Skinwalkers (27 page)

Keep still
,
Max thought.
He can’t smell
us. Not
with
us
covered in blood and shit
.
Keep still and keep us alive
.

Maxine clamped a hand over her mouth, stifling the scream
trying
to sound from her lips. Tears leaked from her eyes
,
but she held still. Still as death.

Coyote growled, its muzzle lifting
to reveal
fangs still crimson with Dewayne’s blood. The
skinwalker’s
jaws parted and Maxine saw one of Dewayne’s eyeballs stuck in the back of its maw as though
the organ was
a piece of clinging boiled egg. The sight of this combined with the monster’s fetid breath caused Maxine’s gorge to rise. She caught
herself
before
she wretched in
reflex.

Coyote’s drool
coursed
from
his mouth
to
splatter
onto Maxine’s folded legs. Its
veiled
eyes seemed to gaze past her physical form into the depths of her soul, examining and judging her every sin, her every act of evil, no matter how large or how small.

Coyote sniffed
Maxine
up and down.
She
was sure the
skinwalker
could smell the stench of every man she’d lain with for money
—
the stench of her husband’s blood on her hands
—
and would kill her for it.

If we’re going to die, let’s take a piece of this bastard with us!
Max thought. Maxine thought no reply. She merely began to raise the butcher knife.

“Mama.“

Coyote twisted its head in Pablo’s direction. The boy stood silhouetted by the dawn’s light at the
mouth of the
chute. He was covered in mud and gore. Coyote howled and
loped
toward him. Maxine screamed and launched
herself
from her hiding place
, chasing
after the
skinwalker
. She dropped the knife in mid-stride to grab one of the dangling meat hooks. Its chain gave slack as it unwound from the pulley attached to the high slaughterhouse ceiling.

Maxine roared, the sound that of a she-beast defending her cub. She brought the hook down and impaled it between Coyote’s shoulder blades.

Coyote howled with pain. The
skinwalker
whirled and backhanded Maxine.
She
flew through the air to crash against a butcher table. Coyote turned as Pablo sprinted out of the slaughterhouse. Coyote gave chase. He made it several feet before the chain attached to the meat hook in its back pulled
taut, jerking
the beast
to a halt
. The
skinwalker
barked furiously as it flailed and tugged, still trying to reach its departed prey, its berserker rage making it oblivious to the thought that it should try to free itself of the hook.

Maxine got to her feet. She spared
a
glance to make sure the end of the chain
restraining
Coyote was
good and stuck in a pulley overhead
. It was.

Maxine hobbled to the room’s other side, moving in an arc that took her beyond Coyote’s reach. She reached the hog pen and lifted the spike-tipped hammer from where it lay propped against the rail. Maxine held the hammer across her waist as she limped over to stand in front of Coyote.

Despite its blindness and its inability to smell her, Coyote was aware of her presence. The
skinwalker
snapped at her, slinging slobber from its fanged jaws as it barked and growled.

You want me to take over, girl
? Max thought.

Maxine looked at the raging
skinwalker
, her gaze cold and even.
“No. This son of a bitch is all mine.“

Maxine raised the hammer high above her head and brought it down in a swift arc, moving with speed and skill that would’ve made John Henry envious. The spiked-tip sank into the spot between Coyote’s eyes with surprising ease
. Blood erupted
from the wound
,
showering Maxine. The
skinwalker
yelped like it was nothing more than a kicked dog
. It
flailed for a moment, then fell still
and silent
to hang limply at the end of the hook.

Maxine ripped the hammer out of the
skinwalker’s
skull and prepared for a second strike. She
didn’t
feel at ease. There was something in the air
—
some force, like an electric current, was gathering around the dead monster.

Maxine looked
around
the room and noticed the dust motes weren’t simply swirling in the dawn’s light. They
gravitated
toward Coyote
from every direction
. Maxine blinked, trying to see if her eyes were playing tricks on her. But
the scene remained the same when
she looked again
.

Butcher knives began to rattle in their housings. Medical supplies clinked
and
shook along
the
shelves
. Then a butcher table slid across the room of its own accord to ram into the
skinwalker
. Meat hooks stretched where they hung, reaching toward the dead beast as though it were magnetized. Cabinet doors flew open to reveal
medicines
boiling inside
beakers of glass. Knives
and tools began to fly through the air
, impaling
themselves
into
the
skinwalker
’s
corpse
. The slaughterhouse walls bowed inward, groaning under the strain of whatever
supernatural vacuum
had been
created in the wake of
Coyote’s death.

Maxine decided to get the hell out there. She dropped the hammer and sprinted for the slaughterhouse doors, dodging flying knives, scissors, and countless other projectiles. She exited the building and kept running, fighting the invisible but undeniable pull that filled the air.

Maxine saw Pablo in the distance beyond town and ran to him. She reached her son and threw her arms around him, turning him so that his back was to the
slaughterhouse.
Maxine watched in wide-eyed awe as the building collapsed in upon itself. Then Maxine felt the force that had slowly drawn everything inward change direction. The reverse in current was like the
release of
a
giant
bow string.

The slaughterhouse exploded in a shower of wood, metal, and meat; the concussive force leveling most of the surrounding town. Maxine and Pablo were blown backward several yards. They landed hard, but
were
unhurt.

Maxine got to her feet
. A
mushroom cloud of black dust
rose
from the slaughterhouse’s remains. Maxine’s eyes grew large in her head as the dust shifted shape
into
a gigantic version of Coyote’s baying
skinwalker
head. A
netherworldly
howl echoed across the landscape, one full of rage and the pain of denial. Then it petered out and the dust
cloud began to break up, rays of light piercing its eyes and muzzle until the rising sun was left shining in its place.

Maxine sank to her knees, covered her face with her hands, and began to cry.

From the song lyrics to
David Dodd
’s
The Ballad of the Coyote
…

The young outlaw he broke out of jail one dark and dreary night

He shot a man and stole his horse, upon it he took flight

He rode across the desert, a posse at his heels

And that’s when he came upon

The town whom all it kills

The people there were little more than the walking dead

Their hearts and souls they’d left behind, they knew only fear and dread

For close along their borders, a ruthless shaman lived

He’s old as sin and twice mean

And to the devil you he’ll give

Singing hey,

Oh
yo

His name is Coyote

And to hell with him you’ll go

Well old Coyote, he was as sly as his name

He saw the outlaw coming and his soul he wished to claim

So he called up angry demons from the depths of hell

They howled like wolves and barked like dogs

Fanged with claw and tail

The demons they attacked the town, killing young and old

The young outlaw he fought them off, his courage now so bold

But then Coyote came a
howlin
’ and stole the outlaw’s soul

He dragged him down beneath the ground

To forever sing his tale of woe

Singing hey,

Oh
yo

His name is Coyote

And to hell with him you’ll go

So listen up and listen good, you outlaws here today

Pay heed to my story, for when you pass away

If you don’t change your evil ways and see to your eternal soul

Coyote will coming a
howlin
’ and to hell with him you’ll go

Singing hey,

Oh
yo

His name is Coyote

And to hell with him you’ll go

To hell with him you’ll go

From
Black Bob’s Doom; or The Hounds of Perdition
, a dime novel by J.T. Farnsworth…

“No!“ Anna screamed alarmingly as she threw herself betwixt the noble gunslinger and the bullet heralding his doom. Dan whirled on his feet to see his beloved struck down by a death that otherwise would’ve claimed him. Anna fell limply into his arms with a sigh.

“Anna!“ Dan cried despairingly as his beloved’s life’s blood poured from her body onto the corpse-riddled street. She looked up at him longingly and smiled dreamily. “Oh, my love,“ Anna whispered quietly, “how ironic it is for me to have braved all these supernatural terrors at your side only to be struck down by a device of man’s own making. But I would have it no other way. If I might give my life to save your own, then it is a price I pay most willingly and with no regrets.“

“Anna, forgive me, my love!“ Dan exclaimed worriedly.

“Be not ashamed, my cherished one,“ Anna said reassuringly, “for there is naught to forgive.
Nere
has a woman loved or been loved such as I by you. None have had such a trustworthy and honorable man conquer so much for her namesake. I die this day a truly happy and blessed woman. If only I might ask this one last request of you?“

“You need but ask it, my love,“ Dan said most determinedly, “and I shall pledge the remainder of my days to the pursuit of your heart’s desire!“

“Avenge me, my love,“ Anna said gaspingly. “Avenge me.“ With that final sentiment, Anna slipped quietly from her life and out of our story, dear friends.
 

Dan lingered in the street, wishing to hold his beloved the few seconds more that would have to suffice him for all eternity. But the noble gunslinger did not cry. For he was
Deadshot
Dan, the sultan of six-guns, the prince of
pistoliers
, and his heart and nerve were things or iron and steel.

At last, Dan rose steadily to his feet, his beloved in his arms. He carried Anna gently to the porch of Garrett’s orphanage for underprivileged boys and girls, a place that had always been near and dear to his beloved, and then placed his kerchief over her face where it served as a shroud. Then
Deadshot
Dan turned and walked briskly back out into the street, the fire of righteous indignation burning in his eyes.

“Black Bob!“ Dan yelled angrily, “It is only you and I now. I know it was your guns that felled my beloved. Come out of your hole and face me like a man or I swear by all that is holy and scared before heaven and earth that I shall find you and cut your rat’s heart from your monkey’s body!“