Stronger than Bone (16 page)

(Present Day: 237 Cycles into the Light)

Guy opened his eyes and groaned. His was in terrible pain.
“Where am I?”
he thought. He tried to raise his head and immediately stopped. His torso felt like it was ripping open with the strain of the slightest movement.
“What the? Oh yeah,”
he thought as he remembered the attack.
“Am I alive?”

He rolled his head to the side and tried to look down his torso. He could see his arm held against his body, and his left boot sticking out beyond that. He clenched his jaw and pushed himself up with his other arm. He yelled out in pain as his wounds opened and his flesh tore again
. “Yep! I’m alive! Holy crap that hurts!”
He tried to breathe through the pain. He gingerly moved his arm away from his chest and took a look down his torso.

“Oh, that’s not good,” he whispered when he saw the gore. His side was ripped open just below his chest, and he could see two of his ribs clearly. His wrist was also open to the bone and he could see some of his tendons were severed.

Before he passed out again he would need to dress the wounds. He looked around and saw nothing suitable to use. Only dry needles and pine boughs, dirt and twigs were within reach. He looked at his own clothing and sighed. “I really like this shirt.”

It took him several minutes to get the shirt off of his body. Every movement was torture, and he was paranoid of getting anything near his open wounds. Once he got the shirt off his back, he tore one sleeve off and wrapped it around his butchered wrist. He laughed at himself for shedding actual tears from the pain. “Don’t you make fun of me Gretchen,” he thought. He smiled for a moment and then it clouded over as he remembered why she was no longer there to talk to in person. He took the remaining fabric and folded it into a pad just larger than the wound on his side.

“Slap your sister!” he shouted as he realized he had nothing to tie the bandage to his torso with. He sat and thought about it for a minute. Sighing again, he leaned forward and grasped his pant leg. “Nghh!” he groaned. It hurt like hell, and he could feel himself getting dizzy. Thankful for the worn and frayed hem, he easily tore the fabric into long strips.

He tied the torn strips together making two long strips and laid them behind him the best he could. Then, with a lot of grunting and gritting of teeth, he lay back on the ground. He took a moment to rest and breathe, and placed the shirt bandage over the wound and tied it to his torso with the two strips. He tied one at the top, and one at the bottom, trying to keep either from pressing too hard on the wound itself.

“Whew! Haha, this sucks!” he chuckled as he lay there. Seconds later he was unconscious again.

Guy woke to something tapping on his side. Sharp pain accompanied each tap, and his eyes shot open. He scrambled upright to a seated position and the crow that had been pecking at his bandage cawed in surprise and flew away in a flurry of feathers and pine needles. Guy growled in anger and leapt after it, nearly catching it by the tail before it flapped away into the sky. Suddenly he realized what he had just done and he quickly looked down to see how badly he had re-injured himself.

“Slap your sister!” he hissed as peeled away the bandage and looked at where the gaping wound had been. It was nearly healed!

“But how?”
he wondered. He pulled the bandage off of his wrist and stared in disbelief at the mostly restored wound. “Haha!” he laughed aloud. “Yes!” he shouted.

A sobering thought crossed his mind and he quickly checked his boot and his leg for the stashed coins. “Still there,” he said and breathed a sigh of relief.

Guy stood up and checked himself over thoroughly. Aside from the miraculous healing, he was unchanged. All of the appropriate bits and pieces were there, and he felt better than ever. He looked up at the heavens and said, “Thank you!”

With a smile, he set off at a brisk pace. He had plenty of energy to make his journey, but her was ravenously hungry. No matter, he would feast like a king at the first home or village he reached.

Feeling renewed and more than a little lucky, he quickened his pace and hurried toward his new life.

It was five hours later when Guy smelled food cooking within the farmhouse up ahead. He closed his eyes and let the aroma fill his nostrils. He stood still and savored it for two very slow and very deep breaths before opening his eyes and resuming his walk forward.

“Hey to the house!” he called as he walked through the underbrush and into the clearing in front of the farmhouse. “Is anyone home?”

He stopped there and waited for someone to acknowledge him. After a moment he called out again. “I haven’t eaten in a couple of days, and I think I may have been attacked by a bear or something.”

The front door cracked open and he could see someone peeking out at him.

“Hi there!” Guy said. “I’m sorry to impose, but do you have any food to spare? Maybe a piece of bread, or a little bit of your left overs? I can pay you.”

“Got nothin’ fer you. Git on now!” said a voice from inside and the door slammed shut.

Guy stood there for a moment feeling disappointment. Then suddenly, his disappointment turned to anger. In the span of a few seconds Guy’s blood began to boil.
“That selfish jerk!”
he thought.
“How dare he tell me to go! I bet he has plenty! He doesn’t need all of that food!”

“Hey!” he shouted. “Open the door and give me some food!”

There was no response.

Guy pounded on the door with his fists.

“Ye best git yer arse off me porch! I’ll be skinnin’ yer crippled hide!” the voice inside yelled.

“SLAP YOUR SISTER! OPEN THE DAMN DOOR!” Guy screamed as he pounded and kicked at the door.

Suddenly the door opened and the point of a very long knife appeared just under his chin.

Guy froze, but he didn’t calm down or back off. His anger increased beyond measure. Guy’s world descended into a red and black tornado of barely discernible shapes and distant sounds until there was no Guy. There was only fury, a prime-evil emotion sparked from anger that exploded into uncontrollable rage.

He blacked out.

Guy awoke to a grisly sight. He was lying on the floor in a pool of blood. A mutilated corpse was lying on the floor next to him with its skull bashed in. As he tried to make sense of what he was seeing, he realized he was holding his wooden leg in his right hand. He struggled to a sitting position and took a closer look at the scene.

He had the other man’s blood on his hands and all over his wooden leg and he saw no signs that anyone else had been there. He didn’t have any injuries of his own either.
“What did I do?”
he thought.

He looked at the corpse lying near him again and immediately vomited.

“Slap your sister,” he said as he wiped the spit from his chin. “What is wrong with me?”

Guy buried the old man behind the house. He cleaned up the bloody floor the best he could, but there was no hiding the deed that had been done here. There was a cot with some clean clothes folded at the end of it. He took one of the pairs of pants and a shirt to replace the bloody rags he wore.

Feeling like the murderer and thief he had become, he took a satchel from near the door and filled it with just enough food to make it another day or two. Before leaving, he stood in the doorway conflicted. After a few moments, he walked back into the house and dug out a gold coin. He stuffed it under the clothes at the foot of the bed and left.

(Present Day: 237 Cycles into the Light)

Death waited in the master bedroom for Duke Dennison to return. He had spoken to one of the stable hands and two of the servant girls, on his way inside. None of them had anything useful to say before they died. The man in black and green apparently left on an errand this morning and had not returned, but the Duke was home. Death assumed he would retire to his room for the evening, any time now.

The door opened and the Hawk entered his bed chamber. A servant walked in behind him and quickly lit candles on each side of the bed. A guard also entered and stood just inside the doorway. Once the candles were lit, the servant bowed and left the room. The Hawk stood in front of a large mirror saying nothing. Finally, he looked toward the dark corner where Death was standing and said, “There is no reason to hide. We both know you aren’t here to kill me.”

Death stepped forward into the light and manufactured a terrible bastardization of a smile.

The guard, seeing him for the first time visibly jerked in surprise. He immediately dropped to a fighting crouch and said, “Hnnggh!!” which sounded neither confident nor intelligent.

Death chuckled at his effect on the guard. “Where is your man?” he asked the Duke. “I am looking for new information on the man I hunt for you.”

“He left to speak with some of your old friends. He is…making them new friends of mine,” the Hawk said with a devious smile. “You are welcome to stay and wait,” he offered casually. “He will be back within the week. If you do stay, I must ask you not to kill any more of my servants. It is hard to find good help, as always. I’m sure you understand.”

“Of course,” Death said turning his gaze to the guard.

“That…extends to my guards as well,” said the Duke.

Death nodded and left the room. He locked eyes with the guard as he passed, causing the smaller man to lose his military bearing and step back.

The Hawk turned back to the mirror and stared into it again. He imagined a crown sitting atop his head, and thousands of kneeling citizens behind him. He stood there, still and quiet for several more minutes, before retiring to bed.

A hidden door in the opposite corner of the room, quietly closed, unnoticed by the Duke or his guard.

Outside by the barn, Vanessa and Klaus stood in the firelight, among the servants and estate staff being briefed by the Sergeant of the Duke’s Guard. The Sergeant was telling them to stay indoors at night and to go nowhere alone. Everyone was to travel in pairs, even when moving about inside the main house after dark.

“Are we in danger sir?” asked one of the cooks.

“Not at all, Mr. Brown,” said the Sergeant. “Listen, this is only a precaution, and it’s only temporary. A couple people have gone missing, and we just want to keep everyone safe until we can find them or figure out where they’ve gone.”

Klaus held Vanessa’s hand and squeezed it tightly. They both knew the servant girls and stable hand had been murdered. Klaus didn’t feel safe here at all anymore. He pulled Vanessa with him to the back of the crowd and they snuck out together. They walked down the far side of the stable building toward the main house. As they walked by a recessed doorway, Vanessa stopped and pulled him in with her. They were still exposed to the forest, but anyone gazing down the length of the building from either end would not be able to see them.

“I’m afraid Klaus.”

“I know. I wish I could take you away from here, tonight!”

“As long as you’re here with me, I know I’ll be safe,” whispered Vanessa.

Klaus pushed her against the door jam and kissed her. There were still so many reasons to keep their relationship hidden, but in such uncertain times any chance at happiness was worth a risk.

Vanessa felt electricity racing through her body at his touch. When he took charge and moved her body with his strong hands, she was overcome. Her body reacted with such a powerful force that it scared her sometimes. She trembled and would have sunk to her knees if he had not been pressed against her, holding her up as they kissed.

Standing in the darkness of the forest nearby, Death watched the two lovers and felt a very different kind of hunger. He swallowed hard as he fought to control the impulse to spill and drink their hot blood. He finally had to turn away, or lose all control to the bloodlust he felt.

He sprinted through the dark forest toward the road, looking for an unlucky wanderer to satisfy his thirst. He moved like a shadow through the trees, seeing clearly with the help of moonlight and blood magic. Finding the road, he raced on at full speed.

He had travelled nearly ten miles when he spotted two country men walking along the road. They were singing loudly and quite poorly, and swaying from side to side as they walked.

Death slammed into the one on the left at full speed. He tore through his neck with powerful jaws before dropping the man and turning to the other.

“Uhhhhh, what’d you do that for?” said the man who was still standing.

Without a word, Death tackled him and began tearing at his flesh with his hands and teeth. He wasn’t even drinking at this point. It was pure blood lust. He couldn’t think. He just wanted red blood everywhere. He wanted it on him and even in him. Death stuffed chunks of flesh and guts in his mouth only to spit them out as he tore the man apart. He had to have every part of this man’s insides exposed and open to the outside. He howled madly as he continued to go berserk on the mutilated corpse.

The first man choked on his own blood as he lay helpless, watching the animalistic attack on his friend. His vision started to fail and he thanked God for release before the towering creature turned back to him.

(Present Day: 237 Cycles into the Light)

Curly had cashed in all of his chips. Every one of his stashes and hidden reserves was retrieved over the last week, and he had just enough to do the job. He hired a tracker, and a damn good one at that. He also hired a crew and outfitted the lot with weapons and horses.

He stood before them now, assessing what his money had purchased. He wasn’t impressed, but he could make it work. He always did.

“Listen up you lot,” he said in a dramatic voice. I’ve paid you handsomely to do this job. What I didn’t tell you before is that there’s a bonus when it’s done.” He raised his arms in the sky for emphasis. “And it’s big bonus at that! So lift up your skirts girls, and get ready to run! Because we’re going to catch this rat bastard and fast! And payday will be bigger the sooner it’s done!” He smiled for effect.

Curly looked into the eyes of every man. He settled on an odd looking man off to the side, standing a little behind the rest. His hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail, and his thin mustache was combed perfectly straight. His clothes fit tightly to his rail thin frame which was at least a head shorter than the shortest crew member. The top of his head barely reached Curly’s belt buckle.

“Mateo,” Curly said to the small and well groomed tracker. “Lead the way.”

The men shouted and slapped each other on the back as they turned to get on their horses. Mateo nodded and walked toward his own pony. His walk was as odd as his appearance. Each step was an exaggerated roll from heel to toe, and he went up onto his toes with a little bounce each time. Coupled with the fact that he didn’t swing his arms as he walked, and that his pants were too short; he looked very odd indeed.

Once mounted, Mateo took the lead ahead of Curly, and the rest of the crew trailed in a disorganized gaggle behind. Mateo led them far away from the city, and down a long road, before veering off into the woods on the trail he had found yesterday.

The man they searched for had one good leg and one wooden leg. It would be a very short hunt for Mateo and his employer. He did not let himself get overconfident though. Underestimating people was how trackers died early. He knew he had to find this man before he realized he was being followed, and he had to watch his own back while he did it.

Mateo didn’t trust the men he was riding with or the man that hired them, but money was money, and his growing family needed it. Mateo trusted Mateo, and no one else. He would do his job and keep his mouth shut. Mateo planned to live a very long time.

Several hours later, they stopped near a conifer tree.

“What happened here?” asked Curly, as he watched Mateo sift through the bloody pine needles and branches for answers.

“If it weren’t for the tracks leading away from here,” said Mateo pointing west, “I would say that your friend surely died right here.” He shook his head. “Somebody lost too much blood for there not to be a body.”

“What do I care about all of that? If he’s leaving tracks, it means he’s moving. If he’s moving, it means he’s getting away! Now get up and get after that trail!” Curly growled.

Mateo silently stood up and wiped the dirt and pine needles from the knees of his high-water pants before remounting his pony.
“I hope whatever attacked this guy catches you instead, and rips off your balls while you are sleeping,”
he thought as he turned his mount to follow the tracks west.

Later that day, after Mateo correctly read the backtracking in Guy’s trail and kept their horses out of the swamp, they came upon a cottage in the woods.

“Leave the talking to me boys, and we’ll be eating a hearty meal and sleeping indoors tonight,” said Curly, obviously feeling more positive at this fortunate occurrence.

They dismounted in front of the door and watched as Curly knocked before entering.

“Hello?” he said as he stepped through the doorway. “Anybody home?”

Mateo stayed mounted. He had a bad feeling about this place, but he wasn’t sure why. By appearances this place looked well maintained and he didn’t see anything out of the ordinary.

“Come on in boys!” called Curly from inside. “Nobody’s home, so looks like we get the place to ourselves.”

Mateo slowly dismounted while the others hurried inside. As he stepped down to the ground he could just make out the tracks leading out of the house and heading east. Shaking his head at the inconsistency of his current employer, he walked his pony over to the porch and tethered it before following the others inside.

Men were rummaging through everything in the house, looking for something valuable to take, or good to eat. Mateo walked farther into the house, and found what he was looking for. He sat down on the bed and noticed the clothes neatly folded at the end of it. He picked them up, piece by piece, and took a closer look. They appeared to be in good shape. As he separated the shirt on top from the pants underneath, he noticed something shiny fall out onto the bed beside him.

“What is that?”
he thought as he reached for it.

He swallowed hard and his eyes opened wide when he realized what it was. Shoving the gold coin in his pocket, he looked around to see if anyone had noticed.
“Thank you, dear God!”
he prayed silently and crossed himself. Carefully, he reached his hand back into his pocket to feel the cold metal disc that would feed and clothe his family for the entire year and more.

Shoving the gold coin as deep in his pocket as it would go, Mateo took the clothes and the blanket off the bed and walked over to an empty corner. He lay on the floor, using the folded clothes as a pillow, and tried to act like he was asleep. He closed his eyes and thought of his family even as his heart threatened to beat its way out of his narrow chest. One thing was for certain, he no longer needed this job. He was painfully aware that the longer he stayed with these men, the more likely it was that something would happen to take away this miracle gift.

By midnight, most of Curly’s men were sleeping. The sounds of snoring were loud enough to wake any forest creatures for a mile in any direction. Mateo could hear someone talking quietly outside, so he knew he had to wait. If he was caught trying to leave it would arouse suspicion; and now that he thought about it, what if he did leave? Wouldn’t Curly be able to track him back to his family? He never revealed where he lived, but it wouldn’t be hard to find him if someone really wanted to. He sighed and wondered,
“Is this gold a blessing or a curse?”

He lay there, awake and worried, thinking through the possibilities. Finally, he noticed that there were no more voices outside. How long had it been since he had last heard them? He couldn’t be sure, but he thought it must have been quite some time.

Slowly and quietly, he sat up and looked around. No one stirred. He carefully stood and picked up the clothes and blanket, and then he stepped softly to the front door. He held his breath as he passed the cot that Curly lay on. The big man was intimidating. The sore hip he favored made him ornery on top of being a generally bad person. Mateo was not at all sad to put these men behind him.

As he walked out the door toward his horse he rehearsed his excuse for setting out on his own.
“I’m just scouting ahead,”
he’d say.
“I thought I might pick up the trail faster if I get a head start.”

He untied his pony and threw the clothes and blanket over its neck. He didn’t even bother to tie them down. Putting distance between him and these criminals was his top priority right now. Walking quickly, he led the pony into the woods. He headed east in the same direction Curly’s enemy was traveling. After a few minutes of walking through the trees and brush, he stopped and took a moment to stuff the clothes and blanket into one of the bags tied across the horse’s back. Climbing up into the saddle he suddenly realized he wasn’t entirely sure which way he should go. It had not occurred to him until just now that the man Curly was chasing might be a good man.

“Should I warn him? Does he need my help?”

Mateo took a deep breath and crossed himself. He was no hero, and he longed to see his family, but for some reason he felt a duty to at least try and warn the fellow. He gently kicked the horse in its haunches with the heels of his boots and they set off at a trot. He stopped every so often to check the trail. He would have to work quickly or despite his good intentions, Curly and his men would get a two for one special.