Earthly Worlds

by Billy Wright

  Stewart rubbed his eyes and peered harder into the night.

  “Oh, Mommy, they’re so ugly!” Cassie shrilled.

  “What, honey, they’re just coyotes!” Liz said, still trying to soothe her.

  “No! The things! On their backs!” Cassie said.

  “Yeah!” Hunter called. “Little monsters on their backs!”

  This sudden revelation sent a bolt of lightning through Stewart. The kids could see them, whatever they were.

  “What do you see?” Stewart said.

  “They’re ugly!” Hunter said. “Like warty gnomes, but with huge, nasty teeth and ears like bats!”

  Chittering, whispering gibberish passed around the circle of creatures. There was no mistaking the consternation in the creatures’ tone, as if they were saying, They can see us!

  The coyotes hesitated at the edge of the firelight, as if awaiting a command to charge.

  But then an agonized yip erupted from a coyote somewhere in the darkness. There came a scrambling, scratching noise, as if its claws were tearing up the forest floor. It loosed another yip, and then a decidedly non-coyote squeal erupted, like a javelina caught in a bear trap.

  The glowing eyes disappeared as they turned toward the noise. Snarls of warning and anger filled the blackness. Sounds of scrambling, movement, paws tearing up the needle-carpeted earth.

  Another yip, this time crunched into silence.

  A chorus of high-pitched gibbering filled the air, a commotion coming so hard and fast and from all directions that he couldn’t follow it.

  There was nowhere for Stewart and his family to run. They were miles from anywhere—

  “Liz!” he shouted. “Get the kids in the outhouse!”

  It was the only shelter within miles, and its walls were cinder block.

  “Follow me! Run!” he said.

  She did not question, seizing Hunter by the arm. Stewart clutched the hatchet and ran toward the building, Liz close behind him, even with Cassie bouncing on her hip, clinging with incredible tenacity. “Hunter! You’re on flashlight!” Stewart said.

  Hunter managed to stay on his feet despite his mother yanking on his arm, but with the other hand, he shone the flashlight toward and around the outhouse.

  Several coyotes crossed into the firelight in pursuit. And they had strange, gnarled riders on their backs, gripping little pistol-shaped crossbows. Whatever kind of bolt those things fired would not be larger than a pencil, but even a sharpened pencil could go deep into flesh.

  Moments later, Liz reached the outhouse door. It was metal with a real latch and a deadbolt on the inside.

  “Lock this door!” Stewart said as he spun to face any oncoming threats. This far from the fire, night closed around him as glowing eyes came and went among the tree trunks.

  “Dad!” A flashlight appeared at his side on the end of Hunter’s outthrust arm.

  Stewart took the flashlight in his left hand. The outhouse door slammed shut behind him, and the deadbolt clicked into place. The door was sheltered by the sloped eave of the roof, which was supported by a four-by-four-inch wooden pillar on each corner.

  A pair of low-slung canine shapes stalked toward him, dark riders silhouetted by the campfire on the coyote’s backs.

  Something clunked into one of the pillars and stuck there, a shiny black spine slightly thicker than a pencil, with little black feathers as fletching on the tail end.

  He shone the flashlight at the oncoming creatures. Small, three-fingered hands flew up and shielded great luminous eyes, as big and round as a bush baby’s, but obsidian black. Hunter’s description had been spot-on.

  The coyote steeds paused, blinking against the light.

  But then their riders loosed shrill battle-cries, and the coyotes leaped forward. Incoming, they dodged the swing of his hatchet, lunged at the backs of his legs, trying to hamstring him. He swung the hatchet wildly but couldn’t connect. The gnarled little creatures were shockingly quick.

  Something sharp jabbed his thigh. He seized the end of a tiny lance and used it to yank the hideous rider off its mount. The creature loosed a plaintive bleat as it arced through the air and slammed against the side of the outhouse. The riderless coyote lunged and retreated, snapping and snarling.

  In the forest around them emerged a commotion like Stewart had never heard before, a cacophony of coyote voices mixed with their strange riders’—but also something else. He caught a noise almost like a spinning buzz saw, but it moved among the trees as quick as a flitting bird.

  Stewart swung the hatchet but missed his target, embedding the blade in one of the pillars with a hard thunk.

  In the moment his weapon was immobilized, the other coyote dashed in and seized Stewart’s pants leg in its teeth, dragged his leg out from under him until he flopped onto his back. He went down hard against the earth, gravel jamming against him. The coyote kept pulling and dragging, stretching him out.

  The creature on its back leveled the small crossbow at his face.

  The hatchet tugged free.

  He kicked at the coyote’s face with his free leg. The crossbow twanged. The coyote tried to dodge Stewart’s kick, but didn’t relinquish its grip on his leg, throwing the creature’s crossbow bolt off-target. The bolt thunked into the earth about a foot from Stewart’s head.

  Stewart doubled his body like a folding knife, bringing the coyote’s head into range of his hatchet. It released him and jumped back, snarling and wary, yellow eyes gleaming like sparks.

  More yelps of pain and squeals of frustration rang out in the surrounding forest.

  The creature he had thrown against the wall was gone, as was its mount.

  A howl rang through the night, as if summoning.

  The coyote before him edged back, teeth bared. The rider holstered its crossbow and leveled a lance about as long as Stewart’s leg, as if preparing to charge.

  Then the coyote spun and ran off into the night.

  The sounds of paws thudding over the earth receded. Silence descended.

  Stewart stood, trying to catch his breath, slow his thundering heartbeat. He hadn’t been in a fight since high school, and it was easy to forget how quickly less than a minute of frenzied struggle sapped your energy.

  He said, “You guys stay in the outhouse for another minute or two. I think it’s over, but I’m going to have a look around.”

  “Okay,” Liz said. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m all right,” he said.

  “Hurry, Daddy,” Cassie said. “It stinks in here.”

  “It’s safe in there,” he said. “Just hang on a minute.”

  He walked into the forest, shining his flashlight in all directions. The needle-carpeted forest floor was torn up. Some of the tree trunks sported fresh gouges in the bark. Difficult to guess what had made them, but they didn’t resemble claw marks. He found several black crossbow bolts embedded in the trees and the ground.

  Then the shiny crimson of blood spread over a patch of fallen pine needles. The farther out he ranged, the more bloodstains he found.

  But no bodies. No dead or wounded coyotes, nor any evidence of their riders.

  He made a broad circle around the campground, but found no further sign of the coyotes, their riders, or whatever had driven them off. All that lay in the shadows of the towering pines was silence.

  Knocking on the outhouse door, he said, “All clear.”

  Liz flung open the door and threw her arms around him, tears of relief on her cheeks. Two small bodies jumped around his waist.

  “Something drove them off,” he said. “I don’t know what. I couldn’t see whatever it was.”

  “You’re bleeding, Daddy!” Cassie said, drawing back in disgust.

  The front of his thigh was soaked with blood. “Yeah, one of the little devils got too close.”

  “Let’s find the first-aid kit,” Liz said.

  They all returned to the campfire, but their eyes were still peering into the darkness. Liz entered the tent and
promptly returned with the little nylon package that read FIRST-AID KIT.

  Hunter shined the flashlight on the wound as Liz knelt before him. “Here we are with yet another strange leg wound,” she said. “Looks like a puncture.”

  Stewart nodded.

  Cassie’s eyes were wide with fascination. “Does it hurt, Daddy? Did they stab you?”

  “It looks worse than it is,” he said. “I’m fine.”

  She eyed him skeptically but watched as Liz went to work. “You should probably take your pants off.”

  After a couple of minutes to swap into a pair of gym shorts, he sat back down and let Liz begin the cleaning and bandaging process.

  Both kids watched with fascination as Liz smeared on antiseptic ointment and taped a patch of gauze over the puncture.

  “What was it, Dad?” Hunter asked.

  “They had little spears. Like I said, one got too close.”

  “Did you...you know, kill it?” Hunter said.

  “No, I grabbed the spear and yanked him off his, well, off his coyote. He got away.”

  “You said coyotes wouldn’t bother us!” Cassie said, crossing her arms, lower lip sticking out.

  “Normal coyotes don’t have monsters riding them,” Liz said.

  “To those little guys, it would be like fighting a giant,” Hunter said.

  Stewart nodded. “I hadn’t thought of that, but I suppose so.”

  “Daddy, you’re really brave,” Cassie said.

  He hugged her close and kissed her forehead.

  When Liz was finished, he stood and said, “Now, Hunter, you and me are gonna find enough wood to make that fire ten feet high. All night long.”

  Hunter stared at him. “We’re staying here?”

  Cassie crossed her arms again and squared herself toward him. “Daddy. What if they come back?”

  Liz fixed him with a look. “They have a point, babe. You expect us all to stay here and just go to bed after that?”

  “The other option is to pack up and hike down the mountain in the dark. We’re all exhausted. I don’t think those things are coming back.” The thought of stepping on venomous, prehensile, thorny vines while blundering around in the dark gave him pause.

  Clouds drifted across the sky now, shrouding some of the light they had enjoyed on their hike up the mountain. A six-mile hike in the dark sounded even less appealing than an hour ago, what with potential enemies in every direction. At least here, they could take shelter in the outhouse.

  A few minutes later, he and Hunter were scouring the area far and wide for firewood. He didn’t let the boy more than ten feet out of reach. The sheer strength of the coyote that had grabbed his leg was still fresh in his mind. It was the kind of strength that could easily drag a child away.

  Then Cassie’s distant voice came out to them. “Hey, my backpack! Where are my dolls?” Alarm grew in her voice.

  He heard Liz say, “Maybe the coyotes tried to drag it away. Did you have any food in it?”

  “Mommy, my dolls are gone, not the food!”

  “You sure have a hard time keeping track of those things,” Liz said.

  “But they’re gone!”

  “Then grab a flashlight and let’s look around. It’s not like they could have run off, right?” Liz said.

  Two flashlights started bobbing and swinging around the campground.

  Meanwhile, Hunter and Stewart made several trips back and forth to the fire pit, where they stacked up the pile of firewood until it was almost waist-high. Stewart broke and chopped the branches into suitable lengths, threw a bunch on the fire, and watched with satisfaction as the flames grew.

  He gave Hunter a high-five. “Great work, Son. Now it’s time for pajamas.”

  “But, Dad, I’m not tired,” Hunter said. “Like, at all.”

  “You will be,” Liz said. “Once we get settled down. It’s been an exciting night.”

  How she managed to stay in Mom Mode in the face of everything that had happened today amazed Stewart. That woman had fortitude.

  Cassie was already wearing her pajamas, sitting on a stump, clutching her knees and looking sullen.

  Hunter said, “How are we supposed to ‘get settled down’ with a bunch of little monsters out in the woods?”

  “I’m going to guard you all night long,” Stewart said. “I’ll be sitting right out front, keeping the fire up and my eyes open.”

  “All night?” Cassie said.

  “Yes, all night,” Stewart said, rubbing her soft hair.

  “All right.” She knuckled her eyes, and they hugged and kissed goodnight. “And we’ll look for my dolls tomorrow?”

  “Absolutely. We’ll look everywhere. It’ll be easy in the daytime.” He picked her up and hugged her again.

  A flashlight clicked on inside the tent. “Okay, kiddos,” Liz said. “Come inside and grab your toothbrush.”

  While Liz and the kids went through the nightly bedtime routine, albeit in a strange, dark place, Stewart rolled a fat, stumpy log near the tent entrance to sit on, threw more wood onto the fire, took a deep breath, and watched.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Stewart couldn’t be sure that he hadn’t nodded off a couple of times, but he always caught himself. Whenever that happened, he would rebuild the fire to a blaze as tall as him, and then walk a perimeter with the flashlight, swinging his arms to get the blood pumping.

  It was after 4:00 in the morning that a distant noise echoed up the mountainside, difficult to tell the distance. He knew only that it sounded almost like a car accident, like the crash of metal against metal. The noise must have come all the way from the highway, because he’d seen no evidence of any vehicles since they turned onto this road.

  The chill air seeped into his bones until he returned to the circle of the fire. As grayness slowly, imperceptibly replaced the darkness between the trees, Stewart walked one last patrol. Today he would look for high ground to find some cellular reception, call for a tow, and get the pickup back to town. He was saddened their adventure would be cut short, but he didn’t want to put his family into any further danger. Best just to go home and keep looking for a job.

  After about half an hour, as the grayness brightened, Liz emerged from the tent, rubbing her eyes and stretching. She looked so beautiful with her hair disheveled, so vibrant even half-bleary from sleep. She came over, sat in his lap, and snuggled up to him. Her warmth was so welcome after a night spent chilled on one side and roasted on the other.

  “Everything quiet?” she said.

  He nodded and hugged her close. “I still can’t get any reception, so I’m going to look for some high ground and try to find some. We must be in some sort of bowl.”

  “We’ll sit tight here until you get back,” she said. “It’ll be just like a day at the park or something.”

  “I don’t think whatever those things were will bother you in the daylight,” he said. “All of the weird stuff has been at night, or dawn.”

  “When are you leaving?”

  “Soon. If I go too soon, the tow services might not be open for the day.”

  “Have I told you how brave you were last night?” She looked up into his eyes.

  He shrugged.

  “You could have been in the toilet with us, hiding until they went away,” she said.

  “I’m not sure that would have helped.”

  “Maybe not, but it never once crossed your mind to do anything but defend us with your life.” She stroked his stubbled cheek.

  It was true.

  She kissed him on the mouth, warm and soft. His heartbeat surged, and blood pounded in his ears as he squeezed her close. The urge to wake the kids up, kick them out of the tent, and send them on a little hike for about half an hour rose up within him, but he controlled that, and just held her, and let her hold him.

  ***

  Hunter rolled out of his sleeping bag to the sounds of activity outside, and the smell of bacon and eggs frying.

  Mouth watering and stomac
h roaring at the smell of breakfast, he crawled over Cassie’s sprawled form. Cassie moaned and dragged the back of her hand across her face before she subsided again into motionlessness.

  Outside, he found his mom squatting beside the rack she had arranged over the fire, stirring a big skillet full of bacon and scrambled eggs.

  “Good morning!” she said with a smile. She stretched out an arm and beckoned him into it. He sidled up and accepted the warm hug.

  “Where’s Dad?”

  “He already took off to call a tow truck.”

  “Oh.” He tried not to sound disappointed. He’d been hoping his dad would invite him along.

  “Your dad told me to tell you before he left. It’s your job to protect me and Cassie if the coyotes and goblins come back.”

  His voice brightened. “Really?”

  “Yes, really. He left you the hatchet and you still have that snazzy hunting knife he made you, right?”

  He nodded vigorously. “And they showed us some cool weapon moves in taekwondo!”

  She rubbed his back. Then he bounced off toward the toilet.

  As he approached it, he spotted something lying on the ground a few paces away, a splash of light-colored cloth leaning against the base of a tree. He walked closer. Cassie’s dolls sat propped against the tree as if they had been placed there. On closer inspection, he saw their dresses were torn and stained with dirt and a few spots of rusty brown. The ruined dresses would make Cassie very unhappy, but she’d be glad to get them back.

  He picked them up, caught for a moment in their sky-blue eyes and flawless cheeks, then he carried them back to the campsite.

  “Hey, Cassie!” he called. “Look what I found!”

  As he approached the fire, Mom’s eyes widened and she gasped. “Where did you find them?”

  He pointed. “Over by the outhouse, by a tree.”

  Cassie crawled out of the tent, rubbing her eyes. She spotted the dolls in Hunter’s hands instantly, gasped, and came running, eyes glimmering with relief.

  “Oh! My! Gosh!” She seized them and hugged them to her chest.

  “Found them over by the outhouse,” Hunter said.