The Lurking Season

by Kristopher Rufty

  The snow was trampled here. Brooke saw dozens of tiny footprints going in all directions. Plenty of evidence that something had happened, but nothing remained.

  Soon she’d moved beyond the huts and left them behind.

  Not even a peep from anybody. Where had they gone in a hurry? And where was Maggie? The last image she had of her little sister was of her backside walking away from her after Brooke had been put in the gown. The short burlap dress stiff as her buttocks shifted behind it.

  Seemed like weeks ago, though it was only yesterday. Could be two days ago by now. She had no clue what time it was.

  Brooke had come back hoping to rescue Maggie. In her mind, she’d envisioned her sister smiling with joy because she’d come. She should have known it was an inane fantasy to think Maggie could be saved.

  It was hard to remember better times between them. Had there ever really been any?

  Sure there had, she assumed. They didn’t bicker too much, and for the most part they…what?

  Existed together.

  That was about all. They shared a home, parents and a lifestyle provided for them. She recalled those nights at Garberina’s Homemade Ice Cream for milkshakes. Memories like that seemed unreal, as if she’d watched them take place in a movie featuring a somewhat happy family as its main characters.

  Looking back on it now, she realized how much all of them had been going through the motions, acting in a way they knew they should be. They weren’t doing it because they wanted to; it was just how families like theirs were supposed to behave. Now she wondered if any of them truly knew how to love each other.

  Daddy did.

  She couldn’t wait to see him again. Even Mom. How would they react to just her coming home? Would they be able to accept their youngest daughter chose a feral pack of minimonsters over them? She wondered if her parents would have the same kind of numb acceptance as she did.

  Brooke decided not to tell them. If she got back home and Maggie wasn’t with her, she would lie and say she didn’t know what happened to her. She could spare them at least that much.

  Reaching the dirt road, Brooke decided to let Maggie have this, if she truly wanted it.

  Her feet dragged the ground, bouncing over the ribbed sections of dirt. She left gullies in the snow as she walked. Far away, the wind seemed to scream. It was a hollow cry that quickly faded away. Brooke kept walking, not pausing to listen. After a few minutes, she reached a curve in the road and followed it around a thicket of trees.

  The cars were buried under the snow that looked as if it were floating in the darkness. Seeing them shocked her with a second wind of adrenaline. She ran the rest of the way, stopping when she reached Piper’s SUV.

  The windshield was carpeted in powdery white. She couldn’t see through it. The windows on the doors were the same way, the snow adhering to it like a white moss spreading across the glass.

  She didn’t think anyone was hiding inside. The snow would have fallen off the windows had the doors been opened. Even if there was somebody in there, they couldn’t have seen her coming. She snuck past the SUV, checking for footprints as she went by. She saw none. Nobody was in there.

  The Mustang was parked at an angle beside the trees. She could see her skinny footpath leading away from the vehicle as she approached. She looked around the ground. Though it was dark, the snow was bright enough for her to see there weren’t any footprints other than her own from earlier. And those were being filled in with fresh snow. She spotted Piper’s larger set a little farther off.

  The others didn’t make it.

  Another windy scream filtered through the night, wavering as if coming from a bad connection. This time it sounded less like nature’s frigid cry and more as if it had come from a human’s mouth. A woman’s mouth.

  It was really far away. Sounded like getting out of your car at the lake and hearing all the merriment reverberating across the water.

  Brooke stood outside the Mustang, listening for more screams. They didn’t come.

  She turned back to the car, slipped her fingers under the car handle and pulled. The door didn’t want to budge. It made a noise like peeling tape from the roll when she finally got it to open. So cold out here the door was trying to freeze shut.

  She tossed in the shotgun first, then sat down in the seat with a groan. She pulled the door shut. Then pushed the Autolock button. There was a unified thock from both doors.

  The seatback pushed the thick coat up her body. In the rearview mirror, her head peeked from the neck space like a turtle coming out of its shell. She found the zipper and pulled it down.

  Brooke slid her fingers into the pocket and felt the cold ridges of Heather’s keys. Piper had taken them when Brooke had been hiding in the trunk. Now that Brooke had Piper’s coat, she also had the keys. If Heather was still alive later, Brooke planned on returning them to her. She tugged the set out. Flipping through keys, she found the one with a square head. Ford was imprinted in the metal. She slipped it into the ignition. She twisted the key and smiled as the engine roared.

  She cut on the windshield wipers. The blades raked the snow off the glass, leaving behind a few tiny strips of white. She found the switch for the lights and pulled it out. The headlights came on dim but quickly brightened. They lit a wide breadth in front of her.

  She wasn’t sure where those screams had come from. But she figured she could drive around until she found somebody.

  Brooke put the car in Drive and took her foot off the brake. The car rolled forward, the tires crunching through snow.

  Erin

  She’d gotten turned around so many times in the confusing cornfield she wasn’t surprised when she stumbled out of the woods behind the Carlson property. She stopped running where the field met the woods. Leaning forward, she braced her hands on her knees. Her mouth was dry and she had a horrible cramp in her side that made her stomach feel hot and pinched.

  Lifting her head, she peered at the property. Even in the dark she recognized the pale shape of the shed and the dull gleam of the chain-link fencing that made up the kennels behind it.

  Though she probably wasn’t any safer here, she was still relieved to find a location she was familiar with.

  She started jogging through the snow-carpeted field, the chains jangling with each step. She felt woozy from the loss of blood and the constant exertion it had taken to make it this far. The humps of her exposed buttocks burned as it flexed. Whenever a tattered flap of clothing brushed against a mound, it felt like a needle scraping her. Her skin was cold and tight, coated in gelid sweat, and seemed to stretch over her body like clothes that didn’t fit right.

  She looked behind her.

  And screamed once again when she saw the miniature mob exiting the woods, huddled together in a rabid swarm.

  Erin turned around and bent forward, head tilted back, as her arms thrashed and legs pumped. The chains from her feet slapped her legs, those on her wrists popping her sides. Even with the increased labor, she could tell it wasn’t making her go any faster. Not with the snow slipping under her feet and the additional weight caused by the chains.

  Her injured foot dropped down in a hole, the snow swallowing her leg to her shin. Her wound stung from the coldness of the snow. The jarring plunge almost made her fall, but she pulled her leg out and kept going. Now her foot hurt even more as she hustled along.

  The shed seemed to grow as she closed in on the rickety structure.

  Erin slammed into the chain-link fence. Her fingers slipped through the diamond patterns and gripped the wires. The bandage of husk was starting to pull back from her hand. A leaf flapped in the gentle breeze.

  She huffed for air, clouds of her breath drifting around her. Looking over her shoulder, she saw the mob was still pursuing her. Still shrieking and hooting.

  “Get the fuck away from me!”

  They kept co
ming, ignoring her pointless order. Enraged, Erin slapped the fence. The retort traveled down the linked web in a rattling wave.

  She started running again, this time moving much slower and feeling along the fence with her hand. Rounding the corner, she ran up the side of the kennel. There was a small area of darkness underneath the lean-to shelter joining the kennels to the shed.

  Hanging from the walls were various farming tools. She spotted a set of posthole diggers, a pitchfork, a shovel, a weed whacker and some saws.

  An ax seemed to glow in the dark as if a light shone down on it from the heavens.

  Her eyes grew with delight at the weapon supply. She hobbled into the shadowy entryway and was on her way to fetch the ax when she stumped the toe of her hurt foot on something hard.

  “Damn!”

  Pain blasted up her leg. Dropping to her knee, she reached down and gripped her throbbing toe. Even in the darkness she could see the toenail had been dislodged and was canted to the side like the cap of an opened Zippo lighter.

  She hissed through her clenched teeth as she pinched the nail between her thumb and forefinger.

  And yelled when she ripped the toenail off.

  The skin attached to the nail snapped like a rubber band.

  Tears welled in her eyes. What the hell did she kick?

  A metallic object sat on the ground. Its body was a bulky square with a curved handle on top. A leaf blower? When she saw the blade protruding from its front and the jagged bits circling it in a toothy pattern, she knew exactly what it was.

  She suddenly forgot about the pain in her foot. Forgot about how exhausted she was. Forgot about her hurt hand and the bite on her scalp that made her head feel as if she wore a hat of soreness that was slowly squeezing her skull.

  Her trembling hand reached for the handle, fingers curling over it. She pulled the heavy device toward her, turning it so the blade faced out. She gave it a gentle shake and smiled when she heard gasoline slosh around inside. Sounded quite full. Still holding the handle, she felt around the boxy frame until locating the pull.

  She wrapped the chains around her wrists to keep them out of the way.

  Then she gave the pull a hard yank. The engine puttered and quickly died. She reached out with the thumb of the hand gripping the handle and felt a metal switch. The choke. She pushed it all the way up.

  She yanked the cord again. The tiny engine sputtered like a clattering fart.

  Rising to a squat, she slid the tool between her legs. She pushed down on the handle, gritted her teeth and gave it another yank with all her might.

  The engine’s putter fired into a roar. She quickly found the safety throttle and squeezed it. The engine boomed, its din bouncing off the walls of the tightly enclosed shelter. Exhaust wafted out from the front, smothering the air with an odor of oil and gasoline.

  She stood up, heaving the hefty chain saw off the ground. She walked out from under the shelter, holding the massive tool in front of her, revving the engine with each step she took.

  A trail of exhaust ran out behind her as she walked around the kennels.

  The Haunchy swarm had stopped, gathering together. Obviously they’d heard the ruckus and were now tentative about attacking. Tiny heads turned as they communicated with each other. Erin assumed they were trying to decide if killing her was worth the risk of being dismembered.

  Evidently they decided it was, and rushed her.

  Erin started swinging the chain saw, sawing through miniscule bodies as if they were spindly trees. She cut Haunchies in half, twirled her arms and watched infant-sized heads fly. Blood sprayed her, coating her in thick juices, plastering her hair to her scalp, tangling it like dreads around her face.

  She kept swinging and cutting, leaving their dismembered pieces in her wake.

  Short arms with nubs of bone sticking out from the sinewy tips twitched in the snow.

  A pair of legs, still connected to the waist, minus a torso, ran around in circles until finally tangling with each other and falling. When the pelvis hit the ground, it spilled innards across the white earth.

  She saw its upper half crawling across the snow, leaving a smeary red trail behind it. Finally it stopped moving.

  There was one Haunchy left. It stood before her, gripping a miniature dagger in each hand, watching her with seething eyes.

  From its angle, the vision of Erin couldn’t have been any more intimidating. A woman drenched in blood as if she’d been swimming in it, clutching a monster chain saw with bloody hands and restraints as the gore-cleaved chain spun in a frenzy.

  The Haunchy looked as if it was about to attack, but instead dropped its weapons and turned to run. Its little feet slipped in the puddles of blood and fell down.

  Before it could get back up, Erin had already closed the distance between them and was standing over it.

  She kicked the little creature over onto its back. It held its arms up, pleading with its hands, along with the squeaky cries coming from its hideous mouth.

  Erin slowly lowered the blade, savoring its torment. It felt satisfying to see fear in its eyes. She relished its awareness of its looming death.

  She put the blade against its abdomen and squeezed the throttle. The chain whirled, ripping through the burlap clothing and sawing a canyon through its torso. Blood shot out, splashing her face and getting in her eyes. She blinked the blood away and pushed down even harder.

  The saw met its spine and snapped it.

  Erin screamed as she ran the spinning chain up and down, cutting the Haunchy into halves. The saw dug into the ground underneath the small body and jammed. The engine shut off. Though the saw was no longer running, Erin continued to scream and move the blade along its split body as if it were still doing damage.

  Her cries turned to sobs and she let the chain saw go. It hit the ground with a jingling thock.

  Erin stood up straight, bawling and out of breath as she looked around at the carnage she’d produced. Heaps of severed limbs, frayed burlap and sinewy messes surrounded her.

  For a moment there, Erin understood what it was like to be a savage species. She understood the pleasure maiming things could bring. Now it made her feel sick. Guilt consumed her as she studied the remnants of her killing spree. She didn’t regret what she’d done, but she knew she would never be able to fully forgive herself for it. Even if it was deserved, she’d never thought she could be the kind of person to retaliate in such a gruesome way.

  She rubbed her fingers across her eyes and flung the excess blood away. It took many deep breaths to calm her sobs, but she managed to get them down to a quiet weep.

  She was starting to feel slightly better.

  Then something sharp punched into the small of her back. Cold pierced her and twisted, yanking back out. The pain shot down her legs, stealing their strength, and she fell forward. Her body splashed in the blood. Even more saturated her face.

  Someone stabbed me!

  Pain spread upward and knotted between her shoulder blades. It took some effort, but she was able to roll onto her back. The pain was worse in this position, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to get back onto her stomach.

  A girl stood above her, a hunting knife gripped in her fist. The blade was wet with Erin’s blood. The child’s face was cloaked in shadows provided by the curtain of wild hair on either side of her face. She stood with a slight crouch in her posture, a hand caressing her side.

  Though it was dark, she could still see her teeth. Why did they look so…sharp?

  Each time Erin’s stomach flattened as she took in a breath, the slit in her back pinched her with pain.

  “I was going to be their queen…” The girl’s voice was soft, lacking any hint of humanity or remorse. It sounded like she’d been wandering the desert with an acid strip on her tongue. “Warder—he wanted me to be the queen one day…said I was too young n
ow, but I could be groomed into one…to replace his mother, Leanne. She used to be the queen. When she was their leader, things had been so much better… They wanted me to lead them… Don’t you understand?”

  Erin didn’t understand even a minimal amount of the babble the girl was stammering to get out.

  The girl sucked in a long drag of air as her wind ran out before the words. “I wanted to be their queen…”

  She stepped forward. Seeing her coming, Erin tried to squirm away on her back. She kicked with her legs. Her feet couldn’t get any traction on the slick snow and kept flying out from under her.

  After a few attempts, she stopped trying. There was no point. The knife had disabled her from running any more, and Erin had no more drive left inside to try. She figured it was time to stop fighting and let the inevitable be done.

  She let her arms drop, landing flush on either side of her. No longer did she think she could lift them.

  The girl stalked over her, planting a foot beside each of Erin’s hips. She lifted the knife, twirled it around so the blade pointed down in a sacrificial pose. Then she raised her other hand and placed her palm down on the hilt to aid the killing plunge.

  Erin had the perfect angle for a counterblow. The girl was vulnerable in this position: legs spread, so many open places for Erin to attack. She just couldn’t do it. Even if she somehow found the capability to strike, she seriously doubted it’d do any harm.

  The girl sank to a crouch, planted her knees in the snow and straddled Erin’s stomach.

  Leaning over, the girl lowered the tip of the knife. The blade made the shirt dip between Erin’s breasts. She whispered a chant from a language Erin had never heard before as the knife nudged through the fabric. She felt the sting of the blade prick her skin and the thin noodle of warm blood trickling down her stomach.

  The girl hunched her shoulders, applying the required pressure to penetrate Erin’s chest.

  Erin closed her eyes, prepared for the stab. She heard a whoosh of air, followed by a crunchy thunk. The girl’s hands twitched, slitting the skin where the slope of her left breast descended. The knife fell to the side. Erin felt the heavy pop of the hilt on her stomach.