Long in the Tooth
A short story about getting lost in the woods and the monsters you find there.
He parked on the side of Cedar Glen Road and walked back to the clearing. Throwing his pack over one shoulder, he trudged through the long grass to the tree line and then downhill through the slender trunks he found there. The creek was not far ahead and some echo of a trail was sure to remain.
The area felt familiar but he knew that he didn’t actually remember it specifically. In recent years, his memories had so faded that he often struggled to remember the names of people who played a significant role in his life as a kid. Sometimes he felt so disconnected from the past that he thought his memories weren’t even real.
When he reached the creek he saw that the water level was low enough that he could walk along the edge of the creek bed and avoid the brush on either side. As he progressed upstream the banks rose gradually, eventually giving way to a canyon with steep, rocky walls.
When the hiker was a teenager, he would stomp over large, uneven rocks along the edge of the creek, splashing through puddles as required. He once planned to hike the ten-mile trail to Devil’s Woodshed, an all-day adventure that didn’t shake his confidence.
But now, as an older man, he found himself moving along the path with uncertainty. He felt tinges of pain whenever he turned an ankle and the annoyance of heavy breathing whenever he climbed an elevation. The gap between how he felt as a teenager and the life he now led as a sedentary, middle-aged suburbanite was so enormous it felt contrived.
Pausing to tighten the lace on his boot, he noticed a white oblong object along the edge of the water. Picking it up, he could see that it was a small, cylindrical bone, apparently belonging to an long-absent appendage. Nearby he saw two more similar objects, likely from a woodland creature whose remains were scattered by the flow of water. The harsh beauty of nature gave the hiker a brief sense of exhilaration.
Standing up, a breeze chilled the back of his neck. Wonder turned to detachment and the hiker suddenly saw himself as others would probably have seen him. An odd-looking man standing alone in a forest, a brand new daypack on his back. Unaccustomed to his surroundings, deceiving himself into thinking he belonged. He put the bone in his pocket and continued into the canyon.
As he progressed along the creek, the sand underfoot gave way to pebbles, which gave way to small rocks. The hiker climbed over boulders with rough edges and admired the sinewy roots of trees growing from the sides of the canyon. He allowed the natural world to lighten his mood.
Then, from behind, he heard an unfamiliar sound. Rapid beats of slapping water. Looking back he saw nothing, then a blur of brown and white. A deer with small antlers was galloping through the creek in his direction.
The animal raced towards him, coming within ten feet, then angling up the canyon wall. Three quick bounds and it reached the top, dashing through the woods and out of sight. The deer had so quickly appeared and disappeared that the hiker wondered if he even seen it at all.
Standing dumbfounded, he looked back in the direction from which the deer had come. It occurred to him that the animal could be running away from something. He scanned the terrain behind him, and felt his heartbeat quicken. He turned forward and hurried along.
Further into the canyon, he found a sharp turn around a steep precipice, the water running up the edge. The creek was shallow, descending down only a few inches in places, but deep enough that crossing it recklessly would leave him with soaked feet for the rest of the hike. Looking for a path to the other side of the creek, he stepped gingerly on wet rocks that were scattered through the stream.
Travelling from one stone to another, he reached a leg forward, shifted his weight, then regained his balance on the other side. Reach, shift, balance. Reach, shift, balance. He soon found himself perched on a slippery rock in the middle of the creek, without a clear path forward.
Before he could fully size up his predicament, he slipped from the rock and fell into the water.
Landing awkwardly to one side, he jerked himself up and lurched towards the bank. The water at that point reached his mid-thigh but the creek bed was uneven. He was thoroughly drenched by the time he reached dry land.
Frustrated, he flopped onto a bed of smooth rocks, dropping his pack with a sigh. He had packed a dry pair of socks but this situation was far worse than could be fixed. He dragged the bag closer and noticed on the stones was another dull, white bone.
This bone was longer, the end frayed. It was a broken leg bone. He felt a jolt and looked around reflexively, having suddenly lost his bearings.
Clouds flowed overhead, blocking the little sunlight that crept through the canopy. He had no sense of time, no sense that he knew what he was doing.
An old man, sitting on rocks, with no confidence that he could actually improve his situation. It occurred to him for the first time that he could get lost.
The hiker removed his boots and tried to wring out the creek water. When he pulled them back on, the soaked shoelaces slipped through his hands. With every step forward, water seeped through the seams of his shoes.
His only plan had been to go back the way he came. So long as he made it back by sundown, he would be fine. But now he knew that he should’ve planned better. His pack contained only a bottle of water, an energy bar, and the pocket knife his dad gave him last Christmas. And now daylight was slipping away.
But through the uncertainty, he felt a strange sense of clarity. Adolescence had cursed his brain with a storm of conflicting thoughts and ideas, and, as an added insult, a self-awareness that destroyed his confidence. He knew his brain wasn’t working as well as it should. He knew that he was not yet capable of functioning as an adult. But now faced with the possibility that he was in way over his head, he felt the clouds of emotion part. He carried on, forcing himself to focus on the path ahead.
He soon reached a fork in the creek, a small sandy branch veering off in a different direction. He didn’t remember passing that point earlier. He feared that he had accidentally turned himself around. He looked down the path of the creek in each direction. The views were indistinguishable.
And then he heard something.
A distant yelp. An animal in distress.
The woods were darker now. Sounds were clearer. Rustling in the underbrush not too far away.
Another yelp, more plaintive. Closer.
He turned away from the sound and pushed forward. His heart beat faster. He scurried along the edge of the stream, splashing through shallows. Crisp slaps announced his presence. The predator was surely not far behind.
A high squeal cut through the air like sharp teeth. A guttural grumble, then staccato yips. Then nothing.
The hiker tried to run. His ankle turned over a rock. He stumbled but didn’t slow.
The rocky shore narrowed as it ran up to the edge of a steep canyon wall. With no path forward, he plunged into the water, crossing to the other side. Water lapped up past his waist. Cold pierced him to his core.
He scurried out of the water onto a patch of sand and pebbles. He felt his abdomen contract. His clothing clinged to his body, dragging his movement.
His eyes adjusted to the darkness, making out cracks in the canyon walls, gnarled roots reaching out from between rocks. He gazed up the edge of the gorge, where deep blue sky emerged through tree trunks.
He felt as though he had sunken deeper than he had ever been before.
He scanned along the wall of the canyon, desperate to find a way to climb out. Eroded fissures in the wall seemed to offer steps, but crumbled underfoot. He continued along his path, his search growing frantic.
Suddenly, he heard footfalls on pebbles. The sound echoed through the ravine. Something was behind him. He ran.
He ducked around edges, stumbled through gulleys. Tripped hard over a rock, and scraped up his knee. Scurrying to his feet, he saw a jagged incline ahead. No time to spare. He charged up the slope. The surface was uneven, and he immediately crumbled forward. Noise flooded his ears, his hands grabbed at rocks and roots and dirt.
He climbed upon a ledge midway up the wall and found no immediate next step. Turning to search, his weight shifted and his balance was gone. He lost his footing and reached for an exposed root. His body twisted, but his foot remained. He heard a snap and tumbled down the rocky cliff.
He rolled to a stop on a bed of smooth rocks. Straightening himself up, pain immediately coursed through his leg. His body unleashed a cry. His shin was radiating like it was on fire. He tried to stand and immediately fell over. He had never broken a bone before but was certain that this was his first.
Righting himself on the rocks, he realized how heavily he was breathing. He looked back in the direction he came. The predator was certainly nearby. Perhaps only steps away, lingering in the dark.
He looked down at his leg, held apart from his body like a foreign object. He understood that he had no chance to escape on his own. A stillness came over him. There was nowhere to go, nothing to do. He could remain in this canyon forever.
He thought for a moment about his parents and his siblings. The kids at school who he didn’t even like. Would they even notice that he was gone? Would anybody even bother to come looking for him?
Perhaps people would find him and take him home. Or perhaps the predator would reach him first and leave nothing for his rescuers to find. His mind spun through the possibilities.
And then he cried. Deep, unrestrained sobs that he hadn’t experienced in years. He looked up to the sky, widening his eyes to clear away the tears. What happened to the life he was supposed to live?
And then, after the impulse had passed, he felt the weight of uncertainty lifted off of his shoulders. He touched his hands to the cold stones below him, and steadied his breathing.
He closed his eyes and waited to die.