Patrick scooped King and Sky under his arms and started up toward the cave’s entrance looking very much like a story-book troll. But no troll in any story ever had such a mind or heart as this man, Casper thought and was once again overwhelmed with gratitude for Patrick. Casper picked up Shadow like a sleeping child, and limped his way to the surface.
The cool fresh air was almost intoxicating next to the putrescence brewing below. Casper looked back down the tunnel. The flare was dead; darkness reigned once again. He stepped away from the entrance and laid Shadow down next to King and Sky. Tad, Beth and Lucy encircled their fallen friends, dropped to their knees and wept as he had never seen his children weep before.
Maggie clutched Casper and sobbed against his shoulder in great heaves. “Is it over? Is it dead?”
“I think so.”
“It isn’t over yet.” Patrick’s face was grave, and Casper wondered if the giant’s jovial spirit would ever return. “The eggs are still down there. If we leave them, they’ll hatch.”
Casper placed his hand on Tad’s shoulder. “Help us carry the dogs down.” Tad wiped his nose on his shirt then nodded.
They came down the stacks of limestone looking like a pagan funeral procession. Patrick carried King, Tad carried Sky and Casper carried Shadow. Casper’s leg balked every step of the way, but he bore his pain in silence. Once at the bottom he led them around the pond, back toward the path where the ATV was parked.
Casper laid Shadow down with King and Sky. “I want you all to go around and gather all the large stones you can carry and pile them over the dogs. We can’t dig them a grave, but this will keep any animals from disturbing them.”
While Maggie, Patrick and the children went off in search for stones for the cairn, Casper removed the propane tank from the back of the Gator and grabbed the last Molotov cocktail.
“Where are you going?” Tad asked.
“To finish this. Just be ready for a big boom.”
Casper made his way back up to the cave. He stood at the entrance for a moment staring down into the pit. He turned the valve to release the propane, but the tank had a safety feature that wouldn’t let the gas out unless it was attached to a hose. Casper picked up a large loose stone and hammered at the tank’s nozzle until the propane began leaking out. The compressed gas chilled his hand and immediately began to frost over. Casper chucked the tanked underhanded into the cave and it clattered to a halt somewhere below. He gave the tank time to empty then picked up the glass bottle, pulled the lighter from his pocket, and set fire to the rag poked into the mouth. He tossed the burning bottle into the cave then ran as fast as his bad leg would allow.
The mouth of the cave made a great ragged gasp before a belch of fire roared out into the night. The ground rumbled from the force of the explosion. Smoke rolled upward from several spots in the stacked limestone. The top of the cave collapsed and the freshly oxygenated inferno licked the night sky.
Casper made it to the bottom of the hill, a little scorched, but alive. After reassuring his family that he was all right, he helped them finish the dogs’ cairn. They stood in silence until rescue workers, drawn by the cave explosion, found them.
Casper was the last to walk away. He knelt and touched the rough stone covering.
“I’m sorry.”
* * *
Gordon Pummel pushed through the forest. His legs were jelly and his knees gave out several times, yet fear kept him running. An explosion roared in the distance and the shock wave thundered over the treetops. Distracted by the noise, he burst from the thick foliage and underbrush, tripped on an exposed root and tumbled face first in the dirt. His face stung as if he had kissed a porcupine and it took him a moment to realize that he had taken a header into a pile of pine needles.
He stood up and looked about at the strangeness of the place he now stood. Pine trees of every kind were clumped together, looking alien and deadly in the moonlight. His breath came in long, ragged drags; his heart felt bruised from thumping against his breastplate. The half-moon overhead gave him light to see, but it conjured demonic shadows that seemed to gobble up all the sounds of the forest.
A snapping twig crunched behind him. Gordon turned and saw something stir in the shadows. He thought instantly of those wretched insect-monsters and his legs quivered.
“Who’s there? I have a gun.”
“No you don’t,” a voice said from behind.
Gordon spun on his heels, lost his balance and fell on his behind. A man stepped from in between the trunks of two ancient pines too deformed to identify. A small fire appeared in his hand which he used to light a pipe. By the tiny ephemeral flame Gordon could see a great red scar spanning the left side of the man’s face.
“Who are you?”
The man squatted and blew smoke into Gordon’s face.
“Name’s Uriah, but that doesn’t matter now. I played a little game here in town and lost.” He scratched at his Amish-style beard. “I’m really not sure how that happened, but that doesn’t matter, either. I’m on my way to other places, have other doors to walk through, but I couldn’t leave without a little show to pick up my spirits.”
The man’s eyes glowed in the light of the pipe embers and Gordon lowered his gaze. “What do you mean? What show?”
Uriah flashed a mouth full of pointed teeth. A low growl came from behind, distracting Gordon from those gruesome teeth. Gordon spun onto his hand and knees. A pair of yellow eyes watched him from the darkness. He could hear her large tongue lick the slobber from her maw. Penelope pushed into the moonlight looking much like a prehistoric beast.
A scream, a roar and a maniacal giggle echoed through the Pine Belt then all was quiet once more.
The Cairn
Casper parked in front of the wood framed skeleton of the new house-in-progress. The carpenters were almost finished with the decking on the roof. Hopefully they would be in the house before winter. He got out of their new Navigator (the other had burned up in the house fire) and Maggie and the children followed. The weather had been dry and warm. The grass remained green and the leaves refused to admit that summer’s reign had come to an end.
Rumors and speculation were still rampant in Shadeland, but it was beginning to calm. Sly Felton had testified to the Pummels’ criminal activities at St. Francis, and perhaps in a show of mercy, he was acquitted on all charges brought against him. Gordon and Arthur Pummel were still being sought for their crimes, but they seemed to have vanished from the face of the earth. Despite Sly Felton’s acquittal, St. Francis was forced to close due to the scandal. Sly was able to find good homes for all of his majestic cats, though many that had worked at St. Francis claimed that one had been unaccounted for.
Sly refused to comment on the subject. He still lives in Shadeland, but keeps to himself. He is frequently spotted taking long walks in the forests on the outskirts of town.
The truth seemed to be hidden behind a fog of rumor, embellishments and plain old lies. Yet, in it all, there was never a mention of the monstrous insects. The rash of disappearances had dried up, and for most people that was all that mattered.
Casper and the family moved on past the charred remains of the pole barn then continued on to the thin path at the back of the property. Thick golden beams pushed through the deep green canopy. The breeze whistled through the leaves. Beth and Lucy each carried a red rose and took turns playfully tickling each other’s noses with the soft petals.
Maggie’s hand found its way into Casper’s and he curled his fingers around hers. He still had a bit of limp, and there were times when he swore that the rod in his leg had been struck by lightning. But right now he felt great.
They stepped into the clearing. The sun sparked off of the pond and the tall grass rippled back and forth like a golden sea. Even the chunks of blackened limestone near the top of the collapsed stack seemed beautiful.
But all eyes were drawn to the cairn.
The stones were no longer in a pile but scattered in a large circle as if thrown as
ide in haste. The remains of the dogs were gone, but the space was not empty. Casper knew what it was at first glance, but he walked closer just the same.
In the center of the stones, where they had laid the dogs to rest, was a burlap sack. It was just as wet as it had been the day he first touched it in the midst of Rogers River. His memory still rang with the terrified whining that had come from within that sack. He had thought of that day on the river often since the dogs had died. Now, seeing the burlap sack in the midst of the grave, he had no doubts that the three puppies that he had failed to save had somehow come back as King, Sky and Shadow to save his own family.
But where were they now?
“What happened?” Tad asked. “You said the rocks would keep other animals from digging them up.”
Beth knelt and touched the burlap. “Why would someone put this here?”
Lucy laid her rose on the burlap sack and when she did the sack soaked into the dirt as if it had be made of water. They made a collective gasp, all but Lucy. She turned her face up to the sun and smiled.
Something stirred in the tall grass followed by a string of tiny squeals. Three puppies frolicked into the clearing, playfully nipping at one another. One was a yellow lab with long floppy ears, the other was an Australian shepherd with ghostly blue eyes, and the third was a small Schipperke jumping around like a tiny black fox.
The children and puppies ran to each other, colliding with raucous laughter and barks.
Maggie clutched his hand tight. “Is that . . .?” She couldn’t finish her question.
“Yes,” Casper said knowing just what she meant. It was King, Sky and Shadow. Their dogs had come home again.
He glanced up at the blackened crumble of limestone. It had become a sort of cairn in its own right. Was it empty as well? Were the monstrous insects truly dead? Or had some of them escaped the fire? Was that why the dogs had returned?
Casper reached his mind toward the puppies, but felt no connection.
“What does this mean?” Maggie asked, perhaps reading his thoughts.
“I don’t know,” Casper said. “For now, let’s just call it a gift.”
The End.
A Word From the Author
Thank you so much for reading PREDATORY ANIMALS. If you would like to receive an email whenever I publish a new story, please sign up for my New Release Newsletter. I promise not to spam you and you can opt out anytime you like. Or for a complete list of my work, check out my Amazon Author Page.
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About the Author
Gabriel Beyers lives in Bloomington, Indiana with his wife, two children, and two lovable yet destructive dogs. He is also the author of:
Guarding the Healer
Contemplations of Dinner
Heart of the Dead: Perpetual Creatures 1
Copyright
Predatory Animals
Gabriel Beyers
Copyright © 2012 by Gabriel Beyers. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from the author or publisher.
July 2012
Table of Contents
River Sacrifice
Visitor in the Pines
Town Secrets
Voices Within
Back from the Dead
Scorpion
Betrayal
Suspicions
The Nest
Rabbit Trick
Two Slaves
The Giant
Search Party
An Evening Underground
Threats & Warnings
Spying on the Enemy
Knife to a Gunfight
Free at Last
New Tricks
Investigating
Lines in the Fog
Taken Away
Hidden in the Leaves
Attacked at Home
Condemned
Triplet Infernos
To the Cave
The Queen of Extinction
The Cairn
A Word From the Author
About the Author
Copyright
Predatory Animals Page 27