Secrets of Goth Mountain

by Gary J. Davies

CHAPTER 15

  ARTISTIC LICENSE

  “Who the hell are you?” the old man asked. His ancient looking two barrel twelve-gage shotgun, held in shaky hands, was pointed more or less at Johnny Goth. Johnny was beginning to question the wisdom of openly approaching the two old men.

  “You ain’t nobody from Lathem, young fella,” the old man continued. If’n you’re that Dark fella you best tell us right now what you done with Dooley.”

  “I’m not Dark, I’m Johnny Goth. Dark has red eyes and sharp teeth. I’m looking for Dooley myself, to get him back from Dark.”

  “According to Sheriff Barns you and the Indians are in cahoots with Dark,” said the second man.

  “Then Barns is a liar,” replied Johnny.

  “You got that right,” said the first man. Smiling, he lowered his shotgun and stepped forward to shake Johnny’s hand firmly. “I’m Jake Morgan and that other old fart with me is Billy Wilson. You’re the hero from the library, along with Dooley and Two Bears. So you‘re looking for Dooley too?”

  “And a friend that was with him when he was taken. A little hairy man with a face like a goat.”

  “You mean Ned?” asked Jake, whose jaw had dropped in surprise. “Dark took Ned too?”

  Johnny concealed his own surprise. “It looks that way.”

  “Damn!” exclaimed Billy. “Anyone that could take out the Larkin brothers, Dooley and Ned is one really nasty son-of-a-bitch.”

  “Which is why you men shouldn’t be out here. For your own safety, you should go back to town.” Johnny estimated they were each between sixty-five and seventy. He could picture these men sitting in rocking chairs watching grass grow or playing checkers, but he couldn’t imagine them going head-to-head with Dark.

  “No damn way,” said Jake. “It’s Dooley Simple we’re talking about. If it were any of us in trouble, Dooley would be out here looking for us, come hell or high water.”

  “Listen Johnny, we ain’t dumb,” explained Billy, “and we’re damn near scared shitless. But it’s Dooley Simple that’s in trouble! Dooley! That lad is the best of the best. Besides, no matter how nasty Dark is, he can’t stop all of us.”

  “All of you? How many are you?”

  “Ninety seven, at last count, doing this part of the operation,” said Billy. He pointed at a small radio on his belt. “Half of us are fellow members of Artistic License from up and down the coast. We got in touch with the Artistic License President, Janet Logan, and she’s setting up busses to bring more of us up here from all over. Then there are lots of others of us that are just friends of Dooley’s from town. But there’s seven of us we ain’t heard from for a while. We’re supposed to radio each other every half hour, and use cell phones for the far folks.”

  “Where were they? The ones that don’t respond to your calls anymore?”

  “Towards town just a bit, one group three miles West, and the other four miles West of here,” said Jake. “Me and Billy are the furthest East from town. Nobody else figured Dark would get out this far this fast, not at first. By now we’ve convinced the others that they got that one dead wrong. There’s forty more of us headed up this way right now. Half of us are going to focus within five miles of here, including all the way to your place, Goth. Most are going to keep an eye on Fenster’s loggers. Janet’s folk will be focusing on stopping the loggers too, when they all get here. Artistic License folks don’t take kindly to cutting down old trees.”

  “What brought you to this particular place?”

  “We saw the tire tracks,” said Billy. He pointed towards the road. “Someone recently drove back here a ways. Pickup or SUV, we figure. We been around here for half an hour and ain’t found anything else though. Truck tracks were probably a hunter or hiker. Too far from town to be horny teens.”

  “No, you were right,” said Johnny. “Dark has been here more than once. I’m following his footprints now.”

  “No shit?” exclaimed Jake. “Foot prints? What foot prints?”

  Johnny pointed out a few of the more obvious tracks. The tracks leading away from the road towards the edge of the valley were deep, as though Dark was carrying more than himself. Claws were apparent with some of them. “Dark is usually in werewolf form,” he explained.

  “Shit!” exclaimed Jake. “A shape-shifting, evil son of-a-bitch!”

  “He can shift between man and werewolf forms at will. Since you insist on not leaving you can stay with me for a bit while I look for Dooley and Ned, but stay behind me and be as quiet as you can. And follow my directions.”

  The two oldsters looked at each other and shrugged. “OK kid, you’re the boss,” agreed Jake.

  Johnny continued following Dark’s trail towards the valley wall at a slower pace, again frequently pausing to open his senses to everything around him. As instructed, Jake and Billy walked quietly behind him, pausing and then continuing when hand-signaled by Johnny to do so. The terrain was rugged, becoming hillier as they went, and Johnny was impressed by Jake and Billy. Whenever he checked on them they were slightly winded, but clearly game for more. He concluded that they must do much more than play checkers in their spare time.

  At last they reached the sheer hundred-meter high cliffs that defined the valley edge. Dark’s tracks led to the cliffs and ended.

  “You two might want to wait here,” said Johnny, before he started climbing. Jake and Billy watched with slack-jawed amazement from the cliff bottom as Johnny scrambled up the rock-face with impossible ease and speed.

  Thirty meters up he suddenly stopped. “Get back from the cliff,” he warned the oldsters. He pulled a loose rock from the cliff-face and scrambled to one side to avoid the small rock-slide that resulted.

  When the dust cleared, a small cave opening was revealed, into which Johnny disappeared. When he came out a short time later, he was carrying someone folded over his shoulders - a slim, tall someone.

  “Son-of-a-bitch!” exclaimed Jake. “He got him! It’s Dooley!”

  More slowly than he had ascended, Johnny climbed down the cliff, with Dooley’s limp arm and leg belted together and around his neck.

  “My God, is he alive?” asked Billy, as Johnny at last gently lay Dooley on the blanket Billy had put on the ground. The gangly young man was dirty, bloody, bruised and unconscious, and his clothes were torn and soiled.

  “Barely,” answered Johnny. “If he comes to, try to give him a little water.”

  “Should I call for help?” asked Jake, radio in hand.

  “No. Don’t trust anyone. Besides, Dark might have one of your radios from your missing members. We’ll take Dooley to my place and fix him up.” With that, Johnny rapidly climbed up the cliff again.

  By the time Johnny returned with Ned’s limp little form, Dooley’s eyes were open. “Knowed you’d come for us, Johnny,” he mumbled weakly, “I knowed it. Is Ned OK?”

  “He’s hurt really bad, Dooley.” Johnny placed a hand on the little guy’s hairy forehead, which, unseen by the others, contained his father’s watch. For several minutes he watched as Ned gained strength, until at last he was sure that he could be moved. “I will carry Dooley, if you two Artistic fellas can carry Ned. Can you drive us all to Goth Mountain?”

  “Sure,” said Jake. “Hey, did you know that Ned’s got goat feet and horns?”

  Johnny shrugged. “You guys got something against goat men?”

  “Not a damn thing,” said Billy, as he picked up Ned. “Explains a lot, it does.”

  In a few minutes they were all piling into Jake’s large SUV, with Dooley and Ned lying in the back. The SUV was painted in dots, squares and triangles that were all the colors of the rainbow. Johnny wasn’t surprised to see an Artistic License sign above the rear state plate. Despite the urgency of the situation Johnny stood outside the SUV for a full minute, looking around. He had a strong feeling that they were being watched, but he couldn’t locate the source. Finally he climbed into the vehicle. He needed to get Ned and Dooley to the Mountain and to get everyone e
lse to the relative safety of the cabin.

  “What’s bothering you Johnny?” asked a smiling Billy. “We have them both, alive! Wham, bam, licitly-split!”

  “That’s what bothers me,” replied Johnny. “It was too easy.”

  “Oh hell yeah,” said Billy. “Easy as walking up a cliff-side.”

  On the rim of the cliff above them, too far away for Johnny to sense him clearly, Dark smiled as he watched them leave. Then he jumped off the cliff, dropping nearly a hundred meters. He was in werewolf form by the time he hit the ground.

  He examined Johnny’s footprints and smiled even wider. His one all-consuming passion was in devouring life, and the traces of aura that Johnny had left with his footprints indicated a life force that had grown even stronger since their previous encounter. Something had charged up the young human with life-forces, something on Goth Mountain. He would have to find out what it was before he consumed Johnny Goth. Could it be the thing that he sought for many centuries? Increasingly, he felt that it had to be. The presence of the shape-shifter, a shaman, and a human with powers all added up to what he sought. Following the SUV, he loped wolf-like towards the Mountain.