station,” came Parks’ calm tone. “I’ve got something you’ll want to see.”

Stepping into the back office, Steph took a seat across from Parks who placed her cell phone on the desk between them.

“I couldn’t get her to come out from behind the tree,” Parks said, “but I got more than usual.”

The sheriff pressed the play button.

Steph stared at the shaky footage of a tree trunk, taking in the recorded voices.

Parks’ first. Do you know anything about people getting hurt in the woods?

A pause, as Steph’s eyes flitted up to meet Parks’ whose gaze remained on the phone.

Then, came another voice. Woods. Home.

Accented. No… more childlike.

Do you live out here?Parks again. Do you… do you have family?

Another pause, a shake of the phone camera. Momma… momma fire brutha.

Your momma and brother died in a fire?Parks replied, swifter this time.

…Momma. C-cook brutha.

Steph’s gut dropped, and Parks paused the recording.

“That’s all I got,” said the sheriff. “She ran off again after that.”

Steph sat back, averting her eyes. “The mother… must’ve been so hopped up on who knows what to have actually…”

“She said a little more,” Parks said. “That she had a songshe used with her brother so the mother wouldn’t find them. Or at least that’s what I took from it.”

Somehow surviving out there alone for all these years without human contact for who knew how long.

Even if she couldn’t help her dad – she hadto help this woman.

“You seem to have a way with her,” Steph changed the subject, standing from the desk as the day drew to a close.

Parks’ full lips tilted with the hint of a smile. “We all need help sometimes. Someone just has to want to.”

“My dad…” Steph blurted before pausing to choose her next words, “he’s not well. He barely talks these days. But he always did know when someone needed help, and… I guess it sort of stuck.”

Parks regarded her then with a long glance as if considering, before giving a subtle smile and heading out.

Taking another moment to compose herself, Steph scolded herself for oversharing, a trait her dad warned could lead to trouble.

Never make too much out of a small thing.

The coroner got back to them quick, before end of day – no DNA to report besides Joey’s.

******

The humid air fanned Steph’s face on leaving the station, this time through the front door…only for those woods to once again draw her attention, and—

A soft coo sounded across the small field stretching from station to tree line.

Hand dropping instinctively to the pistol at its holster, Steph knew it was now or never. She would either prove Cliff was brewing drugs or get the wild woman to the station for help, or…

Well, she didn’t very well know what to do with someone like that off the top of her head. Best start with Cliff whose cabin seemed far enough from that barn of his.

Ignoring the small voice insisting she was just finding any possible excuse to avoid her dad, Steph climbed into the truck and headed along the winding dirt road into the woods.

The moment the shadow of the canopy blocked out the moonlight streaming through the windshield, Steph couldn’t ignore the sweat that broke out on her nape.

The dark, a wild girl, a crazed drug dealer, her dad’s dead eyes… horrible teeth, a shattered jaw—

When the navigator dinged arrival to that barn, Steph eased on the brakes as gentle as possible.

The windshield gave a head-on view of the barn’s interior, doors still swung open from when the coroner had arrived to collect Joey’s body.

Black as pitch.

Steph pursed her lips – she had to at least try.

Feet hitting the dirt, she coaxed the door shut in the quiet and withdrew her flashlight with one hand, fingers curling around her pistol with the other.

Just get inside, dig around for any trace of white or crystal and get gone .

One foot over the barn door’s threshold, and Steph dropped to her knees already rummaging around in the straw—

A squeak, followed by a crunch of leaves.

Steph twisted to hide her whole body in the shadows and watch what came out of the trees.

A squeak – the swing of a lantern. A checkered bandana lit by the orange flame.

Cliff.

Scooting further into the inky depths of the barn, she held her breath at the musty scent of old dirt that just barely overwhelmed a sweeter odor – perhaps rot.

Those sharp grey eyes fixed on the shadows beyond the barn doors, almost yet not quite straight into Steph’s face.

The silence loomed, darkness pressing in on Steph like a suffocating cloak, an unadulterated chill trickling down her spine that while she could see the danger in front on her, what the surrounding darkness might be hiding… what could be behind her…

Damn it, why wouldn’t he stop staring?

That coo sounded, and Cliff startled, eyes finally tearing away from the barn.

Turning back the way he’d come, Cliff vanished into the trees, leaving Steph in darkness once more before fumbling to switch her flashlight back on.

Yet more quiet, as Steph yet again held her breath as if to somehow suppress any rustling of the straw around her—

A plop sounded, as her knee hit something. A swivel of the flashlight – a bag, brimming with white powder.

No way Tylenol would be in a bag like that. Murderer or not, Cliff was going away.

By the time Steph registered another presence at the barn door, the lantern had already struck her upside the head.

Somehow managing not to drop her flashlight, Steph pulled out her gun, only for Cliff to knock the weapon from her hand with his boot.

Clambering backward on all fours, Steph forced her breathing to calm… to give into the survival instinct, however feral necessary to put off even a deranged druggie.

Giving herself no time for doubt, she used her free hand to grasp a fistful of straw, shoving as much of the stuff as she could into her mouth.

Even as the jagged, coarse grass sliced into her tongue, she channeled the pain into a guttural growl, refusing to break eye contact with the man before her.

Relief flooded her, when surprise sparked in those eyes, followed by disgust.

Iron and salt streamed over her tongue, down her throat.

“You monsters killed my boy.”

Without another word, he turned and sprinted off into the dark.

Hacking out the straw and gripping her pistol hard enough for her fingers to go numb, she grabbed the bag of white and booked it to the truck.

******

After texting Parks about the bag, Steph stumbled into the station, weighed down by both exhaustion and lingering unease about what had come over her the night before.

“Steph,” Parks stood over the desk where the deputy had collapsed into the chair. “What do you think you’re doing going off on treasure hunts by yourself?”

Steph responded by setting the bag of powder on the table.

“Nothing to say for yourself?” Parks pressed.

Annoyance broke through Steph’s fatigue. “I know this town like my own right foot, Sheriff. And I got what we needed.”

“Yeah,” said Parks, dropping a wallet beside the bag of drugs, “well, maybe, going out alone like that is what’s getting people killed.”

Steph glanced at the wallet – the leather drenched in crusted blood.

“Someone else our druggie friends could’ve nabbed?” Steph said, intending every bit of sarcasm. “Or maybe your wild girl took him out?”

Parks’ eyes darkened. “A hunter, found by some hikers this morning. Butchered by what looked like a human and then left to be gnawed at by animals.”

Steph pursed her lips, willing away the brain fog… and didn’t miss what must have been the third empty whisky bottle she’d seen stowed in the corner this week.

“You said we should believe people when they need help,” said Steph, eyes returning to the sheriff’s face. “I know this town needs help, and… that it might be beyond it. But I believe you need help, too. Same as anyone.”

“This is serious, Deputy,” said Parks, a flash of hesitation vanishing from her eyes with one blink.

That did it.

Steph stood up to look the sheriff straight on. “You listen here, Kim. I gave up a full scholarship to study criminal justice in New York, because I learned how to protect people on the job.”

Parks held her gaze like steel.

“I might not have a fancy degree,” Steph said, “but don’t you go tellin’ me how to keep this place safe.”

That stare didn’t relent until the sheriff left the room – and Steph knew that girl and Cliff just had to be connected somehow.

It was all going according to plan – until Steph got home to find her dad’s face smashed into the wall hard enough to dent the plaster.

Yet more broken teeth in a puddle of barely dried blood.

Falling to her knees, Steph choked on the retch clawing up her throat. The sight of a shred of checkered cloth drove a scream from her so shrill it could have echoed.

A coo sounded from the cooling evening outside the open window.

She fled the house for the station… where Parks just held her. Maybe hours, maybe minutes. It hardly mattered.

By the time the sunlight faded from the window, Steph had ripped into plastic with bare hands, powder littering the office floor.

Cliff was nowhere to be found.

******

The dawn air showed the first signs of fall, Steph’s breath curling before her like a strange apparition.

Beside her, Parks headed for the truck, both set on the mission at hand – take in Cliff to bring order to the chaos the only way possible at this point—

The sheriff halted, Steph bumping into her back.

The station lights shone off Parks’ silhouette, as Steph’s eyes followed the other woman’s tense shoulders, poised in an almost eerie stillness.

“Sheriff, what—”

Steph barely registered the footfalls on the gravel behind her, before her back hit the ground.

“Bastards comin’ to finish the job?”

Cliff.

Swiveling around, she crawled away from the madman, forcing herself into a standing position despite the ache shooting down her spine. Hand to holster, and—he was striding toward her, too fast. She saw red, and when that gunshot rang out, several moments passed before she took notice of the pistol smoking in her hand.

Cliff grabbed his shoulder with a curse. Nicked him, no way deep enough to stop him.

Sure enough, the station lights fell blackened by a shadow, followed by a blood-curdling scream that ended in a gargle.

Steph froze, her eyes meeting Kim’s, as the body hit the ground between them.

Steph’s gaze trailed over the red rivulets coating the sheriff’s lips and chin. Those dark eyes bore into hers, until… a smile smeared blood across white teeth.

“Bad man… dead,” came that voice, higher pitched, softer.

Steph’s gut churned, not daring to move a muscle aside from the hand sliding down to rest over the weapon at her belt.

That bastard had murdered her father and Pinewood, but her sheriff… the woman in the woods….

“It’s all right now,” Steph began, raising her other hand in a placating gesture, “he’s gone. We’re safe. Thank you.”

Sparing another glance down at the corpse, Kim walked toward Steph too fast for the deputy to back away.

The sheriff stepped behind her, and Steph screwed her eyes shut, gritting her teeth at the sensation of a tongue running along her neck.

“Didn’t…” the gentle tone spoke again, “didn’t like when Momma did that.”

Steph blinked away tears, thinking of Cliff’s nephew and the hunter. “Joey… and the hunter—”

Hot breath across her earlobe. “Bad medicine hurts… Papa left us… with Momma… for hunting. No one believed… said nothing ever happens and Momma is good. Had to run away.”

Get out. Get away, a voice screamed in Steph’s head.

“I believe you,” Steph began, voice wavering with unshed tears. “What would make youhappy?”

A stretch of silence. The fear coursing through Steph hardened into… nothing.

“Home. Safe.”

The woods. The only good thing left about this forsaken town. She was done wasting away her life here for people who didn’t want to be saved.

Let the things they called wild eat them alive.

“I’ll walk you to the tree line,” Steph murmured.

Another smile, as Kim reached up to her mouth to wrench off… those white pearls, revealing blackened broken stumps.

The clean teeth fell to the leaves with barely a rustle.

The deputy didn’t risk drawing another breath until the figure before her crossed into the trees – where she dropped to all fours.

A soft coo sounded in the arriving daybreak.

THE END

Bio: Sarah Katz is an author, cybersecurity technical writer, and speculative filmmaker. She has the speculative short stories "Grid" and "To Break a Diamond" published with Aphelion Webzine. Her most recent stories published in other venues are "Savanna Storm" (slipstream) in Scarlet Leaf Review, "Death of a Star" (science fiction) in 365 Tomorrows, and "View from the Tower" (historical drama) in The Globe Review.

E-mail: Author's Website

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