Hunger on the Chisholm Trail

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Hunger on the Chisholm Trail Page 12

by M Ennenbach


  “It wasn’t one of us, was it?”

  There were only fourteen people, thirteen now Mikhail corrected himself, that lived in the small town. Village, really. Community if he were being honest. There was another thirty or so that lived outside of the town on farmsteads. After the town was searched, he would need to ride out and check on them. After he knew Jia-Li was safe.

  “I doubt it. Whatever did it was not human. It was pure evil.” He filled Robert in on the details. The postal clerk’s hands trembled as he listened. He was another former soldier and had seen his share of atrocities. But enemy combatants were one thing. A lady everyone had dealings with was another completely.

  “I have my shotgun and rifle ready as always. Let me gather some ammo and my pistols and I’ll be there shortly.”

  “I thank you kindly, Robert. Karl will be leading us. He has the most experience in these affairs. Consider him lawfully deputized. I need to check on River and Hasse now, but I’ll be there in a bit.”

  “They ain’t there, sheriff. I heard an awful commotion last night carry through the dark. Then I heard the sound of hooves headed out. By the time I had gotten up and peeked out the window, there was a cloud of dust headed West. I suspect toward the tribes.”

  Mikhail frowned. What could have been so pressing as to send them out in the middle of the night? He didn’t believe the words, but Teddy’s admonitions echoed in his head. No. There was no chance of that. But it was mighty peculiar.

  “You ready, Sheriff?” Robert stood with his guns at the door.

  “Let’s get this over with.”

  ***

  Josiah and Teddy walked with a purpose into the church as if prepared to rain down judgment on any creature that dared accost them or their town. Once inside, all pretense went out the window.

  “Those God damned savages done it!” Teddy yelled.

  Josiah nodded sagely. “They are a scourge upon the land. But you cannot convince the idiots that live here of their evil intent. They are so blinded by the falsehoods they cannot see what is so clearly in front of them. They will see the truth of it.”

  “Sheriff wants us to head to the jail and meet up with that Beck character. I don’t trust him. Not one bit. He stinks of the big cities. Highfalutin know-it-alls, the whole bunch of them.”

  “What the Sheriff wants and what God wants are two different things. Come on, Teddy, the Lord willed it so that I have a bottle stashed away in the back. Perhaps a sip or two will calm our moods. The rest can wait.”

  Teddy licked his lips and nodded. There was not a time he didn’t think a nip or two was the best suggestion. He followed Josiah to the pulpit and made note of the loose board at the bottom. Josiah lifted out a half full bottle of rye and held it out to Teddy who tried not to seem too eager. He pulled the cork with his teeth and took a moderate drink before passing back.

  “Dear Jesus, I beseech thee to smite down the Savages that have slain poor Tracey Wilson and returned her to your embrace. Protect the foolhardy men of this small town as well in their fruitless search for demons. Open their eyes to the true evil. In your name we pray and give thanks. Amen.”

  Teddy echoed the amen. But he kept waiting for Josiah to take a drink and pass it back. Finally, Josiah took a drink but he kept the bottle. Teddy seethed as he watched the amber liquid in the bottle. He didn’t want to hear another speech. He wanted another sip.

  “The Lord will provide for us, dear Teddy. We are the only members of this flock that truly do His work. We shall be repaid in heaven with vast rewards!”

  Teddy stared at the bottle, hoping to encourage him to drink instead of talk. Then he saw something drip down onto the sleeve of Josiah’s jacket. Rain? No. The sky was clear when they walked in, he remembered. Another drop hit the preacher’s jacket. This time it splashed a bit on to the pulpit. Teddy blinked his eyes as he looked at it. It almost seemed red in the dim light streaming through the dusty windows.

  “Yes, my friend, the Lord shall bring is into his bosom as heroes and true believers. You mark my words! When we die, our lives will just have begun!”

  Another drop splashed and Josiah at last noticed. He touched his sleeve and looked at his finger in bewilderment. Then he looked at Teddy who was staring up at the rafters with a slack jaw and pale face. Then the smell hit him and he moved to cover his mouth from the rancid odor. He looked up as well and saw the Devil with gray skin crouched on the bare wood grinning down at them. In its hands was a half-eaten . . . was that a dog? The thing just smiled down at them. Then it dropped the grisly snack and fell silently onto its feet in front of them.

  Teddy snatched the bottle from Josiah’s hand and took a long gulp, draining a quarter of the bottle as Josiah just sputtered. The thing walked toward them, still grinning wide with blood flecked teeth and dead, black eyes. Josiah made the mark of the cross to ward off evil as Teddy drained the remains of the rye.

  It leaned forward and snarled, “Pleeeeease coooooooome untoooooooo meeeeeeeee.”

  Teddy threw the bottle and the creature snatched it out of the air and brought it down against the pulpit with a shattering sound. Josiah opened his mouth to yell but was cut off as the broken bottle was thrust into his throat. All that came out was a wet gurgle. Teddy made a move to run as Josiah clutched the mouth of the bottle. Blood poured out in gouts from the makeshift spout. The creature grabbed Josiah by the right arm and wrenched his arm off of his body and slammed it into Teddy’s back midstride with enough force to knock him off of his feet. Josiah stared with no comprehension that he was dead for a long moment before slumping to the floor in a pool of his own blood.

  Teddy got to his knees as the monster landed on his back. The breath left his body at the jarring impact and he wheezed as he felt ribs crack. The long gray claws raked down his back, all the way down to the bone. He would have screamed if he could draw enough breath. The world took on a red tinge as agony assaulted his brain and he felt consciousness begin to slip away. Then the evil incarnate reached into the bloody, tattered flesh and gripped his spine and ripped it out with a grunt of exertion and triumph. It held it up to its snarling lips and ran a long blackish tongue across the vertebrae, savoring the taste of spinal fluid and blood.

  “Soooooooooooooon, Haaaaaaaaaaaaseeeeeeeee eeee”

  ***

  River stood, tension and fear barely concealed. He was a compressed spring waiting to fly into a fit of rage. Hasse Ola lay on the ground before the great fire. His every muscle rigid, white-lipped with a low moan sounding through clenched teeth.

  “We must perform the ceremony this evening.” All eyes faced the speaker, the Muscogee chief, as he pleaded with the others.

  “We are not prepared. And the moon is not either.”

  “Damn your excuses!” River shouted. “All you have done for the last decades is talk while we have lost everything! It is time for action. This boy needs you.”

  “Your time with the White Man has cost you your patience. Their ways are not ours, our ways are not theirs.”

  River spat on the ground. “Soon all will be theirs. As you sit and talk of our ways, the world outside changes. You collect dust across your still forms and call it tradition.”

  “Enough. What we propose is dangerous enough for not only the boy, but all of us as well. It is not to be taken lightly. The sacred ceremonies must be honored. If you cannot, then slit his throat instead. If you wish him saved, stop your tongue.”

  River glared at the fire but was quiet.

  Hasse Ola screamed loud into the tent, a primal sound of pain and torment that made even the most stoic of the tribesmen flinch.

  “All in favor of proceeding?”

  Slowly, all raised a hand into the air, even if their faces showed great distaste and doubt.

  “Then tonight we shall perform the rites. Until then, cleanse yourselves. We must be purified for this to work, mind and spirit.”

  ***

  “Where in Hell are the preacher and the drunkard?” Mikhail se
emed beside himself with anger.

  Bradley sat quietly. Cody was looking through one of the journals on the table with wide eyes. It was obvious he had a thousand questions he wanted ask. But the expression on Karl’s face kept him silent. Robert stood ready for action, watching out the window at the empty street.

  “I have nothing. Not a single damned thing.” Karl pushed the last sheaf of paper away in disgust. He slammed his fist onto the table.

  “What do we do?” Mikhail stood with his hand on his revolver.

  “Duncan isn’t all that big, really. Just the strip besides all the farmhouses. I get the feeling the creature is still here, though. If it went to the outskirts, everyone would already be dead. This is a hunter. It relishes fear. The way it posted her head tells me it wants us to be afraid of what it is capable of doing. We split up into two groups and each take one side of the street. Search barns and hay with pitchforks. Jam then into the loose hay, it may be waiting under cover. It may be nocturnal like a vampyre or revenant. Chances are it is resilient and fast. Teeth and claws, most likely.”

  “I’ve seen some tough bastards in my life, ain’t a one of them been able to take buckshot to the belly, though.” Bradley put on a heavy dose of bravado, but all of the men radiated apprehensive fear.

  “Sheriff, you take Robert and Cody. I’ll go with Bradley and his buckshot. Go slow, be careful. It knows we are here but may not be aware we know it is. Most monsters will seek some place they can defend in the presence of men. Our ignorance is against us. We need to hope its ignorance is against it as well.”

  The men walked to the door and stopped as they saw the telltale cloud of dust signal a rider coming into town fast. They watched the rider draw closer and Robert said, “It is River coming back from the tribes, I reckon. Looks to be alone as well.”

  River heeled his horse, both covered in a sheen of sweat and hopped off. “Sheriff, greetings.”

  Mikhail eyed him for a moment before speaking. The words of Teddy ringing in his head. “We had a spell of trouble last night here in town. A cattle driver showed up mighty injured and passed. This morning we found Tracey killed as well. I went to warn you but seems you and Hasse bolted in the middle of the night.”

  “How were they killed?”

  “Chris was attacked and snake bit. Tracey was partially consumed.” Karl watched River’s expression and saw no shock register. “Now, usually when I tell someone another person has been eaten, they look disgusted and upset. You don’t seem to be either. Care to explain?”

  River’s shoulders slumped. “Hasse Ola took sick last night. But not before he spoke.”

  The men of Duncan looked as if they had been struck.

  “The boy ain’t dumb?” Bradley asked in surprise. He looked at the others. “I thought he couldn’t talk. I ain’t heard a word in the two years we’ve been here.”

  Cody shrugged as he studied the horse with an intent expression. Mikhail and Karl just waited for River to continue.

  “He said one word before he passed out.” He stared at the dirt road. Karl felt himself biting his tongue to keep from screaming. “Wendigo.”

  Karl stared at him with a stupefied expression. “Wendigo? Impossible. They don’t ever leave the wilds of Western Canada.”

  River looked at him with a grin devoid of mirth. “There are many myths among the Peoples. As varied as the tribes themselves. The Algonquin legends and the Muscogee tales.”

  Karl nodded but his expression showed frustration. “I’m aware of the different mythos between tribes. I have also spent significant time with the Muscogee Tribe. I never once heard their version of the Wendigo. What are their weaknesses? What drives them? What does this have to do with Hasse Ola?”

  River frowned. “They are not my people. Although I look at Hasse Ola as a younger brother, he is not blood of my blood. I have cared for him these last three years. He was there, three years ago when the Miller Gang was slaughtered on the Chisholm Trail. He had been taken by the outlaw scum and was about to be tortured for information on some sort of treasure they searched for.”

  “What treasure?” Bradley suddenly seemed a lot more interested in the mumbo jumbo he had found himself tuning out.

  River spat. “A myth, nothing more. Something locked away far to the South of here. But the outlaws didn’t know anything about that. They had him strung up to a tree when the Wendigo found them. He killed them all except for Hasse Ola.”

  “Why did it spare the boy?” Mikhail questioned.

  “The Elders never spoke of why he was not killed. They are careful with their words, more so when it is an outsider asking. All they would say is the Wendigo is a hunter driven by hunger and greed.”

  “And its weakness?” Karl prodded.

  “They never said. I never asked. They were convinced it was long dead. Or left far behind as we were pushed farther and farther from home.”

  Guilty looks filled the faces of the men listening. All except for Cody who was still staring at the horse and mumbling to himself.

  “So, we finally know what it is,” Mikhail muttered.

  “But we have no clue how to stop it,” Karl added. “And it is here in town waiting for us. Somewhere.”

  “Are you sticking around to help us, River? Or you got to get back to the tribes?” Mikhail stared at him as he asked. There seemed little doubt as to which he preferred.

  “I fear this evil is threaded into Hasse Ola’s spirit. If we can destroy it, he will be free. I freely lend my help to you.”

  “You’re with Karl, then. No stone left unturned, gentlemen. We find this sonovabitch, we end it, then everything goes back to peaceful times.”

  “Except for Chris and Tracey. And Lord knows how many others that is,” Robert added.

  “We avenge the fallen. And maybe save Hasse Ola, as well. Let’s go.”

  The two groups of men nodded and headed to the opposite sides of the quiet main street. Grim determination drove them as their boots stomped along the hard-packed ground, fear in their bellies as they searched for the Devil hidden somewhere in Duncan.

  ***

  Hours passed as the six men combed through every hay bale and empty room of town. The sun had sat high in the sky when they began, but now cast angry red across the town as they reached the church. It had been fruitless. There was no sign of hide nor hair of any monsters to be found. To the East, the coyotes cried as the darkness grew heavy across half the sky.

  Mikhail looked at Karl and shook his head in disappointment. “Not a damned thing to be found. I’m guessing by the looks on your faces the same holds true for you as well?”

  Karl stared dejectedly at the ground. “Perhaps it got what it wanted and left. All that is left is to tell the drunks in the church and go to Kenzie’s for some grub.”

  Brad spit a fat spray of brown tobacco juice out. “Those two chickenshits never did come out of their little hiding spot to help us. Bet they holed up with some whiskey and waited until we done all the searchin’.”

  “Well let’s roust the lazy sacks of shit and get a well-deserved meal. The ladies are probably plum scared out their minds waiting for us.” Robert blushed as he spoke, and smiles greeted his words as everyone knew exactly which lady he was worried about.

  Mikhail kicked the closed double doors of the church. “Alright you lily-livered bastards. You can come out now!” He kicked the door again. “Probably passed out. Teddy and Josiah both don’t know when to quit drinkin’.”

  Karl reached for the door and then stopped. “You hear that?”

  Everyone grew quiet for a moment and heard a loud buzzing sound. They looked confusedly at each other.

  “Sounds like flies. A whole heap of flies,” Cody said quietly.

  Karl pulled his rifle off of his back and cocked back the hammer and held it ready. He looked at Mikhail and nodded. Mikhail reached forward and grabbed the doorknob. The rest of the men had their weapons drawn and at the ready. Mikhail signaled with three fingers. Two. One. Then
he turned and pushed as he dropped to a knee beneath Karl’s line of sight.

  The stench hit them like a wave and they all cringed. The red light filtered in as Karl made his way slowly in. He froze less than five steps in, then began to aim down the long barrel as he checked the corners of the building. No stranger to monsters, he also sighted along the rafters. He felt nauseated as he looked around the now defiled room. The stench of death and thick clouds of flies filled the air. Bradley stepped in and then quickly turned back and made loud retching noises outside. Karl couldn’t blame him. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a few matches. He struck one across his zipper and the sulphur filled his nostril as the light flared.

  “My God in heaven,” Mikhail muttered.

  Cody stared in disgusted awe at the scene in front of them as Karl lit a couple candles. Teddy was laid out across the large wooden cross in the back of the room. Not laid out precisely. Strewn. His head was impaled on the top of it. Fragments of shattered skull and reddish gray chunks of flesh hung limply. It looked more like a watermelon had been thrust down on the wood than a man’s head. His face was sagging and both eyes had been removed. His tongue hung on his pallid, blood splashed chin. Somehow his torso was affixed to the main post of the cross just beneath the intersecting beam. His ropy intestines hung down to spool onto the floor. Great clouds of flies swarmed around him.

  Bradley remained outside vomiting, the stench too much for him to even consider coming inside to see the cause of it. Mikhail and Karl slowly made their way to the cross with weapons at the ready. Cody couldn’t take his eyes off of the remains. “Where are his arms and legs?” he asked softly. “And where is Josiah?”

  Karl didn’t say a word as he made his way forward. The wooden floor was covered in blood. His boots made an off-putting sucking sound as he walked. Mikhail kept pace just behind him. They searched the pulpit area and behind the desecrated cross.

  Mikhail broke the silence finally. “How could any creature do this?”

  Karl walked behind the cross and let out a low whistle. “It ripped out his spine. Tore it clean out of his body and then jammed the remains on the cross itself. This is the Wendigo taunting us. A show of power and savagery.”

 

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