The following is from a journal originally retrieved by Col. Jim Bunker during the investigation regarding the incident in Sable, CO. After contacting its original author and confirming the statute of limitations with the Sable Police Department, these entries are now published in their unabridged format.
January 4 – 9PM
There’s wolves in the woods. Old man Ronny hollered this morning about one of his livestock getting torn to bits by a pack. He wasn’t lying—it hardly looked like a cow anymore when I saw it. He and the missus were so verklempt that they couldn’t even talk straight.
Not like he saw the attack go down. Apparently it happened overnight, and they were fast asleep. I used to live near coyotes in my hometown down in Alabama, and they always make a ton of noise. They made sharp barks, like pups, and a lot of them at that. But I’m not far from Ronny. I hadn’t heard a peep. Neither did any of the other neighbors. Not that we didn’t believe them, but you’d think the sound of howling wolves or even the death-knell of cattle would ring and shake someone up.
Nope. Dead silence.
I helped reassure them that we’ll look out for any of the bastards. Spent a whole day in the woods trying to find where they’d hide. Hard to find anything of substance in a foot of snow and a cold wind so fierce it burns your face. Nothing came up. Didn’t have your usual hidey holes for the likes of wolves and foxes.
We never had any issues with wolves before. Sure, we had a scant few foxes that maybe poached an egg or three, but that was about it. Weather’s too strong for them and they can’t find enough food they need to survive. Feel bad for them myself, but my empathy can only go so far when we need the food ourselves. Looks like this’ll be a rough winter.
January 7 – 10:45PM
Another mauling. A whole henhouse was painted red. Feathers glued to the walls what with how thick the blood was against them. Not a single chicken in sight save for the head of a rooster bitten off.
They got the law out here, but they showed a lot of ‘sympathy’ for us. Officer Fat Lad—can’t remember his name, but the man towered me vertically and horizontally—waddled about town pretending to search for wolves and said, “Yup, can’t find nothing, call us when something happens,” before he up and left. Guess they don’t give two shits unless it’s a murder.
Me and a couple others went out again ourselves, again couldn’t find squat. Some of the townsfolk started spreading rumors that it wasn’t no wolf—it’s someone. Or, amongst the young’ns, something. Some pew-riders are calling it the unraveling of Revelation. I heard all kinds of stuff on the way back home.
I just shrugged it all off. I’ve never been superstitious, nor am I that religious anymore. Just some hungry-ass wolves that we got to deal with.
January 12 – 5:30PM
I woke up around five this morning because of cop lights blaring not far from my place. Came over to see the same Fat Lad, but he was more focused this time around. Diligent. Directing people and acting like he knew how to do his job.
Guess I wasn’t off the mark about them only caring when it’s murder.
Jackie Romaine was a nice lady. We didn’t talk much, but she used to sub over at the elementary school. She loved pottery and would give away vases and cups she made. Everyone loved the designs with the leaves against the ceramic coating. Her son left town several years ago to be a business major, but he’d always come to visit by Christmas.
Fat Lad wouldn’t let anyone past the yellow tape guarding Jackie’s house. Wasn’t sure if I would be mentally prepared to see what had happened. I saw a couple other cops come out of the house—both middle aged and seemingly army-grizzled given their haircuts and tattoos—and they looked pale as a sheet. One looked like they were going to vomit.
The town was shaken into a wild frenzy all day. The rumor mill churned, as it tends to do around here, but far more rabidly.
‘It was the thing.’
‘It was the mafia.’
‘It was a sign of the end times.’
‘It was the wolves. The goddamn wolves!’
That last one was from Ronny. He seemed convinced it was the same wolves that did it all. His stock, the chickens, Jackie—all from the wolves. I told him not to speak ill of the dead, talking so lightly about murder. But he was serious. He said, “Son, I’m this close getting my twelve-gauge and poppin’ these bastards ‘fore they get hold’a someone else!”
It was really hard to take the man seriously. He was a Vietnam vet. The war fucked him up. This Rambo rambling was one of many he made. Got him in trouble once when he threatened to shoot the dog of a Korean family who moved in when it kept barking at night. Didn’t help he was drunk as a skunk. He was unfiltered. Needless to say the rest of the town apologized profusely to them, including Ronny’s wife who thankfully kept him in check after that incident. But every once in a while, he slips into a rant, and everyone does their best to pay no heed.
That said, I can’t think of anything else that could do that much damage beyond a big wolf, maybe a bear. Perhaps a loose lion from the zoo. Certainly can’t be human. Can’t fathom someone being that fucked in the head. Having seen that cow, or what little was left of it, I’m as worried as anyone else, and the sooner we get after them the better.
Didn’t want to encourage the guy, though, so I just nod and smile while he envisioned his one-man war on the wolves. Last thing we need is someone going on a suicide mission. His wife assured me he was just spewing bullshit as per usual before scolding him something fierce as I left. I sincerely hope he doesn’t do anything stupid.
January 13 – 1:20AM
Ronny’s wife banged on the door a few after midnight. Ronny’s missing. She said he was going out himself to ‘tend to the wolves’ with his shotgun. I asked her not to tell anyone else—last thing we need is a damn panic after what all happened. Odds are he probably got lost and was slumped to sleep after realizing his body ain’t what it used to be. That’s what I told her. And myself.
Just in case, I took my own gun—an old hunting rifle that I rarely ever used—and a flashlight. I’d said I’d be back before long.
Perfect luck. It’s a blizzard outside, and the snow that was already a blanket got thicker and harder to traverse. I’m freezing my ass off trying to find a crazy old man with a shotgun. My worst fear was that he’d mistake me for a wolf and pull the trigger. I’m not that much of a hunter and only went maybe once or twice with a few friends, and my shit aim remained a recurring in-joke with us. In other words, I’d die either to a wolf or the old man.
I went pretty far out, further than when we went hunting for the wolves. I’d say I went a mile before I lost track of where I was. It’s pitch black and the snow blocked any further view than a few feet in front of me even with the flashlight. Even if I wanted to turn back, I didn’t know where ‘back’ was.
Then I smelled something. A nasty, putrid smell. I moved ahead and the smell got worse. I walked a few feet closer until I was greeted by Ronny’s gaping face, like his muscles stopped and froze mid-scream. Gave me a damn heart attack on how sudden it snuck up on me. I flopped back on my ass and saw his intestines spewed and strewn from tree to tree. Like something carried his guts back and forth.
Ronny’s words came back to me. It was the wolves, the goddamn wolves. I became more paranoid, scared, panicked. Over the distance, bleeding through the dark and the thick blizzard, were bright yellow eyes.
It was the wolves. The goddamn wolves.
I didn’t think. I readied my rifle. Aimed. Fired. Two, three, four shots I attempted. I didn’t see the eyes again for a minute. My heart was kicking wildly. I either got it or it dodged. I shot it or I didn’t. I’m alive or I’m dead. That’s all that went through my mind. I didn’t want to see the results. I ran.
A few minutes of frantic running later, I’m tackled from the side. I played football briefly in high school—and this hit less like a big guy twice your size and more like a damn truck. I got slammed against a tree. When I reoriented myself, I saw the yellow eyes again. I didn’t have time to reload my rifle. I barely had enough time to reach it. The eyes came closer, and I swung like a batter at pitch. My rifle snapped in half upon impact. Whatever the hell I hit got knocked out.
My heart began to relax a bit, but I was still on edge. Curiosity came over me, though, so I looked over to see what I smacked. It wasn’t a wolf. It was wolf-like, but mostly human, with pale skin and messy black hair extending past the heels. Still breathing. Sympathy overcame me.
The blizzard was still thick, but with the fur-thing lumped over my back, I stumbled my way into an alcove carved into a stone overhang. It blocked the direction of the wind and snow well enough. I put my flashlight on the ground facing up as a makeshift room lamp. With the light from it, I was able to take a better look at the ‘wolf’.
She was a small girl, looked young in the face—maybe teenage? Hard to tell. She had thick hair all over her forearms and legs as if she’d been growing it for years. She did have a skinned rabbit pelt wrapped around her chest and hips for clothing, but the rest of her was barely human. She had fangs, sharp fangs, the likes you would find on a real wolf. Her fingers and toes curled into long claws. They weren’t unkempt nails, either; they were black and smoothed out cleanly to a fine point.
Her hands and mouth were coated with blood. Fresh. I’m not sure if she was the killer, but it’s hard not to think otherwise. She was certainly capable despite her size.
At this point, I want to sleep a bit, but I’m honestly too scared to. I know hell’s going to break loose the moment she opens her eyes. Not like I can run out and make it far in this snowstorm. Even if I knew the way back, I can’t risk bringing this tank into town. At the same time, I don’t have the heart to finish the job—assuming she really is the killer. Which may be a safe assumption given the blood, but you know what they say about assuming.
Still, I felt bad about the whole altercation. I shuffled around and felt a granola bar in my jacket pocket—stuffed there just in case I got stuck in a tight spot. And while this is the tightest of spots I could possibly imagine being in, I left it at her side. Maybe that’ll placate her instead of my flesh.
cont’d – 10:30AM
Sleep did eventually overtake me. I woke up from someone patting my cheek. Fat Lad stretched across my vision and asked me what happened. I turned my head. No sign of the girl or the granola bar I left her.
I told him almost everything—about Ronny, my fight with the wolf, and waiting out the blizzard in the alcove. I withheld the fact of what the ‘wolf’ really was. He offered to take me back home and thanked me for my testimony.
Ronny’s wife plans to move out of town to her family in Florida. She can’t bear to live here and be constantly reminded of her husband being murdered so grisly nearby. Despite him being an old bastard, she cared for him, as did he her. I feel for her. I’d do the same thing. Hell, I kind of want to get out of dodge myself.
At this point I don’t know what to do. That feral girl may still be out there. I can’t hide that forever. I’m not sure why I even hid that fact in the first place. I want to speak to her—if she even speaks at all—and figure out what the hell is going on. Why she’s here. Why the killings are happening.
January 19 – 4:30PM
I’m out here in the woods again. Fifth night. Not quite where Ronny died, but just as far out. Sun’s setting and it’s much clearer tonight weather-wise. All I have on me is my hunter’s knife my father gave me. Don’t know how much good it’ll do, but it’s better than nothing. I have a slab of grilled steak wrapped in tinfoil in my satchel. Maybe that’d be enough to satiate her if I come across her. Hopefully it doesn’t draw anything else. Or, perhaps, I’d pray it’s something else that’s easier to handle.
Everyone’s on edge in town now. Most of the neighbors are keeping their porch lights on at night, and they’ve been cycling volunteers on watch duty down each block. Guards from the station are set up at the edges of town, making sure no one leaves or enters without being checked.
No one really knows I’m going out this far. I make it look as if I’m just skimming the edges of the woods. Yesterday was a close one. Got stopped on my way back home and asked what I’ve been doing out so late, and I say, “Scouting for wolves.” It’s technically the truth. I am looking for the ‘wolf’. I just don’t know what’ll happen if I see her.
I pray I find her before they do—they won’t have any hesitation. They’ll kill her on the spot. I can’t let them do that, not until I know her story.
January 19 or 20 – ?
Don’t know what time it is. Watch broke. I feel like shit. It hurts to write, but I need to, or else I’m going to forget everything.
I saw something on the horizon that night. At first I thought it was her. Before I got a chance to get a better look, the old Fat Lad waded towards me. He got really pissed I was out this far. I pushed us down and told him to stay quiet, pointing to the shadow. He did, best he could anyway.
I pulled out the steak I grilled and tossed it a good ways out. Aimed it basically to third base, if it was second and we were home. But something wasn’t right. It was different. It did act wolf-like. We saw it move on all fours. It had a tail. It sniffed the ground, tracing towards the meat ever so slowly.
Then, bang.
Fat Lad lined up his pistol and just fired. Had no idea he pulled out his gun since all I could see of him was his ass. I scolded him something fierce. Told him not to draw attention. Too late for that, I guess.
The shadow rushed up towards us. I realized pretty damn quickly that wasn’t her. It was big, much bigger, even compared to Fat Lad. It was basically the size of a Ford pickup. Before I even got to tell Fat Lad to run, he was already halfway in its mouth.
The thing tossed the body across the field and followed it like a sickening game of fetch. I saw within the bloodied snow the poor Fat Lad’s pistol. Grabbed it and checked the rounds. Still had plenty. I had no game plan, but I couldn’t let that thing into town. I took aim and tried shooting it. They all missed, save one, but it just kind of putzed off of its hide. The moment its eyes turned to me, I thought I was done for.
And I would’ve, had she not appeared.
It was unbelievable. She climbed all around that beast, scratching and biting the shit out of it. The larger thing just tossed her off, but she skated on all fours. She moved like she really was a wolf. In her head, I think she might’ve been. She moved faster than any person I’ve ever seen, taking pot shots at the creature. She’d scratch it at the leg or stomach and run back out for spacing. Back and forth, back and forth, like a yo-yo or a boomerang.
The monster took a big swing at her with its paw. I saw a trail of blood spurt from her as she was shot back from the blow. At that point I wasn’t even thinking. My body was moving by itself. I didn’t see with my eyes—it’s like I had an out-of-body experience, seeing myself move toward the monster. Pistol in hand, I climbed on its back when it was focused on her. Jabbed it right between the skull and spine and just started firing.
Again, wasn’t thinking. All I wanted to do was protect everyone. The town, the girl… I just jumped onto it. It swiped its paw and my vision snapped back to my eyes as I’m hurdling to the ground. Looked at the gap across my shoulder to my chest. At that point, I thought that was that. I’m dead meat. My vision blurred. Yet I saw the girl shoot past me. I heard a painful howl, then a loud plop of meat crash down and shake the ground.
I felt my body being dragged against my will towards a tree. Wasn’t sure if it was her or the wolf until I was propped upright. I tried focusing my eyes and saw her. The wolf girl. She ripped part of her pelt covering and wrapped it around my chest to bandage the wound.
She actually spoke. “You… dun-dun?”
I had no idea what she was talking about. She suddenly jammed the side of her head into my chest. I winced due to my gash, but she seemed like she was making sure I was still alive by checking my heartbeat. She sighed in relief hearing it.
“Good dun-dun. Wolf kill I’s family… No dun-dun… I stop wolf. Too late. Wolf kill you’s family, too… I sorry…”
At this point, I’m barely alive. I wanted to say ‘thank you’, but words couldn’t come out. The last thing she said was, “I fix pain… Stay. Keep dun-dun.”
I don’t know how much longer I can stay conscious, but if anyone else finds this, please, don’t hurt her. She is innocent. She didn’t do those killings Pleas e
January 27 – 10PM
Feels surreal writing in this. Also a bit sore. My whole upper body’s wrapped in gauze like a mummy. At least I don’t have to bundle up as much when going out in the cold. Does get a little too warm at night when I’m sweltering under my covers, but still, silver linings.
Cops took my journal as evidence in their investigation about this whole mess. They’re wanting to keep this hush-hush as possible, avoid this place becoming a tourist attraction for mystery fanatics and sasquatch surveyors. They made me sign a waiver to not speak of this ‘incident’ in public to get this back. They also don’t want me going out and finding the wolf girl—they still consider her a ‘suspect’. Honestly, I’m surprised they even believed in any of this.
I still see a bit of my blood on the pages from what happened. Good thing I wrote it down, too—as I surmised, I didn’t remember jack. Faint glimpses, sure, but nowhere near the level as this. I wanted this as a reminder that this wasn’t some fucked-up dream. A better reminder compared to losing some of our closest neighbors. You can’t just pretend that never happened and sweep it under the rug. But at least we can sleep soundly.
Thanks to her.
March 23 – 1PM
Despite the chaos that trampled the town, everyone’s started to move on. Not sure if the others had the same ‘talk’ as I was given, but needless to say it’s far more relaxed now. We have new neighbors taking up where Ronny and his wife were. Jackie’s son and his family came over to pay respects. They plan to tear down Jackie’s home and make it a small museum featuring all her old pottery.
Chest is better, at least. Got my stitches removed. Docs still say to take it easy for a while. That’s fine by me. I can use a longer staycation. Even though I’m not to look for the girl, it hasn’t stopped me from enjoying a fresh brew of coffee out near the woods each morning. I’m not actively looking for her. I’m just here, and maybe there’d be a passing by of her. They didn’t say anything about coincidences.
As luck would have it, I saw someone in the distance this morning. Long, black hair, small… wolf-like. I was cautious how to react, slowly raising my arm. She seemed to try and approach, but she quickly took off. Maybe someday I can properly say ‘thank you’ to her. Though I saw to my right the reason why she skittered off like that. The new neighbors. Hunters. They were clad in camouflage and geared up for game. “What’re you hunting?” I asked.
“We’re lookin’ fer deer,” they said in a thick Southern accent. “Denny said you was a hunter back in the day! Ya wanna come with, neighbor?”
“’Fraid not. I wouldn’t really want to hunt out in these woods.”
“Why not?”
I simply smiled. “There’s wolves in the woods.”