The witch of grays point, p.10
The Witch of Gray's Point, page 10
“I’m sorry, Brynn,” he said. “I didn’t know.”
It seemed impossible that the police wouldn’t have arrived yet. Each officer out here would certainly be responsible for a lot of miles, but that didn’t explain the lack of response. Something seemed off.
“We need to go,” Brynn said quietly. “To the nearest town. To a police station. This is more than we can handle.”
Gabe’s heart broke from the desperation in her voice, but he wouldn’t leave. He couldn’t. Not with Miriam waiting for him in that cave. He didn’t want to tell Brynn that, though.
She stood and walked past him towards the door. “Let’s go.”
He held his ground, clenching his jaw.
“What’s wrong?” she asked. “Let’s go. Now.”
He closed his eyes to avoid looking at her. “I can’t. I have to go back for Miriam.”
When the silence stretched on for too long, Gabe opened his eyes to see Brynn fuming at the door. He had the keys. She couldn’t take the Jeep from him. He could almost see that realization playing out across her face.
“She didn’t leave?” Brynn asked.
“No. We went out in the desert together. To find one on our own.” He could see the anger welling up inside of her. This time, though, he’d take the punches. “She got hurt. She can’t walk. I came back to get help.”
Instead of attacking, Brynn pushed a lock of hair behind one of her ears and tightly composed herself. “We’ll send the police back for her, too.”
“No,” he said emphatically.
“Gabe. She’s alone in the desert. I saw what these things are capable of. She’s already gone.”
“If you think that, then you don’t know Miriam.”
She threw up her hands, before storming outside and hollering back, “Neither do you!”
The statement stung, more painful than her physical attacks. It’s true that he hadn’t known Miriam long, but he knew enough.
Gabe followed Brynn outside, where she’d settled on the end of the porch, staring out towards Gray’s Point. She leaned against the handrail, her normally regal posture giving in to the weight of her ordeal. He didn’t love her anymore. Maybe he never had. But he still found it hard to disappoint her.
“Is that where you went?” she asked, motioning towards the mountain in the distance.
“Yes.”
“Where is she?”
“In a cave. She’s got weapons. And rations.”
Brynn glanced over her shoulder and shot him a glance. He thought he caught the slightest hint of a smirk before she turned away from him again. “Can she fight otherworldly animal-men?”
Gabe tried to imagine what she meant. He pictured the odd footprint in the sand. The shadow creature he saw on the highway. The phantasmagoric bird that Miriam shot down. Brynn nursed a hole deep inside of her somewhere that he’d never been able to fix. But she wasn’t a liar. And she didn’t stage attacks for attention. Though these creatures had remained largely in his periphery so far, Brynn had seen them. Fought them. Lost to them.
He felt certain that Miriam could fight off anything, but, in a moment of clarity, he understood that saying so would wound Brynn in a way that he couldn’t fully empathize with. Instead, he answered, “I don’t know. I think she’ll try.”
Brynn turned toward him, leaning her backside against the railing and folding her arms across her chest. He followed her long, bare legs down to the ground where she planted her feet with purpose. The tears had dried up now. She almost looked like herself.
She raised one of her perfectly shaped eyebrows at him. “I can’t talk you out of this, can I?”
“I promised her I’d come right back.”
She walked towards him, her shoulder brushing against his as she made her way back inside. He followed, as she went straight to work gathering up supplies, in the process unplugging the satellite phone. “We all know that Gabe Castillo doesn’t break his promises.”
He detected the sharpness of her sarcasm, but he knew better than to challenge it. Instead, he scooped up the pistol on the kitchen table, pausing only briefly to stare into the eyes of the strange skull totem. It felt like a lifetime since he’d found it in the backyard. Now it seemed devoid of power. Something worse than this inanimate object waited for them.
Grabbing water from the fridge, Brynn asked, “Does the Jeep have gas?”
“I filled it up before Miriam and I left. Haven’t used it much since.”
“You walked?”
“Yeah. Didn’t want you and Skylar to find us.”
“We weren’t looking,” she said sharply, slinging her pack over her shoulder. “We should take that.”
Gabe looked down at the totem. “This? Why?”
Brynn shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe it means something to them. Maybe they’ll respond to it.”
Gabe had a hard time seeing how it might help them, but he gingerly picked it up and rested the butt of it on the floor. If nothing else, it made a badass walking stick. Maybe he’d keep it as a souvenir.
He followed Brynn as she moved towards the door. On the way, he noticed a notebook on the end table. He’d never seen it before, but it looked old and personal.
“This yours?” he asked, picking it up.
She spun and froze, clearly unsettled. She crossed the space between them in record speed and snatched it out of his hand, quickly hiding it away in her backpack. “It’s uh... my journal.”
“Oooh. Like your secret diary?”
“Something like that.”
“What’s it say about me?”
“That you’re an asshole. Come on.”
Chapter 13
He listened, waiting for the rumble of the Jeep to fade into the distance. Only then did he climb up the ladder, pull down the hatch, and push on the rug above. It took extra effort to slide the heavy wing-backed chair above him out of the way, but it eventually buckled under his insistence. He moved up the ladder, letting the rug fall over him like a cloak. Once he got his knees up high enough, he scrambled along the floor and emerged into the light, out from under the rug and into the living area of the old cabin where they’d fought just hours earlier.
Behind him, the deer followed. Together, they stared out the window and watched the yellow Jeep hurtle through the desert towards Gray’s Point, the back wheels kicking up a massive cloud of dust. Eventually, it began fading into the distance.
Now they were safe. Now they could search.
Each of them headed to a different area of the house, overturning furniture and ripping up floorboards. They emptied bags, tore mirrors from the wall, and upended beds. As they met again in the living room, the goat watched as the deer stared quizzically at the mounted buck above the fireplace. After a shared glance, the deer cocked his head, motioning for the goat to pull down the long-dead beast.
As commanded, the goat followed orders, scaling the mantle, ripping down the head and letting it fall to the floor. Using his non-skeletal hand, the deer rummaged through the hole in the back of the mount, waiting for the goat to get down and help. The goat only vaguely knew what they were meant to find, but he found nothing out of the ordinary. Frustrated, he tossed the buck-head aside.
He shuffled back to the hole in the floor and shrugged. The deer returned the gesture.
The deer veered off into the kitchen, opened the refrigerator and scanned the contents. The goat watched and waited for a nod. The confirmation came quickly and sharply. If the deer were capable of smiling, the goat felt certain he would have just then. It was time to go. He dropped down into the hole and descended the ladder, the footsteps of the deer echoing above.
After the deer met him in the cool caverns below, the goat climbed up the ladder again and used the rug to pull things back into place as best he could. It might not be perfect, but it would be good enough to remove any suspicion.
He spryly scuttled back down and met the deer. Together, they made their way through the darkness. Down the narrow passageway, and deeper beneath the desert brush. They didn’t find what they wanted, but it didn’t matter. They already had what they needed.
In silence, they rushed back to Gray’s Point, eager to return to their quarry.
Chapter 14
Miriam waited for either a savior or a monster. Maybe both, if Gabe brought her father.
She didn’t care for the waiting. It gave her far too much time for the fear and uncertainty to scratch its way into her belly. There’d been no time for fear in Cape Madre or Rose Valley. No time to sit and ponder the worst possible outcomes. She’d never thought of herself as a particularly pessimistic person, but she started to wonder if maybe that was only because she’d never stopped long enough to think about it.
The wind whipped the canvas of her makeshift door. Without Gabe’s height, she couldn’t manage to attach the top corner, so now it continually billowed and buffeted against the stone, occasionally sending a pop echoing off the walls. Miriam rubbed her eyes, trying to encourage more lubrication to stave off the dry, scratchy discomfort. She needed to blink more, but if she did that, she might miss a shadow cross in front of the cave. And missing that might mean the difference between life and death.
She tried to play games in her head, recalling fun facts about cryptids or reliving the few good memories she could conjure. Most of them were recent and involved Macy, but she mined a few from her childhood, from a time when all the hunts seemed like fun vacations. Somewhere, further back than she could clearly remember, she even managed to feel the safety and warmth of her mother’s presence.
Damn her stupid ankle. She didn’t want to think about her dead mother.
With the pain starting to flare up again, Miriam looked at her watch and did some quick math. Not quite four hours. Oh well.
She tilted a couple of ibuprofen into her hand, then swallowed them with half a bottle of water. She didn’t often take medication, and wondered whether her stomach’s uneasy rumbling came from the drugs, or the worry.
She’d tried her best to keep the water to a minimum. Too much water meant she’d have to venture outside to relieve herself. Thirst managed to win, though, and she’d downed two bottles in the last hour. As much as she didn’t want to, she pushed herself up to her feet. Or foot, as the case happened to be. She couldn’t be sure, but she thought maybe she managed it faster than last time.
Using the cave wall for balance, she scooped up everything she needed and hobbled her way to the mouth of the cave. Halfway there, she stopped, certain she’d heard something.
Holding her breath, she scanned for a hint of what she’d heard, but saw nothing.
A rattling noise outside. Miriam swallowed hard. Bone scraping against bone? Something must have been digging at the pile outside. Maybe just a scavenger. Nothing big enough to cast a shadow through the tent. Still, her heart pounded in her chest.
She inched forward, slowly. As she did, a form manifested itself on the other side of the tent, followed by a low growl. She heard more bones against bones as the shadow grew larger. At first, she thought it might be a person, but then it seemed to sink down on four legs. Maybe just a coyote, though it seemed larger than that.
Miriam dropped everything except the gun. The shadow moved closer. She didn’t want to kill an innocent animal, but she also didn’t want to wait to see what it might be. She leveled her shoulders and steadied herself as best she could. It was going to hurt when she pulled the trigger, but she couldn’t concern herself with that.
With practiced grace, she squeezed the trigger evenly until the bullet tore from the gun, through the canvas, and into whatever creature stood outside. It yelped and fell to the ground, but didn’t stay still. The growling stopped. She couldn’t be sure of her angle on it now, but she fired again. The miss startled the dog-like shadow on the other side and caused it to spring back to its feet. Too quickly to be too injured.
Miriam tried to make sense of another shadow that came into view from the top of the canvas. She assumed a bird, but then it melted down from the sky into something distinctly humanoid. The craggy outline of feathers clung to the silhouette, like a person with wings.
She needed to see her stalker, so that she could put a bullet in its head. She lunged forward, ripped the canvas down from the mouth of the cave and whipped the gun out in front of her. Pain shot up her leg, as she used her bad foot to brace herself.
The bird-person was gone, but the growling started up again, giving her just a few seconds to zero in on the dog-thing rushing towards her. Sharp fangs protruded from its mouth, but its face looked more human than dog.
Not a coyote.
She forced herself to wait. If it closed some distance, she could be surer of her aim. She hovered her arms loosely to follow its head with every loping step. From three feet away, it jumped towards her. She tracked up. Fired. Blood exploded outward. A good hit, but its momentum didn’t slow.
With only one good leg, she couldn’t pivot in time. The full weight hit her in the chest, knocking her to the ground, forcing the wind out of her. Its chest heaved against hers. She could smell rank breath between them.
It wasn’t dead.
Where it had once seemed almost human, the thing’s face had now grown a long, canine snout. It snapped at her, but she managed to push up on its chin and force its jaw closed. She dropped the gun on the ground and wrapped her other hand around the snout, struggling to keep it at bay. It thrashed on top of her, but the shot had damaged it enough that it seemed incapable of finding its footing.
Bucking hard to the right, she forced the weight of the dog-thing to the ground next to her, then rolled over to straddle it. She half-expected that it would turn into something else. Keeping one hand as tightly against its chin as she could, she reached for the gun, pointed it straight up into its chin, and pulled the trigger. Warm blood sprayed her, sprayed everywhere. Without another sound, the thing went limp.
Trying to catch her breath, Miriam wiped the blood from her face and quickly rolled onto her back, ready to shoot the next thing that came through.
Nothing else in view.
She scrambled backwards with her one good foot and free hand, until her back hit the cave wall. It felt safer, having only one direction to protect.
The pain in her ankle throbbed, but she didn’t have time to worry about that. She used the cave wall for support to pull herself back up. She tried to calculate the likelihood of Gabe’s return. But this wasn’t a movie. She wouldn’t be lucky enough for him to show up and save the day. She drew strength from the pile of fur in the middle of the cave.
She’d killed that thing. She could kill the others, too. She wouldn’t be stopped so easily.
Resolute, Miriam moved forward. She’d lost count of how many bullets she’d spent, but knew a few more remained in the clip. For double safety, she reached down and grabbed a leather case containing a Bowie knife. Despite having to constantly survive in the face of danger, Miriam really didn’t relish this. Why couldn’t cryptozoology go back to studying questionable evidence and shaky camera footage?
Whether the bird thing still lurked outside the cave seemed almost irrelevant. Her current abode was no longer safe, and that meant she needed to find a new home. If she went too far, though, Gabe wouldn’t be able to find her. The decision tore at her. Certainly, making her stand here at any cost might ensure that Gabe could find her, but that hardly seemed worth anything if he only found her dead body.
She sat for a few more minutes, alert but slowly feeling her breathing return to normal. If there’d been another one, it seemed to have disappeared. When she felt confident enough, she crawled over to the dead one in the middle of the cave and poked at its belly with the muzzle of her gun. The fur gave way easily.
Next, she holstered the gun into the back of her jeans and pushed hard to roll the thing over on its side, its head lolling against the rock.
It didn’t look like a coyote or a wolf. More like a dog of indeterminate breed. Was this the key to the skinwalkers? Did they die as the last animal they mimicked? It certainly would explain why no one had ever found a carcass. She didn’t have the time or the inclination to perform a makeshift autopsy on this one, but she did pull herself around the carcass, taking pictures with her phone. The red flashing battery in the corner told her these pictures might be the last she’d take, at least until she found power.
With so much time having passed without another skinwalker, Miriam almost felt safe again, but she still needed to vacate the cave. She considered just starting back. Her ankle hurt, but she’d been able to maneuver well enough. She didn’t know exactly where Gabe would be coming from, though, and that made the direction hard to choose.
Disgusted with her situation, she let out a frustrated growl that echoed out of the cave. Why did stuff like this always happen to her? She wasn’t religious, but in that moment she considered joining a convent. Surely, the monsters wouldn’t find her there.
If she wanted to move fast, she’d have to pick and choose her supplies. She decided to leave the tent and sleeping bag behind. They were too bulky, and, if it came down to it, sleeping in the desert air wouldn’t kill her. She needed water, protein bars, and weapons. She jettisoned everything else from the backpack, including the samples from the bird autopsy. Maybe she’d come back for them once she had the safety of numbers.
With her pack much lighter, Miriam stood and looped it over her shoulders. The pain still pulsed up her leg, but the backpack didn’t seem to add to it, at least. She needed help walking, and as she scanned the cave for a makeshift crutch, she came up with the perfect solution.
Eyeing the pile of bones in front of the cave, she estimated the totem in the middle to be just about the right height, assuming she could pry the skulls and ribcage off the stabilizing pole in the middle.
She hobbled over to the pile, careful to draw her gun and watch her flank as she exited the cave. Nothing. Not even a breeze.
Once she made it to the mound, she fell to her knees and scaled the mountain of bones. Some of them gave way underneath her, but she managed to get far enough up to get the totem in the middle. She reached through two of the ribs and pulled up on the shaft. It gave way easily.
