Henry scrambled to his feet, grabbing the skillet as he did. The monster’s shrieks roused Bennett from his drunken stupor and he kneeled cringing and he screamed for God as a figure burst out of the shadows toward him. It was Henry.
Henry scooped up a panful of glowing coals. “You bastard. You goddamned bastard,” he yelled and rushed back into the darkness where the thing writhed and bellowed and slapped at its burning flesh. And swinging the skillet like a maul, Henry brought it, with its cargo of glowing coals, onto the beast’s head, and the coals hissed on its skin, many sticking in the slime that covered its body. And the beast rose to its feet, reeling in terror, and struck out blindly for the forest. Its bellow echoing down the canyons as it ran. Henry returned to the fire and sat down. From a distant canyon the beast bellowed again. Bennett kneeled on the other side of the fire staring at Henry, bewildered, his senses sharpened by fear, though he was still drunk. The stench lifted off of the camp and Henry spoke:
“I’m going to get wood. You pitch a tent. We’re going to get Lucius warm.”
“You can’t go out there with that thing waiting.”
Henry thought a second. “I can do any fucking thing I want,” he said slowly disappeared into the drizzle and the darkness.
“Don’t go,” Bennett pleaded. “Don’t leave me alone,” he screamed to no avail.
In the morning, Henry made a litter with poles he fashioned from some alders and a sleeping bag.
Bennett sat with his head in his hands next to the fire. Twice, before they broke camp, they heard the beast bellow in pain. It was still out there, holed up somewhere, licking its wounds.
Then they left. It took six hours to carry Lucius out in the rain. Even with Henry’s growing strength, Lucius was a heavy load and they stopped frequently. Lucius, feverish now, slipped in and out of delirium and several times Henry stopped and let Bennett assure his best friend they were bringing him to safety..
“Where do you think it came from?” Bennett asked on the trail.
“I don’t know.”
“What do you think it is?”
“I don’t know,” Henry said.
“Do you think there are any more of them?”
“I don’t know.”
“I’m never coming back here again,” Bennett said.
Henry didn’t respond.
When they reached Caballo Blanco they found Mike’s and Tom’s packs where they left them. Both had been destroyed. Further down the trail they found Cory’s pack. It had been torn apart, and Mike’s hat was there on the ground with it. But they found no traces of the three men.
Hughes Creek had risen since the day before and under the stress of the load they waded across the knee deep water in the stream rather than risk the precarious balance needed to ford it on the rocks. They couldn’t drop Lucius.
The walk out of Cougars Camp was the hardest part, a nine-tenths of a mile of steady ascent.
When they reached the trucks they rested the litter on the ground and Henry retrieved the keys from under the rock where Mike had left them and he and Bennett fixed the Explorer to lay Lucius in the back.
Lucius opened his eyes.
“You okay, Lucius?” Henry asked.
Lucius stared at the roof of the Explorer. He didn’t know where he was.
“Bennett will have you at the hospital in a few minutes.”
He looked up at Henry and showed his first signs of recognition.
“We’re out?” he asked.
“We’re out,” Henry said.
“What about the rest of them?”
“Just us; you, me and Bennett,” Henry said.
“What was it?”
Henry didn’t answer.
Lucius closed his eyes. “God,” he whispered.
Henry got the bag from under the seat and checked its contents — the gun, the holster and a box of fifty cartridges. He loaded the gun and put the box of cartridges in his pocket. He loosened his belt and started to put the gun and holster on. He put on a poncho he found in the Explorer.
“Go down 44 to the town,” he said. “I saw a hospital on the left, just before the turnoff for Route 160. Run the heater on high to keep Lucius warm.”
“What are you gonna do?” Bennett asked.
Henry hitched up his belt. “When you get in cell phone range, call 911 and let them know you’re coming. Lucius needs every second you can buy him. You’re going to have to tell the police what happened, too.”
“What are you doing? You can’t go back down there.”
“Make sure you’re careful of your driving. Watch out for bumps. Just keep Lucius comfortable.” He shut the passenger’s side door and started walking toward the gate.
Bennett leaned across the seat and rolled the window down. “You’re crazy, Henry.”
“Get out of here, Bennett. Every minute is crucial to Lucius.”
“I’m not leaving without you.”
“I’ll see you in a few days. Now beat it.”
“You don’t have to do this, Henry. They’ll have armed parties up here soon enough.”
“I hope not — at least not soon. Now get going. Every second you can cut off the trip out of these mountains increases Lucius’ chances.”
“Then come with us. Help me.”
“Two of us can’t drive this thing any faster than one of us can. Get going. Your best friend needs you to get him to medical help fast.”
“You can’t kill that thing with a handgun.”
“You’ve never seen me shoot one of these things.”
The rain and wind picked up as Henry climbed over the gate. He would have to sight the gun in with a few shots. But he could hardly wait to get back to Crawfish Creek and start another fire. The kind of fire men love and animals fear. Then he’d dry out, have a meal…
“But what are you going to do when you get back up there?” Bennett yelled.
Henry paused for a second and looked back and yelled, “I’m going huntin’.”
“What should I tell them?”
“Who?”
“Your wife, people at work, they’re gonna want to know.”
“Tell them, when they go camping, always bring a gun and a skillet.”
“Bring what? Henry, come back!”
But Henry couldn’t hear him over the wind and the rain.
Novels by John Silveira
Danielle Kidnapped
Danielle is a strong-willed and resourceful 16-year-old girl, at the dawn of a new ice age, who becomes homicidal in order to keep herself and her six-month-old sister alive.
http://amzn.to/2gduKKv
The Devil You Know
Gordon Piston isn’t sure if the reason he won a woman’s heart was because she loved him, or if it was because he sold his soul to the devil. And who is the devil? He’s a fast-talking scarlet colored, horned, cloven-hoofed beast who spits out jokes, calls himself Elvis, and has more problems than Gordon.
http://amzn.to/2fOWXuc
Other short stories by John Silveira
Crazy Betty
Betty is crazy, and Miles will discover having a crazy woman in his car has unexpected consequences — especially after he’s stopped by a cop. But there’s more to Betty than meets the eye.
http://amzn.to/2g13diE
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