Evil Origins: A Horror & Dark Fantasy Collection, Page 2

  Alone.

  The younger, more aggressive males became excited by the thought. Single prey meant greater success in the kill. The wolves nudged each other, even going so far as to bare teeth to preserve the attack order. After the alpha male had eaten, a battle would ensue for the bloody remains.

  The alpha male spun with his hackles raised. He growled and bared pointy, yellow teeth at his pack. They would fear him or be consumed by him. At least that was how it had always been. The others cowered, especially the females and the cubs. A few of the more mature males skittered to the side but did not retreat. They sized up the alpha male, sensing that they too might someday lead the pack. Someday.

  Now.

  He reared his head and howled. The rest of the pack imitated the alpha male until the sound consumed the dead of the night. He raced from his lead position toward the fire, with the pack following, dashing between trunks, through the remains of yellow tape, and over lonely shoes with decayed laces. He sprinted over forgotten bones and rotted, canvas tents. He kicked the artifacts of the world to the side, where they tumbled into silent obscurity.

  The fire grew as the alpha male led his pack to the fight. It had been a long time since human blood had spilled in the valley, and the alpha male basked in the anticipation. Although his eyes had lost range and focus, he was able to detect the human form against the tree on the far side of the fire. The yellow and green flames distorted the shape, but not enough to confuse the alpha male. The pack snapped at each other’s tails as they followed the leader to the kill zone. Females, cubs, and old wolves became lost in the instinctual euphoria of the kill.

  He flew from the path, dashed around a fallen limb, and turned straight for his prey. The alpha male’s eyes lit, his snout pulsing with the chemicals of the human scent. He made one final lunge to the right of the fire and skidded to a halt in the dry dirt at the base of the tree. His head twitched back and forth at the shirt and pair of pants tacked there, and he did not need to communicate his disgust and disappointment to the pack. His belly growled in protest of the ruse.

  Chapter 2

  The leader approached his prey and looked up. The rest of the pack filled in behind the alpha male but kept their distance from the unnatural fire. The creature paced around the flames, sniffing the objects on the ground, and then craned its neck upward at the feet of the human.

  It must come down. That is the command given and the one I must follow.

  The rest of the pack whined and shuffled about. Several of the cubs lay on the ground, enjoying the meager warmth provided by the man’s fire, while the male wolves stood behind the leader and looked up into the tree.

  “Leave me alone,” Samuel shouted to the beasts below.

  He thought he could hear the alpha male chuckle. The sound escaped the wolf’s muzzle like a short guffaw.

  “Get out of here.”

  The wolves stood at attention, staring up at him. One would break off, circle its tail, and then come back to attention at the base of the tree.

  Samuel looked up into the pine. Branches sprouted from the base of the trunk like a pinwheel extending up into the blackness. Tendrils of smoke raced between them as the fire burned down to yellow coals, releasing the hiss of water inside the damp wood. Samuel reached for the next closest branch and climbed higher, until he sat on a wider branch, taking a deep breath and looking down at the pack twenty feet below.

  We wait.

  The alpha male dropped its hind legs to the ground, and its ears came up. The other hunters did the same, while the female wolves attended to nursing cubs. The pack formed a circle around the base of the tree.

  Samuel felt a rumble in his stomach, and a pain gripped his side. He could not remember the last time he ate. He rubbed the blooming bruises on his neck, the painful reminder of his time inside the noose. Samuel looked out from the trees, convinced that he had found temporary refuge from the pack. A sliver of the moon appeared above the canopy of pines, blossoming like spilt milk into the night sky.

  Are wolves nocturnal? They’ll go back to the den once the sun comes up, Samuel thought.

  Samuel watched as a new light crested off the horizon. He did not see the blazing orb of his sun. He did not feel the warmth of the day. Hours passed, and yet the light failed to chase back the darkness, seeping upward until a dull grey blanket of mist descended on the forest. A quick pulse of memory shot through his head, a late-afternoon thunderstorm at the shore. The feeling lingered, but the specifics of the memory did not. He looked down at the pack. The females and cubs slept in bundles of fur, and most of the hunters rested their heads in their paws, all except one. The alpha male remained sitting, his eyes focused on Samuel.

  ***

  As the light faded yet again, Samuel felt the first cramps clutching his muscles, threatening to eject him from his safe perch. His stomach threatened to turn in on itself. He closed his eyes, unsure whether the hunger pangs could keep his mind off the muscle cramps or whether it was better to focus on the cramps to take his mind off of his hunger. Samuel’s tongue felt as though it were wrapped in cotton. Sweat dotted his forehead, while his feet felt cold and dead.

  It weakens.

  The wolves pushed up onto all fours and began circling the base of the trunk. The alpha male reared back and howled. The cubs awakened with new fervor, hunger, and bloodlust. Two hunters leapt onto the base of the tree, as if threatening to climb it. They jumped back and forth, growling and snapping at each other’s tails.

  Samuel closed his eyes, and the world swam beneath him. He lost his sense of perception and fell from the branch, lunging out and grasping another to stop his plummet. The branch slid beneath his fingers as he looked down at the ground below, feeling dizzy and expecting the ground to rush up and snatch him from the precipice. Samuel reminded himself not to look down, wondering why that seemed to be the best advice for a fear of heights. The hunters saw the movement, and the other wolves sensed it. The entire pack ran around the base, barking and growling in a frenzy. Samuel hung by one arm, his left foot five feet from the ground. He felt the sting as a pine branch opened a gash in his side, and blood dripped into the open maw of the alpha male.

  Not this way, he thought, wincing.

  He drew a deep breath and forced the pain from his mind. He considered giving up until the thought of the pack’s teeth tearing at his flesh cleared his head. His mind raced through questions, possible reasons for the wolves’ unending pursuit. But in that moment, he realized it did not matter. He would have to survive before he could have the luxury of reflection.

  Samuel shook his head, fighting the haze and scrambling to reach a higher position. The alpha male lunged upward, clamping his jaws on the heel of Samuel’s shoe and shaking it left to right, rear paws digging into the dirt with every backpedal. Samuel kicked with his opposite foot but lacked power behind the motion. His toe bounced off the skull of the alpha male, agitating him more with each strike.

  The other wolves crowded the alpha male, snapping at Samuel’s foot in support of the leader. Samuel felt his grip loosening and his pants being tugged downward by another wolf that now also had a hold. He looked up at the branch, the tree about to fulfill his destiny of death in a way the noose could not. As his right hand released and another wolf climbed to his knee, a crack echoed through the valley. Samuel crashed to the ground as the wolves froze. They spun to face the sound as another shot whistled through the air and a slug lodged in the pine tree mere inches from Samuel’s head.

  We will come back.

  The alpha male turned to snarl at Samuel before bounding over the remains of the fire and though the trunks of the pine trees. The hunters, the females, and the cubs followed with their tails tucked between their legs.

  Samuel looked over the fire with blurry vision. His breathing slowed, and he sensed motion. A dark swath moved over the reemerging fire. It stopped and hesitated. The flames jumped back to life, and Samuel squinted in the light. Again the fire burned with a paltry, gre
en hue, but compared to the blackness preceding it, Samuel shielded his eyes from the glare.

  “Who are you?” he asked.

  “Close your eyes. We’ll talk when your body has recovered.”

  Samuel rolled onto his back and laughed. Floating ash danced overhead against the black-velvet sky. Bare tree branches reached for it like bony fingers.

  “The wolves, they’re coming back,” he said to the visitor.

  “They will. They always do,” came the reply.

  Samuel smiled again and closed his eyes. He would sleep, or he would die. Either outcome would rest his weary mind.

  Chapter 3

  Samuel felt the nudge of the boot in his ribs and rolled over onto his back. The grey, gauzy haze still hung in the sky. He put a hand to his throbbing forehead and wondered how long it would take to feel normal again, if ever. Samuel detected movement across the remains of the night’s fire, and a pulse of fear raced through his chest. The tree, the wolves, and the howling—especially the howling—resurfaced in his head. He gulped the air and recognized the movement of a fellow human. Samuel squinted as he sat up on his elbows.

  “What time is it?” he asked.

  “Does it matter?”

  He shrugged. “I guess not.”

  He watched the stranger from behind. The man sat on a felled trunk, wearing a tattered, black overcoat mingled with dried leaves. He wore a black, cloth headband tied at the back of his head above a ponytail that was streaked with shooting bursts of grey.

  “Who are you?”

  The stranger turned and faced Samuel. His eyes sat deep in his skull, surrounded by dark blooms of age and fatigue. The headband crouched low over his eyebrows, and the stranger’s nose sat crooked, in between two red cheeks and lips melded together into a thin line. A bruise ran from his left ear, down across his throat, and then up underneath his right ear.

  “Call me ‘Major’,” he said to Samuel.

  “Is that a name or a rank?”

  Major smiled and shook his head. “You ask too many questions.”

  Major placed his knife and sharpening stone on a rock, and the glint of the blade sparkled when it caught the dull glare of the daylight.

  “You saved my life,” said Samuel.

  Major shrugged.

  “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome . . . er?”

  “Samuel.”

  “You’re welcome, Samuel.”

  Major stood and walked over to Samuel. He slid a rock around and sat facing him.

  “What do you remember?” he asked.

  “The noose.”

  Major’s eyebrows pushed the headband up slightly.

  “It didn’t work. I know it was tight on my neck. I don’t remember that, I just know it. Then it was at my feet, and the bruises on my neck turned red.”

  “Before that?” asked Major.

  Samuel shook his head. “Nothing.”

  “Family, friends, work, women?”

  Again, Samuel shook his head.

  Major whistled and stood. “Haven’t seen many that close that don’t end up with rigor mortis.”

  “Close to what?” asked Samuel.

  Major waved his hand in the air and bent down to rummage through a rucksack a few feet from the fire pit. He pulled out a plastic jewel case. The cover had four symbols on it, and the spine read “Threefold Law—Revenant.” He tossed the CD to Samuel.

  “Know what that is?”

  Samuel smiled. “I’m not an idiot. It’s a CD.”

  Major snatched it from his hands and tossed it back into the sack. “Personal, not cultural,” he seemed to say more to himself than to Samuel.

  Samuel stood and stretched his back. His stomach moaned, and he stepped toward Major. “I can’t remember the last time I ate anything.”

  The comment shook Major from a momentary daydream. He pulled the rucksack closed and reached into a blue, plastic shopping bag behind it, grabbing cheese on wheat crackers wrapped in cellophane. He tossed them to Samuel.

  “One of the few of those I have left. Might be one of the last ever.”

  Samuel ignored the remark as he tore into the snack crackers. The overpowering sting of salt flooded his mouth and overwhelmed his senses. And then, as quickly as it came, the taste disappeared. He chewed what now tasted like dried cardboard.

  “At least you got a glimpse, a surge of sensation. Most of the shit I find now doesn’t even give me that much.”

  Samuel finished the crackers and immediately recognized how thirsty he had become. He gave no mind to Major’s cryptic remarks.

  Major walked to the nearest pine, lifted a twelve gauge shotgun, and laid the barrel over his left shoulder. He loaded a lead pumpkin ball into the chamber and clicked it shut. Major grabbed the rucksack and swung it over his head.

  “I’ve gotta go.”

  Samuel stared at him.

  “I left you a water.”

  “Hold on! Where are you going?”

  Major ignored the question and strode past Samuel toward the enveloping darkness of the forest. The filtered light retreated downward from the sky, leading Samuel to believe it was nearing dusk.

  “What if the wolves return?”

  “They will,” said Major. “But not for two or three nights. I wouldn’t linger here for too long, if I were you.”

  ***

  Samuel sat at the base of the tree that had become his refuge from the pack. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. What he recognized as night returned, smothering what remained of the reflected light in the sky. He decided against following Major into the woods. The man must have been here much longer than he had, and it would not be difficult for Major to lose him. And then Samuel thought of the wolves and thought better of venturing into the wilderness on his own.

  He reached over to the water bottle Major left and noticed a scrap of paper underneath it. Placing the bottle to the side, he unfolded the note.

  Most of the bodies have nothing of value. Scavengers have cleaned them out. The trinkets lying in piles are worthless or don’t work, neither of which will help you. I can’t tell, but I think it’s accelerating. Not at an even pace like a clock, but more like the tides. It moves faster the closer it gets. I’ve seen it before. I’m moving to higher ground. So should you.

  Samuel read the note again. It was not addressed to him, and it was not signed by the author. He had to assume Major left it and decided that another confrontation with the pack would not be in his best interest. He shoved his personal items into a pocket, drained the last of the water, and climbed the tree. When the morning glow crested over the horizon, he would follow Major’s trail as far as he could and hope that it would lead to higher ground.

  ***

  Samuel awoke. He had dozed on the branch, but would not go so far as to call it sleep. He felt pain in his hips, and his muscles ached from the slight tension needed to keep him balanced and from falling out of the tree. A thin beam of light appeared on the same horizon after what felt like more than a single night of darkness.

  It’s accelerating.

  Samuel thought about the phrase in Major’s note, and the fact that the night had felt longer. He shook his head and turned one ear toward the unending forest. Samuel had not heard them baying or seen so much as a falling leaf since Major had left. The silence of the forest again felt suffocating, dead. He slid off the branch and climbed backward down the trunk until his feet landed on the pine needles.

  Samuel made the decision to find higher ground regardless of Major’s note, and he walked into the forest in the same direction that Major had, following the man’s first few footsteps. Samuel laughed and remembered tracking a deer in his youth. He smelled the fresh blood and felt the crisp snap of the frigid winter air of days gone by. He stopped, frantic and yet exhilarated. That memory had returned. If it did, others might, as well.

  ***

  He spent the next few hours trudging through the ancient forest, unsure as to whether he was making pro
gress or simply walking in a huge arc. Samuel had not come across his campsite again, so he considered his time as progress. He approached a narrow creek running across the path. The water moved over the low rocks and passed by without so much as a gurgle. The entire stream had fallen silent. Samuel reached into his back pocket and removed the cap from the plastic water bottle left by Major. He dipped the bottle into the water and filled it to the top. Samuel sniffed the water and could not detect an odor, and he poured a drop into his mouth. He swallowed and waited. His stomach did not cramp, and he could not detect anything toxic. He threw the bottle back and drained it three more times.

  Samuel continued past the creek until the forest felt as though it tipped upward toward the sky. He knew he was moving to higher ground, even though Major’s trail had disappeared. As he made the ascent, the trees thinned, and the air felt colder. Samuel kept moving to keep warm, exhaling plumes of breath into the forest. Samuel struggled to determine whether it was day or night. He could no longer see the horizon above the trees, only more trees on an ever-increasing slope headed skyward. He leaned on the north side of a tree trunk, resting his legs and lungs. Samuel rubbed his eyes, certain that the structure he just spotted in the distance was a figment of his imagination. He would not be convinced the cabin nestled in the trees was real until he touched it with his own hands.

  Chapter 4

  Moss-covered shingles clung to the pitched roof. A lonely brick chimney jutted out of the roof at an angle that threatened to pull it over. Weathered, wood shakes covered the front and side, their stain long since dissolved. One lone window sat to the right of the door, a glaze of time covering the glass and giving it an opaque finish. Three steps led up to a door with a single brass knob and no lock.

  Samuel came within five feet of the cabin and stopped. He looked over his shoulder, expecting the occupant to arrive and chastise him for trespassing.

  “Major?” he called out.

  No response.