“Shit, Vernon,” Jesse snapped, shoving the barrel away from his face. “Look, man, you gotta watch where you’re pointing that thing. Okay?”
“Oh, yes. I’m sorry.”
Krampus and the Shawnee stood at the ledge, scanning the gorge below, when a low howl echoed up the valley. Jesse’s skin prickled. It sounded nearby.
Makwa sprinted up the road a piece, stopped, and pointed below.
“They found something,” Vernon said.
“Let’s go see,” Isabel said, and started to get out of the truck, stopped, and looked at Jesse.
“I’m good right here,” Jesse said.
Isabel shook her head. “I don’t think so.”
Jesse let out a grunt, put on the emergency brake, and climbed out. “Look, ain’t someone gonna at least give me a weapon?” No one paid him any attention. “Fine,” he said and followed Isabel and Vernon to the ledge.
He could see the wolves, both of them, about fifty yards below. One of them lay on its side. It looked dead to Jesse. The other stood guard beside it. It stared up at them, growling, its fur bristling. Need to just leave that thing be.
Krampus and the wolf watched each other for several minutes, both of their tails twitching. Finally, Krampus spoke. “None of you are to use your weapons without my order. That is a command. Now, wait here.” He walked back to the truck, reached into the camper, and pulled out his sack.
“What’s he up to?” Vernon asked no one in particular.
Krampus closed his eyes, clutched the sack, then reopened his eyes. He inserted his arm into the sack and withdrew a chunk of something. Krampus tossed the sack back into the truck bed and headed their way.
“It’s the leg of beef,” Vernon said. “He’s planning on feeding the damn things. Isn’t he? He’s mad, completely mad.”
Jesse realized Krampus must’ve opened a door back to the church and simply pulled the meat out of the wash tub. “Maybe he’ll let you feed them, Vernon.”
But Krampus passed them by without a word and started down the rocky embankment. He slid and scrambled his way to the bottom of the ravine, then leapt deftly from boulder to boulder until he was about twenty yards from the wolves. The huge wolf bared its teeth and stood its ground. They could hear the low rumble of its growl all the way up the ravine.
“My friends,” Vernon said, making no effort to hide the pleasure in his voice. “Lord Krampus is about to be devoured before our very eyes.”
The Shawnee cut him a dark look.
“Do not even frown at me, you bunch of heathens. Not everyone is having a gosh-darn good time here. God or not, he has finally gone completely cuckoo.” Vernon smiled. “ ’Sooner he’s dead, the sooner I get to wake up from this nightmare.”
Krampus took a step, then another, slowly moving closer and closer to the wolf. The wolf showed no sign of backing down, its growl increasing in volume. Jesse found he shared Vernon’s sentiment; Krampus had indeed lost hold of his senses. Even the Shawnee looked unsure, clutching their weapons and exchanging nervous glances.
Krampus stepped upon the ledge with the giant wolves. He held the chunk of beef out before him and spoke to the wolf. It was impossible to make out the words from that distance, yet somehow Jesse caught his low, soothing tone, as though the Yule Lord was reaching out in other ways.
The wolf took a step back, then another. Krampus laid the beef down in front of it. The wolf sniffed, appeared confused—growling then whining, growling then whining.
Krampus stepped over to the injured wolf, squatted on his haunches. He tore off a strip of beef, held it before the prone wolf. It raised its head, sniffed, licked the beef, then took it. Krampus fed it another strip and another, stroking its fur, all while its mate looked on. Finally, its mate took a timid step over, its tail down, sniffing. Krampus nudged the beef toward it. It licked, then bit into the meat—chewing greedily. Jesse wondered how long it had been since it had last eaten.
Krampus kept speaking to them in that low, soothing tone; whatever he was saying seemed to be working. Krampus was soon petting both animals and Jesse watched in disbelief as the standing wolf licked Krampus’s hand then actually nuzzled the Yule Lord.
“Looks like today’s not your lucky day after all, Vernon,” Jesse said.
“Yes, it appears madness wins,” Vernon said with a sigh.
Krampus stood and waved to them.
“Now what?” Vernon moaned.
“He wants us to come down,” Isabel said. “I got a good idea he’s gonna want us to tote that lame wolf back up to the truck.”
Vernon let out a long groan.
The Shawnee started down, but Isabel paused. “Vernon, need you to stay put and watch the truck. Krampus’s sack’s in the back, remember? Shout if you hear anyone coming.”
Vernon smiled. “That works for me.”
She glanced at Jesse. “And don’t let Jesse out of your sight.”
The four Belsnickels slid down the embankment, made their way over the boulders, and cautiously approached the wolves.
Jesse blew into his cupped hands, trying to warm his fingers, then shoved them into his pockets. He felt the keys and his heart sped up. He’d forgotten he had them; his mind had been on the wolves—if and when they were going to leap out of the trees and rip them all apart. In his fear and excitement, he’d not even considered escaping, and now realized he wasn’t the only one preoccupied, that no one else had thought of the keys, either.
He snuck a quick glance toward the truck; it sat just waiting for him to run and jump in. He considered Vernon standing there on the ledge. One quick push is all it’d take. Jesse clutched the keys. Might be my only chance.
“Oh, this is just rich,” Vernon said, completely transfixed by the drama unfolding below.
Jesse took a step closer to Vernon.
Vernon looked at him, and Jesse froze. “What are you doing?”
Jesse opened his mouth, couldn’t find any words, shrugged.
“Well here, look. You’re going to miss it.”
The standing wolf bristled as the Belsnickels neared, began to growl again. The Belsnickels stopped in their tracks.
“Just hate to see one of them dunderheaded savages get their arm bit off.” Vernon chuckled. “Why, that would just be horrible.”
Jesse looked at all the rocks and roots below. He sure didn’t want to kill the man, just get away. Sorry, Jesse thought and gave Vernon a shove, catching the Belsnickel completely by surprise.
Vernon flew off the ledge and Jesse didn’t wait around to see what happened next. He dashed for the truck, leapt in the door, and slammed the key in the ignition. He turned the key, the engine whined, then nothing. Jesse pictured the Belsnickels all scrambling up the ledge, he knew he had only seconds. He tried again, lightly pumping the gas, trying not to flood it in his excitement. This time the engine turned over, the muffler coughed, and black smoke shot out the back. Jesse slammed it into gear and punched the accelerator.
He bounced down the rut road. Howls came from somewhere behind him. He dared not so much as a glance back, all his attention on keeping the truck from sliding off the icy track. A minute later he shot through the brambles, and the front wheels of the old Ford actually left the ground as he flew out onto the highway. A horn blared, followed by the squeal of brakes. Jesse spun halfway around and just missed an oncoming semi. He straightened up, hit the gas, and headed up Route 3 toward Goodhope.
JUST BEFORE TOWN, Jesse pulled down the long gravel road leading to Linda’s mother’s, then into the turnaround beside the creek. He left the motor running, hopped out, and unscrewed the four pins holding what was left of the camper to his truck. He shoved the camper off into the bushes. He couldn’t remember ever seeing the truck without the shell, almost didn’t recognize it, hoped no one else would either.