The Lurking Season

by Kristopher Rufty

  She was lucky it didn’t go off. Crawling, she went to the gun and scooped it up. She wiped snow off the barrel, hoping it wouldn’t somehow clog the inside and cause it to explode in her hands.

  Don’t be stupid. Would take more than snow to do that.

  Using just her legs, she stood up. She held the gun in front of her. It was hard carrying it with the stock against her shoulder, so she slipped it under her arm.

  She knew this was a bad idea right away. The gun felt awkward in her hands. If she were to shoot it, the barrel would probably fly up and smack her in the face. She adjusted the barrel back into the shallow dip of her shoulder. Felt even worse this way, but she would have to deal with it.

  She walked into the clearing, emerging from the darkness. It was as if a curtain that had blocked her from the loud cries of melancholy and anger were raised. She was hit with a booming spectacle of anguish. Everything was in blaring disorder.

  Haunchies skittered all around. Others had gathered near Warder. She smiled knowing he was dead and she’d done it. Her eyes landed on the screaming woman who was clawing bloody lines in her face.

  Then she saw Heather, facedown in the snow, arms over her head.

  Still alive, thank God.

  Brooke looked to a bloody depression in the snow where Piper should be. He wasn’t there. An imprint of his fallen form was left behind. Gasping, she looked around, her eyes scanning the area. She didn’t spot him.

  A different kind of scream brought her back to the woman she didn’t know. A total of five Haunchies were slashing her midsection, tearing through her shirt and sawing through her skin. Blood sprayed out in waves.

  That they were killing the woman was dumbfounding. She couldn’t believe they were doing it. Never had she seen them harm a female, not when they were so desperately needed.

  A Haunchy climbed up the woman’s front, using her breasts like rungs on a ladder. It stood on their plump slopes as it stabbed her repeatedly in the throat. Each time the tiny blade was wrenched out, it left behind a rent spouting blood. The woman swatted uselessly at her attackers, doing nothing to divert them.

  Brooke shook away the confusion and squeezed the trigger. The shotgun jerked in her hands, slamming her shoulder back. Her throat clucked. It felt as if her brain had bounced in her skull.

  The Haunchy perched on the woman’s breasts exploded into a red cloud of flying appendages. The woman’s head also exploded and a hole appeared in the tree behind her. A jagged stump of neck spurted blood as the body toppled over.

  The Haunchies leaped off her sinking body, landing on their feet. They turned toward Brooke. A moment of recognition was shared among the small group. They released a harmonized snarl.

  “Oh shit,” she muttered. She pulled at the shotgun’s pump and was met with resistance. The gun jerked to the side and slipped from her hands. She caught it before it hit the ground.

  Looking up, she saw the Haunchies rushing at her.

  “No!”

  Heather grabbed one of them and pulled it to her, fighting to maintain its jerking form. She screamed as it wriggled in her hands, slashing at her with its tiny knife. Brooke saw Heather let go and catch it by the legs before it hit the ground. She lifted it above her head and slammed the body down on the ground.

  Its head shattered when it hit.

  As Brooke staggered in reverse, she got the gun back to her shoulder. Holding it tight, she pumped another round in. Her feet tangled together, making her fall. Her rump pounded the ground. Teeth clacked together. Finger yanked back on the trigger. The gun bucked against her shoulder.

  A thump of red appeared in the Haunchy’s front, and mushroomed out its back.

  The remaining Haunchy was splashed in an amassment of blood and innards. Its feet skidded in the murky puddles of blood, and it fell forward, face landing in a crimson spill.

  On her knees, Brooke hurried to where it was starting to get up. She raised the gun in the air and brought the blunt end of the stock down on the back of its skull. She felt it break underneath the weapon. The gun stopped driving when it hit the ground. Brooke felt patters of sticky warmth leave freckles on her face.

  She held on to the gun like a staff, nearly hugging it, her eyes closed. Winded, she opened her eyes and could see the diluting cloud of her breaths. Around her, things seemed to have calmed down, but in the distance she could hear those familiar shrieks and screeches carrying on endlessly. She couldn’t tell if they were heading this way.

  Brooke looked around. She didn’t see Maggie anywhere and wondered where she might be.

  “Are you all right?” she heard Heather say.

  Brooke looked at Heather through the hair hanging in her eyes. “No.”

  “Me neither,” said Heather. She looked at the dead woman. Her lip puckered out like a quivering nub. “Oh, Debbie…”

  Heather knows her.

  Brooke felt guilty that Heather’s friend was dead. It was the gun that finished her off, but the Haunchies had already started it.

  She turned to the dead woman. Not at the squishy stub where her head should be. She saw her feet. There were shoes covering them. She looked down at her own feet. Her toes were tucked under the snow.

  She needed the shoes. If she wanted to keep her feet, she needed to cover them. Hopefully permanent damage hadn’t already been caused.

  Reaching for the shoes, her hands paused just above them. Was she really going to do this? Steal a dead woman’s shoes? Steal a friend of Heather’s shoes?

  I need them more than her.

  Brooke hated the greedy thought, even if it was the truth. Didn’t make it any less wrong, knowing the poor woman no longer had use for the shoes.

  She wondered how Heather would react to her taking them.

  Before she could ask, Heather was already tugging at the shoes. Crying, she removed one and held it out to Brooke without speaking.

  “Sorry,” Brooke muttered.

  “I saw you looking at them,” said Heather

  Feeling like crud, Brooke sat her rump in the snow and took the proffered shoes. Before putting them on, she saw the striped socks underneath. She took those too, without Heather’s consent. “I’m sorry,” she muttered again. “But thank you.”

  Heather sniffled then gave a terse nod.

  Brooke put the socks on her red feet and rolled them up to her knees. She rubbed her fingers under her calf, enjoying the insulated feel of the socks. Next, she put on the shoes. They were her size. She couldn’t believe her good fortune. Then she felt guilty for being so grateful when she reminded herself Heather’s friend had died so she could have them.

  I’ll kill as many of them as I can, for both of us.

  Though it wouldn’t make it right, Brooke felt better for the promise. She stood up. The shoes felt wonderful on her feet. She wiggled her toes, relishing the cramped space around them.

  “Come on,” she said to Heather.

  “Where?”

  She had no clue where to look first, but was sure she’d find Maggie before long. How their reunion would go was a disquieting mystery. “I’m not sure. We need to look around for my friends.”

  The bushes rustled. Brooke clumsily jacked a round into the chamber. She pointed the gun at the bushes, raising it to her shoulder. Her finger was already searching for the trigger.

  “Don’t shoot!” a woman’s voice called.

  Recognizing the voice, Brooke paused. “Wendy?”

  “Yes…you already shot me once. A hit with that gun would kill me for sure.”

  Brooke relaxed, letting the breath she was holding hiss out. “You scared me.”

  Wendy staggered out from behind the bushes. Clumps of snow fell off the rangy twigs and platted on the ground. She walked bent over a bit, her hand caressing a spot under her shoulder. Her fingers were wet with blood.

  �
��Oh shit…” said Brooke.

  Wendy noticed where she was looking. “You should see the other guy.”

  “I’m sorry…I thought you were joking when you said…” Brooke couldn’t finish the words. Her tightening throat cut off her apology.

  Two people I shot.

  “Save the apologies for later. We have to get Gary!”

  Brooke frowned. She had no idea whom Wendy was talking about. “Um…”

  “The boy. My kid.”

  “Your kid?”

  “Yes.”

  Brooke couldn’t believe Wendy was the boy’s mother. She’d only seen him a few times and had never assumed Wendy birthed him. “We’ll get him. I have to find Maggie.”

  “You have fun doing that,” said Wendy. “I’m going to track down Gary.”

  “You won’t be much good on your own, not with your…”

  “Oh this?” She lowered her hand. The wound was a dark black hole with a jagged rim.

  “I said I was sorry.”

  “Well…” Wendy closed her eyes, her lips forming a tight line. It was obvious she was about to say something spiteful but was talking herself out of it. She released a deep breath that made her cheeks flap. “You’re right. Let’s work together.”

  Brooke nodded. “Okay.”

  Wendy looked down at Heather, who hadn’t moved from the spot beside the Haunchy she’d bludgeoned. “What about her?”

  “She’ll be all right.”

  “Just peachy,” mumbled Heather.

  Wendy nodded. “Fine.” She looked at the shotgun. “Got more of those handy?”

  Brooke held the gun up. “I wish. Stole this out of Piper’s truck. The pistol was Heather’s.”

  Heather looked up. “Mine? You found it?”

  Brooke gave her an edited account of how she’d gotten here.

  “Chad’s car is here?” asked Heather.

  “Yes,” she said. “It’s right over there.”

  Heather looked to the woods that separated them from their escape. She bit down her lip. “You drove it?”

  “Well…”

  Heather clumsily got to her feet and went for Brooke. She grabbed the lapels of Piper’s coat and jerked Brooke forward. “You had no right! I was supposed to drive it out of the ditch. He told me to do it.”

  Brooke remembered Chad telling her that. “Calm down!”

  Heather shook her, nearly making her drop the gun. “He wanted me to drive it!”

  Brooke felt Heather being yanked away. Her hands were pried off the coat. Brooke spun to the side and saw it was Wendy who’d grabbed Heather. Wendy slung her and let go. Heather stumbled a few steps.

  “Knock the crazy shit off,” demanded Wendy. “We don’t need this bullshit slowing us down.” Wendy put her hands on her hips. “You hear that?”

  Brooke listened. She heard the shouts in the not-far-off distance, screeches like battle cries.

  “They’re coming.”

  Brooke

  After Brooke’s and Erin’s brief yet awkward introductions, Wendy told Erin to pull her wrists together. How she was bound, she had to do so behind her back.

  “Now shoot the chains,” Wendy told Brooke.

  “Are you insane?” said Brooke. “What if I miss?”

  “I highly suggest that you don’t,” said Wendy.

  “I don’t know if this is a good idea,” said Heather.

  Brooke agreed.

  “Got any other ideas?” asked Wendy. No one offered any. After a moment of silence, Wendy threw her hands up. “That’s that.”

  Erin leaned forward, squeezing her arms together. There was a soft clinking when the cuffs touched. Her nose wrinkled as she bit down on her bottom lip. Brooke figured it was to keep from screaming.

  Brooke took position behind Erin’s back. She shouldered the shotgun, lowering the barrel until the small jutting tip of the sight was on level with the chain. She had it lined up just fine.

  Then her arms started to shake.

  “I can’t do this,” said Brooke.

  “Give me the gun,” said Wendy.

  Brooke was hesitant of handing it over. She was afraid she wouldn’t get it back.

  Relax. We’re in this together now. All of us.

  If any of them were going to live, they had to be a team. And that meant trusting each other. Wendy had been with the Haunchies for a lot longer than Brooke. She, above all others, wanted her freedom back.

  Brooke held the gun out. Wendy took it.

  “Is it cocked?” she asked.

  “Yeah,” said Brooke.

  Wendy checked the safety. “Off. Good.” She leveled the shotgun. From where Brooke was standing, it looked like a clean shot. “Don’t move,” she instructed Erin.

  “Just don’t miss,” said Erin.

  A corner of Wendy’s mouth arched. “I’ll do my best.”

  There was a loud blast when the shotgun fired. The chains snapped before a gaping hole appeared in the ground. Erin shot forward. Gasping with surprise, she brought her hands around. A few inches of chain dangled from the cuffs that had become bracelets. “It worked,” said Erin.

  “Now your legs,” said Wendy. “Put your ankles together.”

  Erin did as instructed.

  “We have to move this along,” said Wendy. “I’m sure they heard the shot.”

  Another blast made Brooke jump and the chains clasping Erin’s feet were no longer. Erin pulled her legs to her and hugged them as if it had been years since she’d seen them.

  Wendy held the shotgun out to Brooke, who took it from her. It felt wonderful having it back in her hands again.

  “Thanks,” said Erin.

  “Sure,” said Wendy.

  Erin worked her arms up and down, as if getting the blood flowing. “What’s the plan now?”

  “We have a car,” said Wendy.

  Erin’s eyes lit up. “That’s fantastic.”

  “It’s Chad’s,” said Heather.

  Erin nodded, though Brooke was sure she had no clue who Heather was talking about.

  “I want to get little Gary first,” said Wendy.

  “Thought you might,” said Erin.

  “You don’t have to come. Go with them to the car. I came back to get you loose because I said I would. And now we need to get going before they come looking to find out what all the noise was about.”

  “Whoa, slow down,” said Erin. “I didn’t say I wasn’t coming with you.”

  Wendy’s lips tightened. “Thanks.”

  Erin sighed. “It’s just that we might have a problem here. On top of the untold others…”

  “What?”

  Erin pointed at her right ankle. The chain hanging from the cuff jingled slightly. Blood was trickling out from under the metal clasp. Even from where she stood, Brooke could see the thick section of torn-back skin. It hung over the cuff like a flesh-colored tongue.

  “How’d that happen?” Wendy asked.

  “I don’t know. I didn’t even notice it until I went to straighten my leg. Hurts like a bastard now, though.”

  As they gathered around Erin, hoots and hollers erupted from all around.

  Goose bumps stippled Brooke’s skin. “Shit,” she said through clenched teeth. “They’re here!”

  All of them turned and saw the mass of Haunchies rushing toward them. Several moved through the trees, springing from branch to branch. Though they were a distance away, they moved quickly. It wouldn’t take them long to get here. Their hoods flapped behind them like flags. They were armed with knives, spears, arrows and hatchets—all weapons they’d custom-built for themselves.

  “They’ll get us for sure,” cried Heather.

  “You guys have to go without me,” said Erin. “My foot is fucked!!”

  Wendy sh
ook her head. “No, you helped me remember who I used to be before becoming a Haunchy fuck doll. You saved me. You deserve to be saved too.”

  “I can’t keep up. It will all be for nothing if my slow ass gets you killed!”

  “Then we split up,” said Wendy.

  “How will that help?” Heather asked through a squeal.

  The whooping was louder. They had to shout to hear each other.

  “One of you takes Erin back to the car, the other sticks with me. We’ll go in two directions. A hurt one should partner with someone who’s not. Deal? One of us will make it out of here eventually.”

  No one disputed Wendy’s plan.

  “Okay,” said Wendy. “I’ll stick with Brooke. Heather, you help Erin here.”

  “We don’t have a weapon,” said Heather.

  “Yes we do,” said Erin. She held up her hands. A few inches of chain hung from underneath, like linked whips.

  Wendy gasped. “I hate to cut it short, but we’ve got to go. Like now!”

  Arrows cut between them, slapping the ground in front of Erin’s feet. The impact threw up snow. Brooke felt things nick her skin.

  “Good luck!” shouted Wendy over the Haunchy yelps. She tugged Brooke close to her and led her away.

  As Brooke stumbled alongside Wendy, she stole a glance over her shoulder. She saw Heather pull Erin to her feet. Holding each other, they ran off through the woods. The chains of Erin’s feet slithered behind her like snakes.

  The Haunchies arrived moments later, splitting into two formations. Each group pursuing a pair of the girls.

  Erin

  Erin crashed onto the ground, knocking the air out of her lungs. Her breasts bashed a thick pack of protruding roots buried in the snow.

  They were in a small thicket of trees, and she’d stepped on one of her ankle chains and tripped herself. Beyond the trees was an old fence that ran alongside the woods, separating them from what lay beyond it. From where Erin was, she could see snow piling on the tops of haphazardly constructed headstones that jutted in myriad angles on the far side of the fence. The snow looked like a river of glass in the dark, giving everything a blue hue.