TREASURE KILLS (Legends of Tsalagee Book 1)

by Phil Truman

  Sunny turned and sprinted out the barn door. She cut right, once outside, and headed toward the root cellar. She knew the first place they would look would be the house, and thought hiding in the root cellar would buy her a little time. Once she saw them go inside the house, she would run around the barn to Hayward’s RV, wake them up and drive away across the pasture.

  * * *

  From his concealed position in the trees across the pasture, the creature could hear a commotion going on inside the large structure. As he watched, the female Other ran from the front of the structure heading for the small cave... the Cave of The Food, then disappeared inside it. The bigger of the male Others, who had gone into the structure, came out and looked around, then headed for the smaller shelter from which the female had first come. The creature squinted. He thought the big male Other carried a small power thing. He squeaked and took a step backward. He did not like it when Others held the power things.

  He watched as the small male Other came out of the large structure, yelled something and pointed toward the Cave of the Food. The big one returned to where the small one stood; the little one went back to the big structure, and the big one walked slowly toward the cave. The creature became enraged. Power thing or no power thing, he could not let those male Others take The Food. He snorted, ranted and spun, his anger building. He uttered, “Errraph!” and heaved the rock in his hand at the small shiny shelter sitting behind the big structure. The rock arced the hundred or so yards through the still night air, landing with a “whump” squarely atop the shiny shelter.

  The creature, his eyes glowing with fury, broke from the shelter of the moonlight dappled trees, and loped toward the Cave of The Food with a determined stride.

  * * *

  Randy had set the pistol down in the wagon bed as he pulled the old tool chest out from under the seat and opened it. When he removed the folded hide from the gunnysack, and turned the flashlight on the inscribed words, it thrilled and amazed him. He read those blood-red words and said, “Well, I’ll be damned.”

  Threebuck asked him something, but it didn’t register with Randy as he looked incredulously at the inscribed buckskin laid out on the wagon bed. After all the months they’d chased this treasure, he’d begun to doubt they would ever find it, or that it even existed. He just couldn’t unravel the meaning of the “treasure letter” they had gotten from Goat. But now... finding this old piece of deerskin with words written on it, words that coincided and further described the clues in the letter, it appeared he’d found the key to the location of the treasure.

  Scuffling noises broke Randy’s reverie, and sounds came from Threebuck like a mewling calf. Turning the flashlight in that direction, he saw Threebuck rolled up in a ball on the barn floor gasping. He caught a glimpse of the woman’s baby blue robe going out the barn door. Randy fumbled for the gun on the wagon bed, and took out after her. Stopping, after a few feet, Randy returned to the wagon and shoved the buckskin back into the gunny sack. Dropping it on the dirt floor next to Threebuck as he passed him, he said, “Hold onto that.”

  Once outside, Randy stopped. The Griggs woman had disappeared into the night. He turned completely around looking for any sign of her. His next thought was that she must have returned to the house, and he took off running toward it.

  Just as he reached the back door of the house and opened it, Randy heard Threebuck call to him in a pain-racked voice, “Randy! Back here! She went in the cellar!”

  Randy turned and looked at the hump of moonlight painted earth thirty yards to the left of the barn. He trotted slowly back to where his partner stood. Threebuck walked gingerly in circles, still bent over, and uttering tortured sounds.

  “You sure she’s in there?” Randy asked in a totally unsympathetic voice.

  Threebuck sucked in some air and said, “Yeah, she... oh crap... she come out of there, I guess to make a break for it and... oh man... unh... son-of-a-bitch... then she seen me and ducked back in... hooo... oh damn... Randy, you got to let me be the one to kill that woman.”

  Randy looked at Threebuck with disdain. “Where’s that gunnysack I gave you?” he asked.

  “What gunnysack?” Threebuck returned.

  “You idiot, the gunnysack that holds the buckskin that tells where the treasure is. I told you to hang onto it.”

  “Hnnng,” Threebuck said.

  “I’m going over to that cellar to take care of the woman,” Randy said. “You go back in the barn and get that sack.”

  * * *

  Despite White Oxley trying to reason with Punch, the idiot seemed determined to carry out his plan to play his ghillie-suited Halloween trick on Sunny.

  “Well, now, just hold on, Punch. At least let me drive you out there. As drunk as you are, you’d probably drive right off into Cowbird Creek. And with that outfit on, I don’t think you could swim very far.”

  White decided if he couldn’t stop Punch, he at least had better go along with him to maybe defuse the situation before anyone got shot and killed. He’d totally forgotten about Hayward’s and Soc’s plan to rendezvous with those two uglies out at Sunny’s place that very night. Driving along, White looked over at Punch and started snickering. He had to admit this was one of the funnier pranks Punch had pulled. It wasn’t very smart, but it was funny. White made a turn at the mile section before going to Sunny’s place.

  “Where the hell you going?” Punch asked. His beer polluted brain didn’t blur his knowledge of their whereabouts.

  “I need to run by the house to get my video camera,” White said. “Ain’t nobody’s going believe this in the telling. I want to record it for prosterior. ’Sides, Sunny’s going to need some proof in a court of law that shooting you was justifiable.”

  White gathered up his video camera at his house, and when they pulled into Sunny’s long gravel drive, he shut off the lights, cut the engine, and coasted the last hundred feet to a stop, steering the pickup into the moonlight shade of the big elm at the side of the house.

  “Well, what’s your plan?” he asked Punch.

  Punch opened his door and got out, dragging the wooly and shaggy headpiece with him. “I’m going to head on out to the barn, then I’m going to knock around out there, rouse the chickens and goats. Once I see Sunny come outside to investigate, I’ll come out of the barn and scare the crap out of her.”

  Standing at the side of the truck, Punch put on the ghillie hood, taking some seconds to adjust it onto his head.

  “You sure you can see out of that thing?” White asked in a whisper. He raised his video camera and hit the record button.

  “Yeah, pretty much,” Punch responded, and took off in the direction of the barn. His restricted vision, plus his beer-impaired balance, sent him on a weaving route.

  White stayed at the truck where he had a clear field of view of the back portion of the farmstead, from house to barn to root cellar. And he started recording Punch’s journey.

  * * *

  “What’s taking you so dang long?” Soc asked in an exasperated whisper from the doorway of the RV. He had gone out to investigate what had made the thump on top of the vehicle, and had come back in.

  “Just hold your durn horses,” Hayward said. “I told you I had to pee, and I ain’t as quick at it as I used to be.”

  “There’s something going on out here. You better hurry up. And don’t forget your shotgun.”

  Hayward came toward Soc from the RV’s bathroom, zipping his fly. “Did you find out what hit the top of the RV?” he asked.

  “Looks like a rock,” Soc said. “About the size of a softball.”

  “A rock?” Hayward said. “Maybe it’s a meteor.”

  “Don’t think so,” Soc said. “A meteor would most likely have come on through the roof. Would’ve been hot, too. Naw, I think it was thrown at us.”

  “Throwed?! Who would’ve done that?

  “Only one thing I know throws rocks that big at things. Most likely the Hill Man tossed it.”

  Hayw
ard looked at his friend. Even in the pale moonlight, he could tell Soc was dead serious. “Where’d I put my gun?” he asked himself. “Here it is,” he answered as he picked it up off the bunk over the cab. “Let’s get going.”

  The two elders headed out into the light and shadows of the night.

  * * *

  When Randy got to the steps of the cellar, he snapped on the flashlight and shined it into the depths. The beam found Sunny in the back right corner squatting on the floor next to a four foot tall jar. She had her arms crossed with each hand holding an opposite shoulder, shaking slightly. Threebuck trotted up beside Randy, holding the gunnysack under his right arm.

  “Maybe we should just go ahead and end this now,” Randy said. He turned and handed the pistol to Threebuck. “Here ya go, Three. Reckon you earned the right to shooting her. I’ll hold the light.”

  Threebuck, somewhat recovered, handed the gunnysack to Randy and raised the pistol. He grinned a pained grin, and said to Sunny, “I’m going to enjoy this more than I did whacking that old man. You just about de-manned me, bitch. You got any last words?”

  Sunny raised her head, brushed a strand of loose hair from her face, and looked unwaveringly back at the silhouettes behind the beam of the flashlight. “You’re both murderous, worthless pieces of humanity. You’re no man; you’re nothing but a stinking coward. Balls are wasted on you. Next time I’m going to cut them off instead of just kicking them.”

  Randy burst out laughing. Threebuck lost his grin and looked sideways at Randy.

  “Well, I guess that next time will be somewhere in hell,” Threebuck said. He cocked the big pistol, and aimed it between Sunny’s eyes.

  From Randy’s right came a sound unlike anything he’d ever heard in his life. It began as a shriek, as if coming from a furious fiend flying up from the depths of hell, and built to a thunderous, roaring bellow. In that first instant when Randy’s brain tried to identify the sound, it registered as something half-lion, half-bull, and all-demon. In the next microsecond, when Randy turned to look for the source of the sound, what he saw confused him more. A blur of hair charged toward him, apparently standing upright at a height of about ten feet. In the instant that followed, Randy flew upward about twenty feet, and then fell, yelling in terror and fright. He landed hard on his left shoulder, with a painful crunch, atop the cellar mound.

  Threebuck had started to squeeze the trigger of the pistol when the roaring and shrieking started. It had distracted him enough, along with Randy’s vertical departure, so that he jerked the pistol up and rightward. The gun boomed, but the bullet embedded itself harmlessly into the brick and earth of the cellar’s back wall two feet above Sunny’s head.

  The hairy creature lurched backward after the gun blasted, enough for the terrified Theebuck to turn toward the thing, shout “Holy crap!” in a high-pitched voice, and wildly fire the pistol again in the creature’s general direction. The slug grazed the outside of the being’s left shoulder digging a six-inch groove across the flesh, and singeing copious amounts of hair along the path. It howled in rage and pain, and advanced on Threebuck grabbing the gun, along with the hand that held it, then the man’s tender crotch. He lifted the screaming Threebuck high over head, and heaved him, two-handed, barn-ward.

  * * *

  Punch had weaved his way into the barnyard at about the time Red Randy and Threebuck, standing on the cellar steps, had confronted Sunny down in the cellar. Punch stopped in his tracks and swayed, trying to make sense of the two men at the cellar steps and hear what they said. He started to raise his hand and shout, “Hey!” but another guy, also dressed up in a ghillie suit, came out of nowhere and assaulted the two guys.

  Punch couldn’t help but notice the other hairy guy was a big sumbitch. As he watched, the big sumbitch grabbed one guy, and threw him in a high vertical arc where he landed on top of the cellar. A gunshot resounded, making Punch jump, and froze him to his spot. Another explosion rocked the night. The big hairy guy roared and grabbed the guy with the gun. Punch watched with fascination as the mammoth guy lifted the gunman over his head and tossed him like a basketball... right in his direction. Paralyzed with amazement and fear, Punch could only watch as the tossed guy came sailing toward him, bringing with him the Doppler effect of his scream, and then smashing into him face-to-face. In an instant before their collision, Punch realize the man-tosser was the Hill Man. After that the lights went out.

  * * *

  The creature, panting clouds of moon-brightened breath from his exertion, gave a soft, victorious growl in the direction he’d tossed the small male Other. It had landed on something else. It may have been one of his kind, for it sort of looked like one, maybe a small female. But something wasn’t quite right about it. It looked more like a bush... with arms and legs. That puzzled him, too. No immediate threat, though, as both the Other he’d thrown and the bush lay on the ground, not moving. He looked down at his left hand that still held the power thing. He turned and looked atop the cellar where the big Other lay looking back at him with frightened eyes. The creature growled again, this time as a warning, and the big male Other lowered his head. Satisfied that no threat came from that male either, the creature entered The Cave of The Food. Inside, the glowing light stick lay on the ground illuminating the container of The Food. The female Other also lay on the ground of the cave, her arms and hands covering her head, her eyes clenched tightly shut. The creature considered her for a moment, tilting his head left, then right. Still holding the power thing, he grabbed the container of The Food into his arms. He snuffled and snorted a bit toward the female, and then, holding the container like a trophy, he left the cave. He would take both The Food and the power thing back to his dwelling.

  * * *

  Not since he was a little boy hiding from his father’s drunken wrath and abuse, did Randy tremble such as he did lying there on top of that cellar. He’d been tossed like a rag doll high into the air by... by... by he didn’t know what. A sharp pain started at a point atop his left shoulder, and radiated all the way down to his fingertips, and also up through his neck. He looked up tentatively and saw the creature turn to look at him with those menacing eyes and then growl. He lowered his head quickly, which caused him still more pain.

  Once sure the creature had gone into the cellar, Randy sprang to his feet, despite the screaming pain. It surprised him that he still held the gunnysack in his right hand. He slid down off the sloped wall of the cellar, and bolted toward the spot where he’d last seen Threebuck. When he got to his partner, laying atop what appeared to be another of those things—this one laying spread eagle and apparently unconscious—he kicked Threebuck in the ribs. Looking into Threebuck’s dazed expression, Randy said, “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

  * * *

  Artie and Galynn remained mostly silent. The night was as near perfect as you could get: not too cool, no wind, light jacket weather, no sound, full moon. Artie thought he’d made up with Galynn, but he wasn’t sure. That was okay, though. He liked just sitting there with her on the back porch steps, enjoying the brilliant autumn night.

  “Did you see that?” she asked.

  “See what?” he said.

  “A shooting star. Make a wish,” she answered.

  “I wish I’d seen it,” Artie said.

  Galynn laughed then, and knocked him on the shoulder with the butt of her hand. Then they heard a gunshot some distance away. Both turned their heads to look in the direction of Sunny’s house.

  “Wha— ” Galynn started, when another gunshot cut her off.

  “Something’s going on over at Sunny’s,” Artie said. He stood, looking for a few seconds, then said, “Maybe I better get over there, and check it out.” He turned and headed into the house; went to the bedroom pulling his 9mm Glock out of the top drawer of a night stand, checked the clip, and headed back to the porch. Galynn stood near one of the porch posts looking toward Sunny’s.

  “It looks like whatever is going on is out by the barn,”
she said. “I heard some screaming, a man’s scream, and some...”

  “Some what?” Artie asked

  “It sounded like some kind of animal noises, like a bear or something.”

  Artie looked at her quizzically. “You got your cell phone?” he asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “I’ll keep in touch with you on the two-way.” Then he turned to head toward the pasture.

  “Artie, be careful,” she called after him.

  “Call the sheriff,” he yelled back at her. At the fence he climbed over it, and headed at a dead run across the pasture.

  Halfway across the pasture Artie could see two figures running toward him. He stopped, spread his feet, and held his gun out in front of him at eye level, both hands on it, stiff-armed.

  “Stop right there!” he shouted, but the two veered off to his left and kept chugging. “Hey! Stop!” he said again, but they ignored him. His firing the Glock into the air didn’t seem to faze them. They ran on into the bright night.

  His cell phone beeped. “Artie! Artie! What was that?!” Galynn’s frantic voice came out of the device.

  “I’m okay,” Artie answered back. “There’re two guys running toward the house. I don’t know who they are or what they’re doing, but I want you to go get in the car and drive away from there.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Please, Galynn, just get in the car and get out of there. It’s going to take those guys another minute to get there, so you don’t have much time. Drive over to Sunny’s. I’m going to go on over there now.”

  “Okay, I’m getting in the car now.”

  * * *

  Something huge ran by Hayward and Soc and disappeared around the back corner of the barn as the two men approached it.

  “What the hell was that?” Hayward exclaimed, stopping dead in his tracks.

  Soc didn’t answer, but advanced on to the barn. Hayward caught up with him and they both peered around the corner. Chaos ensued at the root cellar. The big... whatever, tossed the man called Randy high in the air like a throw pillow, and he came down on top of the cellar in a heap. Two pistol shots rang out; after the second, the big creature roared, grabbed the guy called Threebuck, and threw him out of sight somewhere toward the front of the barn. As the creature stood at the front of the cellar growling some, Soc started to softly sing in Cherokee. The creature turned and entered the cellar.