Skinwalkers (10 page)

A putrid stink filled the boy’s nostrils. He turned to see a dead cow lying on the creek bank, half in the water. The moon’s light revealed that the portion of the beast’s body not submerged was covered in buzzing flies.
 
The boy turned away just as he wretched.

He had to get to the other side of the creek. Maybe the dogs would be able to pick up his scent on the opposite shore, maybe not. He decided he’d take his chances. Anything to get away from the dead cow and its rank smell.

The boy took a step and had to stifle a yell as the rock beneath his foot gave way, causing his ankle to buckle under. He dropped to the ground, one hand over his mouth, the other at his ankle. Through the din of pain, he heard the dogs’ barking. They were close. Within fifty yards, probably. The boy cursed. What was he to do? He couldn’t run, but there was no way in hell he was going back to the cotton fields. Better to smash his head open with a rock from the creek bed. The boy picked up a stone, wondering if he could strike quick enough and hard enough to end himself with one blow.

The boy caught the stench of the dead cow again and gagged.
What a way to die
, he thought.
Next to a fly-eaten cow carcass
. Then an idea seized him, one he found repulsive. But if he had to choose between it, the cotton fields, or certain death, it was really no choice at all.

The boy dropped the stone and crawled up to the corpse. He turned his head but felt bile rise into his throat as he lifted the dead cow’s ample belly from the shore. Soaked with water, it felt like a bag of rocks. But he was strong, and right now his adrenaline made him all but Herculean. The boy strained and pushed as maggots dropped from the cow’s bulk to squirm in the sand. When he’d lifted its belly as far off shore as possible, he turned his back into the fur-covered fat and wriggled beneath it. The cow’s rotten blubber covered him like a blanket, but his own body had caused a slight gap to open between the dead cow’s belly and the ground. Through it, he saw the settling waters of the creek and heard the baying of the fast-approaching hounds.

In no time, the dogs were scrambling down the slope leading to the creek bank. He felt them fall upon the cow carcass. Two of the dogs splashed into the creek bed to root at the cow’s belly. The dogs wormed their muzzles into the gap. But much to the boy’s relief, they could press in no farther. Stuck beneath cow’s blubber, the dogs couldn’t open their jaws to bark or bite, so they stood there snarling at the smell of him. The boy whimpered as he felt the dog’s hot, fetid breath wash over him.

“
What are you doing there?“ one of the approaching white men called. “Get on out of there!“

The boy felt things that squirmed and wriggled climb onto his body. He clasped his hand over his mouth to keep from screaming.

“
That dead cow
ain’t
fit to eat, you stupid mutt,“ another man said. The boy heard the men enter the creek bed. Seconds later, the dogs’ muzzles disappeared from beneath the cow, yanked away by their masters. “Come on! We got to find us that runaway nigger.“

After what seemed like an eternity, the men and their dogs left, heading on down the creek to continue their search in vain. But the sound of the dogs’ barking and the sight of the yellowed fangs within their snarling, wrinkled muzzles would stay with the boy for the rest of his life.

T
he bounty hunter shook himself. He was no longer a boy trapped beneath a dead cow. But the white men’s dogs were trying to kill him again. But that wasn’t true either. The fur-covered creatures invading the saloon weren’t the white men’s dogs. They looked and acted like coyotes—and men—and yet they were neither. Regardless, people were dying and if he didn’t act quickly, he’d join them.

The bounty
hunter’s
Henry rifle boomed into action, dispatching beast after beast as they spilled through the saloon’s bat-wing doors. He was pleased to see a bullet ended them almost as easily as it did a human. On the trail of that thought, came another:
What an abominable horror that would be—if they didn’t die like regular folk, but needed something special—like some magic charm or ore—to kill them.

The creatures continued to attack. Some galloped straight for the soldiers while others scampered up the walls with impossible speed and agility to drop onto their prey.

From the corner of his eye, the bounty hunter saw the townspeople follow his lead and take up arms against the attackers for both good and ill.
Jimbo
and Wilson successfully unloaded their pistols into several of the coyote creatures, sending them yowling and twitching back to whatever hell they came from. Hank was not so lucky. He reached for his gun and it fired while still in its holster. The bullet struck the toe of his boot and he dropped to the floor. He grabbed his foot and yelled in pain while Robby struggled to protect them both with cover fire. The bounty hunter halted firing when the captain burst from the fog to sprint by him, bloodied and screaming.

Seeming to perceive the damage the bounty hunter was doing, one monster left the carcass it was feeding on and charged, its lupine form closing the distance between them in two massive leaps. The coyote-thing’s muzzle opened impossibly wide to reveal massive, razor-sharp teeth. They closed over the end of the bounty
hunter’s
rifle and the head attached to the jaws disappeared as the gun unloaded. Each of the creature’s yellow, serpentine eyes flew across the room in opposite directions, ropes of bloody nerves trailing behind.

Two more beasts advanced to replace their fallen brother. The bounty hunter fired. His heart sank as he heard not the ear-numbing boom of his Henry rifle, but the metallic, mocking click of an empty bullet chamber.

The coyote monsters seemed to smile in recognition of the sound. Their muzzles peeled back to grotesque proportions to showcase rows of horrible, jagged fangs. The bounty hunter flung his empty rifle at the beast closest to him. The monster flinched, causing its brother to hesitate, allowing the bounty hunter time to draw his revolvers.
 
The bounty hunter unloaded both cartridges in a hail of fiery explosions. They coyote men dropped lifeless at his feet.

The bounty hunter raced to reload his guns as more of the monsters charged. They seemed to come in endless waves, a new line of horrific visions stampeding through the mist to replace the one before it.

Then time ran out for the bounty hunter as one of beasts struck him, sending him flailing through the air to land beside Maxine and her son. He’d had the sense to hold on to his revolvers, but with the guns still half empty, the bounty hunter knew the action was wasted.

The thing pounced and, in that breath-long moment of eternity, the bounty hunter knew he was going to die and wondered how things had come to be for him as they were. But he was spared as the doc’s scalpel twirled through the air and sank into the monstrosity’s eye with a gush of blood. The coyote-thing cringed and wavered in its trajectory. Its new course caused the monster to crash beside the bounty hunter. As it did, his revolvers erased the monster’s life.

We can’t defend this place,
the bounty hunter thought.
We stay here, we’re dead.

The only option available sprang into his mind:
The mission.

The bounty hunter leapt to his feet. He grabbed Maxine by her arm. “Come on!“

Then he yelled to the room at large. “
Out the back!
To the mission!
“

“W
ho’s that tripping over my bridge?“

“Stop it, Luke!“

“Don’t be such a baby, J.T.“

“Yeah, don’t be such a baby, J.T.“

“I’m not a baby!“

“Cry baby! Cry baby!
Wah
!
Wah
!
Wah
!“

“I said stop it, Luke!“ Farnsworth lunged at his older brother. Luke dodged and J.T. went tumbling to the ground in front of his father’s wood shed. J.T.’s shin struck a rock as he landed and he howled in pain.

“That’s it, cry baby!“ Toby said. “Cry!“

“Cry you stupid …“ Mark trailed off, groping for a clever put down. However, he was anything but clever, so he went with the tried and true. “Baby!“

J.T. sat up and inspected his knee. The rock had cut through his pants leg and taken the hide of his shin so that it was a red mess. J.T. was the smallest of the four boys and paid for it daily. To add insult to injury, they knew what an active imagination he had and so constantly hounded him with tales of monsters and ghouls. When Luke really wanted to terrify him, he brought up the troll from Billy Goats Gruff.

J.T. had slept little since his father had told them that story. He spent his nights awake and trembling beneath sheets pulled up to his chin, knowing without question at any moment he would hear the troll’s voice echoing up from under his bed. He’d see slimy, wart-covered hands creeping over the foot of his blankets. The troll’s yellow eyes would appear like twin moons to glare at him as though he were a piece of meat. The troll would smile at him, revealing its black fangs, the pieces of rotted flesh from its last victim still wedged between them.

Then J.T. would scream at the top of his lungs, awakening everyone in the house. His mother would come in terrified, trying to ask him questions only to be pushed away by his father for a disciplinary session with his belt.

J.T. looked up and scowled as the boys laughed at the tears draining from his eyes. “Oh yeah? Just go ahead and laugh. You’ll pay for it with your souls!“ J.T. rose to his knees and stretched his arms out in supplication. He rolled his eyes back in his head and began to chant nonsense at the top of his lungs.

Luke stopped laughing. “Cut that out.“

 
J.T.’s chanting grew louder.

“What’s he doing?“ Mark asked, fright in his voice.

“Quit fooling, J.T.,“ Luke said. “I mean it!“

What’s good for the goose
, J.T. thought.

J.T. stopped chanting. His eyes snapped forward and he grimaced as he inhaled deeply. “Oh dark goddess Shiva!“

“Hey, that
ain’t
funny,“ Toby said. “Make him stop.“

“Queen of the flies and destroyer of life,“ J.T. continued, “I call upon your unholy powers!“

“I mean it, J.T.,“ Luke said. “Not another word!“

J.T. threw his arms forward and glared at the boys. “Take these boys’ souls for your own. Luke Reginald Farnsworth. Tobias
Finnegan!And
Mark Hodge!“

Mark’s eyes grew wide. His lower lip trembled. J.T. howled at the top of his lungs. The he slouched as if all life had drained out of him. A moment later, he jumped as if waking from a trance.

Mark began to cry. “He just took our souls!“

“Are we not going to get to go to heaven now, Luke?“ Toby asked, absolute terror in his eyes.

Luke stood frowning down at his brother. “He
ain’t
stole your souls you stupid shitheads. He was just fooling.“

“Think what you want,“ J.T. said. “It’s your chance to take.“

“We’re going to hell!“ Mark bawled. “We’re going to hell!“

Luke strode forward and backhanded J.T. across the jaw. J.T.’s head rocked backwards and he fell onto his back.

“You’re lying!“ Luke screamed and then kicked his brother in the ribs. “I know you! Always fooling! And you’re fooling now, too!“ Luke kicked at his brother, catching his back, chest and even his face. Toby and Mark joined in.

“Pick him up,“ Luke commanded. Luke walked to the door of the woodshed, lifted the latch, and then opened it. J.T. looked up to see darkness waiting on the door’s other side. “Toss him in.“

“No,“ J.T. moaned as Mark and Toby took him by the arms and dragged him toward the shed. “I’m sorry. I was just fooling. I didn’t mean—“ The boys heaved J.T. through the doorway. “No!“ J.T. tumbled into a heap on the hard wooden floor. “He’ll get me! The troll will get me!“ J.T. looked up and saw his brother’s scowling face. Then the door closed and darkness engulfed him.