black imaginable.
Yet somehow he knew, maybe by the tilt of its head, it now opened a great ebony maw in preparation of ripping his throat out. It was the final act in the great ancient dance called the hunt.
Curtains time.
“Except I’m not a damned elk,” Sheriff Gartner snarled. He drew his pistol and started firing it directly into the horror’s head.
The .357 Magnum roared, belching bright gou ts of fire that stabbed straight into the entity’s face. Not even the flashes of light revealed its features, but the effect was instantaneous.
The thing gave an ear shattering shriek and clawed at its face. At the same time, it hurled the man away from it with unbelievable force.
Carl hurtled into the blackness of the woods. Live or die, this was going to hurt. He curled his battered body into a ball and hoped for the best. He ricocheted off a limb then smashed through a thicket of brush, before hitting the ground hard. His limbs flailed as he tumbled and rolled over stones and roots. It felt like he hit every hard surface on the island before he finally came to a stop.
F ace down in the water.
The water.
Carl jerked his head up with a gasp, and shook it to clear his eyes. It didn’t help much.
Stars crowded the vision in his ringing head. He hurt in so many places he couldn’t even begin to count them. Jagged fire flashed up one knee when he moved it, and his shoulder hurt in a way that suggested real damage had been sustained there as well. The sheriff suspected a full account of his injuries would be impressive. But that would have to wait, because the howling shrieks back up the hill informed him this still wasn’t over. He groaned and cleared his eyes to take stock of his situation.
He lay at the edge of the new lake.
While darkness still shrouded the temporary shoreline around him, the trees ahead opened up ahead to reveal the fog covered waters. After having his eyes get so used to the murk under the trees, the light coming from the lake almost blinded him. The rising moon flooded the scene, transforming the low mist into a brilliant carpet of white under the night sky. It looked cold and forbidding, but compared to what screamed up the hill it was a thing of beauty.
Carl suppressed a groan and pulled himself forward into the lake. The icy water bit into his skin, adding another layer of misery to his assorted hurts. He made slow progress, but walking didn’t even enter the equation. His leg wouldn’t support him, and the sloshing would only attract the attention of the supernatural killer nearby.
Its cries were already changing from shrieks of pain to screams of pure rage. It didn’t take a genius to figure out it would be wanting to settle scores in a minute or two.
The lake didn’t offer much in the way of escape ei ther. Carl held no hope of swimming for the far shore, but anywhere away from the monster behind him counted as an improvement. If it came down to it, he would far rather drown than die in that thing’s stinking jaws. At this point he would consider himself lucky if he even got the choice.
The water finally deepened enough to provide a little buoyancy, making it easier for the injured man to pull himself along. At the same time, he could hear the thunderous approach of the wendigo. It took every fiber of his will not to try and get up to run into deeper water. Only the knowledge it would guarantee the death he just escaped prevented him…assuming it wasn’t guaranteed anyway.
Carl eased himself past the moonlit trunk of the final tree and pulled himself into the lake proper. The mist hugging the water made it hard for him to see more than a few feet ahead, forcing him to navigate by simply moving in the direction away from the sound of the terror hunting for him. At the same time, the bottom began to fall away a little more which allowed him to bring his good leg into play and push himself forward.
A triumphant roar to the rear announced the predator had found his
Yet somehow he knew, maybe by the tilt of its head, it now opened a great ebony maw in preparation of ripping his throat out. It was the final act in the great ancient dance called the hunt.
Curtains time.
“Except I’m not a damned elk,” Sheriff Gartner snarled. He drew his pistol and started firing it directly into the horror’s head.
The .357 Magnum roared, belching bright gou ts of fire that stabbed straight into the entity’s face. Not even the flashes of light revealed its features, but the effect was instantaneous.
The thing gave an ear shattering shriek and clawed at its face. At the same time, it hurled the man away from it with unbelievable force.
Carl hurtled into the blackness of the woods. Live or die, this was going to hurt. He curled his battered body into a ball and hoped for the best. He ricocheted off a limb then smashed through a thicket of brush, before hitting the ground hard. His limbs flailed as he tumbled and rolled over stones and roots. It felt like he hit every hard surface on the island before he finally came to a stop.
F ace down in the water.
The water.
Carl jerked his head up with a gasp, and shook it to clear his eyes. It didn’t help much.
Stars crowded the vision in his ringing head. He hurt in so many places he couldn’t even begin to count them. Jagged fire flashed up one knee when he moved it, and his shoulder hurt in a way that suggested real damage had been sustained there as well. The sheriff suspected a full account of his injuries would be impressive. But that would have to wait, because the howling shrieks back up the hill informed him this still wasn’t over. He groaned and cleared his eyes to take stock of his situation.
He lay at the edge of the new lake.
While darkness still shrouded the temporary shoreline around him, the trees ahead opened up ahead to reveal the fog covered waters. After having his eyes get so used to the murk under the trees, the light coming from the lake almost blinded him. The rising moon flooded the scene, transforming the low mist into a brilliant carpet of white under the night sky. It looked cold and forbidding, but compared to what screamed up the hill it was a thing of beauty.
Carl suppressed a groan and pulled himself forward into the lake. The icy water bit into his skin, adding another layer of misery to his assorted hurts. He made slow progress, but walking didn’t even enter the equation. His leg wouldn’t support him, and the sloshing would only attract the attention of the supernatural killer nearby.
Its cries were already changing from shrieks of pain to screams of pure rage. It didn’t take a genius to figure out it would be wanting to settle scores in a minute or two.
The lake didn’t offer much in the way of escape ei ther. Carl held no hope of swimming for the far shore, but anywhere away from the monster behind him counted as an improvement. If it came down to it, he would far rather drown than die in that thing’s stinking jaws. At this point he would consider himself lucky if he even got the choice.
The water finally deepened enough to provide a little buoyancy, making it easier for the injured man to pull himself along. At the same time, he could hear the thunderous approach of the wendigo. It took every fiber of his will not to try and get up to run into deeper water. Only the knowledge it would guarantee the death he just escaped prevented him…assuming it wasn’t guaranteed anyway.
Carl eased himself past the moonlit trunk of the final tree and pulled himself into the lake proper. The mist hugging the water made it hard for him to see more than a few feet ahead, forcing him to navigate by simply moving in the direction away from the sound of the terror hunting for him. At the same time, the bottom began to fall away a little more which allowed him to bring his good leg into play and push himself forward.
A triumphant roar to the rear announced the predator had found his
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