The Great Poan Hunt

“PULL OVER!” The sheriff’s car raced down the road in hot pursuit, dust spouting up behind it. The whining siren and flaring headlights savagely beat the night into submission. The wheels screeched, and the stench of crying brakes filled the small car. Sheriff Rod Stern rolled down his windows to feel the cool of the evening rush in.

He veered a sharp left with the road, and the man in the gray sedan in front of him had some difficulty but maintained his distance. The sheriff spun into the curve hard, and his Great Dane, Snout, yelped, as he fell into the window. Sheriff Stern grasped his com to call out to the man again, but it was no use. He’d catch him soon. He wasn’t a rookie cop like Sam Noutan. He could recite the Miranda Rights even in his deepest state of sleep.

Snout’s slobbery nose fell onto Rod’s lap, but he hardly noticed. He was finally gaining on his prey. The man didn’t have Sheriff Stern’s driving skills.

Hard left.

RIGHT !

LEFT!

Sheriff Stern tailgated the sedan and bumped up against him. The sedan swerved, and paper flew out of the window. Receipts.

BANG! Gunfire erupted, and Rod swiveled his police car to avoid the bullets. He didn’t like to use his gun unless it was his last resort. The next shot flew through the window, nearly missing Snout. The big dog barked back. The next bullet found its way in the dashboard, sending sparks flying through the car. That was it. With deadly accuracy, Sheriff Stern aimed and fired.

POP! The sedan swerved and spun out of control. It accelerated off the road and side-first into the forest. The sheriff slammed on the breaks, and Snout yelped as he flew forward. The scrawny man in the sedan, with the popped tire, limped out of his car and away into the dense woods. A trickle of blood fell from his cranium. Rod threw his car into park next to the sedan and jumped out, his dog close behind and his gun out front.

“Get down on the ground!” The sheriff shouted as he spotted the figure bouncing into the night. He wasted no time. He fired once, and it ricocheted. Snout lunged forward, but he didn’t make a sound. He and the sheriff were the best hunting team, and no one crossed them. Rod shot in the air to scare the man, and in the distance, he heard a screech. Sheriff Stern grinned and rushed after his quarry.

Snout sniffed the man, but the dog hadn’t gotten him. A large branch crushed him. The sheriff raised an eyebrow, but the next thing to raise was his blood pressure. He knew exactly what this meant. His eyes widened, and his pace quickened. He grasped the groaning runner and attempted to yank him out from underneath. But, as the sheriff suspected, it was useless.

The next morning, crimson tainted the sky. News travels fast in a small town, and the local bar, the Old Tree, was full, by noon, of people drowning their sorrow. No one said a word. That was until Reiss Mada waltzed in. He moved from the city and was quite ditzy for a lawyer. The town pondered how anyone like him could be a successful lawyer, so they wondered if he had to do with the town’s drug problem. 

“Make mine a Dirty Poan,” Reiss ordered, trying to fit in. He found happiness with this local mix: vodka, apple pie schnapps, apple cider, cinnamon syrup, garnished with a cinnamon stick and a slice of apple. The town was surely proud of their plethora of apple trees, and this was evident in their drink mixes. The lanky bartender, Sherry, passed the drink off to Reiss, and he loudly slurped it. He didn’t normally drink this early, but everyone else was. And, he wasn’t one to pass on the opportunity. “Good morning, everyone.” The bar moaned in response, and he raised an eyebrow. “Our team lose again?”

“Did you not hear the news?” Sherry asked. Reiss shook his head. He wasn’t in the habit of reading the local paper yet, but he was working on remembering. Sort of. He’d have to soon if he wanted to expand his clientele. “Our sheriff… He was chasing Billy Serp last night for dealing coke, among other things. And… And… They went too far. Those woods just beyond Eva’s Apple Farm…” A few of the men in the back spat onto the ground.

“What? Is there someone back there?”

“Somethin’.” A man with a flowing gray beard and muscles popping out of his white t-shirt rose to his feet, a camouflage rifle slung over his shoulder. Snout stepped out from under the man’s feet to greet Reiss. Everyone else was silent, as they knew exactly what the man meant. “Billy was soft, but only one thin’ could have done that to a man like Rod Stern.”

“Gary, please,” Sherry begged.

“The Poan,” Gary said. Everyone spit onto the ground.

“Wha? What even?” Reiss took another sip of his drink, trying to understand. He didn’t realize his drink was the answer.

“Your drink, lad,” Gary started, “what do you think it’s named after? That dreaded menace.” Gary spat onto Reiss’s shoes, and Reiss shuffled backwards. He paid good money for those shoes. Before he could escape, Gary grabbed onto him. “They may look like raccoons, but they’re so much more! Claw-like fingers. Opposable thumbs! A second set of arms below the first! And, their back legs. OOOOHHH!!! WHEEE!!! Nasty-looking cricket legs, made for jumpin’. Monkey-like tail. Oh, and that grin. That grin.” Gary grabbed the sides of his mouth and tugged at them to distort his face as far as he could. “We have ‘em bad ‘round here, especially in the woods just beyond the apple farms. But, they make themselves known.”

“Oh, really?” Reiss laughed and pushed himself away. “Bizarre raccoons? Have you seen any?”

“No one sees a Poan!” Gary scoffed. “Not unless they want to be seen. And, not unless you know what to look for. I’ve seen a few. They’re quite small, masters of the trees. ‘Round here, they burn trees, knock off branches, steal food, and hunt anyone who goes too close to their nests.”

“So, what? Are they like gremlins or something?”

“Much worse, lad. Much worse. Some say Hell spat them out. I for one sure believe it. And, I for one say that they went too far this time.” Gary raised his arms out to the community. “I say we find that sorry son-of-a-bitch and shoot its goddam face off. Send him straight back.” The others turned away from Gary. People trusted Gary Pine, but they were too afraid of the Poan. They would take fires and decimated crops over certain death.

“What?” Reiss laughed, almost falling onto the floor. “You’re going to go hunt a gremlin?”

“Poan,” Gary corrected. “If you pay attention, I’ll help you spot one. They’re everywhere.” Reiss continued to laugh. “Perhaps, you’d like to come with me.”

“Well…” Reiss considered this. Everyone eyed him, waiting to see what he would say. This was the most attention he’d had since arriving, and he loved it. If he could hold their attention, maybe he could build his clientele. “I guess there’s no harm in coming with.” He smirked, but the others downed their drinks. They considered stopping him, but they also wanted Gary to succeed. He was the town’s best shot, and they knew that once his mind was set on something, there was no changing it.

“Good, me lad. When we get back, the next round will be on me.” Gary whistled for Snout to follow, and he complied. The survivor from last night needed some justice, and Gary knew it. Justice was something he wholeheartedly believed in. Gary clasped Reiss’s shoulder and ushered him outside.

Gary handed Reiss a handgun, but Reiss waved it away. The sun still beat down, and the cold, fall air filled their noses. Gary led the lawyer to his rusty truck.

“Suit yourself,” Gary said. “You’re gonna need it.” He slammed the door and turned over the engine. It coughed a few times before roaring to life.

“I’m only here to see a Poan. Let’s be clear.” Reiss clipped himself into the seat, and Gary shrugged. Snout lay across the back seats. “We off to the north woods?”

“We’re off to Poan territory. The scene of the crime. Both Sheriff Stern and Billy were found at the foot of the woods this morning. Right in line with one another.”

“So, a murderer?”

“Sort of.” The truck bumped and kicked up dirt down a familiar path. “But, a murderer don’t present their prey. That’s the kind of thing a ruler orders for his castle: to have the dead on the outskirts of his kingdom to set an example. But, we’re not to be made an example of, especially as they continue to raid our town. Not with our best sheriff dead.”

“Okay.” Reiss restrained a giggle.

“Must suck for a dog to outlive his owner. Came running right up to my house, you know. Recognizes me from years of off-work drinkin’.” Gary spun around to acknowledge the Great Dane. “Don’t worry.” He grasped both hands on the wheel. “We’ll make them pay.”

Gary pulled his car onto the side of the road, where a car had clearly smashed into a tree, and killed the engine. He slung his rifle over his shoulder and filled a rucksack with extra bullets. The two men nodded to one another and disappeared into the forest.

These trees weren’t just old. They were ancient. They stretched up into the heavens and swayed in perfect harmony. The sweet smell of sap flew into the air. Branches reached their arms out to touch their friends, and the sun fell into a shadowy matrix. Gary and Reiss navigated the network to find the scene of the crime. The wind rustled the leaves and spoke in riddles. The sparse noises made Reiss jump. Gary was too used to the sounds of the forest. To the sounds of the enemy. To the distinction between the two.

Reiss broke the silence to ease some tension. “You been married?”

“Once.” Gary’s answer raised Reiss’s hopes of getting through to him. “Bitch left me during the war. You?”

“Oh no.” Reiss shook his head dramatically. “A few partners but nothing serious.”

“Ayah? How you supposed to be a good lawyer if you can’t keep a relationship?”

“Well, I make a point of keeping my professional and personal lives separate.”

“Ah.” Gary chuckled to himself, paying more attention to the environment. The calm sounds. The harsh smells. The subtle movement. With every rustle, Gary spun around. Nothing.

The two skulked around the brush into the afternoon, and Reiss’s stomach growled. Gary hadn’t eaten in a while either, but there was far too much adrenaline pumping in the hunter’s veins for him to notice. Something crashed to his right. Pivot. Aim. Nothing.

Something to the left. Pivot. Aim. Nothing.

Above. Up. Aim. Nothing. Useless. All that was there was rustling-

A large crack erupted from high above, and a large branch plummeted to the ground. Gary threw Reiss out of the way, as he stared in awe. Stumbling back, Gary barely rolled out of the way as the branch wacked the ground inches from him, earth splattering across his face. He wiped it off and ran to Reiss’s aid.

“Did you see ‘im?”

“See what? The branch falling?” Reiss stumbled up and brushed himself off.

“No, lad!” Excitement glistened in Gary’s eyes. “It was only brief, but there was a Poan in that there tree.” He motioned to the falling tapestry of the forest.

“All I saw was a falling branch. Not something unusual for a forest, especially one as old as this.” Reiss shrugged.

“Pay attention.” Gary guided them further into the forest, and it became denser. It wasn’t long until they came across a pool of blood, the dark coloration of a Red Delicious. Gary hunkered down to touch it with his expert hands to examine the consistency. “This is where they were.” He rose and held his rifle high in his hands. He peeked through the scope but couldn’t find anything.

Just behind them, a branch loudly snapped, and they braced themselves. Gary spun around to spot something in his scope. To spot it. To spot the face of a raccoon.

Without hesitation, Gary fired, and the raccoon was thrown back from his perch and thumped onto the ground below. Snout yelped and tore through the underbrush after the prey, Gary and Reiss close behind. Gary hollered out in triumph, and his voice echoed in the trees. There it was at last!

The deformed raccoon lay on its side, and Snout barked at it. Gary pet him, and he returned to his docile state. Gary swooped down to grasp the animal and held it by the back of its nape, or what was left of it. Gary’s one shot blew the poor creature’s head clean off. His eyes widened as he was face to face with his enemy. Those legs. That tail. But, something was wrong. Upon further inspection, he noticed that it was only the branches embedded in its fur that gave the illusion of many legs.

“Did we get it?” Reiss laughed, glad to be done with this wild goose chase. “Is this the mighty Poan?”

“No.” Gary shoved the dead animal into Reiss’s face, and he stepped back, gagging a bit. “Only a decoy.”

“Decoy? For what?”

CRASH! A large branch as thick as most trees plummeted from just above them and crushed Gary’s legs. They snapped under the weight, and Gary cried in agony. The tinier off-shooting branches knocked Reiss on his back. Reiss jumped to his feet and rushed over to the hunter who begged to be freed. He pushed with all his might, but despite their combined strength, the branch wasn’t going to move.

“Damn! Crafty sons-of-bitches!” Gary grasped his gun, and grabbed Reiss by the collar. “Even if you could get me out, I couldn’t walk. Go get help. I’ll keep huntin’.” Gary did his best to cock his rifle, and Reiss rushed away.

Snout dashed forward, and Reiss followed. However, the Great Dane was too fast for him, and it wasn’t long until he was alone again. As he jogged through the trees, he noticed how quiet everything was. How the Poan was mocking him. How it was waiting for him to do something.

Reiss walked for what felt like forever. He wasn’t much of a hiker, but he was sure that he had been wandering longer than he should have been. Where was the car? Where was the road? Past the heat of the day and into the twilight and early evening, Reiss hopelessly meandered towards where he thought they came from. Then, he saw something. Someone! He rushed forward to meet him, but he stopped dead in his tracks, his heart raced, and he screamed.

At first, it was merely a dark, motionless shadow on the ground. After hours spent in this growing maze, his brain made shapes out of nothing. Beings out of nothing. Upon closer inspection, Reiss saw that it was Gary. His body mangled almost beyond recognition. His head, a sickly and distorted shape and color of a Yellow Bellflower apple. His rifle, missing. 

Reiss slowly backed away. He was tired. He was starving. The trees closed around him. He was lost. And, worst of all, he was somehow back where he started.

He spun around and tore through the forest thinking that maybe this time would be different. This time, he’d make it back. His mouth dried up. His legs ached. The sun set beyond the horizon in the town, but there were too many clouds to see any colors. Only gray. Reiss screamed at the top of his lungs. Hollered for anyone. But, no one could hear him.

He knew, he swore, he saw the road. He rushed forward with all his might. He knew. The sound. The smell of gasoline. He lunged forward and kissed the ground. When he gazed back up, he cried, but no tears flowed. He was back at the spot again with Gary’s rotting corpse below him.

Reiss pounded the floor and cursed the forest. Cursed the Poan and gave up his last saliva to spit at them. He madly threw dirt into the air and pleaded with the night sky. Maybe if he climbed a tree, he could see the way back to the road. He wasn’t the best climber, but the large branches made it easy.

The wind blew louder and harder with every several feet Reiss climbed, and it came as a relief to him. He briefly closed his eyes and noticed the top of the tree once more. But, this time, he saw something else too. Something that seemed to glow in the moonlight above him: a red apple, the most delicious-looking apple he had ever seen in his entire life.

Reiss’s mouth watered, and he scrambled over to it. Finally, food. He had never seen apple trees so big, but he wasn’t questioning anything anymore. He reached out for the apple, and a sudden sharp pain jabbed into the sides of his arm. He peered up to see the wide, exaggerated, toothy grin of a demented raccoon. The last thing Reiss saw was that crisp, red apple. The bright red apple printed on an otherwise camouflaged Poan.

Night fell, and Snout burst into the Old Tree. He crawled under one of the bar stools. No one spoke a word. They all understood. They raised a glass, toasting with the Dirty Poan. Snout dropped an object onto the floor. It rolled into the middle of the bar. Another loss. Another victim. Another apple, fallen.