Breathe Deep Fear Vol. 1

by Heath Waterman

  The ground trembled beneath his belly as he reached for the now solitary gun. The grizzly pounced, flipping him onto his back as his fingers wrapped around the cool metallic barrel. He didn’t aim as its mouth rushed towards his face, hot putrid breath and dozens of sharp teeth causing his breath to snag.

  He fired.

  The bear recoiled. Quickly slapping two shells in, he fired again, and it stumbled back as its jaw hung loosely from the rest of its face. Scrambling to his feet, Cale side stepped a rage filled charge and aimed at the passing yellow eye.

  The shot echoed through the fog, quickly followed by a defeated groan.

  The bear’s frame collapsed into the soft earth. It didn’t get back up.

  Cale kept a death grip on his weapon as wide eyes watched for so much as a twitch. Seconds ticked by, followed by a shuddering breath. He sank to his knees as his chest began to heave. Intense shakes almost forced him to drop the shotgun as he stared at the dead monster in front of him. Sweat dripped off the edge of his nose despite the cold, and for a moment, his nerves were completely shot.

  Sam limped up and scooted his nose under the closest arm, startling him from his shock. Cale slowly pet the dog in an effort to calm himself. How had he done that? No, no time to worry about that. They were still in danger. Check Sam’s leg, check Dean in the crate, and get moving.

  Forcing his jelly-like legs to stand, he gave Sam a once over. The limp wasn’t that bad, probably be fine after a few days of rest and it wouldn’t slow the dog down much. His eyes drifted over to the knife buried at the base of the bear’s skull, and he swallowed down a wave of nausea. The thing was clearly not in its right mind. The changes to its physiology, the boney sores, had to have been awful, no doubt excruciating.

  He truly felt sorry for it.

  Pulling the knife out and flicking off the blood, he pushed the negative feelings aside. His animals were okay. He was oka- well alive. He was going to have nightmares for the rest of his life, but at least he’d have nightmares. Dean yowled at him impatiently, garnering a small smile. They were okay.

  He gathered the crate and took one last look at the bear.

  “I’m sorry,” he said softly and bowed his head.

  His head snapped up as multiple footsteps started up from where he had come. Those other creatures were coming. Setting Dean down, he shoved more shells into his gun. There were only nine shots left if he included the few that remained in his pockets, and no clue as to how many things were in the next three and a half miles.

  “Get Dean.”

  He hated making his injured pal carry the crate, but if those things started jumping out again he needed both hands to fire efficiently. If- no, when they got out of this, Sam was getting nothing but prime steaks for a month, and Dean would get fresh fish along with his milk everyday.

  Quickly and quietly, they headed for the town. Snarls sounded from the fog, hidden behind the veil, teasing his attention from different directions. To Cale, the three mile walk was quickly becoming more like three hundred. Every twig that snapped or leaf that ruffled made his heart rate skyrocket.

  It made him twitchy, and he scolded himself for burning up valuable energy. It didn’t help that his mind was trying to convince him that they were making the sounds intentionally, like they were trying to test his reactions. Considering they tended to walk right into his shotgun blasts, it was highly unlikely.

  Was he even going straight anymore?

  The flashlight dimmed, and he bit back a curse. They were still a long way from town. The batteries would quit way before they arrived, and he knew they couldn’t make it in the dark. That three foot beam was the only form of vision he had. The forest alone would be impossible to get through.

  He was pretty sure the monsters knew it too.

  The longer they hunted him, the more he realized they possessed a moderate degree of intelligence. Sure, diverting his attention was probably a stretch, but after a few tries, they started to stay away from his light and where he could possibly see them. They’d even stayed at a distance so he couldn’t get a clear shot at them, but stayed close enough he could hear them and stay on edge.

  He just hoped they couldn’t count.

  The flashlight flickered, and they moved in closer. Pushing him harder, waiting for the light to die; were they aware of batteries or merely picking up on his vulnerabilities through observation? In either case, they were too smart for his liking. Well, smart wasn’t the word. Adaptable seemed like a better fit. It was bad regardless.

  The flashlight flickered again, and the monsters quickened their pace. Although, they weren’t quite as fast as they had been when he was tailing the bear. Were they slowing down, or letting him tire? It was possible they were keeping just enough pressure on, while still trying to outlast him so it would be easier to crunch on him.

  The flashlight flickered and then faded to black, the night and fog enveloping him like water escaping from a broken dam.

  “Move, Sam!”

  He ran, Sam closely in tow. Minute after minute, he stumbled blindly forward as fast as he could. Legs cramping and lungs burning, his terror-fueled instincts wouldn’t let him stop. How he didn’t trip or run into a tree was a miracle in its own right. How they didn’t catch him off guard with all the blood thumping in his ears was another one.

  He ran until he felt that he would pass out if he didn’t stop.

  Bracing himself against a tree on the edge of a long but shallow ridge, he squeezed his eyes shut and tried to keep his breaths quiet. His ears were his only defense. He had to quiet himself down. God, his head felt like a drum-set from a heavy metal concert. The pounding in his skull was making his vision blur. At least he thought it was blurring; things were so muted it was tough to tell.

  A chunk of tree exploded inches in front of his face as a gunshot echoed from slightly further down the ridge. He dropped to the ground and pulled Sam and Dean close to him as someone cursed. Were those things using guns now? That was a stupid thought. Should he call out? No, if they did mean harm he’d be giving them a clear shot. They were close, a couple dozen feet max.

  He could make that distance and find out whether the shooter was trigger happy or malicious.

  Pulling Dean out of his crate, he handed the kitten to Sam. The dog grabbed the disgruntled kitten by the scruff of the neck as the little feline leveled a glare at the farmer. Cale ignored him. He motioned for Sam to stay and flung the case toward where he had heard the curse.

  The gun flashed ten mere feet away, and Cale charged.

  The person turned only for Cale to knock away the gun and kick the person down. The figure rolled to his feet and drew a knife. They threw a quick jab, but Cale jumped back. The shooter followed with a barrage of quick clean strikes. Whoever it was knew how to use the weapon. Cale dodged a stab, pulled the knife away, and tackled the person. They tumbled down the small hill, grappling and punching each other as they went. Cale was a little stronger and more deliberate in his actions.

  He used it to his advantage and pinned the attacker to the ground, resting his Bowie knife on their throat. The attacker instantly went still, giving Cale a moment to make out a few details in the dark.

  The figure was dressed in some kind of lightweight armor, dark colored and reminiscent of military gear. Not an inch of skin was visible and a helmet hid the face from view. As his adrenaline decreased and his senses returned, Cale realized his forearm was resting on something distinctly female. Eyes widening, he ripped the helmet off her head. Long, fiery-red hair pooled out onto the ground and framed an attractive face, marred by a scowl. He simply blinked in confusion,

  His head snapped around as he heard the sound of a gun being readied.

  The woman shifted beneath him, her fist connecting square with his jaw.

  He passed out into the mud.

  Chapter

  7

  Cale cringed as he slowly regained consciousness. His head felt like someone had split it open with a hatchet and then
twisted. Gingerly, he dabbed his fingers around his head to make sure he wasn’t bleeding again and opened his eyes. He was still in the woods? Or the better question might be, how was he still alive? It seemed strange that… woman tried to kill him only to leave him when he was vulnerable.

  Let alone carefully prop him up against a tree.

  Pushing the questions aside, he forced himself to stand up. Waves of dizziness blurred his vision, and forced him to grab onto the tree. It would be so easy to close his eyes and fall asleep.

  “Sam?” The word came out as a croak. “Dean?”

  How long had he been out? Why weren’t they here?

  The fog had settled, hovering ethereally over the ground as the moon shone proudly in the late autumn sky. Faint beams of light cut through the bare branches before being choked out by the dark, providing only enough illumination to shape shadows.

  He stumbled forward, clutching his head as a new headache slammed against the back of his skull. Where was his knife? He was in the same place as earlier, so it had to be nearby. Sam would be able to find it easily. Where was that dog?”

  “Sam.”

  Louder than last time, he hesitated to use a full on shout. Those things could still be around. He could have even been left out as bait. A chill ran up his spine. What if those guys had gone after Sam and Dean? The dog was probably too slow to get away with the limp, and he was far too loyal to drop the cat and run. He had to find them. They couldn’t get lost, not so close to the town. Not when they were almost safe.

  “Sam!”

  “You should be quiet.” A voice called out from behind him. It was rough … gravelly and muffled, just slight enough to give it an eerie feeling. “You wouldn’t want those other things to find you, right?”

  Cale glanced over his shoulder. He could faintly make out the shape of someone standing just at the edge of his range of vision. The figure was dressed similarly to the woman, but taller and gave off a much more dangerous vibe. Gritting his teeth, he stumbled toward the shadow, a glare plastered over a pained grimace.

  “What the hell have you done to my dog and cat?”

  The figure stepped towards him, the moonbeams highlighting the edge of a gun barrel.

  “Nothing.”

  “Then why aren’t they here?”

  “Maybe they ran off scared.”

  Cale thought back to the time a cougar had threatened the herd and how Sam had stared it down long enough for him to get a gun. Dean wouldn’t be allowed to run off by himself, and there was no way his companion would. That dog wouldn’t just run, not if he was vulnerable.

  “Not those guys.”

  He turned and started crawling back up the small hill where he had left everyone.

  “Where are you going?”

  “I’m getting my gun, maybe using it on you, and then finding my friends.”

  The figure gave a short chuckle.

  “Good luck with that.”

  He fought to keep his eyes focused as his vision swam again. The witch had one heck of a right hook. It would have caused problems even if he hadn’t already whacked his brain against the truck. Two concussions in maybe four hours; probably should be grateful he was even awake.

  The top of the hill was empty aside from his shotgun, resting against the tree as it was left. He gave it a once over and double checked how many shells it still had. No telling if the armored guys had robbed him, and finding out during an attack was undesirable.

  “Any idea how you’re going to find them?”

  Cale pushed the vertigo aside as he spun towards the man behind him, his gun readied if needed.

  “Who are you, and why haven’t you shot me yet? Your partner seemed determined to.”

  “Just call me Wolf, and as far as shooting you, I don’t feel like wasting bullets.”

  He didn’t have time for this. Sam and Dean were out there alone. Normally that wouldn’t bother him, but with that hurt leg- no, there wasn’t time to worry.

  “Well … Wolf, if you’ll excuse me, I have two missing animals to find.”

  Before he had a chance to turn, the taller man had closed the distance and tapped something cool against the back of his hand. Cale glanced down at his knife in Wolf’s outstretched hand.

  “You’ll probably need this at some point.”

  Cale grabbed the knife and sheathed it wordlessly before trudging off aimlessly. His aunt would berate him for a lack of manners by not thanking the nutcase. Then again, she had never really considered this situation, so maybe he would be forgiven.

  Probably not.

  “You know your pets’ tracks go off in the other direction. Looks like they backtracked to where you had come from.”

  An unwanted shiver ran up Cale’s spine. It was either the cold or the fact they may have headed back to the barn. It didn’t matter. The forest could be crawling with those monsters. He increased his pace. He had to catch up with them before something else did.

  Why had Sam doubled back?

  “Why the rush?”

  Cale always believed that he had exceptional patience, but he felt himself losing it rapidly with the strange man. It was like every word was laced with amusement, like the bastard was enjoying the situation. He was nearly panicking and could only struggle to make it safely through a terrifying environment.

  Wolf was taking a leisurely stroll.

  “If it’s the things you’re worried about, Hawk has probably already cleaned up most, if not all of them.”

  “Who?”

  “The pretty redhead you felt up.”

  “Great, so they’re shot instead of devoured.”

  He pushed deeper into the forest, Wolf following silently. It was unsettling how quietly the man moved like a ghost. Cale had trouble keeping tabs on him and almost lost track once or twice. He was sure it was intentional on the man’s part. After everything that had happened tonight, being tested was not appreciated.

  Hearing something to his left, he snapped his gun up and took aim, narrowing his eyes to focus.

  “Put your gun down. It’s the mutt and his chew toy.”

  Dean came into sight first, Sam shepherding him. The kitten ran up underfoot and then promptly began to clean the dog slobber from the back of its neck. Cale reached down as Sam limped up, much slower than he had been earlier, and pet the top of his head. The dog wagged its tail slightly, fatigue obvious.

  “Good boy.” He struggled to keep his voice from cracking. “Good boy, Sam.”

  “Wow, they should make this into a Disney film.”

  Ignoring him, Cale unzipped the jacket a few inches and scooped up Dean. He put the growling tiger inside so that only its head poked out and scratched the little white patch on his forehead. Slowly, Dean’s agitation lessened and he nestled in deeper, purring slightly. Cale patted Sam one more time and turned toward the town.

  The woman who had slugged him stepped out of the shadows.

  He leveled his gun warningly. She wasn’t getting the drop on him again. Maybe they weren’t going to kill him, but she could still be mad about him defeating her, and- yeah, he was going to pretend the other part didn’t happen.

  She just ignored him.

  “Hawk, how was your moonlit stroll?”

  “We have a problem. They are starting to gather near our location.” Cale tensed as her head slightly tipped in his direction. What was she looking at him for? “We’re going to be swarmed in under an hour. Backup won’t be here for two.”

  “I better get to town then.”

  Cale motioned for Sam to follow, but froze as Wolf started to chuckle.

  “Kid, the only things left in town are the zombies.”

  Chapter

  8

  Cale’s town was a small mountain community consisting of two main streets crisscrossing at its center that branched off into other roads leading in or out of the mountains. Just off the main drag, it was a frequent stop for truck drivers, bikers, and the odd passerby. This gave the town a unique atmos
phere. Olden styled streetlights lined the roads and illuminated the ma and pa shops running along the sidewalks. Yet, a Supercenter with a parking lot half the size of the town made up its south end, and the computer shop always had customers.

  It was timeless but modern, peaceful but always dealing with some sort of scuffle at either of the two bars, and self-sufficient but not isolated. There were never a lot of kids, but somehow there was always another generation to keep the town going. Almost everyone in the area lived out of town, but there was always something going on regardless of the day or time. It was never still … never empty.

  Which was why Cale couldn’t quite process the deserted scene in front of him.

  Standing at the edge of the woods bordering the Supercenter parking lot, the lights failed to bring him the relief he thought they would. Even if Wolf had been right and the entire town had become … zombies, there should be signs of chaos. A bloody streak, smashed glass, or even bullet holes should have decorated the town.

  Everyone had at least two different guns for crying out loud!

  Instead, it was like everyone had shut down the town and vanished. Instead of being awful or frightening, it felt wrong … off. He could see the undamaged shops closed up tight, the only lights coming from the sides of the roads and parking lot. There was no music or shouts coming from the bars hidden on the far end, and the gas station’s lights were off.

  They were never off.

  Another shiver ran through him and his eyes unfocused. It had to have been close to an hour ago that he woke up, and ever since then, he couldn’t get himself warmed up or his focus to stay. Being outside for somewhere around six hours didn’t help, but with his constant movement, the cold shouldn’t be bothering him.

  He glanced over his shoulder at the two new additions to the group.

  They had followed him for whatever reason. Why, he hadn’t bothered to figure out. The one called Hawk simply stared at him silently. She was probably trying to figure out how to get the drop on him again, even though her demeanor seemed more quizzical to him.