Clay went over and opened the bedroom door enough to peek inside. Blu was fast asleep on the bed, curled up beside Casey; the toddler snuggled in his red one-piece sleep pajamas with the sewed-on booties and his nightcap pulled down around his ears.
Mia brought Ethan a mug of coffee which he drank standing by the fireplace. She went over and joined Clay, still watching his son sleeping peacefully.
“He’s really something,” Mia whispered.
“I know. He’s our boy.”
“True. But I was talking about Blu.”
Clay gave Mia a questioning look.
“Before you go off with Uncle Ethan tomorrow, there’s a dead rattler under our car.”
“What?”
But before Mia could answer, Ethan came over and said in a low voice, “Blu, get up. Time to go.”
The coonhound opened his eyes and lay there for a few seconds before budging then got up slowly so as not to disturb Casey. Blu stepped gingerly across the mattress, jumped down on the floor, and padded out of the room.
Ethan put his empty mug on the table and went over to the front door to retrieve his jacket off the wall hook.
“Thank you for the fine meal,” he said to Mia.
“You’re welcome.”
“Clay, better get some rest. I’ll be coming for you bright and early,” Ethan said as he opened the front door, let Blu go first, and closed the door as he went out.
Casey began to cry from the other room.
“That boy. He’s going to drain me dry,” Mia said.
“Yeah, but he’ll grow up to be big and strong.”
“That so.” Mia reached up and pinched his nipple through his shirt.
“Hey!”
“Be nice if you could pitch in.”
“I don’t think so.” Clay yawned. “I’m going to sleep good tonight.”
“You and me, both.”
8
Caleb awoke from a drunken stupor and sat up in his bunk when he heard what sounded like a large animal howl. He was still in his grungy work clothes, the same sweat-stained shirt, and overalls stinking of pig. He felt around the floor in the dark. He found one mud-caked boot, put it on, then came across the other shoe and pulled that one on.
Pushing off the bunk, he staggered across the small converted feed shed that Rolf had provided for his hired hand, and opened the door to a moonlit nightscape.
From where he stood, he could see the outlines of Rolf’s house and the barn, the dark spiky treetops against the less gloomy skyline, and the shadowy layout of the hog pens where most of the swine had bunched together.
He grabbed his double-barrel shotgun that was leaning against the wall by the door. Opening the breech, he made sure it was loaded with two 12-gauge cartridges, and snapped the gun closed. He grabbed some more shells and put them in his pocket.
As he stepped outside, he could feel the chill cut through his bones and was debating going back and getting his coat when he heard something moving around over by the barn.
He cocked back both hammers and walked toward the structure, listening for the slightest sound. As he got closer, he could see that one of the barn doors was open.
And then he heard a shuffling behind the door.
Caleb drew closer, raised the shotgun.
“Hold your fire.”
“Rolf?” Caleb reset the hammers and broke open the choke so as not to accidentally shoot his boss.
Rolf stepped out of the barn. He was holding his Smith & Wesson .357 by his side. “Two of the sows are dead.”
“So you heard it, too.”
“I heard it. We better check the pens.”
They kept a watchful eye on the woods as they started across the yard to the fifty pigs corralled together. An agitated boar brushed up against a large stag, shoving it into the fence. That created a disturbance amongst the other pigs as they let out harsh guttural whines, almost like they were throwing up, while the other wailing swine snorted and squealed.
Caleb and Rolf were too distracted by the clamoring pigs to hear the two dark figures coming out of the trees.
Each man was attacked mercilessly from behind and tackled to the ground.
Rolf was shoved facedown. He struggled to get up, but was pinned down and couldn’t move.
He raised his revolver to shoot the thing on top of him. His arm was bent so far back that his elbow snapped and the gun fell out of his hand onto the dirt.
A powerful fist came down like a jackhammer and smashed in the back of his skull.
Caleb was flat on his back, and watched helplessly, as the fierce beast relentlessly mangled his boss.
He gazed up at the face of the creature straddling him.
Even in the dim moonlight, he could see its humanoid face shrouded with brown hair, the black-orbed eyes staring down. Its hot, fetid breath stunk worse than any hog wallow.
Caleb turned his head, and as the other monster, the black-furred one, got up and stood over Roth’s mutilated body, another creature bellowed from the woods, summoning the beasts.
The massive brute that was bent over Caleb placed its huge hands on Caleb’s chest, rolled its shoulders, and pushed down, collapsing his sternum and driving his splintering ribcage into his heart and lungs.
Caleb’s last vision was of the two stooped hulks, lumbering by the hysterical pigs in the pens, as they disappeared into the woods.
9
Casey woke Mia up with his crying. This was surprising, as Clay was snoring like a locomotive chugging through a mountain pass. She climbed out of bed and threw on her bathrobe and slippers. The cabin was freezing.
Mia leaned over the crib. “You just hold on, and Mommy will see to you in a minute.” She shuffled out of the bedroom and went to work, warming up the cabin. The fire in the hearth was still aglow with orange embers. She placed a couple logs in and used a small bellows to fan the embers into a rising flame that licked around the wood like an orange serpent.
She now had enough light to walk over to the kitchen. After pumping up the kerosene lamp, she lit the wick, illuminating a good portion of the interior. The wood-burning stove was still warm. She shoved more wood inside and stoked the flame under the cooking surface where a pot full of water was beginning to steam.
Mia went back into the bedroom and changed Casey, who was only wet. She bundled him back up in his red sleeper and nightcap, carried him into the kitchen, and placed him in his highchair. He continued to fuss, pawing at his ear.
“Here, suck on this,” Mia said. She sat down at the kitchen table and gave Casey a teething ring that she had dabbed with drops of her own homeopathic remedy of boiron camilia. He immediately took to it and worked his cheeks to draw the soothing medicinal concoction into his gums.
Mia heard footfalls outside. She glanced over at the clock on the mantle. It was only just after four-thirty in the morning and wouldn’t be light for another hour, so why was Uncle Ethan up so early? Surely they weren’t going to work in the dark. Whatever the reason, she thought she better wake Clay up. Then she’d put on some coffee, maybe fix some breakfast for the two of them.
She looked at Casey. He was content, sucking on his pacifier.
Getting up from the table, she stepped over to the open bedroom door. “Clay, wake up. Uncle Ethan is here.”
“What?”
“You better get up.”
Clay sat up in bed and rubbed his eyes. “What time is it?”
“You don’t want to know. I’m putting on some coffee.”
“Coffee sounds good.” He swung his legs over the side of the bed and reached for his clothes draped on the side of Casey’s crib.
Mia walked over to the front door. She could hear a scratching on the other side of the wood. She was looking forward to seeing Blu, eternally grateful that Uncle Ethan thought enough about them to have his faithful dog stay and watch over them while he and Clay were away for the day.
“I’m coming.” Mia unlocked the bolt and swung open the door.
The thing standing on the porch roared.
Mia jumped back and screamed.
“What the hell…?” Clay bolted out of the bedroom. He took one good look at the giant creature standing outside the doorway and raced for the Winchester lever-action hanging over the fireplace mantle. He yanked the rifle down off the stone face and ratcheted the lever. He raised the carbine, took aim, and pulled the trigger.
But nothing happened. The gun wasn’t loaded. Clay reached for a box of ammunition.
The beast ducked its head and stomped into the cabin.
Mia backed into the kitchen, standing in front of Casey to protect her baby.
After clearing the doorway, the brown-furred creature stood erect. It was between seven and eight feet tall and had to weigh over six hundred pounds. At first glance, Mia thought it was a brown bear as it was covered with thick hair, but its upper torso and shoulders were not as round but more manlike.
Clay fumbled with the box of bullets, extracting a single cartridge to slip into the feed on the side plate.
“Hurry, Clay!” Mia shouted as she saw her husband struggling to load the weapon. Casey started screaming at the top of his lungs, frightened by the sudden intrusion.
The beast turned and moved toward her and Casey.
Mia reached down, picked up the boiling pot of water by the handle and tossed the scalding liquid into the creature’s face. The animal howled, stepped back, and turned away.
Clay loaded the bullet and levered the Winchester.
The beast heard the noise and swung its arm blindly.
Clay tried to sidestep out of the way but was unable to avoid the powerful blow that sent him flying up against the stone hearth. Still conscious, he groaned, trying to get back on his feet.
Mia still held the pot by the handle. She swung with all her might and struck the monstrous beast on the back of its shoulder. “Get out of here!” she screamed.
Another creature burst into the cabin. It was gray and hunched over, almost moving on all fours. With a fast-galloped stride, the animal rammed into Mia, knocking her onto the floor. A large hand reached down and lifted Casey out of his highchair.
Tucking the boy under its arm, the beast loped out of the cabin, followed by the other creature. They thundered out onto the porch and clambered down the steps.
“They took Casey!” Mia shouted.
Clay scampered to his feet with the rifle in his hand.
Mia was out the door, leaping down the stairs.
“Casey!” She ran faster than she had ever run in her life. Her slippers fell off and she was barefoot, dashing over the rough ground. Sharp rocks cutting up the soles of her feet but nothing would stop her. The damn things had stolen her baby. It didn’t matter that they were six times her size and could snap her like a twig; she was going to stop them no matter what.
They were already in the woods. She could hear them breaking through the brush, charging through the thick timber, they were getting away…
Mia was grabbed from behind and lifted off her feet.
10
Blu stood with his front paws on the window glass and growled at the night.
“What’s gotten into you?” Ethan said, rolling over in bed.
The agitated dog began to scratch at the glass.
“Hey, stop that.” Ethan sat up.
Blu let out a long, coonhound howl.
Ethan crawled across the bed, pushed Blu aside, and looked out the window.
It was pitch dark, but he could see the cabin below. A light was shining in the window and the front door was wide open. He could see shadows dancing about inside the cabin.
And then he heard a terrible roar.
“Jesus,” he said and jumped out of bed. He didn’t bother to get dress, ran into the front room, wearing only his long johns and socks, and grabbed his rifle. He threw open the trailer door and jumped down to the ground.
He jogged down the hill, careful not to slip and fall. Blu was right by his side as they raced toward the cabin.
Mia screamed.
He was fifty yards away, when two enormous figures lurched out of the cabin, shambled down the stairs, and stomped toward the woods.
Ethan was almost to the steps when Mia came racing out after the two intruders. Blu ran up the stairs just as Clay was coming out.
“They took Casey!” Clay yelled, stumbling onto the porch.
Ethan darted around the cabin and dashed into the trees. He could hear Mia up ahead, racing across the fallen leaves. He sprinted after her, almost tempted to lose the rifle awkwardly swinging by his side, but he knew that wouldn’t be wise with what was up ahead.
It was when he was running between two thickly trunk trees that he finally caught up to Mia, and snatched her up off the ground.
***
“Put me down!” Mia yelled, struggling to worm herself out of Ethan’s hooked arm. Once they were inside the cabin, Ethan finally released her. She tried to run for the door, but Ethan blocked her path.
“You’re not going out there!”
“Dammit, get out of my way!”
“You’ll never find them in the dark.”
Mia looked over at Clay who was standing in the middle of the room, loading bullets one at a time into the Winchester.
“Uncle Ethan, we have to go after them. They took our son,” Clay said.
“No one’s going anywhere. Not yet,” Ethan told them both.
“Then call the sheriff on the short wave so they can start a search.”
“That’s not going to happen.”
Blu looked worried with everyone yelling and came over to sit next to Ethan.
“And why’s that?” Mia asked with a venomous tone.
“What are you going to tell them?”
“The truth!” Clay said.
“And what is that?”
Clay and Mia looked at one another, not certain how to answer.
Then Mia finally said, “That bigfoot broke into our house and stole our baby.”
Ethan gave her a wry grin. “Do you hear how crazy that sounds? You tell the authorities that, and the first people they are going to suspect are you two. Happens all the time. Any parent stupid enough to make up a cockamamie story like that, is usually guilty as sin.”
“Maybe Uncle Ethan’s right,” Clay said to Mia.
“You know I’m right,” Ethan said.
“So, what are we supposed to do?” Mia asked. “Sit here and do nothing?”
“I didn’t say that. First light, I’m going up that mountain and find your boy.”
“Well, I’m going with you,” Clay said.
“Me, too,” Mia chimed in.
“Not on your lives. You know how dangerous that mountain is?”
“It doesn’t matter. That’s our boy,” Clay said.
“You can’t stop us,” Mia said, stepping over and standing next to Clay in a desperate show of solidarity.
Ethan hung his head and looked down at his dirty socks. “You have to prepare yourselves that Casey may already be dead. Those things are vicious.”
“You knew about them?” Clay asked.
“I did.” Ethan raised his head and looked at both Clay and Mia.
“Did you know this would happen?” Mia asked in disbelief.
“No, no. I never imagined, it’s the God’s truth,” Ethan said, his eyes misty. “I would never have invited you to stay here if I thought there was any threat. They’ve always kept to themselves. Something must have happened to make them come down off the mountain.”
“You know, Uncle Ethan, no matter what, we’re going after them,” Clay said adamantly.
“And you’re not stopping us,” Mia added.
“All right then,” Ethan said in a resigning voice. “Looks like we’re all going.”
11
It was near daybreak when Ethan returned from the trailer, carrying a rucksack, and pushing open the cabin door with his shoulder as he came in. He was dressed in a heavy coat, a flannel s
hirt, trousers, and hiking boots, and wore a pair of leather gloves and a fur hat with earflaps. He dropped the pack by the door, let the strap of his gun slide off his shoulder, and leaned his hunting rifle against the wall.
Clay and Mia were already dressed. Blu sat in front of the fireplace watching everyone work.
Mia was in the kitchen, busily putting some food together, while Clay stuffed some clothes into a knapsack.
Ethan went over to the center of the room, stripped off the blanket covering the trunk. He knelt in front of the footlocker and inserted a key into the padlock. Opening the clasps, he raised the lid.
Inside the trunk was a collection of handguns and knives with some other things.
“Keep in mind that we’re going to want to travel light. A change of clothes is fine. And plenty of socks,” Ethan said.
Clay looked inside his rucksack and took out a shirt.
“Is this all right?” Mia asked, pointing to the foodstuff that she had compiled on the tabletop.
“Biscuits, corn cakes, dry food, no cans,” Ethan said glancing over. “There’s a canteen on the shelf you can fill.”
Clay brought his bag over to the front door and put it on the floor. He grabbed another sack and went over to the kitchen. He held the bag open while Mia gathered the items off the table and stuffed them inside.
“We’ll need something of Casey’s for Blu,” Ethan said.
Mia ran into the bedroom and came out with the baby blanket from Casey’s crib.
“That’ll do.” Ethan rummaged inside the footlocker, deciding which weapon to bring.
Clay walked over and looked down at the assortment of firearms. “That’s a regular arsenal, you have there.”
“Never hurts to be prepared.” Ethan grabbed a brown leather belt with a holster and pouches with magazine clips, and put it around his waist. He took a government issue Colt .45 out of the footlocker and slipped it in the holster. “Here, strap this on,” Ethan said, and handed Clay a fixed blade knife in a leather sheath.
Ethan chose a hunting knife with a ten-inch blade for himself.
“Take this Remington thirty-eight.”
Clay slipped the pistol into his coat pocket.
The Beasts Of Stoneclad Mountain Page 4
