For nearly four hundred years, life in Bayberry Cove had been an exercise in predictability. Not that anyone complained. Since explorers settled the isolated community in the early 1600s, life had been nearly perfect. While thousands died in Southern colonies, the people of Bayberry Cove survived harsh winters by working the land together, stockpiling and eating wild bayberries as other food sources diminished, and relying on the gentle kindness of neighbors. Many early townsfolk believed the winter fruit was a miracle from God to keep them from starving, making the ceremony to officially name the town a formality. In 1628, seventy-five votes were cast to adopt “Bayberry Cove” as the official name of their settlement. One voter abstained. The motion passed, and the name stuck.
“Good morning, Larry!” shouted Tom Timmerman. Tom was senior editor of the Bayberry Post, and the town’s only investigative journalist. Of course, there wasn’t much to investigate. Larry smiled and nodded, but kept his voice low. As the sheriff of Bayberry Cove, he preferred to let his townspeople sleep as long as humanly possible, and seven o’clock in the morning was simply too early to shout greetings from two blocks away. Not that Larry had to worry about crime in Bayberry Cove. No, the last recorded incident was over a generation ago. Only a few of the town’s elders were even alive during the crime wave, and most of the details had faded from their memories with time.
There was no need to hire a deputy, so Larry spent very little time in the actual police station. “Too lonely in there all by myself,” he would tell Suzanne at the Bayberry Diner, or Roxanne at the Bayberry Coffee House, or Luanne at the Bayberry Bakery, or Maryanne at the Bayberry General Store. His wife, Anne, would sometimes visit the police station with a board game while the kids were at Bayberry Elementary School, but she had her own career as the town’s evening news anchor, so most of her days were spent trying to uncover a story exciting enough to put on the air. Too often, Bayberry News would broadcast thirty full minutes of weather and sports instead.
“Larry, this is Sam.” The call came over the sheriff’s shoulder-mounted radio as he polished off his third cup of Roxanne’s infamous coffee.
“Yeah, Sam, what’s up?” he responded.
“We need you to come out to the north end of Harper’s Woods. Bobby found somethin’ and, well, you better get out here and take a look.”
“I’ll be right there,” Larry answered. It sounded like real police work, which was rare in Bayberry Cove. The thought had his heart racing with fear and excitement. Ten minutes later, Larry was standing next to Sam, staring at the fresh corpse of a giant elk.
“What happened?” the sheriff asked.
“Bobby, head back home and tell your momma that I’ll be runnin’ a little late tonight for supper,” Sam instructed his teenage son.
“But dad,” Bobby protested.
Sam interrupted him. “Bobby, you know the deal about buts ‘round here. You give me one, and I smack yours.”
Bobby sighed and rolled his eyes at the ridiculous threat, but turned to begin his trip home, shaking his head back and forth as he walked.
“Sorry about that,” said Sam, “but the boy found this here elk with Jed, and he doesn't need to hear what I need to say about it.”
“What happened?” Larry asked again.
Sam turned his head right and left to make sure no one was spying on their conversation. “Bobby and Jed were out here goofin’ around last night when they heard some loud noise over by these here bushes.” Sam pointed to the area surrounding the elk’s carcass. “So they went to have a closer look and found this.”
Larry looked at the elk, the bushes, and finally back to Sam. “I don’t get it,” he admitted. “What’s the big deal?”
“The big deal,” Sam whispered loudly, “is that the beast is back.”
“The what is back?”
“The beast,” Sam repeated.
“What beast?”
“Stop playin’ dumb, Larry. You know the stories just as well as I do. The beast.”
Larry looked at Sam like he had antlers growing out of his forehead. “Are you kidding me, Sam? They are just stories. Urban Legends. You are the mayor, for chrissake, you can’t go around believing in childish nonsense!”
“Yeah, Larry, I am the mayor. And as mayor, I got some information that nobody else ‘round this town knows about.”
“Top secret pictures of Big Foot?” Larry mocked.
“I shouldn’t have called you. Get your ass back to the coffee shop and have another doughnut.”
“Sam, come on,” Larry protested. “I was just making a joke. Want me to come right out and say it? No, I don’t believe the stories are true. Hell, I have been around this town my whole life. I practically grew up in these woods, and I have never seen any beast. Never even seen any signs of him. No footprints, no half eaten animals lying around, no tufts of fur stuck on tree bark. I’m thirty-five, Sam, where has this beast been for three and a half decades?”
“Exactly, Larry. You've been in this town for the last thirty-five years. And I've been here for almost fifty. Ever taken your kids to Disney World? Ever been to the Grand Canyon? Hell, ever stepped foot out of this town?”
Larry thought for a moment and then admitted he hadn’t.
“Ever known anyone who left this place?” the mayor pressed.
Again Larry thought, and again he drew a blank. “Ok, no, I haven’t. I guess life is so perfect here, I just always assumed no one ever wanted to leave.”
“How’s that possible, Larry? How’s it possible that no one’s ever left? And how’s it possible that no one’s even had a conversation about it? Before now, you and Anne ever talked about leavin’ Bayberry Cove? Ever mentioned a vacation to anyone? Ever had the smallest desire to get the hell away from here for an afternoon?”
Larry paused and thought for another agonizingly slow minute, but nothing came to mind. “Ok, I'll play the game. If what you're saying is true, then how is that possible, Sam? How is it possible that no one leaves, and how is it possible that no one even thinks about leaving?”
Sam looked down at the elk and then back to Larry. He started to speak, but instead, nervously swiveled his head to make sure no one could overhear their next move. "We need to go visit someone," he finally whispered.
The sheriff’s eyes were panicky. “What the hell is going on here, Sam?”
