by J. P. Sloan
“It’s me,” I rasp as loud as I dare. “Open up.”
The door swings open a little, and I shoulder in, keeping my eye on the creatures outside. So much is my focus I nearly miss the aspen stake slicing toward my chest. I lift my forearm and block the attack, the tip of the wood barely touching my shirt.
A woman stares breathlessly at me, her arm stiff, the stake trembling.
We lock eyes for a moment. I’m not entirely sure she wasn’t actually aiming for me.
“She thinks you’re Richterman,” Odell huffs.
I whisper to the woman, “It’s Folger.”
Finally she lowers her stake and exhales sharply.
I take a look around. “Where’s the others?”
“He ran off,” she sobs.
Damn. Can’t work the strategy with one person. “Anyone below?”
Her face stiffens.
“You need someone to draw them in so you can take them down.”
A door opens behind me, and a tall girl steps out.
“I’ll do it,” she says.
The woman throws a finger her direction. “You get back, Lizzy!”
“No, Ma. I want to help!”
I nod for her to join me by the door.
“Try to catch just one at a time. Keep your head low until one of them wanders close. When they see you, run back as far as you can. Then your ma can clean it up.”
I demonstrate immediately, as a cannibal lunges at me from the street. I withdraw, dragging the girl along with me. The creature lurches forward, snapping its jaws.
The woman is slow. Too slow. I have to give the thing a couple kicks in the chest to push it back, though it feels like I’m trying to kick a steer.
I flip my gun back and take aim.
The creature wheezes, spraying saliva across my face. It shivers and falls to the ground, a stake rammed into its back.
I give the woman a measured look before reaching down and jerking the wood free. I toss it back to her.
“No hesitation. Stab, then pull it back. Keep your wood in your hands at all times.” I gesture to the girl. “And don’t let her get bit.”
The woman nods as she wipes tears from her face.
I poke my head out the front and advance to the next building.
The assay office.
I peer through the front window and wave my hand over the glass. One of Scarlow’s men spots me inside and waves me in. I ease through the ruined doorway, stepping over Wendigo corpses. The man and a hidden companion huddle up with me near the door. They’ve been productive. Each of the Wendigo that have infiltrated the building have been dropped, and quickly by the locations of their cadavers. These men were fighters from the start. If only the rest of town had their killer instinct.
“You boys solid?” I ask.
I get a nod from each.
“Anyone bit?”
“Nope.”
“Good.”
I hear another gunshot from the roof, and they urge me back behind the doorway.
One of them whispers, “José’s been dropping them piece by piece.”
“Stupid bastard’s going to run out of silver,” Odell replies.
Two creatures storm through the opening, and immediately Scarlow’s men set upon them, thrusting stakes into their frames. They make short work of the Wendigo, and I straighten up to give them a congratulatory slap on the shoulder, when a third barrels over me. We tumble into the heap the men had just created. With a twist of my hips, I slip a knee between its legs and smash its groin. The fiend grunts and rolls off me.
Before I can train my gun on the thing, one of the men swings his stake at its chest. The creature lifts an arm and takes the wood directly through its hand. With a howl, it twists its wrist and jerks the stake free.
The second man tackles the thing from behind, taking it to the ground. I hear a sharp bark of pain as the two scramble on the floor.
I reach over and grab a free stake and toss it up to the last man not on the floor. He catches the stake and rams it home, killing the creature. I roll over and give the corpse a shove with my boot before standing back up.
The man lying beneath the dead creature grips his shoulder tight, right where it meets the neck. Blood is spreading from beneath his hand.
He struggles to his feet, his hand slipping against the wall, painting a red stripe as he falls again.
His partner and I exchange looks.
“You got bit,” I say more as a statement than a question.
The doomed man holds up his free hand. “I’m okay.”
“No, you’re not.”
“It ain’t deep.”
I take a deep breath.
His companion gives me a nod.
I cock my pistol and raise it to his head.
The dead man’s eyes go wide, and he shakes his head in panic. “Please. No, please.”
My hand trembles. His eyes… Christ, how full of fear they are!
“Odell?” I whisper.
He reaches over and takes control of the Remington. “I got this.”
Odell’s hand steadies the gun.
“I’m sorry,” I add as he pulls the trigger.
Sixth shot.
I reach into my pocket and pull out the last of my bullets to reload.
“That shot’ll bring more,” Scarlow’s man grumbles.
I nod as I reset my cylinder and reach for the stake still gripped in the Wendigo’s hand wound. We hold station by the doorway. Footfalls approach, pounding quick against the porch boards.
We stand ready, backs against the walls, gripping our stakes tight.
But no one enters.
Instead, a husky voice rattles, “Richterman? You come on out and face us!”
Screams from somewhere up the street roll over his words. It sounds like another one of the buildings has been taken.
My compatriot blinks at me.
The Wendigo repeats, “Richterman! We’ll tear this building apart and bury you in it if we have to!”
The door to the basement shelter creaks open, but only I notice.
Only I, for Richterman steps out, a cruel smile painting his lips. He strides over to me with a taunting sneer.
“Is that you, Magner?” he calls out.
A chorus of laughter is his reply.
“Guess not,” he grumbles.
With a gesture to the stairs behind the assayer’s desk, I whisper, “Fall back to the second floor.”
Scarlow’s man shakes his head. “We got a dozen below,” he whispers.
“Shit. Why? You knew they’d be coming for me here.”
He just shrugs.
I press my head back against the wall. They probably figured Richterman’s building would be the safest to hole up in. They were wrong.
“Richterman! Last chance!”
I turn to my partner. “Fall back to the cellar. Hole up there. I’ll draw them away.”
He stares at me.
“Go on, now!”
He hustles away from the door as I spin into doorway and fire a shot at the loudmouth calling me out, dropping him instantly.
I spin back against the wall out of sight of the street and watch as my partner descends the staircase. After some bumbling and a clunk below, I switch my gun to my off-hand and grip my stake tight.
Richterman shoves his hands onto his hips. “Well, that was uncordial.”
Odell steps from behind me. “Do shut up, Lars.”
“Or what, you’ll shoot me again?”
I grumble, “Quiet, both of you,” as I swing out the doorway and try to break free into the darkness outside.
However, the giant Wendigo is lumbering directly in front of the building in the middle of the street. No escape.
I plunge my stake into the chest of the nearest cannibal and bring my pistol up to the face of the next. He halts his approach, eyes large.
I ease back into the assay office.
Richterman cooes, “That went well.”
Odell whistles to me from the second-story landing.
I bolt up the shadow-choked stairs to the second story. I hear footfalls behind me as the cannibals storm the first floor. Hopefully they follow me and don’t go rooting around for flesh down below.
I clear the second-floor landing and slide into Richterman’s office, slamming the door shut behind me. There are no locks on these doors, so this is a very temporary refuge. I take a quick stock of the room and try to shove the desk to block the door. Damn thing’s too heavy. I can’t move it quick enough. I snatch one of the wingback chairs and ram it up against the door latch.
The wood shutters under blows from the hall. I don’t have much time here.
Richterman’s map remains spread over his near wall, the ornate city sketches of the mines bare hints in the dark office.
I rush toward the windows and search the street below. More of the smaller Wendigo stream from the surrounding buildings. The larger one, however, remains outside, clenching and unclenching its long fists.
The door rattles under several blows, and I hear them prying loose the wall boards in the hallway.
“Any thoughts?” I ask Odell.
“Just one,” he responds with a nod to the window.
“Christ.”
I ease the window open and holster my gun. I wrap the bottom of the black lace curtain in my left hand and grip the aspen stake in my right.
The door to the office snaps as a fist plows through the oak. I see hungry eyes glaring at me. Fingers begin to slash through the walls. Their hungry breaths rage all throughout the building.
I hoist my feet out the window, and with a kick, I jump out and swing with the curtain. It jerks me to a halt just a couple feet below the window. I plant my boots against the side of the building and release. The creature below spots me in midair, too late to dodge as I plunge the aspen stake into its chest. It crumples beneath me, cushioning my landing.
I stand up, coughing against the smoke from the brush fire. The air is thick with it, bringing more darkness to the town than the night alone had afforded us.
“He’s outside!” one of the cannibals shouts from the window.
I snatch the stake from the creature’s corpse and brace myself. A Wendigo runs into the street from the front of the office.
A flash of light stabs into the night sky from atop the building as gunshots ring out, and the Wendigo drops.
I look up to the roof to find José aiming low. He lifts his gun to inspect it. I wave for him to jump before the creatures reach the roof, but shadows move behind him.
He gives me a grim look as arms grip his shoulders from behind. He raises his gun to his chin. It dry-clicks as Wendigo claw at his throat. His screams rise over the chorus of carnage all around me.
I sprint across the street for the general store. The door has been torn open already, so I advance carefully. I find two cannibals crouched over some poor victim. They’ve picked the body mostly clean already. No chance this one will rise as one of their number.
I impale the closer of the two easily, then kick the second in the face, sending it flying back against Toomey’s counter. It deflects my first stab with a blood-slick hand, but I crunch its arm under my boot and drive the stake into its heart. After a moment to catch a couple breaths, I recognize the eviscerated corpse before me.
Toomey.
Looks like he died with an ax handle in his fist, trying to defend the store. I wonder what became of the others holed up in the building, and look around to spot the door to his storeroom left ajar. I bustle around the counter and nudge the door open with my toe.
No one tries to stab me, so I proceed inside. Peering through the shadows, I find the shelves wrecked, most of the dry goods spread across the floor. A dusting of baking flour hangs on most everything, splattered in places with crimson droplets.
The back door sits torn open from its hinges. I poke my head out and check left and right. Whoever was left taking refuge inside has either fled or was taken away. I dart between shadows through a couple unfinished houses, taking cover as a cannibal comes sniffing down the lane. I slice out with my stake and land it in the middle of his face. He drops as quickly as if I’d put it in his chest.
More shrieks of a human nature flow from the center of town amid the sound of snapping wood and growling. Another house taken down. A flash erupts somewhere near Holcomb’s shack, and the smoky sky begins to dance with orange light from a building fire. I search left and right for my next move, but find my feet have nailed themselves to the ground. I’ve lost my direction. Only when I spot a hand waving from inside Cheevey’s refortified jailhouse do I find a purpose again.
Odell!
Sprinting over to the jailhouse, I catch a glimpse of a long line of dark red and orange tracing the outline of the western ridge. The fire is pouring smoke into the valley, and my lungs are taxed enough from the sprinting. I pause by the side door to catch my breath and cough out some sludge onto my sleeve.
I check the front of the building before slipping through the door. Instead of Odell, however, I find an old mountain-bearded man behind the door had seen me coming and shoved the door open without a swing of a stake.
“You’re alive?” He coughs with a cocked brow.
“So far. You drop any of those creatures?” I ask, turning a quick circle to inspect the corpse-free floor.
He shakes his head sheepishly before nodding to the clutch of children locked up behind the bars.
“Mostly taking in our chirren.”
I take a quick headcount. He’s squirreled away ten children.
I slap his shoulder. “Whatever you’re doing, keep it up.”
We freeze as a rasping breath huffs away just outside the door. Again, I hold my position alongside the man with the stake, waiting for the interloper.
The street goes quiet, and I can’t tell if the Wendigo’s given up, or if―
A hand slams through the hinge side of the door, gripping my collar. With a mighty tug, the creature jerks me against the door, smashing my jaw into the wood. The brown-bearded man runs his stake through the Wendigo’s arm. It releases me, though my knees buckle as the room spins.
My companion hacks away at the creature’s arm until it withdraws, and we have only a bare second of peace before the door groans on its hinges and with a great rip of wood, tears free of its frame. Another giant creature looms in the doorway, swinging its arm up against the lintel to gain entry.
I shake my head and try to focus on something, anything to fire upon. Vision’s gone double. Bastard gave me a good wallop to the head.
The bearded man backs away from the doorway as the creature slices at him with its long fingers. It misses him and digs into the near wall, gouging long marks into the fresh wood. The children gasp, and a couple begin to weep and wail.
I blink furiously against my addled vision, lifting my gun in the rough direction of the monster, but my bearded companion steps into my way, at least close enough that firing a shot might hit him. I clench my eyes tight and try to right myself onto my knees.
When I open my eyes, I find Odell looming beside me.
He fires a single shot.
The creature backs away a step, lurches forward, and then with a gurgle, falls dead.
“Don’t get us killed,” he grumbles.
“Where were you?”
He shrugs. “It’s getting dark out here.”
“In here, you mean,” I correct as I tap my forehead.
We exchange a meaningful glance. Our time together may be limited.
Mountain Beard looks over to me, his face washing with confusion and exhaustion.
I lean back against the bars, staring at the smoking gun in my hand as the weeping of the children rolls over me.
The dizziness subsides as I reach up and grab a young girl’s hand, holding on to it as much to calm myself as to calm her. More hands reach down through the bars, some onto my shoulders, some gripping for my fingers.
Mountain Bear
d jerks his head to the side and peers out the window.
“Here,” he whispers, tossing a heavy brass key to me before slipping through the ruined doorway.
I pull myself up with a little help from my friends and hear a new whimpering coming from outside. When I see Mountain Beard returning with another tiny child, I realize my purpose. I slip the brass key into the escutcheon and get the bars open in time to usher the child inside. One of the older children scoops him up with tears and lays a finger on his lips to quiet him down.
I look up and around the anchors for the bars where Cheevey had laid in more lumber. This was meant to keep one of those cannibals in. Now it was keeping them out, and that suits me fine. Cheevey has done more to save these children than I have. At least that’s how it feels. I’ll miss that man.
“Sumbitch,” I mutter, giving Mountain Beard a start. I wave my hand at him with a grin. The word feels awkward on my mouth. Odell seems to be slipping into my speech.
For the first time in what feels like two lifetimes, I roll the notion of being Denton Folger in my head. I was pretty hard on Kate, I admit that. And, staring out of the smoke-wreathed wreckage of the jailhouse door, I hunger for her company. Had my feelings about Kate changed? As tears stream down my face and a sob chokes in my throat, I recognize that my fear at this moment has less to do with being savaged by cannibals, but more that I might never see her face again.
I clear my throat and check my cylinder. Four shots left.
As I make a mental tally of my silver, a thought comes to me. I poke my head out the doorway.
Mountain Beard grabs my arm. “What’re you doing?”
I give him my length of aspenwood. “Keep these children safe, even if you have to draw those things away. The structure may hold, but don’t take any chances.”
“Who are you?” he whispers. “I mean―”
“Don’t worry about that now. Worry about those children.”
I run out into the smoke and bustle down to the north edge of town. Toward the thick of the creatures, at least from whence they had proceeded. I crane my neck up to the rooftops and pause when I hear a couple short whistles.
Eli waves me in from his spot along the back of the storefront façade.