What was that?

Things quieted down at that point. There was discussion about having a search for the bear or for evidence of a bear but it was dismissed as it was getting dark and we didn't know what we'd do if we found a bear. We tried to call the police to report what happened but the cabin phone didn't work and we couldn't get a signal on our mobile devices. We decided to run into town in the morning and report in person. It would keep until then.

Have you ever been without your communication technology recently? For that matter, have you been deprived of any technology recently? Its one thing to have to avoid meddling with your mobcomm for an hour during a meeting, its another thing entirely to have your computer break and be without it for a day or two. Or have your television break? You feel lost. Confused. It totally disrupts your schedule. You never realize how accustomed you become to certain things until they're gone. Suddenly, you can't double check any information because you can't get to the interwebs. If you're playing a game and lose your connection to it, the withdrawal can quickly become very painful.

This was the position we were in. Being unable to communicate our need for assistance was quite irritating, frustrating even. Logically, there was nothing else we could do but that didn't stop us from feeling the need to do something about it. At least the satellite television was functioning properly. That helped take my mind off of what had happened.

I don't mean to sound insensitive but I didn't really know the fella. Prior to today, I may have met him once or twice in passing. Now that he'd passed, my opinion of him didn't really change because I didn't really know him. Unfortunately I'd been in the presence of violent death before. While I felt bad about the situation, I was able to move on rather quickly. As the 'kids' both knew him well and were not so used to this sort of thing happening, they were more shook up. While they sat in the big room discussing this occurrence and the life lost, I stayed out of their way by watching television.

I'm not sure if it was the best idea under the circumstances. My belief that staying out of other people's way is helpful is sometimes interpreted as not wanting to help. It's not a lack of interest, just ability. I saw no good way to actively make things better so I got out of the way. Am I protesting too much? Probably. I sat there watching some sitcom that was so predictable it was irritating and tried to not think about the way Tim's face had been shredded.

There was a knock on the door.

It was a faint, soft sound that made me turn but was clearly my imagination. I returned my attention to commercials for products I neither needed nor wanted.

There was a knock on the door.

This time it was louder, more distinct, less of a knocking and more of a pounding. That didn't bode well. I spun in the chair and worked to peek out the window in order to see who might be at the door. I had a bad angle on the situation and couldn't see.

There was a pounding on the door.

I bounded from the chair, filled with the electric feeling that I was about to do something incredibly stupid. Even with this awareness, I still approached the door, I just did so with some caution. Carefully I moved the curtain covering the window in the door as little as possible but as much as I needed in order to see out. There stood Tim, well, slouched Tim, strips of meat dangling from his damaged face. He did not look well.

I backed away from the door and found that the pounding had attracted the attention of others as I bumped into Dave. After a quick apology, Dave asked what was going on.

“I think we have a zombie on our hands,” I explained.

Discussing ... uh, Plants

We were still pondering this as we returned to the cabin. “No tracks either,” Jeff muttered aloud.

“The ground is pretty dry,” I observed. “Not great for capturing prints.”

“You'd still think there'd be something left behind,” insisted Jeff. “A track, some hair, something.”

“Like a big steaming pile of bear business,” Dave offered.

“Yes, like that.”

“Yet, we have none of that,” I observed. “Just a damaged face and a weird smell.”

“You noticed that as well?” Jeff checked. “ I thought I was imagining it. Or that it was some of the nearby weeds.”

Dave coughed loudly. “It probably was weed,” he muttered. “Tim was a bit of a pothead. I'm pretty sure that's why they were outside; so he could smoke up.”

I shook my head. “That wasn't it.”

“I know he was a pothead,” Dave insisted. “I wasn't happy about it but that's not why we were friends or anything.”

I worked to dismiss his concerns. “No worries, didn't mean to imply that if I did. I'm just trying to say that smell wasn't weed.” Dave gave me a curious look so I added “I've been to concerts before Dave; I am familiar with that smell. And like you had the first pothead friend.” After a moment's consideration, I continued again. “Mike was a friend of a friend but I think that still counts.”

“American potheads are so sad,” Jeff declared. “I tried marijuana last year when I was in Amsterdam. Didn't care for it. Too much spit.”

I wasn't quite sure how to respond to that. I considered this for a moment before responding. “So you'd know what it smells like then.”

“I know what good marijuana smells like,” Jeff stated. “That didn't smell like good marijuana. Bad marijuana maybe, mixed with something.”

“Yes. Quite.”

Figuring Things Out (Not)

Thankfully there was a sizable garage to go along with the 'cabin'. While I'm not extremely squeamish, I hadn't wanted the body inside the house with us. I've seen too many weird things in the past to want a corpse that nearby. I've seen the dead walk before. There, I said it. No one ever believes me and it was the strangest of strange occurrences but it happened and I was there. If this fella got up and started wandering, we might have a chance of noticing before he was upon us.

Jeff had accompanied us in an effort to gather information regarding the situation. “Okay, see this makes no sense for a start. See these claw marks?” I wish I could say I didn't but that wasn't the case. “The pattern is all wrong. It looks like the bear was over him, taller than him, but the claws are too close together. The bear's paw should be much larger, two or three times larger than the human hand. This looks like it could have been my hand.” He spread his hand out to demonstrate his point.

“Ah ha!” I declared. “So you did it. Where's your bear costume?”

Jeff gave him a Hard Stare. “I didn't do this; don't be stupid.”

“Clearly I was not being serious,” I noted. “Just a little joke.”

“Very little,” Jeff responded. “Not funny.”

“Pity, we could use a laugh right now. Keep us from crying. Still,” I continued, “your's is a good point. We have an eyewitness, who's evidence might be considered suspect considering her current condition, pointing to a bear. We have the evidence of the damage before us that points to an inhuman attack and yet it doesn't quite match up with the concept of the bear attack. Where does that leave us?”

“Confused,” Dave answered.

“Yes, I'd agree with that,” I responded.

Bear Talk

Janet was in the kitchen, sitting before the table, a blanket wrapped around her. Her expression was blank, directed at the glass of water between her hands without seeming to see it. We needed information from her, but she wasn't in much of a position to provide it. Tina and Karen, Chris's girlfriend, both gently sought to get her to open up but she remained silent, staring through the water.

While we waited, we had nothing else to do but speculate. “Oh it couldn't have been a bear,” insisted Jeff.

“Why not?” Dave questioned. “It looked like he took a claw to the face.”

Jeff was very insistent on this matter. “Because there are literally no bears for miles. Bears don't spend time in this part of the state.”

“There was that bear that they had to tranquilize out of a tree in Milwaukee a couple years ago,” I noted. “From that I'd think bears might come this way sometimes.”

My point excited Jeff. “One time. One time in decades we get a bear in the city, one time gets lost and that's all it takes?”

I shrugged my shoulders. “I'm just saying it happened once. I'm not saying we're on the bear highway to Milwaukee or anything.”

“It happened once,” Dave reasoned, “it could happen again.”

Jeff gave him a 'you're an idiot look'. “Do you know what the odds are of that happening here?”

“Probably a billion to one. Or more!” Dave had gotten a bit wide-eyed and excited. I'd not really seen him get like this before. I found it interesting. “I'm sure you'll know whatever big number it is.”

“I do,” Jeff reassured. “And it is a big number. “

“You know, that's good, that's an excellent piece of information to have,” Dave noted. “None of it helps Tim. Does it matter if it's 'impossible' for it to be a bear or not? I'm not saying its probably that it was a bear, but it's not impossible.”

“It's improbable,” Jeff stated. “Highly unlikely.”

“But not impossible,” Dave pushed.

“I never said it was impossible,” Jeff clarified. “Just improbable enough to be impossible. It just can't have been a bear.”

“It was a bear.” Janet's voice wavered and shook. She was barely audible compared to the raised voices we'd just heard. As quiet as she was, her words cut through the room. “I saw it; it was a bear. A bear that killed Tim.” She repeated this once or twice more before busting into tears. Already at her side, Tina and Karen swarmed to comfort her.

Dave found a way to look concerned and smug at the same time. “There. Eyewitness says bear.” Jeff again protested the unlikelihood of this occurrence but that did nothing to change the evidence we currently had before us.

With that settled, Dave turned to me. I'd said I'd help move the corpse if it wasn't a crime scene and it looked like random misadventure. Bother. I had sort of hoped I wouldn't have to pay off on that. Still, a promise was a promise.

Not Good

While I may be good at telling a real scream from a pretend scream, I'm not good at identifying the source of the scream. The woods out the back of the cabin were thick were trees and shrubbery. It was possible to see through them to some degree so I wasn't losing track of my fellow searchers but there were too many hiding spots. With the screaming now ceased, I had no good way to tell where I should be headed. I was trying to hurry but I didn't know to where I was hurrying.

Suddenly I heard Dave loudly call upon a deity. I located him, saw the look of shock and surprise on his face, and rapidly headed in his directions. I was the first to join him. I immediately regretted it.

Tim lay limply against a tree, the side of his face caved in and slashed. He looked very dead. Blood dripped, bone and gristle exposed to the air. It was a gruesome sight. In an unexpected manner, I had failed as chaperone.

His lady friend, Janet the cute girl that had apologized to me for him, was backed up against another tree facing him, wide eyed and trembling, clearly in shock. When Tina arrived on the scene, I did my best to steer her away from the body and towards the young lady, directly that she be taken inside. Tina's curiosity was strong enough that she fought for a glimpse of the body. The verbiage that spilled from her mouth wasn't pretty but neither was the sight before her.

Dave's shock had faded. Carefully, sadly, he checked for a pulse. The young man looked very dead to me but Dave knew him. Perhaps he felt that this could be a trick or maybe just needed to convince himself of the reality of the situation. Once Dave stepped away from him, I touched him lightly on the shoulder. “Is there a tarp or blanket we could use to cover him up?”

Dave nodded slowly. “We should take him inside. I don't want to let the critters get to him.”

I hesitated. “We shouldn't disturb him yet. This might be a crime scene. Let's get some more information before we do that.”

“Crime scene?” Dave echoed. “That's the work of an animal.”

“It might just look like an animal,” I informed. “We have someone who likely saw it happen. If she says it was an animal, I'll help you move him. Okay?” Dave thought about it but eventually nodded. I steered him away from the sight, moving him back towards the cabin.

Relationships is a Funny Word

“Sounds like a real winner,” Tina declared.

“He wasn't always like that,” I defended. “Most of the time he was a lot of fun. Very clever.”

“How bad was he when he was bad?” she questioned.

I looked at her blankly. “I just told you what he did to my car. That wasn't enough?”

She gave me a frustrated look. “Right but was he always like that when he was bad or was that something special?”

I hummed and hawwed a bit. “He would do some weird things but, at the same time, this was special.”

“Okay.” She relaxed a bit. “Cause it was starting to sound abusive. If he'd been your girlfriend, I'd say you should dump her.”

“Have you ever had a boyfriend like that?” I asked.

Tina shook her head no. “I've had... friends that had bad relationships and its hard, hard to see them when they're in them and hard to get them to end them.”

“Because you're not in the relationship you don't understand,” I added.

“Yes! Exactly!” she agreed. “And they are exactly right, we don't know the situation. Like your story, your mom giving you the advice but she didn't understand right? That one moment wasn't going to break up your friendship. It could have, maybe it should have, but it didn't.”

“You still see him?” Dave asked. I nodded. “Good times? Just sitting around reminiscing about old times, huh?”

I thought back on my last conversation with Eric and the circumstances surrounding it. “Talk about old times, yes. Fondly? No, not really. He's... insane.”

“So you're not friends anymore?” Tina checked. I confirmed this was the case. “Good! At least he's not dragging you down.”

“He tries, he just doesn't succeed.”

Our conversation stopped suddenly with the sound of a scream. I've been around trouble enough to recognize a serious scream when I hear it. For that first moment we froze, as if we were trying to believe what we were hearing. When we saw the look on each other's faces, we knew we weren't imagining it.

I was the first one out the door.

Tarred and Feathered

Humor is a difficult thing to explain. What makes me roll on the floor overwhelmed with laughter may do nothing for the next person. They may understand the joke, they may even grasp why the joke should be funny, but it may not amuse them. Some jokes are subtle. Some jokes are so old that they may cause us to groan due to familiarity. Some jokes try to be funny but may only amuse the teller.

This story is about one of those jokes, funny only to the teller.

I don't gamble, not seriously anyway. If we like rival sports teams that are playing each other and we put paying for pizza on the line based on the outcome of the game, that's a friendly sort of thing rather than gambling. A dollar or two on a raffle for charity isn't gambling, not to me anyway. It can be a thin line between a gentlemanly wager and betting so if you disagree with my definition and consider this gambling as well, I can understand.

Eric, my friend at the time, was caught by the poker trend. The math that was involved captured the imagination of his intellect and he soon began organizing games. I went to a couple, found that Eric was taking it Very Seriously, and wanted to play for ever increasing stakes. I soon bowed out of playing. It wasn't fun for me. After I showed up to one such party stating my disinterest in playing, just wanting to hang out with the guys. I was dismissed. Taking the hint, I stopped showing up.

Rather than accept this, Eric became irritated at my lack of desire to join with them. He was of the opinion that my disinterest in playing was due to my lack of skill. I had lost money during the games I'd played in and, in his mind, I was too chicken to try to win it back. He believed my lack of enjoyment had come from losing, not from the Very Serious Way that they'd played. There may have been some truth in his opinion but it wasn't my primary motivation in stepping aside.

Had this remained a polite disagreement it would have been no big deal. Eric would not let it go. He continued to verbally harass me about my not playing, both in private and in public. Every time I saw him there would be a moment of abuse that he would attempt to play off as being humorous.

I began avoiding him. It was just easier. I'd seen his obsessions burn brightly before they burned out in the past so it was safe to believe that in a week or two he'd become bored with the whole thing and return to 'normal'. It was just a matter of waiting this out. When he no longer saw me, he'd send message through mutual friends.

Rather quickly, that was no longer enough. While I could avoid Eric with some ease, my car was left in public for long periods of time. I left work one evening to find my car coated with molasses and feathers. Did I mention that my car had been while before this? It had been.

I had no choice but to quickly drive it home, they had been 'kind' enough to not cover the windows, and began the process of cleaning the goo off. My Dad lent me a hand and we took care of the bulk of it. The car was then oddly stained, giving it a vaguely cow-like pattern. While we cleaned, my Mom gave me a speech about what friends do and do not do.

She wasn't telling me anything I wasn't already thinking. I didn't 'break up' with him then. His poke obsession faded, as I expected, and I tried to let it go but soon came the Heather freak-out and he became my enemy. His words.

Strange man.