Speaker 1: This podcast may not be suitable for young listeners.
Speaker 2: Steve Lily, Episode sixteen, The Open Door. The Coywodie lapped
water from the ditch, never lowering her eyes, alert, ready
to pounce on a meal or run for her life.
She was in unfamiliar territory and alone. Her mate had
been caught in a trap weeks ago. She waited for
the mail to come, but it stayed, and it fought
the trap until it was exhausted, and then she lay
beside him and waited, not comprehending the reason they had stopped.
He was her mate for life, and she was loyal.
The men came just before dark, and she had to
get a distance between her and the men, and when
the men surround her mate, she paced and wind at
a distance where she wouldn't be detected. As she watched
the men pin the Mail's head to the ground and
then shove it in a cage and they left. She
paced back and forth for hours with anxiety now being alone,
before returning to the place where the Mail had fought
the trap. She remained close to his scent for days
until hunger was stronger than her loyalty and she had
to hunt, and she came back to the scent and
waited longer. There was no emotion in her instinct to leave.
The mail was not coming back, and a million years
of inherited instinct drove her on for days until she
stopped and howled into the blackness and collected a census
of her kind in a new land that she did
not know. Others did not answer, so she stayed and
dug out a den to have her litter. The pups
were now a week old, and she left them so
she could eat to keep her strength. Most powerful instinct
of all the survival. It was new territory, but some
things were familiar. Her DNA coated with all the information
she needed to know every site, every sound, in every scent.
She need not have ever seen a specific animal to
know what it was. She was perfectly made to survive
on her own with a gift from one thousand generations
before her, and to raise her pups, and then she
would attract a new mate and the cycle would repeat. Move, eat,
reproduce and survive. She crawled up the bank and moved
forward in a carefree trot a coyote does when they
look like they're on their way to no particular place.
A mouse moved a blade of grass and the frozen
brush ahead, and she saw it and she pounced and
dug and she ate it whole. After crushing its skeleton
with her molars, she moved in search of another. She
was veiled in the shadows of pines on this sunny, windy,
cold day, and the wind brought the coppery scent of
blood a bigger meal, and she changed direction into the wind.
Ears high nostrils flared, and the small muscles not seen
rolling under her thick winter coat. An hour passed, and
the cadence of her pace never changing, until her nose
told her she was there, and she stopped and scanned
the area for other predators and humans and anything that
would keep her from getting back to her litter. It
was dark now and she needed to feed and get
back before the pups froze. They had to eat, too,
so she moved to a pile of deer scraps left
by a hunter. The first thing she ate was the liver,
and that was enough, but even so, she gnawed on
the heart, squeezing the blood into her mouth, never taking
her eyes away from all that surrounded her. The location
was imprinted on her so that she would be able
to remember this place forever. And she made for her
den miles away and started her trick. And then she
stopped and stood motionless when the scent of something she
had never encountered swarmed her sinus cavity and burned into
her brain. The inherited database had nothing like this for
her reference. The odor was foreign and it did not belong.
It caused her to look up and not move until
it moved. Whatever it was, it was dangerous and it
was close, but it didn't move, so she moved. She
had to get back to her litter. She had been
gone too long, and that's when it moved. She darted
away like the athlete that she was and avoided its grasp,
and she felt its claws graze her sensitive hide, and
with a leap and then a dead out sprint, she
moved away from the creature and left it frustrated and
defeated behind her, chasing for a distance and then giving
up another drop from a tree, almost landing on her,
blasting sticks and mud into the air, confusing her sense
of direction, but she avoided the attack and moved in
any direction that was away from the massive predator. Now
she was heading away from her den, and the pups
would be making noise. There was no other way. For
a while, nothing was chasing her, and the foreign scent
was getting weaker. She had to survive if the pups
were to eat, and she took an hour longer to
get to them. Exhausted, the Kayodie approached the underground den
to hungry, crying pupps. She'd been hearing them for several minutes,
and she picked up her pace to an almost run.
Silence would be her only defense through this cold, dark night.
One had crawled out into the open looking for food,
rain and sleep. Bounced off her wet coat and had
covered the pup and I so young that its eyes
had not opened, but it was alive, and with a
pup in her mouth. She darted into the den and
dropped the pup with the others and made several circles
around the winding animals and finally laid down. She hushed
them quickly by offering her underbelly and food. The warmth
of her body and the nourishment would keep them sleeping
through the night, and it would keep them quiet. She
raised her nose high while the pups fed anticipating the
new and wretched scent to drift into the shallow den,
and if it did, she would abandon her den and
her offspring and leave the area she could mate again.
Something new and evil and hungry had entered her world
worn banks crept into the woods just after daylight. The
creature he had seen from his back porch came out
at dusk, and he never saw activity during the day.
If he set his traps early, he might catch one.
He made his way to the first tree, and he
stopped and unraveled the cord and tied it to a
low branch, an oak branch strong enough not to break
when the animal fought against it. The string was tied properly,
and he reached into the plastic bag of deer meat
thawed since the night before and wadded it on the hook,
making sure the meat covered the sharp points, and then
he moved to another tree. An hour and a half later,
twelve traps were baited. Breren looked back at the large
trouble hooks with meat hanging from them, and he admired
his cleverness. Other animals would be hanging from the hooks
the next day, but he didn't care. He just needed
to catch one of those monkeys and get to it
before it died. He left the woods and walked across
the dead bean filled toward the house, stopping at the
junk in his backyard to wipe the mud from his
boots on the tracks of an old dozer before climbing
the steps to the back porch. His grandson greeted him
as he entered the kitchen and held out a toy
truck from Santa. His daughter cooked the Christmas morning breakfast,
and on any normal Christmas morning, he would have been
in a better mood and taken in the heat and
the heavy smell of biscuits and bacon and gravy. But
the kid annoyed him, and Warren didn't know who the
father was, and he wondered if his daughter even knew.
He ignored the cheerful display of the gifts Santa had
left that morning, and he pushed the truck and the
kid aside, and he walked past his daughter, and he
held his hands in the air, as if touching the
child would infect him with some disease. He only spoke
to his daughter when he needed to exchange information, and
she did the same. They had been close once now
she didn't like her father. They had drifted apart when
she left with the boyfriend that he knew was trouble.
She had been gone for a year and never called,
and she showed up with a baby in a blanket,
saying she had no other place to go and she
wouldn't stay long. She just needed to get her bearings
and find a job, and when she had enough money saved,
she would move into her own place. Warren gritted his
teeth and said okay. They had lived in the house
for almost two years now, and he never wasted the
opportunity to humiliate her with his passive aggressive ways or
to ignore them both with indifference. He avoided one phrase,
though I told you this would happened. Those were the
words that would drive her away and he might never
see her and the child again. And as much as
he hated how her life had turned, he knew that
driving her away might put her in danger, living on
the streets, turning to the worst people for help. Hell,
she could die, she would take the boy too, and
the boy could die with her. So he would help her,
but he wouldn't let go of the animosity, and the
best he could do was let her share his roof
and some food, but nothing would make him act like
he liked it. She got the message loud and clear,
and she hated him back. Warren skipped the meal and
went to his truck, leaving them on this Christmas morning
to enjoy it without him. It would be better this way,
he thought. He couldn't stand the clanking and banging and
whizzing of new toys, so instead of acting like he
wanted to be there, he would ride around for a while,
maybe all day. The first creature appeared a week ago.
He had walked out onto his back porch to have
a drink and be away from the chatter of the kid,
and the sun was setting and the shadows of winter
almost obscuring his view across the field. When he saw
something walk out of the trees. He would not have
seen it had it not been a shade that contrasted
with the browns and grays of the southern winters. It
was black against the backdrop of trees and mud and beanstalks,
and it walked upright on two legs. He was up
with a jerk from the worn out couch that had
been sitting on the porch for years, and started for
the field to evict this trespasser from his land. He
stumbled around an old, rusty piece of farm junk, and
he walked into the field. Halfway there, he could see
that this was not a man. It was an animal,
not an animal he had ever seen in the woods.
But clearly this was not a man. He turned back
to the house and tripped over a rusty bush hog
laying useless in his yard. He got up and staggered
back into the house, and he got his rifle. He
rested the rifle on the blade of another junk bulldozer,
and he focused in on the black figure. It was
an ape. It was picking things out of the mud
and putting them in his mouth and eating them, and
he thought probably crawdads hibernating in the soft mud. At
the edge of the tree line. Behind this creature, he
saw more larger, barely moving figures that looked the same.
But these must have been the adults. And he was
watching a family of gorillas in his damn field, and
the adults looked on as the youth rummaged for food.
He clicked the safety off on his rifle and he
lined up on the biggest dape at the tree line,
and he started to squeeze off around and then he stopped.
I could make some damn money out of these gorillas.
First clan of gorillas in North America discovered on his
land would make a great news story. Well, Warren wasn't
sure how the money would flow his way, but he
could figure that out later. So instead of killing one,
he would catch one. And in his mind, gorillas were predators.
They were meat eaters, and he knew how to catch predators.
Warren reached under the driver's seat and found a paper
bag with a pine of old Granddad, and after a
pull from the bottle, he backed away from the house
and he headed toward the swamp roads. Dark gray clouds
blocked the sun and gave the day a depressed mood.
The whiskey helped. He slowed to a crawl on the
first gravel road that wound through the area behind his house.
Three miles later, he intersected the Blacktop County Road and
abounding his search for the creatures. But would he do
if he saw one? Anyway, He parked at the edge
of a field, a place he'd liked to go to
drink and watch whatever was going on in the field.
Anything but go home and deal with her and that kid.
Agriculture surrounded him in every direction. The only landmarks on
the flatland were utility poles. He fell asleep. A bomb
to his truck woke him from a sleep. After looking
around and seeing nothing, he turned the bottle up and
finished that pint off, and he reached under the seat
for the next one. Across the field, in the gray light,
he could make out a tiny patch of trees that
lined a ditchy bank, a tiny dark line on the horizon.
It was two miles away in the land between him
and that small grove of trees once belonged to his family.
Corporate agg had made him an offer, and he bit,
selling everything he owned except one hundred and twenty acres
where his house sat. A tinge of guilt trickled through
his mind, making his back burn with envy. Now that
others owned it and he didn't. But at seventy one
years old, what would he have done with it? He
couldn't leave it to his daughter, plus some gutter rat
that she thought loved her. The money was safe in
the bank, and he made a mental note to do something,
write something in his will so that the money wouldn't
get into her hands. He was sure his life lawyer
could think of a way to keep the money out
of the hands of the next loser that she let
into her life. A figure rose in front of the truck,
and it scared the hell out of warn and the
bottle flipped from his hand and tumbled into the floorboard.
The mystery of the noise that woke him was now solved.
A freezing mist had begun to coat the windshield while
he napped, and whoever this was was blurry. Banks could
make out reds and oranges and blues, and a distorted
image that was now walking to the driver's window. His
keys fumbled to the floorboard and settled in the whiskey
he spilled. He had put on some weight and opening
the door was the only way to reach them, so
he sat there waiting to see who this mystery person was.
Knuckles tapped on the window, and a short figure stood
looking through the glass until he rolled the window down
and saw that it was a woman. She was dressed
in ragged clothes with an awe orange and red pullover
cap knitted from some cheap crocheted pattern. Gray hair hung
out the edges and fell across her shoulders and blew
across her face in the wind, and she raised a
gnarled or reddick hand to pull the hair to the
side to reveal one eye that looked normal and the
other that appeared to be a giant gray marble. But
it wasn't a marble. It was her eye, diseased and
glazed over, with a white bulge where her iris should
be in protruding twice the size of the other eye,
and a half inch lower on her cheek. She pushed
her head into the open window and Wren reared back,
as if their movements were tied together. Warren Banks, she said.
Her teeth were crooked and misshaped and in varying shades
of brown. How do you know my name? Don't worry
about that shit, boy, she said, Yes, I know something
about you, she said Warren down at the steering wheel,
not knowing what to say, I said I know something.
She said it louder, and Warren jumped, Damn, lady, Okay,
what do you know about me? I know things about
your land. Things have been happening there for months. I
bet you didn't know. She shot gun to string a
snot from her left nostril A. Warren shivered at that
and wiped his hands on his pants as if she
had blown snot in the truck. He rolled his window
up a couple of inches, roll that back down, she said.
He obeyed. Time and space are strange things. Worn. Space
bends over on itself, making time irrelevant. That's what's been
happening on your place. And you've seen what came through
when space overlapped. You had all came together right there
on your land, not far from your back door. What's
coming through is evil, boy, and it has to be stopped.
I have one piece of advice for you, if you
want your daughter and your grandson and you to live
the rest of your day's peaceful. She looked at him
and thought his eyes looked like ping pong balls with
black dots painted on him. He was scared, and that
meant he had hurt her. And she backed up and
turned to walk away. And she laughed as she walked. Wait, wait,
who are you? How do you know my name? What
evil are you talking about? You mean the gorillas I've
been seeing? She was slowly making her way to the blacktop.
She turned and aimed that Goggley ride at Warren Banks.
Them's not Gorilla's dumbass. Them's the evil, and someone's coming
to kill the evil. And do not interfere. Heed my words,
Warren Banks, do not interfere in any way. The freezing
mist had turned to sleep and freezing rain. Warren watched
her fate into the haze of eyes, and then she
was gone. Sleep bounced onto the window, pecking at his face,
and he started the engine and pulled onto the blacktop,
looking for the old woman, who should have been just
a few feet ahead. But after a mile she was
not there. She had vanished into the winter. Warren let
the truck idle on the shoulder and he stared down
the road, hoping to see her shape. Where the hell
did she go? There was no way she could have
gone this far with that fat ass little shuffle of hers,
and he rode back, watching the ditches on both sides,
thinking she had fallen in one, and he gave up
the search. When he was back, even with his drinking spot,
she was talking about the creatures. Don't interfere, don't get involved,
someone's coming, don't get in their way. None of that
made any sense. An image of one of those things
hanging from the mouth on her. Trouble hook formed in
his mind. Don't get in the wai, he said. He
had set up traps to do the most harm and
inflict the most pain and interfere in the worst way.
And it was getting dark and he had to get
back before they came out. He had to cut those
lines down. And racing for home, he watched the clouds
dip low to the ground, first in whisps and then
in full fog, and the cold interacting with the warm fields,
and he knew he would not get home in time.
Warren raced down the road to his house and skid
it into the gravel area in his front yard, and
he jumped out of his truck and he ran across
the yard in a panic. It was dark now, so
he retrieved his flashlight from the back porch and he
pulled on his rubber boots and started to run across
the field, but decided his lungs couldn't take it, and
combined with the whiskey that he had drank, he was
sure he would fall flat on his face in the mud.
So he walked at a fast pace. Eyes had begun
to accumulate and crunch with each step, and the woods
were darker than the field. When he crossed the threshold
of the trees, he fumbled with the light and switched
it on, and saw the first two traps swaying in
the wind, and he cut them both down, and he
wrapped the hooks in a rag. Now I can't remember
where the hell hung all these strings, he thought, So
we walked deeper into the woods, shining the light back
and forth. Another hook hung a few yards away. I
think this is where I bore to the right a little,
he thought. And in the years he had used this
method to trap predators, he had never taken a trap down.
It would stay where it was placed forever, or until
the string rotted of a hook rusted away. And if
he caught a few coaties after setting the traps out,
he would cut the carcass down and let them ride.
Kill the animals still alive and cut them down, and
then he would lose interest in the trap and forget
them and leave them. The image of the woman's face
and that ridiculous hat and that goggley invaded his mind,
and he was right there with her again. Why the
hell am I so afraid of what that woman said?
She's full of shit. Oh fuck it, I'm here now.
I might as well get those traps out just in
case she's right. Warren stopped walking and took a breath
and tried to relax and get his heart rate down
so he could concentrate. He took a few steps toward
the next trap, and he stopped. Something was wrong. He
heard a sucking and munching sound and a purr like
a cat when it lays on your lap, and then
the scream caught him off guard and he dropped the
flashlight and his eyes opened wider than eyes should be
able to open, trying to take in more light to
see what was making this awful noise. He bent over
to pick up the lie, but he kicked it another
two times and he finally had a grip on it,
and he turned to get the hell out of there.
What the hell is this? It isn't natural, and Warren
wanted no part of it, but he stopped and he
jerked around to shine the light towards the noise. He
had to see it. Two traps hung in the light,
and beyond that was the young gorilla hung with a
trouble hook. Its hand was attached to its mouth at
the same time, and it pulled away when the string
would tighten and embed the barbs deeper, and then it
would squall even more. I'll be down. I got one.
I'm gonna crack that gorilla over the head and drag
him out of these woods, and I'm gonna lock him
in the shed, and then I'm gonna call the news station.
Gripping the light tighter, he moved toward the creature. More
screams came from the woods in the distance. Oh shit,
he's calling other gorillas. I'm running out of time. So
Warren high stepped it over some vines and was within
feet of the young gorilla when one of the adults
walked into his light, but it wasn't a gorilla. Warren
had decided to run, but he hesitated, and he shined
the light around. Other creatures stood there, heaving, either in
anger or from stress. He didn't care, and it rushed
to the young creature and it lifted it from the
ground by its feet, and then it slung the offspring
into the tree and the young gorilla went silent. It
was obviously dead. Now Warren knew all the attention would
be focused on him, and fear ran through his body,
producing bile that crept its way up in his throat
and burned when it didn't move back down into his stomach.
He backed up a few steps, running the light across
the area, where two more creatures watched. While the adult
snatched up the youth and slammed it against the tree again.
The other three joined in, and the roars and the
screaming were more than Warren could stand, and he turned
and ran. In the beam of his light, he briefly
saw a young pig struggling against the hook set firmly
in its mouth. It's squealing, combined with the roars of
the monsters, was deafening in the light. A coyote darted
in and snatched the pig by its neck and bit down,
and it shook. He kept the light on the spectacle
as he ran. The pig went lipt except for the
last wiggles of a dying animal, and the coyote lifted
it and ran, and the line went tight and the
pig hit the ground, but the coyote picked it up
and pulled the pig hard enough so that the hook
ripped free from the animal's mouth and she vanished into
the night. Warren made it to the field, and his
boots sank into the mud, slowing him down and exhausting him.
So he slowed to a walk, and the roarers began
to quiet behind him. The light of the porch got
closer with each step, and then he fell face down
in the icy mud, and he began to cuss, and
before he could get up, he was grabbed by the
leg and dragged back into the trees, screaming for someone
to help him. The pups nursed until her body had
no milk to offer. The female was hungry too, and
it was time to hunt or they would starve. Every hour,
she had lifted her head to the den opening and
caught the scent that had chased her days before, and
tucked herself back inside to gather the pups near her.
Danger was always close now. Two of the pups followed
her out of the den when she first tried to leave,
but she ushered them back into the deepest part until
they were settled, and then she left. She traveled into
the wind so that any danger in front of her
would be detected. Nocturnal hunting is when she did the best,
but it was risky because that is when their scent
was strong. But still she trotted on, looking for anything
in this winter wasteland to eat. Lightfooted but slow, she
moved through the darkness and the ice that had formed
on the ground, making little to no sound, and lifting
her muzzle high to catch the scent of anything that
she could move toward or run away from. In a
normal world, she would not feel the need to conserve
energy with food everywhere, but in her weakened state, she
was conscious of the weakness in her legs. Only. She
traveled not in the care free trot of a cody,
but in a lowered posture, alert and ready to move
should any side of the creatures appear. And she caught
the scent of something that did not present danger. It
was blood. Her instinct registered the scent of the squealing
animals that roam the woods, rooting the ground. They were
hard to catch and kill because the adults protected them
with their fierce tusks and hoofs. However, the small ones
offered an easy meal if she could catch a group
off guard, dart in and take a pig, and retreat
before the adults knew she had been there. She shifted
direction and picked up her pace and moved following the
scent into the wind. The kyote stopped, knowing by her
nose only that she was just out of sight, and
listened for the rooting and snorting that always let her
know exactly her position in relation to the prey. But
there were no sounds, and the odor was still telling
her that she was close. She moved forward, slow, step
by step, like a cat, never moving her head or
her eyes, her shoulder blades rising and falling, alert to
anything that would give its position away. But still there
was no sign of her prey. She crept under a
patch of vines that were still green, with everything else
around her a dead gray, and she laid down and
her legs under her, ready to bolt if she needed to,
And she watched, and she listened. Her nocturnal vision caught
a slight movement and she locked her eyes on that position,
and what she saw was a straight, vertical line that
did not belong in the woods. It moved slightly and
then swayed and went still, and then it moved again
as she focused harder, and instinct told her to back
out and leave the area, but she was too hungry,
so she inched forward, allowing her line of sight to
see better the possible prey in front of her. It
wasn't a baby, but it was a smaller version of
the adults. The juvenile swine stood on its back, two legs,
its front legs just an inch off the ground, and
it struggled. It was wounded and under stress, the perfect
prey right there for her to take. So she slowly
rose from her crouch and was in motion to quickly
grab the animal and kill it and head straight back
to her den when a screech she had not heard
before ignited the forest. Shifting her head back and forth,
she looked for the noise, but the scent hit her
before she saw it. It was the danger that she
had tried hard to avoid. The whole forest erupted around her,
with the new creatures running in from all directions. Not
knowing which way to run, she got lower and became
part of the forest floor and waited to find a
gap to escape. They were the largest animal in the woods,
larger than anything she had encountered. They were screaming and
wailing and smelling up the area, and one ran two
feet to her side, and it never saw her, and
she stayed still, more afraid than anything, knowing that if
she moved, they would find her, but their attention was
not on her. It was directed at the screaming ahead
close to the animal prey that she had seen just
a minute ago. The monsters ran past her prey and
gathered around one of their own, fighting the same vertical
line that she had seen the pig attached to. The
creatures were so involved with their own trying to pull
it loose from the string that she saw her opportunity
to dart in and grab the pig and leave before
they knew she was there. It was a fast run
and a quick bite and a pivot back out of
the area, but the pig jerked out of her mouth.
Was it worth another try? Her hunger said yes, so
she bit harder on the pig that was now screaming
as loud as the small monster, and she jerked it
free and ran at full speed away from the area,
stopping halfway back to her den. She tasted the blood
that had flowed from the wounded pig, a bit hard
on its neck before it went limp on the ground.
But she was tired now and exhausted from the stress
and energy expended, but she picked up the kill anyway
and used her last stores of calories to get back
to the den, with the puffs there to greet her.
Peeking out at the opening, she pushed past them and
they followed her deeper into safety and food, and placing
her front paw on the pig, she began to tear
at the tough height until blood flowed and the meat
was exposed, and the pups, who had only nursed at
her belly until now, began to lap at the blood
and tear small pieces of meat from the carcass. They
fed until their bellies were full, and they all drifted
to sleep, and the female laid in the den, listening
to the holes of anguish from the creatures who had
tried to kill her days before, and the sleep fell
clicking just outside the den. The predators had survived another day.
Steve Lily sat on the beach alone. Stars shined to
his left in a blue and black sky, and to
the west, the orange glow of the sun had almost
turned to blue, told her darkness almost complete. The waves
rolled in soft slaps, and the golf Christmas Day breeze
brought the scent of the salt water. No one was
there but him, and he had found peace for now
Angela had fixed a Christmas meal for them, and Lily
had eaten every bite on his plate only an hour before.
He shifted his weight to relieve the pressure his belt
put on his full Christmas belly, and he stood and
watched the stars in the black sky. And he turned
away from the water and walked through the dunes and
across the highway to the condominium he had rented three
days before. In a moment of spontaneity for both of them,
they loaded her car and headed south for the Christmas
in New Year holiday on the Gulf of Mexico. Steve
was familiar with the area, and he had taken Angela
to some of the out of the way unless her
known places to eat. The idea was to spend a
week hold up in the condo and walking the beach,
or watching Bowl games on TV and eating. There was
no place to be on time, no one to see.
Work had been left behind, and they slept late, and
they stayed up late, and like kids again, they were free.
His handlers had not called for a squatch hunt in weeks,
which was odd. Squatches were generally more active in the
colder months, and it had been quiet in the monster
killing business since October. Steve retrieved his cell phone from
his pocket. It had been left and turned off on
the bar at the condo since they arrived. He left
the business phone with Hook before he and Angela left,
and told Hook not to call him unless it was
something Hook and Lewis and Isabelle couldn't handle on their own.
He powered his personal phone on and walked across the
holiday Abadon highway to their rental, and his phone buzz
right away, showing several voicemails from Hook and Lewis. It
was ten pm. Steve, I know your own vacation, but
you need to call me. Hook had left as the
next message in the rotation began. Look call me a sap.
It was Hook's voice again. Another message, pick up the
damn phone, asshole. It was the unmistakable voice of Lewis Shanks.
More voicemails waited from the same numbers, but he skipped
those and he called Hook. Steve sat down on the
top step leading to the deck of the condo as
Hook answered, where the hell have you been? Man? Hook asked, well,
you just left the message an hour ago. Damn I
just turned my phone on. Okay, Well, Red called an
hour ago. We need to get down south of Vicksburg
and deal with a problem. Harry ate problem. Is it
a big job? Steve asked, Well, of course she didn't
call to say hi and see how my house plans
are doing. Okay, okay, I'll need coordinates for an address.
Wear an Angelu's car, so I don't have my gear.
Can you pick it up at my house. I'm not
calling to ask you to come along, said Hook. A
swarm of envy ran up Steve's back. He felt like
the kid who hadn't been picked for a game of
kickball in school. I'm coming. Send me the damn address,
he said, more serious than Hook had heard Steve talking
a while. It's not that we don't want you to
be there. You're on vacation, brother. You got your lady
with you, and I'm sure you two were having a
good week, So just stay there. I just needed to
pass along a message. Hook shut up, and he waited
to see how Steve reacted. There was a bit of
relief in Steve's voice when he answered. Hook seemed satisfied
that he hadn't hurt his friend's feelings. Oh, I'm coming.
I wouldn't miss this for nothing. We are having a
good time, but I'm already sick of this place. Doesn't
feel right being here in the winter. I should be
in my sandals with a cooler full of beer on
the beach. So I'm coming. Angela will understand there some
message anyway, I don't know. When Red called, she told
us where to go and to read the intel on
our way down. Then she said to tell you to
call Blue as soon as you were alone. Now, she
said that twice. Steve the alone part right, Steve said,
I'll call him. Send me the location. Where is it,
I mean, what part of the country. It's a little
south of Vicksburg. I'll send the coordinates. I think I
have an address too. I'll text all that to you.
Hook hated talking on the phone, and he hoped Steve
would just say okay, so we could hang up. Well,
send it now, Steve said. Hook didn't answer, but Steve
could hear him fiddling with the phone trying to send
the information. Steve got a notification in this ere and
he opened the message and he said, you know where
this is, don't you. Yeah, said Hook, that's another reason
that you should just stay there and finish your vacation. Well,
at least we know the woods there, said Steve. I
might get there before you stop and get my gear
and come on. The place they were going to held
powerful memories for he and Steve. He wasn't sure how
Steve would do, especially if they had to go deep
into the wetlands and into the areas where the memories
took place, but there was nothing Hook could say to
change Steve's mind. He also knew if the roles were reversed,
Steve wouldn't be able to keep him out of this hunt,
no matter how bad the memories were. Davis Island was
a landmass left by the ancient, ever changing path of
the Mississippi River and surrounded on one side by the
river channel and an ox bow on the other. It
was encircled by wildlife management areas, a place where squatches
took advantage of the light hunting pressure from the locals.
It was south of Vicksburg and on the Arkansas side
of the river, but they could get there easily by
boat if they needed to. The hunt would not start there,
and Hook hoped that they would never have to go
to Davis Island. The location of the incident they were
to investigate was on the Mississippi side, on a farm
in the Delta, but it was too close to the
place where he and Steve had fought for their life
so many years ago. If they got lucky, this was
a hunt for one or two creatures and they would
be in and out. But this team was always ready
for whatever happened. That's what he thought. He headed to
Steve's place the lotus gear and connect Steve's boat to
the expedition. Steve walked back into the door of the unit.
Angela wasn't there. He called for her, and he got
no answer. She wasn't in the bedroom. He thought maybe
she had fallen asleep, but the bed was empty. The
light shone under the door of the master bathroom, and
he walked to the door and was about to tell
her that he was back when he heard her voice.
She was talking to someone over a phone. He only
caught a few words. I don't know anything about He'll
be that's all. Tell you. He's calling for me. I
have to Can we see each other soon? Steve backed
away from the door, not wanting to eavesdrop on her
phone call, while at the same time not feeling the
guilt of overhearing what she had said before she hung up.
He sat down at the kitchen table. Hey, she said,
walking into the kitchen, I thought you were sitting on
the deck. I was about to join you. You want
something to eat? Steve hesitating, The words he had heard
still on his mind, and he didn't answer, but he
stared at her. Are you okay, she asked, Still, he
stared at her, Steve, snap out of it. It's me, Angela.
I know who you are now. I'm still full from
that meal today. Listen, I've got some bad news. We've
been called into work, so to speak. We've got to
leave tonight. I'm sorry to cut this trip short, but
I don't have a choice. You mean leave now, she asked. Yeah,
I know it's a pain in the ass, but yeah,
we need to pack now and hit the road. Maybe
we can finish this job in a day or two
and we can drive back down here and still get
in a couple of days of vacation. Now, let's get moving.
You can sleep in the car, I'll drive. Well, okay, Well,
if that's the way it has to be. I assume
this is a hunt and it can't wait. Yeah, that's it.
We could have it wrapped up by tomorrow. If we
get lucky on vacation and still making money, it doesn't
get any better than that, said Steve. Angela rolled her
eyes and walked into the bedroom and began to gather
her things. Steve walked out to the deck and looked
into the night sky. Steve Lily had abandoned suspicion of
others years ago. His life had moved past that phase,
but the roots were still there. There was a time
when there was no one he could trust, and this
would take effort to suppress and remember that he probably
had a good woman here, and he elected to put
it out of his mind, admitting to himself that he
was just being paranoid. He had to get into the
right frame of mine anyway. It was time to kill squatches.
He took a long pull on his cigarette and he
thumpd the butt, arcing into the dark and landing with
a flash of orange sparks hitting the parking lot. The
phone call he overheard was still on his mind. Hook
picked up Lewis and Isabelle at the trailer park. After
loading weapons and gear into the expedition, they headed south
on Highway sixty one into the delta. You have five
hours to sober up. Hook said to both of the passengers,
I ain't drunk. Lewis said, I am full, may need
to shit somewhere down this highway. Isabelle was sound asleep
behind them, reclined in the big seat. He was drunk,
but he would be alert when they got there. Hook
had spent the day with his father watching TV and
eating junk food, and they had downed a few drinks,
but Hook wasn't drunk. Might be a good idea to
take a shit too before we get there, he thought.
Third Street turned into Highway sixty one, and they came
off the bluff into the flatlines. An occasional light illuminated
the levee to their right. The casino billboards came one
right after the other, and Hook pressed the accelerator when
the blacktop leveled out, pushing Lewis back into the cushioned seat.
Sleep ticked rhythmically on the windshield. Steve and Angela got
out of the truck and the front yard of the
bank's place. The sun had begun lighting the eastern sky.
He had enough light that he didn't need a light
to see, but he waited in front of the truck
for a few minutes to be sure, and he listened.
The winter storm was in full force now and freezing
rain and mostly sleep clicked on every object around him.
Why don't you get back into cab while I look around,
he said. Angela didn't question him and crawled back into
the warmth of the truck. The house had been built
in the middle of a grove of trees, like most
farm owner houses in the Delta. Steve could see massive
sheds just down the road, with storage silos rising behind.
He expected to see a fleet of farm equipment under
the sheds, but instead junk littered the area. Walking around
the side, more junk equipment sat resting in the back,
with the tall brown weeds up to his knees creeping
in on the old rusty heaps, and it looked like
a junk yard. But the equipment wasn't on his mind.
It was the hiding places the junk offered that kept
him alert, and he walked slowly around the house with
his eyes on the junk for anything that moved. There's
one right there. Be careful, a female voice said from
the back porch. How close is it? Steve replied, completely
unfazed by the voice. Last time I shot at it.
It was behind that plow. I've hit it twice. It
just keeps coming back. How many are there, Steve said, now,
with his pistol at the ready and backing away from
the dead weeds. Well, there's no way to know. Maybe
a dozen, maybe more, maybe a lot more. The creature's
head appeared behind a sweet gum sapling that had grown
up through the open grate of a rig. Steve didn't
wait to make out the details. His pistol eased over
and lined up on the silhouette of the head. There
aren't any people out here, right' you this thing? It's
not going to be your uncle or your cousin, is it.
My people are in the house, she said, kill it
if you can. They kept coming about one an hour.
She was standing now on the back porch, her shotgun
pointed in the general direction. Steve lined up and shot once,
and the creature dropped, and he moved to the creature
laid out in the brush and put another round in
its head. Certain now that it was dead, he moved
his attention to the woods across the field. He expected
more to come, like the lady had said, but after
waiting nothing came, so he backed up to the porch.
When he was in a position to see the area
better from the elevated porch, he counted seven squatch corpses
behind the house. There's two more on the other side
of the house, she said. She stared off into the field,
and Steve watched the sleep bounce at the edge of
the porch on to her feet, muddy toes exposed with
muddy house slippers. She only wore a house coat, and
he guessed that there was only a nightgown on under that,
and her lips were blue and she shivered. We need
to get you inside and warm you up, he said,
and slowly he put his hand on top of the
shotgun to see if she would lower it. She looked
at him for the first time, and the muscles in
her arms let go, and the gun fell, and Steve
caught it before it hit the porch floor. He nestled
his arm inside hers and walked her to the back door,
and she turned to face him. We called y'all last night.
I've been waiting all this time for you to get here.
I know you have, he said. Lily didn't think she
would understand that the cops had never planned to show
up they considered the call a prank, and they had
dismissed it. The agency had picked up on it, however,
and knew it was real and also knew that these
people were in a bad spot. I'll have to tell
Blue that he made a good call on this one,
thought Steve. Now I'm not the law, but I was
sent here to help. Steve said. She wouldn't grasp an
explanation deeper than that. In her state of mind. The
woman had a dead look in her eyes, staring out
into the foggy field. She said that they were attacking
the house every hour, sending one or two at a time,
and the wearer on her nerves and physical state had
taken a toll. Now Steve needed to get ready for
what was coming from the porch. He looked across the
field and he saw nothing. He had time to check
on Angela, and he was at the corner of the house,
and he could see the real panel of Angela's car,
and he stopped and he moved only his head until
she was visible in the driver's seat. She was on
her phone again and waving her hands and animated gestures,
and he watched her, and she tapped her hand on
the steering wheel, as if whoever she was talking to
could see her making a point whether her hands. He
backed up and he took a deep breath, and then
he walked fast around the corner to see her reaction,
and she jumped. She set a fast goodbye and dropped
the phone down to her side, and then she gave
Steve a fake smile and rolled down the window. He
didn't go to her side of the car. Instead, he
walked to the hatch in the back and tapped on
the glass. She released the hatch and Steve leaned in
to retrieve his rifle. It's dangerous to be out here.
You should follow me and get inside. He was so
matter of fact that it unsettled her. And Steve had
always been pleasant, but now he was all business. Paranoia
was setting in for her. Did he know. She followed
him to the back of the house, and he walked
onto the porch and propped his rifle against the rail.
There's a woman in there who needs your help. Can
you do that for me? I'll explain later. I need
to stay out here. Uh okay, who is It's this woman?
I don't know, but she might need your help getting
cleaned up. Can you please just go inside and do that.
She didn't answer, and she turned toward the open door
and walked down and closed it behind her. And when
Steve looked back at the door, Angela was looking at
him through the glass, and then she vanished into the house.
He unzipped the fabric case and he slid his hunting
rifle out, letting the case fall to the porch floor.
After removing the covers from the scope, he leaned the
rifle again onto the rail and removed the loaded magazines
from the pockets on the case, and he lined them
up in an organized line on the top of the rail.
The boat was pulled back and he dropped a bullet
behind the chamber, and he slid the bolt home. Safety
was on, and he inserted a mag into the bottom
of his Remington seven hundred and then raised the rifle
to his shoulder and scoped the field. Nothing moved, nothing
was coming. He stepped off the porch and walked to
the creature he had killed earlier. This was no average squatch.
It was not an alpha, but it looked older than
the squatches that he had seen in the size range.
Its muscles were to find, and the hair was not
matted and nasty like the others he had taken down,
and it appeared clean as far as an animal can
be clean, and it had only a slight odor. It
was the face of the creature that made him look twice.
Its head was big like the others, but it had
a muzzle like a dog, but not as pronounced as
a dog. It jutted forward of its nose and mouth,
and was full of razor bone white teeth. The brow
was not pronounced, like a Neanderthal type skull so prevalent
in all the varieties he had killed, this thing looked
out of a comic book. Beyond the junk heap, he
found more laying in the field with various wounds, and
they all looked the same, with little but noticeable differences.
They were all females and juvenile males, and none had
survived the shotgun blasts that had put them down. How
did you know to use buckshot, he asked the woman inside,
who would never hear the question. He counted six dead
around the house. Must have been a hell of a
night for you, he whispered back on the porch. He
scoped the field in tree line again, and still nothing
moved and He walked in the back door, bolting the
lock behind him. The house was neat and organized with
a touch of a woman, and the meal was on
the table and untouched and cold. And he moved in
the living area, where an older man sat on the
sofa with a young boy sitting next to him. The
man had a bloody towel wrapped around his leg. Are
you hurt, mad, asked Steve. One tried to drag me
in the woods. Warren paused at having to admit that
his daughter had saved him. I'd be dead now if
it wasn't for her. He poured it toward the back
of the house, and Steve looked that way. He heard
a shower running, and shadows moved in the hall. Angela
had gotten the woman out of her dirty clothing into
a hot shower. Well, what happened, asked Steve. Well, I
saw one of those things a week ago. I was
trying to catch one. Thought I could sell it at
a zoo or a circus. But I ran into this
woman and she told me to take my traps down
in so many words. I don't know where she came
from or how she knew all this, but I believed
her and I drove back here to take down the traps.
When I got out there, there was a bunch of
those things, so I tried to get back to the house,
but they caught me, dragged me a quarter mile through
the field back into the woods. Maybe my daughter saw
what was going on. I don't know. We hadn't had
a chance to talk, but I heard a shot and
the one holding onto my leg dropped dead. She came
in blazing and killed a few and we got back
to the house and she's been out there all night
fighting them off. It's the damnedest thing I ever seen. Well,
Steve nodded, looked at the little boy in diapers, who
stood stiff legged on the sofa cushion, leaning on his
grandfather's shoulder. Steve needed to get them out of there,
but for now he had to wait until they were
ready to travel. Once the woman had been cleaned up
and dressed, he would send them away, and the old
man needed to get to a doctor. Hell. She called
nine to one one last night when she got me inside.
I called him again three times between then and now,
though some bitches still hadn't showed up. Now I know
you're not a cop who are you well. I'm from
the Fish and Game agency that deals with these creatures.
It was Steve's normal response when victims of squatches asked
who he was. Well, I didn't think she lasts much
longer out there, said the old man. He changed positions
on the sofa and winced with pain. The little boy
patted his uninjured leg and looked up at his grandfather.
She's been out there all night keeping those things from
getting in the house. Now, I don't know how she
did it, but she did it, and I'm not sure
what's going on. But I'm glad you're here. Hell, I'm
glad anybody's here. Well, why didn't y'all just leave? Asked Steve.
Where every time we get ready to go to the car,
another one would show up. They were coming so often
that we just couldn't get away. And then the old man,
for the first time since the boy had lived in
the house, reached over and rubbed his head. And my buddy,
here's been keeping me company. The little boy smiled and
kept patting his grandpa's leg. Is the woman your wife,
asked Steve. Now, she's my daughter, and this is my grandson.
He ran his hand over the boy's head again with affection.
All right, de cented, she's ready. We're gonna get y'all
out of here and get you to a hospital. Is
there anything you need for that leg, Steve pointed out it.
Warren removed the towel. He had cut the pants leg off,
but still had his boot on. Four deep wounds seeped blood.
Steve could see that clotting was now slowly cutting off
the blood loss. Think you can give me another towel,
ask Warren. Steve walked into the hall, peeking around the
corner to make sure Warren's daughter was decently dressed. He
heard her and Angela in the bedroom, so he grabbed
a white towel from the closet and handed it to Warren.
My name's Steve, Lily Warren Banks. This is my grandson Nathan,
and Julia is in the other room. She's my daughter.
Angela and Julia walked into the room. Julia had changed
into jeans and a sweatshirt. Her hair was wet and
she looked tired, but she was healthy and in one piece.
Steve looked at Angela. I need you to drive them
to the hospital, and the sooner y'all leave, the better.
If this thing's you're gonna keep coming, you're all in danger.
Steve helped Warn down the front steps into Angela's car,
and Julia and Nathan got in the back row of seats,
and Angela got behind the wheel and started the car.
Be careful, she said, Should I come back after they're settled? Nope,
wait until you hear from me. I'm sure there's a
motel somewhere around here. Get a room and wait there now.
I'm sure Nathan would have fun sleeping in a motel room.
The little boy was tucked under his mother's arm and
he smiled at Steve. Now y'all get going, he said,
I need to get on that porch hook and Lewis
will be here soon, and then we'll come up with
a plan. You won't go in there after them alone,
will you, Angela asked, Not after these things? I'm not
even sure what they are, said Steve. Angela backed out
of the yard and got the car moving towards civilization,
and in the rear view mirror she saw a creature
moving fast around the house. Steve wouldn't have time to
raise his rifle, so instead he snatched AS nineteen eleven
up and put three rounds into the upper body of
the beast. Angela watched it happen in the shaking rear
view mirror. The creature tumbled dead at Steve's feet. He
looked over at the car, which was picking up speed,
and he held his barrel up and blew the smoke
off the end of the gun, and he waved at Angela.
She rolled down the window and wagged her arm back
and forth and rolled the window up. Sleep was falling hard.
The sleet had not let up and had frozen onto
the windshield, but with the engine still warm from their
drive from the Gulf, it began to defrost quickly. Warren
sat in the front seat, staring straight ahead, saying nothing.
Another stroke from the wipers and his side of the
glass made what he could see clearer ahead through the
mist of the falling ice. He saw an orange objeck
bobbing up and down a few feet closer, and he
knew it was a goggloyed woman who had given him
a warning the day before. There was no mistaking that
pear shaped figure in the road ahead. Angela started to slow.
She wasn't going to leave someone out in this mess,
but Warren told her to keep going, and he ducked
his head lower, trying to hide. Goggilile walked to the
right side of the road, and when Angela reached her,
she stopped and rolled her window down. Do you need
to ride? Instead of answering, the woman moved closer to
the car leaned her head in through the open glass,
making Angela recoil. She reached across Angela and picked up
a magazine Angela had set on the console from their
drive from the Gulf Coast, and she began slapping Warren
with it. She was trying to reach his head, but
she was too short. What did I tell you, Warren Banks?
What did I tell you? Now you've unleashed a terrible evil.
Others are going to have to deal with it on
a whole new level. Shame on you, she said, Shame
on you, boy. She stepped away and shook the sleep
from her hat and heavy coat, and she kept walking.
Everyone in the truck was silent. Nathan stirred in the
back seat and stood up and watched the woman through
the back window. Who Mama, Who is mama? The kid said,
I don't know, honey, she knows Grandpa. Apparently, Warren kept
his head low. Get me to the hospital, please. I'll
tell you all about it later. She's heading toward those monsters,
said Julia. Don't worry about her. I think she's a ghost.
Warren wagged his finger forward, telling Angela to get moving.
She rolled her window up and accelerated forward. The round
old woman in technicolor clothes faded into the distance. Steve
ran to the back porch. No creatures were attacking. He
set up in the rocking chair as before and got
ready for the next attack. While he waited, he called Hook,
where are you, Hook? We're about an hour away. You
there yet, said Hook, been here for an hour. Hurry up.
I ain't never seen one like this. One talk to us,
Lewis said loudly so Steve could hear him. Hook put
the phone on speaker and said it on the dash.
Steve went over the high points, getting them up to date,
and then he described the creatures. These things are different
and there's a lot of them. Fucker feel like I'm
in a zombie of procalypse. It's a pocalypse, said Louis.
Thanks Louis, said Steve. I can't say that word either, Steve.
No worries, Ifa, said Isabel. Isabel decided to wake up
from us five hour Nu said, Huk, I ain't your
hef a Isabelle, but I'm glad you could come. We
are going to need you, said Steve, like I was
trying to say. These things are different. They're smaller than
your average squatch. The lady who call this in has
already killed six with a shotgun alone, all by herself.
I took another one out thirty minutes ago. They go
down easy, a lot easier than those big sum bitches
we've been hunting. And there seems to be a lot
of them. Are you in the woods with them now?
Ask hug Not this time too many to deal with.
I'm gonna wait on y'all. Be careful on these roads.
Everything has a half inch of ice on it. The
road's gotta be bad, Steve said, with genuine concern for
his friends and himself. If they had an accident and
were delayed, he didn't know what was coming next, and
if the creature started coming more than one at a time,
he might have a problem. Hook. Did you get all
my gear? Yep? Most everything. I couldn't get the bazooka
in the car. We have bazukas, said Isabel I got
something for you on bray. Don't worry about it, said Hook,
smiling at Isabelle in the rear view mirror. All right,
said Steve. See you guys when you get here. Lewis
checked the GPS and verified that they were a little
less than an hour from the pen the agency had
dropped for them to navigate too. This sounds like it's
going to get complicated. Hook settled in the seat again
and tucked his phone into his coat pocket and then
concentrated on the road. To him, Steve seemed different, nervous,
like he wasn't sure how to go with this hunt.
It wasn't typical, but he wrote it off as Steve
never dealing with this type of creature. Eight creatures had
already been killed, maybe more. This was a huge payday already,
and the team had not even started the hunt. Hook's
phone rang in his pocket and he answered, Hook, did
you tell Steve to call me Blue? I did? Then,
why hasn't he called me? Blue was agitated. I don't know.
We just talked to him. He has his hands full
at the moment. He's alone right now. Why don't you
call him Roger? That said Blue, and he disconnected the call.
Lewis looked over at Hook. What's that all about? Everybody's
asking me questions that I don't know. How am I
supposed to know what it's all about? You should have
asked Blue, what's going on? Said Lewis. You have to
be curious now, Lewis was agitated. Well I'm not curious, Lewis.
You want to know why, because I don't give a shit.
I'm not his mama, and that means I figured the
man can handle his own affairs. Why would I give
a damn if he calls Blue or not. I told
him to call him, Well it might be important, That's
all I'm saying. Damn, man, why you so aggravated? Lewis
leaned over at Hook. Look, man, I'm sorry, said Hook.
Something about this gig me nervous. Didn't mean to take
it out on you, but I'm not getting into the shit.
Blue needs to tell Steve. He'll let us know if
it has anything to do with us. All right, good enough,
said Louis. Then he punched hooking the shoulder. Asshole, said Louis.
Steve scoped the trees again, nothing moved. Angela had driven
off an hour ago. Hadn't heard from her, but he
was sure they were fine. Maybe it was taking time
to get warn into the er, so Steve settled back
in the rocker and pushed with his legs to get
the rhythm going. The boards creaked under the chair. He
checked the trees to the left, two hundred yards away,
and still there was no movement. The animals that lay
in the yard behind the house were darker than the
average squatch, and he was sure that he would see
them coming at the house. Without the scope, they wouldn't
blend in with the light colors and gray of the delta.
He brought his eyes back to directly behind the porch
and a woman stood out in the yard, and it
surprised him. She was facing away from him. She was
wearing weird colors, and she was bottled up. He had
a hard time hearing what she was saying, but she
was talking, ma'am, do you want to come up here
on this porch and get out of the weather, And
she turned to face him. Always concerned with other people's comforts, Steve, Lily,
you never put anyone behind you. You haven't changed a bit. Well,
he knew the voice, and when she looked up at him.
He recognized the eye and the scar on her face.
He knew this woman, Agatha, He said in a soft tone, Avaca, bitting.
Lord knows. It's good to see you, boy. She stepped
up even with him as he stood from the chair.
Steve didn't say a word. He reached out and embraced
his old friend, and he held her tight for too long,
so long that she pushed him away. Damn, boy, you
were always affectionate. Ain't you cold out here? I'm freezing
been walking around these parts in this hellish weather. I
need something hot in this old body to warm me up.
Come on in and I'll make some coffee. Lily was
hypnotized and speechless, but he had enough sense to know
that if he went inside, the creatures would come without
him seeing them all. Honey, they're done for the day.
They won't come back till it gets dark. Take this
time with me to rest and gather your strength. Lord
knows you and those boys that are coming to help
you is gonna need it. And she walked inside, and
Steve followed. Agatha went straight to the coffee maker and
opened the cabinet until she found the coffee and filters.
Steve sat at the table. I thought you were dead,
she cut him off. Yeah, I should be with me,
wandering around these parts and dealing with these visions. But
you know how it is, don't you. When you see
what's coming, you have to warn the innocent. You do
know that, right, Well, my visions are not dependable. They
never have been. Now. I know you remember me telling
you these things. I told Sarah too, and she talks
just like you do. I don't trust them, and I've
been wrong before and I end up looking like a fool.
So I've cut my mouth shut all these years. Steve
looked down at the table and scratched off some dried
food from the bank's Christmas breakfast. You haven't given yourself
over to it, she said. That's the same thing Sarah said.
He looked up at the old woman. The coffee trickled
into the pot and the room began to fill with
the aroma. Nick calmed him, a bit give myself over
to this and that trusting something I don't know anything about.
That's okay for you and her and all the other
psychos out there, but it doesn't work for me. Agatha
poured two cups and sat down, pushing a mug I
can't help you with that, she said. You have to
figure it out and understand it and compartmentalize your thoughts
and visions. You'll learn to sift through what your mind
is injecting from your life and what the real future
might be. Now, it's a gift of those who have
an empathetic heart. That's what I think. If I had
met another like us with a dark heart, I couldn't
say this. So be open to it and try to
calm your mind when the visions or the sight comes
to you. Steve Lily had been sent into exile or
hiding when he was a young man. Many wanted his
life for a righteous act that he committed when he
was only sixteen, and during his exile he fought battles
against men who wanted him dead, and he had been
wounded trying just to survive, once to the point that
he should not have recovered. But Agatha was there during
that time, and she brought him back. He looked at
her face and the gray hair hung in cloth slumps
and matted tangles, and she reached into her pocket and
then pulled her hair back into a ponytail and wrapped
the hairtie around it. Her face was exactly the same,
but a little older. It should have been much older,
because the last time that Steve had seen Agatha was
over forty years ago. He didn't know how old she
was back then, but she had to be at least sixty,
and she shows back up forty years later and looks
almost the same. Hell. She ought to be dead, he thought,
But even now, her voice and the demeanor gave Steve
some peace, just as she had done for months while
he lay in a bed close to death. The upcoming
fight with the strange creatures left his mind, and he
listened to her without interruption, and he lost track of time.
A vehicle driving into the yard brought him back to
the present, and he stood up and was about to
greet them at the door when Agatha placed her hand
on his arm. Sit down for a minute, honey, and
Steve dropped back in the chair. Your men wait for
you while I tell you this. Now, these creatures you're
about to kill are not the same as the others
you've hunted. She paused, and Steve wondered how the hell
she knew all this and what he had been doing
for the last few years. She continued, They're faster, and
they're more vicious, but they're easier to kill, so you'll
have to be fast. Now, I'm going to tell you
some things that won't make sense, but it'll make sense
in time. Now, the creatures you hunt now are not
from this world, but they have been a part of
this world for a thousand years. They've adapted and changed
and evolved and gotten smarter. And there aren't many of them.
The last time they came to this world was within
a brief moment in time, a door opened and then
it closed, and only a few got through. But this
time the door has been opened longer than ever, and
they're finding their way here in good numbers. They haven't
adapted to this world, and they don't know anything about
the woods the guns that people use, and that makes
them easier to kill. But you'll have to shut that
door if it doesn't close on its own. Do you
understand what I'm telling you, Agatha, I don't understand the
damn words you just said. Well you will, Agatha patted
his arm. Now go let your friends inside. That's a
big pot of coffee over there. Steve smiled and squeezed
her small hand and went to the door where he
waved the squatch hunters inside. He returned to the kitchen,
wanting to hug his friend, but she was gone out
on the back porch. He yelled at Agatha, where are
you going? You'll freeze out there, and she waved and
kept walking, and he knew not to follow her, and
he didn't know if he would ever see her again.
Who was that walking around the house, asked Lewis. That
was Agatha Minton. Steve said, get the fuck out, Hook said,
are you sure that was her? Damn? How old is
she now? A hundred? I don't know how old she is,
but that was her or her ghost? She looks about
the same except for the clothes and that hat. She
still got that stone dice she got when Steve trailed
off and shut up. Yeah, I remember, said Hook. She
took care of you and herself at the same time.
Always liked her, but she still freaks me out a little.
What the hell are y'all talking about? Said Lewis, Story
for another time, Steve said, turning to walk into the kitchen. Okay,
you fellow's gonna have to let me in on some
of these secrets at some point. You're making me paranoid. Look, dude,
let's get this job done and I'll tell you everything
you want to know about Agatha, said Hook. What's the plan?
If he asked Isabelle. Steve sat down at the table.
I haven't had time to think about it. I've been
dealing with the other stuff. Let me tell you what
I know, and let's get some ideas. I don't even
know where to start. The other men joined Steve at
the table, except Hook, who walked to a window where
he could see into the beanfield. The sleet had led
up just a little, and it turned to drizzling and rain.
The temperature was rising and a misty Hayes settled low
to the ground, and he couldn't see where the woods started. Steve,
how far the woods, asked Hook? Maybe three hundred yards.
Hook left the kitchen and walked out to his car,
and he opened the rear door and took out a
rifle bag, and then walked around to the backyard. He
had a new rifle he had been practicing with at
the rains. It's a fifty caliber bolt rifle, a McMillan
tack dashed fifty C with a thermal vision scope on top.
He had spent weeks getting to know the rifle, and
he found that he loved just shooting at the targets.
Lewis found the rifle and gave it to Hook. Hook,
having watched the video of a man using one to
kill a deer, had to have one. The round never
hit the deer, but flew ten inches to the left
of the animal's head, but the cushion or the shockwave
from the large bullet dropped the deer anyway. Hook began
studying the fifty cow round and he learned that the
concussion from the bullet would not do damage to flesh
and bone, but he had seen this in a video
and he remained interested on the range, and after getting
a feel for the rifle, he began to become proficient
with it. He thought it would come in handy for
long shots, even long shots in the dark, which is
why he bought the thermal vision scope. He could see
the squatches a long way off, but they couldn't see him,
and he liked that advantage. With the rifle over his shoulder,
Hook walked to an old bulldozer that looked like it
had been abandoned fifty years earlier. The front blade was
the height he needed for a rifle. Rest of this
rifle was heavy, and it was not a weapon to
use off hand. He would always need a rest. He
took off his coat and pulled the rifle in close
and settled on a spot where he would be comfortable
looking through the scope, and he flipped on the thermal
imaging feature. He allowed his eye to adjust to the
images and the scope he could make out tree trunks
and limbs with great clarity. Lowering the rifles slightly to
get the ground in view, he scanned to the right
a few feet and he got a hit. A squatch
stood just beyond where the tree started rocking back and forth,
shifting its weight from one leg to the other, like
it was anxious or impatient. Further to the right, he
saw another bigger than the first, and by the time
he had scanned a one hundred yard section of tree line,
he counted fourteen creatures, all in the same posture, but
in varying sizes. The others had walked onto the porch.
They're out there, I count fourteen, Hook said, without taking
his eye from the scope. Isabelle, go get our night
vision gear and let's scan the trees and see what
we can see. Said Steve Lewis went with Isabelle and
gathered up the rifles for each men. After they had
looked through the fog in the mist, they discovered there
were more than fourteen creatures. Those fuckers are everywhere, said Steve. Okay,
what's the plan, said Lewis.
Speaker 1: Hook.
Speaker 2: Why don't you take the biggest one you can see
out with that big cannon, said Steve. Hook looked back
and grinned my pleasure. Don't hit him in the head,
said Louis. I guess I don't need to tell you that.
The big rifle boomed and made the other three jump,
and when Hook got his eye back in the scope,
chunks of bigfoot were still falling. A warm white material
had sprayed the trees and other squatches standing close. I
think I exploded it, Hook said. Can y'all see that
big gass leg laying in the field. Get you another one, killer,
said Steve, and Hook loaded another bullet and fired. When
five creatures had been misted, Hook released the magazine and
reached for another one. Steve asked him to hold up,
and they looked to see what was happening. Steve expected
the creatures to run away, but they didn't. The monsters
were running across the muddy fields straight at them. Are
you seeing what I'm seeing? Hook asked anyone who could
hear him. He never got an answer except for a
rifle going off to his left. The men moved up
and took up positions around the junk, lighting the perimeter
of the yard, and their rifles were equipped with tactical
infrared scopes, but at the distance they were looking, they
could not judge the distance and wouldn't until the creatures
got within about two hundred yards, but they fired anyway,
trying to get their range. Hook exploded another one just
a few feet into its charge. A lot of AMMO
was being expended, but few monsters were hitting the ground.
Lewis moved up to and beside a piece of farm equipment,
and he got his legs tangled in some ringing that
he hadn't seen due to the gaggle of brush and
weeds that had never been cut. He fell face first
in the weeds and started fighting to get up. Steve
and Isabelle finally got their range figured and were dropping squatches.
The Bond's eye attack had made it within one hundred yards,
and they weren't killing them fast. Enough. Lewis still fought
to get his legs untangle from the loose cables strewn
about the ground, and Hook's last shot went high, and
he knew the creatures were too close for his scope
to be accurate, so he dropped the fifty cow and
ran back to the porch, picking up his A ten
and lifted it to his shoulder, and then yelled at
the others. Steve everything in the left quarter. Isabelle take
the quarter to the right of Steve. Lewis, you take
the right quarter, and I'll kill anything that gets too
close to any of you guys. They knew what Hook meant.
He could see what was happening better from the elevated porch.
Every squatch in this charge was visible now, but they
were still blurry in the mist, yet still enough to
and two rifles started cutting down the fast creatures that
were now only fifty yards away. Hook looked over at Lewis.
He was still on the ground, kicking at the cables
wrapped around his legs and his rifle was flailing in
the air while he fought the trap. Louis you checking
all on that piece of equipment? We need you, brother.
They almost hear yelled Hook, I can't get loose of
this shit. Goddamn it, said Lewis in a defeated voice. Fuck,
said Hook, I'm coming. Hook had no choice, despite the
fact that Steve and Isabelle may not drop the threats
headed at them. But Hook saw three beasts bearing down
on Lewis. He didn't think he could see Lewis yet,
but they would once they got into the yard. He
hit the leading squatch in the head, sending it head
over heels into the mud. He lined up on the
next one and squeezed two rounds off, crippling the beast.
It lay only feet from Lewis's position, writhing in pain
from the caliber wounds that had shredded its legs. The
last one was in mid air over the big rusty
disk when Hook saw it again. It would land behind Lewis,
but it would surely see him once he was there.
So Hook ran from the porch, yelling and waving his
rifle to get the creature's attention, hoping it wouldn't notice
Lewis on the ground. He couldn't shoot, though he might
hit Lewis. When the creature landed and rolled to its feet,
it stopped and looked back at Lewis. Hook was still
running at the creature and saw where its attention was directed,
and he raised his rifle and sent around, whizzing past
the animal's head, and that got its attention. Hook caught
a quick glimpse of Lewis on the ground, had a
pained and helpless look on his face, and when Hook
had an angle on the squatch that wouldn't put Lewis
in the line of fire, he snapped off two rounds,
both smacking the beast in the chest, and Hook stopped
and checked to see a fluid had had a heart attack.
You okay, Hook said, yeah, you need some help, Yeah,
if you don't mind. Hook swiveled his head towards Steve
and Isabel and watched the last squatch leap. For Isabel,
he had dropped his rifle, obviously out of bullets, and
when no time to reload, and had his knife out.
It was a bowie style knife Hook had given Isabel,
and the blade shined despite the lack of sunshine, and
Isabel raised his body to take on the beast when
Steve took it out, but still it fell on Isabel,
impaling itself on an ice. If what the fuck I
had him, said isabel No doubt. Ifto Bud, I had
one bullet left, figured i'd use it to save you
the next time I pulled his knife. Don't shoot. Let
me do my thing, Isabelle screamed at Steve. Oh okay,
I'm sorry. Steve looked for Hook and Lewis. Hook helped
Lewis up stood on the cable so that Louis could
break his feet free. You see any more coming, said
Louis as he was getting up. Looks like we've got
them all, said Hook. You sure you're okay? Damn man,
Get me to the porch. Hook and Louis were sitting
on the old couch when Steve and Isabelle walked up
the steps. Steve turned and looked back to the field,
and he was quiet for a while. They were all
out of words, and they began to collect their wits.
Well that was different, said Steve. I guess the big
rifle pissed them off, said Hook. That's an understatement, Isabelle
chimed in. What happened to you? Louis? Steve looked at
him with affection. Oh, Steve is the damnedest thing. It's
the damnedest thing. I've ever seen, Louis said, while shaking
his head. It's those giant feet you have, buddy. I
don't know how you even lift those boots off the ground.
They're so big. It's okay, shake it off. Everyone's okay
and ready to fight. Now we've got to figure out
how to kill all these things, Steve, still staring off
into the field, knowing more we're out there. The rain
had stopped and the fog was fading, and Hook used
the night vision goggles to look across the field again.
He could see the trees, but the night vision would
pick up heat signatures, and he saw four targets. There's
only four out there in the trees. Now you think
we've killed them all. Well, you just said there's four
out there, so we obviously didn't kill them all, said Steve.
Did you say the satellites were down? You said that, right,
That's what Red told me when she called. I haven't
heard from her since. Be worth calling her back and
see if they fixed the problem, said Hook. I bet
she'd let us know, said Steve, Hey, Hook, is that
one out there moving in the field in front of
the junk where Lewis had almost died? A squatch moved.
It was clawing at the mud, trying to get back
to the tree line. It only had three hundred yards
to go, but still it was making an effort. Isabel
got down off the porch. Each man had reloaded his
rifle on the way back to the porch. Isabel had
a full mag and when he got close to the creature,
the thing swiped at his legs with its big claws,
missing him. And Isabel looked at the creature trying to
try to crawl, and he walked in pace with the monster,
studying its features. His attention was drawn to the wounds
in its legs, nasty holes seak blood and sinew, leaving
a trail in the mud. It stopped and rolled onto
its back, and it looked up at isabelle He was
repulsed by its mouth full of sharp teeth and its
elongated muzzle. Its tongue came out, licked its teeth, and
the tongue retracted in a never closing orifice, and Isabel
thought about how uncomfortable it would be to have a
skanky set of teeth like that. He shot at the
head and he walked back to the porch. Are we
sure they're all did, he said, sitting down in a rocker.
I don't see any of them moving. They aren't hard
to take down, said Hook. It's weird. I've never seen
squatches go down this easy. Well, they make up Ford
in numbers, said Lewis. Those fuckers came out like a
swarm of hornets. We need that thermal imaging from the
satellite if we're going to stay after these things. It's
not smart to go in there with no intel. I agree,
said Steve, but I'm not sure what to do about that.
Maybe this technology spoiled us. You know, we hunted these
things for a long time without it. But you're right.
Something is different about these things. Something tells me they
want to hunt us. Let's think this through. I mean,
what pissed them off and made them come after the
old man? He said something about traps, but he never
said what happened. He just hit the high points and
they hung back for a long time after the old
man and his family left with Angela. Until you missed it.
If you with your fifty cow hook that seemed to
set up them off, well, then it's not rocket science, Steve,
said Lewis. Every time we hurt one of theirs. They
want some payback. Why is that so hard for you
to understand? I think we just need to keep killing
them until they're all dead. Steve thought about that for
a minute, and he said, yeah, I would go along
with that. But Agatha said something about them coming through
a door, and that they would keep coming until the
door was closed. If I'm totally lost, who is Agatha?
And what the hell are you talking about a door?
Isabel was trying to make sense of the conversation. Steve
had not had time to explain his meeting with Agatha,
so we got everyone up today. I still don't understand
what she means by a door, said Isabel. I guess
we'll have to figure it out, said Steve. The men
looked out over the killing field and they started counting
and adding up the bounty so far. The number was impressive,
bigger than any amount they had earned in their career
as squatch hunters. Hook raised the field glasses again, looking
for additional squatches that may have appeared, but only the
four were there, pacing slowly in the trees. We still
have four big ones we can see. How about I
take them out with the fifty? That might be all
of them, said, hook, won't you hold tight? Brother, said Steve,
and he reached for a phone in his pocket, and
he called Angela to make sure they had gotten the
old man to the er and that they had found
a place to stay. A female voice answered, but it
wasn't Angela. Julia told Steve that Angela had gotten her
father to the er and they couldn't do much with
the puncture wounds in his legs, so they started him
on antibiotics and bandaged this leg, and then they discharged him.
She said that Angela had gotten them a room at
a local motel and had left to go get some food. Well,
I'm surprised she left her phone, said Steve. No, she
said that she's got two phones and that I could
use this one if I needed to call anyone. Okay,
said Steve. He didn't know she carried two phones. Who
the hell carries two phones? He thought? Have you all
had to deal with any more of those creatures, asked Julia. Yeah,
a couple, but they're not a problem. We'll have this
wrapped up in a day or two. You might have
to stay there until we get it done, though, he said, Well,
daddy's feeling better and We're warm and safe. We didn't
expect to be back at home right away, and thank
you for helping us, sir. We'll talk to you later,
said Steve, and he hung up. Steve had had relationships
with women through the years. He had never made big
commitments because of his lifestyle. It wouldn't be fair to
a wife and possible children. He was getting too old
to have children at this point, so that wasn't a concern,
but he liked being single and having the freedom to
do what he wanted when he wanted. When he parted
ways with women in the past, he didn't make a
dramatic or even an emotional scene. He just stopped calling
the dropped him like a rock. To him, there was
no point in arguing over the situation. He had made
up his mind and nothing would change that, and eventually
they would get the picture and they'd leave him alone.
In his mind, relationships with women were enough work anyway
to keep them happy, because to have a relationship meant
putting time in it, and he thought that Angela was
one that didn't require an emotional, high maintenance effort. She
was pretty and that was a big part of the attraction,
but she also appeared to be stable. There was no
x from the past that would give them trouble that
he knew of, no psychotic sort of personality tics. She
wasn't a closet meth addict, and so he fell into
it with her. But with men like Steve Lily, he
could drop her on a thought and never think about
her again. This phone bullshit was getting under his skin.
He didn't care if she had another boyfriend. He wasn't
a jealous man. Steve just dealt with honesty and truth.
She was hiding something and he didn't care what it was,
but it reaked of another life and a secret that
she kept from him when she had no reason to
do that. Steve Lily was halfway to walking away from
this one, like he had done a half a dozen
times before, but he would give her the benefit of
the doubt and wait. Maybe he was wrong and it
was something simple, and he hoped that was the case.
Steve had walked off the porch and into the yard
while talking on the phone to the others. He seemed
lost and in deep thought. Yo, fa you okay out there?
Isabelle said? Yep, said Steve. What's the plan? Asked Lewis
I don't have a plan, he said. I don't want
to walk us into the woods, blinding eating by those things.
I'm popping these four with the fifty, said Hook. He
was impatient and raring to get in the fight and
missed a squatch with a fifty. One more time, Hook,
give me ten minutes. You can shoot your big gun
all you want. It'd be safer than going in there
with them. But first, let me call the agency and
find out what's up with the satellite. Oh yeah, I
forgot to tell you, said Hook. Blue says he needs
to talk to you. Well, what does he have on
his mind? Well, hell, that's the same question Lewis asked
me today. I don't know, and I don't care, said
he needed to talk to you, That's all I know.
Hook walked inside to get his big rifle. Hi, mister Lily,
how may I direct your call? A woman said into
the phone. Steve guessed she was twelve years old by
her voice, but he knew better. Blue, please one moment.
Where do they get these phone answering girls? Steve said
they sound like grade school students. I've noticed that too,
said Hook. I wonder who does the hiring Steve agent
Blue said into the phone. How's it going down there?
The satellites must still be down, Steve said, I assume
you'll be watching this real time. That's true. We think
they'll be back online in the next two to three hours.
We aren't the only agency that uses them. Everybody's raising
hell about it. Imagine, so, said Steve. We've taken out several,
but this hunt is really not a hunt. They're coming
at us almost like they're using military style charges at
this house, and we are still here and there's no
reason to move as long as they keep coming to us. Well,
that's not normal behavior for these creatures, said Blue. Well,
these aren't the usual creatures. There's something different about them.
They're smaller and faster, and if they get a hold
of one of us, they're probably more vicious. They have
a muscle and it's full of terrible teeth. I've seen
some with muscles, but not with this set of teeth.
They do go down easy, though, one shot takes them
out of the game, so that is an advantage. Okay,
said Blue. I want you to stand by until we
get eyes in the sky again. We can assess what
you're up against. At that point, Blue waited, for Steve's response. Yeah,
it's dark now. Anyway, these boys hadn't had any sleep
in a while. We may stay put until daylight. I
hope you can get some intel by then. That's a
good plan. Hey, Steve, I have something else for you,
said Blue. All right, fire away. I know you remember
Renee Tenzit and Tom chat them. You know we monitor
websites that make these creatures a topic. Blue started, Okay,
what about them, Steve. It's not a secret that they
hate you and your crew for messing up their campouts
at the Big Thicket and on the Hatchie River. Hell
that was a while back, said Steve. They still holding
a grudge. I don't think it has anything to do
with the grudge, but they do hate you. You cost
them money and that's all they're in this for. Lately,
they've made several uploads to their website talking about a
team in the Mid South that hunts and kills the
Sasquatch people. It's like they're the Pta of the cryptid world.
Really weird, you know, save the Bigfoots. They're obviously talking
about your team. Now. They will not confront you face
to face, and they've been smart enough not to say
your names. The information they've been putting out to their
followers is vague and they're teasing a bigger story. They've
gathered quite a following and their supporters are like rabid
dogs wanting to know who they're talking about. Now, we
think if they ever say your names, you're not necessarily
in danger, but your team will be in for some
harassment and that's not good for business on your end
or our end. I'm not worried about that, said Steve.
Blue went further. They partner with a man in Canada
to document what you do. His name is Stu Dishman.
He has a website with the same rabid followers. He
has sworn to his followers that he's going to reveal
who you are and let your addresses out. If he
does that, this whole thing could fall apart and we'll
lose you as a team, and that means more people
will be in danger. And by the way, deaths and
disappearances from Sosquatch or way down since you've come on
board a few years ago. I know you're getting paid,
but you're doing great work and you're saving lives. I see,
said Steve. If they find us and send people to
harass us, and we have ways to deal with that.
It doesn't bother us at all. I believe you, said, Blue,
but I have bad news for you, Blue paused. The
coordinates of where you are now have been given to Dishman,
and we think he caught a flight to New Orleans
and will be heading your way tomorrow. I don't know
what he has in mind. Probably try to make videos
of your team. He might even tried to disrupt a hunt.
He bragged about that in his latest video, something about
saving the wisdom of the ancient people. These fuckers are crazy,
but we can't stop him. They're all hustlers looking for
anything to get clicks and make money off their websites.
But if he shows up, and it sounds like he might,
and if he documents any kills, well that's a problem.
Steve thought about it for a minute. If he jumps
in these woods, these things will kill him before he
gets twenty yards inside the trees. Steve said, if he's
that stupid, then I say let him come on. Any
documentation he gets will be destroyed along with him. But
I don't think he's going to get any, so this
is not a problem. How did he get the location,
asked Steve, you understand that we don't have the spy
in capabilities of other agencies, but we have friends who
can get information for us. We called in a favor
to find out who it is because it's critical to
at least keep your operations low key, and we have
verified that the information was sent from a second phone
number belonging to your neighbor and girlfriend, Angela. Steve stood
on the porch, open mouthed. He had no words, but
Blue weighted now he knew what the shady stuff with
Angela over the last week had been about. His only
thought was when had she turned on him? Had she
been there the whole time like a spy trying to
get close so she could stab him in the back.
But right then it didn't matter, so he pushed it
to the back of his mind. Blue's voice broke the silence. Now, look,
I know this is hard to hear, but we verified
that she sent him the GEO location of that house
last night. She must have gotten it from your phone
and passed it on to Dishman. He could show up
any time to keep an eye. I ain't worried about him,
and I ain't shook up over Angela and I can
deal with her and we can make life real hard
on this Dishman person. Roger that said, Blue, you will
hear from us a minute. We have eyes in the sky.
The good luck. You better get a big plane. Fly
all that money down here. When we're done, it's going
to be a big payday for this bunch of rednecks.
I'll bring it myself and we're happy to pay the bounties,
and Blue disconnected the line. Steve walked into the house grinning.
He didn't care what he was up against. Everything was
always hard in this game. As long as he knew
what he was dealing with, that was all that mattered.
And this mood got bad as he walked into the kitchen.
We're going to have a satellite image before daylight. Boys,
I'll keep watch while you get some sleep. Somebody relieve me.
In three hours, the team each found a place to
get comfortable, and in ten minutes they were all snoring.
Angela had not left the family at the motel to
buy groceries. Instead, she lied to them and headed straight
to the Louis Armstrong International Airport in New Orleans to
pick up stew Dishman. He was waiting on the baggage
claim deck. Hey how long have you been waiting? She asked,
Too long? Where have you been, said Dishman. Well, I've
been driving here. You just told me to come get
you a few hours ago. It's a four and a
half hour drive. Are you mad at me? Angela asked,
her lip quivered. Just get us to the site to
document these douchebags killing the SABE people. Are we really
four and a half hours away? Yes, she said, And
I need to get gas and then I'll get us
there as fast as I can. Now limited out my
credit card buying you this plane ticket, so you'll have
to pay for the gas. Are you kidding me? You
know the government levied my bank accounts. All my PayPal
money is locked up. I have a couple of one
hundred on me, but I can't waste it on gas.
You're gonna have to do something else. Angela was almost
in tears. She had not experienced this side of him,
and even though this was the first time they had
met face to face, she was shocked at his behavior.
Dishman had spent the last four months sending emails and
talking with her over the phone. He seemed like the
nicest guy, and she thought they had a romantic connection.
He led her to believe that, and better than that,
he acted like he was a successful businessman, bragging about
the revenue from his website and the hundreds of thousands
of dollars he had raised from average people giving money
to fund a website and a podcast that he promised
would rival the most popular Sasquatch websites in the world.
That was two years ago, and none of that had
happened until the day he had to report to his
followers that the government had persecuted him by seizing his
money for telling the truth about Sasquatch, a truth that
he claimed the government would go to any limit to
keep covered up. In truth, none of Dishman's accounts had
been seized. He was a grifter, a self made celebrity
who had all the personality traits of a sociopathic cult leader,
and people followed him in droves, and many still contributed
to his promises of revealing the truth that the governments
had held secret for so many years regards the Sasquatch creatures.
The money was still in the accounts, and it was
growing each day. Another truth was that Dishman had never
seen a sasquatch. He repeated stories he had heard all
his life and made himself the one who experienced the encounters.
It wasn't that he didn't believe they were real. He
was pretty sure that they were. But that didn't matter
to stew Dishman. This was like studio wrestling to him.
The more he talked about it, the more believable he
made the stories, the more money he made. He was
good at this, and he knew it. Angela looked down
at the steering wheel while they pulled away from the
airport deck and said, well, I have a twenty dollars
bill in my purse and I was saving that for food.
I guess I can use that. But now I'm going
to hold you to your promise that when you're a
council free that you will reimburse me for everything, plus
the ten thousand dollars for getting you close to Steve
Lilly's team. Find a gas station as all, he said.
After filling the tank halfway enough to get them to Vicksburg,
they headed north. The roads had not melted and travel
was sketchy in places due to the eystorm. Dishman sat
in the passenger seat for the entire ride, looking at
his mobile phone, never speaking to Angela. That's when she
knew she had made a big mistake. The female coyote
poked her head from the den and sniffed the air.
The scent of the creatures had been there since she
had taken the pig from the trap. They were close,
and she didn't dare come into the open and give
her din away. She backed into the den and settled in,
and the pups began to nurse. The meal had restored
her strength, and the pups were quiet as she waited
patiently for the scent of danger to go away so
she could hunt again. She instinctively knew she had a day,
maybe more, before she would need to replace the calories
being removed from her body by the pups. She closed
her eyes and listened to The next winter storm began,
and the clicking of sleep lulled her into a deep sleep.
Stay tuned for part two of the Open Door in
Steve Lily, episode seventeen