Devil's Throat (The River Book 6)

by Michael Richan

  The head slid along the inside of the bus, its body moving on the outside. It stopped when it found the woman who had screamed. It studied her, staring at her as though it wanted her to scream again. She obliged and let out another piercing shriek.

  Dave flipped a switch, and white fluorescent bulbs kicked on overhead. The light seemed to bother the head, and it pulled itself out of the bus. It continued to hang onto the outside, staring in. It moved back to where Winn, Deem, Virginia, and Margie were huddled further up the bus. It stared at them.

  “What does it want?” Virginia asked.

  Deem could feel something emanating from its eyes. It was a kind of heat, something that was making a connection. She felt it sink into her, and for a moment she felt light-headed. She lost her peripheral sight as tunnel vision took over and the only thing she could see was the man’s head outside the bus, staring at her. She gripped the side of the seat, afraid she might fall over. Then she saw the man detach from the side of the bus, falling backwards into the dark.

  The others in the bus rushed back to the right side, trying to see where the man had gone.

  Deem turned and saw that Virginia had passed out. She was lying next to Margie in her seat, her head hanging. “Mom,” Deem said, trying to get Margie’s attention. Margie was straining her neck to see out the windows on the other side, along with the others in the bus. “Mom!” she repeated.

  Margie turned to look at Deem, and Deem pointed to Virginia. “Help her!”

  Margie turned and finally saw that Virginia was out. She grabbed Virginia’s hands, then tried patting her cheeks. Virginia’s eyes fluttered open.

  “What happened?” Virginia asked.

  “You fainted,” Winn said.

  “It was looking at me,” Virginia said. “I felt it.”

  “Me too,” Deem said.

  “We’ll be back in St. George in about twenty minutes, everyone,” Dave said over the intercom. “Please stay seated.”

  Winn got up to talk to Dave. Deem joined him at the front of the bus.

  “Did it come in like that, before?” Winn asked Dave.

  Dave kept his eyes on the road as he answered. “Not that I saw,” he said. “It just ran alongside us. Didn’t come in.”

  “Did you see it this time?” Winn asked. “Its head? Inside?”

  “I saw something,” Dave said, “in my mirror. Can’t say exactly what. Obviously someone’s upset back there. Can you talk to the woman who screamed, make sure everything’s OK?”

  “I’ll check on her,” Winn said, and walked back into the bus.

  “Did he say its head was inside?” Dave asked Deem.

  “Yes,” Deem answered. “Its head was inside.”

  “But none of the windows are open, are they?” Dave asked.

  “No, they’re closed,” Deem said.

  “That doesn’t make any sense,” Dave said.

  Deem left it at that. Dave hadn’t seen the head inside the bus, and she’d learned from her father not to relate stories that others might find crazy; it tended to make them think you were crazy.

  “You might want to consider cancelling this particular tour going forward,” Deem said, “until we figure out what this thing is. I think it’s dangerous.”

  “Not my decision,” Dave said. “That’d be for the owners to decide.”

  “Then you might want to ask for another route,” Deem said.

  “What do I tell them?” Dave asked. “Something jumped on the bus and stuck its head inside?”

  Deem knew Dave wouldn’t be relating that story to his boss. Winn rejoined them.

  “She’s fine, just shaken up,” Winn said. “She’s got a set of lungs on her, that’s for sure.”

  “Deem says it’s dangerous,” Dave said, his eyes looking at Winn through his rear view mirror. “Do you think it is?”

  “Might be,” Winn said. “Hard to say. Don’t know what it is, exactly.”

  “Can I talk to you for a second?” Deem asked Winn, pulling his arm as she walked back into the bus. Winn followed her to a seat that was several rows from the front, with no one around.

  “It’s dangerous,” Deem said, “but not for any reason you can tell Dave. I felt it lock onto me. I nearly passed out, like Virginia.”

  “Lock onto you?” Winn asked. “Like how?”

  “Our eyes were locked,” Deem said, “but then everything on the edges began to black out until all I could see was his eyes. I got dizzy, thought I might fall over. It was some kind of attack. Did you feel it?”

  “No,” Winn said. “No tunnel vision for me. I didn’t feel anything like that.”

  “Did you feel it was looking at you?” Deem said. “Like it was targeting you, specifically?”

  “No,” Winn replied. “It glanced at me, but I felt nothing.”

  “Well, it could be dangerous,” Deem said. “I told your friend he should cancel the tours until we know what it is.”

  “He’s just a driver, Deem,” Winn said. “If he tells them what we saw, they’ll just think he’s whack, or drunk. Might lose his job over it.”

  “If that thing out there has appeared before, it obviously knows this bus and the schedule. It’ll happen again.” She was scratching her left hand with her right.

  “But what came of it, other than a scare?” Winn said. “I don’t know what harm it caused. It was kind of like seeing a UFO. Not a lot you can do about it.”

  “It was more than that,” Deem said. “I’m sure of it. We’ll need to ride this bus again tomorrow. Try the River next time…what the fuck is this?”

  Deem raised her left hand where she’d been scratching. There was a round, quarter-inch bump in the skin of her left little finger, between the first and second knuckles.

  “Looks like a bite,” Winn said.

  “It’s not,” Deem said, pressing on the bump with her right index finger. “There’s something really hard inside, and it’s sharp. It hurts when I press it.”

  Winn took over and tried pressing on the bump. It looked red and sore like a spider bite, but he could tell as soon as he touched it that it wasn’t a bite. It was soft and squishy, like a pocket of liquid, but inside was something small and hard.

  “Ouch!” Deem said. “Don’t push on it!”

  “How long have you had this?” Winn asked.

  “No idea,” Deem said. “I don’t remember seeing it before.”

  Winn reached into his pants pocket and removed a pocketknife. He popped the blade open.

  “Whoa, hold on!” Deem said. “What are you going to do?”

  “Cut it open,” Winn said. “I’ll just slit the top open here.”

  Deem winced at the idea, but part of her knew the bump was abnormal, and she wanted whatever was inside it to be out of her. “It’s gonna bleed all over the place.”

  Winn got up and walked back to Margie and Virginia. They talked for a moment, then Winn returned with a small white handkerchief.

  “We’ll use this,” Winn said, “to wrap it up.”

  “Alright,” Deem said.

  Winn held Deem’s little finger and slowly inserted the blade into the bump. Once he had the tip of it past the skin, he slid the blade sideways, making an eighth-inch cut. As he removed the knife, thin wisps of grey smoke emerged from the incision, and the skin collapsed as the gas escaped. Winn gently pulled the skin apart, and saw a small piece of something white.

  “Hope that didn’t hurt,” Winn said.

  “Didn’t feel a thing,” Deem said. “No blood, either. What is that?”

  Winn gently inserted the blade of his knife back into the slit and pried under the object, lifting it out of the skin. He held it up for Deem to see. It was small, white, and jagged.

  “What is that?” Winn asked, studying it. He held it for Deem to see. “Is it bone?”

  “What the fuck?” Deem asked, looking up at him.

  ▪ ▪ ▪

  This has been a complimentary first chapter of the first book in The Downwind
ers series,

  Blood Oath, Blood River

  Enjoy the rest of the novel by downloading your complete copy from Amazon.com!

  And continue with The River series by reading

  The Diablo Horror.