The Hunger's Howl

by A. D. Popovich

  The gunshots stopped. There were no hordes in her viewfinder. She figured the new arrivals had refused to comply with the guards’ demands. “Twi, it’s safe now. Why don’t you take a nap under the table,” Scarlett said, pulling out the blanket. The child looked drained. Maybe it was all the carbs or finally having a full stomach. Scarlett had only eaten half the bacon, saving the rest for tomorrow.

  They didn’t have enough valuables to buy food for the rest of the trip, much less the outrageous $100,000 admittance fee. Sheena was still stuck there. How long would it take Scarlett to earn enough gold, provided she could get a job? Scarlett wasn’t so sure her new plan was a good idea. She waited anxiously for Sheena to return so they could talk it over. Meanwhile, She busied herself with the details, while she hummed Christmas carols in the background of her mind. So far, there hadn’t been any probing. Perhaps, all these people’s thoughts had scrambled the Ancient Bloodlines’ connection.

  Finally, Sheena returned with a sandbag of baked bread.

  “Will you get in trouble for taking it?” Scarlett worried.

  “Hell no. This is a day’s pay. Everyone’s a bum today. The wagon train left with all the gold.”

  “So now what?”

  “Another day—another dollar. And wait for another caravan of suckers to give us their moolah. For now, we’ll make do with stone soup. I’ll show you how it’s done. See that group. They’ve got a shitload of potatoes. I bet they’re sure sick and tired of eating potatoes. Watch and learn. I’ll trade bread for potatoes. See that group? That’s the guy who does the barbecuing. I’ll get us two skewers of meat. Don’t worry,” she winked at Twila, “I heard you’re an official member of PETA. See that jerko over there with the funky top hat. I’ll get a canned good or two out of him. You just have to be all flirty-like, make them think they’re getting the better deal, and maybe a little something else.”

  “You lawyer types are all the same.” Scarlett smiled at Sheena’s genius.

  “Well, it’s not getting us to Paris, but it might get us to Boom Town one day.”

  “Hmm, before you go, I wanted to go over an idea. The guy who sells the canned goods; do you know him?”

  “Yeah, Billy Bob. You’ve got to watch him,” Sheena warned.

  “He gave me twenty cans for a pair of sunglasses.”

  “Not bad for a newbie. But, you could have gotten twenty-five to thirty for sunglasses.”

  “You think? I know where I can get a case of sunglasses and baseball caps.”

  “Now you’re talking. I knew you had brains. So, you’re taking a trip. Is it nearby?” Sheena asked.

  “Our horse looks rested. I could do it in two days, roundtrip.”

  “You’d better leave before daylight. You don’t want anyone following you. I’ll help you get out of here. I heard the guards talking. Something’s definitely up. People are getting skittish, packing up and leaving. See, there goes another group.”

  “I only see two guards?” Scarlett said. “There were five earlier.”

  “I don’t like it. Could be another pop-up town taking away our customers,” Sheena said, eyeing the perimeter.

  They enjoyed a filling dinner of bread, baked potatoes, corn, and barbecued buffalo. Scarlett had given Twila her potato since she wouldn’t touch the meat. They only engaged in idle small talk, for as much as she wanted to trust Sheena, she would never completely trust anyone again. Not after everything she’d been through. After dinner she would claim her saddle, telling Jones she might need it for a trade. They were leaving before sunrise.

  Chapter 23

  The disappearing March sky threatened to unleash its veil of darkness before Scarlett and Twila reached the deserted gas station southwest of Last Chance. She hadn’t taken the camping gear or the ALICE pack, only the saddle bag Sheena had lent her, which stored the empty packs to haul the glasses and caps. She figured they could tough it out for one night without a sleeping bag if they slept in the office.

  Willow wasn’t limping. She definitely had to thank Jones, maybe let him pick out a ball cap and glasses. Unfortunately, the mare’s gait was shockingly slower than she had expected. Their devoted mare didn’t have much spunk left. Willow abruptly stopped as if verifying her thoughts. Shit. We can’t stay the night in the desert without a tent.

  Scarlett quieted her mind, willing her inner gaze to show her the gas station. A boarded-up building entombed in sand emerged beneath closed eyelids. It wasn’t far off. The dusk-coated sky hinted they were running out of time. Feeling guilty, she urged on the spent mare.

  “Willow wants to rest,” Twila said passionately.

  “We must get there before dark.” Scarlett didn’t want to scare the child. However, something about the image rattled her nerves, something lingering at the edge of her vision. If Willow wasn’t exhausted, she’d turn around and go back to Last Chance as fast as the mare could gallop. But, it was too late.

  Twila leaned forward onto the mare’s mane seemingly communicating with the horse without words, something Scarlett still found baffling. With one wrist around the reins, Scarlett sifted through the small pack draped around her shoulders until she found the baggie of cold baked potatoes. They rode and ate all the while pushing back the unreasonable fear that ate at her nerves.

  Out of need for conversation, Scarlett half-jokingly asked, “What did Willow say?” Hoping for Twila’s amusing imagination to keep her distracted from her churning solar plexus.

  “She’s scared,” Twila said in a faraway voice.

  Scarlett yanked back on the reins. They jolted to a halt. Terror leached into her veins. A terror of monsters. Had she just tuned into Willow’s thoughts? The mounting tension had her questioning her trip. The constant chatter at Last Chance had dulled her intuition somewhat. Or, perhaps she had automatically tuned-out her intuition for her own livelihood. Now I need it. All those whispering thoughts. Intuition.

  The golden sunset’s evening rays captured the tears rolling down Twila’s cheeks. Scarlett hugged Twila between her arms. “Tell Willow I love her. I’ll give her a long break when we get back,” Scarlett said in as cheery of a voice as she could fake.

  “She’s scared—for us!” Twila exclaimed.

  Scarlett winced at the same time Willow kicked up her hind legs. Willow’s back rippled uncontrollably with waves of energy. Something was wrong. She sensed the fear in the mare, absorbed it. It was darkness.

  She handed the reins to Twila and then grabbed the binoculars dangling from her neck to study the horizon. In the golden twilight of the fading sun, she made out the abandoned gas station. A howling off in the distance had Willow prancing about nervously.

  “I want you to practice riding Willow by yourself.” Scarlett slipped off the mare. “Remember what I taught you?” Funny, Scarlett really didn’t know a thing about horseback riding. Willow basically did all the work. Willow must read the way I move my body, shift my thighs and arms.

  With Twila at the reins, Scarlett tied the backpack to the saddlebag for better agility. With the 9mm in her hand and two extra clips of ammo, thanks to Sheena, she was ready for trouble. The howling continued. It didn’t sound like coyotes; she was familiar with their annoying yipping. Wolves? Nevertheless, half-starved wolves or coyotes were on the prowl. She couldn’t count on the already spent mare to outrun a wild pack of animals. She needed to be ready.

  The rising moon highlighted the gas station’s metal roof. Scarlett led the mare to the gas station’s back entrance. “Stay on Willow.” Scarlett flicked on the flashlight. “I’ll make sure it’s safe inside.” She loathed walking into dark buildings, especially at night.

  “It’s not safe!” Twila shrieked.

  “We can’t stay outside all night,” Scarlett said, swallowing her fear. The howling closed in on them, sending shivers up her arms.

  Scarlett handed the tire iron to Twila. “If I don’t—”

  Twila threw the tire iron to the ground. The harsh reality of it all was she’d been b
abying Twila for far too long. No time for a tantrum. Willow pranced about like she was walking on hot coals. There was no other place to go.

  “If I don’t come out in a few minutes, tell Willow to take you to Last Chance. Promise me!” Scarlett demanded.

  “You tell her!”

  Scarlett ignored her. With gun in one hand and flashlight in the other, Scarlett kicked opened the partially opened door. Someone had been there since they had, for she had closed the door securely. A rank odor flooded her nostrils. It told her all she needed to know. She cocked the gun a second before a mini-horde lurched out the door, stumbling over each other, falling at her feet in their rush for dinner. Willing in a blast of calmness to steady her nerves, she let off seven rounds, one in each of their heads. It was all she needed to stop each one of the flesh-molted-covered creepers in their tracks. Sickening-excitable groans warned there were more inside, more than she could handle with Twila to protect. She slammed the door shut and rammed a fully-loaded clip into the 9mm. Ready.

  A shrilling scream had Scarlett dashing back to Twila. Twila stood next to Willow in the nearly full moon’s light, screaming like a demonic-possessed child. Willow took off, bucking. She darted the LED flashlight around searching for danger. Is something out there? She didn’t see anything. The child was overly sensitive when it came to killing creepers. It wasn’t unusual for a bout of hysteria to follow when Scarlett disposed of them.

  She whisked Twila into her arms, cradling and rocking her, trying to soothe her. “Everything’s fine,” Scarlett promised.

  The ominous howls were louder. Closer. And Willow had stranded them. In the desert. At night. Thrashing sounds continued. How many creepers were still inside? She could open the door and wait for the rest of the horde to meander out, picking them off one by one. No, this horde was remarkably motivated. Eager. What if she ran out of ammo? What if she missed? It was too risky with Twila. If she was bitten, she couldn’t save Twila. If Twila was bitten, then what was the flipping point of it all? The only thing to do was wait and de-activate the rest of the horde at dawn. She’d stay awake all night with her back against the door and Twila in her arms. Ready.

  Amidst the horrific howling, Willow’s wailful whinnies added to the beastly ballad. Scarlett tried her inner vision. Dark matter closed in, swallowing them into a cosmic void of nothingness. The ominous blackbirds swarmed. Their red-inflamed eyes singed her closed lids until she could no longer hold the wicked vision.

  “Ask the Silver Lady for help?” Scarlett garbled as paralysis crept into her limbs.

  “We're not supposed to be here,” Twila whispered.

  Scarlett reached deep into her core and shook free of the dark energy smothering her. “Hide now!” The words thunder-clapped her ears.

  “She’ll try to send help,” Twila finally gasped between frantic breaths.

  Scarlett shined the light around again. What is that? A moving mass of darkness. It was hard to tell. Still too far away. She shined the light around the perimeter, pushing back the hysterics invading her pulse. She noticed a metal ladder built into the side of the building leading to the roof. She flashed the light at the box-like structure on the roof, maybe an air conditioner or a furnace. There might be room for them.

  The dark mass was closer, close enough for the flashlight to catch the reflection of countless pinpoint lights floating like fireflies. But this was the desert. No fireflies. The rankish odor—

  “A horde!” She grabbed Twila and made a run for the ladder.

  “Climb! I’ll be right behind you.”

  “We can’t leave Willow,” Twila screeched.

  “Now! Or we’re dead!” The words were far too harsh for any child.

  “Willow—” Twila belted out into the darkness.

  Scarlett slipped the flashlight inside her vest and practically shoved Twila up the ladder in a half-panicked state, the horrific stench already gagging her. What? Her foot was stuck. She tried shaking it. A wave of fear surged through her when she realized a creeper had hold of her left foot. She lost her grip, hanging by one hand, swinging. And then, the most deadly sound of all—the clanging of her gun bouncing down the ladder’s metal rungs. It scared her more than the creeper.

  In her fury of kicks and twists, it refused to let go. She swung sideways and kicked it free with her other foot. Its vile hissing morphed into a low unearthly moan when it crashed to the ground. Twila helped her over the edge of the flat narrow area beside the air conditioner or furnace unit. She leaned back heavily against the metal unit, glancing at Twila while catching her breath. “Stay calm,” a voice chanted.

  Scarlett peered over the roof’s ledge. She wanted to know what the hell type of creeper had nearly nailed her. Shining the light was a stupid idea. She knew it. But she had too. An instant later, she saw it. It looked up with hellish neon eyes burning into hers. She felt its anger. Felt its hunger. It lurched to its feet swaying in the night, hissing and howling.

  The rest of the horde caught up and then gathered around it. Do creepers have leaders? An absurd thought. The horde huddled together. The howling stopped. What on earth are they doing? As if they heard her thoughts, they turned around, hissing. The tallest one, the one she had kicked down, nearly flung itself to the ladder as if magnetized.

  Scarlett struggled with sheer terror when it looked at its hands and wiggled its fingers, one by one. Its hands gripped the ladder. It pulled itself up the ladder using only its hands.

  “Oh no, you’re not!” Scarlett shouted. Creepers can’t climb, they can barely walk.

  The horde trampled over her gun. The tire iron was still on the ground where Twila had thrown it. She needed a weapon. In her terror-stricken moment, she forgot how to think. Their darkness consumed her mind. The creepers’ hunger-lust and hatred inundated her. Knowing the source of the evil energy made it easier to fight. For she had free will, and creepers were ruled by their insatiable hunger.

  Weapon! She screamed internally. Knife! The answer flashed instantly. She always carried a knife, strapped around her pant leg, thanks to Dean. Why hadn’t she thought of it earlier? Because she hated using it. Killing creepers with a knife was the most nauseating, disgusting thing.

  With shaking fingers, she unsnapped the sheath and drew the knife. She shined the light over the edge and waited for its fingers to reach the top. But that’s not what had her worried. No. Below him, more creepers had grabbed onto the railing. All she could do was wait.

  Two fleshless hands reached over the edge, grasping for her. She stared in utter disbelief. She stopped thinking and started hacking, hacking away at its bony fingers. The flashlight lay on the roof illuming each hack. Its hissing head bobbled about. One more hack and it wouldn’t have any hands. Done! It hooked its forearms over the ledge of the roof, dangling and hissing. They stared at each other. Her head felt like it was about to implode. Probing! Instantly, she shot up a brick wall in her mind. A wall between them. She felt her will returning. She slammed her foot into its face. With a stupefied expression, it fell onto the creepers below, starting a monstrous chain reaction.

  The other creepers seemed startled by its fall. They juddered around the leader-creeper and then up at her with mournful howls. The leader finally began wriggling on the ground. It jumped to its feet spontaneously. It looked at his handless arms, holding them up for all its followers to see. Then it looked up at her—hissing. Accusing her!

  It hadn’t been de-activated, but it certainly wouldn’t be climbing ladders anytime soon. Unless it suddenly grew a new set of hands. Paranoia at its worst. She shrugged it back. The rest of the horde shambled around and didn’t attempt the ladder. Jeez Louise, she couldn’t stomach whacking off a hundred-something pair of hands. Still, she was dead set on doing whatever it took to save Twila. No matter what . . .

  Oh, Twila. She hoped she hadn’t watched the whole thing. She turned around to find the girl staring blankly at the moon. “Are you all right, sweetie?” Scarlett finally asked.

  �
�They hate you!” Twila seethed through clenched teeth.

  Scarlett was taken aback by her anger. “Who hates me?”

  “They do—” Twila’s words drifted into the darkness, chilling Scarlett’s heart.

  She must be talking about the creepers. The child often said baffling things during a crisis. Scarlett stifled silent tears, and they held each other. She sang softly in Twila’s ear, drowning the howling. Their howls were different than the usual groans, gurgles, and growls of the California creepers. They were definitely a more aggressive breed. Perhaps the flu strain had been different in this area.

  Now what? No gun. No food. Just a flashlight, hunting knife, binoculars, compass, and the canteen around her neck. And whatever items that were in her pockets. “Believe . . .” She focused on comforting Twila, willing her breathing to return to normal. She closed her eyes while Twila slept in her arms, allowing her to focus on a plan.

  ***

  Scarlett must have fallen asleep at some point, though it seemed impossible with their endless howling holding the night hostage. She peeked over the edge of the building with the sun already midway up the morning sky. She had missed the creeper’s early morning sluggish state, or perhaps this breed was different. A new rage of howls threatened. The restless horde paced around the building. She had a strange notion they wanted to free the creepers trapped inside.

  “I’m hungry.” The weak voice from behind reminded her of something she hadn’t wanted to be reminded of. Willow had run off with the pack of food strapped to the saddle. Scarlett had a lollypop in her jacket pocket and a slice of bacon she’d saved from Last Chance.

  Scarlett divided the slice of bacon in half. “You have to eat,” Scarlett said sternly.