The Valley

by William Meikle

  The remainder of the herd tried to back away from the shore.

  “Keep driving them lads,” Jake shouted, firing his pistol. “It’s our only hope.”

  Pat ran forward again, duster coat flapping. Frank put two shots into the last remaining live male. The herd turned and headed for the water once more.

  Within five minutes there were none of them left alive. The four men stood fifty yards back and watched the butchery unfold.

  36

  Several minutes later Jake saw the first scorpion crawl out of the lake carrying a slab of meat. A long line of them developed, stretching away towards the stream at the east-end of the lake.

  Well, that went better than I expected.

  Pat had tears streaming down his face as he watched the beasts being flayed and chopped. But he stood and watched, and did not avert his eyes.

  The old Pat would have his back turned and his eyes closed.

  “Well gaffer,” the Squire said. “What now?”

  “Now we wait a while. Ain’t no use getting too far ahead of ourselves. Once enough of those beasts have headed back to the cave, we’ll follow them.”

  “And then we kill them,” Pat said softly. “Kill them all.”

  “That’s the plan big man.”

  “Good,” Pat said. His eyes were hard as flints.

  The mass of scorpions made quick work of their prey. The lake was red as far as the eye could see. Patches of fur and fat floated in a scum on the surface. One by one the scorpions carried meat aloft in their claws, some of the pieces nearly as large as the scorpions themselves.

  In the time it took the Squire to smoke a pipe the shaggy beasts were stripped bare. The line of scorpions stretched far into the distance, and only two or three stragglers still chopped and tore at the carcasses. Overhead, eagles gathered in a high spiral.

  “Time we were going lads,” Jake said.

  The four of them walked towards the line of scorpions, warily at first, then with more confidence as the beasts ignored them, intent on carrying their catch back to the cave.

  “It looks like your plan is working Gaffer,” the Squire said.

  “Let’s hope the rest of it goes as smoothly,” Jake replied, but he had half his attention on Pat and Frank. Neither of the two of them had spoken more than a few words all day. Both seemed lost in their thoughts, distant and distracted.

  I can understand it with Collins. That shoulder must hurt like the devil. But I can’t fathom what’s up with the big man. He’s changed.

  And I ain’t sure it’s for the better.

  They walked alongside a particularly large specimen of the scorpions. It carried a meaty rack of ribs aloft above it, using the large tail to balance the weight. It seemed oblivious to their existence.

  Let’s hope it stays that way.

  The smell, both from the scorpions and the butchered meat, was almost overwhelming. By the time they reached the stream Jake had his mouth covered with a hand, and had to force the gorge down to stop him gagging.

  The climb up the hill proved difficult. Pat ended up almost carrying Frank, and the Squire left blood dripping in the snow from reopened wounds in his wrists. By the time they reached the high outcrop where they first entered the valley they were all exhausted. Frank Collins looked like he was near to collapse; white as a sheet, with new blood seeping through the bandages at the shoulder.

  They sat on the rim looking out over the valley, trying to catch their breath. Scorpions walked past then, less than ten yards away, but paying them no notice.

  “Pat,” Jake said. “Stay here and look after Frank. The Squire and I will fetch the powder. Meet us at the mouth of yon cave in an hour.”

  Pat looked Jake in the eye.

  “You ain’t gonna run out on us, are you Jake?”

  Such a thought would never even have occurred to the old Pat.

  Jake stared back.

  “I done promised George, and I done promised the Pastor. Now I’ll promise you big man. I ain’t going nowhere until we sort this mess out.”

  Jake rose, groaning at pains in muscles he didn’t even know he had.

  “Come on Squire. Let’s see how quickly we can get down to the Creek and back.”

  The oil lamps lay in the mud at the lip of the cave. They’d been overturned, and half trampled into the clay. They picked up two. Both still worked when the Squire lit them up.

  Jake watched the scorpions going down the passageway. There was just enough room between them for the men to slip in and walk between them. They would have to keep up a good pace to avoid being walked over.

  “Are you up to running Squire?”

  “If it means getting out of this valley, I’m up for anything old chap. Lead on, and don’t spare the horses.”

  Jake waited until the next scorpion went down the shaft, then slid quickly into position. The Squire jumped in alongside and together they went down into the dark, hemmed in front and back by two large scorpions.

  37

  The last scorpion went down the hole five minutes after Jake and the Squire. Frank would have been happy to sit on the ledge and watch the valley until Jake came back, but Pat had other ideas.

  “What if those beasts ain’t had enough food yet Frank?” he said, looking back down the pit. “What if they decide to come back out? No amount of powder’s gonna do any good then.”

  Frank used up the last of his tobacco and lit up a pipe.

  “What do you suggest Pastor?” he asked, before he realized what he’d said.

  “Pastor,” Pat said, and smiled. “I think I like that. I think that’s what I’ll be.”

  I don’t think you just get to choose like that.

  He didn’t tell Pat what he was thinking. The big man wasn’t listening anyway. He still stared down the pit.

  “We gotta stop them getting back up here,” he said.

  Frank laughed bitterly.

  “What do you suggest we use Pat? Harsh language?”

  The big man rose and hefted the axe.

  “If they is all down in the side tunnel, then all we have to do is stop them getting out of there. Between the two of us, we can do that. It ain’t hardly wide enough to let one of them out at a time.”

  “Ain’t no need for that. Jake will be back soon with the powder,” Frank said, and was dismayed to hear a whine in his voice.

  Pat looked at him sadly.

  “I knows you’re a good man Frank. I mean to right the wrong we done in this valley, and I’m a-going down that tunnel now. I’ll leave it between you and your God whether you come or not.”

  With that Pat turned and walked down towards the entrance to the tunnel.

  Frank sighed and stood.

  I wouldn’t be alive without him. From now on, where he goes, I go.

  That’s what he’d told Jake. That’s what he’d promised himself.

  And that’s what I’m going to do. I can’t let any more good men die because I stood aside and did nothing.

  He caught up with the big man, lit two of the oil lamps, and together they went down into the tunnel.

  38

  The early minutes in the first stretch of tunnel were the longest of Jake’s life. They stumbled, almost running, in the confined space between the scorpions, afraid to speak, afraid that at any moment one of the beasts would turn on them. They would have no time or space to use their weapons in the confined area.

  The Squire’s breath came fast and heavy.

  “Keep up old man,” Jake whispered. The tall tail of the scorpion ahead of them twitched. Jake held his breath, but the beast kept moving forward.

  The whole tunnel smelled rank; of blood, gore and the high acrid odor of the scorpions themselves. The floor ran awash with slime and blood. Twice Jake’s foot slid away from beneath him and he struggled to keep balance.

  “Keep up old man,” the Squire whispered, and laughed.

  The sound echoed around them. The scorpions, as one, stopped moving and everything went suddenly
still and quiet.

  The tail ahead of them swayed in the air like a snake looking for a victim to strike. The scorpion behind them inched forward slowly. In one claw it held a lump of meat the size of a human torso. That wasn’t what had Jake concerned. The second claw clacked open and closed. It waved in the air, less than a foot from Jake’s nose. It stopped clacking, and opened and closed slowly.

  It’s tasting us.

  Jake and the Squire stood completely still. The only sound was their own breathing and the thudding of their heartbeats in their chests. A bead of sweat ran down Jake’s nose and fell with a soft plop on the floor. The claw dived towards the noise and wafted over the ground for several seconds.

  Jake held his breath.

  The claw clacked twice, the noise like a gunshot in the confines of the tunnel. As if it was a signal, the line of scorpions started to move again, keeping time like a marching army.

  Jake allowed himself to breathe and once more broke into the shuffling run. He looked over to the Squire and pressed a finger to his lips. The Squire got the message and they stumbled on in silence until they reached the side tunnel. The scorpions scuttled inside while the two men went straight on.

  Jake turned and looked back.

  The line of scorpions stretched away into the gloom, a seemingly never-ending supply of meat being delivered into the cavern below. Jake suddenly had a mental image of eggs, thousands of them, all hatching, the scorpions gorging themselves and growing as more and more meat was delivered into their claws.

  He started to run.

  “Come on Squire. We need to hurry.”

  39

  Frank and Pat arrived at the side tunnel just in time to see the last scorpion descend inside. Frank went to the lip and raised the lantern. The eggs still glistened where they hung on the walls. The young scorpions inside, now more than two inches long, writhed violently, small claws starting to tear at the thick walls that encased them.

  They’ve grown.

  They’re nearly ready to hatch.

  He looked down into the cave. There was no sign of any movement below, but the walls glistened. Thick layers of squirming eggs covered every surface.

  If they get out, it won’t just be the valley that gets overrun; it’ll be the whole of Montana.

  “Okay big fella,” he said. “You’ve convinced me. What’s the plan?”

  Pat lifted the axe.

  “We stop any coming back out. We hold them here until Jake gets back.”

  And if Jake doesn’t come back?

  He kept that thought to himself. As Frank moved out of the cave entrance, Pat took his place and stood on guard. Frank took the time to finish the pipe, smoking it down to the very last embers until they finally winked out.

  There was a scuttling in the side passage and a clack. They saw the claw first, rising above floor level. Pat hacked, just once, with the axe. Yellow fluid sprayed as the claw span away into darkness. A conical snout came up. Pat kicked out. The beast fell away. The loud clacking of claws echoed up from below, but nothing else came up the tunnel.

  One at a time we can handle. But what if they come in a group?

  Come on Jake.

  We need that powder.

  40

  Ruby Creek felt quiet and strangely normal as Jake and the Squire emerged from the mine and squinted against the sudden daylight.

  “I’ve thought of a flaw in the plan Gaffer,” the Squire said. “How in the name of the Lord are we going to carry the powder back up that slope.

  Jake smiled grimly.

  “We’ve just got to carry what we can. We ain’t got no horses…and they wouldn’t go up into the tunnel anyway.”

  The Squire was quiet as they walked down to the storage cabin, and both of them avoided looking too closely at where Strang’s body still lay outside the other cabin. Coyotes had been at him. The body sat in a pool of guts and gore.

  The Squire helped Jake bring the powder kegs out onto the porch. There were six of them, small barrels each about a foot long and the same wide.

  “Ain’t gonna be able to carry more than two each,” Jake said. “

  The Squire held up an empty burlap grain-sack.

  “You’ll get three in here I reckon,” he said.

  Jake nodded.

  “Good find. Now all we need is another like that.”

  They went back into the storeroom. Jake found what he was looking for seconds later. He placed a spool of fuse wire in his jacket pocket.

  Looks to be a couple of yards of it. That should be plenty.

  It was only then that he noticed the Squire had stopped searching.

  The Englishmman spoke softly.

  “I’ve been thinking Gaffer,” he said. “You’ve got a bag of gold squirreled away here somewhere. Why don’t we just take it and high-tail it out of here?”

  I done had the same thought myself…many times.

  “I made promises Squire,” Jake replied. “Hard promises. If I done broke them, I wouldn’t be any kind of man at all.”

  The Squire nodded.

  “I thought you would say that. But you see,” he said, taking out his pistol. “I made no such promises.”

  He pointed the gun at Jake.

  “So why don’t you be a good fellow and tell me where the gold is. I’ll be on my way, and you can go and be a good hero. That way, everyone will be happy.”

  Jake stared down the barrel.

  “We ain’t got time for shenanigans Squire. This powder is needed up in the cave. You know that.”

  The Squire smiled grimly.

  “You won’t be getting me back up there in a hurry. Now, where is the gold?”

  “You know Squire,” Jake said. “I done had pistols pointed in my face afore. I don’t scare easy.”

  “Don’t mistake me for the lad Strang,” the Englishman replied. “I’ll put you down and spit on you if you try anything. We’re both old enough to know what’s going to happen. Just give me the gold. Time’s a-wasting for your pals up in the tunnel.”

  I’ve put what we found so far in the place where Mother will never find it.

  “We need to go to the main cabin,” Jake said. “The gold is in the crawl-space under the floor there, under the stove. We always hid things there back at the farm. Where Mother will never find it.”

  “Lead on then man, lead on,” the Squire said impatiently.

  A cloud of blow-flies rose lazily to meet them as they entered the cabin. The room had been splattered with blood and the sickly yellow fluids of a scorpion. The stink assaulted Jake, almost like a physical blow to the face.

  The Walker pistol lay on the floor. As Jake bent the Squire also noticed it.

  “I reckon I’ll be the one taking a look down there,” he said. He motioned with the pistol.

  “Just stand in the corner Gaffer. This won’t take but a minute.”

  Jake stepped back into the corner. The Englishman kept the pistol pointing vaguely in that direction as he pulled up two floorboards near the stove. He bent to one knee.

  “There is something down here.” He put his left hand down.

  Clack.

  The Squire’s screams rang loud through the room. He pulled back his arm. Where his left hand had been was just a stump, spraying blood. The floorboards at his feet buckled and broke as a large scorpion, blood crazed, forced its way up from below.

  41

  Frank’s fears were realized not long after Pat kicked the scorpion down into the darkness.

  It started with a rustling. The acrid odor got noticeable stronger, accompanied by more of the gunshot-fast clacking.

  They’re coming up the wall.

  “Make your peace with the Lord,” Pat said to Frank. “Here they come.”

  Pat raised the axe. The first scorpion to poke its snout out of the cave was immediately cleaved through the middle and kicked back down the hole. It only served to send the rest into a frenzied attack. Two more came straight behind it. Pat went for the higher one first,
taking off both claws in a left-right strike.

  He was going to be too slow to deal with the one that reached for his ankle. Frank fired three shots. They blew the claw into pieces of shell and gore. The recoil opened the wound at his shoulder again, and he felt blood flow inside his shirt.

  That’s the least of my worries.

  Pat swung the axe, again and again. Frank backed him up, firing shot after shot into the seething mass of scorpions that fought and struggled to find a space to get through. The side tunnel was full of them, the noise of clacking claws louder even than Frank’s gunshot.

  The pistol grew hot to the touch, and still Frank reloaded and fired as fast as he was able. Pat swung the axe like a man possessed, coat fluttering around him like wings. The ground at Pat’s feet ran with the sticky yellow guts of the scorpions mixed with shell and fragments of claw. The pieces cracked and split underfoot as Pat danced hither and thither to avoid slashing, clacking claws.

  But even the big man couldn’t hold back the press of the scorpions. While Frank was completing yet another reload, Pat hacked a claw off an attacker, then buried the axe deep in the shell of a second. The axe caught, momentarily stuck in the shell. In the time he took to put his foot on the body and lever the axe out one of the scorpions had scuttled past him, heading straight for where Frank was still reloading.

  A claw flashed, heading for his face.

  Frank reversed the pistol and, using it like a club, kept the claw at bay. The thick tail swung overhead. It struck, but Frank just had time to pull his head aside. The barbed tip struck the wall by his ear. Poison splashed on rock.

  The beast came on faster. One claw headed for Frank’s head, the other, lower, targeting his groin.

  He smacked the one nearest his head with the butt of the gun. But he had no time to get near the other.

  The claw opened, wide, and Frank waited for the cut that would surely cleave him in two.

  42

  Jake dived for the Walker just as the scorpion came all the way out of the floor. It grabbed the Squire round the waist with both claws. It squeezed and the Englishman collapsed inwards with a last sigh, blood pumping in gouts from his mouth.