“But we need to get far away from here . . . from those wolves, from whatever else might be after us.”
“Look, you ought to know that them wolves aren’t the only monsters after me. I got the General and his bunch looking to shoot me first chance they get. They’ll kill me . . . kill you . . . and most certainly that ugly monster of yours. They got eyes everywhere. We keep heading down this highway in daylight and we won’t make it out of the county. You understand?”
Isabel was silent.
“Fuck, and we gotta get some gas. Have to be running on fumes at this point. Any of you got any cash?”
“Yeah,” she answered. “But it’s back in the cave.”
“What? You mean the cave we just left?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Well, about how much good do you think that’s gonna do us?”
More silence.
Krampus thought the man showed a lot of backbone, especially in the face of all that was going on, thought he might make a good Belsnickel. And he would need as many as he could sustain, because there’d be no telling what creatures Santa might send after them next. I will have to claim him. His eyes closed. He took in a deep breath. But not now. It would be too much now. Later . . . perhaps when I am stronger. His eyes shut and he drifted away into dreams of soaring through the clouds.
JESSE HEADED UP a gravel road; it was an old mining road and he felt pretty sure no one would be out this way. If he could find some shelter, it’d be a good place to hole up until dark, until they could get some gas and maybe by then he’d have figured out a way to escape this group of freaks.
Isabel rolled down her window, leaned out looking skyward. “Them birds is still following us.”
Jesse hit the brakes, slid to a stop on the gray gravel.
“Whatcha doing?” Isabel asked.
“Taking care of something.” Jesse unclipped his seat belt, hopped out of the truck, and headed across the road toward a clearing.
“Hey,” Isabel called. “We can’t stop here.” She popped open her door and came after him. “We gotta keep moving.”
Jesse shielded his eyes with his hand and searched for the birds, spotted both of them circling above in the cool early-morning light.
The Belsnickels slid out of the camper, looked from Jesse to Isabel.
“We need to get him back in the truck,” Isabel said.
Makwa walked over and grabbed Jesse by the arm, gave him a tug back toward the pickup.
Jesse locked eyes with the big Shawnee. “I ain’t running off.” Jesse jerked his arm free and walked to the rear of the pickup. He stared at his father’s truck, at the streaks of blood and clumps of fur stuck to the twisted aluminum of the shattered camper shell. The tailgate was gone altogether and the rear bumper all but dragged on the road.
Jesse set a knee on the truck bed and leaned in. The Krampus creature lay wrapped in the blanket near the cab, cradling his velvet sack. He was looking out the side window, up into the sky, his eyes far away and a half-smile on his face, like a drunk in a whorehouse. Jesse noticed his guitar, the big crack along the body and the missing frets. “Damn,” he whispered. His mother and father had given it to him for his twelfth birthday, and despite everything else that had happened, seeing it cracked like that still hit him hard. Just one more thing to feel bad about . . . that’s all. Jesse pushed it aside, rolled the sleeping bag over to get at his father’s hunting rifle. He grabbed it and the tackle box, slid them out.
Vernon caught the barrel, keeping it pointed at the dirt. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Let go.”
“I’m not about to.”
“Then we’ll just sit here until them wolves come. Until that Santa fella tracks us down.”
“Let him have it.”
They both turned and found Krampus leaning against the side of the camper, staring up at the circling birds. Jesse noticed that the Krampus creature looked a touch better, closer now to a fresh cadaver, one that had only been in the ground say a week or so as opposed to a couple of months.
“Krampus, no,” Vernon said. “That’s a rifle . . . a gun. Do you know what—”
“I know what a rifle is,” Krampus said in a voice deep and full of gravel.
“Well, then why in Hell would you let him have one? He’ll just shoot us all!”
Krampus continued to stare up at the ravens, an odd, sad look in his eyes. “It must be done.”
“What? No, that’s a very bad idea. You can’t trust a man like—”
“Give him the gun. That is a command.”
Vernon made a face as though he’d sat on a tack, but relinquished hold on the rifle.
Jesse propped the rifle on his knee, flipped open the tackle box, and dug about until he found a carton of rounds. He pressed fifteen rounds into the magazine, cocked the lever, seating a bullet in the chamber, then crossed the road into the clearing.
He spotted the ravens, guessed they were about two hundred feet overhead, knew it would be an easy shot with them being so large, at least with this rifle. You handle a gun long enough and it becomes an extension of yourself, and Jesse had spent half his life with the old Henry .22. He’d once shot a bumblebee right out of the air with it. He seated the rifle against his shoulder, sighted one of the ravens, led the aim to compensate for distance, and fired. The gun kicked like a pat from an old friend, and a blast of feathers flittered away. It was a clean kill and the raven dropped from the sky. The remaining raven let out a piercing cry and began to flap furiously away, but Jesse already had a bead on it. He pulled the trigger twice in quick succession, the first shot missed but the second one caught the big bird in the wing, sending it spiraling earthward in a rain of feathers.
Jesse cocked another round into the chamber, turned, and leveled the gun on Krampus. “Get away from my truck. All of you.”
The Belsnickels froze, all their eyes locked on Jesse. But Krampus didn’t give him so much as a glance, only watched the big birds plummet earthward. One raven landed in the clearing, the other about fifty yards up the road. “Makwa, bring me the birds.”
Makwa kept staring at Jesse, clenching and unclenching his powerful hands. Jesse could see the big Shawnee intended to tear him apart.
“Makwa?”
The Shawnee stiffened.
“It is a command.”
Makwa gave Jesse one last look, one that promised a terrible death, then sprinted away up the road.
Jesse jabbed the gun at Krampus. “Get your stupid sack and get out of my truck. I’m not gonna say it twice.”
The four remaining Belsnickels began to spread out, to encircle Jesse. Jesse raised the gun to his shoulder. “One more step and I will blow his head off. Go on, goddammit. I dare you.”
“Leave him be,” Krampus said calmly, his tone almost bored, even distracted, still looking at the birds. “Back away, that is a command.”
The Belsnickels stopped, took a step back, and just stood there exchanging confused looks.
“Now get out of my truck,” Jesse repeated.
“I thought you said you weren’t going to say it twice?”
“Well, I sure as heck ain’t gonna say it three times,” Jesse growled. “That’s for certain.”
Krampus turned his face to Jesse and smiled. “We need your help.”
“Don’t care.”
“From what I have heard you seem to have a lot of enemies.”
“That don’t concern you.”
“Perhaps you need our help?” Krampus said. “Perhaps there are ways we can help each other.”
“Don’t think so.”
“You have seen my Belsnickels at play. You know what they are capable of. What if they were to be at your command? If there is blood that needs to be spilt, they are very capable.”