He started again, eyes down, on the dirt road. He let out a sigh of relief when he reached the pavement. Easy sailing now.
A deep throated growl came from up ahead, blocking his way. Washington stopped, moving his eyes off the road, willing them to reach out through the night and bring him a picture of whatever was blocking his path, but the night armor was too strong for his vision’s arrows. Something threatening was there and he might as well have been blind.
He stopped again, tuned his ears to the dark as he chambered a round. He pointed the carbine ahead, where he thought the sound had come from, and pulled the trigger.
The gunshot ripped through the silent night followed by an agonizing howl, then by the sound of something thrashing through the thick brush, scraping and tearing along the ground, bellowing as it fled away from Washington. And the night went silent again and as if nothing had happened, he forced his eyes down to the paved road and continued his trek. Kohler’s place was a quarter mile away and at the rate he was going, it would be dawn before he arrived at the thicket.
Watch dog, wild dog, child’s pet or bear, he didn’t know or care what it was he’d shot. His only thought was of Glenna. If he wanted to get her back, he would have to be at Kohler’s when she arrived with Jim Monday. He had delayed too long already. His resolve was firm. Nothing was going to stand in his way, not animal, nor man, but his resolve was quickly tested. He heard something twisting and turning in the brush and it was no longer tearing away from him in desperate flight. It was moving toward him with deliberate caution.
He put his nose in the wind. The thing coming for him had a smell all too familiar. He had been assaulted by it before, once following a freeway accident, once when he helped a fireman drag a burning woman from a blazing building. It was impossible to guard against. There was no protection from the smell of burning flesh. This thing coming for him was no dog, or bear.
He sensed that it was hugging the ground, forcing the brush aside like some kind of great snake. He used his ears, forced himself to concentrate on the sound and not the odor, which threatened to make him sick all over again. He was alert now, the adrenaline forcing all effects of the alcohol away. And in his new state of awareness, he reasoned that the thing was using the odor to misdirect him. Odor is carried with the breeze which twists and turns through the woods. It lies. He had to depend on his ears, they would give him the animal’s true position.
He listened as it drew closer, clawing and scratching on the ground. He closed his eyes and let the sense of sound take over. Again he used his instincts and fired into the night. And again the thing screeched, thrashed and moved away. Two shots and two hits, but this time it didn’t move as far. It hissed, like a snake hisses, but sounded more like a giant boiler releasing pent up steam, and he was overpowered with the pungent burning smell. He was tempted to shoot again, but he held his fire. He was a veteran and he wanted to make every shot count.
Something in the back reaches of his mind said run, but somehow Washington knew to run was to die. He waited, motionless. And it moved in closer, stalking him. It might be tough, Hugh thought, but it couldn’t be silent. He waited till he heard it leave the brush. It’s on the road. It thinks I can’t hear if it advances along the blacktop, but it’s wrong, I can. The thing was unable to mask the sound of its claws sliding on the smooth road and Hugh’s excellent hearing guided the direction of his fire like radio guided lasers.
Five quick rounds filled the night like explosions and the roar of the beast followed like an erupting volcano. Hugh fired the last three rounds of the ten round clip, ejected, jammed in the fresh clip and, while the animal still roared, he fired five more shots into the screams, still failing to silence the howling beast.
Fighting temptation he held his fire. The animal was directly in front of him, raging and screeching, clawing and scratching, but it wasn’t getting any closer. He shot his hands into his pocket and came out with the gold Zippo. He flicked it and for a flash of a second saw the thing that had been stalking him.
Big, reptilian, cringing from the Zippo’s light, bleeding from scores of wounds, foaming at the mouth, a baseball-sized eye on both sides of its lizard-like head, eyes glowing yellow against the Zippo’s flame. It hissed foam and steam at the light and moved away, slinking on its belly, backwards, away from the fire.
Holding the Zippo in his left hand with his arm extended forward, Hugh tucked the carbine into his side and fired the last five shots into the head of the beast. All direct hits, causing it to spasm and jerk with each shot. The last shot jerked it onto its back, but it quickly righted itself and roared, blaring like an elephant, showing Hugh the hatred in its flaming yellow eyes, daring him to put out the flame.
Hugh dropped the carbine, grabbed his pistol from the shoulder holster, and advanced on the reptile.
“ You’re going to eat shit, motherfucker.”
Badly wounded, it tried to back away from the advancing human with the fire. It was confused. Humans always ran. They were prey. Prey didn’t fight back and prey never attacked. But this human was something new. It was changing the rules. And, having never been hunted, the beast didn’t know what to do. It had never run from prey. But this wasn’t prey anymore. This was something different. This was a hunter.
It opened its wide mouth, showing jagged teeth, then growled, hissing blue steam into the cool night. This never failed to frighten humans, usually paralyzing them with fear. But the prey, that was no longer prey, extended an arm, and flame leapt out from the human’s hand, and great pain flashed in its throat as three quick explosions smashed into its mouth.
It hissed again, gurgling blood. If only the human would drop the fire it could attack, but the arm that dealt pain stiffened and the reptile backed off as the arm jerked and something smashed into its left eye making everything on its left side go dark. It turned, and for the first time in its long life, it fled.
That’s it, Hugh thought, I’m going for the law. He had faced the beast and driven it back. But he was under no illusions. It had taken several fatal hits and had not gone down. He had only two shots left, if he encountered it again, he would lose. It was time for the horse soldiers.
He turned back to the side road, holding the Zippo high as he walked. Hugh Washington’s mother didn’t raise a dumb boy. He’d noticed the effect the flame had on that thing and he wondered how long since he’d last put fluid in the lighter. If it failed now, he was a dead man. But the flame held till he reached the car and Hugh again gave thanks that there were some things you could always count on. Some things that never let you down.
He breathed a sweat-chilled sigh of relief as his hands sought out and opened the driver’s door. A second sigh escaped him as he moved into the car, positioning himself behind the wheel. He flicked off the lighter and put it away. He searched his pockets for the keys, found them, and was sliding the key into the ignition when a voice in the back said. “Out early, aren’t you, Mr. Washington?”
Hugh froze.
“ That’s a good idea. Don’t move. I have a small, but very effective pistol pointed at the nape of your neck. Killing you now would give me great pleasure, but the doctor wants a word. I trust you’ll be willing to oblige.”
“ Take me to your leader, Mr. Markham.” Hugh tried to sound more confident than he felt.
“ Ah, you know me. Excellent. Doc said you must be sharp to find him here so quickly.”
“ Just lucky.”
“ Unlucky is more like it,” the Weasel said, “especially when he finds out how you treated his little darling. He’s gonna be real mad. Shooting up a poor defenseless creature like that. Oh yeah, he’s gonna be mad.”