I put my knife on my belt, and as an afterthought, I put my Colt on as well. I had gotten used to its weight by wearing it around the house whenever I could, and I still practiced drawing it and “point shooting” like my dad had taught me.
I went to the gun locker and looked things over. The shotgun could be useful in hunting for birds, so I left that there. The rifles included the .22, but it had cleared a horde, so it had proven its worth. There was a bolt-action rifle in there with a scope on it, something I had never seen Dad use, along with a very heavy single shot rifle. Tucked in the corner was a small carbine, and as I drew it out, I knew it was love at first sight. It was a lever action rifle; the kind I had been reading about for years. The name on the barrel said ‘Winchester’, and it was chambered in .45 Colt. I nearly let out a little squeal when I saw that, since it shared the same ammo as my Colt.
“Meant to be,” I said, holding that gun. I put it back, but this time in the front.
The three handguns weren’t of much interest to me, since I had my Colt, but there were two I would keep. My father’s police gun—the one he used when he was an officer—and the one he had said belonged to his father, my grandfather, who I had never met. That one was a revolver like mine but different. I’d have to look at it later, not now. The last handgun was one I figured I could trade. It was a boxy looking thing, and a quick scan of the ammo told me I had no bullets for it.
“Meant to be again,” I said. I put the gun in my pocket, and just as I did, Trey came bouncing back into the garage.
“Ready to go, man?” Trey looked at me and suddenly cocked his head to the side for a second.
“What?” I asked, wondering what joke he was going to make. I put a hand on my coat sleeve self-consciously.
“Nothing. You just look like your dad in that coat. Sorry, man.” Trey seemed somewhat embarrassed to have brought it up.
“No worries. Let’s get going before it gets too late,” I said, swinging up onto Judy. She seemed ready to move and was eager to get out. Trey bounded out to Pumpkin, and together we started up the road. We moved the horses at a quick walk, taking them down around the bend where the dark house was. I stared intently at the windows, but nothing looked back at me. Even now I wondered if it all was just part of my imagination.
I was armed with my Colt, and if I knew Trey, he had one of his father’s guns on him. Trey’s father was a trusting man, but his trust only went so far when it came to his son.
The road stretched out before us and we moved along at a decent pace. The horses were happy to be out, and they took to the trail eagerly. As we moved along old Sauk Trail, named after the Saulk Indians who used to live here sometime way before I cared, the world seemed like a relatively normal place. The houses we passed seemed like they were still lived in, and the roads seemed like they were just waiting for the crowds to come home, like they did a long time ago. The church, used once as a refuge from the Trippers, shone brightly in the morning sun, the cold clear air making everything stand out in sharp contrast.
We crested a hill and started working our way down towards the valley. There was a creek that ran through here; the same one that ran behind mine and Trey’s houses. It collected in a wide pond at the bottom of the valley, and then wound its way south, heading off to some larger body of water, I’m sure. The pond was ringed on the north side by huge oak trees, and the southern end was bare except for a small hill that was cleared of trees. At the top of the hill was a trio of wooden crosses. I didn’t know what to make of that.
The bridge that crossed the creek was full of holes, and both Trey and I walked our horses over, making sure they stepped carefully. I sure didn’t want to lose Judy because she broke her leg stepping in a stupid hole.
As we walked toward the other side, Judy suddenly jerked on her reins. Pumpkin reared as well, and it took all of Trey’s strength and mine to calm the horses down.
“Dammit!” Trey yelled, trying to control his horse. “They’re trying to run home!”
“If they run across that bridge, they’ll break their legs for sure,” I said, pulling hard on the reins and trying to drag Judy over to the side of the road. If she bolted from there, at least she would head for decent ground, and I could catch her in the woods.
Trey and I led the horses away from the bridge, and they seemed to calm down the further we left the road. I noticed the change and saw that Trey had noticed it as well.
“Something on the side of the road?” he asked.
I nodded. I also noticed he put his hand on his coat as if to reassure himself that something was still there. If I was a betting man, I’d say that was where Try had put his gun. “We’d better deal with it,” I said. “We have to come this way on the return trip, and those two won’t act any better.”
“Got that right. That horse jumped at a squirrel once and knocked over a whole barrel of water. Flooded the damn basement,” Trey said, throwing a look of disgust at the horse. “But she’s the best runner we got, so she comes with.”
“All right, let’s go look. Maybe it’s just a dead animal,” I said with a confidence I really didn’t feel. I slipped the little loop of leather off the hammer of my Colt, and loosened it in its holster. Trey noticed it and slipped a hand under his coat as well.
When I reached the road, I listened very carefully, trying to see if there was any sound there that wasn’t supposed to be. That was a trick my dad taught me, and in this particular case, it was a trick that was completely useless. The creek babbled enough over a series of rocky steps that it was impossible to hear anything trying to sneak up on us.
Stepping onto the road, I looked back at the horses, and they were both staring at us as we stood on the trail. Their ears were up, and they were flicking their tails nervously. Something was here, all right.
“Josh!” Trey screamed.
Chapter 31
I turned back to the road just in time to see a grey shape leap at me from the woods. All I could see was a blood red mouth filled with fangs hurtling at me at incredible speed.
I tried to step out of the way, and there was a terrific noise that shattered the peace of the valley. A sudden bark rushed past my head, and a huge paw slapped me on the shoulder, knocking me down. I fell back and groped for my gun, surprising myself that it was already in my hand. I thought that was kind of strange.
“Holy shit! Holy shit! Jesus Christ and Holy Shit! Josh, are you okay? Man! I never thought I would ever see anything like that. Damn, that’s a big animal,” Trey said in a rush.
I looked over at my assailant and saw that it was a huge wolf. I scrambled to get back away from it and held my gun out, ready to take a shot at it. I figured Trey had already shot it once, but I wasn’t taking chances. As I got to my feet, I realized Trey was still talking to me.
“How did you do that? I never saw anybody pull a gun that fast,” he said excitedly.
“What are you talking about?” I asked as I looked over the beast. It was at least six feet long and looked like it had fed pretty well the last few weeks. Its fur was glossy, and its flanks were full.
“You shot that wolf as it jumped,” Trey said. “I didn’t even see your hand move. Suddenly you were shooting.”
I looked down at the gun in my hand and saw that it had indeed been fired. I replaced the spent cartridge with a new one, and put the gun back in its holster. I didn’t remember drawing and firing; all I could remember was that mouth full of teeth flying at me from the edge of the woods.
I shrugged as I turned to Trey. “Must have been all that practice I’ve been doing since I’ve got nothing else to do.”
Trey looked at me kind of sideways, like he wasn’t really sure how he was supposed to take my answer. I always got defensive when he did that.
“It’s true!” I said. “Once Judy’s been fed and I’ve checked my lines and cut the wood I need, what else do I have to do besides practice what my dad taught me? No one needs me for anything.” My voice trailed off, and I felt a litt
le lump start in my chest. The last thing I wanted was to have Trey see anything that looked like a tear in my eyes.
Trey nodded. “Yeah, I can see that. Well, for what it’s worth, that practice paid off. “He changed the subject. “We gonna skin him or what? That pelt might be worth something.”
I looked at the sky. “May as well. If we get it to town, we can trade it before we have to tan it,” I said. “You want to skin it or make a travois? No way Pumpkin or Judy is going to haul anything on their backs that smells like wolf or blood. Or both.”
Trey sighed. “I’ll skin it. You’re too quick with skinning and would make a mess of it anyway. Go find some poles.”
I walked carefully into the woods, keeping my hand near my gun. Wolves weren’t usually loners unless they were juveniles, and this one was too big for that. If he wasn’t the alpha, he was darn close to it. The rest of the pack may be close or may be far, it was too difficult to tell. Either way, we’d be gone before they came through again.
I found two saplings that would serve, and quickly cut them down and stripped them of their branches, saving the longer ones. As I walked back towards the horses, I took branches off other trees, trying to make sure they were the same size.
I passed Trey skinning the wolf, and he was having a time getting the skin off the shoulders. I would have offered to help, but he would have refused. We both knew it, so there was no point in bothering. He was actually doing a good job of keeping the blood off himself and the rest of the pelt, so this may turn out easier than I had hoped.
I rigged the travois onto Judy since she was the younger of the two horses. The longer poles I slid through the stirrups and tied them in place with a small piece of rawhide string. I wove the branches into a small mat and tied it to the poles. It wasn’t the best I could do, but since we were only travelling a few more miles, it would get the job done.
Trey had the wolf skinned by the time I was finished, and I helped him load the pelt. It was still a little bloody, but then so was Trey. Pumpkin bucked a little when she smelled the coppery stink on Trey. Judy was not very happy having to haul the wolf skin, and I was waiting for her to let her feelings be known. As we walked, her ears were flat back at me, and I knew it was a matter of time before she tried something.
We walked up what was left of the road and passed out of the small valley. A brick house was on the left side of the road at the top of the hill. Old trees lined the yard, and tall grass waved gently in the breeze. There wasn’t any fence around the yard, yet the house seemed tight and secure.
“Think anyone’s home?” I asked Trey.
“Go look if you want to,” Trey said. “That place looks creepy.”
Trey was right about that. The house set back on its yard like it was waiting for something to enter its lair. The layout of the small ranch was in the shape of an ‘L’, with the door at the intersection. Trees in the back yard leaned over the house casting a gloom over the whole section. Shadows of the branches extended over the front of the building like long fingers waiting for something to come within reach.
“Well, if you’re too scared, I figure I can wait until you’re not here to hold me back,” I said.
“Oh, you think so?” Trey said. He swung his leg around and got off Pumpkin.
Before I could think of a decent retort, Trey was stomping through the yard, walking directly towards the door. He picked up a branch and used it to pound on the door.
“Hey! Creepy house! Anybody home?” Trey banged the door a few more times then threw the branch away. He snapped his fingers then walked back through the yard, grinning at me the whole time.
I nodded, giving Trey his due. I wouldn’t have gone up to the door, and I was the one who had just killed a wolf with a fast draw.
Chapter 32
We rode past the house, leaving the creepiness behind. The road curved to the north, and we passed two homes on the right side of the road. One of them was occupied as evidenced by the triple deep wooden fence around the yard and the three horses who came over to say hello to our mounts. We didn’t stick around, because the smell of the pelt spooked the small herd, and I didn’t want trouble with the owners for raising a ruckus.
The other house was quiet, with the door open wide. I figured there was nothing there even to salvage, so we just kept riding.
“Oh, shit. Company,” Trey said. He pointed to the house we just passed.
Stumbling out of the front door was a Tripper. He was about the same age as my dad and looked like he had seen better days. His clothes were threadbare and full of holes, and he looked like he had cut his face on something a while ago. A long gash ran from his chin to nearly his ear, punctuating the blotches on his face.
He wheezed loudly, and both horses jumped a bit, looking to run away. I led Judy away a bit, keeping her under control, and Trey followed along. The Tripper was working his way towards the road, and pretty soon he was going to be moving a lot faster.
“We gonna run, shoot, what?” Trey asked, looking over his shoulder.
“I want to try something,” I said. “If it doesn’t work, you can shoot him.”
“What do you mean, I can shoot him? I ain’t got no gun,” Trey said.
“Your dad didn’t make you pack a gun?” I asked, not really believing him.
“Not this time. He said I didn’t need it,” Trey replied.
“Man, did he miss the day,” I said, pulling my bow from its scabbard. I dismounted, quickly strung it, and then drew an arrow out. I walked away from the horses and waited for the Tripper. I figured if I missed, I would just shoot him in the head. I didn’t like the thought of using up another bullet, but if it was him or me, I’d rather it be him.
It didn’t take long; he came out of the yard and stumbled through the ditch, trailing bits of his clothing as burrs and weeds pulled at him. I waited for him to steady himself before I drew back on the bow. I wanted to make this first shot count and needed him to be mostly steady.
He came right at me, his face twisting in a mask of rage as his diseased brain saw me as a threat. His hands alternated between claws and fists, and his eyes burned red. If he were to get his hands on me, he’d do his best to tear me apart.
I never gave him the chance. When he was about fifteen yards away I loosed my arrow, sending it into his chest with a meaty thump. The Tripper took three steps towards me then stopped. He still reached out towards me, but he slowly sank to his knees. He tried to take a step, but he wound up falling forward, snapping my arrow underneath him.
I looked back at Trey who was deep in thought about what he had seen. I advanced on the Tripper, pulling my gun and keeping it trained on him. When I was close enough, I reached out with my bow and pushed him over onto his back. My arrow, splintered as it was, stuck out from the man’s chest. There wasn’t much blood, as Trippers never bled much, but I expected more than a small circle around the entry hole.
“Dead?” Trey asked.
“Looks like it,” I said. I took another small rope and looped it around the Tripper’s foot, dragging the dead man into the ditch. Eventually he’ll serve as food for the crows and coyotes as soon as they figure out he’s here. I went back to Judy, unstrung my bow, and remounted.
Trey and I rode on, being careful not to lose our pelt when we went over the rail road tracks that marked the boundary of the town of Frankfort.
As we walked in, Trey and I talked about the Tripper.
“Any thoughts?” I asked.
Trey shook his head. “None that make any sense. I’ve seen Trippers walking around with bullet holes in their chests, same as you.”
“I know,” I said. “And we can’t be the first ones to see this happen.”
“My dad says back in the day people were trying to kill these guys all kind of ways. Somebody had to put some sort of weapon besides a bullet through them,” Trey said.
“I don’t know. It’s just strange.” I said. “It’s like the bullets go through the heart, and it’s all good. B
ut the arrow stays there, messing things up.”
Trey thought about it. “Well, I’ll say this. Until we know for sure, let’s stick with the head shots.”
“Deal.”
We rode through the outskirts of what used to be the town of Frankfort. It was a small town with a good collection of homes. Several of them were reinforced, but it looked like most of them had been abandoned, looted a long time ago. We rode down the main street into town, and as we did we could see signs of violence.
Several homes had their fences breached, and the doors and windows were broken and open. There were dead animals lying about, and we could see dark shapes still lying on the floor where they fell under the Trippers’ teeth and fists.
Trey spoke first. “Not sure I’m liking this much anymore, Josh.”
“It’s fine. We can get rid of this pelt and then head back. Just keep your bow handy,” I said with a confidence I really didn’t feel.
We moved further into town and saw more people. But they were not people who acted like they were residents of the town. These people were going into homes, pulling things out, putting things in carts and wagons, and then moving on to the next house. This was looting on a grand scale, and more than one of them looked at the two of us with more than passing interest.
I could understand that. We were essentially two boys riding very valuable animals. Pumpkin was a good walker, and anyone with an eye could see that Judy was a fine horse.
“Hey, boy! Boy! You on the horse!”
I reined in Judy and looked down at the man who was yelling at me. He was a short man, barely taller than I would have been had I been on the ground, and was wearing dirty clothing. A small cap held back his greasy hair from his face, and his left eyelid twitched when he spoke.
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