Eric Linnaeus | Book 1 | Chapter 2 - My Co-Workers Also Suck (Patreon)

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ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝟚 - 𝕄𝕪 ℂ𝕠-𝕨𝕠𝕣𝕜𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝔸𝕝𝕤𝕠 𝕊𝕦𝕔𝕜ᴄʜᴀʀʟᴇs ᴡᴀʟsʜ: ᴍᴀʏ, 𝟷𝟿𝟿𝟾.

─── ⋆⋅✧⋅⋆ ───

I didn’t know who ‘Linnaeus’ was. It’s a small town, if he was local, I’m sure I would have heard the name before. I spent half the night thinking over how cagey Barrett had gotten about some footprints in the woods, and the other half speculating about what I had heard. I was sure he was hiding something, but I couldn’t decide what I thought it was. Why had he seemed so reluctant to call in help? And what kind of specialist would be useful when we didn’t even know exactly what we were dealing with? That was probably something else Barrett wouldn’t tell me, I thought indignantly.

When I arrived at work the following morning, an unfamiliar motorcycle was parked out front. It was a vintage model BMW, painted black with chrome accents, and sported unusual whitewall tires, making it stand out against the dirt. The seat was leather, and I gave it a wide berth. Whoever’s it was, it looked expensive, and I wouldn’t want to accidentally scratch the paint or something.

I made a conscious effort to be pleasant when I entered the office. The Sheriff’s inaction the night before still didn’t sit right with me, but in the interest of keeping the peace, I decided to at least try. Maybe he would even be willing to explain if I played nice. “Good morning,” I greeted the office warmly and was subsequently met with an uncomfortable silence.

Were they still angry about last night as well? The atmosphere was tense. Diane sat stiffly at her desk. Her usually cheerful disposition was instead an expression of displeasure with lips pursed tightly, although she did give me a sly smile as I set down a box of donuts on the corner of her desk. “I hope you’re ready for this, kid,” she commented, eyeing off a jam-filled pastry.

“You know me, I’m ready for anything,” I assured a little too enthusiastically, trying to inject some life into the room. “Where’s the Sheriff?”

“In his office. Knock first,” she warned.

“Right,” I agreed nervously as I headed past the reception area to the office.

Did they find a body? Or was I wrong after all, and it was all just a wild goose chase that put Barrett in bad spirits? I speculated anxiously over what new development on yesterday's disappearances could have soured the mood so dramatically.

I had almost reached the Sheriff’s office when the door opened abruptly, and Barrett came marching out. “Look, I don’t want to know the details. I just want it taken care of,” he was speaking gruffly to someone behind him.

“I understand,” an unfamiliar voice answered in an oddly neutral tone.

“I mean it; I want you gone the second this is over- oh, Charles, you’re early. Good. I want you to meet Eric Linnaeus.” The Sheriff’s tone changed as he noticed my presence.

Behind him, another man followed. He was of average height, handsome, and well-dressed with dark hair. But what caught my attention first was how young he seemed to be, early twenties, I guessed. So it was surprising to see that he walked with a limp. Additionally, his right arm was bandaged in a sling close to his body, leaving the sleeve of his jacket hanging empty on that side, and he relied on a cane to walk.

Taken aback, I didn’t realize I was staring until he made eye contact with me, then my blood turned to ice. His right eye was sliced, or at least that was my initial assumption. Looking closer, his left eye seemed normal and was blue in color, while the other appeared to have no whites to it. Instead, it was purple and had a dark slit through the center where the iris should have been, similar to a cat’s eye.

“It’s not polite to stare,” Eric informed me in monotone. He had a slight foreign accent that I couldn't place, and his expression was equally as hard to decipher.

“Sorry,” I apologized, feeling guilty nonetheless. “I’m Charles.”

“You’re the one who discovered the abandoned campsite.” It was a statement rather than a question, and I nodded. “Take me to where you found it,” he ordered, and I wavered, looking to Barrett for direction. I wasn’t sure whether or not I was supposed to take commands from this man.

“Do as he asks; you might learn something from him. In fact, consider him to be your team lead until this matter is resolved… I want nothing to do with it.” Sheriff Barrett muttered the last part mostly to himself.

We took out the utility vehicle instead of the ATV because it had two seats, and I didn't think he could ride on his own, given his condition. Of course, the trail was, by now, closed due to the disappearances. So travel was a lot faster since I didn’t have to worry about running over any tourists. The clouds from the day before had stayed, and despite not actually raining yet, they cast a gloomy haze over the forest, making the air feel heavy.

This was usually the kind of weather that encouraged wildlife to come out. But instead, the entire area was uncharacteristically devoid of life. The usual sounds of birdsong and small animals rustling in the leaves was non-existent. It was like entering a dead zone where only the whirr of the UTV engine broke the silence.

“So, Sheriff Barrett called you in? Do you have special experience with this kind of case?” I asked to make light conversation.

Eric was quiet before answering carefully, “You could say that.”

“I’m surprised then; you seem so young,” I commented with a laugh.

“I’m older than I look,” he answered plainly.

“Right, well, are you sure you’ll be okay out here? I mean, the terrain is kind of rough…” I wasn’t trying to be rude, but I had doubts that he would be able to navigate off-trail.

“I’ll be fine.”

“How did you get hurt anyway? If you don’t mind my asking, what happened to your-”

“You talk a lot when you’re nervous. It’s annoying,” he commented curtly, and my mouth snapped shut. It’s true that I did tend to talk more to release nervous energy, but a simple, ‘I don’t want to talk about it’ would have sufficed. That was probably the first moment I decided I didn’t like him.

His strange monotone and lack of human emotion bothered me, especially in the unsettling ambiance of the woods. It was almost like he took on the personality of the forest, or like it took on his.

When we arrived at the abandoned campsite, everything was as I had left it the day prior. Silent, empty, and oddly terrifying. I radioed back to let the station know we’d reached our destination and listened dutifully as Barrett responded sternly, ‘You be careful out there now. Stay near Linnaeus in case anything happens, you understand me?’

“Copy that,” I grumbled. It felt like I had been assigned a babysitter on a job I was more than capable of handling on my own.

Eric stepped out of the UTV and began investigating the area for himself. I don’t know what he thought he might find, I had already looked it over yesterday, and there was nothing. Maybe he just enjoyed wasting his time. Begrudging, I hopped off the UTV to follow him. Walking over the trampled site was unsettling. The sound of that inhuman scream echoed through my thoughts, and fear trickled through my veins.

Ahead Eric was now moving down the same unmarked path I had traveled the day prior. He looked out of place amongst the foliage, too ‘à la mode’ for the wilderness, I thought sarcastically. Watching this guy with his chrome capped cane and impractically high-collared overcoat, he was far too neat and proper. I bet he'd show some emotion if he got mud on his boots. I mused to myself.

“There’s a tree with a tent caught high in the branches up that way. That's about where I found the footprints,” I spoke as I trailed after him.

“I can see it. Although, the rain has probably washed away any footprints,” he answered plainly.

When I caught up with him, he was examining the strange charm in the tree, “Was this here yesterday?”

“Yes. I don’t know what it is.”

He obviously wasn’t listening to me, as he was already moving on before I finished responding.

Unfortunately, he was right when he assumed the rain would wash away the evidence. There was no longer a clear trail past the tree. The storm that blew through during the night had disturbed the prints, and I doubted we could track anything specific now. This is why it surprised me when Eric continued on.

He stumbled with his cane and almost fell over a branch, which seemed to annoy him. “Fine,” he muttered to himself, frustrated, then his gait suddenly evened out as he resumed pushing through the brush. I wondered how that was possible and what had just happened. I couldn’t see any difference from moments before, yet he appeared to be moving more easily now.

When he got to the river, he stopped. “You said you found items scattered about but no signs of exiting footprints?” Eric asked as he crouched down to inspect the edge of the water.

“Yeah. If they went into the river, I never found the spot where they got out. I only found some more of those strange prints down that way,” I pointed downstream distractedly, still trying to understand what I had witnessed. Were my eyes playing tricks on me?

“Did you travel upstream?” he asked casually.

“… No…” I responded hesitantly. I expected he would chastise me. However, with this information, he simply stood and started making his way up the river without saying another word.

This time I watched him more closely. I had been concerned about him navigating the uneven riverbed prior, yet now he was more agile than he should have been, and I was beginning to wonder exactly how injured he truly was. We traveled on for some time, but there didn’t seem to be any indication that the missing campers had come this way, and progress forward stopped when we reached the base of a large waterfall. It seemed unlikely that anyone would try to climb over it. That was a relief; he was probably wrong. The campers must have gone downstream after all…

“They left the water here,” he announced casually. He was standing only a few yards away from the base of the waterfall and looking toward the forest.

“How can you tell?” I was sure he was making it up.

He deliberated as if deciding what exactly he should tell me, “I’m very good at guessing.”

“And I’m just supposed to go with that?”

“Yes.”

He began to make his way off into the woods, and I followed him begrudgingly. Not because I agreed with or believed him, but because I had no choice. If he was supposed to be my ‘team lead’ for the time being, then it wasn’t my place to argue. To tell you the truth, it was my opinion that he didn’t have the first clue what he was doing. He was probably some hot shot that had lied on his resume, just like he was lying about being impaired, and would inevitably end up lost within the hour. Then it would be up to me to find our way back.

So when, after less than fifteen minutes, we found a teddy bear amongst the foliage, my pride shriveled up. It seemed, despite appearances, that Eric might know what he was doing after all.

“Have you ever seen a dead body before?” he asked me calmly as he picked up the stuffed bear.

“No…” I admitted, “Why?”

“… It seems… likely, that we will come across a body soon,” he said carefully, “Please do your best to prepare yourself for such an event.”

Something in the way he said it made me feel like he already knew what we were going to find. There was no doubt in his voice, and I couldn’t help but think about what we would uncover: the child that owned this teddy bear? Their parents? Their siblings? Most likely huddled together somewhere they guessed was sheltered for the night, only for the elements to overcome them. How was I going to explain to their loved ones that I could have saved them if only I had traveled upstream yesterday?

“Charles,” Eric’s voice interrupted my thoughts, and my stomach dropped.

Ahead the trees were thinning into a small clearing, and patches of bright color were strewn about the space. I didn’t need to be told what they were. I could tell it was the campers’ clothing, but I didn’t want to consider whether or not there were people still wearing them. “You can wait here if you would like,” Eric informed me without emotion. From anyone else, the sentiment might have been a kind one, but from him? I was sure it was patronizing.

I cleared my throat. “No, it’s dangerous to separate,” I tried to sound as uncaring as he did.

“Very well,” he answered more softly than I expected, and that caught me by surprise.

What we found in that clearing was worse than I had imagined. The clothing that was visible through the trees did indeed contain bodies, but they were not huddled together for warmth. No. They had been dead long before the elements could have taken them.

Their remains were in haphazard pieces all over the clearing, torn, mangled, and partially eaten. They lay with varying expressions of fear and pain on their faces. The hardest one to look at for me was a little girl. She couldn’t have been more than fourteen years old. Her torso and legs were separated, her neck stretched and bent at an awful angle. We found one of her arms on the opposite side of the clearing. It was only identifiable due to the size and because it was still in the yellow sleeve of the jacket her torso was wearing.

Aside from massive bodily dismemberment and damage, all the corpses were common in another way. They were all missing their eyes and tongues. The smell was surprisingly bearable; I guess they hadn’t had enough time to fester, but I still felt nauseous.

“Go. Sit over by the edge, away from all this,” Eric told me firmly. I wanted to protest. I wanted to prove myself, but the swell of breakfast threatening to make its return subdued me.

The first time you see a dead body, it changes you in profound ways. But to see people with lives, thoughts and feelings - torn apart, decimated in the way these bodies were… Well, that leaves a scar on your very soul. I think I understood then that Eric wasn’t just an average asshole. The scene didn’t faze him at all, and I got the impression he was someone who had seen this kind of thing a few too many times before.

I don’t know how long I sat in complete silence, processing what I was seeing. “I’ll call it in…” I murmured at last, trying to settle my stomach as I watched Eric analyze each body part.

“No, until we find the animal responsible, it’s safer if there are fewer people on the mountain.”

“Why would any animal attack like this..?” I asked meekly.

He was crouched, inspecting a severed leg at his feet when I asked the question, and he paused as he considered. Carefully looking over to me, as if he was in some way judging something before he answered, “I think it’s nesting.”

“Nesting?”

“Yes, the campsite was too clean. That usually only happens if it’s collecting resources: fabrics, padding, food.”

“What kind of animal does that? Does this?” I gestured to the bodies half-heartedly.

“No animal you would be familiar with. If I had to guess, I would say it's what you would call a ‘monster’.”

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