Something bats at Whitley like a cat morbidly curious about its prey. Then bites down. Whitley watches a long, thin gout of his own blood fly skyward, into the heavy smoke. He rolls his weary head to one side, tries to speak but only whispers.
"Don't hurt my mules." Whitley's sight dims as he groggily watches them feed. They are creatures from Hades. One of the creatures begins to rip into the smallest corpse, the child, while others impatiently wait their turn.
Something red, wet and glistening lands nearby with an audible PLOP. Tall Bear Whitley feels them tugging, first at his clothing at then—with a starburst of agony—at his flesh. His eyes close of their own volition.
"This one has courage," the old man says from far away, "Perhaps we should let him live?"
…Whitley falls away into the comforting absence of pain.
Harry Shannon is the author of eleven novels, numerous short stories and several hit songs. He can be contacted on Facebook, or via his web site www.harryshannon.com
Table of Contents
The Name of the Wicked
Lucky
Them Bones
Blacktop
The Reckoning
Excerpt of CLAN
Weird, Weird West Page 6